I Can Rant if I Want To

I was driving to Livingston on Friday when "Tears in Heaven" came on the radio. For the first time in, well, a very long time, I thought of that time when we were sixteen and my cousin played "Tears in Heaven" on that guy in the subway's guitar--which has got to be one of my favorite memories ever. I remembered that I was wearing my black slip-skirt, which means that I couldn't have weighted more than 105 pounds or so. Since this was sometime in the winter I was sixteen, which is the last season of my birthday years, I started thinking about my past birthdays. On my seventeenth birthday, Sara E. and Gila E. baked me a Duncan Heinz cake and messed it up. Hard feat, but they managed to pull it off. What we all learned from that cake was that if you spike Duncan Heinz mix with Vodka, the cake will shrink in the oven. They, of course, frosted it with chocolate frosting anyway, and brought it to school in the original (and too big) pan. On my eighteenth birthday, Sara E. gave me Shopaholic Ties the Knot, the third book of the Shopaholic trilogy, Tzippy S. gave me The Rules because her father had given it to her and she thought it reminded her of me (even though it's not really like me), and someone else gave me about five or six Dylan cd's. I remember my parents gave me something, but I wasn't expecting anything because they had just sent me to London with a friend for winterbreak (which was my dream ever since...oh, I don't even know when). For my nineteenth birthday, a guy I was seeing took me out to eat and to the Allman Brothers at the Beacon later that week. I love birthdays, they're just a substantial excuse to party (unlike Valentine's Day, which is a made up reason, or New Year's, which I can't stand). I can't wait to turn 20.