Wild night!!!

Right now I'm stuck between writing about partying and smash. They're both topics I want to write about at some point, and they're both relevant from last night. I did write yesterday that SSBM is one of the most important things in my life right now, but I think partying might be a bit more fun.

On the other hand, there is no way I'm going to write about every one of my partying experiences on a public forum like this. I'd have to pull it back a few notches, just to make sure my family doesn't disown me and future bosses look at me like I'm exactly the idiot that I am.

Fuck it, lets give it a shot.

Let's start with last night and work backwards. It was the first time I've gotten drunk as a 21 year old. First time legally wasted. I could have went to a bar, and feel that overwhelming tension collapse as I'm allowed in with no trickery or acting involved. No memorizing street names or zip codes, no overcompensating eye contact, no high fives when on the inside followed by lowering our heads and making a B-line for the bar. It would have been a milestone, an iconic moment that I managed to avoid on my birthday.

Instead, I invited people over for a smash fest. I think that was the better choice.

Ask any college kid, competitive smasher or not, and they'll say that beer and smash go together better than freshmen and lanyards. The competition, the satisfaction of each hit, the camaraderie, everything about this game is improved by pouring booze on top. Except for skill. Your skill gets way worse.

So people came over and we did our thing. It was low key, beer and pizza and smash, exactly my type of party. We had 7 people there at most, very easy to manage. But sometimes parties aren't that easy.

At school I live in a frat house. Funny enough, it's the only frat house on campus. I won't say whether or not we hold parties for legal reasons, but occasionally we have mixers, and sometimes the mixers turn into blenders. I hope the metaphor makes sense.

These par- err, blenders, are made for single people. Imagine the whole dance area like a Lindor truffle. Everyone in a relationship is the hard chocolate. They make up the lining of the whole ordeal, staying in one spot, set in their ways. They're important to the integrity of everybody else, as they're usually staying sober or else they're risking a fight later, and therefore can handle any fall, nip slip, or a makeout session with a 4.

Everyone who's single is the molten inside of the chocolate. That's where the fun is; that's what people come for. These are the troopers requesting risky songs from the DJ. They're the ones testing out what furniture can be climbed on. They're the ones odds-ing each other to take off clothes and sleep with the 4. Getting finger blasted in the bathrooms. Meeting friends and organizing after parties. All the gooey inside fun. Fuck, that's when the metaphor gets disgusting. But that's probably just because I'm cuffed. A single person would love to be called gooey. That horny fuck.

Without single people, a party becomes a gathering. Gatherings fucking suck. A gathering is like five M&ms.  A gathering is where you try to split a six pack between four people, or a twelve pack among seven. A gathering is where you worry about your classes and homework so much that you misplay in cards against humanity. It's where you all take turns being DJ until someone's like "Oh i have Spotify premium I can just do whatever and press next on queue" and everyone nods then someone goes "Oh it's 9 already can we watch America's Got Talent?" and everyone nods then the first person is like "But I'm putting on music, should I keep on the music and put it low or just not play it anymore?" And nobody wants to get involved and risk ruining the atmosphere. Just put it on during commercials, you think to yourself, but you don't say anything because you're a pathetic bystander destined to live in social obscurity and drive home the fun people at the end of your shitty night.

I don't miss being single at all.

Anyway, that's how I feel about parting. I won't go into drugs or sexual experiences, but use your imagination. I'm writing a fucking blog, do you think I have a lot of good stories to tell?

Peace and love. I'm gonna go hatch some eggs and work to be a melee master. I'll check in tomorrow.




First Try:Alcohol
Words I learned to spell: Camaraderie, furniture, disgusting
Shoutouts to that dank semicolon.