(Friend 1 is sitting on a chair in the kitchen, staring into empty space, when the phone rings)
Friend 1: (Stares at the ringing phone in confusion for a few moments, then answers it) Heeeyyy???
Friend 2: Hiiiii!!! Happy Birthday!
Friend 1: It’s not my birthday.
Friend 2: …Since when?
Friend 1: We all only ever get one birthday: the rest are just anniversaries, celebrating the day of our birth.
Friend 2: Oh for crying out – Happy Anniversary, then.
Friend 1: Thanks, but it’s a bummer.
Friend 2: Why? This year you said you wanted to do, and I quote, “Absolutely Nothing,” and it’s not a dreaded milestone like 150 or something.
Friend 1: I know, but it’s making me look back on my steadily accumulating years of life and realize that, yes, I really have done nothing of concrete value in pretty much any of them.
Friend 2: Would you please go volunteer at the animal shelter or literacy center already so this recurring theme’ll finally be a moot point?
Friend 1: I’m too lazy.
Friend 2: Well then, why even bring it up?
Friend 1: I’m also thinking back on my birthdays as a kid –
Friend 2: Ah-ah, don’t you mean “anniversaries”?
Friend 1: I was ignorant of the true meanings of those words at the time. Anyway: all those fun, unnecessary celebrations. Why do we make a big deal of the day we were thrust into this cold, uncaring world? Is it to make up for the other 364 that are horrific?
Friend 2: They’re not always that bad.
Friend 1: Regardless. Why do we throw destructive parties or fly out to Las Vegas or eat an entire cake or a combination of all these things on the same day in the Earth’s rotation around the Sun just to mark off another year down the drain?
Friend 2: If you want a serious answer, I don’t have one.
Friend 1: It’s just so odd. Whose idea was it that everyone should want to highlight the day showing you’re one more year closer to death?
Friend 2: If I go back in time to find out, would you shut up about it then?
Friend 1: Maybe. I just find the whole birthday business a very strange habit.
Friend 2: Well, think of it as having survived another year instead, if that makes you feel better.
Friend 1: It doesn’t.
Friend 2: Then maybe think all the way back to when you were a blissfully ignorant child and actually enjoyed the day without pondering existential dilemmas. Go play with your toys or swim in a pool or whatever you did way back when.
Friend 1: Any toys I have left are in a storage bin buried somewhere, and the building’s pool is closed this year due to lack of lifeguards.
Friend 2: Argh, fine – chocolate, then. You still like chocolate, right?
Friend 1: To an unhealthy degree, yes.
Friend 2: Then go get a decadently rich chocolate dessert and celebrate your anniversary with life by treating your taste buds and neurotransmitters to bean-flavored antioxidants.
Friend 1: That sounds like an excellent idea – I have a few tasties tucked away that’ll fit the bill nicely, so I’ll go get them right now!
Friend 2: Good: go to town toasting your long-term relationship with yourself.
Friend 1: I knew I was friends with you for a reason.
