Don’t be fooled by the smiles depicted above: The pictures lie. I have a birthday curse.

I turned 23 last week, and, as my birthdays are always thoroughly cursed, I tried to ignore it. My housemates and their cards, presents, and persistent begging to come out and have a good time did not help matters, because the curse can not be thwarted.

I won’t get into the full extent of this year’s birthday curse, but let’s just say that, on the less crappy end of things, my left foot now features a toe that had someone’s drink glass shatter on it, and a toe that is broken from falling up the stairs to the kitchen.

Also, someone ate my entire birthday cake while I was out getting said glass smashed on my foot at Whisky Mist. And I hope they are reading this and feel massively guilty for that offense. Wait, scratch that. Person who ate my entire birthday cake: I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!!! Haha, you thought I’d put 3 and 0.14159 together and get pie, but I didn’t, my friend, I put it together and got YOU, you cake thief. And guess what: I am coming for you, in your sweet slumber, and I am going to Kinder Egg your face.

That is all.