Here's the thing: When you are single and of a certain age...you gotta make things happen if you want them to happen. And, sometimes, that means planning your own birthday party.
For my 33rd birthday (there's no anniversary of a 29th year -- I love my 30s and wouldn't want to go back to 29!), all I wanted to do was dance. My ankle is finally recovering after last year's surgery and the previous three years of constant pain, and I now that I can fit into skin tight dresses again, it's on, Save the Last Dance style (in my head of course).
I sent out a Google Calendar invite to about 20 friends and told them to come to Penn Social from 8-midnight (after midnight twentysomethings take off their shoes, so it's time to go). It's a great venue because it's large and has lots of games (like Skee Ball!) if people don't want to dance.
Red Velvet Cupcakery, my second favorite cupcakes next to Cakelove, had a Groupon last week, and on Friday, Groupon had a 15% off coupon for any Groupon. So I got a dozen assorted for about $17 to make it a true birthday party.
|Full disclosure: 900 was not my score, but I did get 260!|
The weekend before I helped a friend clean out/organize her closet (how I wish I could do that for myself) and took home a barely-worn Guess violet number that she didn't want. Then I ordered a gold tiara on Amazon to finish the outfit.
And that's how easy it was to plan my birthday.
A good number showed up, brought their friends along, and stayed for some or all of the night. I was pretty impressed that five of my friends hung around for dancing! About four other people were there for their birthday as well, not to mention a bachelor party who thought I was a bachelorette and needed a picture with me for a scavenger hunt. My friends were worried they would notice the absence of a honky diamond on my finger, but, um, hello they're boys! So I got away with it.
Lots of people I didn't know asked if it was my birthday and how old I was turning, and I told them 50 at first so I could do Sally O'Malley...
...but no one was buying it and I was having a difficult time kicking and stretching in my skin-tight Guess dress, so I told everyone I was 21...and they believed me. Well, I'm sure not all of them did, but a lot did. I don't know why, but I was really disturbed. So eventually I just said it was my Sweet Sixteen. By this time DJ Sheeno was playing and it was really too loud to talk, so I pulled out my best white girl dance moves until all my curls turned into a big ball of frizz on my head.
Now, you might be thinking I was consuming a lot of alcohol during all this, but you would be quite mistaken. My entire life people have assumed I'm wasted when I'm dancing, but the truth is, if you drink while you dance you won't be able to dance
DJ Sheeno played all my requests: "3", "Dark Horse" and "Regulate", as well as a bunch of old school favorites like "Ignition (Remix)" and "Fresh Prince of Bel Air", not to mention "Sandstorm" and "Better Off Alone" from my college days. (I couldn't pass for 21 any longer when only my friends and I could find the beat in those last two.) While I wasn't offered a new career option, I did learn a a new dance move from a girl that randomly joined our group. And I broke my bracelet. And my feet still hurt. It was a great night and a very happy birthday!