This year, hundreds of thousands of millions of women will turn twenty-five. It’s a fatal milestone because everyone knows that “twenty-five” sounds like “eighty-five” and we’re stuck somewhere between twenty and thirty. We’ve suddenly blossomed into the women we never expected to be at this age: very confused and co-dependant. At twenty-five, we’re all expected to have higher power purpose and behave like we’re better than our mediocre peers like Azealia Banks, Emma Watson and Jennifer Lawrence – no pressure! Meanwhile, the only thing we’ve truly accomplished in twenty-five years of life is the discovery of Nutella, diva cups and how to pencil in flawless eyebrows.

Given the crushing momentum of twenty-five, you can surely understand why poisoning ourselves with Nutella-covered mushrooms for Charlotte’s 25th birthday was the most veritable idea we’ve had since re-watching all four seasons of The O.C.

This is what happened.

THE BEST IDEA WE’VE COLLECTIVELY EVER HAD, LIKE EVER

Charlotte: Time is fucked, I was literally 22 two seconds ago.

Sarah: Yeah. I still remember turning 12.

Vivian: It’s your birthday. This needs to be special, not just brunch.

Fraq: A full-day event.

Jane: How about Sunday? Nothing happens on Sunday.

Charlotte: I’m not spending any money on this either.

Jane: As if any of us had any money to spend…

Sarah: Says the NOT-unemployed girl.

Vivian: Wait. I think I’ve got some mushrooms?

Sarah: I don’t know. I heard they taste like shit.

Jane: Hmmm. Yeah. But like, maybe?

Charlotte: I’ve got Nutella.

Fraq: Down.

Jane: MMMMM. Nutella.

Charlotte: I fucking love Nutella.

Sarah: What did everyone put on their bagels before Nutella? I don’t remember.

Jane: Probably peanut butter.

Vivian: It’s settled then. 10:30AM @ our house. Bring sweatpants.

And that’s when it was decided that the five of us would celebrate the quarter of a century with a family-size jar of Nutella and a bag of mushrooms from somebody else’s camping trip.

CHARLOTTE SETS THE VIBE WITH 15 HOUSE PLANTS

Time: 10:20 AM

Turning twenty-five, it’s safe to say that we’re all dealing with some sort of secret addiction. Shitty ex-boyfriends we can’t live without, weed, brunch, Netflix and smoking to name a few. Charlotte’s addicted to buying new house plants. She isn’t aware that this is a problem, and none of us have the heart to tell her she has an addiction because everybody loves houseplants, but Charlotte has 15 houseplants. And that’s a problem.

Anyways. Because Korea Town isn’t much of a forest and we really wanted to marvel at beautiful green things, we set the vibe of the living room with Charlotte’s growing collection of houseplants. One by one, Charlotte surrounded the couches with succulents, Aloe, mother in law’s tongue and Ivy. Vivian grabbed her salt lamp (that she licks every night) for good luck with three baby crystals that radiate positive vibes. Surrounded by plants, a salt rock lamp, tiny crystals, a record player and a jar of Nutella, we sat in a ceremonial circle of trust.

FIVE HUNGRY WOMEN EAT BAGELS WITH FANCY CREAM CHEESE

Time: 11:10 AM

You know what I’m talking about: the fancy cream cheese at Whole Foods. My pals and I only eat this on special occasions and Charlotte’s birthday was an excellent excuse to buy a $30 tub of it. Jane, our trusted food expert, brought wood-fired Montreal bagels in a sorority tote bag. Together, we devoured bagels while chatting about people who lick their salt rocks before bedtime (A.K.A. Vivian). I guess that’s a thing people do and it’s totally normal. Don’t judge her.

EW! EW! EW!

Time: 11:50 AM

“Just put it in your mouth and chew it until it turns into a paste,” Vivian instructed. I had never eaten magic mushrooms before and I was a little nervous. But I trusted these women with my life and I loved them, so I did as I was told and stuffed the dried handful of mushrooms into my mouth like a handful of M&Ms. In sequence, being the dramatic women we love to be, we laughed in repeated howls of Mean Girl voices – EW! UGH! EW! EW! GROSS! UGH! EW! UGH! – while munching on dried dangly pieces of mushrooms tops and stems. Jane handed me a spoonful of Nutella, now inter-changing between yelps of “EW!” and “YUM!”.

