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Larry's Wad It's like infrequent random blog, written on a half pint of tequila...
August 8 - The House Part: An Analysis NOTE: I have taken the liberty to assume that the definition of house party somehow involves the existence of a keg on the premises, because let’s be honest: There’s a fine line between “house party” (notice quotation marks) and “just fucking around with some people you know”, and the line is the keg. You are sitting in your room in front of your laptop pretending to work on an essay when your roommate stomps up the rickety stairs, pokes their head around the doorway and says blandly: “House party tonight at [name omitted for legal purposes]”. Immediately the laptop is in the garbage bin under your desk and you are downstairs in the living room, cracking open some very cheap beer. Yes sir, nothing says ‘fun’ and ‘might have to outrun the cops’ like a house party! Whose house? Who cares! Now of course, house party etiquette suggests, nay, demands, that you should know at least one other person there, and this is easily solved by going with a friend (and if a friend can’t make it, try a roommate). So, with friend/roommate/paid hobo in tow, you’re all set, right? Not quite. Before you go: Dress. If you are wearing pants, a skirt, a dress, or something that covers up that delightful area that can get you locked up for exposing it, you’re pretty much set. This is the nature of the house party. Ultra-radical-casual. Unless of course the keg is filled with champagne, and even then, by the time it’s three quarters empty you’ll probably be down to your boxers or panties, anyway. Pre-Drink: Of course you should, but how much? Although this is not an exact figure, drinking a quarter of what you plan to drink at the party is a good amount. This applies to beer only, it should be mentioned, as pounding back a quarter bottle of say, tequila, will only be appropriate if the house party is taking place in the emergency room. Supplies: Do not leave for the party without the following: A beer for the way there, keg money ($5-10), food money ($5-10), public transit ticket/token/pass for the way home OR cab fare ($5-10), THE ADDRESS OF THE HOUSE YOU FUCKING IDIOT, a condom (even if you don’t use it, someone there may pay top dollar for it), a bottle opener, three anecdotes (one should be clean), a dime bag, a lighter, a cigarette, and at least one thing you don’t mind leaving under a pile of coats and never seeing again. The Phone Tag Game: These are the familiar phrases: Who’s going? Is he going? Is she bringing friends? What about her? I don’t know. Who’s she? Remember her? Hold on, I’ll call you back. It won’t be awkward. Yo. The one with the short hair. What do you mean you’re not going? No, we’re drinking here first. Does that even matter? I don’t know, until one, or something. It’s a big party, just don’t talk to them. Fuck that essay, come out tonight! Yes. It’ll end up being a total sausage. No. What’s his name again? Dude, come on, come ON. Departure Time: Careful, careful, careful. You can really look like an ass, being at a house party at quarter to ten. A disadvantage masked as an advantage in the early arrival is the annexation of the keg. If you and your pal are the only two there save the hosts, you can just pull up to the sucker and dig in. And while getting your money’s worth early is always nice, being smashed at eleven o’clock when most people are arriving is very awkward, especially when guests have to step over your limp body to get to the kitchen. The ‘fashionably late’ concept is perfect for the house party, except for the fact that by the time you get there the party might have been broken up by the cops, or even worse, might be out of booze. The walk there: If drinking on the way, take the side streets. On the way there you will discuss with your compatriots about what you plan to do at the party, who you want to talk to, and what time you plan to leave. Disregard the validity of all these comments. Not one will come to exact fruition. One of your friends will leave early, complaining of the noise, the people there, or the inevitable, “I don’t feel like being here”. One of them you will have to carry home, or vice-versa, and another won’t show up until the next day. Don’t be disappointed. That is the nature of the house party. Arriving: Even if you don’t know the exact address, as long as you know the general area that the house is located in you’ll find it, because of the human overflow, and because, at least in the early stages of the party, people are actually abiding by the host’s ‘please smoke cigarettes outside’ request (eventually people will start putting their butts out on the kitchen appliances). Once inside, you will remove your shoes, knowing full well they’ll be knocked all throughout the hall tonight. That’s a better fate than your coat, if you’re stupid enough to wear one (even if it’s still February). The coat shall be left in a seemingly appropriate place (on top of other coats, and later, below even more coats), but then the appropriate place for coats will become an appropriate place to sit, and a guest or host will move all coats to the SECRET BEDROOM LOCATION. To locate this room, you must track down the host when you are about to leave. Now, let’s be generous here. If there are three hosts who know of this hallowed place, by the end of the party, one will be absolutely smashed, one will busy convincing a guy on acid that no one is trying to kill them, and the last one will be trying to clean up a beer/puke/broken glass mess. Your best bet is to just go home and brave the elements, and come back the next day and ask them when they’re in a slightly better mood. Or visit them in jail. So you’re inside, you’re clothes/shoes have already gone AWOL, and you have your glass in hand because you’ve paid cover. First stop, keg. Even if you see people you know, ignore them. They will understand. Keg first. The line may be long. Just wait. Don’t be an ass and try to get ahead. No one will take that (unless you’re six-four, two hundred-plus pounds). With your beer finally full, welcome to the party. The Layout: Most house parties are held in thin, multileveled townhouses. This immediately pits drunks and soon-to-be-drunks against their most hated adversary: Staircases. Especially the ones that go down. Despite the extra exertion, going upstairs is much safer, and this is why kegs should be located on the lowest possible floor. Go up sober with a full beer; come down drunk with an empty glass (notice I’m taking the welfare of the beer over the welfare of the drinker). It’s the circle of life, you understand. This fill-your-glass-go-out-and-mingle-while-drinking-and-then-return-to-the-keg ritual is the lifeblood of the party. It keeps things moving (with the occasional wait in the long bathroom line for a pit stop), ensures everyone mingles and makes sure that no one can monopolize a place to sit for very long. There are