How I Explained My Birthday Based On Who I Was Talking To

How I Explained My Birthday Based On Who I Was Talking To

As some of you may know, I turned 24 over the weekend. I had said previously that all were welcome. That sentiment was real. All were welcome. The only thing that I didn’t account for was the fact that I was going to be completely hammered for roughly 36 hours straight and unable to think straight for the remainder 12 hours of the weekend because the hangover destroyed me. Texts went unanswered. Emails were ignored. DMs went unslid. I basically ghosted everyone this weekend, and it left them with a lot of questions, the main one being, “What did you do for your birthday?”

That one’s tricky, especially because I don’t really remember. I have a general outline of the days/nights, sure, but very few specific events to nail down. The only clues were Snapchat and a picture of a hot dog on my phone. So I tried my best to piece together the night and put together my best explanation based on the context I was in. Here’s where we ended up.

My Parents

“It was actually a really nice weekend. Friday night I went out in Noble Square with some coworkers and hung out at this punk rock happy hour type thing, and then yesterday I got lunch with Eric and Rachel at Small Cheval. They had to head out early for a work banquet, but then Hillary took Mark, Rick, her boyfriend, and some of our other friends from the city to this place with a special where you could get a shot, a beer, and a slice of pizza for less than $10. Went back to my place for a few quick drinks and then hit Old Town! Sure, I have a little bit of a headache today, but that’s why we’re at brunch!”

My Boss

“It was pretty cool. Had some friends come in from the suburbs, went out to dinner in Logan and then made our way to Old Town for the rest of the night.”

My Boss’ Boss

“It was a great weekend! Saw some friends and got brunch with my family on Sunday! Wouldn’t change it.”

Most Recent Bumble Match

Sent at 4:32 p.m.

Me: Hey, sorry I kind of went ghost protocol this weekend. I got caught up in birthday stuff, seeing old friends, you know?

Her: All good, I totally get it! What did you guys end up doing?

Me: Honestly…I’m not 100% sure. I know we went to Old Town but everything after walking into the bar is a blur. My friends were being very generous.

Her: Haha! Well it sounds like you did it right. Did you brunch today?

Me: Of course.

Her: Sounds like a solid birthday.

Me: It was. Hey, what does your week look like? Want to grab coffee or drinks or something?

My Brother Who Is A Senior In College

Received at 1:26 p.m.

Him: Happy birthday, bro!

Me: Thanks dude!

Him: How was it?

Me: Lit.

Him: Dope. What’d you do?

Me: Went to an Emo Happy Hour on Friday, heavy pregame on Saturday, Old Town Saturday night, getting brunch with Mom and Dad right now.

Him: *Hang loose emoji*

Me: *Rock on emoji*

My Co-Worker Who I’m Friends With

“Dude… dude, it was rough. Everybody got me bottles of Jack Daniels—which I’m by no means complaining about—but when we got back from dinner, I guess I must have made it a personal goal to drink as much of it as I could. The last thing I remember is belting “Tiny Dancer” with my friends as my roommate and her friends walked in the door, which I bet was weird for them because they were completely sober. Next thing I know I’m in the stall at the bar puking my guts out. I don’t know what it is, man. I just can’t hang anymore.”

My Work Crush

“It was a solid birthday. Some friends came in from out of town, we all got dinner and drinks, and ended up staying out until, like, 3 a.m. One of my friends actually tried to walk from Old Town to Edgewater! That’s, what, like, 45 minutes? We’re pretty surprised that guy’s still alive. What? No. No, it was definitely my friend and not me. What would give you that imp— oh shit, I have to run to this meeting. See you later!”

Not to toot my own horn, but I think I managed to explain the train wreck that was my birthday without looking too much like a mess myself. Here’s to the Kobe year.

Image via Shutterstock

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Using sarcasm as a defense mechanism since 1993. At any given moment I'm either tired, drunk, or stressed out. Get at me at or whatever.

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