"Happy Birthday, You Bastard." That's the subtle title of a Slate article about the options one has when attending someone's birthday dinner celebration. It begins as humorous commentary on the way the 20-something birthday dinner at restaurants evolved because there's no room in tiny apartments to celebrate as a group, and ends with the author declaring that he no longer attends these kinds of gatherings.
Here is one particular line that stood out to me: "Tradition holds that the birthday boy make a perfunctory swipe at the check before it's whisked from his grasp." Do you expect guests to pay for your dinner on your birthday?