Why this week sucks like no other

Let’s review, shall we?

First, my body decides to take the opportunity last Saturday to remind me that I am indeed female and the presence of a uterus has been detected within my person. It is still reminding me, in fact. And for some sad reason, I believe it will continue the reminder for at least another two weeks. Please tell me I’m premenopausal…please let this be the end of Fertile Amanda.

Then Tuesday comes and goes, and I fail to hear anything from anyone whom I invited to my birthday party this coming weekend, except for 3 people, one of whom RSVP’d a nay, one who won’t be popping in until the end, and another who will be popping in for an hour. I don’t know what happened to everyone else. Proof yet again that my birthday will always been a ton of suckage no matter what I do.

Yesterday, for the first time ever, I am declined the opportunity to donate blood to the Red Cross because my body has already donated enough of it to Playtex. I spend the rest of the day feeling like a damn failure.

And then today…I come in to work, check my e-mail, and there is this absolutely fantastic note from my supervisor stating that we are not allowed to take vacation from July 1st through July 21st due to some stupid project I know nothing about nor am even currently associated with…but apparently everyone and their dog needs to be here when it launches in July just in case we’re needed. For those of you who aren’t aware, I’m on vacation from July 16th through August 4th. Do the math.

I’m wondering if somewhere I kicked a puppy or smited a midget.

I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. I bet a limb drops off or my computer explodes into tiny bits. Or maybe that penis I’ve been joking about will finally sprout. Fanfuckingtastic.

And have I mentioned how much I hate birthdays? Since about the age of 12, my birthdays have been raging horrible disasters. The kind that make you afraid to grow older. The kind that make grown men quake in their boots. The kind that are mostly too awful to talk about. However, I shall give you some examples so you know I’m not lying.

14th Birthday: I am, for some unknown reason, locked in the hall closet by my “friends” while I am retrieving a bingo game. Not only do they sit outside and laugh their asses off, they run away and leave me in there when my mother comes let me out after hearing my terrified and angry shrieks from the backyard. I yell at everyone and they all storm out in the middle of the party, and somehow I’ve now become the asshole. I’m forced to apologize to every last one of them so I don’t spend the remainder of my 8th grade year a social pariah.

15th Birthday: After making a really horribly lame attempt at having a Double Dare birthday party (yes, the Nickelodeon game show), some friends rent a really stupid horror movie with lots of unexpected nudity. My parents walk in, bust us, and my friends feel so bad, they ALL LEAVE and go over to a nearby park to hang out for the rest of the evening, leaving me at home to clean up and sit by myself.

17th Birthday: My good friend Kristy comes to my party, along with my boyfriend and a few other friends. My boyfriend spends the entire night flirting with Kristy, making everyone (including Kristy herself) very uncomfortable. When I confront my boyfriend at the end of the night, he tells me I should chill out and deal with it because I’m just too paranoid sometimes. (Bonus info: I find out three weeks later that he’s written Kristy a note asking her out and telling her that I don’t mind if he dates two girls at once. News to me. Kristy gives me the note so I can confront him, and he dumps me on the spot, once again reiterating the apparent fact that I am too paranoid…huh?)

22nd Birthday: Everyone forgets my birthday. The end.

27th Birthday: A good buddy at work wants to take me out to lunch. I tell him I have an all-day meeting, but that our lunch break is typically around noon or so and I would be by his office as soon as we were let out. 12:30 I show up at his office, and he proceeds to yell at me for being late and then tells me I’m shit outta luck and stops speaking to me. I sit in my cubicle and end up bursting into tears. I return to my meeting, hungry, sad, and red-eyed.

And then there’s this year. I am being ignored by most of my invited guests (no RSVP whatsoever. No acknowledgement that invitations were even received), I am bloaty and totally menstrual, the entire week leading up to it has been shit, and now it’s supposed to rain on Saturday.

I think I’m going to just stop getting older.