Last October, I decided it was a good idea to have a high school reunion party at my house. Why did I think this? Because I'm a fucking moron, apparently. Stupidest. Idea. Ever.
I sent out a facebook invite (because that's how the cool kids do it these days, yo) to everyone who graduated with me to invite them to this kickass party at my house the weekend before Halloween. I planned it a month in advance, and I counted down the days. I lost five pounds and bought a new dress that made me look smoking. I bought cups, beer, vodka, orange juice, and downloaded some old school rap songs. (What Would You Do by City High, anyone?)
Then the day of the party came.
I should probably let you know that I'm a little crazy sometimes. I'm the kind of girl that WANTS to get along with everybody, and I usually do. I want everyone to like me, even if it's someone that I don't like. Which makes no sense, by the way. So, on party day, I started getting this huge sense of dread that no one was going to show up because they all hated me.
The party was supposed to start at 8:00, and my friend came over at 7:30 to help me avoid the run-in with the Firster.
(The Firster - n. The first person to arrive at a party. He/She usually does not know the host/hostess very well. The Firster typically creates a very awkward evening.)
At 8:30, NO ONE was there. Me and my friend (along with our boyfriends) had started a bonfire and were drinking screwdrivers. So what do you do when no one shows up to your party? You take a motherfucking shot!
Then, low and behold, a few people showed up! And what do you do when the first guests arrive at your party? You take a motherfucking shot! And chase it with your screwdriver!
But, what? Wait. It's someone's birthday? You know what we have to do now, right? Take a motherfucking birthday shot! And make another screwdriver to chase it with!
I have no clue how many shots I took in the first hour of that party, but DAMN. I was plastered. And then... people started showing up. Lots and lots of people. Apparently, they didn't hate me. I don't even remember all those people rolling in. One second, I was sitting alone on the couch, and the next? I was stumbling out onto the porch to see 20+ people playing beer pong.
The things that happened after that moment were not pretty. I threw up in the bathtub, was carried to my bed, and proceeded to empty my stomach of everything I'd eaten in the past ten years into a trash can. Fiancee sent everyone home, and that was the end of that.
Except it wasn't.
Because I dry heaved for TWENTY-FOUR hours after that party. And in between crying, puking, and asking Fiancee to just kill me so this could be over, I realized something.
I am obviously a weak drinker and need to start doing shots EVERY weekend so I can get better.
Other really exciting events that happened at this party that I don't remember?
1. Trying to hug my friend but pulling her in the mud when I fell down.
2. Almost falling in the bonfire multiple times.
3. Running around with no shoes on in the mud.
4. Spilling drinks on EVERYONE.
Which reminds me of another party I had at my old apartment and is the reason for the title of this post. This is what transpired after too many screwdrivers.
I would write an entire post about that night, but I'm not so sure I want God to have hard evidence of my sins.