My birthday is on Sunday, which I've mentioned, and in preparation for the 24th anniversary of that 17 hour labor I'm going to present you with a slideshow (except I don't know how to do that, haHA!) of photos from my birthdays throughout the years. Enjoy.
3rd Birthday (R+C always there)
6th Birthday? (Flanked By R+C)
9th Birthday (Stonewashed much?)
Early-22nd Birthday (college edition)
22nd Birthday (NYC edition)
And finally, 23rd birthday. Oh, that's not me. That's a visual depiction of what I felt like the next morning, with me played by Really Bear. Whom you have all heard tales of, and now you get to see him. He was hurting that morning. But at least he had his Blackberry.
On my 21st birthday I kicked over a homeless man's change can and ran away laughing. He almost beat up my friends. On my 22nd birthday I called my dad at 4 am while sitting on the curb somewhere in the city (still no idea where) saying "I don't know where I am", and when he almost called the police, my friend found me and was then able to get on the phone and assure him, "Richard, I am with Adria, she is fine, we're taking her back to the apartment now." And then she tried to get us a cab but no one would let me into their vehicle. Last year was pretty tame though, unless you count the thunderstorm that ruined my whole "east river park picnic" motif, and my dress (although, not really because I'm actually wearing that dress today). Here's knowing (not hoping) that this year will be tamer, healthier and less drama-ridden. (Because this year, for the first time in far too long, I finally can't spend the second half of my birthday crying about the guy I like not showing up...actually, scratch that, I could, but he'd be introducing his bruised face to his family next week instead of me if he pulled a stunt like that. Especially since I spent his birthday making him dinner and then trudging around in the snow to a bar.) Here's to growing up! Gross-but kind of necessary, considering those stories, yes?
This weekend is jam-packed so I'm going to tell you about it. After I get out of this office (which seems pretty gosh dern empty already) I'm headed to the bar on a boat (Frying Pan) for some outdoor drinking, then tomorrow I've got to treat myself to my yearly manicure-pedicure (okay so I get more than one a year...but not that many more...usually like, 3, a year. Gross, I know. I need to budget this into my life before my toes fall off and I get angry), and then I'm forcing labor upon others to mount our flat screen into the brick in the living room so we can stop using a night table as a tv stand. Then Saturday night I've got my last performance of the show I'm in, followed directly by the wrap party for the movie that I was in, at The Bowery Hotel. Then, on Sunday I'm having birthday brunch with my mom (because my dad has once again opted out in favor of my brother's baseball games...Dear Freud...) hopefully at a venue that overlooks the gay pride parade, but more likely, here because it's closer to my apartment and way closer to my parents' place in NJ. AND THEN, I get to go home and start cooking for my dinner party. I'm making this and this and some variation of this, so my oven better work. Just kidding. No, seriously though I've yet to use my oven. I'm totally fucked if its broken. I'm also totally fucked if any of you are stalkers because you know where to find me this weekend. Except that the frying pan will be full of roughly 700 people who look just like me, the wrap party is going to be seriously bounced (like, security, ya hear?), and there's a good chance I'll end up getting brunch somewhere else. So basically, you can just have food envy.
I'm curious what your favorite birthday stories are...share in the comments!