So, there is a such thing as celebrating too much?

This year, I said I was going to celebrate 30 three times. So what did I do?

Celebration 1 : Five days at an unnamed resort in Jamaica; and a jaunt to a currently embargoed nation in the Eastern Caribbean

Celebration 2: BBQ in DC for my DC homies. They flaked a little. But the one's who showed up made it all worth while. Oh and the after party in NE--getting my go-go on!

Celebration 3: Drinks and appetizers at a cute little Cuban joint in LES. With homemade bomb-ass brownies for desert.


See this where the problem arises:

Celebration 4: Surprise party thrown by my wonderful boyfriend and three other friends.


See, by celebration 4. I just wanted to go sit somewhere. I didn't sleep that well the night before. And then my fool ass had the nerve to go with one of my girl's all the way to Philly at 1PM when I had to be home by 7--back in damn near Manhattan.

I was excited about the surprise. But at the same time, I just wanted some quiet time. My girl threw me off from what I thought was a surprise party by telling me that she and he could not agree on location and theme. So, I was like "hmmm".

When Saturday rolled around, I was so tired I was hoping for "laid-back" not raucous. I was good for the first two-three hours. Then some haters showed up, and my artificially propped up energy went south.

I am so damn glad my b-day is over--until labor day.