Fun fact: Google+ registrants whose birthdays are in their profiles are treated to a very special Google banner all day long. I rarely use my Google+ account for anything except tracking my YouTube history, but it was a nice, unexpected touch. At first I thought it was a salute to people that share a May 17th birthday, such as Dennis Hopper, Trent Reznor, Dave Sim, or my mother-in-law. When I realized it was keyed to li’l ol’ me, I was flattered and disturbed at the same time.

Whereas last year’s birthday was a major milestone, turning 41 has none of the gravitas, none of the age-specific over-the-hill greeting cards, none of the expectations that this birthday should and must be different from all the rest. When you turn an age divisible by ten, federal law requires one of your friends or loved ones to step forward and arrange for extra decorations and catering, and you have to spend at least two non-consecutive hours on contemplating a theoretical thesis about What It All Means. For the space of those two hours, you’re allowed to be as ponderous and insufferable as you’d like.

When you turn any age over 18 that’s a prime number, count yourself lucky if anyone you know expresses any sentiment above zip-a-dee-doo-dah apathy. Hurray for going another full year without getting dead! Too bad the number’s meaningless. Go buy yourself a cookie. Anything but oatmeal raisin. You’re 41, not 81.

For anyone else out there with tentative plans to turn 41 someday, I now speak as someone who’s been there. With all the wisdom I acquired today, I highly recommend you avoid the following activities on your once-in-a-lifetime 41st birthday:

* Brainstorming the names of celebrities you’ve outlived so far. Their fans and survivors will consider you smug and tacky, and you’re all but begging for an ironic, catastrophic end to your day.

* Crafting a convoluted web of lies to cover up your real age. Millions thought it was high hilarity when comedian Jack Benny repeatedly told people he was 39 years old for the last 41 years of his life. Try that now, and someone out there will roll their eyes and become motivated enough to expose your real birthday to the world. Admit you’re exactly as old as you are. Pretending otherwise is saddening.

* Working even more overtime than usual. Even if you’re among that rare breed working at their dream job, workaholism is the opposite of celebration, not to mention a major turnoff.

* Researching the use of the number 41 in other contexts. 41 holds no special meaning. Don’t bother ascribing any to it. If you’ve found deep, thematic connections between niobium (atomic number 41), George Bush the Elder (the 41st president), Midnight Cowboy (Best Picture at the 41st Academy Awards), and all 41 episodes of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?, trust me: don’t tell anyone. They’ll worry about you if you try.

* Watching a movie you already know you’ll regret. The logical person turning 41 today might take time to see a good movie, or even a potentially good movie, such as Star Trek Into Darkness. (Now in theaters! Check your local listings for showtimes! Someone please tell the Internet to stop with the spoilers!) Due to scheduling issues I instead forced some of my family to spend the evening with Mystery Science Theater 3000 — specifically, the fourth-season episode The Magic Sword, which turned out as non-awesome as you’d expect for a flick from the director of The Amazing Colossal Man, starring Basil Rathbone in a wig and Gary Lockwood in a constant panic attack. Birthdays should not include painful things.

Careful assembly of the clues presented here will point to one inescapable conclusion: I really, truly, tragically never learned how to party. Despite my peculiar hangups, I consider the evening a rousing success anyway. Allow me to close out with a relevant track for the occasion, and let the countdown to 42 begin.