How I celebrated becoming 1/4 of a century.

 

So.

My 25th birthday.

Major issues for me.

I’m not like most people in that I freaked out at turning 25 rather then 30, 40 or any of those other milestones. Nope. Not me. I was freaked out because I was ONE QUARTER OF A CENTURY .  For realz. I kid you not. I phoned up everyone, months and weeks in advance lamenting about my coming age. How this was it – I was officially going to be too old for most things. Too old to dye my hair blue. Too old to qualify as a “youth” for all the free programs. Just too damn fucking old.

Well I was having none of it (every time I see that phrase I think of Nunavut – which makes me giggle). God forbid I should climb over this milestone without some sort of gathering to mourn my youth and wallow in self-pity over my old age. I was going to have a freaking party. An honest to god, gathering of people. Some of who I hardly knew. It didn’t matter. I was going to do this even if not one person showed up. I became determined. I became obsessed. I became that person that everyone avoids because they only want to talk about one-goddamn-thing. Yes. I was that person. I am sorry.

I had decided that the party was going to be at a friends house.  I decided it was going to be potlatch style. I also told everyone that there would be an optional “Chinese gift exchange” (if you are uncertain see here).

Anyways…

About 20 people show up, which in a private residence takes up a fair amount of space. We took up the entire living room area, the dining room, and had people standing in the kitchen. It was awesome.

After everyone ate, those who had brought gifts participated in the gift exchange. I had made sure that there were 2 extra gifts in case another person wanted to participate but didn’t bring a gift. I am nice that way.   Fuck was it ever funny. The gifts that were exchanged ranged from doller-store gift bags of loonie swag,(fuck you WLW! I even googled it to make sure I could spell the name of my countries currency correctly)  to more thought out and expensive items. I don’t think there was a single person who didn’t enjoy their gift. (Well ok. One person didn’t. Or at least they left the gift behind. It was one of the extra gifts t. Cheesecake flavoured lube ). I don’t think there was a single person who didn’t pee themselves a little at the expense of others.

A group of my friends had also collaborated and purchase me a beautiful corset. (I’m obsessed in case you didn’t know). I was extremely surprised and delighted to say the least. BUT this was not the best gift of the night….

All the gifts were exchanged. Those of us who had to run upstairs and change our underwear did. I was busy chatting with another person when I feel this tap on my shoulder. I look over and there is X holding out a birthday bag, filled with tissue paper.   You will NOT belive what I got.

BEST GIFT EVER!

I pulled it out and every fucking person stopped and stared. Then began the laughter. Waves and waves of laughter as I brought out and showed to everyone my awesome gift. My very own penis making kit. One that vibrated even. You should have SEEN my boyfriends face. I have never seen it redder, or seen the laugh-tears flow down his face faster. Every person was giggling away. Except me. I got serious, yo. I told every person there that there was NO WAY I could use this. Not a chance in hell.

Not before I had held the auditions anyways *waggles eyebrows*.

And that is how, when turning 25 – I simultaneously propositioned around a dozen men between the ages of 30-50 – and finally admitted to myself that maybe I don’t have a brain –to –mouth filter. 0.0

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