In brownies and Girl Guides
You got a Birthday badge if your birthday fell on a meeting day.
Because there was never a meeting on boxing day (my birthday) I never got one.
They were all bitches anyway (except the ranger who could fit her glasses in her mouth, she was cool)
( Blobcat Less Jaffacakes this year, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 20:05, Reply)

Uncle's birthday
my uncle was having a party for his 40th. It was about 9pm an my uncle had been in the pub since six so he'd drank quite a bit. At ther house they had a smoke machine in the living room that one of the kids had got 4 xmas and sum dj decks.

My uncle decided to be dj so he puts on sum music an everyone's dancin. then he started chantin "I'm not gay but my boyfriend is" everyone joined in jumpin up an down an chantin even my 82 year old nan.

He got a bit carried away with the smoke machine by not takin his foot off the peddle. The window was open an all the smoke from the machine went out the window.

Twenty minutes later my drunken uncles givin it his best on the kareoke singin simply the best by tina turner wen the my auntie comes in with two firemen.

apparently they had been called by a neighbour who thought the house was on fire.My uncle was to pissed to notice an carried on singin.

Next day he cudn't remember a thing. Only wish i cud of filmed it
(torture bunny lives under the kitchen sink, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 19:23, Reply)

My worst Birthday...
Was this year. It was my 16th, and while most of my friends had had parties or gone out for a meal somewhere to celebrate, I couldn't.

My Nan had died 3 weeks earlier, and I was half way through my GCSEs.

Because my nan's funeral had financially drained our already fairly poor family, I didn't get any presents or a party. The only present I got was £10 that my Nan had given my Mum a few weeks earlier to give to me.

My friends didn't visit me or even ring me to wish me "Happy" Birthday, mainly because most of them had taken my twin sister to Brighton for the day to celebrate her Birthday. Instead, I spent the day in bed watching videos.

Sweet sixteen my arse.
(PAMPAMPAM, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 19:10, Reply)

Not sure..
Whether it was a best or a worst birthday. Twas in one of the over-sized Harry Ramsden's food halls. I had, fitting my idiom, polished off a fish considerably larger than my stomach capacity, and then loaded strawberry ice-cream on top of that. It finished me off. Yet, as I ran full-pelt down the hallway, I simply couldn't contain myself. I began to belch up large quantities of fishy-flakied-icy-creamy goo into my cupped hands. Soon they were full. Just as I ran past the children's party entertainer, a man in a full-size Postman Pat outfit, my hands overflew and my vomit-art spattered his trousers, to the rapturous tears and screams of the kids party. But it did not end there, as when I finally reached the toilet, I decided to aim for the sink rather than the bog itself. In five minutes flat, not only had I pasted the length of Harry Ramsden's and Postman Pat with my splooge, but I had also filled an entire basin. My dad felt pangs of guilt and waded arm-deep in viscous bile and fish-cream to unblock the sink, whilst I left feeling a mixture of shame and pride. I believe I was eight or nine at the time.
(PD Jameses, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 19:04, Reply)

I'll always remember my 6th birthday
My mum had rented this hall thing that was just like a shed only bigger with heating. Quite a few kids came, from school and their parents. Anyways there was this guy who did magic tricks/ played the banjo dressed as a dog and I had a chocolate house cake just what I wanted, it was so cool!
Anyways as the party was going strong it started to snow really heavily and we basically got snowed in.
After a load of effort, banjo dog managed to break down the door to get out and, not wanting to damage her shoes, got one of the dad's to carry her to her car. I think i was carried as it was one of the heaviest snowfalls I can remember.
Anyway that evening I sneaked downstairs and ate all the giant marshmallows on the roof of my cake and threw up spectacally the morning after.
Hardly touched the stuff till only a few years ago thanks to that.
It was the best!
( Blobcat Less Jaffacakes this year, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 18:46, Reply)

pie
so since my birth day is always around thanksgiving, i have never had a cake for my big O' B day. i've always had pumpkin pie.
(EvilHippie, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 18:42, Reply)

My Seventh Birthday
I am the youngest of six kids. My Mom took us all up to the local shopping center to pick up my birthday cake and I went into one of the other stores with my Sister to see what toys they had.

My Sister left me in the store and got in the car and they all went home, leaving me behind.

Seven years old and on my own. The most terrifying 10 minutes of my then young life.

Fortunately Mom did a head count and came up short.

