The downside of being born in January is that everyone is broke from Christmas, so I end up with the leftover giftsets like a blush and eyeshadow palette meant for white Europeans or a Far Side desk calendar with the good pages torn out.
What kind of blows about being born on January 20 is that it’s also the Inauguration Day, so every four years some guy takes the spotlight from me just because he was elected. Whatever! Damn you, US Constitution, with your freaking 20th Amendment getting in the way of my celebratory goals.
A few times Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday has also fallen on January 20 and there’s an unwritten rule that says, “This is MLK Day, so don’t complain jerkface!” I mean, I don’t want to be the a-hole who shifts the federal holiday focus back onto myself, even though this is my freaking birthday. Yeah, I’m looking at you, Civil Rights Movement!
I’m 24 today which means that I’m too old for raging keggers, Girls Gone Wild and Playboy’s Girls of West Seattle or even their Girls of Saipan Special Edition.
But I’m not too old to use my pointy high-heels to pervert the sign at the Fauntleroy Blockbuster. Sexy time!