Tales of Birthdays Past
In the upcoming fortnight, my dear editors will both be rocking in their 25th years. To celebrate this and the fact that birthdays aren't always what they're cracked up to be, Croft and Oline (who will be formally introduced during this same fortnight) are sharing their most traumatic, humiliating, humbling recollections of birthdays past. They invite you to do the same. Come on, it'll be cathartic!Croft: The worst birthday party I ever went to was a sleepover party at a hotel in eighth grade. Most of the girls (including the birthday girl) went off in a car with some older guys in the middle of the night and left two of us (the sensible, "cowardly" ones) back in the hotel room with orders to provide a cover story to the b-day girl's parents (who were in the adjoining hotel room), should the need arise.
Oline: In the 5th grade, I had a sleep-over with a group of friends, none of whom liked each other (why this didn't seem ill-advised at the time, I have no idea). During the "party," there was some drama between opposing factions, which I tried to mediate. In the end, the factions joined forces and slept together in the living room, exiling me to the music room with the cats. In the course of the night, in a final humiliation, someone closed the french doors in between.
posted by oline at 9:58:00 PM
4 Comments:
I call this "Ma, your chillun's got worms." Warning don't read this immediately after or prior to your lunch.
I was 8 years old or thereabouts. I had a late lunch of my favorite dish at the time, Kraft's macaroni & cheese. Two heeping bowl-fulls. Shortly thereafter my friends and relatives began to show up. Like the Drunk at your office X-mas party I said "Bring on the Hawaiian Punch and keep it coming!" Four tall glasses later I was zooming around the house doing cart-wheels and handstands and all sorts of assorted tomfoolery. Until I made myself sick and vomited a copious amount of viscous dark red liquid all over the dining room just before the cake was to be brought out. Not only did my mother fear I was hemorrhaging from within but there also appeared to be partially digested worms in the 'blood'. Needless to say I did not get any cake that evening and no Mac & Cheese for several months.
My birthday is New Year’s Eve. On my 22nd B-day I was celebrating at my boyfriend’s bar. Midnight was approaching and I was psyched, this was going to be our first New Year’s Kiss, as the previous year I had been abroad.
At approximately 11:59 p.m. as he and I were stumbling toward each other, his no-good drunkard friend shouted really, really loud “Hey Matt! Remember last New Year’s, when you kissed Amy (floozy bartender)? Oh man, you guys were really going at it! Didn’t you go home together that night? Oh man!”
There was no New Year’s kiss that year. There was, however, a New Year’s slap followed by some New Year’s Burger King with my girlfriends. So it wasn’t all bad.
Yes it was.
incidentally- yes, that picture is of me, taken the year my mum left my cookie monster birthday cake sitting on the kitchen counter while we went on a birthday boat ride down the misssissippi. because the memphis may is that hot, the cake had melted by the time we returned, thus, the look of drunken lipstick application.
I am the queen of humiliating birthdays, such that my sharing said experiences requires a list:
1. The requisite arrive way over-dressed (and it is me, y'all, so you know me rocking a dress to someone's birthday party involved either tears or violence) to a friend's bday party when everyone else is rocking jeans and playing in the mud. Previous to this, my mother and father yelling at me about how everyone will be dressed up and how I'm a dirtbag, etc. etc. Sadly, since I was somewhere around 8 or so, I didn't possess the proper cynicism to flash them a "you couldn't have been more wrong in your life, parental units!" face. What a waste.
2. Toni Patricola's birthday sleepover, where it was actually just me and her family, and we were watching A Fish Called Wanda and at the end someone says a dirty word (I believe it might have been asshole) and I laughed and said it out loud, and was stared at in horror by the entire family, subjected to "Jesus heard you say that" type rhetoric all night, and Toni Patricola dissed me for my friend Stacy and this girl Diane (pronounced, btw, Dee-Ahh-Nuh).
3. Katie Malmquist's Birthday (2004): which actually rocked, but I broke a door with my ass. Toe-Sock Doug was there for that one.
4. Babs' Birthday Party (2004): also had fun, but since I ruined my knee that night trying to jump on one William Ivan Grabbe or whatever his last name is, it also goes down in the annals of history as one of the many stupid things I did to myself while drunk.
And those are just the ones I remember.
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