So, I'm about to be old. Really, really old. Old enough to be your father old. Old enough for people to describe the decades of my childhood as a pre-technological wasteland. Old enough that people younger than me die of natural causes. Old enough to know better. Old as...
|Two things I'm older than.|
Oh, right, I've got a birthday coming up. Now, as you know, I do awesome things on my birthday every year, but I've been running out of awesome things to do. I needed more awesomeness. A birthday concept with a lot of awesomeosity.
I decided on microbirthdays; I would travel to friends's homes with cake, candles, and drinks to share. I even created a form so people could submit birthday requests.
Nobody submitted any requests.
At first I was a bit disappointed (i.e. hurt) and became despondent (i.e. angry). Then I had an uncomfortable epiphany (i.e. night of drunkenness). I was being selfish (i.e. normal for me). I should use my birthday to bring joy to others (i.e. losers I don't know). I would buy dozens of small cakes and bring them to a homeless shelter on my birthday. They'd get a nice cake, and I'd get the gratitude of many, maybe they'd sing happy birthday.
Then I had another uncomfortable epiphany (i.e. disturbing moment of clarity that puts my character and history into doubt). I was still being selfish. I needed to do something selfless.
This is Birthday Wishes. They throw birthday parties for homeless children. So far, they've donated tens of thousands of them. I'm going to take the money I was going to spend on a birthday party and send it to them.
Here's what I want you to do:
If you were going to buy me a present, just send that money to them.
If you were going to buy me a card, just sent that money to them (plus a little more, I'd hope).
If you were going to wish me a happy birthday, send them a lot of money as penance for being a cheap bastard.
Now that is an awesome birthday.