Crushing Krisis

The Newest Oldest Blog In New Zealand

parties

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Cast Parties are always an experience that involve nearly as much drama as the show they are celebrating, and last night wasn’t an exception. What was an exception was that i didn’t drink; i’ve never drank at a winter show party, and decided to turn the trend into a tradition. It was interesting, if only because everyone finally got the point that i am really a fucking lunatic whether or not i’ve got a couple of drinks in me. There was simulated sex with multiple cast members. There was a contest to see who could grab the most genitalia, both male and female. There was me singing along and bopping around to the entire Immaculate Collection.


Oh, and i might have attempted to kiss someone.

When i’m drunk i flirt, but i’m usually doing it in a generic drunken way. Being sober, last night i was flirting with some amount of purpose. And, oddly enough, i was being flirted back at. I still don’t quite understand what was going on, personally, but apparently Laurel knows the whole story and will explain it to me before the show tonight.

See, i’m a stupid fucking lunatic who can’t even manage to lean in for a kiss whether i’m sober or trashed. Don’t you love the consistency?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/02/9552150/

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Having never hosted a party before, i was somehow blissfully unaware of some of the cardinal rules. Sure, they seem obvious, but when said party is really just a handful of friends kicking back with some mixed drinks nothing seems life or death.


For those of you not in the know, cardinal rule numero uno is that the host should not attempt to drink the drunkest party-goer under the table, especially when being “under the table” involves locking oneself in a bathroom for multiple hours while shouting out pleasantries like “How’s the cake?” and “Could someone please check Matt’s pulse.” Apparently, it’s bad behaviour for a host to lie crumpled half-naked on cool tile floor while his roommates and party guests make sure that everything gets put back where it belongs and that everyone gets home okay. Who knew?


For those of you keeping score at home, i now owe a big favour to all of my guests and roommates. Big. Like… do any of you have a line on this world peace thing?

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8881175/

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The cool thing about this (other than how my typing speed and accuracy increases when i’m drunk) is the excellent time that i had. I saw friends. We made dinner. We exchanged gifts. I was dressed in a coordinated fashion until i started stripping on the dance floor. The entire affair made me feel entirely adult, complete with multiple wines before dinner, discussion of skiing over entrees, planning a trip to Spain over cocktails, and an excellently played game of chess throughout. Though most of the attendees are still undergrads, we definitely have found a way to have fun that isn’t just some beer-soaked party, and that manages to be witty and still just drunken enough to remind us we’re in our golden years.

It’s been a good week.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8427274/

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So, like, i might be just a little wee bit intoxicated. Nothing to worry about, i assure you. It all started with our pollyanna dinner, where i unexpectedly scored the White Stripes album that’s been topping critic’s polls and Dance Hall at Louse Point, which i’ve neglected to buy for quite some time now. By the time of gift-unwrapping i had only imbibed a glass or two of wine, and so i made a trip to the kitchen to ask Ross to upgrade my liquor intake a bit.

That’s where the downward spiral began. About two hours (and four double-strength mixed drinks later) i’m el-trasho.

The road to el-trasho began innocently enough with orange juice, peach schnapps, and orange Grey Goose vodka, but soon thereafter it seemed to involve several of my friends circling the room in clown-sized bicycles and someone starting a huge fight with a large loaf of french bread. A drink later and i was playing power air-chords to Dookie, swinging around a riding crop in the air, and dueting with Kate on vocals. The next drink (a “bullfrog”) found me MC-ing tracks 1 & 3 from The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill in spectacular fashion. Then there was a lot of club music (the dance moves during which may have earned me a death threat from Lindsay). And, then, just when they thought they were safe, i found a copy of The Immaculate Collection.


Let’s just say i still remember all of the choreography to “Vogue.”

Ross was terrified. Kate was stunned. Lindsay was sure i was gay. I was breathless.


