Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls...
I survived my twenty-first birthday. Barely. But I did it. Actually, I am convinced that I died and came back to life, and suffered the entire week following August 31. I went out Saturday night at midnight, got bottle service with some of my friends and then the infamous "friends of friends" group who I have never met before and probably will never meet again, but hey, thanks for the free drinks for a few hours. I went home and slept, woke up the next morning and did it all again... this time, with brunch. Not just any brunch I might add, bottomless mimosa brunch. I remember the first half of brunch, and that is about it. And oddly I remember everything from the night before, just the time between brunch and dinner is all a blur, but don't worry, my friends love me and took lots of pictures to remind me the next day what happened... Lots of singing and dancing was involved.
Dinner involved me, "the boy," Erika, Angie, my parents, and my aunt and uncle, and the worst waiter on the face of the planet. Like he made us all very anxious.
Overall my birthday week was successful )if we are counting success as not remembering the majority of your 21st birthday)!
Now here is my birthday weekend in pictures:
