New Years Eve 1996
Burning down the house"
My New Years party was supposed to be a slightly more casual affair as compared to last year's uncontrolled bout of drunken debauchery and furniture breaking. I invited about 40 less people this time around in the hopes of a more manageable crowd.
My roommate and I bought six cases of different brands of beer, three bottles of champagne, two bottles of Jack, a bottle of rum, some vodka, tequila, and about six bottles of Pepsi. We picked up munchies galore and even ordered two Sicilian pies, sliced small, to be delivered at about 8:00. We strung Christmas lights all over the house, blew up risqué balloons and stuck them to the walls. We even blew up some condoms and discreetly hid them in various places. I picked up a baby New Year outfit complete with diaper and bib, so I could ring in the New Year in style.
One friend of mine offered to bring a four foot hero, so as to avoid the problems encountered last time with people trying to cook hors d'oeuvres in the kitchen. I figured it would be fine; my roommate and I had already blown two hundred bucks on party stuff, so some extra food would help. He tells me he'll bring the hero, but wants me to pay him for the whole thing, AND that he's bringing a case of Corona, but they're just for him. I was so tempted to tell him to stay home, drink his damn beer, eat his four foot hero, and I'll see him next year, but I was in a good mood, it being the holiday season and all, so I agreed.
My guests started showing up at about 7:00, and at first it was a pretty dead party. Everyone kept asking where the chicks were and complaining that last year's party was better. Gossip started to spread among some friends that I had "acquired" a new piercing, and everyone wanted to know if I would be having a grand unveiling at the end of the night. I assured everyone that there would be no viewing. If they wanted to see what it looked like, they'd have to get one themselves. Let them go through that pain and see how often they decide to flash. Most of them don't believe I got it done anyway.
So, one of my guests is sitting on the couch when the phone rings. Someone picks it up, and it's this other guy's ex-girlfriend. The guy answering the phone knows that there's bad blood there, so he yells out, "Is (blank) here?" Now, half the people present know the story and yell, "No!" But the other half have no idea and yell, "Yes!" So the guy on the phone says, "No, he's not here yet, sorry," and hangs up. She calls back an hour later, and now, with twice as many people at the party, we go through the yes and no yelling thing again. I ask (blank) if he thinks she'll just show up, and he tells me that she doesn't drive and couldn't find the place anyway.
A good friend and Fraternity brother of mine shows up He just became a cop and still carries his gun with him everywhere he goes. We sit down and reminisce. I introduce him to a guy I just met that's a Marine Reservist, and the three of us start talking guns. Of course, they've fired much bigger stuff than me, so I take my leave of them and mingle.
Now, the pizza is almost gone, the hero just arrived, and with it, the case of Corona AND a whole tray of Jell-O shots. Some with Vodka, and some with Jack. I promised myself last year to avoid the Jell-O, but just can't help myself. I'm lightly buzzed when another guy shows up with more Jell-O and a bottle of Jack to donate to the house, and squeezing in right behind him is (blank's) ex-girlfriend, accompanied by this wacko, psycho chick who almost ruined last year's party (and she would have, too, if I hadn't decided to pawn her off on another friend and let her cry to him in the bathroom).
The ex runs into my bedroom where (blank) is hanging out, slams the door and locks it.
My cop friend starts yelling that I should go in there and do something. Like what? Let her kick the crap out of him for all I care, just as long as they don't break anything.
After about twenty minutes of his crying I finally decide to intervene. I key in and find the two of them sitting on the bed talking. No yelling, no screaming, no hitting, nothing. I was actually a little disappointed. I tell them they have to leave my bedroom, didn't want anyone near the computer and all, so they move to the kitchen.
I find my cop friend and show him how nice everyone is playing, and I go back to mingling.
