The sniffles are allergies, I swear.

I am trying to think of a nice way to say that I am feeling both content and let down at the same time.
Friday was my birthday party. Or it was supposed to be. I invited..twelve people, and most of those closest to me (or at least, I thought some of them were...) said they weren't coming. Some had to work, one was going to prom, one said she was planning on sleeping (...) and I guess one or two were busy getting drunk and acting like their usual misguided selves. My absolute closest friends were the only ones that said they were going to be there: Brandon, my bestie Kelli, and Ruthie, whom I've been friends with pretty much since the first day I started Whitefield.
So just to humor myself I went ahead and decorated the kitchen, which was kind of pointless since there would only be four of us. I went ahead and made most of the food that I had planned on making for the original party, since I'd already bought the ingredients anyway. Kelli got there a little after four thirty, and brought me a gigantic present, which was exciting and mysterious. Inside this enormous box was a TAPS duffel bag (yay! ^_^) filled with both inane representations of several private jokes we share as well as tokens to aid in our crusade against babykilling, a Precious Feet pin and matching necklace. Ruthie got there about six thirty and brought me a Starbucks gift card, which makes me happy as I have coffee lust. But about ten minutes after Ruthie got there Kelli said she had to leave because she didn't feel well. This threw me for quite a loop as I am used to spending my Friday evenings with her, watching The Soup and laughing like loons. Less than an hour and a half later, the movie we were watching ended, and Ruthie went home.
Quite a far cry from the party I was envisioning for weeks before all this happened. Though like I said, I was very happy that the most important people were there, I was still a little sad. And then I got very sad because of other generally happy things that happened earlier that day that were flawed. Like I spent a sizable chunk of my tax refund at the spa that morning trying to make myself feel good, I messed up one of my nails from my manicure and the girl who does my hair apparently didn't listen to the fact that I said I just wanted my roots dyed as I was very happy with the reddish brown color it was, as she decided to change the color completely. Now I am back to dark brown, almost black hair. Not only do I not want almost black hair anymore, she didn't even get all of the blond that had grown in in the two months since I was there last time. Very disappointing, considering I could have done it myself at home and gotten the same dissatisfying results for about seven dollars.
Mom and Dad went ahead and gave me my presents to help cheer me up, so I guess I am pretending that my birthday is May 9th rather than May 11th. Because it's all basically over now. Oh well. Maybe I will try not to have such high expectations next year. Remind me not to bother trying to get back in touch with my friends, though, since they won't come over anyway.