On this day, 29 years ago, the single most important
event in human history
took place. An event so earth shattering
in its importance, it overshadows anything else you could possibly imagine.
I was born.
What? That's not the most important event ever? Fuck you! It is to me, pal, so there. Today is my birthday. The one day a year I'm allowed, no, compelled to be utterly selfish and demanding. Give me attention! Give me love! Give me cards, presents, adoration! Bollocks to this "oh, please don't make a fuss" lark - MAKE a fuss, dammit, or you're not my friend anymore, you're not in my gang ever again.
You can do it too - when it's your birthday, you are perfectly entitled to demand that everyone make a fuss of you, too. Your birthday is solely about you, a celebration of your birth, which in itself is amazingly selfish and self-congratulatory, so why not go the whole hog?
I'm 29 today. I've never been 29 before. Something else I've never done is forgotten it was my birthday. I did that today. Sure, I knew my birthday was coming, but yesterday I totally forgot. It was only today, at about midday, I suddenly said "Fuck, it's my birthday!" I'd completely forgotten. Senile old fucker.
I've been distracted a bit, but that's no excuse. I've just been in Yorkshire for a week, helping my sister out. She found a lump in her right breast in January, had it checked out, and yes, it was breast cancer. She was immediately booked in for a mastectomy, had the operation a couple of weeks ago. The family have been taking turns to go up and help out, with her and her 13 year old, my nephew. A couple of weeks ago she went back to the hospital, got checked again - she got the all clear. They caught it in time. No chemo. Thank fuck. She's going to be fine, well, relatively fine, considering the terrible trauma of having a breast removed. I can't imagine it, being a guy, but I'm sure it's not a barrel of laughs. Thing is, she's been great, she was optimistic throughout, and is now in great form. I'd have gone to pieces, but she was fantastic. She's happy now, looking forward to living, no longer having the death sentence hanging over her head. Any of you angsty teens who are listening, take note - a real problem! With real consequences! And nobody killed themselves, or made a pathetic attempt at it, or wrote fucking boring poetry/angsty daylogs about how terrible their lives are and if only someone would understand... See what I'm saying? Are you there, angsty boy and depression girl?? Shave, take a shower, open the fucking curtains and stop inventing problems to make your life all pseudo-gothic and interesting, you fucking self-important, pompous, whining cunts.
But I digress. I'd forgotten about my birthday, and as I was away in Yorkshire until just an hour ago, I haven't got any cards or presents or anything. But hey, I don't really care. My sister isn't going to die, she's going to be fine. I love her very much, and for a few horrible weeks I thought I was going to lose her. I have ten quid's worth of handmade fudge from the market that you can't get in London, two bags of honeycomb stuff (also handmade) like the stuff inside Crunchies, and a big bag of jellies. My sister and nephew have my old PlayStation now that I have a PlayStation 2, and are extremely grateful, and think I'm the King. I'm going to dinner tonight with my best friend. Saturday night, me and Felony (and fondue if I can persuade him) are getting done up in black and going for a heavy metal night out, so I can drool over saucy rock/indie/hippy chicks. Normally I'd say "y'know, with life's simple pleasures like these, I don't need presents" - and it'd be true. But hey, I won't turn you away if you have something for me...
Happy Birthday to me! And if it's your birthday too, well... fuck off, I was here first, me me me, pay attention to ME, I'm the best, LOVE MEEEEE...
Yes, I know I said that my previous (and first) daylog would be my last, but this is special. And I wanted a writeup
with my birth date in it.