Another Year

Tomorrow I turn 19, which is a pretty average number. In fact, it's very average. It is divisible only by itself and by 1. There are no laws surrounding the age of 19, since most of them were unlocked at 18. There is literally nothing special about this number at all. The only thing special about it is that it's the number between 18 and 20.

And that's a good thing.

That means that there won't be any massive celebration, only to culminate in absolutely nothing happening, and ultimately therefore being disappointing. For example, 16 is the first massive milestone when you're growing up into a young adult, and that was quite literally the most depressing birthday I've ever had. It made me despise everyone for a short while, even though that resulted in me making out with a random chick for the first time.

When I turned 18, though, that was easily the best year of my life, and the first proper celebration of having a multitude of things unlocked for me, like alcohol and ... well I'm sure I did other things that involved being 18. Either way though, my idea of the best year of my life would pale in comparison to what other people do, and there's a very good reason for that.

And this is why I love the number 19. There's no competition to see whose "coming of age" party will be the best. There's no disappointment because half of your friends can't go out with you. It's awesome because it doesn't matter.

And to celebrate this doesn't matter-ness, the only thing I'll be doing tomorrow is making a vlog and going out for lunch. I'm taking the day off. Just one day in the year where I'm not expected to do stuff, I can watch a film, perhaps even two (living the dream there), and also be in the company of people I like and pine over the people whom I miss. Nothing can possibly go wrong.

Don't think I'm not doing anything to celebrate though. You remember how Josh did that birthday party for me? Yeah, that was cool.

But it doesn't end there. On Friday, Dukey, Joe and Laura drove up to Leicester to see me and then all my Leicester friends gathered in a pub and decided to buy me drinks.

This was both good news and bad news.

See the way I normally do drinks is I have one, finish it in a reasonably long amount of time, wait a while, then get another. No, they weren't letting me. I was half way through my second drink when Tom Elliott came in and asked me "what are you drinking?" and sure enough another minute later a second Desperados was sitting next to my current. And sure enough twice, Hannah bought me another one when I was only half way through that. Oh, and a shot of Tequila, which is always a bad idea. Alannah also decided it would be hilarious to tell the bar manager that it was my birthday, but this next bit is actually quite funny.

There I was, petrified because another shot of the dubiously clear liquid was placed in front of me, everyone egging me on to down it, me refusing profusely because I'd already drank too much to have a shot and struggle to not throw up. Then I downed it, and a strange thought process had occurred.

That's an odd taste. I've never tasted any alcohol like that before. You know, it almost tastes like water. But that's stupid; humans can't taste water. Although isn't that the taste we taste? Nothing, and therefore must be water because I'm not dying.

"That was water."

That was also hilarious. Then a shot of Jaeger was placed in front of me, and everyone expected me to drink it because they were singing happy birthday to me. Lannah dipped her finger in it to taste, and told me it was her pathetic Vimto drink or whatever it was, and I was stupid enough to fall for it. Damn her Irish charm.

The next few moments were odd. I was like a stubborn child refusing to take anything. I even pulled the face. I couldn't really feel anything, and I knew I was at that odd tipping point where being drunk turned into dying. Fortunately I clawed my way back into real life and I was drunk again.

I say fortunately like being drunk is a good thing. Well, it's better than being dead.

People started to leave soon after and at about half midnight we decided to leave as well. For the second time ever (only the first if we count the ones I actually remember) Alannah decided it appropriate to walk me home, despite the fact that I had a Bear Jew, a ... okay, I can't come up with tough guy names for Dukey and Laura, and that's probably because they're too feminine, anyway this clause and the further subsequent clauses are starting to detract from the main topic of the sentence and so it's time to reel it back in, with me. I even offered to walk her home, but she wasn't having any of it. She absolutely insisted that we go straight to Liberty. She then learned that Joe doesn't do hugs.

Oh, and then there was the fiasco of getting everyone into the flat. I had warned everyone at least a thousand time that if we weren't careful the security guards wouldn't let us in. I asked them to look like I wasn't letting them in, and of course that's a ridiculous thing to ask of them because they're literally the most conspicuous people on God's green Earth and I could only sign Laura in, so I had to ask my flatmates to come down so that everyone could get in.

Jesus Christ.

Either way, getting up the next morning wasn't nearly as difficult and we were actually quite good at it. We're usually always late for everything, but this time we did quite well. We touched home at like midday because for some reason Dukey (as always) needed to be home, which is ridiculous because I wanted to do some Granite Moths (it was so the perfect opportunity) so now I have to shout at Dukey for that.

No wait, on Tuesday I have to shout at Dukey for that because tomorrow is my day off.

Good.

Well, thank you to everyone who came out on Friday, and thank you twice to the people who felt it necessary to make me drunk, and thank you a third time to the dudes and dolls who came all the way from the humble town of Kettering to come and see me :)

Aww.

On second thoughts, I should have really posted this tomorrow so I could incorporate the vlog... No wait, I'll just rip off what I did last year tomorrow.

Good.

Also, this is my three-hundredth post! Whoo! *Party pop*

Pete out.