Wow…my story pretty much pales in comparison to most of yours. I spent my 10th and 15th birthdays home sick with pneumonia, but no hospital or anything.
I spent my birthday last year with my husband, only he was hospitalized after a nephrostomy (sp?), so it was just us in the room plus a bag of bloody pee.
When he got out, he gave me a radio-controlled clock. Woo.
This one’s not as much of a tragedy (my condolences to the rest of you.)
My ex-wife had a big Sweet 16 party planned at the local state park. Quite a few people were expected to attend, and she was really looking forward to it.
The night before the party, 11 inches of rain fell in the area. It caused the third Johnstown flood, broke dams, washed out bridges and communities, and put the state park picnic area about 10 feet underwater.
She was devastated.
Wow. Mine’s VERY lame compared to some of yours, but here goes:
Mr. S was working a 12-hour night shift at the time, and we had plans to drive to MN to attend a weekend bluegrass festival and sell my handmade jewelry. He slept all day on my birthday, because he had to work that night.
I got up and drove one of our dogs 60 miles to my mom’s house for puppysitting. Had to stop three times along the way to clean up dog barf in the van. Got to my mom’s and didn’t even get a “Happy birthday” (pure oversight on her part, I’m sure; she’s not usually like that). Drove 60 miles home, finished cleaning barf residue, loaded jewelry-booth and camping gear in the van. (Mr. S usually does this himself, or we both do it, but he had to sleep. It’s a big job for one person.) Drove Mr. S to work (90 miles round trip). I slept alone that night, not well as usual when I’m home alone, then got up before dawn, loaded the other dog (3-month-old puppy) in the van, drove south an hour to pick up Mr. S at work, then drove north 8 hours to the festival while he slept, and tried to keep the pup from going completely nuts. We were both crabby by the time we got there, and bitched at each other the whole time we were setting up our tent and booth. My belated birthday celebration consisted of a mini-bottle of champagne in the tent at bedtime, which I had thought to toss in the cooler but which Mr. S was too tired to share. Yay.
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We had a nice elderly couple next door when I was growing up; I called them Grandma and Grandpa my whole life. Grandpa died on my 26th birthday. But that was actually a relief – it was a long time coming.
I don’t know that it qualifies so much as a bad birthday… My 26th birthday fell shortly after my divorce was finalized; I was moving into a new place, and finally had to turn custody of my kids over, starting a new job - my life was completely up in the air.
I got a phone call from the ex the evening of my birthday saying the kids wanted to talk to me - to wish me a Happy Birthday.
Which I had completely forgotten about. Luckily, my kids had not, because the ex never would have remembered!
Well it’s my birthday today, and I came back to uni at the weekend. But during the holidays I wanted to do something with my friends back home. So I told everyone that we were going on a night out. Only 3 of them said they would go. 
The rest ALL said “I don’t know, I may turn up. I’m at bit broke at the moment…”
I ended up cancelling it.
Well HA to them. Because now I’m back at uni with DECENT friends and we’re going out tonight.
Wow. I’m sorry velvetjones and picunurse.
My worst birthday was my last. I was rear-ended by a cab 3 days before. My car was totalled. We had had plans to go to a Dave Matthews concert for my birthday the Saturday before. Couldn’t do that as I could barely move and we had no car. My birthday was spent lying on the couch praying that the pain would go away. (This was before I went to my regular doctor and begged for something stronger than ibuprofin.) I didn’t get a happy birthday really until 11:30 that night when my boyfriend showed back up with some cake and a card. We had spent most of the day arguing with an insurance company about the rental car and all sorts of fun things.
Sounds a bit trivial now but it just sucked.
You see, isn’t it better getting it out in the open. I’m glad that most of you bounce back with a positive twist in the story. It’s good to know that some good can come out of a bad situation. But still my condolences to velvetjones, mlerose, Ashes, Ashes, LifeOnWry, picunurse and anyone I missed that has had to deal with death during what should have been a happy day. I wish you the best birthdays for the rest of your life. With really good cake. Chocolate cake. With sprinkles. 
Let’s see. On my 35th birthday my Grandma died. Dad always said that he was going to go on my birthday just to piss me off - he only missed by two days last year…
I guess those were the worst. My 40th my girlfriend dumped me because she … well, she is insane, so maybe that was for the better… 
Last year wasn’t fun in an odd, whiny way. Our family other than me is all male and they went away for a camping trip the week of my birthday. Being a Boy Scout thing, it wasn’t the sort of thing were even an adventurous mom used to all boy outings could go along.
Worst birthday ever was the one a few weeks after my son died. His birthday is the day after mine. I pretty much dread the approach of mine since his follows the next day. I feel vaguely ill most the week, but try not to mention it so as not to sadden the others.
My mom’s birthday is Sept. 11. She’s said she doesn’t want to have them anymore.
I seem to be sensing a pattern that 26th birthdays generally suck. Most of the posts seemed to refer to 26th birthdays. Coincidentally mine does too.
