I thought nothing could top the insane sequence of drunken events accredited to my roommate David the night the group went to the Erasmus party at le mix nightclub. I was wrong. Right now I'm not sure if I should be understanding or really pissed off. I guess there's no better place to begin than the beginning…
I have been wanting to go out all week. It's an undeniable fact that the inhabitants of la maison have slowed down in outings, partying, and the like. Probably because of the amount of weekend trips that people are taking. I don't care. It's Thursday and I want to go out. David agrees. Naturally. No one else wants to go. It's raining. Apparently, they are descendents of the Wicked Witch of the West. Whatever.
It's now Friday. Oui, oui. Everyone left in la maison agrees to go out. Sweet! It's dinner and we're deciding where to go. David suggests Queen then changes his mind when someone tells him it's a gay club. He has a motto, you see, "Girls dance. Guys dance because girls dance and guys want girls." I want to go to Plage. 15 euros cover but it's supposedly bitchin'. The girls want to go to the traffic lights party at the stadium down the street. I suddenly don't want to go out. i sort of think this party sounds shitty and cheap. Apparently it's going to be filled with ghetto kids from the suburbs. I don't want to be knifed. I convince myself to be Mr. Brightside as per usual and go with it.
Btw: a traffic light party is where you wear green is you're single [go], red is you're in a relationship [stop], and yellow... uhh... proceed with caution? i don't know what in between for relationships means. i decide i'll wear yellow. i don't think i have a yellow shirt.
I find my Panda shirt. It's dark olive. Too close to green. I wear a white t-shirt, a black vest and ankle boots with my khatis. I hate my outfit. Whatever. We're going to a traffic lights party. Fuck it. I feel feverish and am running late. No time to pre-drink. I run up to Celidh's room. Wow. The girls look amazing. Each and every one of them is looking drop dead gorgeous tonight. Everyone is still pre-drinking. David can chug champagne. I hate carbonated drinks. I still don't pre-drink. I hate my outfit.
Ali, Caitlin, Celidh, Abby, Katrina, David
We walk to the stadium. We go in two groups. I wait for the other guys. We look inside. The room looks like a high school dance from a music video and there's no one in the room… What the fuck. David gets pissed off and wants to leave. He's already slurring. The security guard yells at me in French and tells us to wait outside if we're not going in yet. We're searching for the other club. Martin's phone has GPS. How sick is that? Or maybe this is common… I'm not very technological. Or logical.
A group of chicks pass us. We decide to go now. The girl collecting cover is so sexy. She smiles at me. «Bonsoir. » I notice there are stairs and don't fall. The place is still dead. We meet the girls. Katrina is loving the ridiculousness of this. I compliment her and Celidh on their outfits. Celidh is so Lindsay Lohan tonight" or so Katrina says. She admits to being obsessed with celebrity gossip. No one is dancing. I don't want to take off my jacket yet. I hate my outfit. I walk up to the bar and order a Screwdriver. «Vodka et jus d'orange» I say remembering that French bartenders not only cannot mix drinks but do not know their names. I have to buy a coupon first. I do. A gay guy in a super tight red spandex t-shirt asks me I speak English. « Non, un billet pour la hard liquor, s'il vous plaît. » Too creepy. Plus there was definite B.O. I get my drink. I drink my drink. A girl at the bar asks me if my eye colour is real. I smile and walk away before I get poked in the eye again. I find my friends. Samantha is teaching Martin how to grind. This is not a pretty sight. Ali is laughing. I couldn't help but do so now. I decide to get another drink. The girls we saw go inside before us are crazy. They're now gliding across the wooden dancefloor like speed skaters. I want to cry. So I have another drink. Everyone is looking at Ken. Sam is drunk. She dropped Ken's beer on the floor. Don't worry. David felt Sam up to make things better. The two continue to grind to the semi decent music which is beginning to play. Abby runs towards us as Britney's "Toxic" start with that recognizable melody. Abby dances like no one is watching and I mean no one. I love her for it. Ali says I should start dancing. She says "I know you have it in you". "Clearly," I think. "Did I not outdance everyone at the last three clubs we went to, bitch?" I decide to put my coat into coat check. They have no hangers. They put my coat into a plastic bag and labelled it then tossed it into a massive heap of plastic bags. I hate my outfit and it is now exposed for all of the clubbers to see. What the fuck am I thinking? These people are clubbers. Half of them are drunk already and a few have joined in with the speed skating psychos. I decide to go to the toilettes. Maybe if my hair is bitchin', my outfit won't matter as much. Line up. I meet David. He's drunk. We speak in French. Well, Franglish. I decide to wait in line to pee. I didn't have to pee. Oh well. My hair looks great. I hate my outfit. I walk across the dancefloor. People are dancing. Some quite well. I'm impressed by an Asian dude. "Billy Jean" comes on. People go insane. I decide to watch for this one. I feel like I'm being a snob so I dance. Just make the most of the night! David is mauling Sam. She's enjoying every moment. Katrina wants to talk photos. We take a zillion. I think I'm going to be permanent blinded. The flash, I mean. Some guy keeps trying to grab Abby's ass. I intersect. Ali is impressed. Repeat. We dance more. David kisses Sam. Finally. The girls freak out. Abby and Ali decide to leave.
Ali and myself are attacked by Katrina
Celidh, Caitlin, Katrina, Martin, Ken
Katrina is a pimp. Hem.
