I think I need to get away this weekend. Let me explain.
I have a friend – and I’ll leave her name out because she’ll know who she is in about two seconds – who is on Facebook. Right before she joined she was given some safety advice:
“Don’t use your real birthday because people can steal your identity.”
We discuss this every year in August at about the time of her birthday. I admire her fortitude for not changing her profile to her correct birthday date. Way to not give into peer pressure, friend! Even if most of the pressure comes from me.
My first year on Facebook I left my birthday off. But after wishing every single person on the planet a happy birthday the following year – I added mine. If I’m going to wish you a “happy, happy birthday” I want the same in return. And yes, I keep track. But in mature fashion not in a totally childish, petty way.
I try to be respectful. If a friend’s birthday doesn’t pop up in the reminder window then who am I to blab his or her secret? I wish that person a “happy day for whatever reason ;)” Yep, I’m so clever.
Today Facebook said it was her birthday. “No, it’s not,” I said. To be honest, my alter-ego Ms. Cranky Pants has been rearing her grumpy head again causing trouble. It happens every year when I return from my road trip and I’m a little disappointed my better offer didn’t magically fall in my lap a la any Hallmark movie. One day it will. But not this year. So, Ms. Cranky Pants has surfaced and is living up to her name. Thanks to her, I am due for a stern talking-to at work. Thanks for that Ms. Pants.
So, I have been a bit of a cranky stinker. “It’s not her birthday,” I complained. “I’m not going to wish her a second happy birthday.” Because, as you know, to wish somebody a second happy birthday in one year will pretty much cause the apocalypse to rain down.
Later in the day as I perused Facebook posts I saw how a mutual friend handled it: “I’m so glad I get to wish you another happy birthday!”
Well poop. It might be time for Ms. Cranky Pants to get out of town.