ok so this might have been one of the funniest thing ive read. lol oh the things that go down at my house 
p.s i found this on facebook. its not written by me haha lol who would write an essay about a party?! /only steven would haha:p
read it
Bubble Friday: Jackie's party
4:09am Sunday, Mar 11
Alcohol has potential to be the most devastating substance at a party. However, there is one substance that is able to top it. This wouldn’t normally be expected of it, however it can have such a property. It can degrade anyone worse than alcohol ever could. This substance? Common household kitchen soap. My Friday would have been great, except for the inclusion of that devil-sauce. Now, this is my first time writing something like this, so bear with me as I attempt to put down into paper the mismatched memories of the “cast party”, as people were apparently calling it.
Basically, the day started for me as soon as the school day ended. The plan was to go see 300 at 7:20, and then get on the bus and go to the party. I got a ride home at like 3:30, along with Dylan, and we basically stopped off at his house for booze (because tragically my parents do not drink), and then went to my house to let me get changed. What he grabbed was a Nalgene bottle full of Ketel One. I had never tried Ketel One before, but I am not worried. When we got to my house, we tried a little bit, and it was fairly strong stuff. (Keep in mind how often I actually head out to parties; my judgment of “strong” may be a little bit down as of late). So after a grilled cheese sandwich for both of us, we decided to head down to the theatre to get ready for the movie.
The movie we were planning on seeing, 300, had so much hype on it that I was expecting the lines to be wrapped practically halfway around the building. For this reason, we showed up there about 2 hours before the movie began. But unfortunately, this was not so. When we got there, not only were there no lines for our showing, there were no lines for the two showings before it, either. So we were basically fucked over unless we found something to do. There were supposed to be 9 people coming to the theatre: me, Dylan, Chris, Jay, Justin, Curtis, Taylor, Heather, and Kat, so hopefully at least a few of them would have gotten there on time. Dylan and I walk inside to go see if there was anyone inside, and luckily enough we found Chris, Jay, Kat and Heather. So we met up there, and for the most part the fifteen minutes that we spent there were boring. We basically looked at the Harley-Davidson that they had on display, and got some pictures of a die-hard 300 fan that went all out and came in costume.
So as you can imagine, we got bored of that quickly. Jay and Chris decided to go meet up with a friend of theirs for something, so we left the theatre to head out to a park down the road. Chris told us me, Dylan, Heather and Kat to wait at the park while he went and met up with this friend, so we were stuck doing nothing again. I pretty much sat down on a seat and fell asleep from doing nothing. Over the next ten minutes or so, nothing happened, except that I got a phone call from Justin and Curt saying that they’d get there at about 6:30, and then I got a call from Chris telling us to head back to the theatre. So we head back there, and meet up with Taylor, who had arrived there while we were at the park. Then, when Justin arrived, we discovered we had a problem: one of the tickets had gone missing. Taylor came up with the solution, though. I’m not going to tell you what it was, but you can figure it out for yourself.
In case you were expecting a review of 300, or any movie details, tough. Go see it yourself. In any case, it was a good movie, and afterwards we headed right over to the bus stop to head over to the party of the night. It took us probably close to 45 minutes to get on the right busses and then to walk to the cast party. Not much really happened during that time, except apparently some breasts were grabbed, but I didn’t see this and therefore cannot confirm or deny it. But while we were changing busses, we met up with the tenth member of our entourage, Ryan. So we bussed it to the final stop and got off, walking there and drinking along the way. By this point I was at about stage 3 (out of five), so still walking right but with little knowledge of what I was saying at the time. On the walk to the cast party, we came across a couple of people, one of which was throwing up. We decide to keep walking and go to the party.
