Birthdays seem to be this week’s topic of choice for the sole reason that our He Said enjoyed his 22nd last week. Sadly, I was not in attendance, and maybe because I heard this was the social event of the season, mainly from senior guys looking to drink keg beer and “scurry” with freshman girls. With that disclaimer being said, I share my thoughts about birthdays and how I will try to make an occasion that happens once a year for everyone into a quasi-non-lame article.
I would have to say I’m pretty content with my birthday being in May. I was always sad for the kids in grade school who had summer birthdays, because the last day of school there was a mass birthday celebration for those not lucky enough to have a day dedicated to them during the school year.
I also think the cake part of birthdays is great. This truly is a party element that determines a certain “who’s who” of cool parties. In third grade, my mom made everyone in my bowling party “dirt cakes” in flowerpots complete with gummy worms and fake flowers. Those dirt cakes single-handedly launched me into a two week status of best birthday party ever, a reign that was wrecked by bossy Jackie and her make-your-own-sundae cake substitute.
For the past four years I have been celebrating birthdays Fairfield style, a ritual that has included public displays of embarrassment in Barone (a sing-along with the help, which in hindsight may have been bearable had there not been pelvic thrusts involved), almost always a public safety violation and letters from the dean to remind of appropriate birthday conduct.
I thought this was the common college birthday until my best friend from high school who goes to Harvard had her 21st. Naturally, I ventured to Cambridge to celebrate with expectations of holding one of her ankles for a 21-second keg stand. Upon arrival I was informed by her friends that the birthday was a surprise black and white semiformal themed party, held at an uppity bar with black and white chocolate party favors and merlot tasting.
Slightly different from FU style, but I didn’t judge (minus the one guy that arrived with shoulder sweater and swinging a cane).
|
Leave a Reply