DEAR MISS MANNERS: Through no one’s fault, I was born on the worst date ever. Each birth anniversary, there’s a well-meaning but hurtful practical joke. Everyone — family, friends, teachers, co-workers, boyfriends — thinks they’re the first person to play their joke and expects me to laugh. Because I love them, I try to play along, but it gets tougher each year. I open beautifully wrapped presents, but there’s nothing in the box (APRIL FOOL!), or birthday cards are full of glitter or other messes (APRIL FOOL!). I get visits from “police” with arrest warrants (APRIL FOOL!), “CPS caseworkers” …