Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

A*'s Birthday Celebration

Well, this past weekend was my A*'s 25th birthday. We partied pretty hard! Let me tell you about it...
On Friday we decided to take the day off of work because after all, who can work when it is almost their birthday, or almost their boyfriend's birthday? I took him to the Hard Rock Cafe in our city, because he has never been to one and I thought that everyone should at least experience sky high prices and ear splitting music at least once in their lifetime. We got a dish called "Twisted Mac And Cheese" and it was $11. WTF?? I can make Kraft mac and cheese for 99 cents. But, whatever. I think that he enjoyed it.
Saturday we went out with some friends. We started off at home, with A*'s sister, and drank a couple of Smirnoff's. We call this "pregaming" and the idea behind it is so that you don't spend as much money at the bar. This method doesn't usually work for us, though. So then we went to a little neighborhood bar, and commenced doing shots. I think that I had a couple of vodka and cranberries and a couple shots, but one can only guess. I know that at one point A* came up to me and my friend and asked me if I realized that I had just told her every detail of the sex that we had earlier that day. I did realize, and even if I hadn't been drinking, I would have still told her about it, because she is my best friend. Guys just don't understand this, why we need to tell all. Then we decided that we would have more fun at a little livlier bar, so we went downtown. The first bar that we hit, I got a drink, pranced onto the dance floor, and promptly fell off of it. In my defense, I probably would have fallen anyway, because it wasn't a clear drop. I mean, you couldn't see where the floor was uneven. But at this point I was feeling very little pain, so I just laughed it off and pretended that I didn't just fall on my face in front of lots of people. Then we went to another bar, where I sat on a stage and drunkenly swayed back and forth. I don't even know if I was hanging out with A*, I have no idea where he was. A large man came up behind me and started grinding into my behind, without my knowledge. A*'s sister, who is very tough and who I am very glad is on my side, went over to the big man and stuck her hand in his face. "Oh no!!" she yelled at him, and steered me away. I thought it was funny, but shortly after this happened I got the feeling. You all know that feeling. I told A* that I needed some fresh air. As soon as said fresh air hit me, I vomitted all over the side of a bridge. Then I leaned in it, and vomitted again. A* led me to a new spot, and I vomitted again. Then A*, who wasn't thinking very clearly himself, left me sitting on a curb in between two SUV's while he went to find his siter, who was our ride. He did, however, hand me his pocket knife and very seriously told me that if anyone messed with me, I should "cut them." He even opened it for me. So I am sitting on the curb, vomit on my chin and shirt, swaying back and forth, with an open knife pointing skyward. A*'s sister said that when she came outside, I had both arms bracing myself against the SUV's, and it took two people to get me to stand up. We went home, and I passed out on the couch.
The next day, I woke up with, as you can imagine, a hangover from hell. I got out of bed, threw up again, and had to immediately get into the shower because the sour smell of throw up was in my hair and I could smell it every time that I moved. Then I took 3 asprin, and then I went back to bed. When I got up the second time, I felt much better, and commenced to cooking my very first real meal. I am not a cook. I have never claimed to be. Therefore, it was to be expected that I put icing on the cake immediately after I took it out of the oven. I didn't know that you had to have decorating tips to write stuff on the cake, so A* got a big white blob on his melting icing. Oops. It still tasted great, though, and that is all that matters. A*'s family came over and all were very impressed with my domesticity. I was too. A* fell asleep on the couch at 7 that night, and that was the end of the birthday celebration.
Thank God it only comes once a year.


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