Thursday, August 21, 2014

Birthdays.

I just celebrated my 37th birthday and rented out the downstairs space of a cool Williamsburg hipster bar. I also, with friends, decorated this space with Tiki-like chachkies, hula hoops, I even baked my own cupcakes. Side note, I just spent close to 15 minutes googling the correct spelling of chachkies, which apparently is a Yiddish word for dust collectors. Boy, Jewish people ARE really better at everything. Back to the birthday party, I'm basically giving you details that I can still remember. Yes, of course, I was drinking alot -because DUH, I can, it's my birthday. But I'm also at the age, where no one really gives you personal gifts, but rather a bottle of an old whisky wrapped in a leather band that you can probably rub on your chest when you think you're getting a cold.

My friends DJ'd (is that how the kids are spelling it these days?) because I wanted to have a good ol' fashion dance your ass off party. I miss those days. Well, I kinda don't. What I mean is, the last time I remember just dancing like no one cared to watch or however that saying goes is when I was in high school in my wanna be gansta bitch phase, which basically meant I just wore alot of Karl Kani man sized clothes and made up dances to Mary J. Blige's Real Love for hours in my bathroom mirror with my friends. Hey, it was pretty damn productive too, we had a Puerto Rican girl in our group named Jessie, who went on to study dance in college, and the bitch was that good. She was able to memorize choreography after watching a music video but one time. She was an asset for us. We even danced in small talent competitions across Central Jersey to Mariah Carey's Dream Lover and Janet Jackson's If I was your Girl. Can't say I haven't lived my friends.

Point is,  I don't really miss being an awkward teen in terrible, cheaply made men's clothing but I really miss those days of being so excited that your song is on, like the DJ was reading your mind and wanted to make you and only you happy. UGH. It's the best. I hate to sound like one of those older peeps and be all, this shit ain't music anymore - but it's not. It's lots of misogynistic aggressive turrets that's all auto-tuned. Like a Zumba class on acid or something.

My party started at 9pm - until. I put until to let people know I was serious about party time. Even though it was Thursday night, a Thursday night in New York is just as good as a Saturday night. Who hasn't gone into work on a Friday hair of the dog style? (I've always wanted to use that phrase but can't say it out loud without feeling like a dick. Plus I'm not even sure I used it properly..) My friends showed up at 9:30pmish, bought me a shit ton of drinks, chatted up around the bar for a while, then everyone made an exodus (again, thank you Jewish people, you get me) around midnight! No one even danced! Everyone's excuse was "It's Thursday night, you know Michelle, Thursday?" Um. What say you?

This is me waiting by myself for people to come to my birthday party. Sad? Independent? Fun? Sure, I'll own all of those things.



I was dancing, drunk, per usual, and forcing people into dancing with me, drunk, per usual. There were about 5 hardcore friends who stayed out till about 4am with us to have fun, and I love them for it, but the dancing element was not there. I was pretty disappointed. Drunk and disappointed that no one is dancing at your dance party in your late thirties is not where I thought I'd be in life, but it had happened. Then it got me to thinking (can you tell I watch Sex & The City like always? So much better then Girls, sorry, I'm not sorry) Am I too old to have a birthday party?

I asked some of my funny friends, how do you know when you're too old to have a birthday party? This is what they said. I heart them so hard.


You know you're too old for a birthday party when...

When you request the dvd set of Yo MTV Raps as a gift.

The songs at your birthday party are older then most of your guests.

When your guests don't have the energy to finish the birthday song.

When you are already dreading the next one.

When it's refer to as "the big one".

When you only get one candle on your cake.

When you have to serve coffee at some point.

When your mom is the only person willing to come short notice.

When your are planning your party around your friend's baby sitter's availability.

When everyone has to leave before midnight. (this one hit too close to home!)

When the piƱata breaks on the first whack. (?)


When you're ready to go to bed right when most of the guests show up.


When you ask the DJ to turn down the music. At YOUR PARTY.

When you're mad someone bought cheap wine, because when you were twenty, you would have just been glad they brought any bottle of SOMETHING WITH ALCOHOL.

When you ask if they can replace the candles with glow sticks, cus you gonna be too tired to blow on the candles...or anything else for that matter.

The only drugs you do are insulin and Cialis.

Your outfit is from Chico's and your wearing 'comfortable shoes'. 

You're toasting with Metamucil. 

You comment that you'd rather be home watching Castle and eating a snack in your bed.

You ask the DJ to play your favorite 8 track of We Built This City. (Great song though, just sayin..)

The cake has to meet your dietary restrictions.

You don't need condoms for 'that someone special' you might meet cause it just doesn't matter.

The party favors are subscriptions to AARP.


If you'd like to add your own joke in the comment box, pah-lease do, that'd be super cute. 

5 comments:

  1. It's a shame that no one really danced. I still like to dance even though I'm self-conscious about it. And my knees are starting to feel rickety.

    Was it your birthday party sometime in the last decade--really it was just between 2004 and 2007 (is time really passing that fast?)--that a bunch of us met you at a bar and Kristin's friend Swedish Fredrik pulled me onto the dance floor and we danced to ... Billy Jean?

    Maybe it was Halloween?

    I know I'm too old for a birthday party when my voice has gotten so deep that sucking helium from balloons makes me sound 20 years old again.

    Happy 37!

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    1. Girl, you know most of that time was a blur! Ahh, Billy Jean, good times. xx

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  2. You are just as funny as you are cute! Many more birthdays to you!

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