House party!

I was talking with a colleague recently about a crazy house party with some young men.  I went down memory lane as I remembered house parties from days gone by.  My favorite one was when my buddy’s parents went out of town for the weekend when I was 19.  Bad idea.

I walked in and found a bottle of 151 and a few pals.  Two hours later, two of the guys got into a condiment fight with mustard and ketchup, which meant they squeezed full bottles at other in a fury, staining the ceiling and some collector hand-woven baskets.  My other friend made a drink with milk, rum and about seven other ingredients.  He violently puked all over the screen door and fell on the ground.  Three of the four chairs at the table got cracked or smashed, which would’ve been a bigger deal if the table hadn’t been broken earlier.  We somehow broke the closet doors also, which I missed because two of the rowdies where literally spitting on each other.  In the face.

I had to work the next morning, which was fun being at a steel mill pumping waste acid into a tanker after dancing with 151.  I woke up about fifteen minutes before clock in.  I smelled a sweet but pungent odor as I ran to the bathroom to find toothpaste.  I realized, when I saw I was covered in full women’s makeup, that the smell was perfume.  It was so disorienting, I nearly missed the pink fingernail polish on my fingers.  I’m sure the fellas at the ol’ mill won’t notice that.

In summation, if you have underage boys, don’t ever leave the house.  Ever.  My buddy’s mom came home and figured we did about $700 in damage, which doesn’t sound bad until you realize we all made less than $8/hour and there were only eight people at the party, and by people I mean guys because what woman would hang out at a party where drunk guys squirt ketchup and spit on one another.  Maybe that’s why they covered me in makeup.  No more 151 for this guy.