Fuck you, Boxing Day. And take St Stephen with you.
Once upon a time, in 1977, your beloved Hostess was supposed to be born on Christmas Day.
Yeah, and I was going to be named Noel. Thankfully, on that part, I was stubborn. My great aunt's dog was named Noel. Do I fucking look like Indiana Jones? Despite My penchant for whips...
So 4ish hours late, there I was. All cute and newborn and cranky at the chilly hospital air. Happy birthday to Me. Oh, also Happy Boxing Day!
For a while, it was rather ace to have a birthday the day after Christmas. Extra presents! Wooohooo! Oodles of gifts for miles. My mother's side of the family did well and, in general, the presents were a plenty.
This was until I turned oh... maybe 12? Then it was "oh hay, have a combination present!"
Let's examine this with some visual aids, shall we?
This is a standard calender for the month of December.
Do we see how the 25th and the 26th have separate boxes? Yes well, I tried to explain to My folks that My gifts should come that way too. Didn't go over too well. Heh.
But this tail isn't really about how greedy of a child I was. It's about another plague to childhood birthdays that tend to linger into adulthood.
When yer a kid, parties are THE SHIT. Not only that but they are a huge part of social status and social development. So yeah. Parties. Hard to have when everyone is doing the family thing or the traveling to family thing for Christmas. Add to that the fact that all your friends have broke parents from all that Christmas shopping!
Oh! And then it became popular amongst the playground A list to have POOL PARTIES. Also, hard to do around Christmas time. In upstate New York.
Flash forward to oh... now. Same situation. People are either not around, tuckered out from Christmas, broke from Christmas, or saving up their Party Hard for New Years. It's been the same ol' story throughout My teen and adult years so far. Except the Important Years. 21 and 30.
What's a gal to do? This year is especially tricky. Christmas is the weekend. My birthday is a SUNDAY. Sunday??? Lame! Fail! Do not want! I like to spend My party time at the nudie bar and it's almost a pariah thing to do to party on a Sunday. Have you SEEN the tumbleweeds at the nudie bars on Sundays? Non-holiday weekend Sundays?
I could weep.
So nix that idea.
The weekend before maybe? Well... maybe. But folks are getting the last minute holiday shopping done so it tends to boil down to broke + tired + holiday bleh.
Ok so what's left?
The weekend AFTER My birthday! Right? Right?
Wrong. That would be NEW YEARS.
I'm doomed to celebratory blacklisting this year. FML. I should just legally change My name to Samantha Baker.