Last Friday was my friend Kristi’s birthday. And if I know anything about celebrating a birthday, then it’s going to involve copious amounts of alcohol. Ok, so maybe I involve bountiful quantities of alcohol for any celebration. That’s just who I am. What can I say? Distilleries around the world love me.
So it was Friday, the 19th of October, when my friend Kristi turned the big 24. Now, that’s not a big number in any way. It’s not, say… 25, which is a full quarter of a century. Nor is it 40, which is the number that marks the onset of middle age official. It’s not even close to 62, which is the when you can start collecting partial social security benefits. But, 24 is a big enough year to require getting drunk and taking birthday spankings from your friends. The spankings were not my idea. Seriously, I was a good boy. I kept my hands to myself for once.
For the record, Kristi spells her name with a “Y.” Thus, when she writes her name out, it is looks like “Kristy.” But I spell it differently. Mainly, I spell it that way because it makes her sound like a stripper, and that amuses me. She doesn’t seem too fond of it, though. One of these days women are going to realize that their sole purpose for being on this planet is to amuse me. Until they accept that one little fact, they are going to be perpetually inclined to hate and despise me. And that’s ok. I happen to find angry women entertaining. That’s just me.
Now, just because I’m a horrible person and I intentionally make my friend Kristi out to be stripper-esque, that doesn’t mean that I’m a terrible friend. I’m pretty sure I just contradicted myself there, but hey, I’m trying to make a point. Bear with me. Since I am such an amazingly good friend, and such a stand-up guy, I was explicitly put in charge of the whole affair for Friday night. Now if you’re plan for the evening is to drink, drink, and drink, then I’m not exactly the wrong person for the job. Some of my alcoholic feats are legendary. And then again, some of them merely involve me getting drunk, and getting slapped repeatedly. Eh, it happens.
The way I came into the position of leadership for the birthday festivities is quite a story. Well, it’s not a long story, not is it an entirely entertaining one, but it’s a story I’m going to share with you nonetheless. Personally, I find it somewhat amusing.
So, the week before (that would be the 12 of October, if my subtraction skills are up to par) I was out at a bar with Kristi and two other fine gents. Kristi, being a woman, and me being, well, me, I felt the need to say some things that annoyed and possibly upset my good female friend. Now, I’ve spent a good portion of my life learning and perfecting my abilities to piss off the opposite sex, and personally, I’d think it would be shame not to use them. So use them I did. For some strange reason, I don’t think Kristi was flattered by my improper comments. I think it was the fact that she repeatedly used the phrase, “I hate you,” that gave it away.
But in between telling me how me she hated me, which she managed to do repetitively on several separate occasions, she told me that I was in charge of her birthday for the following week. I was supposed to plan where we were going as well as recruit some more people to go out and drink with us. Now, I don’t know why the other two guys in attendance weren’t good enough for her, I mean, they were actually being nice to her, but apparently I was the guy for the job.
So in the intervening week, not only did I manage to negotiate where we would be transmuting our hard earned dollars into liquid, mind-altering substances (and by negotiating, I mean, I asked Kristi where she wanted to go, and then commanded everyone to go there; I call it leadership) but I also was able to garner a fairly decent crowd for the festivities. Ok, so maybe no one really came out because I said so, mostly they wanted to hang out with Kristi. That’s ok with me. Seeing as it was her birthday, the spotlight was most appropriately on her. I was more of a background character.
Now being in charge has its downfalls. It requires you to be responsible. And responsibility means driving all the drunken idiots home after a night on the town. But it was Kristi’s birthday, and I was in charge, so yeah, I think I can be the sober guy for one night, which is exactly what I did. So after a shortened evening on the town (we only hit two bars), we ended up back at Kristi’s apartment complex, hanging out with her neighbors. Up to that point, the evening was rather uneventful. I mean, there were shots taken, some singing, some dancing, and I’m pretty sure someone left a bite mark on Kristi’s ass (and it totally wasn’t me, I was sober, remember), but that’s really nothing to write home about.
So, here we were, seven or eight people, hanging around outside of an apartment at 3am discussing the possibility of ordering a pizza. Now, for those of you who don’t stay up that late, let me fill you in on a little secret: pizza doesn’t exactly get delivered after 2am, even on Fridays. So, bummed out, a few of our party left. Those that stayed ended up inside the neighbor’s apartment watching the recently released Transformers on DVD (good movie, by the way, even if I prefer the original 1986 animated Transformers: The Movie better). I neglected the box-office blockbuster when I found a copy of Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition lying on the kitchen counter. Beyonce was on the cover, ‘nuff said.
I had managed to not piss of Kristi while we were out at the bars. Seeing as how it was her birthday, I thought I could do at least that much for her. Though I have to admit, I accomplished this feat by keeping my mouth shut most of the time we were out. Yet somehow, I finally got on her nerves by looking at pictures of scantily clad women. Well, in all honesty, she was upset because I was slobbering all over the pictures of the beautiful blonde models in the magazine (she doesn’t like blondes for some reason). To be perfectly fair, I wasn’t just ogling the blondes, I was also eye-humping the two-dimensional brunettes as well as the insanely gorgeous Brazilians posing therein. And on a completely unrelated note, I’m saving up all my pennies for a trip to Brazil. Who’s coming with me?
Shortly thereafter, Kristi left to go walk her dogs and get some sleep. She had sobered up quite a bit up to that point, which was refreshing. If she had fallen too far into her drinks, it would have been my responsibility to look after her while she was sick. Like I noted before, I hate being in charge. But she was fine, and she left under her own power. This was right about the time her neighbor had decided to cook for everyone who was hungry since we couldn’t order a pizza.
Since it was now around four in the morning, I figured he was going to pull some chicken out of the freezer and throw it into the microwave or something. But no, he produced fresh vegetables and pork from his fridge and began chopping away. He even mixed up an Asian style spicy sauce from scratch to go with it. It was crazy. I mean, who the hell makes a home cooked meal at 4am? Apparently Alex does. Twenty minutes or so later, he served the stir fry up on top of some steamed rice in a fancy bowl. He even had chopsticks on hand for us to eat with (to his credit, he is dating a Chinese girl). By this point, though, the girls that were left had passed out on the sofa. So the only people eating were Alex, Joey, and me. Hey, more food for us guys. It was a good thing too, that Alex can cook up some damned good food.
My night finally ended just after 5am when I returned home, brushed my teeth, and fell into bed. As far as birthdays go, Kristi’s wasn’t too shabby. We all went out and had a good time. And most important of all, I didn’t have to baby-sit anyone. Because, let’s be honest here, I’m not exactly world-renowned for my responsibility. I feel for the girl who actually has no choice but to rely on me in her time of need. Seriously.
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