Normally, I hate birthdays because I have ridiculously high expectations. I want a midget dressed as a leprechaun pouring shots of tequila into my mouth as I ride from room to room on a unicorn that is eating pollution and shitting diamonds. Is that too much to ask?
My 24th birthday, I had no expectations. I felt that the best way to be happy with everything was to not worry about it. The day before, I asked some coworkers to come to Rios, which has literally been the love of my life since I moved to Denver. The reason that I love Rios is because I always get shit for free whenever I visit. This time, I got a shot of tequila and a free burrito. Seriously, how the fuck do they stay in business?
After three super intense margaritas and a shot of tequila, I wanted to go back home and sleep. My friends came with me and we all climbed into my house. I was literally so drunk that I was unable to put my key in the hole. I was expecting to be done for the night and to order a pizza/chinese food/both.
Eventually, I got the door open and before I had gotten the door all the way open, 10 of my friends screamed "SURPRISE" threw glowsticks at me, and started to ghetto blast Whitney Houston's "I want to dance with somebody."
I did the only logical thing: I ran away.
Now let's remove the hyperbole, while I did run away, I only slammed the door and ran like 15 feet before stopping. But, in fairness, I was fucking afraid. I get spooked hella easy. And when it comes to fight or flight, I'm out the mother fucking door leaving awkward dust patterns a la Wiley Coyote faster than any of the other bitches in the premises.
The next few interactions are a bit hazy. Apparently, my friends greeted me with shots and put a shot glass necklace on me. Something happened with glitter and Twilight references were made. There was a dance off. I broke a balloon by sitting on it. Absinthe. Call Me Maybe. Spanglish.
No one took pictures. I'm going to say that's a good thing.
While I wish that there was more to that story, I don't really remember anything from it. That sounds bad, but I think I had fun. My roommate planned a ton for the event and had a lot of really nice details for me. I'm very appreciative that KK was there to help so much.
That weekend, I did a few other things, but the most noteable thing was the LMFAO concert. Naturally, the roommate and I took the opportunity to make up a bomb.com costume.
|Most of our costumes were kind donations from my glorious sister.|
|A picture of us shuffling for good measure. And a better shot of my shirt.|
The concert was at Red Rocks, which is this glorious natural outside venue. The concert had free parking, which is always legit and you can pre-game outside. I was the DD, so I was sober on the way up and was very responsible during the event. (This was the first time that I only pre-gamed and didn't game; being old sucks.)
As we were dancing and making friends with people around us, randos kept coming up to us and asking if they had seen their friend, Molly. I kept replying that I hadn't, and when the third group came up to ask me about her, I started to panic. Who the hell was Molly? If everyone was looking for her, then someone should call the security department. I explained this to the final lad that had come up to ask me about her.
Apparently, Molly is a slang word for MDMA. He explained this. Then he explained what MDMA was. I thought it was really clever that I referenced a Jay-Z lyric about it, but he did not find it as witty as I did. Further, he kind of thought that we were stupid for not knowing about all of these drugs. I thought he was kind of stupid for not being able to hold a full-time job, but whatever. Different strokes for different folks.