Go see whatever movie is playing at the Angelika that morning. Ooh! The Deep Blue Sea! Rachel Weisz! Set in the 1930′s! Costumes! Oh. Umm, it appears it’s a movie about a woman who tries to commit suicide when her boyfriend forgets her birthday.
Though maybe that would make me feel like I was winning?
Hire a gigolo. Seems like it works out swell for Debra Messing and real people, too.
Try to start a dance party on the train? No. People don’t do that. Also, I don’t like newfangled dancing, and no one can do a mazurka for shit these days.
Make people feel badly about themselves.
Have dinner at my favorite restaurant in Annapolis? I’m normally great at doing social stuff alone, but having dinner by myself on my birthday just feels really pathetic. But it would be more pathetic not to eat deep fried cheesecake, right?
OH SHIT THAT RESTAURANT IS CLOSED. Okay. I could have dinner by myself at a different restaurant. FUCK EVERYTHING. FUCK PEOPLE.
Alternatively, I could buy like 5 cupcakes and a bottle of champagne and eat them in my hotel room?
Listen to Edith Piaf and weep convulsively.
Borrow someone else’s family. Steal them off the street, lock them in my hotel room. Bake for them and force them to make chit-chat about how they are proud of me.
Interestingly, this is also what I’d do if the world was going to end in 24 hours, especially the family stealing, and I’m pretty sure my ideas are not good enough. HELP PLEASE I AM GETTING OLD SOON.