Friday was my Birthday

I turned 25. Now I am five years away from thirty and a quarter of the way to a hundred. And half way to fifty, and a third of the way to seventy five. And seven years off being thirty two, which seems like an interesting year somehow. Or not. On Friday night I went and drank at the Mighty Mighty with fabulous enchanting types and a man wearing a pig mask and policeman's hat. I took Polaroids and took one in which Abby looks like she's spewing demons on to the table. I was looking at the Polaroids just before and I have to say, there was an awful lot of beer on that table. Later, we Bex and Shannon and I were joined by my flattie Blair at a Yakitori bar, where Shannon insisted on calling the sake "sushi". Then we drank cocktails at Motel, where Blair told a very long story about reels of film tying themselves in knots all over the floor of the projection booth at his work, one which lead him to describe the difference between projectors with two and three plates.... blah... blah... eyes glaze over... And then he went outside and had a cigarette and a fascinating sounding boy-boy conversation with Shannon who refuses to tell me all the sordid details and satisfy my nosiness. Too discreet by half, methinks. I had a "rad-core" birthday. Regulars brought me cake. I like cake. Today another regular came back from New York and gave me an "I heart NY" tee shirt. Yay! Presents! Surprises! I have never been to NY.