they say you don't know what you got 'til it's gone / / they say that your darkest hour comes before your dawn

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

What I remember from NYE.

NYE plans kind of got thrown up in the air a couple of days before the party, but we managed to pull it together. I had work until 3pm, so I was a little pressed for time since I was supposed to help set up for it. Tristan was meant to bring speakers, but failed. We managed to find some others from whoever brought them (I don’t remember (I’ll be saying that a lot.)) Rachel, Hannah and myself went to Savers and bought these fantastically cheap but ohso comfortable couches for the night. Mine was an $8 arm chair that I can’t wait to bring home and enjoy during summer!

By the time I got to the party, Rachel and Trev were already drunk. I brought a bottle of vodka to mix with coke, even though there was punch already made up. We played a round of Kings before everyone showed up so we were half cut by like 6pm. Trev wore his kigurumi, and Rachel and I were supposed to wear ours, too, but it was too fucking hot. The theme was sexy animals, but no one dressed up, haha. Looker came as a cat; super cute.

The next few moments of the night are probably in the wrong chronological order but whatever. I’m just going to write them in the order as they come to mind and however the hell I remember them, even if it’s not how it really happened.

Bradley showed up at whatever point during the night, and when we were hugging, Trev tackled us and we fell to the floor. I grazed my knee. Happens to be the second NYE where I’ve hurt my knee in the exact same spot. Gud wun.

I don’t really remember how I ended up doing what I’m about to explain, or why I even did it but yeah. Okay so I ended up somehow climbing over my arm chair from behind, and as I went to climb down from standing on top of it, I lost my balance, tried to counterbalance myself, stumbled, fell on my ass on the dinning chair next to my arm chair, and then lost my balance some more causing myself to fall to the floor and face plant it. I now have a bruise on my ass cheek the size of my hand.

Bradley legitimately broke a dinning table’s legs off and then John and Craig were dancing on top of it.
Hannah and Paschal left shortly after midnight, like Rachel and I predicted she would.

The weather was super nice, and I had to sneak inside the house to get my hoodie once I started to sober up and got cold.

Tristan was on my arm chair with Eleanor with a blankie, which was like a fucking lighthouse on fire to Bradley and Anthony, so they picked up the kiddy pool, you know those ones plastic shell ones, full of water and tipped it over them. As funny as it was, I felt bad for them. Also for my chair.

Bradley and Craig were doing some weird wrestling shit in the spare room, and I don’t know how, but Bradley managed to rip Craig’s underwear off while he was still wearing pants. They were throwing around his ripped underwear all night. Tristan also tore a hole in his. Bradley then lifted Looker up in the air by his underwear. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Bradley likes to keep his hands in male’s underwear.
Trev lost his phone but found it in the morning. It was unharmed.

Someone broke Tristan’s bottle of scotch early in the night. He had something like two drinks before that. I went to bed with half a bottle of vodka left; woke up to find maybe enough to make two drinks out of it. Fuckers.

Almost everyone got a NYE midnight kiss.

Out of the few games of Kings I played, I got waterfall (Queen card) almost every time. I made the Kitten Ear Rule, where you have to pretend to have cat ears using your hands every time you talk, which annoyed the hell out of everyone and was super entertaining. Hannah then revoked that rule but made it so that whenever I wanted to talk, I had to do the Chicken Dance. Larry lost the first game; I lost the second; I don’t remember who lost the others.

When most of the people left, we all congregated in the spare room and had a wonderfully hilarious conversation on the incredibly weird/hideous celebrities we would fuck. I took the cake with Steve Buscemi and a few other hilarious suggestions like Donald Trump, Michael Moore, and Eddy McGuire just so I could have them on my list. Do not start a conversation of what kinds of people I would fuck because you will lose.

England tried to walk home/to town but Rachel and I managed to convince him to stay because he was drunk and we were worried. Every time he tried to leave, Rachel literally tackled him to the floor. She’s far stronger than she appears. It’s incredible.

Some other random shit but I’m too tired to think. Woteva woteva i do wot i want.

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