When we finally reach the party, we find a cluster-fuck of hormone-driven teens filling a house. On it’s own that’s a guaranteed recipe for disaster, but throw in some alcohol and weed, and you’re guaranteed for property damage at best. We walk in, and immediately split up. Chris, Heather, Dylan and I go in one direction, while everyone else goes in a completely different direction. As soon as I walk five feet into the house, I find a bottle of something thrust into my face. I grab it and ask its owner (Jen Mann) what it is, to which the response is "Wine". I tell the owner to go fuck off, and not shove that dirty waste of alcohol in my face. As I walk away, she calls after me, "But it's expensive wine...". I then find some people who I am able to recognize in my inebriated state and begin a mostly sensible conversation, complete with a couple randomly interspersed pictures. But then they decide to go, so I am forced to either a) find more alcohol or b) find the people I came with. I choose option A, then option B. I look around for the host, and after about a minute I find her; lucky for me she is carrying a 40 of Smirnoff. I promptly take it from her, and am able to take about 3 or 4 good chugs before it is removed from my grasp. My thirst for alcohol quenched, I proceed to find at least some of the 9 people I came there with. I find them downstairs, blasting rap music and setting up in a circle. Not wanting to be “left out”, as my drunken mind concluded, I promptly grab a chair and join the circle. There are some people I don’t know in the circle; they pull out some marijuana. It is passed around. Kim comes up to the circle and wants to share my seat. I say no, and I make her sit on the armrest, because I’ll be damned if I’m giving up any of my seat.
This scene stays in place for a few minutes, with the pipe being passed around. After a few minutes, Kim tells me to go upstairs and get me a chase for her drink. Our conversation went something like this;
Kim: You wanna go upstairs and get me a chase?
Me: Nope. Go get it yourself
Kim: Please? What if I go with you?
Me: How do I know you’re not going to just steal my chair?
Kim: I won’t, I promise
Me: Alright fine, but this had better not take long.
She then promptly stole my chair, and made me go upstairs and get a chase anyways. Angered at this, I decide to find the most disgusting thing in the house, so I head upstairs and proceed to the fridge. Opening it, I realize that all the drinks have pretty much been given out already. Good, I tell myself, this should cut down my search. I take a look through the fridge, picking out things like milk and yogurt and examining them. None of them are quite what I’m looking for. Then I see it: a small tetra-pack container, with red and green on it. I pick it up and look at it. Could it be… yes, it is: Clam Tomato Cocktail. I have found her chase. I pocket it and proceed to go downstairs to deliver it to her.
But before I do, I feel my sobriety starting to return. This is not good. I announce to the kitchen that I am now tasked with finding more alcohol. I am met with a few cheers. At this point, Dylan returns with his Ketel One, and tells me that he has found something to add to it. He shows me a bottle of Green Apple Martini Flavoring, and tells me that it looks good. I tell him to stop wasting time, and pour it in post-haste. He then drinks some and tells me it tastes good. I proceed to take one big gulp from it, but after that it strikes me as being nothing short of disgusting in flavour. As I push past several people rushing to the kitchen sink, I can feel the vomit coming up. I decide this is not a good thing. The first thought that crossed my mind was that I had gone over my threshold for alcohol. I immediately rule that fact out with the fact that I am more or less sober. My train of thought is interrupted as the first stream of vomit announces itself with a bang. I feel an odd burning sensation in my throat as it comes up, different from the last time I threw up as a direct result of drinking. When it stops coming out, I open my eyes and look down into the sink to see, not the usual mix of liquid and solid contents of the stomach, but… bubbles.
Oh Shit. I just threw up two rounds of water and bubbles.
At that point, Dylan comes over and tells me that he just realized it wasn’t apple mix; it was soap. Some asshole had apparently put green soap into the apple martini bottle, no doubt thinking that it would be funny to have someone drink soap. I start to curse Dylan for not realizing this sooner, but the vomiting comes again, and brings about more bubbles. Luckily, there was one sober person in the kitchen who did more than laugh at the “kid who was puking bubbles”. Some grade 12 at my school that actually has a sense of morals was there to help me out. She told me drink lots of water, a thought that had not occurred to me yet. The next half an hour is pretty blurred, but I remember some key events:
- Vomiting more bubbles
- Drinking close to 2 litres of water over a half an hour
- Taylor coming up behind me and laughing at me, before being shooed away by the kind grade 12
- Me punching Dylan in the chest mid-vomit
- Once the vomiting stopped (periodically), me yelling at Kim, who had sent me up in the first place, from across the kitchen
- Dylan telling me that he had to pour out the rest of the bottle of the Ketel One, which was a good half the bottle, and me yelling random curse words at him
After I finally stopped hurling bubbles into the sink, I finished off with some comment about doing the host a favor by putting soap on her dirty dishes, thanked the kind grade 12, and then went off to find some place to pass out for the night. Apparently everyone I came with, except for Dylan, had all left. This displeases me, but I am too tired to take it out on the people around me. I head upstairs, looking for at least a bed. I end up walking in on two people in the same bed, and before things are made awkward I walk out. I then go looking for blankets, because that is more important than a bed at the time. I walk into a closet, grab two blankets, then fall on the floor and try to sleep. But I do not rest for very long. I was lying down for about five minutes, when Dylan burst in and told me that he found me a couch. I give him the one-finger salute, and then grab one blanket, wrap it around me, and walk downstairs.
