"...you had a bad day, you're taking one down..."

So I've said time and time again that every year my birthday is horrible. Really, it is. I don't know who I killed in a previous life, but I'm fairly certain it was someone really special. Or defenseless puppies. I'm not really sure which. This year I turned 30. I have no qualms about being 30--I've felt 30 since I was about 17. The Boy went the extra mile to throw me a surprise birthday party on Saturday, which was A. a surprise and B. really fun but I waited for the other shoe to drop yesterday. And drop it did. I'm not going to go into details about what made my birthday as craptastic as it was, but let me assure you--it was probably one of THE crappiest birthdays I've had in a long time. I was pretty sure nothing could top last year's, but of course I was wrong. So instead of focusing on what a crappy day yesterday was, I thought maybe we could take a stroll down memory lane and visit previous birthdays from Hell. It all started when I was 18...
18th birthday: After a huge family fall-out, I moved in with my friend and her family who didn't do anything to celebrate my birthday. This isn't necessarily THEIR fault, I'm not their family, I was pretty much a "boarder." It just sucked to be without family and without birthday celebration! Especially for my "big day!"
19th Birthday: My little sister married a man 17 years older than her.
20th Birthday: I don't remember...must've blocked it out!
21st Birthday: This is when my friends realized how crappy my birthday was every year. My best friend decided to take me to Disneyland so it'd be great. She paid for EVERYTHING and it was so fun. Problem: we left the day AFTER my birthday. On my actual birthday I had a crappy day at work, including getting my birthday corsage (my work gave everyone a cute little corsage on their birthdays) in the name of "Debbie Z" instead of "Peggy Z" Nice.
22nd Birthday: on my mission! Should be great right? Except that one of the less-active old ladies that we visited every week told me she was miserable and planned on committing suicide. Which she did the day after I was transferred out of the area.
23rd Birthday: Released from my mission. On my birthday. Happy birthday, give me your nametag.
Birthdays after that are kind of a blur...last year, I was on my way to a baby shower (for which i had a horrible time trying to find a gift. I spent all morning shopping with a 2 year old who had a major meltdown in the middle of every store until appeased with orange juice) when aforementioned 2 year old threw up (I'm pretty sure) more orange juice than he drank. A feat possible only on my birthday, I think. So I spent my big day cleaning kid puke off of him, out of his carseat and my upholstry. Happy birthday to me. Oh wait, it gets better. My mother in law called while I was mid-damage control to helpfully remind me that all I need is an attitude adjustment to make my day better. (Disclaimer: my wonderful friend Jami kidnapped me that night and took me out for ice cream after dressing me in fairy wings, white gloves and a purple pimp hat. Ice cream makes EVERYTHING better!)
I won't go into details about what made yesterday so horrible--I just can't revisit that. Maybe next year. However, as usual, Jami to the rescue--when she brought me my birthday present ("Peggy's Big Bag of 30" and a sign listing 30 reasons why she (and her cute kids) love me) she suggested I celebrate "30 days of Peggy" for the next 30 days. I'm going to start today by taking a nap instead of mopping my floors and making phone calls. I had a crappy birthday and I'm feeling entitled! TAKE THAT UNIVERSE!