It's My Birthday and I'll Cry If I Want To

So on Tuesday I turned the big 2-7. To say I don't enjoy my birthday would be an understatement, the disdain for my birthday can be traced back to my childhood. My father missed my birthday every year since, unfortunately, I was born during deer hunting season, and shooting a killing a deer was way more important than being home for my birthday. Even after my parent's divorce, it was hit or miss if he would get the date, year I turned, or a card in the mail on my birthday each year. This year I worked on my birthday because let's be honest, getting older really isn't something I want  to celebrate. I still feel the same as I did when I turned 25, no kids, no marriage, and I am not in the job I want to be in. 

My nephew woke me up at 6:30 in the morning with a, "Katie, happy birthday.......DID you know I want some cake?" aka get your ass out of bed and cut your cake so I can have some before I have to go to school. I dragged myself up out of bed and read through a stack full of cards, because in my family we are a card giving family, and watched my nephew eat cake since my metabolism doesn't work that early. I even drove him to school because it was colder than cold that day. I went to a meeting for work where some of my awesome co-workers remembered it was my birthday and greeted me with hugs and birthday wishes. And when I got to my actual job site (the GH-group home) my clients remembered and even sang to me at dinner, out of tune, some yelling but all, I'm sure (not sure), from a place of love. 

No surprise here the sperm donor's, some of you may call him "my dad" I don't think he deserves that right, card arrived 2 days late. This year he sent a Mickey Mouse card (his whore wife likes Mickey Mouse so I know she picked it out) I shook the card, grabbed the check and threw the card out, didn't even bother reading the sentiments because I don't believe them. I am a big believer in actions speak louder than words and since we haven't seen each other talked in two years his sentiments can eat shit.

The previous weekend, at our girls night out the bouncer at the bar we frequent who pretty much knows us checked my ID and said, "Happy early Birthday sweetie. I'm off Tuesday wanna party?" No thanks big boy but thanks for noticing my birthday. Note to readers, don't ever drink Rumplemintz, going to have to thank the cute little "shot" girl at Saddle Up for that next time. Tastes like toothpaste. 

Since I worked on my birthday and I had comp time to burn, I took the rest of the week off like any responsible 27 year old would do and so far all I have done is laundry and sleep. I don't feel any older yet, or any wiser. I will say this year has aged me emotionally and I am hoping the year of 27 is the year of happiness in every aspect for me. So raise your glass with me and toast to landing my dream job, getting married and getting the HELL out of Illinois! 

Ew Thanks Mom

How I feel EVERY year

Until the next post, Keep it Classy, Sassy and always a bit smart assy.