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� 04/09/2006 - 2:56 a.m. | IF U LUKY Unofficial St. Patrick�s Day (or �UnOFicIal� as so, so many away messages reminded me) is supposed to be a morning, noon, and night of complete and utter drunkery. It turns out I can�t do anything right. Couldn�t start early, had to work. Then I had to drive Allison to the police station to pay her drinking ticket (a bad idea, that, driving a green sticker car down a street full of malicious drunks decked out in the same color � I believe they were just showing their affection when so many of them gave me the finger, but then a crowbar through the window might also have meant the same thing to them at that point). Then I watched �Family Feud� for a few hours and some other shit happened (Alex came by and talked about a cake), and I was still not drunk. It was reassuring to hear screams and yells every single time I poked my head outdoors, though. This is for future reference: The night will go bad when Nate wants white wine. When that happens, everything is upside down and nothing good will come of it. It seemed like such a good idea, though: so much lighter and sweeter than red, no nasty stains on my teeth, just as drunk, though! But of course I am a cheapass and decided to get a four dollar bottle of the shit. Little Penguin Chardonnay, only a step above Boone�s Farm, in that they use vaguely recognizable grapes and less food coloring. I have not been drinking anything under ten lately, and it has apparently turned me into a pussy bitch, because this shit tasted like cheap vodka and Juicy Juice. I choked it down, though, slowly, playing Freecell and then Solitaire when I got too drunk for that. Shelly was alone and drunk downstairs, a position I forced her into because I like to pregame alone listening to music, and everyone else was strangely vanished. Sleepy and inebriated, she told me she was going to take a little nap and to wake her when I was ready. Unfortunately, I was struck by pretty much the same as her and shortly passed out to Wizard People blaring on my laptop. �Fuck it,� I thought. �Who wants to be with people anyway?� Well, Shelly, for one, for she eventually woke up and came to see why I had not gotten her. She came to my door, whining in a particularly high-pitched tone. I was more than half-asleep at this point, drunk and angry, and I had apparently osmosed the speaking style of the narrator of Wizard People and was using it to great effect to shit on Shelly�s parade. AIM quotes to follow. A lot of them, because I think they are so funny. mrk r azy11: i AM THE MOST DESPARATE OF ATTENTION mrk r azy11: the darma mrk r azy11: Clearly the misfortune and rains are all the blames of others mrk r azy11: There is no cheer on this made uppest of holidays mrk r azy11: Clearly mrk r azy11: a bottle of wine mrk r azy11: Water hates wine mrk r azy11: Smacko is here for the wine I suppose I had had advanced warning that day. I couldn�t stand the sound of anyone�s voice, and I had even announced earlier that the alcohol would only exacerbate my bitchy mood. But did they listen? No, no. Shelly asked me if I really wanted to sit around trashed on two thirds a bottle of wine (Gotta give it to those Penguin people � they made some heady shit. I would have been mad spewing had I made it all the way through) alone on the biggest party night of the year. I said I would be down with that. Clearly, considering this was right before the break-up, the impending doom formed a great deal of my mood: mrk r azy11: and GAIM Smacko arrived and never was a person happier to see another than Shelly for him. She entreated him to help her get me out of bed (although why at this point I can hardly understand � basic human decency, I guess), but I would not budge� that is, until the offer of much free weed was put on the table. I was like Atlas unearthed from the sands of the desert, climbing out of the depths and thrust onto the human stage. No, I don�t know what that means, but I originally had a Pok�mon reference there, and this seemed the lesser of two evils. We smoke up, and while I am just as mean as I was beforehand, at least now I am really, really dizzy. We head back to our place for some more drinks, and it is here that apparently I caused some trouble. Shelly had mentioned some passing interest in trying some weed, and while she was on the phone with Kyle, I pretty much wrenched it away from her and said that he was holding her back (She said she wanted to wait to do it with him, I think?). He got all mad for some reason, and I was pretty confused, so I just started saying that Kyle was on steroids. A lot. I said it a lot or a lot of steroids? Both, I guess, but I started laying out my argument � big muscles, working out all the time, damn short temper. Apparently in listing out this evidence, I said more things I was not supposed to, for then Shelly was in the other room crying, and I did not really understand this at all. Drunk people say shit they aren�t supposed to all the time � I couldn�t count the number of times Kyle has just flat out made up shit � and we all just take it with a grain of salt. Somehow, though, I start spouting retardation and everyone takes it all serious. A double standard is what it is. Apparently the crying was mostly due to the fact that I �hurt her feelings,� which I put in quotes to somehow separate me from the guilt of being an asshole. �Did it work?� Errr. She recovered, though, and the three of us finally went out into the night to seek our destinies. They were all very short destinies. We walked to some party, and it was all way too hipster, and I think might have been a little paranoid, but there was no dancing and the conversation seemed lame, and I was like, �I washed a shirt for this?