3 Hour Party People

In celebration of a friend's 21st birthday, I drove more than an hour to a foreign apartment complex to spend a little time amongst some real-world people and have some laughs. And possibly drink (my beliefs do allow consumption of intoxicants for special ocassions).

Firstly, the only beverage I'm comfortable with drinking from a glass bottle (other than carbonated soda) is Mike's Hard Lemonade/Limeade. It's a citrus drink, so it makes sense for it to taste bitter. Beer on the other hand, has no excuse for tasting like piss. Saying, "but that's what beer tastes like" only tells me how little you've explored. This is why I'm more a fan of darker brands, such as Guinness.

Now, I am not a heavy drinker, don't drink to get drunk, so even FINISHING a fucking bottle of Mike's is far out of range for me. However, when the birthday boy discovered I had yet to taste "excellent Irish whiskey," he prodded me to have a meager shot.

Let me say, holy fuck.

When they say that stuff burns, they aren't shitting hyperbole. I didn't sputter, choke, or gag, but the sensation of drinking this whiskey was worse than any Listerine or boiling acid I had ever gargled (acid keeps the CIA implants quiet).

I could also tell how people drank this to "keep warm." Drink whiskey and you'll be jumping around naked when it's twenty below.

Other than those two drinks, all I consumed at the "party" (really too tame to call it that, but whatever) was some greasy chips and the delightful chocolate pastry we dubbed the "Erotic Nipple and Bukakke Cake."

Some time early on, we were informed by the party host of our cars being towed for loitering in apartment resident spots, instead of the six FILLED spots that were Visitor's Parking. Apparently the fine folks at Mercer Oaks didn't feel any residents would have many guests after dark.

As a half dozen people rushed to save themselves from hefty fines and inconvenient bureaucracy, I deftly jumped between my car and a man holding a flashlight looking for parking stickers. Ha ha, you scavenging fuck, no capitalizing off me tonight!

Meeting up in an Old Navy parking lot close by, we waited for the host to arrive and take us back to the party. One member of our expedition team noted, "the fact that they do that is so gay. Gayer than gay. That towing policy is gayer than I am." The man knew gay, and I was inclined to agree with him.

After everyone had tasted enough spirits, mostly through the magic of Roulette Shots, we spent the last hour sobering up and making idle chit-chat about the drink coasters that lit up when you placed a drink on them, producing a psychedelic light show for our entertainment.

Eventually, I called it a night, got shuttled back to my car and began the long drive home.