There have been good birthdays and bad birthdays.
My worst was my 13th. First of all, I was sick as a dog so I couldn't have any of the usual birthday goodies. Secondly that was the year of the Practical Birthday. My mom gave me a plain seat to replace the dying one on my bicycle. My dad gave me a razor, but I hadn't grown anything to shave yet. Other folks gave me paper, binders, pens -- nothing fun or special at all. All immensely practical. I wept.
My best is a tie -- my 25th and my 40th. For 25 I threw myself a "Quarter Century Party". I was about to leave California for New Hampshire, I was in the last throes of working for a pizza parlour (well, managing it), a job I had held for 5 1/2 years, and I had a good number of friends. I put together 5 90-minute tapes to provide all the music for the party (I do a pretty damn good mix), had a couple big roasts, lots of beer and wine, soda for those who didn't drink, and told everyone to come dressed as their favourite self -- personally, I wore a victorian kilt (Clan Donald of the Isles, if you need the tartan) and a Mad Tea Party t-shirt.
For my 40th I held a "Pre-Emptive Strike Party", beating all the "Over The Hill" parties to the punch. Everyone got together at a nice Italian restaurant, we had fantastic food, lots of jokes, many memories shared, and then I went out with four friends for the rest of the night and got extremely drunk (something usually out of character, but it seemed right at the time). Ah, memories...
