Another birthday has come and gone, and I have to say that turning 22 is not nearly as exciting as turning 21. I mean, I didn't expect it to be, since all birthdays after a milestone year pale in comparison to the crazy celebrating that happened the year before. And 21 is pretty much the biggest milestone birthday in terms of celebrations (unless you buy into that "My Super Sweet Sixteen" crap).
Still, it was fun. My friends kindly drove me out to Wendy's at 11pm when I was craving a cheeseburger, and they made me a cake (that led to the accidental temporary loss of many frozen waffles). I played in an orchestra concert, saw my parents and my godparents, ate a delicious dinner, stole creamer from a fancy restaurant, ate cheesecake, and talked to my sister. A good birthday!
The real fun happened later that night after my parents left. Occasionally, without any logical explanation, people act in unusual and crazy ways. That was Sunday night, when I returned from Wegmans to find my three roommates and Brandi (who basically lives here) engaged in an epic battle with a plastic doll from Becca's Happy Meal. They were trying to dismember her (the doll, just to be clear), using brute strength, scissors, nail clippers, a hole punch, and a lighter.
We're really curious as to what, exactly, was in the cheesecake that my mom made.
Anyway, they managed to rip the doll apart and then tape it to the wall above our TV, using the mustache on the wall as the doll's new torso. Then I had the brilliant idea to bring all my neon paper down to the living room to create posters to explain our interior decorating to visitors (and possibly to ourselves, in case we lost our memories overnight).
Next to the doll, on bright pink paper, is written, "A Lesson in Perspective: Your life isn't that bad. You could be dismembered and taped to a wall."
It seems to be cheering us up already, although people are probably going to stop visiting us when they see how crazy we are.
We also now have a massive, multi-neon-colored quote wall, and we invented a game called "Find the Torso!"
I love crazy townhouse bonding nights!
The best part was probably when Wyatt, who had somehow avoided the craziness, walked downstairs, stopped in his tracks, stared at us for a few minutes (Becca had a loop of tape on her nose and a red "L" on her forehead and was threatening to kill me as I backed away to stand on the armchair in the corner) and just said, "You guys are completely insane - but in the best way possible, of course."
My thoughts exactly.
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