Did I ever tell you I could read thoughts?
With four-day weekends come four-day benders. And I have recently become a testament to that fact. Yes, my hiatus has had nothing to do with my sex life, rather, it has to do with the fact that I have some crazy friends, some crazy get-togethers, and some crazy-high alcohol tolerance. This past weekend (and when I say weekend, I mean Wednesday evening through to Sunday night), I partied to my heart’s content. Conversely, I also partied to my liver’s discontent.
Between the underground clubs, the bar hopping, and piling all my friends into my apartment, I can say that I know what makes a good party. If no one has passed out or thrown up, by the end of the night, you probably didn’t have enough booze to go around. Either that or I haven’t challenged the newcomer to drink-for-drink. The latter is actually quite probable, and thus I won’t leave it out. At each of this weekend’s adventures, someone seemed to be passing out. And that someone always seemed to be Renee.
Renee is Jesse’s little sister, granted she’s still older than I am, she’s kind of the group baby, she has recently been brought into our little group. And no, I didn’t play drink-for-drink with her, come on, guys. We were at The Pound on Friday, and Renee, after singing an incredible (and incredibly long) set, passed out on the stage; mic in hand, empty glasses all around her. It was pretty epic.
On Saturday, I hosted what was supposed to a champagne and Breakfast at Tiffany’s party. We watched 20 or so minutes of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, drank many a bottle of champagne, downed bottles of wine, and a 1.4 L bottle of vodka, and everyone else seemed to be doing recreational drugs. I, as the group prude (I know, right? I don’t know where I find these people either), did not participate, rather I ended up going for a nap, only to have Xan to forget to wake me. In all fairness, I’d been running off four hours of sleep from the previous night’s/morning’s party. Xan and Jesse did eventually wake me, however, to announce that they were going and that Renee had puked all over my couch. It was awesome. I, still half a sleep, wandered into my living room, to find my couch covered in baking soda paste, Renee teetering around, and just general disarray. I repeat, it was awesome.
The morning after, or afternoon rather, as I was awoken by Xan’s frantic phone call at 1:30 p.m., involved much cleaning, eating, and many phone calls. It seems everyone was up in arms over my couch, while I was only up in arms over my bathroom. You know that girl from The Exorcist? Imagine if she were a wine-o. Yeah.
Anyways, everyone was calling, feeling bad about certain goings-on, and what I don’t understand is why they were so worried. Yes, my couch covers will be out of order until I get them dry cleaned (for free, none the less), but other than that it was a good night. People are far too preoccupied by the negative. So many things happened that night which were positive. She puked, so what? As previously stated, if no one pukes or passes out, I consider the party to be an epic fail. And I was just glad it was Renee, or else I would have had to take one for the team, or something. And that would just be embarrassing.
On the bright side, I like having friends that I can take a nap around at a party, without being worried about waking up with poorly drawn peni(?) on all my visible skin.
[ First posted: 24/11/08 ]
Life is good.