My Birthday Better Not Suck This Weekend

My Birthday Better Not Suck This Weekend

I’m turning another year older this weekend, and I’m approaching it with some apprehension. You see, most people hate their birthday because it reminds them that they’re getting old. They feel the wears of aging set in and start to realize that time is running out for finding a spouse or buying a home or finding a career that their parents will approve of. I’m different. I hate my birthday because I hate having the spotlight for absolutely no reason other than, “Oh, yeah, my mom pushed me out of her vagina 24 years ago today. I kinda just went with it.” It’s strange because I love attention, but I feel like it should be earned not given. Birthdays go directly against that.

I’ve dreaded my past few birthdays (really, everything other than 21), but this year is on track to be different. This year, I’m not physically ill. I’m working four 10 hour days so that I can take Friday off (not because I’m one of those ass hats who think their birthday should take up the whole weekend. I just like to party). I’ve somehow managed to develop a consistent Bumble/Tinder roster, all of which I will probably drunkenly invite to my extravaganza this weekend. I also booked my trip to Phoenix today. That’s not really relevant to the situation, but it’s still exciting and gets me hyped for the weekend.

As it stands, the gameplan for my birthday includes some of my favorite things: listening to emo music, eating at bougie restaurants, and drinking heavily at shitty bars. Some of these bars will be less shitty than others—some may even call them bougie as well. But the way I see it, as long as it looks and feels like a dive/sports bar, I’m in. Then, Sunday, I have my family coming into town for a nice brunch where I’m almost 100% certain they’ll ask me questions that I don’t have answers to. You know, questions like, “What did you do last night?”

Now, what I’ve given above is a very general outline of the plan. That’s as far as I’ve gotten. There are a few bar names that I have in mind, but really I’m thinking we play it by ear. In fairness, I’m turning 24, barely have my life together, and all I really want is to see my friends who are coming in from out of town. We never see each other anymore and this is the first time that we really have an opportunity to hit it hard like we used to. It’s looking like it’s going to start out with the original crew and then add on throughout the night.

As much as I hate getting attention for something that I had little to no contribution to, what’s nice is that it gives me an opportunity to be a stubborn asshole and make the day about me. So when a friend asks if we can go to a neighborhood that I hate because it’s closer to his girlfriend’s apartment, I can say things like, “Go fuck yourself, Eric, I’m not basing my birthday plans around your girlfriend.” Do I feel any animosity towards Eric’s girlfriend? Of course not. She’s lovely and ambitious. They’re great together. I just don’t want to have to take an Uber 45 minutes in traffic just to have what I know will be just an okay time.

In an attempt to get one common thread going about this (as opposed to three separate group texts), I made a Facebook Event for it. Yeah. I went there and I don’t regret it. Now, it’s not an open Facebook event because I’m not a maniac, but I did tell everyone invited that they could invite whomever they want. And I meant it. Look, I love to party. I’m all about getting rowdy and making some questionable decisions. Even more so, one of my favorite things is seeing other people having a good time. If I’m involved with that good time in one way or another, I’ll be fucking ecstatic. And so, I am opening this up to everyone. If you’re in Chicago for the weekend, or if you live here and don’t have plans, or even if you’re in the mood to party with myself and my degenerate friends, feel free to get at me on Twitter or email or comments or whatever. I can’t guarantee I’ll get back to you in a timely fashion, but I’ll definitely do the best I can.

Let’s chase that content together, friends.

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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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