My Birthday

I didn't keep the New Year Resolution to turn this weekly. In 23 days, I have written two blog entries. Ouch. That's embarrassing and I would feel bad if I had an audience, which I don't.

Right, I turned 19 a couple of days ago. I awoke to several Facebook notifications, which in the modern day, is the equivalent of waking up on Christmas Day to find all of your family members alive and drunk with presents underneath the tree. Or whatever. Tortured metaphors aside, that was reasonably nice to see, especially as some were not of the "Happy Birthday!!1" generic affair that you often see. I got about 90 of these over the day, maybe that number has been exagerrated to boost my ego, which is a fair amount.

Wait. It was 150 people. Yeah. 200.

The doorbell rang gleefully, despite it sounding like a gyre leading to madness, at 12:30. Two friends had come with cards, cakes, sweets and booze. I was taken too far aback by this, I wasn't expecting anything, I was expecting a quiet day that would be special and I wouldn't revise. Not that I revise anyway. I eventually decided I would go to town with them later and I would scope out a new guitar with the birthday money I received. This never happened, but complaining about it would seem ungrateful, not that it stopped me before.

Crude Facebook Event later and people were going to a friend's flat to commemorate THE BIG ONE NINE and I added invites as well and it seemed that it would be crap, but people would be there. This is how it turned out to be, but with a lot more conversation and chuckle. Eventually, we went to the pub and then to a club, which played glorious rock music all night long. The night was good, very good indeed, and everybody was up for it and had a good time. I was also drunk.

Wahoo.

Afterwards, I was put into a trolley and pushed home like the King that I was. We also met a Doctor, a real one, not one that has a PhD in Yachting or whatever. It was a good night, a very good night.

Yeah, that last paragraph should have been longer.