Cadre Of Awesomeness
After ushering in my thirty-seventh year alone on a strange Angelino couch, I wasn’t about to let it happen again with thirty-eight.
Accordingly, Abbi and I kicked off my Birthday Week (what the heck, right?) last night with drinks, dinner, and a dozen dear family and friends. The criteria was simple: no one from work (sorry guys), and no one with whom I would feel stuck in conversation.
It was a cadre of awesomeness populated by friends who’ve known me since college, pals who picked me up on the Interwebs, and an adorable newborn with whose assistance I learned the following valuable lessons:
1. Do not begin a night — any night — with Guinness and end it with Petron Silver. Just don’t.
2. Do order the random midnight pizza.
3. Six bags of ice is still not enough.
4. There’s just not enough time to spend with everyone you love.
5. Sucking the helium out of the balloons and singing contemporary pop hits remains a hilarious end-of-party ritual, even at 37.999-years-old.
Oh, and this one bonus lesson (one I learn over and over and over): My wife rocks.
Despite all of those valuable lessons, though, I was left with one serious question: What does it mean when four different friends give you a bottle of Petron Silver for your birthday?
