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Mid terms were over. I failed all of them and honestly I have never felt a stronger desire to get really fucked up. Being the reasonable person that I am I settled on watching other people get really fucked up.
In a surprising turn of events I was invited to a party. I know the girl. She's really sweet, but I didn't know we were close enough for me to be on her guest list. I suppose if your trying to get a good group of people though that's not something you take into consideration. The last time I went to a legitimate party I was a junior in high school. I would not have gone if Joyce wasn't going |
It's not really my scene. A good night for me is pulling out an Olivia Newton-John vinyl. Watching some Simple Life reruns, maybe write a popping blog article or two. I don't really party.
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I've been told by many people that my school has really good parties. Jenny really liked the foam party one of the student organizations hosted. People got really fucked up and Warner went to one of the fraternity glow parties and he said it was amazing.
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I may not be a party goer, but Elizabeth Taylor is my icon. Fashionably late is my aesthetic. I was out to dinner with Joyce before hand she wants to get there right at 9:00. She said what's the worst thing about early. Everything. Literally everything.
Joyce was looking really cute that night. She had this cute nun look going that she'd gotten from Urban Outfitters. Frankly, she was trolling for men. I was thinking 10:00 would be a good time to stop by. I still thought it was still too early, but it was a polite time to show up. |
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We get there at 9:30. It was her and her roommate and her boyfriend. The same one who doesn't have a job and tried desperately to get with Joyce on tinder. He also said to her “I thought you were taller.” He can stop.
It was about 11:00 when things really started happening. That was an hour and half too long. Joyce had her screwdriver and I was sipping on my bottle vodka. This is when a few people from school arrive. One is everyone's favorite diplomat daughter from France. |
Bottled Vodka
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She's so funny. I love and fear her. She's one of those people that I feel could really fuck you up if she decided she didn't like you. She used to be best friends with the president of my school's GSA and did she talk some shit.
Yes she did. She was turned up. This is the girl who parties in Miami on the weekend for the heck of it. Lit would be an understatement. Her and this very nice boy with a nose ring hot boxed. He's so sweet and I've never really talked to him. He's very quiet. Apparently, all he needs is a few joints and a Pabst Blue Ribbon to really open up. |
The list of drugs he's done is extensive. I think the really question is what drugs hasn't he done. In other news the current art project he's working on includes lots of dicks. After all who doesn't like a big dick in the morning. Am I right?
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The best part of the night was meeting the current flame of Joyce. Her last one looked like a Phineas and Ferb reject. This one was so good. He was gorgeous. A hairy Indiana Jones. He had just enough buttons undone that his chest hair was exposed.
Not only is he pretty, but he's also funny and politically correct and a fiction writer. That he said was just loosely based non fiction. Considering that his mother is an FBI agent and his father is a professional skateboarder I can't imagine it's dull. |
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He also smokes. I love the smell of cigarettes, so other then the fact that he's low key going to die young, I think that's sexy. He asked me if I wanted a cigarette just to hold. For a moment I thought I was in The Fault In Our Stars.
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The clothes were also on point. A good pea coat. One that was probably warmer then mine. Some good pleated pants. As I said. Indian Jones. He was gorgeous.
Sure getting home at 4:00 in the morning was late for me. I'm a good gay who goes to bed at midnight. It was a late night. What I learned from that night is that there are a surprising number of people on the road in the morning and that low key parties are my aesthetic. |
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