Something to Take the Edge Off
[i.e. coping with another birthday]
Benjamin Kissell
These little f#@kers SOO aren't going for .99 apiece on eBay these days ...
To declare a simple truism [and homage my love for Jane Austen wit]:
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a person in possession of a looming birthday must be in want of a cake or party. However little known the feelings or views of such a person may be on his or her first entering the birthday month, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding friends and families, that the birthday is considered the rightful property of some one or other of themselves.
... That is to say: whether I like it or not, my 31st birthday is here and whether I'm ready or not, we're celebrating it.
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Keep in mind, there is a ridiculously high standard set by the bar of last year's birthday (my first with my amazing boyfriend fiance John); an 80's cartoons themed all-day costume party. We co-hosted as Skeletor (him) and She-Ra (me) - with decor in various shades of neon and crepe, vintage toys and books scattered around the living room and friends and family alike attending in costume. We had the Mario Bros., a Treestar, Rainbow Brite, Miss Piggy, Care Bears and Carmen Sandiego (from the game cartoons in the 80's). It was amazeballs. It was stupendous. It was ... a lot to live up to.
Like ... a f#@king lot.
I didn't even try to compete with it for John's birthday this year and was completely okay/very happy to let my 31st birthday slide by quietly - accepting the occasional gift and Facebook or Tweet well-wish. Of course ... well ... you knew it couldn't be that easy. Instead, I am facing down my 31st birthday [trust me, 31 is actually not that scary at all ... except that it firmly entrenches me in my 30s and I can no longer claim that I am 'just out of my 20s'] and having a dual celebration Pizza Party/Arcades of the 80's themed birthday party shared with one of my best friends. Full-on mocking the idea of maturity going hand-in-hand with age.
Because that? Is how we roll.
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If you were curious, yes I was Jerome ... sans the class, skill and bow-tie.
Why a pizza party?
One could assume it's because (in theory) pizza parties are more affordable to throw than a traditional birthday party - of course, one would be wrong when said party is thrown at home [between decorations, food and recovery-from-last-minute-cleaning-via-online-shopping]. It's because we had our childhood heydays in the 80's and both my amazing boyfriend fiance John and I have rather fuzzily-warm-and-friendly memories of just these sorts of parties. Also? What was a more fan-f#@king-tastic way to have a birthday circa 1987 -88 than a pizza party at Pizza Hut?
Go on, think about it. I'll wait.
*waiting*
*still waiting*
See? Nothing. Told you - there wasn't.
And because we're not about to put the sheer awesomeness of a bunch of 30+ year old friends and family celebrating like it's 1988 on-display in the mess that has become Pizza Hut [I'm sorry, but their little Wing Street re-launch? No thank you. Give me a darkened pseudo-Italian wannabe pizza restaurant steeped in grease and unfettered teenage angst for authenticity any day] we're doing the apartment up in red-and-white checkered tablecloths, crepe paper, and as many vintage tchachkes as possibe crammed in the kitchen, living room and sun porch.
And no, before you ask, despite the fact that I MAY friggin' resemble a hipster AND I am over 21 there sure as shit isn't gonna be a giant ice chest filled with PBR or cheap wine [although the sheer pathetic-ness of an ice chest full of PBR would be in-keeping with the theme ...] we prefer to take the edge off of this birthday thing not by getting blitzed, but by celebrating it. By actively engaging it. By taking its fangs out at the roots as we mock it.
... Although, if there were to be booze, my Trashcan Blue Mopeds would be APPROPRIATE.
uhm ... yeah ... pizza party ... yepp.
[PS - if I can ever find my f#@king The Land Before Time puppets, you can bet your bottom quarter that I will have some vintage authentic shit up in this joint.]
[PPS - a Trashcan Blue Moped: Monster + cheapest-brand-of-white-wine-you-can-find + Blue House Brand Fruit Punch ... you're welcome.]
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