The What Pants? Award: Tell us a story of drunken debauchery.

I don�t really have drunken debauchery stories about myself. The one time I got drunk (I hadn�t had enough to eat beforehand), I just felt like I had a heavy head, staggered home, and skipped my 8:30 class because I was too nauseous to move. The end. However, I�ve got plenty of these stories about other people� I�ll tell you the best two.

1: My 21st Birthday:

My 21st birthday party was held out at my ex�s house, which is about an hour out of town in the boonies. Lovely little private location by a river, so it was perfect for pouring in 40-50 people from all different areas for a night of drunken debauchery, group snuggles on the trampoline, odd remarks typed into the chat channel for those who couldn�t join us, etc.

As you�ve perhaps guessed, I didn�t get real drunk at the event. My ex, however, did. I rarely saw him most of the night, but eventually around 10 or so he passed by, obviously quite snookered. To the point where we were actually trying to swipe Guinness bottles out of his hands. He, of course, kept trying to swipe �em back.

Of course, the inevitable eventually happened, and he ended up running to his bedroom, breaking the window open, and puking out of it. We had to put him to bed by eleven o�clock.

That�s when the fun really started. I don�t really remember who came up with the idea, but someone came up with the idea of er, posed pictures. So his friend Christy and I hopped into bed and posed, as did her then-boyfriend Chris. Chris was actually kinda strange (we never did figure out what she used to see in him beyond the cute name gag)- I remember him going on about how he�d never be gay, oh no to me earlier on at the party. Yet Chris was the most enthusiastic one about hopping into the bed shirtless and posing with his arms around my naked boyfriend. Hmmmmm�.

The next day, the ex was Not Thrilled about this. Particularly since he Did Not Like the idea of any part of his flesh not normally covered by pants and shirts being on film. I still thought it was hilarious, though. I�m so evil.

Sadly, I never did get to see the photographs. I wish I had them for a nice slide show on the Internet or something...

2: New Year�s Eve, 2001:

This is the worst party I ever went to.

For one thing, the fellow (Matt) hosting it had lived in the dorms for about 3 years of his college career or so at the time before getting an apartment. Thus, he had invited a lot of freshman/sophomore types, i.e. neophyte drinkers. The crowd I was running with at the time tended to really party hard, if you know what I mean (and you soon will if you don�t), and by eleven p.m. most of the freshman/sophomores had ended up puking in Matt�s private bathroom and sink. The toilet wasn�t so much of an issue, but there was so much vomit in the sink that it piled up and wouldn�t go down the drain. It was a good thing there was an upstairs can, and that most of Matt�s roommates were gone so that he could stick all these drunks in the bedrooms. That cleared out a good portion of the partiers right there.

At least two of these drunk girls came on to Matt while he was er, putting them to bed. I know he liked at least one of them, but since neither of them would have ever come on to him if they hadn�t been plastered, he was a Good Boy and didn�t take them up on it. He griped to me about this later.

The one cute guy at the party was doing this really weird flipping-his-roommate-upside-down thing, and in between that was going around doing his gay impression. Then he kept going back and forth between (a) flirting with this one girl, and (b) feeling guilty about this other girl he�d flirted with before and claimed to like a lot, but wouldn�t do anything about it. Oy vey. So much for that one.

Then there was my best friend Sarah, the Drunken Party Queen. Sarah is infamous for doing shot after shot after shot, a lot more than you�d think a skinny girl could take, and then being sick for days afterward. This night was no exception, but I was amazed at her ability to keep on drinking until six a.m. before the sick finally came on. I think it was about eleven a.m. before her boyfriend could finally get her to move and get into the car to go home.

Oh, and did I mention that Matt�s roommate�s mother was supposed to be coming over the next morning? And she didn�t approve of drinking? (She�d obviously never seen her son at parties, very loud, very drunk, and screaming at Matt�s music choices until Matt played some shit that only he liked.) Hence the Flight of the Bumblebee Cleanup Dance of fifty empty bottles and sticky spills.

I decided to spend New Year�s 2002 home with my parents and fighting with my mom about making cookies. It was a vast improvement from the year before.

Speaking of drinking, I didn't drink enough before calling Mom last night. She started into me AGAIN (and yes, I am kinda mad at my aunt right now for setting this off) about the dentist, then went into asking if my job was permanent yet, and how I should really find something better, and I started screaming that she never approves of anything I do any more and then started crying. Lovely. She in turn remained cold.

Oddly enough, it did manage to get better from there, with me saying that I'm doing a lot better than most people my age are and I'd like to get some credit for that, and her saying she did think I was doing well, and is having issues because she can't really control anything going on with Dad (well, that was obvious). We sorta made up, but god only knows what'll happen during the next conversation, really.

Oh, and she was griping again about how I love Dave more than them, and that I talk to him more than I talk to them. What annoyed me was that I said that I talk to him for maybe 10-15 minutes at a time per day these days (between him being busy and his phone no longer taking a charge real well) and I talk to her for an hour. She then sniped about the every day bit and started adding up exactly how many minutes it all was. For christ's sake. I said "You're trying to make me choose between you, and I do love you, it's in different ways. You know, when I get married, who am I supposed to have as my priority, my husband or my parents?"

She didn't say anything.

I don't know what to make of that.

I still don't think telling soon is a good idea.

In other news, I went back to work today, and those that were there (I saw my boss for 15 minutes total, as she came in real late, and my other coworker was on vacation, and the new folks don't start till Wednesday) were happy to see me, and those who weren't there left notes. Aw, I felt so loved. Back to easy business as usual, whee. Oh yeah, and I'm going to get my own cubicle space (right now I have a shared half-cubicle thing going on). Rock on, me.

Good thing one of us is happy with work, because Dave seems about ready to quit his at the first feasible opportunity. His friend at work quit to get a technician job that is working three 12-hour days at night, followed by four days off, for a lot more pay. Since Dave's an insomniac anyway, this sounds pretty perfect for him- get paid for being up all night. And the friend will put in a good word for him.

However, Dave is stuck staying at his current job at least until he's paid off half of the money he owes his other coworker for the car. (It was going to be until he paid it all off, but given how he seems to be losing sanity there, she graciously said she'd turn it over to him after it was half paid off.) That'll still be a few more months, though. Oh well...

The whole time he was here he kept talking about looking for a job here. I guess that's off for now, but given the housing situation in this town it's probably better to wait, I guess. As usual, we will see.

I may be doing yet another disappearing act this week- the good news is, Dave has Wednesday through Friday off from work. The bad news is, he wants to spend part or all of it (not yet determined) in his own town doing a doctor visit and a stop at the DMV. I'm slightly annoyed about the part about him not being there for all of it- what, you can't do both of those in the same day? Plus as far as I know he hasn't called on the doctor yet. (He may have by the time I talk to him in an hour or so, of course.) I keep wishing he'd come for the whole three days, especially since metalsmithing class isn't on next week (teacher has to go out of town) so I could spend the day with him. But oh well, not my decision.

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