� And I did, too. We stumbled back home, lamest night ever, entirely my fault, and Shelly made me some Aldi soup that wasn�t very good, but that is Aldi�s fault, not hers, and as I passed out wherever I did, wine hangover to follow, I made a promise to myself that I would make it up to her the next day. Of course, there were some severe flaws to my plan. Everyone else had pretty much gone the normal route and had drank so much for so long that no one was in any sort of shape to go out the next night. As such, our big plans for the evening seemed to be wandering over to Dustin�s for more good old flippy cups. And, you know, I was messed up enough that this almost seemed like a good idea, I was sort of excited, but we got there, and it wasn�t even the normal, boring shit. It was a step below that, five or six dudes sitting around on couches and watching old taped basketball games. I tried to turn around right there, but someone grabbed me and held me to the spot. Shelly used her feminine wiles and managed to get a game of beer pong or something formed from out of nowhere. I sat on the sidelines and tried to coherently mutter something about not needing any more beer, thanks. You stay the fuck away from me, Varnes, is basically what I meant. I was resistant to the whole thing, and bored, and I had Allison pretty quickly swayed to my camp (for obvious reasons), and we were just going to try and quietly sneak out the side and go home, but Shelly noticed, and she grabbed Gautam and Smacko and suddenly the flip cup party that we had so quickly formed was just as quickly destroyed. �Just as it was heating up,� I�m told Dustin said. The delusional bastard. He spoke with Spritz a couple nights later, and I guess he was pretty pissed at me for the whole thing, and considering he tackles me when he�s in a good mood, this did not seem to bode well. Spritz had my back, though, and said that I�d just gone off my �brain medication� and was left a little flighty as a result. I was quite tickled by this excuse and left up an away message for a couple days, �I�m sorry I ruined your party, Dustin � I was off my meds :(� ha ha ha ha ha Honestly, though, man, when the entire welfare of your party is hinged on whether Nathan Patrick Walsh is there or not, you�ve got to fucking wonder, how cool are you, really? [Shelly did once refer to me as the enzyme of the party. If you like, take me in a decent mood and add a good, ridiculous foil, a Smacko or a Kyle, and a fair amount of booze, things will always be entertaining. But, I think this only applies to our little nerd circles. I really doubt they would enjoy my antics at a frat party or a debutante ball. But still � the power! Plus �I am the enzyme of the party� is a pretty good shirt to get beat up in, don�t you agree?] So, we started in the direction of home, vague ideas about an ever lamer goon party on the floor, when we came across some badass kickin� shit on Busey and University. One of Eric Wilson�s parties, I was told sometime later, but all we knew then was that it was loud and crowded and there was pretty much nothing but dancing. Redemption! Now this is what we needed the whole time! I was the only one who came out of the thing unscathed. For the most part, it was nice, friendly dancing, even a little crowd surfing, but they would also occasionally turn on some harder stuff, and the floor would instantly devolve into a moshpit, and it would become a struggle simply to stay upright. Shelly was plowed over into a speaker onto her head, Gautam chipped his tooth on a bottle of beer, and Allison Helm made out with Giovanni. I�ll let you decide which of those three is the worst. Still, it was fun, though. Incoherent announcements were made over a megaphone. One guy, drunk beyond reason, ran around trying to make the party a nude one, tugging off everyone�s clothes as he passed, eventually jumping around with his dong floppin�. All good stuff there. Nothing like being half-naked and crammed together in claustrophobic heat to put a big old smile on your face. No, I�m serious. Unfortunately, Shelly happened to be shirtless at the moment she met Fitz there, giving him fuel to shit on her world and putting her in something of a foul mood for the rest of the night. Gautam and I clung to each other for safety. I tried to avoid this one pair of girls � the hot one trying to force her round one on me. Don�t you realize what a ridiculous combination we would make? Fuck. How did I become approachable to such a class of people? Tell me. I stayed a lot longer than everyone else, but I eventually packed it in when I couldn�t decide if the hot girl I was dancing with kept moving away because she was disinterested or because she wanted me to try harder. Sorry, still don�t get the whole �game� aspect of the whole thing. When Gautam had left, I told him to grab the beer and our coats, which I guess he translated to the beer and the beer. I didn�t learn about this �til much later, though, and then had an awkward stumble into the dregs of the remaining party as I dug around through wet coats. Yuckers. Still, a vast improvement on the previous night, and I can�t remember Sunday anyway. Oh! It occurs to me that that Saturday was the first time I met Omar, driving him and Smacko out for some Hot Wok and giving him a Northstar. I'd been insisting on meeting this Kramer-like neighbor of Smacko's for some time, so really, when you think about it, this is nobody's fault but my own. He seemed fine at first - really, I guess he still seems fine now - but I do remember one little weird thing that should have probably clued me in on the future of our relationship. We were all sitting around eating and watching TV and stuff, and finally it was time to go, so I'm like, "OK, guys, I guess I'm gonna go take a shower now, so you know..." "OK!" he said, but he did not know, or did not act like he knew, because he just stayed right there. Smacko left, I think, but Omar just kept right on lounging in our empty house until I came back out again. There is something a little unnerving about a complete stranger doing that, and I've felt touches of the same thing throughout our brief relationship. Why do I keep using the word "relationship?" Oh, Nate, you homo.
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