The Birthday Curse

Several years ago, after a string of crappy and/or thwarted observances, I decided that my birthday was cursed. This isn't surprising - I naturally tend towards paranoia and self-pity, so believing in the odd personal curse is to be expected. Don't even get me started on my red wine curse. Anyway, the birthday curse is fairly well delineated: it began on my eighteenth birthday and can only be avoided by ignoring the event completely. Proof? Oh, I got proof...

18 - Ah yes, the intro to adulthood. My older sister decided to help me celebrate by letting me tag along on her usual rounds. She's always been much more of a social butterfly, thus a regular night out required us to hit about five bars and meet up with a dozen people. The evening culminated at the Ship and Anchor, where she introduced me to a table of people and then left me there while she went to another bar. I spent a good couple hours waiting for her to come back, listening to random guys talk about guitar string and drinking way too much beer in an effort to keep up. Numerous girl drinks + several pints of Warthog = bad news for the barely legal. I celebrated my entry into adulthood by throwing up in the bathroom of the 17th avenue Boston Pizza...

19 - Admittedly, I don't really remember. My guess would be something involving the Republik and beer, which was already starting to lost its allure...

20 - I had been working at A&W for about six months when my 20th birthday rolled around. It was hellish even by the standards of teenage fast food jobs, mainly because of a amusingly demented boss who had obviously gotten into 'the food service industry' because it offered her almost unlimited bullying opportunities. Such was the economy at the time that nobody could risk quitting or getting fired - it could take months to find another crappy job (it makes me jealous now, to see how places go begging for workers - signing bonuses, wages way above the minimum, kids hired on the spot. When I was in high school, any job that did not involve fries could ask for a degree) Anyway, back to the curse: after a long morning filled with verbal abuse, I checked the upcoming schedule and saw that I was booked to work two full days the next week - my birthday and the day after. Suddenly, I knew I couldn't possibly do it. Fries and misery was okay while I was still a teenager, but as soon I turned 20 it would make me feel like a hopeless loser. In one moment I realized it, and it couldn't be undone - today was my last day.

Of course, my manager lost it, my mother was livid, my father disappointed, even my friends and boyfriend were concerned. Which made it a fairly crappy birthday, with everyone shaking their heads because I was 20 now, and should be more responsible. (on the upside, the rest of my last day was awesome. You have no idea how funny a screaming fastfood manager is when you don't care anymore. Comic gold, people)