Fun. Friends. Family. Food, Cake & Ice cream and gifts. Good things. Many look forward to birthdays. Not me. Not when it comes to parties held for my brother's small army of young children.

My brother and his wife live in a small, two bedroom apartment. It's meager proportions means no where to hide. Hide from the plethora of rockus screeching children. Five loud, Jumping, yelling, crying, tantrum-ing, inserting choking hazards in their mouths, unhygienic children.

There's also no escaping my brother's in-laws. A vulgar couple united by their love of ballon art- We'll call the mother the Mean Heartbreaker, her new husband- a cautionary tale for on the importance of underwear, the Underwear Poster Child. And then there's the ex-husband, we'll call him Mumble Mumble as he is usually having a mumbly conversation with or without someone.

Me and my sister - a pair of introverts cower on couch, lost in a sea of toys in the cramped living room, doing our best to weather the non stop assault to our ear drums. Our close proximity to the in-laws leaves sitting prey for assault by small talk from the Mumble Mumble, Mean Heartbreaker and Underwear Poster Child.

These conversations are a lot like being felt up by a creepy first date -all encounters leave you feeling violated and a little dirty.

As all family's involved are devoutly Mormon, there is no alcohol to sooth nerves rubbed raw by loud children and unsolicited social intercourse.

Then comes the cake. Everyone gathers to deliver a lackluster rendition of "happy birthday,"

The kids who already possess ample energy are the given sugar in the form of cake and ice cream. The transformation that takes place next is terrifying. The insuing sugar high leads to increased wild behavior followed by a tired, you-need-nap-like-five-hours-ago melt down complete with shrieks reminiscent of a pig being slaughtered.

The horror.

This process will be repeated several times as the five children's births are peppered throughout the year.

Help us.

#birthdays #hell

I used to be a good drawer.

My first marriage was good.

On discussing Romeo and Juliet: Did Shakespeare really write like that or did they write it that way for the movie.

My skin would be clear if I didn't have any zits.

It was a dark and stormy night. "Big woop," thought Archie, the centuries old immortal. Archie walked from the fridge, carrying the vanilla creamer across the tastefully decorated kitchen of his modern home nestled in the countryside of England. He poured a teaspoon of creamer in his cup of steamy soul chai, and stirred it until it stopped screaming and the creamer was well mixed. "Being undead just isn't what it used to be,"he thought wistfully to himself. He absent mindedly wiped a little soul residue on his soft flannel pajama bottoms and trudged into the living room, chai in hand. He sat down on his soft leather arm chair and picked up the remote. His favorite show would be on soon.