Interesting
things happen in your twenties. For one, birthdays seem to get closer
together, and two, a keg and a bag of Dorritos are no longer acceptable
birthday party fare. Friends schedule "birthday dinners" at restauraunts they wouldn't otherwise pay to eat at, and we, as members
of the close circle, must attend, let the birthday boy or girl order
whatever his or her celebratory heart desires, and split the bill
evenly—minus one. We do it, dutifully. Some of us hope our friends will
do it in return. But as one writer points out, this is a pretty shitty
system.
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