Birthday Party

Without birthday parties to attend each and every weekend, I'm actually not sure that I'd have any sort of social life. If there were no weekend bar birthday parties, I would actually have to use my brain, and think of bars to go to on my own, instead of having my night's whereabouts dictated by a facebook invite. That's a scary thought. And, even if I don't have a friends birthday party to attend, I somehow manage to end up at a friend's girlfriend's cousin's roommate's bar birthday party just the same.

This weekend was no different, and was birthday party jam packed. Friday night was one of my Camp Schodack bestie's, Meelzybabe's birthday party at The Woods in Brooklyn, and--what a blast! (Okay you guys, I admit it--I had fun in Brooklyn. Now get off my back).

So, you see--I often tend to drink like it's my birthday on best friends' birthdays. Between my love of all birthdays mentality, my flask of bacaaardi, and a $5 dolla beer and shot combo that the bar was offering, well--I never had a fighting chance. The bar's most charming perk was it's outdoor space, that housed an actual TACO TRUCK. I don't remember much about Friday night, but I do know this: At three am, Lilly, Nate and I devoured the most amazing chicken tacos of our lives in the back corner of the bar. On my way home from Brooklyn, I asked the cab driver to drop me off five blocks away from my apartment so that I could scower my own neighborhood in hopes of finding yet another chicken taco. My attempts proved to be unsuccessful. I did not find a chicken taco, and instead clomped around in high heels for an extra twenty minutes. Looks like, I was the big loser in all of this.

On Saturday night, (yet another birthday party), I attended the birthday party of a highschool friend. A friend of mine at the party, let's call him Mike--(because well, that's actually his name), asked me what he could do to get a shoutout in my blog. I told him that he'd have to do something that I would consider to be blog-worthy."Okay," Mike said as he appeared to be thinking this over...when seemingly out of nowhere Mike "meatball licked" my face. I don't even know what that means. I just know that my left cheek was covered in saliva. Was having my face licked revolting? Absolutely. Did it earn Mike an honorable mention in my blog? Of course.

As always, late on a Sunday afternoon, I find myself longing for another weekend once more, as I am given the glum opportunity of living five days for two. But atleast, I know that if all else fails, I have a birthday party (or eight) to look forward to next weekend.