I just had my 26th birthday and I had the most hectic day at work I had had in a long time. About 1 o’clock I got a pounding headache and was so glad to finally go home at 4:30. I was hoping to maybe go out for dinner at least that night, but by the time I got home all I wanted to do was lay down. When I did I became increasingly nauseous. When I stood up to go to the bathroom and puke, my head pounded even more. Finally I gave up and just went and laid down in bed. After having a pounding headache since 1pm and feeling nauseous, but not being able to puke, for about three hours, I finally fell asleep at about 8:45 pm. Yay, what a great birthday. Also my mom, brother, and my best friend all decided to go out of town on my birthday, how convenient.
The next night one of my friends wanted to go out to have dinner for my birthday, since she was also leaving to go out of town the next morning. I had a taste for a good steak so we go to a place she’s been to and likes and that my sister and brother-in-law always rave about. I get the filet and salmon and it’s the worst I’ve ever had. I like my meat well done so I asked them to butterfly it so it wouldn’t be charred, no luck, my salmon was fishy tasting, I hardly ate anything and was still hungry when we left. My friend ordered fettucini alfredo which ended up being linguini noodles in butter, wtf! We split the bill, yes I paid $20 for a nasty dinner, nice birthday present. So we leave and on the way home my friend tells me to stop at Dairy Queen because she wants to get me a cake, she knows my favorite cake is DQ. So I get happy about that, at least I’ll be able to go home and have some awesome cake. So we go to the DQ she usually goes to, it’s not there anymore, completely shut down! Then we proceed to the one I usually go to. The lights are on and there’s a bunch of people inside, yay! We get to the door and they’re closed, it’s just the workers hanging out with their friends. So we give up and just go home. No fun. That was my 26th birthday. Not as bad as some stories on here thankfully. I wish this thread was here on my birthday, it would have made my day not seem so bad. My condolences to those that have had worse birthdays than mine.
John, my old coworker, told me about the birthday party from hell.
His mother planned it along with her hairdresser, a rather flambouyant gay man. They made it a Flintstones theme party. They had all the guests dress in caveman outfits, carrying around big plastic clubs. The punchbowls were giant pieces of styrofoam spraypainted to look like rocks. They had streamers all over the place with the Flintstones characters pinned on them.
When John got home, everybody yelled SURPRISE and took his picture. He said he had the most horrified expression on his face ever.
I have to say that I think that the various tragic events which happenned on birthdays really don’t count. There’s nothing crueller than having nobody remember. It’s happenned to me more than once. Sh*t happens, but to be completely spurned is something else altogether.
12th: A pool party (at an indoor town pool) in NY in Early October. It turned into a macho fest to see who could swim the longest in the outdoor pool. Even @ 12, I still vividly recall choking on my testicles in the 60° water.
18th: After 18 tequilas and 18 Budweisers, I don’t remember much – other than pucking my balls up (that were still lodged in my throat from the age of 12) that following morning.
24th: My first MFM. I was the 3rd wheel - and best man at their wedding. Luckily everything had dropped back down to where it belonged a few months after the 18th birthday celebration.
30th: Waking up that morning, looking in the mirror and noticing hair had miraculously started sprouting in places I didn’t want it. I know I definitely didn’t have sack or ear hair before going to bed that previous night. Mother Nature can be so cruel.
Yup, that was my (supposed) best friend’s 18th. He had drunk a lot while we were getting his place ready. Met a few mates and drunk some more, drove to meet a skater mate (not him driving BTW) got some drinks on the way back. Passed out after downing a bottle of tequila. Could have been that or the fact that after his finished his bandmates gave him such a powerful wedgie his boxers ripped in half. Anyways it became a tag-team operation between me, his older brother and his g/f to sit with him (nekkid, BTW) on the bathroom floor to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit. He thinks it was an excellent birthday party. Go figure!
You’ve only just got pubes? Or am I mistaken here? If you want unsightly hair come see me, I’m talking hobbit-feet. 
At 30 you’re lucky, believe me.
I was really looking forward to my 21st birthday. I had moved to a new town, lost what little money I had brought with me, couldn’t find a job, was living out of my car, had just about recovered from a month long bout with bronchitis, and just really wanted to do the Tennessee Crawl and forget about it.
My boyfriend at the time took me out to a so-so dinner and then claimed he just wanted to go home because he had a headache.
We spent the rest of the evening at a smoke-filled coffee house so he could hang out with his friends.
Bet that really helped his headache. Jerk.
Next year, make sure to tell your Mom you are on vacation that week.
And no, she’s not allowed to stay while you are gone.
Bullitt isn’t.
signed,
former resident of Hardin county.
Ditto that. On my 19th I had just gotten back from the hospital after trying to kill myself three days prior (lovely 72 hour minimum rule). My co-ed frat had a pancake breakfast that day, so I was really skittish, after being ‘safe’ in the hospital where nothing bad happens. Hurts.
My 21rst.
Not only was I not out getting my first “legal” drink (I don’t drink anyways, so it wouldn’t have made a difference!), I didn’t even get to celebrate.
I spent it lying on the sofa watching tv with an icepack held to my face. I had an abcessed tooth. My left cheek was swollen up to twice it’s size-I looked like a lop-sided chipmonk and said tooth was throbbing so bad it felt as if it had its own heartbeat.