all the cool kids do front squats, eat hot dogs, and sing Disney songs on their birthdays

My birthday is the best birthday ever. No, seriously. Not just because it’s MY birthday either. July 3rd is a consistently fabulous day every year. First off, it’s in the summer, so no matter how bad the weather is (and it’s usually pretty good) I am so much better off than those poor souls born in, say, February. There is nothing redeeming about any day in February, as far as I’m concerned. Secondly, when your birthday is on July 3rd, you always have the day after your birthday off from work or school, BUT the Fourth of July is not one of those annoying and overshadowing holidays that make everyone else forget that it’s your birthday and should, therefore, be all about YOU. This is more like just having the coolest birthday buddy ever. The third reason it’s the best: there are usually fireworks on your birthday, and even if you don’t manage to go see some until the day after, you will remain thoroughly convinced throughout your entire life that the fireworks are being set off purely to celebrate your special day. This Independence Day rigmarole is entirely coincidental.

SO, my birthday was pretty fantastic, despite the fact that I had a cold/horrible allergies that day. These are some things that I did on my birthday (in no particular order):

1. Ate red, white, and blue cupcakes at work. Accidentally turned my mouth blue. Contrary to what the color scheme may lead you to believe, the cupcakes were brought in by a friend for MY birthday and had nothing to do with America.

2. Ate hotdogs wrapped in bacon. L had a little party for me over at her house (our house is not really big enough for parties), and made her husband grill a delicious variety of foods for us.

3. Ate red-velvet cake topped with oreos that Kate baked especially for me. Discovered that Kate is MUCH better at cake decorating than L and I were when we baked Kate’s birthday cake.

4. Did things other than eat food, I promise.

5. Got the unintentional birthday present of a crossfit WOD that I absolutely adored. Killed it, and had the fleeting glory of having the highest score on the board out of the entire day’s worth of scores. For fifteen minutes. Until L did it and squeaked out two more reps than I did. I was cheering for her our loud, but in my head I was shrieking, Nooooooo!

6. Sang karaoke with crossfit friends and L’s parents. The only songs I know the words well enough to do this with originate from either Disney or Broadway. Let it go, let it go, I am one with the wind and sky …

7. Got into a bit of a karaoke war with L’s husband who was not a fan of Disney OR Broadway (for some reason) and wanted to sing to rap songs that I had never heard of and was completely uninterested in.

8. Did part of a Shakespearian monologue for everyone. Not entirely sure why.

9. Wore a headband that made me look like I had multi-colored antennae for the entire evening. Got a horrible headache as a result, but it was totally worth it.

10. Could not leave the party and go to bed at 10 like I usually would have, because it was MY birthday party.

11. Ate second helpings of cake and hotdogs. Perked back up after that and did not go to bed until after midnight, which was technically not my birthday anymore anyway, and was also impressively late for me to be staying up at all. Because I behave like an old woman.


three-day weekends are just long enough to get myself into trouble

I hit roomie’s car with mine yesterday. WHILE she was in the car with me. Holy craploads of less-than-awesomeness. Don’t ever let me borrow your car; I will probably run it into something. Although if you live near me, you might want to lend me your car so that it’s not sitting still anywhere that I can run into it with MY car. Mostly, you probably just shouldn’t live near me OR lend me your car. In fact, I really just shouldn’t be allowed to drive. Not only do I end up three counties over from where I mean to go, but apparently, I’m simply not coordinated enough to steer around stuff instead of plowing into it. At least I have boring car accidents. They usually take place in parking lots at about three miles per hour.

As it turns out, I did almost no damage, and Roomie is going to the mechanic anyway for something else, so she can just have them touch up the paint while she’s there. Roomie was impressively chill during the whole incident. I’m sure this one will NOT cost me $750 dollars to fix. Though I imagine it’ll still cost significantly more than not running into anything at all. Like I would have done if I was a normal person. Who could drive.

On a brighter note, happy belated Memorial Day everyone! Other than running into roomie’s car last night, I had a fantastic weekend and went to FOUR parties in three days. That’s right. I have friends. I felt super cool for having all these fun plans over the weekend, even if it always turns out that I’m still the least-cool person at the party.

I was trying to leave a party with my CrossFit friends around 11 on Saturday night. I was tired. It was past my bedtime.

I know, I’m lame.

On the way out, I got a lecture from a friend, who is probably 10 years older than me, about acting my age.

Alex (in a rhetorical question sort of way): “Anna, how old are you?”

Me:  “Umm, twenty-two?” (I DO know how old I am, but I feel the need to answer with questions if somebody is telling me off for something.)

Alex: “That’s right. And how old are you acting?”

Me (head hanging): “Ninety. I know.”

I feel like a lot of kids have gotten the reverse of this lecture from their parents. I never did. But sadly, this is not the first time I’ve been told off by my friends for acting like an old lady. In fact, I’ve even been told off by old ladies for acting like an old lady.

Still the fact that I have cool friends to tell me off for this is a good sign. I’m at least SLIGHTLY cooler by proxy. Right?