Birthdays are shit
It was my birthday the other day. I think I’m like 47 or something, I don’t actually know, but I do know that whatever my age is has gone up by a year since last we spoke. In my own opinion that makes me about 72, but it’s probably actually only around 12 mentally and 14 in real life. But who really cares? Me.
Birthdays suck, I mean not only are you faced with the prospect of being old and shit, but you also have to arrange for people to gather together in one place and pay full attention to you. The attention part is obviously cool but the rest is not. Like, why the fck must I invite you out to stare at me and say how great I am? Just do it anyway. Why would you need my blessing? FS.
This year I hated more people than I hated last year so the numbers were kept down. It was all super low key and I just gathered together six people I actually like and don’t ever feel like hitting or screaming at.
Friday I’m in love, with cake
This wasn’t my actual birthday but I went to grace work with my sparkling personality, and do you know what they did? They produced a cake.
It was not a gluten free kale cake. There was chocolate on this cake. There were also sweets and stuff all protruding from this cake. Gross. It only confirmed what I already suspected: these people hate me.
Anyone that even remotely knows me, knows that I get anxiety around sugar. If you liked someone you wouldn’t put them through that. The year before, I received flowers. This was much more chic and much more me. But I guess this year everyone hates me so they wanted to exhibit that hatred with a display of sugar and carbs. Also my friend Manny got me a present, which wasn’t a Kylie lip kit so I hated it. I didn’t even pretend I liked it.
So later, traumatised, my friend Ant collected me and sat me down in a bar with champagne. Lots of it. He sat and told me how great I was while I drank. He didn’t provide a gift or a card which was weird, but whatever. Then Mike and Alex turned up, again empty handed. Later that night they spent £700 on me which was super generous but I’d really have preferred the money for these shoes I want.
We drank heavily and had this really nice spot with a view of the canal. We were saving the seats for the other four people I liked to arrive. But they were running late, or was it that we just went out early? Probably the latter but I’ll pretend it’s not because I’d rather they looked bad so I can treat them with disdain.
Old people ruiners
These old people sat down on our table totally uninvited. Alex lent over and explained that we have friends joining us later so they would need to fck off then.
Much like I would have, they ignored this and cracked on with talking about old people stuff. They were gross and it wasn’t ideal. You know I like to surround myself with attractive people, so this wasn’t great. But as it turned out I was pissed and didn’t actually care that much.
Then Kat and Pandora arrived, both with gifts which was chic. And then the two new arrivals and Ant just sat around taking pictures of themselves. Which was weird.
I asked Pandora why she was more into herself than she was into me, and we yelled at each other for a time. I then Snapchatted her tits (a pretty normal course of events with me and Pandora).
While my “friends” were ignoring me and taking pictures of themselves, I received some messages from Ramsey Street (the guy from the Wireless Trilogy).
He messaged me being all gutted and stuff that I was ignoring him, so I was too busy laughing about that with Mike and Alex to care about how much my friends cared about their own faces and not mine.
It’s getting hot in herre
Then my housemate Nellie arrived and so did my friends Nyssa, Jacey, Luci, Al and Alex. Al had recently had some good news which I was happy about, and because I’m not a monster and Friday wasn’t my actual birthday, I allowed him a moment of applause. The kid deserved it.
I found I’d been bought some bottles of sparkly stuff and we were bored of the waiter service, plus there was no need to keep getting him over as he wasn’t hot and was also well short, so we just opened up my gifts and drunk them and kept them cool in the supplied champagne ice buckets from earlier purchases.
It feels like something poor people do, but as I was the poorest person there and everyone else seemed cool with it I just went along with it. Plus we know the rule on birthdays is that you simply can’t spend any of your own bags, so as long as my drink was constantly filled I was not too bothered where it was coming from. Also, who wants to carry around loads of booze all night? Ohw8 me. Me. I do, that’s actually cool!
I was Snapping away happy as Larry. Why do we say happy as Larry I wonder? Who is Larry? Is Larry hot? Do we know? Can I get visuals on Larry?
Let’s just say I was very happy. The old people eventually left, we’d tried to get rid of them quicker by talking about uncomfortable subjects but they were probably too old to even hear what we were saying so it didn’t work.
When the bar was closing I still hadn’t cried, which Mike pointed out was weird. I’d even brought up the conversation that it was nearly Ursula’s one-year deadiversary to encourage my own tears so that I’d get loads of attention. But no, alas I was obviously too happy to cry.
After the pub me and the girls went out to dance sans the boys. We went to a sweet shop by day which became a club by night. How kooky. I really don’t remember anything about this part, my Snap stories tell me I was a complete asshole, but that wasn’t really giving anything away was it?
It doesn’t look like I touched any sweets or even noticed them, which sounds about right. I was only reminded it was a sweet shop the next day. I think I napped in the corner at one point, although my friend Kat assures me I was dancing.
I know from an Uber receipt that we got an Uber to wherever Jacey’s car was parked and we were driven back to mine where everyone stayed the night. I also know from my call threads that I didn’t message anyone any abuse or tit pics. Overall, I would count this night as a successful one.