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March 18, 2013 | by  | in Features |
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Birthdays – The Worst Days?

Salient Shares your birthday regrets

I went to town on a Thursday to celebrate turning 18 with a boy I had a crush on. We drank vodka out of a straw on the waterfront. Blanket Man called me a cunt. We lost a karaoke competition and then went skinny-dipping in the mid-winter sea.

I took an open bar a little too seriously at a 21st and fell asleep on the toilet. Was woken an hour later once the party had ended after being discovered by a friend’s sister. Then I was waiting for the bus and was busting, so I urinated in the bus stop by Parliament. But I did it as I was sitting on the seat so that security cameras wouldn’t catch me. The puddle said otherwise.

At my brother’s 21st, one guy was sufficiently drunk/on codeine to give an unprepared speech about how this one time my brother made out with someone, not realising said person was a transvestite (he made the whole story up!). This was in front of my parents and many extended family members (who are very religious). It just got progressively worse until someone had to take the mic off him.

I was at my friend’s sister’s 21st and her dad went on stage to do his speech. He was telling a story about how when she was younger she was quite sick and had something wrong with her tonsils or something like that, and because of it she couldn’t suck her bottle. So he proceeded to tell the story and ended it with: “But it’s fine because today she’s now a great sucker!” There were several gasps and then everyone pissed themselves while her dad was standing on stage wondering what people were laughing about, realised what he said, went bright red, finished his speech mighty fast and went and sat at the back of the room.

My friends and I all figured we would be on different sides of the world when we turned 21 (we all still live in Wellington) so we all did speeches at each other’s 18ths. 18-year-olds have all the stories with none of the restraint, so my mother learnt my horrific virginity story, while I explained my best friend’s first night with Ibanov Vodka to his grandparents in excruciating detail.

When I was in second year I went to a friend’s 21st. It was a real formal affair—streamers, parents, grandparents, the whole shebang. So things were running smoothly, everyone was having a good time when another friend—let’s call her ‘Sandra’—gets really drunk, to the point that she’s shouting the word “slut!” repeatedly at the birthday girl while the birthday girl’s dad is doing his speech. And this wasn’t because of some sexual rivalry between the two but just because she thought it was funny. Naturally, everyone was shocked by this—including Nan, unsurprisingly—and turned to find the source of the hollering, at which point ‘Sandra’ laughed, stumbled, then fell over in a pool of beer.

I was staying with a friend around the time of my 21st at her communal/ hippy flat in Aro Valley. The evening of my birthday we had drinks; I ended up having quite a few, as well as some lines of a mysterious white powder. Sometime later, I was half-naked and yelling “FUCK YOU SOCIETY FOR MAKING ME INTO A SHEEP, I WON’T TURN INTO MY MOTHER!”. Later I woke up in the bed of a guy whose full-time job is quite literally making dream weavers to sell on Etsy.

I went out for a few drinks with my friends, had a couple of drinks, didn’t get laid.

On my 18th my friends decided to take me to a strip club. It was a Thursday, so a pretty quiet night. Not wanting to pay the Mermaids door charge, we went to Dreamgirls. Sitting at the back and drinking our $13 Mac’s Golds, we watched a woman on stage gradually denude herself. This was expected. Next, she pulled out an array of three dildos. A front-row observer chose one and away she went, leaving no hole unworked. The same followed for the second and third dildos (‘dildoes?’—never thought I’d have to pluralise it). The girl sat down, sipping from a bottle—fair enough, she was probably thirsty. Then, on her back she lay. I’ll save you, dear reader, from the next part of the story, only to say the front row was soaked by the contents of the aforementioned bottle, and they loved every minute of it. We promptly left— to Hope Bros, if you’re interested.

It was my 13th birthday and I was in Gore. Please don’t ask why. To celebrate my entrance into adolescence my family and I—which included my four young cousins who were Gore locals—went to the only Chinese restaurant in the village. We sat down around the circular table (which I am told is called a ‘Lazy Susan’), a Chinese tour bus walked in (not the bus, the people in it), then my cousin, aged five, crawled beneath the table and starting shouting “PENIS! PENIS! PENIS!” I wished I was still a child.

Early morning on my girlfriend (now ex)’s 21st, she left to drink at a beach (/bang my best friend all day). We then had dinner with her mum’s family, where she threw a tanty and started crying, her uncle decked me, I threw a bowl of cream on her grandma, and she threw the necklace I’d carved for her into the ocean. It took another fortnight for us to break up.

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Salient is a magazine. Salient is a website. Salient is an institution founded in 1938 to cater to the whim and fancy of students of Victoria University. We are partly funded by VUWSA and partly by gold bullion that was discovered under a pile of old Salients from the 40's. Salient welcomes your participation in debate on all the issues that we present to you, and if you're a student of Victoria University then you're more than welcome to drop in and have tea and scones with the contributors of this little rag in our little hideaway that overlooks Wellington.

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