After that i might have climbed up the bars on the front window, but the important thing is that i made it home in a coherent state and managed to log on to the internet. Rock on.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/01/8427205/

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I feel like… i don’t know, Third Rock From the Sun? Do you remember at the very beginning of the show when the four of them didn’t understand anything at all? … Taking coats at parties, kissing, slapping, cheerleaders, and breasts? Lately when i go back and look at the archives i just feel like a visitor in the shape of me trying to emulate the behavior i’m supposed to be representing. Is that circular enough for you? The change happened somewhere around when co-op began, because you can tell the difference between the computer being a constant companion and just something to stare at in-between doing things. And then i started doing a few things and talking about them, instead of just talking about not doing anything. And now i do things all the time and have nothing to talk about afterwards.

What’s so interesting about my life, really? Obviously i do things… last night i went to the movies, i can talk about that. I walked to the movie theatre, which is three blocks from my house. In the lobby Laurel was waiting for me (along with her roommate and Jeff (as if i went on a date with Laurel and didn’t mention it (obviously i only mention Laurel because you know who she is at this point))). She asked if i had gotten my haircut and i responded “Not for almost a month.” We saw Monsters INC, which involved a lot of giggling. Afterwards i bought some sushi and talked about X-Men with Erika, who was reading Carrie.

So, there’s two main theories of journaling that i can discern. The one is that obviously my night was pretty freakin’ boring when it comes to reading about it, so i should either talk about something else or learn to do more interesting things. The other is that it doesn’t matter what i’m doing, just so long as i put my own spin on it people will care about reading. I’m not sure which of the two i subscribe to, but my first journaling connection online was the ever-present Gus, who resides wholly in the second school of thought. Gus basically just writes one post a day, each and every single day, and he weaves it all together so that you’re not only interested in what he has to say, but you honestly want to know what he’s doing with himself. Frankly, Gus is one of the only people who employs this technique who i enjoy, the others being Alison and Meg, though they use their narrative voice a little more pervasively.



The way last year had been going for me, i just merrily trolled along with my own script of things to say and would talk about parties and things if and when i went to them because they were typically unusual and exciting. But, at this point, going to a party is like “wow, another party. i wonder who’ll hook up tonight?”, and afterwards i’m always tearing out my hair thinking “how can i tell an interesting story about that lapdance…?” So, now i have a daily existence and i suppose my big question is whether i’m supposed to talk about it, or me, or some other nebulous thing — because back in the day i was talking about my life, but it was a lack of a life, so it was just me talk about me.

Wow, now i’m dizzy. Tell you what… you sit and stare at the screen for an hour thinking about what i’ll write next, and i’ll go get some ice cream. Cool? Cool.

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/11/6976582/

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So, this is as out of order as the rest of my life right now, fittingly, because i got all the way out of New Hope and into the umpteen hundred magic cards on my bedroom floor and skipped Saturday. So, that whole thread on masturbation will have to get resolved later. So.

Saturday.

In Autumn, hardly a week goes by without a party, and having been here for three years i’ve noticed that fall quarter falls into a neatly distributed schedule of nighttime affairs. Welcome Back! for returning people, and then Welcome Freshmen! to meet new girls, and then Kegger (part 1)!, and then Halloween, Supertech, Pre-Play, Cast Party, Post-Play, et cetera ad nauseum. Yes, i am a social fucking butterfly, because i wind up at all of them one way or another. But, anyhow, this past Saturday was Supertech and so we appeared at the corresponding party already quite inebriated from hitting the house liquor from last weekend. At some point before or during the inebriation process i was informed that one of the “new girls” seems to have a little thing for men of my type, so not only was i slightly drunk, i was slightly drunk with a mission!

Point being, not only does someone quite apparently have a crush on me, but she’s, like, sorta kinda really hot. And listens to good music. And has this really hot roommate… oh, wait, didn’t i mention that i had previously declared her really hot roommate the only Freshmen worth flirting with? Such is life. But, rest assured, they’re both really hot.

Please also rest assured that i’m not pulling a Selina on you and that i am, in fact, not currently at this girl’s place blogging around the issue. Here i am, blogging in the issue, tracking it all over my easily locatable page for all to see. Blog blog blog.

So, i don’t know, if she found my portrayal of a drunken lout charming i’m apparently just her type. Heaven only knows what that’s supposed to mean. As soon as i figure it out i’ll tell you…

https://crushingkrisis.com/2001/11/6970405/