September is my birthday month. I have looked forward to every birthday up until now. Usually I have a whopper of a party every year, and have one dickens of a time celebrating that I am a year older and continue to have achieved minimally between now and my last birthday.
But I’m not much in the mood for celebration. In fact, I just want to forget the whole affair altogether. Completely. Dreading. It. Am a trifle depressed about this whole birthday thing. Because I’m not sure who’d remember it besides my lovely parents; and I’m turning 26, meaning I’m closer to 30 than 21.
In a display of sheer coincidence, The Ant blogged today about how depressed she is about her birthday too. She always gets antsy about it, however.
On top of it, Virgos were clearly born at the worst part of the year. For the last three months, my stupid horoscope has been nothing short of disastrous. Virgos have basically had a run of shite since May. And birthday month or not, it’s not getting any better.
Instead of “You will feel happier on the 4th, money will come your way, you look ravishing,” Virgos are getting: “July is a terrible month for you. You might as well hibernate.” Maybe August will be better? Oh no, the fucking planetary constellations aren't quite done dishing out disappointment after disappointment to poor, unassuming Virgo.
“August, you’ll be inundated with work, but not necessarily be paid for it.” September? “You’re being victimised. As a result you become a wallflower and you look like shit."
Meanwhile, Libra seems to be all fun and games. As is Taurus.
“You have a packed social diary, everyone loves you, your admirers are endless and the dough is rolling in. Your sexual charisma is almost tangible.”
Christ, are you kidding me???
Virgos have been given the raw end of the deal this year, and I’ve had quite enough.
On top of celestial disaster, getting old, and fearing that no one will remember my birthday this year, September strikes again. It's going to be one dickens of an expensive month.
To do and buy this month:
1 x new electric car window
1 x new car license disc
1 x laboratory bill
1 x haircut
1 x half a birthday get together, shared with The Ant. (We’re merging this year – our birthdays are two weeks apart. At least we’re sharing, then we can pretend it’s just her birthday, not mine.)
Then if I have any moolah left whatsoever:
1 x summer heels
1 x white pants (the other pair falls off these days.)
1 x hot go-out shirt
1 x hamster
PS: In case you were wondering about the hamster:
Can we get a cat doll face? I'm settling in for spinsterhood, and perhaps it'll be easier if I have a furry creature with which to share it. It's not because I WANT a boyfriend. I really, really don't. I just want something I can squeeze every now and then. Do you hate cats?
No. Absolutely not. I am allergic and yes I hate cats. You hate cats too. So no. It’s a downhill slide from here if you get one. You’ll never get laid again.
See? So that's why I'm going to buy a hamster. And a supersonic cage that has all those tunnel thingies attached to it.