So I’m the type of chick that celebrates her birthday for weeks. One, I’m down with any reason to celebrate. Two, I’m not shy one who says “Omg, I haaaaate birthdays. I don’t want to make a deal about it and want something quiet” Ha. Nope, the complete opposite. Attention? Shots? Hugs? Glitter? Getting out of control? Sign. Me. Up.
Some really epic stories have come out of my birthdays from this decade, as well as a few shitty ones. But as they say, you do anything long enough and it becomes a habit. Well, since I’m who likes to strive for bigger and better the next time around…I may die once February rolls around.
21st Birthday: I had just started drinking and had really never ordered a shot before. There was nothing special about this birthday. My then fiance didn’t plan anything. Actually, he decided to work overtime and then show up at the tail end in which I proceeded to be the sober driver for him. Awesome. The only thing I remember about that night is being pissed off that it was my 21st birthday and it wasn’t a big deal to anyone and buying myself a shot of PB&J because the bartender at Blueberry Hill said it was “aaaaaaammmmmazing”. Well she’s a dirty whore, it tasted like asshole with a grape Robitussin aftertaste and I HATE grape jelly. And Robitussin.
Oh, I also remember ending up at some random persons apartment on Delmar and she was tripping on acid. Boy that’s a fun thing for a sober, very pissed off birthday girl to see. I wanted to punch everyone in the face.
What I learned : Don’t be friends with people if they don’t recognize your need for celebrating your birthday. And NEVER take a PB&J shot.
22nd: This birthday was officially dubbed “The make-up for my 21st birthday”. I wasn’t going to wait around for anyone to get the idea to plan something so I took the reigns. Enter party bus, many bottles of vodka and coming home with about 52 McChickens. We may have stolen a parking cone (somethings never change), I may have seen the rack of every one of my girlfriends that night but I did NOT throw up! My best friend also decided it would be hilarious to throw a pair of my lace underwear in the ice maker and bust the motor. Why? Who fucking knows.
What I learned: I’m not the private room in a club, bottle service type of girl. Me and my friends get too crazy and then bottles get broken and you have to pay for it. No bueno…I’m more of a lower key party hole gal. This was the year that I also learned how awesome vodka is and that I can drink it all night long and then go balls to the wall at Mardi Gras the very next day. I love you, vodka.
23rd Birthday: This was the epic weekend of all birthdays. It started off with Birthday lunch with the girls at a Mexican restaurant on a friday afternoon. Followed by a black light party at the house that night. Holy shit, the shenanigans that took place. I woke up with highlighter all over my face and bruises. Then they made me a penis cake. This was also the year that B and V took it upon themselves to go all out and surprise me. They rented a party van, took me to my favorite dueling piano bar, an awesomely inappropriate art show based solely around SEX and then to the east side for a night-cap.
BAD THINGS: The bathroom in the condo flooded literally hours before we were supposed to leave. That had my then husband all up in arms and me standing sideline shrugging my shoulders as the repairmen were working diligently and saying, “Ummmm…situation resolved. Quit freaking out and let’s go.” Yeah, that didn’t go over so well. I got an evil look and the person who was supposed to be the DD for all of me and my crazy friends. Another shoulder shrug. I just see zero reason to freak out over shit you have no control over. Not worth it to me…Plus, um, I’m a birthday brat. NOTHING gets in the way of me celebrating it.
GOOD THINGS: The whole night. Seriously. Someone (not naming names….J) ruined each destination surprise for me throughout the night but it was still epic. I have to hand it to V and B. I had never had a surprise party and they absolutely killed it. I did some of my favorite things and had a blast. Then I got a pulled pork sandwich at 2 in the morning from the BBQ guy outside the strip club and I was one happy girl.
What I learned: People that are grossly overweight should not be the human examples in a latex sexual art exhibition. Gross. But it made my night to watch V be so enthralled and excited about being able to peel the latex off. Also, if someone in the group is pissy or not going balls to the wall with the rest of us, I tend to do things to push their buttons. Haaaaaa…Some things never change. 🙂
24th Birthday: I’m laughing out loud in Startbucks right now. Ohhhhhhhhh my 25th birthday. To sum it up, several bomb pop shots, karaoke and me throwing up in 2 “purses”. GIGGLE. GIGGLE. GIGGLE. I was on a whole different level this year. Maybe it was all the damn sugar or that my friends from Louisville came in to visit me on their way to get married in Colorado. Whatever it was, it was AWESOME!