I'm better now thanks.
( Citadel Because the world needs less morons, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 18:04, Reply)

My 20th was hilarious, my 30th disasterous
I shared my 20th with a lad of 28, as a result I spent the entire day and night with a group with considerably more drinking ability than myself. My last memory of the day was waking up in a night club in Hereford, totally unaware of who I was.
My 30th nearly resulted in my death. On that night I think I finally learnt to not pick on the local caveman. 2 days later he comatosed someone with a baseball bat.
In April I shall be 33, and fully expect to get myself into some major trouble, preferably abroad. But not at the bottom of a swimming pool......
( the wild elk Freeing excellence affects reality, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 17:28, Reply)

The day of my birth was pretty extreme
I was late and my mum didn't want me induced until after Christmas as it would cause too much hassle.
So Christmas day, with my sister bouncing on her new mini trampoline squishing the cat underneath and all the family over my mum gets twinges when cooking dinner.
Rushed to hospital to find id poohed myself and had cord around my neck so was rushed to another hospital with a load of drunk doctors.
Was born on Boxingday 1984, screwed up that christmas too.
Also weird that my mum found out she was pregnet with me when my grandad died.
( Blobcat Less Jaffacakes this year, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 17:21, Reply)

My birthday is March 17th
Every one has been hooley with lashings of Guinness*, dancing on tables and singing old songs with equally pished new-best-mates from the emerald isle, who always buy me drinks when they find out my birthday is St.Paddies day.

Huzzah!






* Since I was 18 anyway
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 17:14, Reply)

every year
on my birthday night i dress up as a ninja and run along the rooftops of london with silent precision in the hope of meeting other ninjas to fight to the death.

then i nip home, get changed and meet my friends for last orders somewhere in hackney.
(bossypops, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 16:51, Reply)

Going Down
I spent my 18th birthday at my girlfriend's house, curled up on the sofa, snogging.

Unfortunately we decide to turn the TV on just in time to catch the football results, and the news that my beloved team had just been relegated to Division 2.

Right on cue, the door opens and in walks the girlfriend's brother, points at the TV, then at me, and goes 'BAHAHAHAHAHAH! HAHAHAHAHAH!' until he runs out of breath.

Apologies for length, but I bet nobody else has had 11 people go down on them on their 18th birthday.
(><(((">, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 16:27, Reply)

Big Birthday Biff!
Not the best birthday but quite a funny one:

Among my group of friends we have a long running tradition of presenting each other with novelty spliffs as birthday presents. This could be anything from windmills, moustaches, tulips, anything goes really as long as it is amusing.

A few years back for my 22rd birthday my friends managed to construct a large 40cm reefer. They presented this to me alongside a novelty sized Zippo lighter as my birthday present.

I picked up the lighter and the spliff… then, for some inexplicable reason the music from 2001 Space Odyssey begin to play on the TV, we turned up the volume and I dramatically raised the spliff to my mouth, took a drag and exhaled at the precise moment the music reached the end of its cymbal crashing climatic intro.

Unfortunately I had misjudged the music slightly and was forced to hold the drag longer then expected… I collapsed in a fit of coughs as my mates wet themselves laughing!
(Minty Hit, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 16:24, Reply)

Mid life crisis coming?.......maybe?
Had loads of good partys for birthdays but 30th this year ws spent in barcelona off me napper for 4 days straight at the anti-sonar festival. lots of substances, searing heat, playing records over a system to lots of 'out of it' spaniards...........is there anything else?
(Charlie big bananas, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 16:10, Reply)

Bastards
I had come out as a gayboy not long before my 29th birthday (speed-read www.b3ta.com/questions/firstlove/post41742/ for more details), so that's got to be the worst, even if it did build character. My (by then) ex-GF and I had decided to leave off telling the lads, or my straight mates as I was trying to get used to calling them*, for awhile until we got our heads around it ourselves.

A few weeks before my 30th whilst mashed after a club night, I inadvertently came out to one of the lads' housemates and predictably, the motormouthed motherfucker found it impossible to keep it to himself. As a result my mate came to see me a few days later and gently guided the conversation around to me telling him. He, I and the ex-GF decided it was time to clue the rest of the lads up, so I invited them to my new flat for a beer-and-revelation evening. That night is a story in itself.

So, my 30th came and it was basically a 2-week bender (only slight pun intended) of numerous vices, and tremendous fun was had thoughout. What really made it for me, though, was the pressies that the lads turned up with:

One copy of Barry Manilow's Copacabana - The Musical on CD
One copy of Barbara Streisand's What's Up Doc on VHS
and
One stuffed toy of George from Rainbow** that says 'Oooh, you are naughty' when you poke it in the stomach.

