Being a leap year baby, I generally only celebrate my birthday once every four years. This not only keeps me youthful, it allows me to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to myself which has always been a main priority for me. So as many of you probably saw on Twitter last night, I planned a nice little party of one, at home alone with a bottle of Jack and a few Vicodin’s.
And then my door buzzer rang.
So there were seven of my closest friends encouraging me to snap the fuck out of it and party with them. They brought cake, balloons, champagne, party favors, edible body paint, binoculars, a police siren, cap guns, candy bra and panties and Mardi Gras beads.
Then they took their clothes off. I have such great and wonderful friends. Who knew a birthday party could involve so many outfit changes?
And get this, they said they’d only stay if I took pictures of the nonsense. I didn’t mind, since that’s what I do. So here’s what happened *click*