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In one month it will be my birthday. I know some people who think that you should stop paying attention to birthdays after you reach a certain age, but I think differently. Your birthday is your day. A celebration of you being brought into this world. You should be able to enjoy this day to the fullest and screw anyone who tells you differently.

Personally, I celebrate my birthday for a week. And anyone else’s, too. It’s not unusual for me to coax people into going out to dinner or drinking by convincing them that even though their birthday was four days ago there’s still time to whoop it up. Besides, you do everyone a favor.

If you go into a bar on “everyday” Tuesday and drink it’s just another Tuesday. But, if you go into a bar on “Birthday” Tuesday and announce it, then it gives everyone else in the bar a reason to celebrate. And celebrating means more drinking. And more drinking means more fun! At least until that certain point when your body won’t take it anymore.

I’ve never had a surprise party.

My birthday is especially important because it gives people a chance to give me something that I either need but can’t afford, or want badly but can’t justify spending the money myself. Also, in extreme cases it gives me the excuse of spending money on something I want and all I need to do to justify it is to say it’s my birthday. So there.

That’s a whole month away, though.

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