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Wednesday, March 14, 2007
I turned 3 -- Tamara was born. Though I may have acted rather excited at the time, after all these years of sharing every aspect of my special day, I am rather emotionally scarred. (I love you, Tamaram!) I turned 10 -- Every friend I invited to my birthday party was sick. I spent the whole morning crying. I turned 12 -- Me and my friends did a "progressive dinner" and had to ask people questions (like "Do you have a 1990 penny?" and "Will you sing happy birthday to Charity?") at every place we went. We met some guy named "Ricky Martin" and got yelled at by the people at the Chinese resturant. I turned 15 -- My friends threw me a surprise birthday party 5 weeks after my actual birthday. I had absolutely NO idea, even though they were throwing clues at me every time I saw them. We dressed up scarily and went to see "Cursed" at the dollar theater. We spent the whole night freaking out about warewolves and eating the pizza and ice cream that someone who didn't even know me provided. (Definitely my best birhday ever. Seriously.) I turned 16 -- The Plukes let us throw a party at their place. Dad sang "You are 16 going on 17" to me. I got a very pretty (and rather yucky) ice cream cake. I didn't get my driver's license. song of the post ~ "Where Do They Make Balloons" by TMBG (Ugh, I couldn't find "Older". Maria says this is birthday-ish enough. Right.) Charity | 10:10 am Comments-[ comments.] |