I didn't realize there would be a happy ending to my birthday blues tale from last week. The people I work with like me apparently (go figure, right?) and threw me a birthday party at work on Friday. I found out that they had been running around all day getting a card signed, picking up a cake, and collecting for the Sara-is-so-fucking-poor-can-we-please-get-that-bitch-some-money-so-she-can-cut-her-damn-hair fund.
And I have never been surprised before in my life (concerning birthdays anyway), so this was a big, happy shock. I even teared up a little.
The 21st birthday partying was a success, too. Although I only stayed out until 2:30. I spend the first half of the night saying (yelling), "STAYIN' OUT TIL 6 AM WHOOOOOOO" and at 2:30 was more "Gonna be sick....let's go home." But what was I supposed to do when people were buying me birthday shots, turn them down? Hell no. No drinks wasted here.
(Aside: I realized this weekend that I am, in fact, a woo girl. I'm all calm and shit until I've had one too many rum and coke drinks and then BAM! I'm woo-ing all over the place.)
And after I puked, I was ready to go party again, but we were almost home. Guess I'll save that for next weekend.