Poopie Birthday

A few years ago, my son had a bad fever and was up all night in hysterical delirium. (It was pretty great.) He didn't have many words yet, but the one phrase we could make out was "poopie birthday." He just kept saying 'poopie birthday.' I don't know why; I'm guessing his dreams were something along the lines of the following stories.

As promised, here are some sad birthday stories to make us all laugh and feel better about ourselves. Thank you to my lovely readers for submitting! You guys are so much cooler than those other readers who didn't.

1. "Green Thumb, Blue Birthday"

I was a physical therapist in south central Indiana in 2000, working on a masters degree, and feeling like I should get a second job. It would have been smart to get a job as a P.T., as I would earn welllll over minimum wage, but instead chose a minimum wage job at a garden center. I was scheduled to work on my b-day, and since I had no other plans (insert sympathetic sigh), I worked. For 12 hours, I potted baby Ajuga- buggle weed- it is a purplish green ground cover you could easily mistake for a weed. 

I was in Ajuga Hell.

To this day, I hate Ajuga. It is horrendous. And there was a very annoying know-it-all kid working with me that kept taking breaks. I was so mad when I  got home, I just cried.

-- Becky M.

2.  "Can I get this cake in an IV?"

It was December 5, 2009, the night before my 29th birthday.  My then-boyfriend, now-husband took me out for dinner at an Italian restaurant across the street from my apartment where we enjoyed a delicious three-course meal.

Here's the thing about delicious, rich meals though: with increasing frequency as I approached my 29th birthday, I was throwing them up.  Not because I wanted to, mind you.  I just couldn't keep them down.  I talked to my doctor about it, who gave me some heartburn medication, which didn't really help at all.  I'd almost gotten used to it: eat something rich and creamy, throw up in the middle of the night, go back to normal the next day.  So, somewhat predictably, I woke up in the middle of the night on December 5, the day before my 29th birthday, and threw up.  And threw up.  And threw up.  And curled up in a miserable ball on the bathroom floor and cried until finally my then-boyfriend now-husband made me get in the car and go to the emergency room at 4:00 am (now officially my 29th birthday).  Do you know how many times you have to give your date of birth at the hospital?  Awkward.  Anyway, I spent my 29th birthday having my gallbladder removed, which was a real blast.  

At least when people asked me what I thought about turning 30, I could tell that story and be like, "Well, it can't be worse than turning 29."

-- Mary B. F. 



Finally, this one was sent to me via text, so I turned it into a dramatic poem. It's called:

3. "Your Muscles Do Not Impress Me, Sir"

21st Birthday
During finals
Very sick
(Strep throat I think)
Dead sober
South Bend Stripper

-- Brigid B.

 
So, the next time you're feeling disappointed because your co-workers got you a cheap cake rather than a sweet one from Costco, remember these tales of woe. Then just laugh, laugh, laugh.