Penny S. Cilpen's Birthday Is One For The Books

A wise man once said, if life poops on you, make manure. Well, I’d like to make a manure-sand castle and have him sit in it for 24 hours. It’d be "Manure Day."

Like my birthday.

I’m all grown up! I’m turning 18, and I know everything. That’s what people tell me, they say, “You think you know everything.” I say, “I think, therefore I am.” Then they change the subject.

Really, my birthday was the absolute worst. But I’m sure someone could top it. Someone being tortured with a blended drink of hot dogs and horseradish. It feels that it is only me that continuously has to learn a “valuable lesson.” So I created a PSA for you. This episode is called “One For The Books.”

If you guys didn’t know, I took that job that I got after the whole film-editing fiasco. And I learned how to film edit. So now I’m mediocre! Yay. I can film edit to get me by, and I took a paid position with Magamen Music as a teen-pop editor. This is the thing, though. I am still going to go to college in the fall—classes at night here-I-come.

My mom was very scared for me, but she thought it would be an opportunity of a lifetime. When I got the family together and started singing Nelly Furtado’s “I’m Like a Bird,” my mother objected and prayed for me (to stop singing [the song maybe wasn’t the best song choice, but I had a different meaning and…whatever]). She caved, so to speak. My dad wants me to do something steady, but he knows I’m smart and I’ll figure it out, just as long as I save my money, or don’t do anything stupid (crosses fingers).

My friends are growing up too. Gouda is graduating college this year, Ally is about to go to grad school, and Jake is creating his first full-length feature film to be entered into a film festival. IT beats his films about aliens in which he used paper airplanes to attack ET dolls and had a globe explode into a million pieces. 13 was the age of exploration. He came up with that himself.

This year had a bunch of blessings in disguise, and it was overall a success. So I wanted to celebrate. Sadly, I cant partake in the drinking of fruit punch, where everyone slurs their words and bumps into each other, and ends up somewhere that they didn’t know how they got there. I wanted a bash. Maybe Justin Timberlake would come. I can touch Justin’s hair. I don't think Britney would mind.

I called Jake to interrogate (ahem), or ask him what his plans may be on or around that day.

RING

“Yo.”

“Yo.”

“Who is this?”

“Your daddy.”

“Oh hi Penny. Hi Penny. You’re voice sounds lower.”

“I took testosterone this morning. And when I beat you in arm wrestling, don’t say anything. I am calling to talk to you about something important.”

“Shoot.”
“What are you doing at the end of the month?”

“I’m going to hand this video in for final editing, and then were gonna submit it to the film festival, and then fly to NY. You?”

“I’m celebrating a milestone!”

“Ok. Milestones. Hm. Funeral. Baby. Marriage. Wait….”

“It’s yours.”

“Nah, it can’t be. Wait…”
“Yeah yeah. July 21?”

“Hmmm. July 21. Oh it’s your birthday. Happy Birthday!”
“You’re that busy that this is no longer an event.”

“No I didn’t say that, it just took me a second to figure it out. And you didn’t hint at it you hinted around it.”

“UGH JAKE WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH YOU….”

“I’m a lost cause. So it’s your birthday and…”
“So what are your plans for my birthday?”

“Uh oh. That’s a trap. I’m not answering that. Here’s a question. What do you want to do for your birthday”?

“I want to be surprised.”

“Ok but you are going to have to take into consideration that the surprise is your idea.”

“UGH. Ok so here’s the thing. It’s been a great year, a great year for all of us right? I want to celebrate. All our friends. A DJ. A cake. That’s it.”

“And you want to be kidnapped at your home, taken to a secret place where you change and primp, and be driven blindfolded in a car to you get to your destination. You want to be walked up to the door of the bash, and you want to take your blindfold off, and everyone you love is saying “Surprise!” like really loud. And then you start crying hysterically and then you turn to me … cut to camera left and say “Jake, you’re the best. I want to have your babies!” And you turn to the right and hug your parents, accept your award and thank God, and then….

“Sheesh fade to black! Fade to black ok? I’m not being that dramatic. I just feel as though it’s asinine to ask you to plan something.”

“Then don’t.”

“But then what are you going to do?”

