Birthday Blowoff

Bleah. Thursday was my 37th birthday.
I got a call from one of my (3) sisters, a call from my mom, and a visit from my stepdaughter, boyfriend, and grandbaby (which was really the nicest, and most unexpected gift of all). I also had the pleasure of dealing with unnecessary drama from my co-worker (see previous post), and spent the day in a sleepy, depressed haze.
Husband made great promises of (finally!) throwing me a birthday party after 12 years together, but he slacked and bungled it royally-- and long story short, there was no party. Every guest that was called was ultimately contacted by me, some only a couple days before the event-- most couldn't come, nothing was planned-- (except that he chose to work the morning of the so called party, so I had to *plan* to do all the cleaning, shopping, and preparation. Happy fucking birthday, indeed). I called the whole embarassing event off the day before, since it would only have made me even more bummed out, cleaning and cooking my butt off all Saturday only to culminate in a lame, poorly planned party with one or two people there. Wah.
On an even sadder note, Hubby made a bold dash to the WalMart at 10pm the night before my birthday (at my daughter's insistence. Otherwise there would have been nothing), and bought the exact one thing I asked for (unwrapped), and my daughter had to steer him away yet again from the ugly, smelly mums I have repeatedly told him you only buy for old people you really don't want to ever have sex with. WTF? One time, my guy made the colossal error of sharing the (probably universal, stupid man secret) that he can't *ahem* get excited about me without visual aids of much bustier and cuter (airbrushed, computer edited) ladies. After telling him what a grave error he committed against the delicate feminine psyche, I instructed him (yes, instructed--he's pretty clueless. He needs to be directed, step by step, preferrably with list in hand. Pictures help, too, but not always, poor bastard) that flowers might help the forgiveness process (duh!). We still weren't speaking when the man eventually presented me with a $2.99 grocery store bunch of hideous brownish mums. BROWN MUMS?!?!? He's lucky to have ever gotten laid since. Truly.
Anyway: the coffee maker was from the kids, and his gift to me was a card (a stupid one, too), which said :"good for one shopping spree". Huh? WTF is that? I once rented a park, called about 30 of his friends, and had catered food and games, music, etc for one of his birthday parties. And he *still* received a proper gift, no doubt. But those days are looooong gone.
I think what threw the poor man was that I didn't want him to invite any of HIS friends and their wives, longtime work friends we really haven't seen or hung out with in years, so he was really put out.
Ohwell, I'm older now-- that part was successful.
But enough of my self indulgent whining; time to get to the library before they close. I've got the explorer version of Rosetta Stone waiting for me, and I'm really looking forward to trying it.