Happy Birthday to me…

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I love South Park…sometimes. Sometimes there are moments that just sticks with you. After an episode of Christmas political correctness where Mr Hanky (the poo you do on Christmas Eve) becomes the symbol for an inclusive, universal Christmas, the lone figure of Jesus sits at a long table set with party favours and decorations. A cake with burnt down candles sits before him as he sings quietly to himself,

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me…”

Today I understand poor Jesus no-friends.

My entire family forgot my birthday today zooming out of the house without a Happy Birthday. No surprise phone calls, no badly wrapped presents. Friends who usually text left my Inbox empty and even the girls at work (who gain the benefits of cake at every birthday and usually never miss an opportunity) were oblivious to the importance of the day.

And it’s not as if it’s an ordinary day. The 10 of October, 10.10.11. Last year I had great fun with the fact it was a binary date (10.10.10) and from my stats I know that many of you did too.

My only save was Facebook. When I checked my email I found dozens of Facebook updates all saying the same thing. Happy Birthday. Well I guess, if nothing else, Facebook loves me. Boy! That’s ironic!

 

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