happee birthdee to me! (tmit)

well, i thought i'd do a birthday tmit because...

a: i was actually BORN on a thursday (fate? i think so. coincidence? i think not)
2: i wanted everyone to know it's my birthday (yayeee! it's becky's birthday *throws glitter*)
and finally: i like to be apt. regardless of whether one can actually BE apt, this is apt. very, very apt. what?

my next hurdle was the tying inage of said birthday TO the tmit. i didn't know if it could be done. i mean. i still only have THE ONE pooping grandma left alive. just the one. and she, to my knowledge, has not ruined any of my birthdays by pooping on them. dodged that bullet. (right?)

well you've met my aunt. we all had tea together and talked about the current trends in bass fishing. everyone's going for bigger polls. and also shiny, shiny lures. i don't know why. anywho, let's stay on task, y'all. we're not talking about bass fishing, we're talking about grandma poop. wrong again. birthdays.

i've done many horrible, embarrassing things in my life. many. for reals. most of them did not happen on my birthday. they happened on other days. because, as you might be aware (unless you're a jehovah's witness.* i'll assume that you're not. because that's just crazy), birthdays come but one a year. they're a special occasion. they mark yet another year you've been on this planet. most of the time you eat cake and open loverly presents. from loverly people (hint, hint). most of the time they don't involve tiaras. in fact, most of the time, grown up people do not even wear tiaras.

most of the time.

however, nonetheless, regardless. this was not most of the time and i am not (for trues) a grown up person. add to that a soft spot for aunts who are cute and nice and funny and you have the perfect storm. the perfect tmit storm. plus i had recently recovered from food poisoning. (foreshadowing anyone?)

my aunt, mentioned above, is completely in love with tiaras. she has several and is always and forever trying to get people to wear them. ESPECIALLY if it's your birthday. she goes into super convincey overdrive. she puts on the charm and the smiles and the "who's your favorite aunts." it's intense. and for the record. i only have the one aunt.

there i was wearing a tiara.

then, as some times happens, the party ended and i headed home. this was bc (before chuck. i know. how could i even still be alive without chuck? how is that even possible? there was a lot bc, people. a lot. i LIVED!) and thusly, i was driving home alone. and as i was alone, i did not have anyone to tell me that i was still wearing a tiara. on my head. like a third-rate beauty queen.

well, so what? you might say. you're in your freakin car. who gives a bimble? the guy next to you at the red light? nope, he's not giving you a second glance. ok, maybe he's looking at you BUT the probable explanation for that might be related to your mad karaoke skillz.

i'll tell you "so what," missy! so what? i needed some last minute chocolate. for my birthday. everyone needs chocolate for their birthday. and this was no exception. my fam had given me cheese cake (yumm. but hard to digest after just having the food poisoning) but it hadn't quite hit the birthday spot and since i had to work the next day, i needed something more specialer.

i pulled up to the g-spot and realized that the dinner and minuscule piece of cheese cake i'd braved were making me feel a little queasy. i debated. i said, "well, you're already here, becky." and we all know, when you're "already" somewhere, you can soldier through and get the gd chocolate.

i went in the store. everyone was smiling at me. they must've know i was special. they must've known my birthday's today. i made it to the chocolate aisle. they have wide selection. as i'm standing there i have to slightly bend over when a larger wave of nausea hits me in the gut. a cold sweat breaks out.

"can i help you find anything, ma'am?" says a pimple faced box monkey. "no, i'm fine." i say faintly. if i'm going to blow, it ain't gonna be here. not here. please jesus. not HERE.

jesus forsook me and made me say, "um?" to my boxy friend's back. he turned and i said, "bathroom? pl-" i threw up the "ease" part into my mouth. and then the crying started. silent tears of misery and puke. i made it to the bathroom without dripping on anything. *high five* except my shirt. *ooohh* the toilet was a nightmare. i do not recommend albertson's bathrooms for comfortable puking.

i spent the next ten minutes thinking i might never breathe again. that and wondering what the brown bits at the back of the toilet were. i hate puking (as jillee can attest to and sympathize with). when it seemed to be over, i rinsed my mouth, dried my bitter, bitter tears, straightened my tiara- wait. i'm wearing a tiara? in the grocery store? my life. is over.

and that's the time i found out jesus hates me. while wearing a tiara.


*well, maybe they do because they are deliberately choosing to not celebrate their birthdays. so they probably have to be careful. just in case. you don't want to accidentally celebrate and then find out later (maybe on your driver's license? i don't know) that you happened to be celebrating on your birthday. and then you're like, "GODAMMIT!" except if you were a jay dub then you'd more likely be like, "SHUCKS!" ps to the asterisk: i knew a girl who was a jay dub (she left) and she was a raging bee. and also evil and just a horrible all around person. anywho, they don't celebrate their birthdays, weird! oh, yeah. we already went over that. i don't know why this part is in here at all.

ps i would also like to point out (here comes a little taste of my personal brand of crazy) that the date is 9-3-9 and the time posted is 3:33am. threes, bitches. usually all of my posts are posted at this time and when they're not they are divisible by three. see? i'm not weird at all.

you can blame this altogether to much information on the lovely and talented lilu and read some other biz here (where they aaaaall are for you! from the lilu)