You say it's your birthday...

Well, it's my birthday too, yeah.

No, really. It is.

I'm 35 now. Wheeee!

I was going to try and post something deep and introspective but let's face it. I'm not all that deep and introspection is for navel gazing emo boys.

Instead I will share the story of two people from my past who share my same day of birth. One a year younger and one a year older.

First the younger, Mindy (not her real name).

I met Mindy my sophomore year in high school. I don't know how we started hanging out, but it probably had something to do with the fact that we both liked cigarettes, booze and writing (awful awful) poetry.

We thought ourselves deep. No one could possibly understand the depth of our deepness. Oh no.

Sometimes we would meet at the library to study. Studying consisted of us walking down to the 7-11 to buy a Big Gulp of Pepsi to mix with our pilfered whiskey and smoking as many cigarettes as we could suck down.

Mindy was by far the bigger JD which is really saying something because I was no Pollyanna myself. I just never got caught.

Which brings us to our story.

One day Mindy and I were hanging with another acquaintance, Sheila. Sheila was kind of a puppy dog. Didn't really have an opinion about anything and was just happy to be part of the team. Present day, she's probably got a comfortable desk job at Human Resources somewhere.

She was a nice girl. So nice that she gave Mindy and I a bottle of peppermint schnapps she stole from her parents' liquor cabinet to prove...I don't know what she was trying to prove. I do know we happily accepted it and stashed it for later. Mindy and I were going to the football game that night.

I'm not sure why. Maybe we just needed to get out of the house. Maybe there was a boy involved. Doesn't matter. We were going and we were planning on putting away at least some of that bottle beforehand.

Cut to the second quarter of the game. Mindy's leaning on me and not making any sense. As "hardcore" as we thought we were, we really didn't drink much of that bottle. Peppermint schnapps is gross. I didn't want to be drunk that badly.

Unbeknownst to me, Mindy was on some psychiatric medication that...you guessed it...you shouldn't drink with. Hey now! That would have been some useful information. Add to that Mindy drank WAY more than I did.

So, I'm literally holding Mindy up in the stands when I catch the eye of someone who was also in the school play with me at the time. I think he saw the fear in my eyes, and helped me drag her out of there.

I don't know why I thought we could get out of there without attracting the attention of anyone, but 5 minutes later an ambulance was there. It was bad.

I didn't hang out with Mindy much more after that. I'm pretty sure that set a precedent in my mind for my distaste of sloppy drunks. Hold your liquor people. And for the love, learn how to mix your booze and drugs properly. Sheesh.

My other birthday pal was a boy named Jack (again, not his real name). He was a year older than me and went to a different high school.

Jack was "arty" and VERY into himself. I'm embarrassed that I made out with him. He probably pretended he was kissing himself.

After a few weeks of phone calls and a train ride into the city, I decided he was just a little too pouty and flouncy for my taste. But that didn't stop him from writing me letters.

One letter contained pictures he had taken of himself. In women's clothing.

Now, that's all fine and good for him. Kudos to him for being so self aware at 17 to know what he's into.

To my 16 year old self though, this was just way too much.

I wish I still had those pictures. I threw them away for fear my fundie parents would find them and never let me leave the house again.

By the by, I also share a birthday with Kate Moss, Edgar Allan Poe and Janis Joplin.

What is it with me and these tragic figures?