Kiss me now that I'm older.

Yupp, I'm 17. Fabulous, innit? Not really.

I've never been one who gets super excited about birthdays. All that attention is just too much for me. Today everyone sang "Happy Birthday" to me in five classes. It's ridiculous, because all I can do is bury my face in my hands and pray it ends sooner.

What are you supposed to do when people sing "Happy Birthday" to you anyways? Just sit there? It's awkward simply sitting and smiling. It makes you look like a freak. Part of me is tempted to sing along, but then everyone stops and yells at me for singing along. As a result, I feel pretending I'm not there and trying to hide under my desk is the best option.

Not a bad birthday, all in all. My favorite part was when my best friend brought in  "It's a Boy!" balloon to school this morning and gave it to me. The entire day I was forced to be the subject of shock and contempt from all my teachers and classmates (until I explained, of course). There's a likelihood that everyone considers me the unexpected slut, though.

My sister sent me this as well:

Oh, siblings. What birthday gift could possibly be greater than that?

I love my gifts, though. One of my closest friends finally got me the Foster the People and new Florence and the Machine CDs, knowing I'm broke as hell. My mom got me my Kindle, which I've been wanting forever, an eBook gift card, the Crazy, Stupid, Love DVD and money. My sister's taking me out to a movie and dinner tomorrow, and my brother and sister-in-law got me an enormous box of chocolates and money. My grandma also gave me the usual cash.

Not that you care about what gifts I got anyways. I felt it was kind of a "it's a birthday post, so of course I have to brag about the fabulous gifts I got because I'm a stuck up bitch" kind of thing. (Technically I was supposed to hyphenate that quoted sentence, but you all probably would have stabbed me).

Tomorrow my friends are hosting a surprise party (but not really, since I know about it) in my honor. That should be fun.

Well, then. I'm going to go now because this post couldn't possibly be more lame. The 40+ Facebook birthday posts await my graces.