What I learned: Bomb pop shots don’t smell that bad regurgitated. Also, if you wear matching dresses with anyone in your group, they will think you were in a wedding.
25th Birthday: My friend Tara and I had combined our Aquarius birthday and had a themed “Fake Wedding Reception” birthday bash. We rented a DJ, a small hall/party room, disco ball, champagne fountain (Thanks, V) and partied hard with an 18 inch purple, double-sided dildo. Oh, it’s not what you think. Two of the boys that came thought it would be nice to get us a gift that we both could enjoy. Ha. Everyone had a blast and we ended the night doing a drunken photo shoot in front of the tow truck named “Camel towing” which sparked them asking us if we could come in the next day and do a calendar shoot. Sigh, what a night. 🙂
What I learned: Champagne fountains are awesome.
26th Birthday: My best friend opened her home to all of me and my hooligan friends. Dance party ensued, she lit off fire lanterns and sparklers for me in the backyard and had a boob cake made for me. Amazing start to a shit show evening. I had been on a patron kick for the past several months. The karaoke bar that I wanted to go to didn’t have patron, so I successfully persuaded the owner to let me bring in my own bottle.
We arrived at 10 p.m. I was already about 8 shots of patron in. For some reason the ONLY gifts I got were bottles of patron. (Oh and a box of sour patch kids and travel scrabble) I literally had 6 bottles of fucking tequila to drink. Damned, determined and delusional me thought that was possible. So about 45 minutes and 2 solo songs into my party I am feeling fantastic. I’m also carrying around a huge plastic cup of straight patron with a straw in it and telling everyone it’s the community cup. I kept getting weird looks so I took the straw out and put it in the actual bottle to make it look more legit.
This is also the point where my memory goes blank and I have small flashbacks, accounts from everyone else and pictures to show for the night that I topped myself…
Someone has a video of me at roughly 10:55 p.m. going up and singing “Santeria”. I make it 1/4 of the way through the song. You can’t understand a damn thing that is coming out of my mouth. Nooooooope. Oh, I’m making TONS of noise and pretty much trying to deep throat the mic. But nothing coherent is coming through the speakers. I guess I got bored and saw something shiny or I decided I needed another drink. Without hesitation or missing a beat, I throw the microphone down on the hardwood floor and stumble off.
G tells me that at this point she wants to see me go down for the count, so she buys her favorite poison…GOLDSCHLAGGER. We take a round. Then she takes what everyone else didn’t take. I remember J buying me a shot of GOLDSCHLAGGER and then waking up in the bathroom of the bar. It had only been about 7 minutes. I was on the tile floor, thongs at my ankles spouting some nonsense. I was a happy motherfucker. I just couldn’t understand why I couldn’t walk and why everything around me was so wet. Someone pointed out that I didn’t feel like being a normal drunk adult and actually sitting down on the toilet….Nope. I just sat on the floor. So at this point the executive decision was made to get me home. I didn’t want to go. I pleaded, “Just one more soooooooooong”. Negative. Thrown over the bouncers shoulder I went, thongs still around my ankles and then tossed into the backseat of a car.
I woke up with the worst hangover I’ve ever had and a very pissed off significant other telling me that I destroyed the bathroom and forever ruined the word “bath” for him. Taking golden shower to a whole new meaning? Hardly. It’s so bad that I can’t even admit what transpired in that tub.
What I learned: Patron turns me into a God until I try to consume multiple bottles. I only ever want celebrate my birthday by drinking patron and singing karaoke. And I should never wear a dress on my birthday. EVER.
27th Birthday: Considering that I had found out my boyfriend had been cheating on me literally a few days prior and had to pretend nothing was the matter, this birthday sucked. Enter boyfriend getting so drunk that he pulled my shirt down twice in front of everyone at the bar, him hitting on all the other chicks wherever we went and me being the sober driver for his dumb ass that night. Siiiiiigh.
What I learned: I’m so making up for that bullshit come #28. Trust.