They said they looked everywhere for a signed photo of Liberace*** but couldn't find one.

Bastards. Wouldn't swap them for anything, but they're bastards all the same :)

* Gave up in the end - they'll always be The Lads :)
** A ludicrously camp pink hippo from a 70's UK kids TV programme, for you non-brits & weens
*** Oh, just look it up for fuck's sake - run a Google search or something
(thatblokeoverthere not quite as much an arsehole as I thought, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 16:09, Reply)

Nemo Neat
At Nicholas Neat's birthday party I accidentally broke his Captain Nemo doll. Nobody saw so I hid it behind a curtain. When he eventually found it he cried so hard that our parents all had to come and collect us. He's a bank manager now, and apparantly his nickname is still Nemo.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 16:00, Reply)

9 years difference
21st : Only surviving photo is of me at a nightclub. Rather drunk. Surrounded by a troupe of (1st class) strippers.

30th : Married with kids - picked up a dose of the chicken pox from my daughters a few days before. Unable to sleep due to the unbearable itching, I ended up seeing in the dawn reading a Feynman book and marvelling at the neighbourhood's cats dancing on our lawn in the first rays of the sun. Really quite stunning.
(craftej, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 15:50, Reply)

Oh aye, when I were young me and me brothers was all too poor for birthday pressies -
we got to play with sticks in't yard, like, and have a barbecue. 'Cept we couldn't afford matches, firelighters or even the meat, so we just sat there like muppets 'till one of us thought up summat better to do, like wiping dogshit on't rich people's doorknobs, or having a fuck-off massive scrap wi' t'Eyres Road gang, or trying ter hit cars wi' t'fireworks, or....

We was doing this on me 16th, and it were all good clean fun 'till the rozzers come round; little Terry tried to warn us - he shouted "it's the scum! it's the scum!" - but they caught up with him, beat ten kinds of shit out of him and packed him off to that DSS whorehouse. He were only 12! We ran inside, locked 'n bolted the door, then the scum come down like fookin' cheap plaster. They wuz bashing at that door like there's no tomorrow. We pushed half the furniture up against it, but they still got through, waving their rifles like they wuz on parade. We told 'em to fuck off - Mam threw a cast-iron pan at 'em and knocked one bastard clean out! They then got a bit pissed off and started ransacking the place. Most of us hid in the basement, but Dad made a fatal mistake - he had a right old go at 'em... they got him back by shooting him in the head, again and again. They must've done it thirty times at least. After they'd done that, they kicked him around a bit, fucked off to find another house to raid, and left us with nowt but broken furniture, a house full o'holes and a dead Dad. Still, it served the old bastard right - he were always spending our money and getting leathered.

Well, me 16th were total shite, but apart from that they wuz all great times!
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 15:48, Reply)

bombtastic
worst for me: october 12 bali bombing
worst for my friend marie: september 11 that bombing somewhere over the pond
worst for my boyfriend: march 11 madrid bombing
worst for an old shag dylan and an old school buddy melinda: july 7 london bombing

there's a pattern starting to emerge here.....

best: 28th this year was a veritable festival of birthday celebrations.....two months later i'm still collecting presents and celebrating with wayward friends that i haven't seen for ages....get in!

EDIT: not birthday but my dad died 2 days before xmas last year....the big J's birthday will never be the same again. *sniff* in fact i've had so many shit christmases i'm giving up on it. totally fucked. can't even begin to imagine the horrors awaiting me this year
(firesnake, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 15:43, Reply)

My best birthday was this year... it got me a divorce.
My wife had problems, she'd get pissed and embrass herself by being very drunk. It was my birthday and I chose to go out with some friends and people from work, then I was supposed to phone her later and she and her brother would come out and meet me for drinks. I didn't bother as I didn't want my birthday spoiled by her drunken antics, so I stayed out with my mates, who dragged me along to see an all girl band who used an angle grinder as part of their performance called 'Kunt' (who were very good). I stayed at my mate's house. The wife avoided me and didn't speak to me for a week, and when she did she said she wanted a divorce. I was over the fucking moon, I'd was free of the overbearing, drunken, possessive cow. I was so happy. I'd never been able to bring myself to ask for one... even when I'd found out a month before she'd been cheating on me. I am now one of the happiest people alive.
( Bluesound, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 15:18, Reply)

I'm never really in the mood to celebrate it anymore.
My dad died the day after my 21st.

He truly was like a friend and I miss him terribly. I stopped acknowledging my birthday all together for a few years after that. But some gentle coaxing by my mother and loving partner mean I can now have a relatively good time whilst remembering him.

