My birthday last year was amazing. I got The Band to play, we had an epic snowball battle with fake snowballs, my neighbor made tattoos of my face…

I thought, why not repeat that again this year? If it ain’t broke, you know?

So, months in advance, I was happy to secure the band and the venue. This year was going to be even better because the band’s guitarist was graciously letting me be Birthdayzilla by requesting that certain songs make the set list, while others not so much. (“Stacy’s Mom” does not have it going on in my book.)

I also bought two of these:

Also, since I blew it last year and didn’t take advantage of my pull with the band by requesting “Smells Like Teen Spirit” for Neighbor and me to dance on a table to, I made certain it would make the cut this year. “Not a problem,” Guitarist had said with a smile.

All was looking golden, and I couldn’t be more excited.

Then this…

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