The actual birthday
After I got back from the sweet shop, I found myself waking up surrounded by girls. I have a bigger-than-double-bed and my friends aren’t fat, so we all managed to fit into it just fine. Today would be my birthday. Unfortunately, the first words spoken were by me, and this is against all rules known to humankind.
I should’ve woken up to a chorus of happy birthdays. What rotten bitches my apparent friends are. When they finally remembered (after I had reminded them), I got a begrudging rendition of happy birthday. They didn’t seem too into it.
Nellie made me a green tea for my main birthday present, which was a bit tight because I provided the tea bag. Once I’d consumed this present, I was ready to get up and move into a spa hotel for the weekend. LostItGirl will always move out of home for special occasions and set one’s self up at the nearest 5 Star luxury spa hotel she can find.
On my way to the spa
I somehow made my way there and in the car received a phone call from Lenny my housemate.
The conversation went a bit like this (I was extremely hungover remember):
Lenny: “Happy birthday”
LIG: “Yeah whatever…”
Lenny: “What you got planned?”
LIG: “Spa an that…”
Lenny: “Ah cool, so I’m gonna propose to Adi later today!”
LIG: “Yeah I’m seeing Adi on Tuesday, you should come…”
Lenny: “Erm, LIG did you hear what I just said?”
LIG: “Nah OK see ya”
Lenny: “I said I’m gonna propose to Adi later…”
LIG: scream crying for a long time
We went on further to discuss the whole thing and I got quite emotional and goose bumps and stuff like that. Today was one of those annoying days when I found I had human emotions.
The thing is, Lenny and Adi are like these perfect human beings, and they’re also perfect for each other. It’s really annoying because I have totally zero I can say that’s even remotely negative, apart from I wonder why such nice people would hang out with – and not only that – reside with a LostItGirl like me. Anyway more on that later.
My ass to the spa
I got my ass to the spa and laid around in comfort and chic, and yet still I was not feeling remotely better. Then my mum came along with a ton of gifts, which were all awesome. And then my mother, my friends and I opened some champagne. A wise, chic, rich man once said to me: “There is nothing you can’t cure with a cold glass of champagne…”
He’s so right, and that’s why I’m related to said philosopher.
Things began to look up for me as the champagne cured me.
Off we went to dinner at Coq d’Argent.
Obviously I looked like a super model. It’s whatever.
I ate a bowl of raw salmon, and was then presented with the perfect birthday cake. I knew at that point I was amongst people that actually liked me.
It was the size of a grape. So chic. I still didn’t eat it but at least it didn’t make me want to throw it at anyone.
The restaurant is one of the best. A great deal of city workers who deal in millions of pounds each day go there to jump off the 8th floor roof restaurant when they’ve fcked something up or lost a ton of money. Have I ever showed you this picture I’m obsessed with? It’s called The Perfect Suicide.
It’s a picture of a girl who was engaged to be married and instead jumped off the Empire State Building in 1947. She left a suicide note saying that she would not be a good wife for her fiancé or for anyone, which she then crossed out. She landed perfectly on a limousine. As you can imagine, this is very much up my street.
I watched the video of my housemates Lenny and Adi’s proposal and I cried. It was happy crying, but it was a good job I was not in the suicide restaurant at the time. I suppose at least I’d cried and consumed champagne, which is a must for any birthday.
So tipsy and exhausted I rounded up my day’s Snaps with a big fck you to anyone who hadn’t wished me many happy returns and I slept in peace ready for another day of spa action.
A few days later I met up with Lenny and Adi and they gave me the best birthday present I have ever received.
It is a LostItGirl necklace and it is amazing.
What’s happening with the guys?
Here’s some guy round ups:
This semi famous dude who’s now a songwriter I used to know for a while asked me “what I was up to?”
When I replied I’m out for my birthday, his reply was silence. He’s now blocked.
Ramsey Street too found out it was my birthday when I’d replied that I wasn’t at home and was instead at a spa. He didn’t reply with the customary “happy birthday”, but instead with a “who are you at a spa with?”
I love getting that guy all up in his feelings.
The footballer watched all my Snaps over the last two days but didn’t send me a happy birthday message. Prick. But he did send me a picture of his cock the next day. So all was forgiven.
If you ain’t got it, be a LostIt.