rossmum
May 11th, 2008, 01:54 AM
As you could possibly tell if you spoke to me last night/this morning (my time), I was a little drunk. I'd had about 8-10 standards (I think I had 6 beers but it might've been 7), we had about half of Newcastle packed into our tiny little house, and shit was getting pretty crazy. For the most part it was a good party, got to meet some awesome people, catch up with some mates from down the road, shit like that. As the night went on, though, these three randoms started getting pretty aggro at my mate Adrian in the kitchen, so a rather drunken me told them to fuck off out of my house if they wanted to start shit. Either I'm somehow actually intimidating when pissed, or they were just being polite towards me as it was my house; either way, when they did try and start something they did so outside and after a few choice words from myself and another housemate, they backed off. I'd had about 5 by this point. Fast forward an hour or two, the house is a fucking mess, but nothing we couldn't clean up.
A few people offer me a smoke, but despite my intoxicated and adventurous state, I manage to stick to my vow not to smoke. Mind you, I was probably getting a lot of shit secondhand; thankfully the smokers went outside after a while. There was also some weed... somewhere, bathroom I suspect. We'd had some here last weekend, but a combination of me being sober, my own aversion to smoking anything at all, my best friend's resolute disgust at drugs and my doctor's warning that my already slightly messed-up brain wouldn't react well to it kept me from touching the stuff. I went out and watched some movies with them, though. Anyway, I digress; as I said, I was now drunk and adventurous and I knew there was some in the house, but somehow my judgement remains perfect even when I'm off my face (that said, this is my second or third time drunk and I'm getting used to it, I could walk a mostly straight line and such but I knew I was pissed) and I avoided it. So I got talking to some of the randoms (seriously, I only knew about 6 people out of the 40+ who were there, 2 being housemates), had a pretty awesome time talking shit about uni, philosophising about why people should be more tolerant with this gaggle of black guys who turned up about halfway through the night, so on and so forth.
By about 1:30, someone had put a hole in the wall, about 3 bottles had been smashed, and the piece of doorframe where the bathroom door lock's bolt went had been smashed clean off the frame and across the floor. I'd also managed to physically rip my sliding door off its tracks (I must gain a lot of strength when drunk, because I seriously didn't push it open that hard), but after a lot of messing about in the dark (my light had blown about half an hour earlier, brilliant timing - I later replaced it, drunk, without killing myself) I managed to fix it. We figured it was time to clear out, so Jaclyn told everyone the party was over and she'd call the fuzz if people didn't leave; about 5 minutes later, everyone was gone except the three of us who live here (no. 4 is home for the weekend), and Adrian and Anna from down the street, as well as this girl I don't know at all who's been crashing on our couch for the past week. Adrian and Anna left about 10-20 mins later, and I bummed around the forums for a bit until my net decided to shit itself (turns out someone knocked the modem over and then a stack of books and crap fell on it). Before I went to bed, and still well and truly out of it, I scrawled a note declaring that despite the fact the party wasn't my idea, I didn't invite anyone, and I'd been cleaning up broken glass and shit all night (cut my feet up pretty bad, but didn't feel it being drunk and all), I would help clean up. Sure enough, I wake up just after lunch today, vacuuming everything with my scorched-earth "if it's on the floor, it shouldn't be" policy, cleared up the last of the glass (that I could see), slotted yet another popped floor tile back into the grout, fixed the doorframe perfectly and offered to get dad to come up and fix the tiles and the wall next chance he had.
It was a pretty good night, even if I did miss a second double-ep of my favourite show for it.
A few people offer me a smoke, but despite my intoxicated and adventurous state, I manage to stick to my vow not to smoke. Mind you, I was probably getting a lot of shit secondhand; thankfully the smokers went outside after a while. There was also some weed... somewhere, bathroom I suspect. We'd had some here last weekend, but a combination of me being sober, my own aversion to smoking anything at all, my best friend's resolute disgust at drugs and my doctor's warning that my already slightly messed-up brain wouldn't react well to it kept me from touching the stuff. I went out and watched some movies with them, though. Anyway, I digress; as I said, I was now drunk and adventurous and I knew there was some in the house, but somehow my judgement remains perfect even when I'm off my face (that said, this is my second or third time drunk and I'm getting used to it, I could walk a mostly straight line and such but I knew I was pissed) and I avoided it. So I got talking to some of the randoms (seriously, I only knew about 6 people out of the 40+ who were there, 2 being housemates), had a pretty awesome time talking shit about uni, philosophising about why people should be more tolerant with this gaggle of black guys who turned up about halfway through the night, so on and so forth.
By about 1:30, someone had put a hole in the wall, about 3 bottles had been smashed, and the piece of doorframe where the bathroom door lock's bolt went had been smashed clean off the frame and across the floor. I'd also managed to physically rip my sliding door off its tracks (I must gain a lot of strength when drunk, because I seriously didn't push it open that hard), but after a lot of messing about in the dark (my light had blown about half an hour earlier, brilliant timing - I later replaced it, drunk, without killing myself) I managed to fix it. We figured it was time to clear out, so Jaclyn told everyone the party was over and she'd call the fuzz if people didn't leave; about 5 minutes later, everyone was gone except the three of us who live here (no. 4 is home for the weekend), and Adrian and Anna from down the street, as well as this girl I don't know at all who's been crashing on our couch for the past week. Adrian and Anna left about 10-20 mins later, and I bummed around the forums for a bit until my net decided to shit itself (turns out someone knocked the modem over and then a stack of books and crap fell on it). Before I went to bed, and still well and truly out of it, I scrawled a note declaring that despite the fact the party wasn't my idea, I didn't invite anyone, and I'd been cleaning up broken glass and shit all night (cut my feet up pretty bad, but didn't feel it being drunk and all), I would help clean up. Sure enough, I wake up just after lunch today, vacuuming everything with my scorched-earth "if it's on the floor, it shouldn't be" policy, cleared up the last of the glass (that I could see), slotted yet another popped floor tile back into the grout, fixed the doorframe perfectly and offered to get dad to come up and fix the tiles and the wall next chance he had.
It was a pretty good night, even if I did miss a second double-ep of my favourite show for it.