New Years Eve turned out to be more terrifying than magical, but only to the outsider looking in. To us, we felt that our imaginary party surpassed magical. We all got pretend wasted and fake made out with one another at midnight. If it had been real, we would all still be on bed rest with mono. Yeah. And of course there was that game of musical underwears. It got weird in all the right places.
Everyone who attended had their own special time at the party. None of the guests remember a lick of the evening, but luckily I had a camera hidden in that bonsai tree everyone kept trying to eat, so that we could all relive it. Hold on to your aspirin.
After La La and I linked our arms in a fancy fashion and did a get-the-party-started-shot out of some vases she found lying around, the first guests started to arrive. First was none other than Rich, Twindaddy, and Calahan who all arrived riding a tandem bicycle. They looked dashing. Especially Rich, who already had a margarita in one hand and a package of depends in the other. He thought it would be funny. It was. After all, we did instruct guests to bring a change of underwear.
Before Twindaddy could even set up the YouTube streaming videos of people doing the stanky leg, we heard a discerning clatter coming from the back yard. Or the roof. This one I am hazy on. It was David Stewart, of course. His homemade helicopter was painted in purple animal print. At first we were confused, but then Renee hopped out screaming, “Sir Mix-A-Lot is getting a run for his money tonight!”. That made more sense and was refreshing to hear.
Speaking of refreshing, as more guests started to arrive we all started coming up with drink concoctions. Emily set up a drink stand in the kitchen that had a sign reading, “Enhanced Lemonade” with a winking smiley face drawn on it. Le Clown later broke this sign in half using only his nose. He didn’t even smudge his new clown make-up.
Sarah brought plenty of tequila which me and La La hoarded all night, and Cathy and India brought some other inferior liquors. Just kidding. No liquor is inferior. And Cathy, I had no idea you could down a gin and tonic through Adam‘s beer bong like that. Impressive. Good thing JackieP was on standby with the water to hydrate us all, until she found the room with the clapper light and disappeared for the rest of the night.
We didn’t just drown ourselves in booze. There was also a feast. It had resemblance to the imaginary feast in the movie Hook.
Vyvacious brought some gourmet batman looking stuff to the table which started a chain reaction. Everyone started whipping out their treats. Not those kinds of treats. Adam
is brought a cheese ball. Lori brought an edible insect that I stayed away from, because I wasn’t sure what it was. I ate Weeb’s desert instead. She got kind of mad. To top it all off, I found Lauren frying chicken in the kitchen with mmkng (hello, hello kitty underwear!). They were whispering to each other, “Be vewy vewy careful” and snickering madly.
Suddenly, about ten till midnight, the famous bromantic couple Brother Jon and David Harding busted through the door. Brother Jon brought the ultimate party platter of bagel bites, pickles, and pizza rolls, and David had everyone fist dancing simultaneously. Naturally, but very unnaturally. He was also chanting something about giants ruling. The only one not fist dancing was Amy. She was swaying in the wind like a willow.
As the clock struck twelve, and I frantically searched for Calahan, Le Clown raised his sparkling water to which everyone fell silent. He made a toast that was too beautiful to be translated. Or, I am just rusty on my French. We all had a moment of silence for the absent Jillian and Ridicuryder who decided it would be bad for his abstinence to show up to a party with women, booze, and underwear celebrations.
Then everyone became one.
I slipped out of the kissing cluster just in time to find Calahan, who was nuzzling in the corner with Jack and humming the tune of All By Myself . I didn’t dare interrupt him.
As guest finally started making the trek home, I made sure to warn everyone not to disturb Maddie who passed out on the front yard sidewalk with Moses’s tie on. As the number of party people dwindled, La La and I took a much-needed seat on the front porch. As I lit my last cigarette, we saw Carrie and Jules stealing the tandem bicycle. They had a large bag tied to the back.
Just before they turned out of sight, I watched three identical thinking crowns fall out of the bag and skip across the asphalt. “So much for the party favors” I though, just before I gave in to sleep.
