trainsaw.com

Last Update: 12.14.03

Happy birthday, jerk

Some things should never be allowed to happen. Unfortunately, instead of doing something about it, I just make fun of the people who do it instead. Come to think of it, that really isn't all that unfortunate.

The really unfortunate thing is that whenever it's someone's birthday, some jerk always has to point it out to everyone. You know the basic scenario: you're sitting in a restaurant eating with your friends, and then all of a sudden, the waiters all start singing some sort of Nazi propaganda birthday chant crap. It's never the real birthday song, it's something like "Olive Garden Olive Garden, worship us! worship us! Happy birthday to you, bow down and pay homage." So they chant that to some poor fool who is probably thinking about how much he wants to kill himself at that very moment, or else how much it sounds like a requiem chant from the Russian Orthodox Church. But this is all relieved by the fact that he gets a free piece of cake. I've got an idea, instead of bringing that jerk some cake, how about you take my order? He doesn't need cake, he's fat anyway.

I'm pretty sure my mom tried to pull a stunt like that once and I punched her directly in the thorax. I probably got grounded for it too, but it was definitely worth teaching her a valuable life lesson. I make the sacrifice of teaching a life lesson to none other than my parents, the people I respect the most, and I got grounded. I hate being grounded.

Now that I'm in college (and finally ungrounded) I never expected any of my peers to sing "Happy Birthday" in public. Naturally, using their ability to be huge morons, they proved me wrong. One day, while I was waiting to pay for my meal, this jerk announced to the world that it was "Joe's Birthday." I'm pretty sure his name wasn't Joe, but I was too busy thinking about how I wished it was my birthday and that somebody had bought me a brand new laser gun with absolutely no safety features built in. And made of a material that doesn't collect fingerprints. Everybody would see me unwrap it and yell "surprise!" and "Happy Birthday!" and would try to start singing the song, but it'd turn out to be a lot more like "Happy birthday to POOF"

The moral of this story is this: Don't punch your mom in the thorax.