My birthday was awesome. I got to sleep until 1 p.m. with nobody harassing me to wake up and do something productive with my life. Amazing dreams based on Harry Potter flitted through my head, interrupted constantly by text messages of people telling me how spectacular of a person I was for surviving until the 22nd anniversary of the day I was born. I was oustandingly popular for this one day and everyone I'd ever met or added on Facebook expressed hope that I have the best day of my life. I could tell they meant it by their copious use of exclamation points and smiley faces.
My best friend Kacy loves me and wants me to be a fatass alcoholic so she told me she'd be taking me out for dessert and drinks that night. She would not take no for an answer (thank God). Her boyfriend was given strict orders not to call or text her while we were having our drunken girl-time, so he texted me instead to tell me how beautiful she was. Clearly his birthday gift to me was to remind me how alone and un-beautiful I was, and to make me throw up at their stupid love, which I greatly appreciated because it made me skinnier.
We went to Chili's where I ate everything I could think of as long as it was deep-fried in batter. In my defense, I'd worked up a massive appetite while waiting thirty minutes for our table and sitting awkwardly across from some attractive teenagers whom I resented for wearing denim shorts and having boyfriends.
I got a free brownie with ice cream and some shame as everyone at Chili's watched me be 22 and get sang to about it. Kacy's presents to me were a shake weight, vitamins to keep me young forever, lots of flattery, and a Rue 21 coupon so I could buy sexy new clothes that I'll never get an opportunity to wear since the only place I ever go is work. She even told me my butt wasn't flat anymore when I was trying on skinny jeans, so I immediately bought them without even looking at the price tag. Her other presents to me seemed to be backwards compliments and making me bankrupt.
I wasn't quite fat enough to suit Kacy's idea of how my birthday should be, so we went to Applebee's for strawberry daiquiris and bad entertainment in the form of karaoke. I showed the waitress my ID without being asked because I'm afraid of looking old, then later asked her if she thought I looked 21 or not. She had just turned 21 so I cursed her silently for being so young. 22 had hit my ego pretty hard by then.
My manager had given me the entire weekend off because he seemed to think I'd need both Saturday and Sunday to recover from my wild birthday. Thankfully one strawberry daiquiri didn't have that sort of effect (or any sort of effect, really) so after leaving Applebee's we tried to come up with something else we could do for my birthday that wouldn't end in regret and vomit.
There's an arcade a few minutes away from there that has Dance Dance Revolution, which is basically the most fun thing of all time and I felt like embarrassing myself. Not enough to sing karaoke, but just a tiny bit enough to play DDR in a public place while wearing heels. We danced to several songs and discovered we were good at "Toxic" so we did that one about 17 times and got pretty good at it, even on difficult. We were pretty much the coolest people at the entire arcade, which is typically a fairly easy thing to accomplish.
Once we got red-faced and sweaty, we realized there was a photo booth that would sketch your portrait for $2, which is a terrible deal but it was cute and it was my birthday so we did it anyway.
My dad is the world's worst gift-giver, so he came by my house when I wasn't there and left me two books, one I've never heard of and one I didn't care about, and a CD I've never heard of. One year he gave my mom a bathroom scale for Christmas, so nobody in our family holds very high hopes for his presents. He's kind of like Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia from the Harry Potter books, who send Harry things like a tissue or a used pair of socks for Christmas.
My mom made Boston Creme Pie and got DDR for the PS3 as a joint gift for me and Thomas, so that we can lose the weight we gain from eating Boston Creme Pie. I intend to play it every day and lose 60 pounds while continuing to eat bacon cheeseburgers twice a day.
Also Kacy is taking me to Carowinds next weekend and it will be way more amazing than last time we went because our stupid lame fun-sucking now-ex-boyfriends won't be there this time to make my special day all about how whiny and loser-ish they are instead of how fantastic I am.
Oh and the entire remainder of August is devoted to making me feel as happy and pretty as possible, so you can all get started on that as soon as you finish reading this.
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