Memories to last a lifetime

We have all done stupid things at other people's parties. Snooped through the medicine cabinet, fell in the pool, lampshades on the head, that kind of thing. However, I feel like there has to be a place where you draw the line. Never should you be so drunk that you can't distinguish when you are going too far. Apparently there are many that don't share that sentiment.

Take last night for example. The girls and I threw our annual Halloween bash with all the bells and whistles. There were two strobe lights, a smoke machine, a seven foot dancing pirate skeleton, it was really beautiful. Most everyone that showed up were our friends that we know and love and all was going smashingly well. Then Ray came, with some friends. Now, we love Ray too, but the boy has some questionable friends. This was a harem of scantily clad coke whores that showed up drunk and just continued to fall deeper into the abyss. Multiple times people stopped me to ask me who the crazy drunk girls were and without fail they were always talking about the slutty nurse and the hell's angel. The hell's angel, whose name I do not know, but who we shall call Cokie McGee, was absolutely the worst house guest in the history of house parties. Loud, creepy, and completely out of control.

Strike one for Cokie (which will sound tame compared to Strike two) was when Cokie was waiting for the bathroom. She quickly dismissed the line of others waiting as insignificant and cut everyone off to get in. After a good ten minutes in the bathroom, she opened the door, asked all standing there if they had any coke, and when the answer was no, she closed the door again and spent another 20 minutes in there. This wouldn't be so bad, we are in LA after all, if I hadn't been recounted this story by a friend of mine that had been in the line. This friend is a fellow mentor in a volunteer program I work with. Not someone who I would want to think I was condoning or encouraging the use of cocaine in my house.

Strike two will live on in infamy as the possible reason we will never have a party in this house again. It will strike fear into all those that dare to pass our doorstep. It has tainted this house for all that live here. The party was wearing on and the guests had become more random. There had been a little drama here and there, but mostly things were tame. Many guests had spilled out onto the the front porch and down the stairs to the lawn. Some of us were standing outside when we saw a cop car drive by and we decided we should turn the music down. Kim went up to Stacy's room to take care of that and will forever be scarred from the experience. Apparently Cokie had made some new friends and they were celebrating their friendship by having a threesome on Stacy's bed. I'll say it again for effect, they were having a threesome on Stacy's bed!

Stacy went understandably ballistic. There was beer thrown, Cokie was smashed against the wall, the entire party was kicked out, and we were left with a hollow place were the dignity of our house once was.

An Ode to Drunk Blogging

I may need a chaperone for my internet access as well. I love the 2AM blog that makes very little sense to anyone but myself and those chosen few who have been bless with hearing the story.

First off, yes, I did fall off the wagon. I went on a date. My hiatus was officially interrupted (and I mean interrupted, because its on again in full force now). Last weekend I went on a date with a boy who I thought seemed dreamy, but in fact turned out to be just another run of the mill asshole who deserved neither my time nor attention. We went out, I thought we had a good time, and then he never called and didn't return the call I made to him. And beyond that, he had the audacity to show up at the bar I introduced him to on the night that we were celebrating my "Insubordinate My Ass" party to commemorate my last day at my very craptastic job. And then he was rude to me. Kim was there, she'll verify. He literally said hello to me and then had his friends close in ranks around him like I was some sort of threat to their existence. I'm not going to harp on this other then to say that this boy sucks and I am very disappointed by the situation. He was so not worth coming out of hiatus for (which also sucks because he was an un-fucking-believable kisser).

But back to the topic at hand, which was the drunk blogging and text messaging that occurred on said evening. I apparently should not be given any access to any type of technology when I have had a little too much to drink. Besides the whole not being witty thing, I am actually extremely dysfunctional at actually working the technology. Hence the Line of Suck text message. What actually happened there was that I was trying to say "You kind of suck. Why won't you talk to me?" But unfortunately, I haven't mastered the predictive text on my new cell phone yet and the text came out saying "You line of suck. Why won't you talk to of?" Which is actually pretty damn funny, but not exactly portraying the same message as the intended text. I have since heard from a mutual friend that asshole and his friend's have adopted "you line of suck" as their favorite new insult. That's okay, because so have my friends. I'm hoping it catches on and we see it on the OC or something in six months.

And as far as the drunk making out goes, I take the fifth. I have no idea what that was about. His name was Rock and he thought I was pretty, which apparently is all you need now a days to cop a feel with me.

You line of suck

That was the text message I just sent to the guy I went on one date with last week who hasn't called. It should be a rule that as soon as I have had more than one beer, someone should take my phone away from me. I shouldn't be allowed the privilege of my phone when I am this drunk. Now I just look like a jackass and I made out with some random ass guy and I really think that I should have a chaperone at all times. Just a thought, but I may be a danger to myself.