Below, my sister (Sad Robots) would like the floor to explain, in detail, her birthmonth festivities for 2012:

Birthmonth Recap:

1. Family Party

Every year, my grandmother throws a party for my mom and I (she has an August birthmonth too) that, no matter what, always consists of two things: mashed potatoes and ice cream cake. But, you know, not together (FYI I’d totally eat that, just sayin’). This year, the party was combined with my uncle’s too for some kinda crazy triple birthday party. It was good times.

2. Birthday Dinner

I’m a big fan of creating senseless traditions, so every year since I turned 21, I go to El Rancho Grande for my birthday. Although I say it’s because of the sombrero, which is definitely a big part of it, secretly it’s because my 21st birthday was the last one I got to celebrate with my dad, so by going back there every year, in some illogical way it feels like he still gets to be there with me, half laughing at me for my drunken antics and biting his tongue about lecturing me on poor drinking habits. I should clarify that “poor drinking habits” to him meant “don’t get a DUI.” This year, we got to sit at the big party table, and I got to drink a big margarita, and eat a big meal, and, as always, snort a dangerous amount of whip cream. The best part? Our server said if I have two more birthdays there, I get to keep the sombrero. Acquiring this sombrero is my new goal in life because, you know, it’s important to have high aspirations.

3. Work Party

Speaking of triple birthday parties, my coworkers don’t often celebrate birthdays or go out for drinks together, but I have two other coworkers with birthdays all in the same week as mine (birthweek?). Every year we go to the Wine Gallery to grab a drink after work to celebrate our three birthdays. The coolest part about this is that my boss gives us gag gifts from her antique collection. I’m not really sure how it works, but I believe she and her husband buy estates, so they have a “workshop” filled with random things. Last year my boss found me an apron. I think this was funny because I can’t cook? I’m not sure. This year, she found me a set of Melmac dishes. Anyway, it’s a fun hour of awkwardly trying to make small talk about non-work related things while trying not to do or say anything to increase the perception of the massive age discrepancy between me and my coworkers (the next youngest person in my department is 45).

Aptly, The Onion posted this article that same day: http://www.theonion.com/articles/afterwork-drinks-enter-third-excruciating-minute,29185/

4. Lady Date with the BFF

I have the best best friend in the entire world. She plans vacations for us every year. She invites me over every week to watch True Blood. She bakes delicious desserts in her kitchen while I blather at her. She makes sure I never do anything stupid in my rampant eccentricity. This year, she told me she would take me on a lady date for my birthday anywhere I wanted to go. Girl About Town wrote about our fun excursion to Roost, but my BFF also got me flowers, and after dinner, we watched The Godfather II at the Victoria Theatre for part of their Cool Films Series.

Afterward, we dissected the movie together over a glass of wine at the Wine Gallery, but then had to leave because the music they were playing was just awful. It was like Jimmy Buffett trying to cover Kenny G and it made me want to stab out my ear drums with pencils. The cool thing about the Wine Gallery, though, is that they have themed wine flights for those of us who only like a general taste of wine and are also very indecisive. Despite the music and my remarkable inability to follow the plot of movies (by ‘dissected the movie’ I really mean she had to explain to me a lot of the things I missed), it was a fantastic evening.

5. The Grand Finale, or what I called, “Beth’s 23rd Birthday or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Sombrero”

Birthmonth is winding down, so my big shebang this year was throwing a birthday party for myself at the Trolley Stop in the Oregon District. Because apparently this is a weird thing to do, I’m going to go ahead pull out the FAQ before I summarize the evening’s shenanigans.

Q: Why are you throwing your own birthday party?

A: Who else is going to do it?

Q: What’s so special about turning 23?

A: First of all, please refer to it by what it is: The Big 2-3. It’s the last year of my early twenties. Next year, The Big 2-4, is going to be a big year because it’ll be the first year of my mid twenties. The year after that, The Big 2-5, is going to be a big year because I’ll be old enough to rent a car. My point here is that every year is important and I’m going to celebrate it like it’s my last, humility be damned.

Q: Why do you throw so many parties anyway?

A: Because we all have our special talents. Mine is introducing you to all of your future friends and being one of the funnest people you’ll ever meet. I repeat: humility be damned.

Q: Why the Trolley Stop?

A: I have a friend who knows the people who own it/work there, they have a nice room (more like a haunted house) to rent for a very reasonable price, you can have your own bar and bartender, and have you ever had their turkey sandwich? It’s delicious.

Back to the shenanigans:

So you know how I said I have the best best friend ever? She decided to cater the event with delicious, mostly vegetarian food. No really, she has some kind of crazy talent for building menus and cooking wonderful things. I’m going to hire her to cater my future parties. Anyway, I had a really great time because I got to hang out with some of the most amazing people ever and introduce them all to each other, I got to drink a lot of my favorite whiskey, and I got to tell a lot of my favorite stories. It wasn’t a crazy party (as my parties are wont to often be), but it was a good party and I can only hope that everyone had as good of a time as I did.

My next shamelessly narcissistic venture is going to be my housewarming party when I close on and move into my new house. Be forewarned, it’s going to be the housewarming party to end all housewarming parties. A house just can’t be called a home until it’s wrecked with a good dose of drunken chaos.

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