I actually had a real post I was working on, but it wasnít that interesting, and then I got a call from the notorious party call crew, which made anything I was going to say just less funny (You can check out their past calls here and here). Also, it makes writing a post much easier, since I mostly just copy down whatever these drunken lunatics scream into their cell phones at me. I actually started out sober, but talking to these people while having any sort of coherent thought is just too terrifying.
So I ended up drinking right along with them, and my brain got all kinds of pissed off at me. My liver kicked me in the balls this morning, and then I think the two of them went out and got some breakfast or something. I remembered who am I sometime around three oíclock this afternoon, and it has taken me until just now to learn how to work my computer again. So thatís why the late post.
Anyways, here are some pieces of the conversation that led me to brain-dead (Iím in italics, just so youíll know which drunken slob is which):
Everyone here wants to meet you.
Because I told them you were really hot.
uncontrollable laughter from both of us
Why is that funny?
more uncontrollable laughter
I think we both know the answer to that.
My shot glass is the size of a large glass, Iím not playiní, and someone just flashed something in my eyes and it blinded me. And it pushed me over, a beer and two chairs and some people and I think a dog.
Wait, what? A beer did this, or a flash?
I did it. I pushed over a beer, and it spilled all over two people and a dog. Maybe a chair, I donít know.
Something happened earlier that was kind of blasphemous, and I thought you might want to hear about it.
Somebody gave me a taser, can you believe it?
Tonight? A taser?
Yeah! I got the safety off because Iím very clever. Little blue lightening, so pretty. But then I was stupid and gave it away, and guess what happened to me then?
Nothiní because I ran. Because I hate pain. A drunk bastard with a taser? I donít think so.
Some things you never get too old for.
To mock retarded people?
No, to be retarded, apparently.
Yeah. Hey, if you tell your internet people about this, be sure to tell them that I love retarded people.
And guess what I have all to myself?
The Jesus ashtray. Me and Jesus were meant to be. I should have my face on an ashtray.
[Just a little extra info: There was an ashtray at this party that had the face of Jesus on the bottom. It said something on the back about how smoking could be harmful to your health and your eternal soul. I heard about the ashtray several times, but I never had enough time to type what it said word for word. I think there was also something about every time you smoke, Jesus cries, but Iím not sure if that was on the ashtray or just another drunken statement made by one of the party-goers.]
I dread reading your website tomorrow.
Yeah, youíll probably feel pretty hellbound, I bet.
I donít want to go to hell.
You need to change your evil, evil ways.
Did you just call me an evil, evil bitch?
No, I said evil, evil ways.
I think God is talking through you, because I heard evil, evil bitch again. God?
Nope, just me.
I was just listening to the masturbation conversation.
To people in the background: Are you guys talking about masturbation over there?
We called information for Eddy Vetter in Seattle. They didnít have a listing, and I thought ďOh, shit, maybe he doesnít live in Seattle.Ē But then we called information for, who did we call information for? I donít know, someone very important. And then, just because we were bored, we called information for George Bush in Washington. The lady goes, do you want just the phone number, or the comment line. Iím all, ďGimme the fuckiní comment line! I got some things to get off my chest!Ē So we called the comment line to the White House. It was closed. It was late on a Friday night. They said call between nine and five.
Basically, Troy Aikman didnít want to talk to me.
I donít blame him a bit, you drunken fool.
He missed out on something great.
I hear that.
9 pm to 4 am, those are MY working hours.
I refuse to believe those are your working hours.
Well, theyíre not. But thatís what I tell my congressman.
Itís cold up here in the Texas panhandle.
I thought you said it was hot.
Yeah, I did. It is. But not hot enough to go outside.
He called them during office hours. And just left this list of grievances. And now I have the White House number in my cell phone, I can call any time I want.
Justin Timberlake is in the air. Thereís Justin Timberlake, and I told the people like what the fuck. Justin Timberlake should die. I hate Justin Timberlake like I hate no other.
Thatís a pretty intense hate.
I hope no one is waiting behind the shower curtain to kill me, because Iíve got to pee. I almost missed the pot.
How do you almost miss? You sit down.
Yeah, I almost missed. So, Justin Timberlake. Everything that is wrong with the world, itís all connected to Justin Timberlake.
You know what? Justin Timberlake could never be Darth Vader. Cry me a river and shit like that. He degrades the very name of music.
Thatís how I felt about Brittany Spears, back when she was degrading music instead of being fat and nasty.
Sheís the exact same thing.
Quit trying to blame me for your blasphemy.
I think it was you.
It wasnít me. You said Jesus called you.
Did he? Did he call me? Did he leave a message?
You need to quit talking about Jesus right now.
And then Jesus goes to IHOP and eats all of his free pancakes.
Jesus gets free pancakes?
Heís the son of God, of course he gets free pancakes.
Wouldnít that be a great world, if I was Jesus?
What? No, thatís just disturbing.
Oh, it would be great to Jesus. Donít you think?
No! AbsoLUTEly not! He died for our sins. He was crucified. He was hammered to a big cross and left to die.
When I said Jesus, I meant more like Jesusí sister.
Do you love yoga? You do?
I didnít say that. I didnít say anything.
To someone in the background: Hey, could you hold this? ĎKay, now drink it!
I might be throwing up this moment.
Boy, do I ever love to just kill myself.
Nothing, whatíd YOU say?
Kurt? With T?
I think itís with a K. Like Spock. Kirk.
from background: Itís with a T.
Seriously? Kurt? And does it start with a K?
from background again: With a C. Curt.
Shit, thatís weird.
Iím the only girl in a circle of four guys, and we all love the cock.
after a few minutes of me listening to some freestyling to the tune of Devil went to Georgia Youíre like some crazy, country, free-style rapper.
Iím all hick-hop, buddy.
Iím alienating. Thatís what Iím doing tonight.
Well youíre doing a fantastic job.
WHATíD you say?
Nothiní. Whatíd YOU say?
I asked this teacher the other day, ďAre you impressed with my stealth?Ē She goes ďAbsolutely.Ē
That was totally bizarre.
You just free-styled a good five minutes of shit about having a radio show, mixing the songs The Devil Went Down to Georgia, that song from 8 Mile, and throwing in random bits from Stand By Me.
singing: Sweet home Alabama! With the world on my shoulders as I run back to this 8 mile road. My nameís Jimmy, but your nameís Ray, Iím making this shit up as I go, I could do it all day!
Your nameís not Jimmy
My nameís not Jimmy, but your nameís still Ray, we should be on the radio so we could talk all day!
Okay, stop it.
singing 8 Mile again: Man, fuck this shit, yo, Iím goiní the fuck home.