Bonus: LaLaBec Productions Out Take
- Becca and La La’s New Year’s Eve Celebration (25tofly.com)
Some friends just stick. Sometimes those friends actually live outside of the computer screen. “Blasphemy!”. I can hear you thinking it already, but it is true. This post is testament to that. When I first met Z, I was convinced that he was going to set our classroom on fire. Marketing 101. College. His head phones and blaring Tech N9ne were essential to his wardrobe and my uneasiness. Little did I know, he wasn’t actually a murderer but one of my future best friends.
Some friendships are cosmic. He paid me in beer to say that. Part of the deal was also for me to give him some of my spotlight. So without further ado, meet my friend “Z”…
Well hello there! Becky (editor’s note: fuck you) has asked me to step in and fill in some space due to her recent episode of writer’s block. I offered her a couple hits of acid and the leprechauns that do my typing for me, but she refused. I’m not sure why she denied my offer though. Those four creepy little dudes have kept me employed the last three years and even earned me a 2.31 GPA throughout college. Fancy, I know.
Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Z. Well at least that’s what she named me on here a few times anyway. I’ve been called worse. I am originally from Smackover, Arkansas. Dead serious. Google it. It sucks, I know. But before my recent relocation to the great shit hole of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, the two of us shared roughly 572,890 pitchers of beer together.
I shared with her my knowledge of billiards and was even the third wheel through the entirety of a yearish long relationship of hers. If it wasn’t for her, I would probably be sober. Yes, my life would suck if not for this lovely blonde! (editor’s note again: redhead now dumbass).
Up until recently, I didn’t even know her blog existed. For some reason I had to stalk her on Facebook just to learn this hidden writing talent of hers. But now I understand why we have always texted and only ever spoken on the phone once in our multi-year relationship. And that was more awkward than some random non-blogger dude making an appearance on some chick’s highly popular blog.
When she first asked me to write a guest post, I will admit I giggled with a slight evilness. I thought, “How witty can I be?” and “Oh the people I can piss off with my political views!”. Then I realized she would just delete my post and ban me from the internet, which would cause a riot with the leprechauns. Not worth the risk.
So instead, I must confess to the masses how blessed each of you are to sit right where your rear is currently placed and enjoy reading the very thoughts and ideas that I have been graced with throughout my friendship with Miss Long Johns herself since some time in 2009. I check for new posts quite frequently now, due to the lack of our shared time together. It’s all I can get. She won’t come visit me anymore. Thanks to y’all.
I think I have babbled enough, and her head is probably slightly swollen after reading these kind words. It’s been a pleasure occupying roughly 3-27 minutes of your time. Who knows, maybe one day she will allow me to post something witty and political. Maybe not political but at least witty.
P.S. Her cats are evil. Between Ace, Jack, and my cat allergy, I am surprised I never woke up cross-eyed after drunkenly passing out on her couch all of those nights. Then again, it could have been those three-month old leftovers I always took off of her refrigerator’s hands. Who knows…
Stay tuned tomorrow for the recap of the LaLaBec New Year’s Eve bash. Because you know you don’t remember. Please leave a nice comment for Z while you wait. My writer’s block thanks him and you.
- Lee Corso is a leprechaun (sbnation.com)
- Networking : Friends (bbroseproductions.wordpress.com)
- Single People Are Not the Enemy (singlewhitechristian.wordpress.com)
Good morning there puppets.
I simply wanted to write an update post today. I have been busily working on several projects for the up and coming year. One of them involves ventriloquism. One of them also involves a men’s urinal. What a combination, right? Those are the only hints I can give.
This weekend, be on the look out for the duo vlog from me and La La. There is something in it for you. We also think in the video, so you really don’t want to miss it.
On the morning of January 4th, my second article will go live on The Indie Chicks. It’s about that Color Run I didn’t actually run a while back, but it is also about expectations versus reality. I think we all can relate to that. Oh, and there is mention of slip-n-sliding so now you are required to read it.
There will be no fancy new blog theme for 2013. My blog avoids aesthetic improvements… much like your mom. Did you see that “your mom” joke that just happened? Soak it up.
The end of this year has been really fun. Money was raised, there were shout outs galore, vlogs, blog parties, contests, special friendships, a few power couple formations, and I spontaneously combusted on ACOF. Read the rest of this entry