Oh hay guys. Just wanted everyone to know that I went out and celebrated my birthday again last night, and apart from dealing with the reality of losers who r.s.v.p-d and did not turn up, it was great! Cocktails were had, beautiful people were there, and I did not vom. All in all, it was a good night.
I even wore my sparkly blue vest/cape thing. Oh, how it sparkled.
However, as I get older, birthdays just become more stressful. I used to love my birthdays and looked forward to them all year basically. Now, though, it's just too anxiety-ridden. I constantly worry whether people are having fun and whether I am being a re-tard. I want that old blissful ignorance back where I revel in my own brilliance at surviving another year and celebrating it. Oh wells. 21 is over, all remaining birthdays are pointless anyway.
Oh one more thing. I want to share with you all the brilliant gift I received last night. Since I once proclaimed I would never attend a foam party (it wrecks your hair, makeup AND clothes!) Rosie brought the foam party to me - in a box. Yes, foam. In. A. Box. Talk about effort. And now I can say I've been to a foam party (not a phone party as everyone thought I was saying)! And it was fun x