Okay, my birthday was in November. (As luck would have it, it will be in November this year as well.) Basically, the idea for this blog has been swimming in my head since then, but it never occurs to me when I finally sit down to write. Today it finally came to the front of my brain.
On my birthday, I went to EJ Phair's Brewpub. It was a really cool time, as my wife, sister-in law and her boyfriend, my in-laws, and several of my friends showed up to celebrate with me. They have some decent food there (some kinda blah, some downright tasty) and they have some great beers on tap. (Honestly, I think that their beers are only good, but they usually have great guest beers on tap as well.)
I had quite a few beers, and my friends and I got appropriately boisterous. It looked like everybody was enjoying themselves. As coincidence would have it, apparently other people were born on the 24th of November as well. Some of them even like beer. So, there was a table of partiers right next to mine. The friends and family of the other birthday boy sang the Happy Birthday song to him.
On my way home, I noticed something. My friends didn't sing the song to me.
And you know what? I was really glad that they didn't! The truth is, I hate the Happy Birthday song. I hate singing it, and I hate having it sung to me. I always feel like such a tool while I sit there while everybody sings it. I don't know what the hell to do with myself. I try to force a smile, but I just feel awkward. I also hate singing it to others, mainly because I'm not a good singer, but I have a loud voice, and I'm afraid that mine will dominate and everybody will go, "Who the hell is skinning a cat?" (In my own personal hell, I have to work in one of those restaurants where they make the employees sing those really cheesy and stupidly elaborate birthday songs.)
So please, next November 24, wish me a happy birthday, but there's no need to embarass the both of us with that damn song.