Your pretty face is going to hell

I was leaning over a candle today and burnt my hair. This reminds me of a time when I first moved to New York. The story goes a such. The unnamed person I was living with insisted and threatened me into having a birthday party at her apartment. She won't take no for an answer. I really didn't want to but gave in. But I only invited 2 people as a minor act of rebellion. Take that! So here's how the night went. Phone call at work, 'Hey I'm running late can you run over to the other side of town, it's only 4 train transfers to pick up your birthday cake'. After paying $80 for said birthday cake. I make my way back to her house I receive another call. 'I'm still running behind, can you clean up the apartment.' After picking up dog shit of three dogs and several pairs of panties in various states of crust off of the floor I received another call. 'Hey can you defrost the steaks?'. At this point I'm like hey my loyal cadre of followers, all two of them, will be arriving any minute maybe we can relocate this to like a burger joint. I don't want this to be too much work for you, and by 'you' I meant me. Reaming out commences. Apparently I'm ungrateful lout who is spitting in the face of someone who spent a lot of money on me for my special night. Guests arrive. Awkwardness and horror. Hostess finally arrives, proceeds to get drunk, tells me that she unfortunately made the entire meal with pork and since I don't eat pork she handed me a $10 to go run down to the store and by myself something nice to eat. How nice. While lighting the $80 cake I paid for our esteemed hostess's hair catches on fire. Yeah so when my hair burned today I was like oh...am I becoming eccentric too. Food for thought.