The last birthday I enjoyed was number 30: I had a big party, knocked back several litres of mojitos, and polaroids were taken to immortalise the event. It was the occasion of my last ‘proper’ hangover, as I realised a couple of days later that I was pregnant. Got very out of practice after that and haven’t properly regained by beer legs since then.
I don’t remember what I did last year for 31. 32 doesn’t feel like much cause for celebration. This year has after all seen me go from Mademoiselle to Madame at the bakers shop. Even though I have no wedding ring. And no-one tries to grope me in the metro any more.
Miss Tadpole woke up on her birthday to a living room full of balloons. I woke up this morning to comatose Frog with hangover and the usual race against the clock to get Tadpole and I out of the door on time, preferably wearing clean clothes. No-one at work remembered. My boss took me out for lunch, but I realised that this was in fact a coincidence as the subject of my birthday didn’t come up during conversation.
As family and friends are mostly in the UK, they sent cards with vague promises of gifts next time I’m over. The card from my mother featured Miffy and was intended more for the Tadpole’s pleasure than my own. Even my present from the Frog – a mini camera so I can post pics to this blog – hasn’t been delivered yet.
So, YES, you’re damn right I’m feeling sorry for myself.
Have a heart: post your worst birthday ever story into the comments below to cheer me up.
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petite anglaise 
Sorry to hear about your blues… I tend to get this way around birthday time too. This year was the first that overseas gifts didn’t come in (stating we’d do something in a month and a half when I’m visiting instead), and as much as I don’t want to sound materialistic, that little bit of mail really seems to brighten the day.
And so, I wish you a happy birthday, my fellow virgo.
Comment by kim — September 23, 2004 @ 12:12 pm
OOOh I got a goodie for you.
This was ages ago, before I dreamt of meeting my hubby and moving to France; back when I was dating “The Fetus” as my friends called him (him being 3 years younger than me).
Longish story shorter: we went to Atlanta, him being a baseball fan, and I just thought it would be fun. Didn’t realize when I booked the tickets that they were in the sun the whole time. He’s a redhead, I’m rather pale myself, so the night ended in a spectacular room with a king sized bed in a well known hotel, with him vomitting from sun poisoning and me so burnt I had to literally peel my forarm back from the upper part of my arm.
Me: “Please dont touch me.”
Him: “gurgle muarf.”
See? Yours is infinately better.
Comment by ViVi — September 23, 2004 @ 12:13 pm
Three years ago my Girlfriend’s mum died on my birthday. A few days later was another family birthday and it was the September 11th attacks.
September always seems such a lovely month to me but also a sad one too: end of the summer, back to school, season of mellow fruitfulness just around the corner, etc.
* Thinks – you probably wanted something funny/sad, rather than just sad/sad *
Well, anyway, Happy Birthday from another Virgoer. I can never remember what our characteristics are supposed to be. Isn’t being terrific at hows-your-father meant to be one of them?
Comment by Tim — September 23, 2004 @ 12:13 pm
When I was seven, a lot of planning went into birthdays. I had the guest list worked out and the day’s outing booked: a trip to the Whipsnade, I think. Then I came down with measles – no MMR in those long ago days – and I was kept in isolation in a darkened room for 3 weeks, no reading allowed and NO visitors. Missed the whole Easter vacation, but at least I didn’t go blind. Recovered just in time to go back to school for the summer term.
Comment by Ruth — September 23, 2004 @ 12:13 pm
I thought virgos were meant to be critical, picky, obsessively tidy and a bit frigid actually.
But I prefer your version Tim.
Oddly, the comments on my site cheered me up more than the Frog putting a candle and n° 32 on our takeaway pizza… Pizza and champagne. Classy. I may live in Paris but I think my Parisian chic needs a bit of work.
Seriously though – I am going for a posh meal on Saturday in the lovely Blue Elephant Thai restaurant. So don’t feel too sorry for me.
Comment by petite anglaise — September 23, 2004 @ 12:14 pm
Oh sweetie, what a miserable one. My 35th was this Saturday, spent all alone sulking. Partner at a conference, (step)kids at their mum’s. Just 3 birthday cards, from partner, kids, and a friend from the gym. Missed the train to meet a friend for lunch — and then the washing machine died in mid-spin. Spent the next day at the laundrette with hot and grumpy partner — who finally said to me yesterday, “I didn’t buy you a birthday present, did I?” At least (and I am pathetically grateful for this) the washing-machine got fixed for the grand sum of £55.58. Nothing tragic, but not what a girl really wants when she’s half way to 70.
Comment by Eleanor — September 23, 2004 @ 12:14 pm
I used to be a bit depressed by spending my birthdays in the UK, where no gift are ever delivered on time [or delivered at all], so I decided to splash a few lovely sterlings into a return flight home to celebrate with my family. On the day, between “fromage et dessert”, my dad got mad at me ’cause I was mildly arguing with my brother. He left the table, shouting, leaving my mum very disapointed and very reprochfull, and me without birthday cake, or gift. I flew “home” the next day, keeping a very bitter memory of my 21st birthday I ought to have spent with my UK friends.
Comment by Emilie [mimile] — September 23, 2004 @ 12:14 pm
13th birthday – my sister gave me concussion, the IRA blew up my presents and the guy next door committed suicide. How we laughed.
Here: http://www.geocities.com/coleman66uk/life/birthday.html
Comment by scaryduck — September 23, 2004 @ 12:15 pm
Happy belated birthday! I’m lucky to get a card from my mom on my birthday. Once you hit a certain age, people just don’t give a crap.
Comment by cass — September 23, 2004 @ 12:15 pm
I dont think I have a birthday related tale of woe for you, but I will wish you a belated very happy birthday.
And get the frog to get a babysitter and take you out to look for those beer legs.
Comment by watski — September 23, 2004 @ 12:16 pm
Watski if you really wanted to make my day you would finally get round to blogrolling me… Pretty please…
Comment by petite anglaise — September 23, 2004 @ 12:16 pm
Please accept my humble apologies, I havent updated in a while. Will do straight away.
Comment by watski — September 23, 2004 @ 12:16 pm
I didn’t even get a thirtieth birthday, let alone a 31st, 32nd, 33rd, got lunch for 34th. hmmmph.
Comment by vit — September 23, 2004 @ 12:17 pm