Hi! I’m alive! Now, I know you probably wouldn’t assume I was dead, but at the pace things were going last night I legitimately thought that I might die from alcohol. At 11:03 PM, I sent a text that said “I’m currently composing my last will and testament” and I promised to give away Coney (preposterous) and one of our bottles of Svedka (probably a good idea). But, here I am, alive and well!
The three of us moved into our apartment two weeks ago, and one of our first priorities was to set a date for our housewarming party. Only then could we look for a kitchen table. We decided on Friday, August 21st, giving us ample time to make friends who WEREN’T from Tinder so we actually had people to invite.
I was SO hype for this party, y’all. The day before, I went to our neighborhood ABC store as soon as I got off work and stocked up on vodka, vodka, rum, TEQUILA, and the quintessential ~*fireball*~. I pushed my little booze cart around with a goofy smile on my face, and I’m fairly certain the cashier thought I was either underage or insane. Also, please note that this is the first party I’ve hosted without Burnett’s! #adulthood
For the entirety of work on Friday, I could not sit still because I was counting down the seconds until we could take shots to our dear friend Coney. It was my friend Amanda’s birthday, and her peer buddy took her out to lunch at the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate. I weaseled my way in because I’m a serial cheesecake addict and because I like to pretend I have friends.
I ended up getting off work early, which could not have come at a better time because I was beginning to experience a cheesecake coma and sitting down in a fluorescently lit room was not helping one bit. I hightailed it home, got myself ready, and went on an expedition to CVS to pick up cups and chasers. As I rung up my five 2-liters and 100+ red solo cups, the overly friendly CVS guy (who never leaves?!) tried to entertain me by wearing a basket on his head and pretending he was a knight in armor ready to fight the dragon (can’t make this shit up, folks). I think he was trying to secure an invite to the party. Maybe next time, CVS dude, also can you slip me a little bit of what you’re on?
I got home shortly before Megan and Lexi, a little bit tipsy from a work happy hour, and Megan and I set out to make our death punch while Lexi got dinner with her friend visiting from Cornell. I’m not sure what the exact measurements were, but the process was:
– LOTS OF PLAIN SVEDKA
– Big packet of Crystal Light
Guys, I don’t know what happened, but this shit tasted like water. So we added more vodka. And it STILL tasted like water. This was dangerous. We took it upon ourselves to let everyone know it was dangerous by creatively labeling the pitcher (it’s a mason jar I can’t even we’re so #basic lolz).
Before we knew it, our guests started arriving! People like us!! We have friends!!! And our friends brought us wine! We started in on a rowdy game of Irish Poker, which culminated in Chris getting put on the bus, but somehow not being as drunk as me. Oh wait, I remember how. I was being targeted.
Coney tried to save me, in the respect that Coney helped me make a lot of friends! We had people sign Coney, we took pictures with Coney, I’m pretty sure I used him as a pickup line on more than one occasion. I had also made blondies and they were a hit, in that “wow pregames don’t usually have food but HELL YES THERE ARE M&Ms IN THESE” sort of way.
Next thing I knew, I woke up, naked and confused in my bed. I popped a couple advil and took some hearty swigs of water, glad to not be exceedingly hungover. Next order of business, check my phone. A couple of texts from a friend I had arranged a drunk phone call with but fell asleep instead, some general group text madness from UVA friends, and desperate cries for help from Hunter, who was starving on our pullout couch and had apparently been surviving on Kraft American cheese singles. HAHA. I rolled out of bed, threw on yoga pants, and went out to accompany Hunter on a search for bagels. As we walked towards Courthouse, we recounted the night’s events, and he helped me piece my timeline and life together.
We went to Brooklyn Water Bagel, which was insanely packed (usually a good sign) but a pathetic excuse for a bagel compared to my beloved Bodo’s. We were not impressed. We wanted to sit outside and let the cool breeze revive us, so we went on a hunt for a table or a bench or a lawn chair or ANYTHING. Finally, we found a spot on the stoop outside California Tortilla next to some girls who, based on their conversation, seemed to have had a night similar to ours.
I was feeling friendly as hell (also may have still been drunk) so I introduced myself and we all started chatting. We decided a fun activity would be to say “Good morning!” to passerby and, if they didn’t respond, to trip them. Yeah, I was probably still drunk. It was a blast, and a great way to talk to extremely hot men (I love living in Arlington).
Overall, housewarming was a huge success. We had fun, Coney had fun, we have a fuck ton of wine and vodka left, and we can’t wait for the next party! Because guess hoo‘s birthday is coming up…? THIS GIRL!