For Pete’s sake, Lou. Get it together. 33 isn’t even a big year. I’d be hesitant to attend a 33rd birthday party, let alone a HALF-birthday party. My niece is seven, and half-birthday parties are barely acceptable for her. And she’s a goddamn princess. Are you a princess, Lou? Do you wear rompers from the “Cute Lil’ Cupcake” line of clothing?
Well, then, think twice before sending an invitation to your half-birthday party.
Really, the invitation is the first red flag. We’re friends on Facebook. Send me a Facebook invitation. Send me an email, if you must. But by all means, do not send me a hand-written invitation on what appears to be very expensive stationary. The custom embellishments are nice, but probably much more suited for a wedding, not a half-birthday for a 33-year-old. This is some seriously high-grade cardstock. You could slice a sandwich with these invitations. They are completely inappropriate for your occasion, which, I’ll repeat, is not an occasion in which any sort of invitation would be appropriate, at all.
You wear sensible slacks and carry a briefcase. What were you thinking, Lou?
You are a grownup man.
“A Rollercoaster of an Adventure?” That’s simply not clever. It’s not a turn of phrase.
I understand that it’s because you’re inviting me to Six Flags, but jeez, Lou. Workshop your event name next time. Or don’t. Honestly, a half-birthday doesn’t even warrant an event name. I just want to make it clear that this holds doubly true if you are a 33-year-old man. You’re a certified public accountant. You wear sensible slacks and carry a briefcase. What were you thinking, Lou?
That’s not a rhetorical question. Please, take me through a step-by-step breakdown of what was going through your head when you decided to invite a group of your coworkers to Six Flags via a handwritten invitation labeled “A Rollercoaster of an Adventure,” which, again, is not clever, because describing an adventure as a rollercoaster is redundant as heck.
The post-script text is perhaps the most disheartening part of this whole abysmal affair:
“P.S. if you don’t buy a fast pass, we’ll be leaving you in the dust!”
So you’re telling me, that if I humor you in this man-child fantasy celebration, I have to shill out for a fast pass? I looked it up, and not only is it way too expensive, but it’s not even called a “fast pass.” Because of Six Flags’ DC Comics branding, what you’re referring to is actually named the “Flash Pass.”
Lou, as a friend, I really have to ask you what in the hell you were thinking. These things are tiered in three different price groups. Which one are you getting? This is why you shouldn’t choose to reveal pertinent information in some cheeky little post-script message.
Even after I’ve outlined all of the above for you Lou, I have to admit that my single biggest grievance with this whole thing is that you are 33, and this invitation reads that it is your “33rd Half-Birthday Party.” Lou, you are a man of neither social tact nor mathematical skill. If you are 33-years-old, you have had twice as many half-birthdays, you buffoon.
Again, I say this as a friend, really. I truly am only saying all of this for your benefit. Do not mince words, this was an ill-conceived idea, and you should be embarrassed beyond reproach, but I am still your friend. I’m just significantly less your friend than I was yesterday. You’ve gone down like 18 spots on my friend rankings.
Please don’t ever try this again.