I recently discovered a blog by fellow WordPress member, Miffet (click here). She’s an Aussie girl who moved to Canada a couple of years back, and her blog records her trials – and MIStrials – during her transition to Canadianism. It’s very funny, and I suggest you all check it out.
Anyway, she was blogging about Birthdays, and how Canadians don’t do the “Hip-hip Hooray” after singing the song. I know, it’s weird, but I’m not going to steal her thunder – click on the above link and check it out for yourself.
But it got me thinking. What is it with birthdays? Why do we hope that nobody at work remembers, because we don’t want to be embarassed, but then being upset when your big day goes by and nobody mentioned it?
Why can we never think of what gifts we’d like when our loved ones ask, but when you open them on the day, you’re kind of disappointed that nobody got you what you REALLY wanted?
When you’re young, birthdays are awesome. AWESOME. There’s HUGE parties, HEAPS of presents and you get to stay up late with your friends. When you hit your mid-twenties, you start to kind of hate them. You’re another year older. Your body stops doing some of the things it used to do. And every time you celebrate, you’re reminded of how you can’t just get Lego or Barbie for presents anymore.
I have no idea if the wonder of birthdays kicks back in at some point, but I sure hope it does. I’m generally a quiet kind of guy (you can tell by the majority of my posts) but I secretly love it when people make a big deal about me. And I think we all do.
I have this theory that your first and last birthdays are exactly the same. You have no idea what’s going, you have no idea who all the people are, but you like the pretty colours, and people are giving you gifts.
Some of the best parties I’ve been to have been 50th’s or 60th’s, when someone manages to get about a trillion family and friends to show up, and there’s a delicate “roast” of the guest of honour. Everyone seems to have a good time, and the party flows in a casual way.
So I hope that I still love birthdays when I get older. And I hope that everyone comes and makes a big deal of me. And you better bring me expensive presents. I want something to display and something to play with. Other than that, alcohol is ALWAYS a winner.
Happy Birthday to Me. Hip-hip Hooray (that’s for the Canadians)