True to his word, he had managed to clear out a room of people and provided me with a vacant couch. I throw myself upon this couch, and attempt to fall asleep. Realizing that with the music coming from downstairs blasting bass that this was not going to happen, I pull out my phone and start writing down notes in my still half-inebriated state that was enhanced from vomiting. I managed to only find a few of the notes, but some of them were “No morre liqeuereur”, “I can’t remembbr”, and the very SlingBlade-esque “Pleas kill me”. Apparently, Dylan had been watching out for me to prevent people from drawing penises on my face, when he had found some girl from Reynolds that he was talking to. I have no memory of this, but apparently I showed the two of them the last note, and they laughed and said “Not gonna happen, dude”. After that, I had a few soap-tasting burps, then fell asleep at about 1:30 in the morning, when I had my last clear memory of me holding Ritz crackers with some falling out of my mouth.
The next morning, I was woken up to a voice telling the people who had fallen asleep in the same room as me to get up and help clean up. I have no interest in cleaning up a house that is not mine, so I pretended I was still asleep and rolled over trying to play into the illusion. I waited until they left the room, and by that time the only people left in the room were me and Dylan. He was waking up, so I decide it was a good time for me to as well. I check my phone: 7:30 in the morning. I am not amused. I put on my jacket and shoes, burp up one more bubble, then announce to the house that I have to pee. I find the bathroom, and there is vomit in the sink. I go to the next bathroom, and there is a shattered glass on the floor. I decide this is the better of the two, and empty my bladder. I then go back upstairs, where there is talk of ordering food from Denny’s. They say if I want any, I have to pay to get it. I have no money, so I tell them they can have their god damn Denny’s, and tell Dylan that we are leaving. I check my phone and I have a new voice message, but enough battery for perhaps one call, if that. So I thank Jackie for a place to stay, because I am a good citizen, and then we walk out to catch the bus.
It turns out that there are no busses going directly downtown without weaving halfway through Gordon Head first at 7:30 on a Saturday morning. We had to walk about two kilometers before figuring this out. We catch the bus downtown, and get off at Chapter’s. I want food, so I search through my wallet for any form of currency, and I find a Starbuck’s Card with some money on it. Jackpot. We walk to the nearest Starbuck’s, and order two pastries and a Jones soda. I end up going about a dollar over the card, and have no money to pay it, so I just walk away with the food. At that point, I was too hungry to care. We finish our food and drink and part ways as I go to catch the 50 out to Langford. I make it home in less than an hour, charge my cell phone to hear the voice message. It was from Justin, at about 1 in the morning, and the message went like this:
“Hey, uhh, Steve, its Justin man, uhh, like, where are you? Are you okay? We went to my house… yeah, uhh, my house, yeah we went to my house. Uhm… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You are okay, right? Kay… so yeah, we’re at my house. Just making sure you’re okay. I’ll uhh, I’ll see you tomorrow dude.”
It was one of the best messages I ever got on my phone. All in all, I have to say that it was a pretty good night. With the exception of the puking bubbles part; that fucking sucked. I was pissed off at the time about being referred to as “That bubble kid”, but now I don’t mind. Just so long as no one fucking puts soap in my drink at the next party. Which is at my Cowichan river property over spring break. And is invite only.
Afternote:
Apparently after everyone I came with left, they all went back to houses after walking for about two hours, and then fell asleep, so it sounds like I didn't miss much. As much as this sucked, I really don't regret it.
The next day, Jackie told me that her iPod had gone missing, along with several other things. I pretty much had to stop from saying "I predicted that", because that's pretty much bound to happen.
Dylan has, as far as I know, still not talked to that girl from Reynolds yet.
And I still have not quite found out who that kind grade 12 was. I have theories, but still not sure.
