Celebrate Your Berf
Today is my birthday. I'm 27. Happy birthday. I'm one of those people who hates celebrating my birthday. Without fail, and these year was not an exception. This in turn has me even more upset, because if I don't like birthdays at 27, what kind of curmudgeon am I going to be at 60? To me birthdays are sort of like law school graduation: I'm sad to begin with, and then I become even sadder because everyone is acting like I should be happy.
"Go do something fun on your birthday," everyone keeps telling me. "Go celebrate." Here's how I celebrated: I spent $250. On what? Car maintenance. One of the plastic hinges on my door handle broke. The handle costs $26, but replacing it costs $115. I feel a little like President Barlet couldn't land Air Force One because the wheels' indicator light didn't come on.
LEO: Listen to me, are you listening? This is one of those things that sounds worse than it is. I can't tell you how many times this happens. It's a 30-cent piece of plastic.
BARTLET: Well, it should cost more, don't you think?