When you’re a kid every birthday seems so important. You’re excited to grow up. But once we turn 21, every following milestone birthday makes you die a little inside. “Yeah! I can’t wait to turn 40,” says no one ever. We even begin to forgot our ages or that our birthdays are only blank days away. I, for one, never really cared for birthdays. Probably because my sister’s birthday is only 2 days after mine (she’s 4 years older, 3 years and 363 days older to be exact), so my mom always held a joint party where she invited all of her friends and my sister and I just sat around awkwardly. My sister really wanted my brother to have a special birthday and organized a “surprise” party. It wasn’t much of a surprise when my brother was expecting to have a party on his birthday. I spent most of the week trying to convince him that no one loves him and he’s less important than Chinese New Years so he wouldn’t be getting a party. I’m an evil sister, but it kind of worked.
My sister bought a Minecraft sheet and put it on an ice cream cake.
I told him I was hungry and wanted to stop by our restaurant to get some food and that I was bringing my camera because I started a 52 project, which were both true.
I decided to take a minimal approach to gift wrapping
After our party, we went to the arcade where I discovered that I’m stupid lucky and I should go to Vegas soon. I brought home a blender because I came up with the brillant plan of drinking all of my nutrients.