A random sketch decided to fall in love with Abby at coat check.
Ali and Abby are leaving early.
I want a cigarette. Katrina and Caiti go to the toilettes. The Caitlin is dancing with Ken. Martin and Celidh are dancing together. David and Sam… are somewhere. I dance by them. I hate my outfit. I want a cigarette. This whole dancing by people thing feels awkward. Some guy tries to punch Martin. Martin's friends attack the guy. I hate my outfit. I want a cigarette. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling at all. I ask Ken where David is. He doesn't know. I assume by the bar. Katrina and Caiti come back. Katrina has no cigarettes on her tonight. I hate my outfit. I want a cigarette. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling at all. I want to leave. I can't see Katrina or Caiti anymore. The guy tries to fight Martin again. Celidh falls. I like her shoes. The sex.
We all continue to dance as the music gets more Euro beatesque. I hate my outfit. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling at all. I decide to sit but there's no where to sit so I lean against a support beam. The girls beside me standing at the wall are laughing at this guy in a striped hoodie who is really into the song… too into the song for his own good. I smirk at their laughter. It's a shame they aren't dancing. I mean, they're laughing at the guy spazzing out on the dancefloor but they're those girls. You know, those girls who stand against the wall at high school dances. Hoping a "cute" boy will choose them to slow dance with. That's what this is. It's not a club event. It's a fucking high school dance. Hence my awkward emotions. Ick. I hate my outfit. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling at all. This is a high school dance. I want to leave.
Celidh falls again. Martin helps her up. She's tipsy. Caitlin is drunk and hangs onto Ken's barely-there bod for dear life. Where the fuck is Katrina and Caiti? I hate my outfit. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling at all. This is a high school dance. I want to leave. This overwhelming uncontrollable feeling of uneasiness overcame me. I knew I was thin. This was no surprise but I never saw it as a bad thing. I just always accepted it as a fact of life. I am a waif but a healthy waif. I don't diet. I eat more than the average person… more than almost anyone I know. But I suddenly feel disgusted. Especially by my thin wrists. I put my hands in my pockets. It helps. For a minute. No more. I hate my outfit. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling at all. This is a high school dance. I want to leave. Correction: I am leaving.
I walk across the floor. I meet Javir. We wish each other. He walks with me. He is distracted by a blonde girl. I don't bother to say goodbye. I meet Martha. She's cut her hair. I preferred her with long hair. Her choice. She speaks to me in Italian and then remembers I don't speak Italian. Switches to Franglish. I tell her I'm leaving. She asks "Why so early?" I tell her, "I've been at this dance… I mean, club too long."
I go to coat check. I hand the guy my ticket. He seems confused and starts searching through the bags. I see two girls looking through the piles of bags. Caiti and Katrina. What the fuck? They've lost Katrina's coat. They're making her look for it herself. The guy puts down my ticket and talks someone else's. «Je m'excuse, monsieur. Mon manteau? » He ignores me. I hate my outfit. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling at all. This is a high school dance. I want to leave. I can't leave because this stupid motherfucking idiot can't find my coat. The French girl next to me has a fit and bitches out the coat check guy. He finds my coat. Katrina finds her coat. Martin collects Celidh's coat for her. I hate my outfit. This feels awkward. I don't like this feeling at all. This is a high school dance. I want to leave. I am leaving.
I can't find David. Ken and Caitlin are still somewhere around so David and Sam can just leave with them. It's pouring when we get outside. At least we're leaving. Celidh loses her left shoe. She falls onto the ground when trying to pick it up. Hilarious. I joke about David and Sam disappearing and how I hope they better not be having sex in my bed.
We get back to la maison. I'm wet but glad to be home. I unlock my door, turn on the lights, and see David in his boxers breathing heavily over Sam in his bed. I turn around and slam the door. LOLOL This, my friends, was possibly the funniest thing to have happened during the entire time I've been in
"Oh! What a night..."
[that was for you Miss. Caitlyn Craig]
Please note: that is my mattress on Celidh's floor because my room turned into the Love Shack for the evening.
This morning: I awake up. I keep thinking about how awkward I felt last night. I go back to my room. David is gone. So is Sam. The room doesn't smell like sex. I feel frustrated. I hate that I am so thin. I look in the mirror. I have my usual the morning-after look. I think it's the only time when I'm actually satisfied with the way I look. I know. That sounds weird. The bad thing about the morning-after look is it gets washed away by the time you shower. It has such a short life span. I am feeling slightly dehydrated. I'll drink milk but first reach for my last Evian bottle. It's empty. What? I had one left. I'm sure. I have a good memory. I remembered exactly what happened and am retelling this entire story to you, after all. He drank my last Evian bottle. HE DRANK MY LAST EVIAN BOTTLE. Argh.
Which brings me to what I was saying at the beginning of this blog… I'm torn between being understanding or being pissed off. He drinks my champagne. He never buys the toilet paper. He finishes my butter. He masterbates in the sink. He uses the coat hooks to hang all his scarves. He leaves the balcony door open when it's freezing. He put spoiled cheese in the fridge and it's left a distinct smell whenever we open the door. He's always drunk. He eats chips in the bathroom. He takes forever to choose his clothes when we go out. But yeah, I think I'll be understanding. When push comes to shove, I guess he's not so bad.
Fin. (:
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