There's No Place Like Home...

I guess I'd like to pretend that this has been my best birthday to date.

In fact, I'd like to pretend it so much that I actually believed it for a little while.

Here's the reality: every single plan I tried to make on my birthday (September 30) and the weekend following (of October 4) has changed at least once.

Plan: My birthday night was supposed to consist of Vietnamese dinner and drunken karaoke.
What actually happened: I went downtown with a couple friends, a couple friends of friends, and a couple coworkers. It was dead because, of course, it was Tuesday night. But I looked pretty good, I must say, and it was my twenty-first birthday, so I shrugged it off. A couple of my "friends" disapproved of the places I wanted to go to, which, and let me be honest, pissed me the fuck off. Eventually I got drunk enough to not care, but not drunk enough to (godforbid) vomit on myself, or on anyone else, or at all, for that matter, and started having fun. A couple friends smoked me out and a new romantic interest was spurred with a so-called "good guy." Got home at 6 a.m.
The follow-up: Didn't sleep well. Hungover. Shitty day at work the next day. Romantic interest is dead in the water. Probably pissed off a few people.

Plan: Take Friday of my birthday weekend off to see Maroon 5/Counting Crows.
What actually happened: The tickets were expensive, so we could only afford lawn seats at $99 for a four-pack. This means three other people were required to go. Except two bailed on me, so I canceled the concert plans as well as my request off work. That Friday, while I'm at work, I get a call from Lindsey at 4:30 saying that her brother Peter had called to apologize about some fight they had been having and offer her and me tickets to the Maroon 5/Counting Crows Concert at 7 p.m.
The follow-up: Couldn't find anyone to pick up my shift, so I ended up working and missing the concert. I made $250, which makes me feel somewhat better, but is a small consolation nonetheless.

Plan: Throw a birthday party for myself at Justin's house on Saturday, October 4.
What actually happened: Though we discussed this plan two months in advance and I periodically reminded him, a week before the proposed party Justin claimed to have made two other sets of plans for that very night. I was immediately disappointed, but Lindsey came up with a quick save and suggested we travel across state to this restaurant I ate at last year and loved, and we booked a hotel room for the night and looked forward to our mini road trip.
The follow-up: The restaurant was good, but it turns out that the town is not very visitor-friendly if you're interested in hitting up the nightlife. We left the place, bought a couple pints of ice cream, and went back to the hotel. In the morning it was too dreary to go to the beach (as planned) so we got lunch and came home.

I'd like to believe it was some higher power that lovingly prevented me from enjoying my 21st birthday this year and not the fact that my friends are flakes.

But who am I kidding?