LET’S SET INTENTIONS. BUT LIKE, NOT.

Time: 12:20 PM

You know when everybody is talking, and you say something out loud, but nobody hears you because everyone is talking? Yeah. That’s what happened when it came to making our intentions. Like any female bonding experience, I wanted to set intentions with my most-trusted group of women, because I knew that the girls in The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants would do this, so we should too. But then we started talking about salt rocks and “good vibes” and how tasty Nutella is just by itself. And how you really don’t need to eat Nutella with anything, literally just a spoon. Then we all got distracted and totally forgot to make intentions because we were too busy talking about Nutella and which plants would dance/perform when we were high on mushrooms. “That one!”, “No, that one!”, “What about this one?”. We digressed, as we always do.

At some point, if we hadn’t been so distracted by Nutella, I would have made the following intention: “I want to come out of this trip knowing that I’m already the person I want to be at this moment. Even if I’m uncertain most of the time.” There, I said it.

DROP CROTCH SWEAT PANTS

Time: 12:50 PM

I didn’t want to be the first woman to say: “OMG! I THINK I FEEL IT!”. Because nobody wants to be the first woman to admit that she has no control over her body and might be losing grip on reality. Not chill. So I kept it to myself and maintained inner dialogue to make note of everything that was happening around me.

  • Colours are pulsating, omg.
  • The Christmas lights look really nice right now. I should buy some lights for my bedroom. They’re like $15, right?
  • I need to change out of these pants immediately. Ugh.
  • Charlotte, can I borrow some sweat pants?
  • OMG, I fucking love the feeling of sweat pants!
  • Charlotte doesn’t have sweat pants. I guess I’ll wear these weird MUJI capris that she hides under her bed. Why did she buy these? Are these drop crotch?
  • Stop thinking about the drop crotch. Nobody cares about your drop crotch Sarah. Sweatpants are sweatpants. Capris are so 2006.
  • Is that a ringtone or is that a record playing? I dunno.
  • MMMMM. Nutella.

VIVIAN PUKES

Time: 1:30 PM

A nauseous wave hit everyone in a matter of minutes. After a night of drinking, Vivian wasn’t feeling so hot. Cradling her stomach, we wandered outside to get some fresh air on the deck. With handfuls of blankets, tea cups and plants (Charlotte brought them out obviously), we settled outside to stare at fluttering trees and blue skies in the distance. Vivian disappeared to the washroom. Charlotte, Jane, Fraq and I focused into the table that shifted between blue, green and pink. What could have been five minutes, might have been twenty or an hour. Time didn’t exist anymore. Vivian returned with a weary smile, “I puked!”

Being the glorified weirdo of the crew, I really wanted us to all be on the same level: so I recommended that we all take turns puking. Like a ceremonial puke? Girls do that right? I was shot down immediately. “NO SARAH. WE’RE NOT ALL PUKING TOGETHER” Charlotte rebutted. Fine. But I still thought about running to the bathroom to secretly puke and get rid of the motion sickness (and be on Vivian’s level). But then I felt totally blown away by the melted candles on the table and realized I didn’t actually need to puke and puking wasn’t necessary. And ceremonial group puking isn’t actually a thing. Whatever.

FRAQ LOVES FOOTBALL

Time: 1:55 PM

Before I go any further, I need to introduce you to Fraq. What you probably don’t know is that Fraq loves football and has two phones. None of us knows anything about football, but we live in 2015 and we’re all feminists so we wanted everyone to speak freely about things they cared about or wanted to talk about (minus ceremonial puking). While the sky turned into a hazy shade of blue and voices bounced off walls, Fraq gave us football updates about her favourite team, The Philadelphia Eagles. Fraq told us that The Eagles are underdogs and that they suck. She’s not allowed to switch teams because Fraq has the most integrity when it comes to sticking with football teams. Point being: Fraq is now stuck cheering for a team that’s undoubtedly terrible. With regular updates from Fraq’s sports app, we cheered on The Eagles like confused cheerleaders born and raised in Philadelphia. Because we love Fraq and Fraq loves football.

