Unlike most people who only have their birthdays to celebrate every year, I am fortunate enough to have two days in my honor:

March 21st - the day my mother pushed me out of her womb
October 15th - National Grouch Day

Whereas I am always shunned, yelled at and abused for being a “royal bitch,” today I, and others like me, am celebrated for my general moodiness. I am finally vindicated for my annoyance at my roommates leaving their sh*t all over the house, for those mother-effers who can’t figure out what a turn signal is, and for the jerks down the street who keep playing that same damn Lil Wayne song over and over and over.

I don’t have to be ashamed for yelling at the Subway dude who put mayo on my 6 inch turkey on whole wheat with “absolutely no sauces, spices or mayo,” or for pushing the bitch at the bar who cut me in line and then got the last Amstel Light.

No. Today is my day. MINE. A day for me to be who I am and for those around me to celebrate it by leaving me the eff alone. Do not hug me, sing to me, or send me a card; all I want on this day is acceptance of my grouchiness.

And maybe for you people to clean up the damn kitchen. Is that too much to ask?!