He'd made it out for a night of drinking with me and my mates the day before but had been to ill to come out for a meal on the day. The day after he took a turn for the worst.

The thing is. The night before, when he was out with us, is probably my favourite birthday memory. The night after is obviously the worst.

Sorry to bring everyone down.
( Evil Bastardo, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 15:11, Reply)

18th beating
The day I turned 18 my work colleagues thought it would be a good idea to get me a stripper.

She turned out to be a crazy dominatrix that stripped me, beat the crap out of me with a whip and then made me squeal like a pig.

My colleagues were intially shocked, but then found it quite amusing, particularly the females that had front row seats of my abuse. Bastards took photographs and even tried to film it.

Thankfully they were too cheap to pay the extra £40 that would have got her friend in on the action too (an old, fat ginger short-haired beast with no teeth dressed as a cave woman).

The next day I had an awards presentation and while on stage Steve Jones (from t4) patted my back while congratulating me...right across my welts.

Other than that it was a great birthday.
( Regger, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:58, Reply)

My 21st Rocked
My 21st, the summer after the end of uni. Decided to have a BBQ at my parents house to celebrate my coming of age. Now my parents are pretty good and can enjoy a beer like the rest of us young 'uns. Had mates from everywhere come, secondry school, primary school, uni, work, was an awesome party. My parents even got fireworks and everything. The best bit of the party was when one of my mates made my mums funnel into a beer bong, to drink (the extremely lethal) punch through. Now imagine my 50 year old father on his back drinking punch though a beer bong, what a legend. Most things after that were a bit of a blank, but was awesome.

My 22nd was awesome as well organising a bbq at my new house where my housemates bought me some old man pyjamas. I decided to wear them for the party which my newish gf wasnt too impressed by. Will post pic when I find it, but its so good.

Bad birthday.... nothing like the good ones :)

Rob
(Robble, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:52, Reply)

my 10th birthday
My 10th birthday is perhaps one that I remember the most vividly. Mum was keen to make things as bright and as happy as she could as dad had left us a couple of years before and my birthdays up to then had been relatively quiet affairs.

So she whipped up a storm, barbeque pool party and organised lots of games and lots of people came and I was enjoying myself immensely until it came to the games. My snooty cousin who was perhaps a year or so younger than I was won Simon Says and opened the present on the spot and said: Pooh, its just chocolates, its so lame.

So I was already feeling the blood creep into my cheeks and so the adults gathered us around my birthday cake and the song was sung et al until I was supposed to blow out the candles. Said cousin being short had stood on a chair and leaned forward to admire my lovely cake in the shape of the numbers 1 and 0 and singed his hair on the candles. by this point just as I as about to blow out my candles he screamed as his hair was burnig, lost balance off the chair and fell into my cake.

I was pretty upset by now and the rest of the party went by quite quietly (for me anyway)

And to add insult to injury, the photos came out a week later and for the big roup photo there I was in the middle smiling away with my willy poking out of my junior speedos.

Now every birthday I drink myself into a stupor and go to bed...

(yay! my first post)
(Marmoset Bored bored bored of cnuting revision..., Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:52, Reply)

A friends
I also quite liked one of my friends birthdays, which is on christmas day. my band had played a gig on christmas eve so we ended out in the middle of town, when he was id'ed trying to get into a club and being 17 at the time didnt get in, so we went away for a while, waited until he was 18, then went back with a now useful id

how the hell we got in i still dont know, out of the three of us he was the only person who was actually 18 then, the other two of us were both still 17, yet we all got in...

David
(442, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:52, Reply)

My 18th
I thought my 18th birthday was excellent

my mum decided it was a good reason to get all the family round for a barbeque, fair enough. problem being i was working that day, so i dissappear off to work, hey have a nice barbeque in the sun and do all the barbequey things, i come home later on and get the remnants of the barbeque microwaved for me and get to say hello to all my relatives...

surprisingly for an 18th, there was no drinking, as i dont drink and really dont find going into town all night particularly fun

David
(442, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:44, Reply)

oh dear...
This'll probably identify me far too easily, but here goes anyway apologies in advance for length....

