Happy birthday to me. My parents did everything they could to make me hate this holiday, now that I'm an adult and no longer Dr. Freud's perfect client, I can say that of all the holidays, I only love Groundhog Day and Easter.

Groundhog Day. That's because of the movie, of course. Bill Murray on one hand spends years trying to get Andie MacDowell, which is dumb, but on the other hand he gets better and better for himself. Something I've always dreamed of and never had and probably never will.

Easter. It's hard to explain. There's no logic. I don't care what Jesus did on that day, I'm not really interested in the whole story with colored eggs and bunnies and chocolate. I don't care about the pagan past of the holiday either. I think it's because of the weather. At Easter I feel the life of the planet and I like it.

Let's get back to birthdays. I usually try to go somewhere and just walk along the streets. Because of that, my birthday is a little better for me than it used to be.