THE DOORWAY OF INDECISION

Time: 2:20 PM

Somewhere between the time-space continuum of the magic mushroom trip, Charlotte started over-heating and Jane grabbed another bagel. This time, Jane grabbed a special bagel made with coconut sprinkles and topped with Reese’s peanut butter chocolate spread. This was also around the time that I stumbled into a very hard decision: stay inside or go outside. Torn between fresh air and coziness, I rested my body in the doorway unable to move. Looking back, I see how the doorway wasn’t the most practical place to lay down, but at the time, I wasn’t ready to commit to inside or outside.

Charlotte: Sarah, you’re sitting in raccoon poop.

Vivian: How’s your bagel little munchkin?

Jane: You see. This bagel would be better with Nutella.

Sarah: Why’s that?

Jane: Everything is better with Nutella, that’s why.

Charlotte: I FEEL REALLY HOT. OMG.

Vivian: Is it even cold outside right now?

Fraq: THE EAGLES MIGHT ACTUALLY WIN!

Sarah: Why do raccoons poop outside doors?

Vivian: The sky is so beautiful right now.

Jane: Sarah, you can’t sit in the middle of the door. You have to choose either inside or outside. It’s making everyone feel uncomfortable.

Charlotte: SARAH, THE RACCOON POOP.

Vivian: But look at the sky.

Sarah: I think I’m ready. To step outside, I mean.

I SWEAR I’M A COMMUNICATION “PROFESSIONAL”

Time: 2:45 PM

Words felt like blobs of Nutella. Jane passed out in post-bagel euphoria and Fraq was lost in an imaginary league of football. I rested my head on the table and stared into a house plant that pulsated psychedelic patterns of red under thick green leaves. I thought about unemployment, happiness and how weird it is that I straighten my hair everyday. Charlotte’s face was blue and Vivian wiped away tears of laughter. HAS IT BEEN TWO SECONDS OR TWO HOURS!? The scene reminded me of the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Sitting in an imaginary bed, we verbalized words that women might use in a group together: gaaaaaawd, wimennn, ehmergawd, plaunnnnt. There were no cues to conversation, but we continued to chatter as if debating the election or ranting about bicycle lanes the way we would as the communication professionals, train conductors, students and managers we were. I was impressed by our determination to pretend like we were adults having a normal conversation.

LET’S LISTEN TO RHYE AND STARE AT A PAINTING FOR AN HOUR

Time: 3:20 PM

“You know he’s a man right?” Vivian reported. I sprawled my body on the floor like I didn’t have any arms or legs to do otherwise. Nervously, Charlotte wandered around the kitchen stressed out about the plants everywhere. Jane curled up into a ball and Fraq stared into the double screen of her two phones. Suddenly, we all stared at the painting on Charlotte’s wall. It was a man, half naked, sitting at a naked dinner party (or so I thought). Minutes turned into what could have been an eternity, and we all took turns gazing like art critics in kindergarten. The colours changed with each angle. The texture evaporated into thick lines, then into hundreds of tiny bubbles and splashes of thin lines. The room fell silent and Vivian turned over the record so we could listen to Rhye over-and-over again like it would never end.

RETURN TO RESPONSIBILITY AND REALITY

Time: 4:20 PM

A Nutella-covered metamorphosis occurred in Korea Town that Sunday afternoon. Rather immediately, my vision felt less intense and I could feel my head circle back to ordinary patterns: Check email. Check text messages. Check bank account. Find employment. Check Twitter. Have sex. I felt stressed out. We stared at one another in the trust circle of the living room, eating a party pack of dried banana chunks and yogurt-covered almonds. Charlotte was officially twenty-five years old and we all were adults again. We stopped laughing for the first time in what felt like days. School work. Shifts. Money. Annoying bosses. Assholes. Demands. Needs. Wants. Sickness. It all sort of came crashing down on everyone in a way we hadn’t expected. It was late afternoon now, and the only thing to look forward to was Monday. Ugh. We were coming down.

FIVE WOMEN SAY GOODBYE

Time: 4:55 PM

Time had caught up with us. Fraq said goodbye to eat dinner and watch more football. Jane called a cab. Vivian changed the record. Charlotte returned her plants to her room. And I left the house and said goodbye to Charlotte and Vivian. The quarter of the century ceremony was over and it was time to return to the real world. Five women said goodbye and five women turned twenty-five.