The day I turn twenty.

Wake up in the morning feeling like P.Diddy, Grab my glasses... wait. that's not right. 

Okay let's start again. Friday morning. My alarm rings at 8 but I blissfully ignore it until my mother wakes me up half an hour later telling me to get out of bed. I'm out of the house 45 minutes later to run errands with my mother before sending her to work I'm suppose to be going to practise dodgeball (There's a competition coming up - I don't know why I joined) but it was one of those days where all I wanted to do was sleep so I bailed. I go back home and take a nap because the weather was gloomy and because I can. 

My friends call and I have to fetch them, so I grab a bun and the car keys and head out. I get them, we come back to my place and proceed to watch The Walking Dead for a couple hours while we discuss the fact that logic is essentially thrown out the window when watching the show and wonder whether the rest of the world was also undergoing the zombie apocalypse. Eventually it's around three and its time to go to the hotel. My dad drops us off in the city, we check in and then melt into the bed under the covers watching X-men until it's time for dinner. 

We catch a cab to this almost-100-year-old restaurant that we suddenly decided would be fun to go to since most of us haven't been there since we were children. We get there and the place still looks old as hell and right out of a Country-Western movie. We eat. Food wasn't as great as it used to be. I had grilled fish. I like grilled fish. Everything tends to taste better when it's grilled. We finish eating. We go to a grocery store to stock up on coke as mixers and then go back to the hotel. 

It's still pretty early and some of my friends weren't there yet, so we get back under the covers and proceed to watch The Perfect Catch. Typical corny-as-hell chick flick, but we're a bunch of girls so we still watch it anyway while remarking how young Drew Barrymore looks in the movie. Finally, the last two friends arrive and they show up with cake. CAKE. A real one. Not a watermelon one like for my 18th birthday. they pull our party hats and we put them on. They sing, I sit on the floor holding my cake awkwardly. We take pictures, I blow the candle and then we eat cake.

The drinks start, and we failed to pace ourselves. I put on this video - which I discovered a couple weeks ago and we all agreed would be the central theme of the night. The kiki. Dancing occurs. Old school 2000's hip hop and pop songs are played. Terrible singing occurs. More drinks.  Somebody decides we don't have enough alcohol and goes and buys beer. Cardinal rule of alcohol consumption, Don't mix drinks, thrown out the window. By then, everybody is declaring their love for each other and there's just a lot of high fives and hugging going on. People are rolling on the twister mat or on the bed. 

Then I decided I need to puke, so I do that. I later learnt that out of all my friends, I am the best at puking because I aim well and can do so unsupervised. The little successes in life are the best. I alternate between lying down on the bed and puking until I eventually fall asleep. I wake up at 3 am to see my two friends sitting in the dark on the floor discussing how shit faced everyone is so I make a cup of tea and join them. I stumble around looking for my glasses, put them on and then check my phone.  This is when I discover the drunk dialling that I did, and the 40 or so text messages that my friend sent to some of my other friends.I read them and laugh uncontrollably for a good 5 minutes and then decide I want to sleep so I grab a pillow and sleep on the floor.

And that was my day. Not exactly the typical day in my life, but it happened.