“Every year we got you. You want something extra though I sense. I don’t know. I gotta go I’ll talk to you.”

It’s the week before my birthday. Then I get a call from Gouda.

"Hello?"

“HELLO PENNY—THIS IS GOUDA, and this will be a two minute conversation.”

“Excuse Me Gouda, what the hell are you actually doing with your life that you have to time phone calls?”

“I’m a busy man, Penny.”

“What do you need? I’ll let you be, because you gotta get back to your video games.”

“Hardy har. You’re birthday is coming up, right?”

“Right.”

“We’re taking you out.”
“Okay.”

“Be ready Saturday at 6. Okay gotta go…”
“WAIT GOUDA!!!!!”
“What?”
“You can’t be serious with that. Where am I going?”
“Leave that to the experts. Meetings, meetings, meetings; Penny, will they ever end? I gotta go. You know Penny, I never talk to you anymore since you took that job. Inkling in my tummy says you’re too good for me. 98 degrees messed with your head I take? Hugs from Avril better than my big strong arm hugs, probably because it wouldn’t be a hug, she’d give you a headlock instead.”
“Ok douche it’s been two minutes! Talk to you later Gouda.”

“You should call me more often!” Click.

Then Ally calls:

“Hey Penny, It’s Ally.”

“I know it’s you, Ally.”
“Sup. It’s been like forever!”
“Like two weeks, Ally.”

“We should hang out!”
“Okay Ally, what’s up?”
“Well, your coming of age is coming up, and we’re planning a lil' sumthin sumthin. There’s just something we need a little more info from you on.”

“Okay go.”

“We don’t know what type of cake you want.”

“Oh. Well, Ally, here’s a story. I’ve probably told Jake what type of cake I like 5 times, so he should know. Last time I told him was when we went to a wedding and he had like rum cake and he hated it, and I said I don’t like rum cake, I like this cake instead.”

“And what cake is that?”
“I don’t know Ally, guess.”

“Penny, I get it, you want a 100% surprise. But no one knows what type of cake you want, and Jake has amnesia. It’s long-term amnesia. If you turn his head to the side it looks like he’s balding, too. He’s old. He’s decrepit and he does not remember what cake you want.”

“Ok Ally, I don’t mean to be rude, but if he was listening, he would have got it. I don’t get why I would have to ask you guys to plan something, you should just be planning it on account of you loving me, like, as a human being, you know? I don’t need the constant check in. If it’s a surprise, it’s a surprise. Like seriously, my name is Penny, if you forgot that already, and you guys should know what I like on account of being my friend for forever. OK?”

“Let me tell you something Penny—we’re gonna get you any flavor cake we so choose, and even if it tastes like utter, utter crap, you are going to eat it. Happily. OK? Be ready on Saturday at 6. Goodbye.”

UGH.

Does no one understand the element of surprise? I was confused about why I had to request the way I wanted to be treated on my birthday. That my friends wouldn’t just take it upon themselves to plan me an 18^th birthday I wouldn’t forget. I wondered, did they care about me, or were we just moving apart? Growing up, doing the things that grown ups do. Were we just teen friends or were we in it for the long haul? Surface or real? What type of friends do I have, anyway? And why do I need to repeat what cake I want five times? What is up with men and their hearing? Do you guys even know me at all?

So my friends took me out to dinner and they had a cake for me the last Saturday that July. I mean, they put on good faces, but I can tell they were, hmmm. Not like they didn’t want to be there, but that they felt as though they were being forced to be there. I know this because they were having three person conversations without me, and then I had to edge my way to get two words in. When I got home that night, I held my present in my hand to my heart, and looked at pictures of us throughout my teenage years. My life was about to change, and those years, were about to change with it. More over, I wanted to party like, like, like Animal House without the fruit punch. I wondered why they didn’t throw me that type of party. And so I sought to plan one out myself. As I went to sleep, I was on a mission to actually get the type of party I envisioned in my head.

Update: Tune in next week, 11:59 Eastern, Saturday, February 1, for the next part of "Penny S. Cilpen's Birthday is One For The Books."--GB 

Read Part II of "Penny S. Cilpen's Birthday is One For The Books."

Read Part III of "Penny S. Cilpen's Birthday is One For The Books."