This past weekend, I took the bus down to our beloved nation’s capital to celebrate my younger brother’s birthday. He was turning 21. Which is funny, because in my brain, he is approximately 12. For reference of what Holdie was like at 12, please watch this YouTube video on my family’s YouTube channel. (If you are really curious, I would highly recommend watching “Hadley 8th Grade Dance.) Regardless, this is what the dude looks like now.
You might notice he is sitting next to Snow White. This is Haven, his girlfriend, who makes me feel ugly 47% of the time I’m with her, and the other 53% of the time, just in awe of her coolness. If you need a few moments to feel bad about yourself, I understand.
Anyway, a good time was had by all. And by good time, I mean, by our 4th pitcher of margs, the restaurant had stopped seating people in our vicinity. Also, on Monday, when I said that Holden and I drunk dialed my dad, I really wasn’t kidding. I dragged along my three best District muchachos and the 6 of us ate our body weight in chips and salsa. We also drank ourselves into oblivion. Holdie’s actual birthday was a few weeks before, but seeing as I was in my personal hell (read: U-Haul, heatwave, and a 7th floor apartment) we had to push back our celebrating by a couple of weeks. Personally, I saw this as being a plus. I like to spend the entire month of November celebrating the day of my birth.
We obviously went to Cactus Cantina. Which, if you are not aware, is hands down the greatest eating establishment of all time. (I do not exaggerate.) Holdie and I have been going there since birth with our Aunt Molly. You gotta go next time you’re in D.C.
Being that I’m a blogger now, I forced everyone to take pictures with me for “content.”
*This photo was staged.
*Shockingly, this photo was not staged.
I hope you had the best birthday ever, Holdie. I can’t believe you are 21. I’m glad you survived. On my 21st birthday, I was in bed by 8 pm. I had also spent the hour prior to that in the Winston-Salem mall at a Brookstone trying to convince a salesman that I really was interested in purchasing a $2,000 massage chair, when, in all actuality, I just wanted a place to rest because I couldn’t remember how I got to the mall and I’d lost all my friends. So, as long as that didn’t happen to you, I think you won.
Now, just because I have no shame, here is a photo of me the next morning.
If you can’t tell, I am holding a Kindle on which I was reading 50 Shades Freed. Don’t tell me what happens. I’m almost done.