Birthdays are always weird. It's the one day a year when the focus is on you (unless you write about your personal life...ahem) but it happens every year. Birthdays, again to use my sneeze analogy, are just bound to happen. I love to throw big parties and celebrations, but the actual day of celebration is just...weird.
There's all this pressure to have THE BEST DAY EVER OMG IT WAS JUST LIKE JUSTIN BIEBER BARFED A RAINBOW happy. I personally enjoy the text messages and lovely flowers and cupcakes that I eat with aplomb, but something about birthdays has always made me uneasy.
Maybe I'll chock it up to being nervous that my locker wouldn't get the ribbon and wrapping paper mark of friendship in the fifth grade hall, or that the boy I was hooking up with would acknowledge that yes, I am in fact one day older, today.
You always sort of secretly wish that your birthday will basically be an epic montage of every pinnacle moment in a teen movie: Jake Ryan, holding Yogiberry, with his iphone (have to make some adjustments here), or that Freddie Prinze Jr. will ask you to dance, or that Heath Ledger will buy you a guitar (and by guitar I mean...necklace?) In writing that list I realized those all revolve around men. Analyze that, Jezebel.
I love to see who posts on my Facebook wall. Each and every post is treasured, but extremely and utterly random. A good friend will write something soppy and/or unintelligible to anyone other than you (UGH I HOPE YOU'RE "DANCING" WITH "DOUG" RIGHT NOW!!! I don't remember who Doug is the code name for anyway). This post will then be followed by someone that you a) haven't seen in five years and b) aren't even sure you know. Either way, it's very nice and sweet.
Birthdays and dating are also hard - do you throw him a party? Do you let him plan one for you? Do you get him anything even though you've only been dating for two months but you've thought of something cute already but you don't want to come across as a Stage 5 Clinger? Sigh.
This year, since FFJD is now like, rly important and stuff, I decided to do what other starlets do - have a sponsored birthday party. The pictures haven't run yet, (I sold them exclusively to Star right next to the MISCHA BARTON CELLULITE SECTION) but I'm confident that I looked pretty good in the middle of that staged water gun fight hosted by Jon Gosselin and Kristin Cavallari at Wet Republic.
The night was then followed by a blowout at Tao, where my cake was actually in the shape of "FFJD" and was presented to me as I ceremoniously blew out the candles, with my skinny arm out. I begged Scott to not pick a fight with Kourtney in the club and punch someone. It was my night.
At the end of the evening, just as I thought that my night couldn't get any better, James Franco asked me to be his Oscar date. I agreed, but if and only if Rodarte designs. He sighed and said, "you're just not allowed to write about me." How FFJD.
This year was an overwhelming and wonderful display of affection. So thank you to everyone, and I'm happy it's February 17.
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