The Day-After Party Recap
NOTE: If you don't want to read a bunch words, then feel free to skip to the pretty pictures near the bottom.
So I was supposed to take a nap earlier today -- and I eventually did -- but originally, before I was about to lay down I got on the internet for a second. And I found this wicked-cool site! It tells the story of the transatlantic tunnel, a tunnel that began secretly during World War II and had been sold to a private company by the sponsoring governments after the Cold War ended. According to the site, it's supposed to open in 2009. Now that I'm actually writing it out, it seems so stupid and unbelieveable. It turns out it's a hoax. And I'm a gullible idiot. Before I found out about the whole non-reality aspect of the project, I got myself all excited and therefore couldn't sleep anymore.
Damn tunnels... Whenever you want to take a nap, know who always goes and ruins it for you? Tunnels, that's who. It's always been that way, and due to the inherent nature of tunnels, I don't think that's ever going to change. Fuck tunnels.
So yeah, I got all pumped up and made a fool out of myself by waking Coleman up from his nap and going on about this crazy tunnel under the ocean. He was half asleep, so hopefully he won't remember... because if he takes just a few coherent, waking moments to think about it, he'll realize that it was just a hoax, and then the razzing will start. I can hear it now... He'll say... Well, I can't exactly hear it all, but I know what words he'll use... OK, maybe I don't even know many of the words he'll use... but you can be goddamn sure that he'll use the word "tunnel". And maybe several repetitions of "idiot" somewhere in there for good measure.
So last night we had a party. It was pretty kickin', as far as parties go. Andre and Alisha both got sick. Tony disappeared into the night. Coleman and I got really drunk and wandered over to residence with a strange man in skin-tight leather pants. His name was Gavin. And he was pushing a girl with a broken ankle in a shopping cart. Oh the fun times in Newfoundland.
So let's tell some stories. We all just invited a bunch of people, and Tony was no exception. One of his invites was some big guy, but not one of those fun big-fat-party-animal types. He showed up loaded and did nothing but stumble around with a glazed-over look on his face. I like to think that if, just prior to the party, a brain surgeon had performed a complicated and dangerous procedure in which he'd replaced this dude's noodle with a delicious Poptart pastry, his demeanor would have remained about the same and not a soul in the place would have noticed... except that maybe he would have broken out a few "BEE-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!"s.
OK sidetrack: Landlord Peter stopped by at the begining of the night to give us the keys to the shed. This event in itself was nothing spectacular, except for the fact that he casually mentioned that there was a kiddie pool in there that we could use if we wanted to. Did we wants to? Yes. Hells yes. Yes we did. I originally set it up in the living room and had the hose running into the house. Peter was tearing up the carpets and putting in a new floor in about a month, so I didn't think it'd be a big deal. I second-thoughted this great idea, fearing that it might be one of my patented "bad ideas". I carried out a brief survey and surprise -- Surveys say that a pool full of water in the living room is a BAD IDEA. So we moved it out to the deck.
Main-track again: So anyway... Coleman, myself, and Andre jokingly tried to throw Alisha into the pool, but our drunken Big-Fat-Non-Party-Animal (henceforth known as BFNPA) stood in the way and wouldn't let us do it. Keep in mind; we're all friends and Andre is her freakin brother! The dude continued to be an idiot, pushing Coleman across the kitchen and creeping on Alisha by trying to kiss her later. Everyone had had enough of this guy, and if he did anything else, Coleman said that he wasn't going to be able to stop himself from punching him.
And here's where the night began to take a turn for the worse for BFNPA. He was doing his thing on the back deck -- ie. standing solemnly by himself and staring into the Nth dimension -- when all of the sudden he just passed out in mid-stand and keeled over into the kiddie pool.
For the next half hour, he did essentially the same "standing around" act in our kitchen, except in a slightly more aqueous manner. After this, as I was coming in off the deck, I met him in the hall. He was lurching in my direction, headed for the door. As soon as I saw him bearing down on me and heard the shouts from the kitchen, I knew what was happening. He had a glassy look in his eyes that was a slightly different incarnation of BFNPA's regular glassy look. It was the I-don't-know-where-I-am-and-there's-bile-in-my-throat look. He was about to be sick.
I threw myself against the wall, and he barrelled past me, out the door and onto the deck. I then went downstairs to my room where Alisha and Alex were chillin' out. All of the sudden, I heard a loud crack and a commotion outside. Deciding it best to investigate, I crawled out my window and found myself in our driveway. Apparently, our party hadn't been good enough and the driveway had decided to throw a bash as well. And who was on the exclusive invite list, you ask? Well, none other than Big-Fat-Non-Party-Animal's face.
He'd been leaning over the rail of the deck, being gross and sick as only BFNPAs can do, when the railing had given way and he'd fallen face-first into the ashphalt. I guess Lovell had just happened to look out the screen door at the guy, and had heard the crack, then saw him disappear over the edge.
I could make any number of jokes about getting "smashed" and whatnot, but that would be heartless. He was an idiot-drunk, but we were still worried about him. We did our best to check him for concussions, then sent him home with someone who hadn't been drinking.
So yeah, all-in-all: good night. I finally gave away the last of our Mexican tequila/gasoline. Erin and Saralynn were the lucky recipients of those shots. Don't they look pleased?
And then there was the funnel. Here are some pics of Andre drinking from it. What he didn't know was that all 1.3L of it had been filled. He thought he was getting a beer and a bit, but people **coughRaylenecough** had poured in a rum & coke and a Rev. Naturally, Andre remained in bed until about 4pm today...
And I got some shots of Metcalfe doing it too.
And then there was the kiddie pool. Good times.
And before I go, I'll mention a fact that someone else happened to notice at some point in the night. Incidentally, there were 3 sets of twins at the party: Raylene & Saralynn Cheeseman, the Metcalfes, and... two girls who Andre knew... I forget their names though! What are the chances of that?
Whatever. I'm out!