My 21st was held in the pub I worked at at the time. Fantastic atmosphere, loads of mates, loads of booze none of which I paid for. I had a constantly full half pint glass of single malt in front of me all the time.
Was getting more and more pissed sat at a table with my parents and a few friends, when suddenly my parents disappeared. Bit odd I think, but carry on drinking none the less. Seconds later, the door to the function room opens to the sound of some dodgy 70s porn music (you know the sort) and a builder-type guy with a yellow hard hat and ripped jeans walked in. My parents and friends had only got me a bloody stripper (and yes - I am a gayboy, and no, the pub wasn't a gay pub) My parents had obviously left the room cos they didn't want to witness their firstborn covered in baby oil feeling up a blokes cock under a very small towel whilst wearing a hard hat and a look of pissed satisfaction.
Anyway, fun was had by all and I even managed to have a nice chat with the stripper's fiancee afterwards (he wasn't even a real gayboy - bloody typical!)
At some point towards the end of the evening, my brain had obviously shut down, and the next thing I remember is waking up the following morning - god knows how I'd managed the mile and a half walk home. I opened my eyes and reached for my glasses to try to see what sort of state I was in. Could I find them? Could I fuck. At some point during the walk home I'd lost my specs. Had to phone the police to report the loss to get a number so I could claim off the insurance to get a new pair:

WPC: So, when did you lose your glasses?
Me: Erm... sometime between midnight and 3am last night
WPC: OK, where did you lose them?
Me: Erm... somewhere between 'The Pub' and home
WPC: OK, [stifling a giggle], what sort of case were they in?
Me: Erm... they weren't in a case.
WPC: Oh, so you just had them loose in your pocket?
Me: Erm... no. I was wearing them.
WPC: [laughs out loud]
Me: Sigh.

What followed was a trip to Specsavers with my mum to get a new pair within the hour. Seriously, I must have melted the bloody eye-testing machine with my whiskey breath. And I was still as pissed as a fart.
Oh well - embarassment over, I think.
Wrong.
Later that day I get a call from the pub saying they're very sorry but I need to come in to work - there's been some sort of problem and they need my help, and won't take no for an answer.
I walk into the pub and immediately get herded into the function room where I was the night before. Facing me is a 6ft x 3ft photo on photoboard of me in a black shirt, covered in baby oil (which looks remarkably like cum in the photo) with my hands locked on the contents of what was inside the strippers towel. Looking like a right state.
Whole pub applauds, and I have to phone my mum to give me a lift home with the photo almost strapped to the back of the car, visible to everyone driving behind us.
I kept that photo for about a year until I was brave enough to take it to the tip. Again, in the back of mum's car.

Good grief - it's a wonder I don't need therapy after that one!
(coderboi, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:41, Reply)

oh.......
for my 18th, I did my own disco at the party, that was so at least I was sure of getting music I liked... picture if you will, after a few hours, a Citronic dual deck with 4 pints on each turntable slowly going at 33rpm (at 45rpm they might have fallen off) after 11.30 or so (when the pubs closed back then) we went back to our house for chips and burgers from the local chippy.. best feed ever!

21st I was working in our local club, and I don't remember how I got home but I am told a police car was involved, same for my 30th (except I walked home) & my 40th I spent in bed sick :-(

boring or what....
( TBL I posted this on, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:34, Reply)

Oh My 30'th
went out at lunch time, having spent much of the morning adjusting my mental state, and proceeded to be given A vodka for every year I was old. several of which turned out to be doubles, and on top of that a mate of mine with a half bottle kept topping my glass up. at about 8 my Gf turned up with a pair of tickets to go and see a comedian in the hall next door. however my legs weren't quite up to activity, so I sent her on ahead with the promise that I'd be there in a couple of minutes.

When I reached the door, it turned out that the security knew it was my birthday and so just showed me through to the hall without me actually having to find my ticket or anything. i staggered into the hall and found the nearest seat, then (And from this point i must admit it's a bit of a blank so I'm working from other peoples descriptions) Apparently I heckled the shit out of the comedian and would not be shut up by anyone.

At the Interval I decided that it would be a much better idea to be active than sit there so on a bet with the security I apparently went over and stuck my tongue down the throat of the rugby team captain, however security prevented me getting injured.

when the second half commenced, i got back to my heckling. the only clear part in the evening is my girlfriend half carrying the drunken mess that i was across the bridge towards her place.

the next morning i woke up with relatively little hangover but my right knee felt like i'd been hitting it with a mallet. , I started questioning her about where i'd fallen over last night. She replied that I hadn't and that I'd done it trying to climb onto her. Somehow I'd belted my knee against the radiator next to her bed. and somehow I'd managed this feat twice. she hadn't stopped me because she was amazed that I could actually get it up considering the ammount of alcohol there was in my bloodstream.
(ceebs, Fri 9 Dec 2005, 14:33, Reply)