Burfday

Yesterday was my birthday. I am 19.

Last year I was cruising around town in Twin’s car sporting a plastic tiara and grinning like a fool as she snapped pictures of my celebrating my transition into legal-status by buying cigarettes, lottery tickets, and a Play Boy.

This year is decidedly less climactic. There was no party with all my friends. There’s nothing I waited until yesterday to do.

I woke up way too early yesterday to the sound of mother’s boyfriend grinding coffee. I ate a delicious, but ordinary breakfast. I did some yoga. I ate some lunch. I tried to go berry picking with ChiChi, but the farm was closed.

I was going to go out to dinner with mother tonight, but the restaurant we wanted to go to isn’t open Mondays, so I don’t know what we’ll do.

Today I think I’m going to Milly with ChiChi. GreenBean and The Fertilizer will be there.

Sunday night I made dinner for the family.

In a few days Papa and co will be in town and I’ll celebrate with them.

But that’s it.

Birthdays for me have never been a huge deal. Sure, during the days leading up to My Day I get a little more excited. On my birthday I have a little extra pep in my step. But I’ve never been one for big blowouts or parading around like a princess.

Maybe that’s because I didn’t have a ton of friends as a kid so there weren’t many people to celebrate with. Not to mention that my birthday always seemed to fall during the most popular vacation week so the few friends I had were rarely in town.

And ever since my birthdays have been characterized by a dinner with mother where I got to pick what take out we got. Dinner with Papa where I got to pick where we went. And a gathering of stepmother’s family. I’d always do something with my friends, but it was never anything major.

This year is a perfect example.

I spent the day with ChiChi and the night in one of my favorite places in the Dirty Dirty—Adult’s house with Grill Master, ChiChi, Twin (who came to town just for the occasion) and a bottle. We danced. The men played Call of Duty Live while ChiChi and I dirty talked the nerds on the other end of the microphone. Twin and I attempted to play Call of Duty, but failed miserably. Grill Master talked about how lucky he was to be surrounded “by such beautiful women.”

(Apparently, Adult’s neighbors asked him if he was running a whorehouse because there were always so many girls coming and going. This made me giggle.)

Low key?

You bet.

Fun?

Always.

Special enough to be how I spent my birthday night?

Maybe. Maybe not. But I was happy as a clam so special be damned.

PS-It was also my pup, Rocky's birthday yesterday. He turned 14.