One bottle of Jack is gone, and I'm pretty sure I drank most of it. Along with the Jack Jell-O shots, I'm pretty wasted, but not quite incoherent - thank God for the pizza and the hero. I start heading back to the kitchen to crack open another bottle, when I hear (blank) and his girlfriend screaming at each other. I try to push through the crowd, but everyone is watching intently, looking for blood. She starts smacking him, then grabs his head and starts beating it against the cabinets. I swear I almost fell over laughing; it was the funniest sight you could ever see.
Now, (blank) is not a little guy, and this girl is no waif either, but watching that fight…I would have charged a cover to my party had I known in advance that this was going to happen.
(Blank) turns around; his face is bloodshot, and streaked with tears, and he starts screaming, "Get out of my life!!!" I finally get through the crowd and, with one other guy, break them up. I drag the girl and her psycho friend outside. Once out, I tell her in no uncertain terms that she has to leave; that kind of behavior, while fun to watch, is not what I'm looking for in my house (unless I start it).
She asks me what (blank) told me about their relationship of late. I see nothing wrong with giving that information out, so I tell her that he told me they had broken up months ago. She looks me straight in the eye and says, "Maybe we did, but he never told me."
Ouch! I explain to her that men are scum and that sooner or later almost every guy will decide to break up with a girl and just avoid her until she dumps him. I'm not proud to say it, but I've done it myself. It happens, and unfortunately this time it happened to you.
Now, every time I tell this story, someone asks if I was trying to hook up with this girl by comforting her and being so friendly. To that, I have to tell my real motivation. I was hoping to invite her to my next party, make sure (blank) doesn't know she's coming, and charge admission to see the fight of the century. Yeah, I'm a rude bastard, but to this day people still come up to me saying how cool it was to watch that fight, and how it was one of two of the big events that went on that night.
Now, for the second great event, we have to move to midnight. Whether that was before the fight or after, the jury's still out on. We were all a little drunk and no one can remember.
At 11:50 I run into my bedroom and lock the door. I change into my diaper and bib, throw a Happy New Year tiara on my head, stick my smokes in the waist of the diaper, and run out as everyone is counting down from ten.
I streak through the apartment, chug some champagne, all the while screaming, "Happy New Year!!"
(Baby New Year)
A few people snap pictures here and there, everyone is kissing everyone else. I hand my camera to a friend so I can have a picture of this for my album when all of a sudden I feel a draft and realize I am no longer wearing a diaper. I'm standing, naked, in my living room and suddenly flash bulbs are going off everywhere. I hit the ground, grab the remnants of my diaper and make a B line to my bedroom. All the while people are screaming around me.
I lock the door, get dressed and rejoin the party. I start asking around to try to find out who did it. I have a pretty good idea that it was my one trouble maker friend, but he's denying it. I'm trying my best to look mad, but I'm really not. Looking back on the night, I can see no way that I couldn't have known that someone would undiaper me. Finally, the Marine from earlier confesses to doing it, but admits that the trouble maker put him up to it. I give him the nastiest look, I mean, I hardly even know the guy. In the same breath as his confession, this loser asks me if it's OK for him to crash the night. I tell him it's fine, but not to expect to live to see the dawn. For the rest of the night he followed me around, got me drinks, and called me "Sir" in the hopes of curbing my wrath.
Later in the evening, someone brought a pit bull up to the apartment, and we all sat around blasting music, watching porno's and feeding the dog whatever leftovers we had. Don't think me a pig; the porno was at the request of a few of the women there that night. Sorry, no stories to tell about that.
Some of the pictures have been developed; a few people have threatened to black mail me with them, but once again my luck has held. So far, in all the pictures I've seen, my privates have been blocked, either by my hand, the diaper once I picked it up, or some other object in the fore view.
Of course, I did technically have my grand unveiling, it's just that no one had good enough seats to catch a glimpse. I still haven't finished the roll of film in my camera from that night. Maybe I have the telltale, leave nothing to the imagination shot. If so, that's one of the few pictures of me that will NOT be going in my album.
So, I guess that's the LAST time I ever throw a party….until next year…..
If you have any questions, E-Mail me. Spat@spat-nospam-cave.com