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When Good Parties, Go Bad...
  When Good Parties, Go Bad...

I went to a party the other day (which is becoming more of a rarity than I’d like, but 'hey ho'). Out here in “the real world” people don’t party as hard as students, which is odd, because they have like thrice the disposable income, but anyway, I digress; I went to this party. I feel I should preface this story with some context: The party was in celebration of one of my friend’s birthdays. The friend in question is an oddly melodramatic man, whom had a habit of throwing paddies, storming off in huffs and giving people “The silent treatment” if they got on the wrong side of his sugar glass temperament. I have known him since the latter years of high school and he and I are now only in fleeting contact, since I left town about three years ago. However, a party invite is a party invite, and I wanted to catch up, also a few good mates of mine were going, so how bad could it be? (Famous last words).

The aforementioned good friends and I decided to gather, pre-party, to obtain intoxicating liquor and I had a fantastic idea for a drinking game, if I do say so myself! The rule: Every time my friend's girlfriend (who is equally as melodramatic, if not worse than him) says something passive-aggressive, you drink; and do so by announcing it with a loud shout of “Whey!”. The only other rule, which was to stop our friend from discovering the true purpose of the game, was if anyone asked what we were doing, we had to make up a rule as cover, and drink to that as well. Messy.

The party kicked off with us, as we were the first to arrive, we set about making awkward small talk while they finished getting ready. After a while, four of my mate's girlfriend's friends arrived, who were the type of people who make the word obnoxious seem humble. As conversation with them unfolded to be about as entertaining as trying to staple your nutsack to a tiger, we sat there and made nice (“Whey!”) or as nice as it was possible to make with those fuckwits. Then, by the grace of God himself, some total strangers arrived and I could go and talk to them instead.

The strangers turned out to be hammered, and hilarious. This one girl was exceptionally drunk and ridiculously stupid, but in the harmless naive way that provides entertainment for the masses. However, my friend's girlfriend had a problem with any girls being there that were more attractive than her (“whey!”), so she swiftly had the drunk girl and her friends 'subtly' ejected from the party. And by subtly, I mean the total opposite. And that at just one hour in, was the pivotal point this party passed from being reasonably good, to base jumping into the precipice of the 9th circle.

At this point, I would like to invite you to reflect on the correct use of a combat knife. Is it:

  • To be used in the heat of battle during the desperation of melee combat? Yes.
  • To be used to open a tin of beans when stuck in the field indefinitely and you’ve lost your can opener? Not strictly, but you would.
  • To be used to threaten four scared drunk girls out of your flat? No... If you intend to use it as such, should you be allowed one? Hell no, you goddamn psychopath.

Imagine how that went down.

After combat wombat's finest had calmed down, we were back to being stuck talking to the twats again, feigning interest in their poor attempts to play drinking games. Time passed at a rate of nothing as I tried increasingly desperately to find an excuse to leave. Then my friend had a massive fight with his missus, she left, he left, she came back because she forgot her phone and her cat, she left again, he came back, got out some BB guns, left, I lost track, woke my friend up who fell asleep about two hours ago and got him to drive me the fuck out of there.

In the end, many valuable lessons weren’t learnt, because anyone who had grown up had already learnt them, and those who hadn’t; just needed to grow up. Simple as. Also, no one did guess the rules, they weren’t smart enough, they just thought we were drinking every time some said “Whey!”. No one had the brains to ask WHY we were saying “Whey!”. Silly buggers.

Immorality.

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Issue 5: When Good Parties, Go Bad...
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