The other day, talking to my sister on the phone, I made a comment about how it was so weird how I was turning 24 because it meant I was finally an adult.
"I hate to break it to you," she said "but you've been an adult for like, 6 years."
.... She had a point.
Because I refuse to believe that I am, in fact, a grown up (and have apparently been one for kind of a while), I decided I needed to plan a big, immature, birthday blowout to prove that turning 24 is basically the same as turning 21 for the third time.
My party officially started on Saturday night with dinner at Blue Ribbon Bakery with my family. I had and entire fried chicken and a banana split, which made getting drunk at the bar afterwards shockingly difficult.
I met my friends at the Red Lion, and bopped around the West Village (letting everyone I met buy me birthday tequila shots) until 5am.
The next day, two of my best friends and I laid out in the park and accidentally showed up two hours late for my party. We did, however, look pretty tan.
We had drinks at the Standard, then went to Felix for "Dinner."
When we got there, (at 7pm on a Sunday, mind you) the place was BUMPING with cool European people. Literally I think there were girls from a chandelier and people spray-popping champagne. Shakira was blaring on the speakers and people were dancing on the bar. I was in HEAVEN.
Just when I thought it couldn't get better, Our hot hot waiter came to the table with the BIGGEST bottle of Rosé I have ever seen– it was literally as tall I am and so heavy it took two of us to pour. He also kissed me on the mouth (I say it was a makeout, my friends say it was a "peck"...) when he brought out my birthday cake, which was a big highlight of the day, but I think it was more due to the fact that he was European and that's what they do than the fact that he was into me.
The night ended with me twirling with a Portugese man, whom I'd convinced it was my 21st birthday (small victory), as he sang Taylor Swift's "Blank Space" to me in Spanish
A big thank you to all of my friends for making 24 a fantastic birthday, and to the hot waiter for the rosé and all the making out.
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| Last picture taken as a 23 year old |
"I hate to break it to you," she said "but you've been an adult for like, 6 years."
.... She had a point.
Because I refuse to believe that I am, in fact, a grown up (and have apparently been one for kind of a while), I decided I needed to plan a big, immature, birthday blowout to prove that turning 24 is basically the same as turning 21 for the third time.
My party officially started on Saturday night with dinner at Blue Ribbon Bakery with my family. I had and entire fried chicken and a banana split, which made getting drunk at the bar afterwards shockingly difficult.
I met my friends at the Red Lion, and bopped around the West Village (letting everyone I met buy me birthday tequila shots) until 5am.
The next day, two of my best friends and I laid out in the park and accidentally showed up two hours late for my party. We did, however, look pretty tan.
We had drinks at the Standard, then went to Felix for "Dinner."
When we got there, (at 7pm on a Sunday, mind you) the place was BUMPING with cool European people. Literally I think there were girls from a chandelier and people spray-popping champagne. Shakira was blaring on the speakers and people were dancing on the bar. I was in HEAVEN.
Just when I thought it couldn't get better, Our hot hot waiter came to the table with the BIGGEST bottle of Rosé I have ever seen– it was literally as tall I am and so heavy it took two of us to pour. He also kissed me on the mouth (I say it was a makeout, my friends say it was a "peck"...) when he brought out my birthday cake, which was a big highlight of the day, but I think it was more due to the fact that he was European and that's what they do than the fact that he was into me.
 |
| Yes Way, Rosé. |
A big thank you to all of my friends for making 24 a fantastic birthday, and to the hot waiter for the rosé and all the making out.
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