This past Monday was my 30th birthday and if you didn’t say “Happy Birthday” by now, you’re already too late. I don’t care. Birthday’s are weird, right? Especially since the creation of the Facebook. I think Mark Zuckerberg created Facebook so he could have a database of all his friends’ birthdays. That’s not true. Mark Zuckerberg created Facebook because he had no friends and thought it would help, or was it because of his ex-girlfriend, Rooney Mara? It doesn’t matter why he did it, what matters is that he ruined birthdays.

Remember a time before Facebook? I’m talking pre-2004. When people had to remember their friends’ birthdays in their brain, or on a calendar. You would have to call your closest friends at 12:01 on their birthday, which later became a text anytime between 12:01 and 12:15. When you remembered someone’s birthday it was sweet, it could’ve even been enough to get someone to like you (not Facebook ‘Like,’ but like a real-life LIKE).

Then Facebook came along and ruined it. Now we’re bombarded daily with everyone’s birthdays and there’s no excuse to forget it. Also, you have to make a choice:

It’s Stacy’s birthday today! Hm, is Stacy a phone call friend? A text message friend? A Facebook post friend? A Facebook message friend? Do I give her a Facebook post and a text message? Do I call her at midnight, but then write on her wall tomorrow? What should I write on her wall? Just Happy Birthday? Happy Bday? Maybe just HBD, but that sounds like some weird kind of disease. Definitely not HBD. How about something more personal? Should I write a joke about that one time we kissed on the mouth? Should I make her an Instagram collage? Maybe a special tweet?

Facebook has now opened a can of birthday worms, and this can is opened daily. Some days there are like 10 birthdays, and I’m forced to choose my top 2 to 4 of them and write those people a message.

[TANGENT ALERT!] Do you know someone who gets really, really excited anytime they find out they share their birthday with someone else? Hey idiot! There are about 7.125 billion people in the world, but there’s only 365 days in each year, I think you’re going to share your birthday with a few people. Like million of them. (Also, I get excited about this too, unless it’s a shitty person).

When you think about it, birthdays shouldn’t really be that special. You didn’t do anything to be born. Birthdays are like buttholes, because everyone has one. Even Hitler had a birthday, and a butthole. So, that’s two things you now have in common with Hitler.

If anything we should give our parents gifts on our birthday, like the way Jesus does it. He sends his buddy, Scott Calvin a.k.a. Santa Claus to hand out gifts to everyone (as long as you’re a Cathy). I’m pretty sure this is how Santa got his job:

Hey Jesus! What you gonna do for your birthday?

Uh… I’m gonna give everyone presents!

Everyone?

Yup! Everyone! Well, everyone who believes in me.

Well, you better get started. You got a lot of followers.

I’m not gonna do it myself.

What? Who’s gonna give out presents for your birthday to other people?

Shoot! I’ll have that old dude that lives up North do it.

He’s got those magical deer.

You mean Old Saint Nick!

Yeah, him! What else is he gonna do on my birthday?

We don’t have to give presents to everyone for our birthday, just to our parents (but maybe not, because parents each have their own special day).

Even though birthday’s aren’t really that special I will continue to celebrate yours, mine and ours. And I will continue to post on your walls, text you, call you, Instagram collage you, and whatever new technology comes out. I’ll even WUPHF.com you if I have to. So, happy birthday to me and to everyone else this year.

THE END!