The thing about having a birthday in the end of August is that usually, no one is around to celebrate it with you. [Of course, I suppose one could argue that it's not as bad as having a Christmastime birthday and being a constant recipient of the old standby, the combined gift.] When I was growing up, my friends were usually away during my birthday week, and sometimes my family went away during that week also. So I only ever had big birthday celebrations when someone else planned them for me, which happened once as a child, once when Owen threw me a surprise party, and once in college when we celebrated after the fact.

I never thought birthdays were really that big a deal, except for the fact that you can use them to say, "Be nice to me, it's my birthday!" I especially resent the birthdays that are supposed to be "significant" — but that might be because I spent my 16th birthday in a secluded cabin in Maine watching Toy Story with my parents and 8-year-old brother. The highlight of my day was scoring enough quarters to tearfully call my boyfriend from a beach payphone. And my 18th birthday was spent on a slow-moving train from Maryland to Connecticut, in the company of two young children who did not seem to tire of chanting "Ch ch ch ch choo choo!"

One significant birthday — my 21st — seemed like it was going to be horriffic but ended up being awesome. It was on a Wednesday, and Liz had come up to spend the day with me in Port Chester. She took me to the mall and bought me a lipstick at Stila, which cost $17. I don't think I had owned anything better than Wet n' Wild at that point. I had to work in the afternoon and when I returned, I found that Liz had made me three belts. We planned on going out to this tapas place in Greenwich, which was pretty hip and happening for the area. We spent forever getting ready, only to drive to Greenwich and find that restaurant was closed. Liz wanted cigarettes and I decided to go buy them in a bar, using my real i.d. for the first time. I pointed out my birthday to the bouncer and he just sort of grunted rudely at me. We ended up in some lonely cafe with a terrible croony lounge singer. Liz had brought candles shaped like a 2 and a 1 and she stuck them in my bean dip for me to blow out. I think at this point we both thought my birthday was going to be the lamest 21st ever. Then we went to a club that my roommates were promoting and all of a sudden there were tons of people buying me drinks and I'd had too many whiskey sours and a whole bunch of us were dancing to wonderful terrible music like Nelly. Somewhere around 2 a.m., my super hot roommate Rey and Liz and I decided it would be a good idea to sneak into Rye Beach which involved a lot of climbing and squeezing and manuevering. Once there, they both gave me extended massages. The three of us ended up passing out, around sunrise, on my living room floor — but only after digging into a chocolate cake that Liz had brought, sans utensils. The next say, we all woke up craving huevos rancheros, but it was too late to find a restaurant that was still serving them. We went to El Tio anyway, and Rey, who was a total fast talker, made up this elaborate story about how Liz was from Paris and it was my birthday and all we wanted in the world were some huevos rancheros, and it worked. Rey bought me some cupcakes and had the waitstaff light them and everyone sang Happy Birthday to me. At the same time, someone stole my bag from my car, which contained, among other things, the $17 lipstick. With the theft and all, I never thought another birthday would compare to that one. But I had a pretty fabulous one again the next year with my roommates Kristy and Cari and my friends Sara and Marissa. We spent it having a picnic at Rye Playland (with delicious food and plenty of wine) and Cari's brother, who worked there, treated us to a free boat ride. Cyndi Lauper was performing and we danced around happily. Someone won me a CareBear with a rainbow on it and when we came home, A. joined us for some delicious strawberry shortcake cupcakes.

Tomorrow I am turning another age that people think is significant - 25. Since it's a Monday, I will go to work and then go to a really nice dinner with A. Then I will see Little Miss Sunshine again, because I liked it just that much. I won't do anything crazy and I won't be around of people and I won't drink alcohol. But I'm really looking forward to it — at the very least, it will be a great Monday. I have mixed feelings about being 25, but since I have no choice in the matter, I am going into it smiling. I hope it's a great year.