Birthday announcements in kindergarten are like the NBA revealing their latest draft pick. That day everyone likes everything you say and do. DMs blowing up like: “Yo, you got cakes?” “Wow, you’re so good at elemenopees; teach me during naptime?”
Sadly, every day wasn’t my birthday. In regular life, I longed to play in our two-story preschooler sized playhouse. But my teacher only allowed five students at a time. The house was first come, first serve. So, only the people sitting nearest and their friends got to play.
My only shot at getting in that house was to abandon my sticky placemat and leap over several desks like some krazed kindergarten kangaroo. Yes, an hour in time out for a five-minute nap in the loft definitely seems worth it!
After my failed attempts, I’d try to join the popular girls in playing mermaid.
“We have enough mermaids,” was why they excluded me. I knew Rebecca was a Mermaid Ice Queen, didn’t realize she was also Queen of Mermaid ICE.
How can there be too many mermaids swimming in an imaginary sea?! We’re literally just running around the schoolyard screaming Disney lyrics. Nothing is stopping me from running so just make it official! See, this is how mermaid murderers are born?Everything changed on my birthday. I suddenly had access to the VIP section a.k.a playhouse’s loft and the mermaids fast-tracked my green card.
Finally, the moment all those thirsty DM thots plotted for had arrived; it was time to share my treats and pick my special birthday helpers.
In kindergarten, picking birthday helpers was like NFL players deciding which thots to smash in the orgy after a night of clubbing.
Those girls wanting to “help” distribute my birthday treats were aggressive like strippers upselling patrons to the champaign room.
I should have chosen my real friends because — spoiler alert — there’s no sex in the champagne room just like there’s no friendship after your birthday.
I was a fool drunk on VIP perks. Unfortunately, like many new star athletes, I learned that every VIP perk has a price.
The next day when I strolled up to the house like I owned it, I was told to get to the back of the line with the rest of the playhouse hopefuls. It turns out kindergarteners don’t obey rental property laws and will evict you without notice — even though they ate a year’s worth of rent in the form of cupcakes and pizza.
And I wasn’t allowed to play mermaid because b!tch#s.
When the same thing happened the next year, I declared birthdays were trash. Now I eat my birthday cake solo every year.
Shout out to all the Grinches stealing Christmas and all the birthday peeps who cry at their parties.
Award-winning Caribbean comedian, Onicia Muller regrets leaving St. Maarten for windy Chicago. Her weekly humour column, Just Being Funny is chicken soup for the naive sceptic’s soul. Join her newsletter for funny stories and stand-up comedy. OniciaMuller.com/JBF.