1995

Being that is November 22, it is that time of year again.

Thanksgiving? Christmas? No, something in between...

The celebration of the birth of yours truly, kj4ever.

It takes a week to celebrate my birthday, as of course it has to be an extravaganza. I usually have three parties: One from the people at work, one from my brother, and one from the original party people.

Last year had an addition to the extravaganza, to the tune of "girls night out."

My birthday sucked a bit last year, as it was the first without my ex boyfriend. We had been together for about 3 years, and it was tough. It didn't end in one of those I hate him or he hates me situations, and if it had it would have been easier. We still loved each other, but both realized it just wouldn't work.

So for the last 3 birthdays I had an extra extravaganza with him that would be missing. My bestest friend in the world R decided that we needed a girls night out.

Easier said then done, considering my birthday is December 19th. The weekend closest to my birthday is always the weekend that companies have their Christmas parties. Trying to coordinate this was not an easy task.

It ended up being just 4 of us, R, my sister-in-law (sil), H, and myself. We decided to

dress.to.kill.

"Where's a cool place to go?" R asked. Hell, I had no clue. I used to be up on that shit, but not so much anymore. We decided to go to a sports bar in the neighborhood, as it was close and cheap (that whole Christmas thing rearing it's ugly head again). My little nephew said he would drive the party bus, aka take our drunk asses home when we were ready.

So my nephew dropped us off. It was a cool little place with a good DJ, pool tables, dart boards, and nice mix of people. We scoped the place out and had our first cocktail.

We grabbed our drinks and started playing darts. A rather handsome young man came up and said hi. His name was Jack, and his friends and him wanted to play darts with us when we started a new game.

He chatted me up a bit and was actually kind of cool. I could see how young he was, but I didn't like babysitting when people paid me to do it. No thanks. During the conversation it came up that we all went to the same high school.

"What year did you graduate?" Jack asked. R, H and I all replied with "1989" My sil, who is two years older then us, said, "1992." Bitch.

He kind of got a funny look on his face and said, "Really? Are you kidding?" I was about to take this as a compliment when he said, "Wow I can't believe you guys are old."

Fucker.

It ended up that Jack graduated in 1999 and was a just a little bit over 21. His desire to play darts diminished as he decided to "mingle."

Fucker.

A third round of drinks made us forget all about the 21 year old who called us old.

Fucker.

Well, maybe it didn't but we were having a damn good time by then. We asked my sil why the hell she said 1992, and she replied, "Women are supposed to lie about their age." We took this as sage advice and decided we would all say that we had graduated in 1995. Math was difficult after the fourth drink, and we argued about how old we were.

Then a guardian angel in the form of an older man (29) came up to our table. His name was Sam, and he decided that we were much to pretty to ever buy our own drinks.

He had a couple of cute friends, all in their late 20's. We informed them that we were not out on the prowl, and he dismissed the idea, saying that he just wanted to enjoy our company because we seemed like we were having so much fun.

One of his friends asked how old we were. "1995!" R and I said in unison. "What they mean is they graduated in 1995. I graduated in 1997," the bitch sil said.

"What the fuck? You got to be younger then us last time!" I protested. Now our secret was out of the bag, but hanging around a bunch of crazy ass early 30's women didn't seem to faze these gentlemen.

So we drank and laughed and had a great time. Music was pumping through the bar, and we decided to dance.

Jack was out there dancing with a disinterested red head. Now I might be "old", but one thing I can do is dance. Soon we took over the dance floor and showed the youngins a thing or three.

All in all it was a great night, and by the time we called up the party bus to pick us up we were pretty well hammered.

My poor, poor nephew got quite an earful on the way home, as you can imagine was early 30 something drunk women night talk about. He's already asked, "Do I HAVE to?" about this year, as we have decided a girls night out is now the new tradition.