a host of specific areas at a house party: The keg room: Sometimes a kitchen, sometimes just a back room. Either way, it’s always packed and frantic. The kitchen, regardless whether or not the keg is there, will have people who are considering ordering food, or just want to escape the madness of the hallways. Occasionally a host will run in and fill a glass of water in the sink for some shmuck that already partied too hard. The Hallways: Madness. There will always be people in hallways at parties regardless of it’s width because people who are at the party to meet up with others want to see the general flow of people so they can call the specific ones to their attention, and because you can lean on the walls, which is important after all that inevitable standing, and because the rooms are usually full and finally, dude, because it’s just cooler in the hall. The living room: A TV will be on, but no volume. Probably a sports channel, or late night programming that went on after the game ended. No one will be watching it. Music will played from a boom box or the music room. A joint will be going around. And there are beer cups everywhere. The conversation here is school related. The bedroom: These are popular because many people can sit on a bed, plus the lucky bastard who went in first (whether it’s their room or not) got the sole chair. Out of respect for the owner of the room, people do not dispose of their empty cups all over the place, but coddle them until they leave, then leave the cups in the hallway. A joint/bong/mirror-with-various-powders-that-I’m-not-going-to-get-into is being passed around. The conversation here is personal. The music room: Where the sound system dwells. If there is a DJ, he or she will be there, along with all their friends, people who just like grooving to loud music, prospective new artists who are sucking up to the DJ so their demo tape might be played, and all those people who think the music sucks and want to put in a Tool CD when the DJ turns around to flirt with someone, drink a beer, or take a hit off a joint. The conversation here cannot be heard. The ‘music’ room: This music room is far enough away from the other music room that the THUD-THUD-THUMP will not easily be heard. Music here is provided via the acoustic guitar in the house, or if the house is lacking, then the guitar that the prospective new artist brought with them. Familiar tunes from the early-to-mid nineties will be strummed, and people will pour in and out to sing along drunkenly off-key (Favorites: Pearl Jam’s ‘Black’ or ‘Better Man’, STP’s ‘Interstate Love Song’, Live’s ‘Lightning Crashes’, REM’s ‘Losing My Religion’ or ‘Everybody Hurts’, Van Morrison’s ‘Brown Eyed Girl’, Kansas’ ‘Dust in the Wind’, and if you’re all up for the challenge, Pink Floyd’s ‘Echoes’). The conversation here is nostalgic. The Off-Limits Room That People End Up Going Into: It always happens. One person is feeling too drunk or is about to faint or freak out and needs to get off their feet so their friend tries various closed doors for a quick place to regenerate and calm down. Of course, as soon as they’re inside for two minutes, others come in, and soon empty plastic cups are left beside the computer keyboard and the floor is sticky. The conversation here is based on the contents of the room. The Off-Limits Room that stays that way: This is accomplished by locking the door. Don’t put any ‘off-limits’ signs on the door. That just makes drunk people curious (their reasoning: ‘maybe that’s where the other keg is’). The Bathroom: A whole host of activities can occur here. Some positive (hotboxing and other drug indulgences, a quick sexual encounter), some negative (throwing up, a much-too-quick sexual encounter), and some just necessary (taking a piss, washing vomit off your shirt). The goal is to take up as little time a possible, as many house parties only have one bathroom. On nights when Murphy’s Law is in full effect, the toilet will probably stop working. People: The following categories of people have been observed at house parties (there are more, but I’m lazy): The party drunk (frequently heard ‘whoo-ing’ and ‘yeah-ing’), the somber drunk (“y’know, at times like this I really…I really think a lot about…what would have happened if…if something…”), the pothead drunk (joint in one hand, beer in the other, this is the REAL double-fisting), the cokehead (too bright, too cheery, too social, and will hit the fan at a sudden loud noise), the sober (saying, through clenched teeth, “No, I’m not drinking tonight”. Rare), the bimbo and the mimbo (surprisingly, they never find each other), the social goth (because few people are interested in discussing pentagrams and opeth, they are usually stuck with talking about school), the anti-social goth (friend of the social goth. Doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t say anything. Leaves early), the bohemian (“I just recently finished a Vonnegut”), the bourgeoisie (“I just recently finished an internship”), and everyone’s favorite, the uninvited guy who nobody knows and finishes off any cups that people forget about. The End: Contrary to popular belief, the house party is not over when the keg is done, nor when the police show up, nor when a fight breaks out over someone trying to steal something. It is either a combination of these things…or about 3AM. By one o’clock, the ‘light’ drinkers have all gone home. By three, everyone who is drunk needs to crash, and the hosts will make goddamn sure that it won’t be on their hallway floor. So the drunks are shook awake, given a hug, and thrust out the door. The potheads have already left, forging for food at any late night pizza or Chinese food joint, then going to play videogames at one of their houses until the wee hours of the morning (veteran potheads have surprisingly strong constitutions). The cokeheads and tireless party animals found the scene ‘slow’ since 1:30, and have skipped out to some all-night club. Only the inner circle of the hosts’ friends will be allowed to spend the night, and they will pay for it by grudgingly helping out in the clean up the next morning. By this time, you should be stumbling home, cold, with a different pair of shoes, somebody’s e-mail address in one pocket, a demo tape of the prospective artist in the other, a half empty bottle of beer someone you kind of know gave you, drunk and high off your ass, tying to remember what happened for a particular half hour period after that shot of rum. When you get back to your place, you make too much noise, waking one of your roommates (as they will coldly remind you in the early afternoon when you get up), chug two full glasses of water, and stumble into bed. You need a good night’s sleep. You’re throwing your own kegger tomorrow.
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'oh i didn't know that, but then again there's only
one I met, and he just smoked my eyelids, and punched my cigarette'
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