Shitty Attitude

The closer I get to my birthday, the shittier I feel. → True Story.

I've never been a huge fan of my birthday for several reasons; namely they always suck. OK, maybe not that many reasons after all.

Let's take a gander on back on birthday's O'Marisa.

• Although I was already 6-weeks, I count the death of my father as my first birthday "awesomeness"
• When I turned 5 there was a major blizzard
• Around 7 or 8 my childhood home was broken into (I can even recall seeing birthday cards on the table as my mom was talking to police officers in our kitchen)
• Next major birthday was 15... My quincenera. There were so few amount of people that I can vividly remember a guest saying, "where is everyone" as she walked right in front of me.
• For my 21st birthday, I had a bloody mary in TGI Fridays with my mom. (OK, so that wasn't bad.)
• My 24th (or 25th) was actually pretty stellar but I got so wasted that I ended up laying on top of a desk when I went to work the next day. (Again, true story)
• Then we have the one in which I invited tons of folks from my job and only 1 of them showed up. I think I was about 30 Good news is, my boyfriend (at the time) invited a few of his guys that actually showed. 
• Oh and then we have one of the few times in my Mommy life that we had a sitter. My hubs went through the work of taking me to one of my fave food spots and invited 2 of my closest friends. Fast forward to the actual dinner and my "best-friend" at the time walked in complaining about how far she had to travel to the restaurant and then shitted all over the place because they didn't have avocado. 
• I'm not sure if this was the following year, but my good, good friend offered to host a dinner at her place. It was actually awesome, until my "best-friend" at the time walked in complaining once more.
• Oh and there was another year that I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but ended up eating alone because my cell phone battery died and she never actually walked into the restaurant. Yea, I found this out after going into a cell store for a battery swap and subsequently listening to a voicemail left for me in which I was called every name but a child of God. 

The in-between years didn't really have much in terms of major memories, hence only mentioning the aforementioned years. But I think you get my drift. When it comes to my birthday I literally wait for the other shoe to drop. Whether it's me supplying my own dinner or having to do chores because the house ain't gonna clean itself!

Anywho, I don't know how to get out of this "funk". Perhaps I'm creating some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy but when all you know is shit, you kinda get used to the smell. Get my drift?

So you'll have to excuse my shitty attitude for the next week or so.

*Marisa, signing off...

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