(no subject)
Tom and Kelso, (short for Kelsey, evidence that Tom is not gay) had a pretty bangin' party at Tom's place. I've never been one for the whole club scene, and house parties provide an appropriate outlet for the raging inferno of actions and words that would seem inappropriate in any other context. There's just something about hanging out with some good friends that make conversations that contain the phrase, 'I've got a twelve foot cock!' socially acceptable.
Tom, being Dutch, introduced us to the wonders of oliebollen, The Netherlands' answer to France's beignet, America's Krispy Kreme donut, and the best of fritters from Canada's own Tim Hortons. If you have any inclinations of eating healthy for the New Year, forget about visiting Goldmember's pad for the party. When we got near the end of the oliebollen cooking experience, we noticed that we had roughly half the amount of fryer oil left in the pot than when we started.
Whoops.
However, no New Year really starts without at least a healthy dose of goonery. I learned that the key to successfully surviving a drinking session is all in the preparation, and a base layer of starch, fat, (and in this case, raisins,) does wonders for those of us with low alcohol tolerance.
I'm really glad I ate like a dozen of them before I started drinking.
The drink-on got into full swing after the clock struck midnight, and somehow we'd drifted onto the topic of my love life. Kelso, indulging her alcoholic side was fucking hilarious! 'Jonny! Phone the French girl and tell her you're gonna marry her as a joke!'
'What? No! That's awful, and cruel!'
'No! It'll be funny!'
If there's one thing I love about my friends, it's gotta be that they're completely beyond supportive; even if they show it in really fucked up ways. I mean sure, everyone was pretty drunk at that point, but we all know that there are things that you only say when you're completely blitzed out of your mind.
Kelso, always the life of the party, came to this realization after many ounces of alcohol, including one super drink that quite literally had a shot of everything we had on hand:
'Jonny! Okay, I know why you don't have a girlfriend; you don't find local girls! Stop hanging around airports!'
'Okay, well, uhh - '
'I know! You can use your questionable sexuality to your advantage! You're already metrosexual enough to pass for fully gay, and -'
'Really? I -'
'Shutup! You can befriend a girl, tell her that you're gay, then rejoice as she 'converts' you! It works like a charm!'
Taken aback, I asked the nearest female who wasn't resting her head in my pillowed lap. 'So Sam, do you figure I'm metro enough to be fully gay and have some girl convert me?' Stifling a choke, she replied, 'Yup, I do in fact believe you could be gay enough. I thought I had you figured out first time around, but you're just full of surprises now.'
After these two little tidbits, the night started to turn for the worst.
There wasn't any drama to deal with, but alcohol will always win out in the end. I'd learned my lesson after my 22nd birthday, and since then I haven't gotten gooned enough to warrant sleeping next to a bucket for the night.
Kelso crashed. Hard. That much was obvious, but it was only after Tom put on the speedskating unitard, and then gave it to Dave who retrofitted his crotch with a foot long cucumber.
Seeing Tom run up the stairs with a bucket, I made my exit.
You know, there's something about fog on New Year's that just fits. You can't see more than a few feet in front of you, and you can barely see the path you've carved to your current position, and in the inner city, everything's just so quiet and peaceful. It was a pretty sudden departure from the house of debauchery and wanton self-indulgence I'd left a few minutes before, but I relished the time for self-reflection.
Who am I?
Where have I been?
Where am I going?
If you haven't done so, and you live in a fairly safe community, try walking around at 3 AM with all the fog. If you stick to the lit roads, you should be fine.
I made it home safely, and got in to bed.
I hadn't slept that nicely in a long time.
Oh, and the surprise in the morning?
It's kind of lame.
Well to all of you, well, normal folk who don't spend a lot of time on the 'Net, it's lame.
Wait, if you're reading this, then you probably spend a lot of time online.
So maybe this won't be as lame.
Anyways, there's this girl who's abroad and stuff, and we've, you know, been talking and stuff. And it turns out her sister lives in town here, and she figured we might get along.
I got some background info on her, through a series of 'fill in the blank' questions.
Me: 'She will kick you in the nuts if you ______'
She: 'Grab her breasts...Upon immediate introduction'
Me: 'She broke up with her last boyfriend because _______'
She: 'He moved away.'
Me: 'When meeting people for the first time, she tends to ________'
She: 'Flirt outrageously'
Me: 'I will kick you in the nuts if she tells me that you ___________'
She: Option a) 'Didn't cook her a delicious supper'
Option b) 'Decided to take the 'sister package' and made comments referring to said package, which is not offered in this region and will not be available with the company.'
Okay, okay, this probably won't go anywhere beyond a good friendship, but hey; at least it beats waking up to your buddy's femme room mate with a crate of frozen sausages between the two of you.
And it all starts tomorrow!
Yes, of course I had this entire train of thought as I was finishing up the mopping.
And now I'm having the world's biggest vodka screwdriver, and as my clothes finish washing, U2 has reassured me that is indeed, a beautiful day..
Hello, 2006.