On Saturday, I celebrated what my roommate described as my platinum birthday. 24 on 2/4. These are the people for whom I am as grateful as any 24-year-old can be:
- My mom. On 2/4/88, I was just a passenger, she did all the work.
- My dad, who watched as my mom’s organs were lifted out of her one after another to clear a path for me, the emergency C-section. “You know that scene at the end of Braveheart? Yeah…. it was like that.”
- My brother, who suggested we finish our Words with Friends game after midnight, because “no one should be a loser on their birthday.”
- You awesome, amazing, brilliant, beautiful, coolest fucking friends in the world who a) shopped for edible glitter, b) baked a surprise cake, c) sent various Scrabble themed gifts, d) filled my fridge with booze, and e) brought your single, straight, male friends just in case I wanted to get laid. You guys rock so hard.
Cheesy birthday post? Check. Deal with it, as I was instructed to repeat all evening, “I’m the birthday girl!”
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