To gain some consistently in the regular posting game, my fellow blogger Kendyl and I made a blog challenge to help us stay on track. Writing isn't the hard part. My sadness succumbs easier to this keyboard than it ever does to people. My happiness knows no bounds with a pen in my hand. That sounds pretentious but it's just how I feel. I've written endless paragraphs about the people who I've loved or vice versa, the ups & downs we all face but with our own twists and turns but posting on a public domain about people who it probably wouldn't be too hard to figure out who it's about is the TEA. And that's not what I ever wanted this to be. I have a journal for that mess. Maybe I think too many people would care about who my post is about when actually no one would put that much work in. I DON'T KNOW, but why risk it? I'll save that shit for my memoir. Or I'll save it until someone pisses me off enough.
For the first post in this challenge, I want to tell you about my favorite college party. I'm going to start this with tooting the corefour's (myself, Manolo, Stacy and Kendyl if you are new here) horn. We threw the best parties during our college years. Themed and unthemed, we took the cake.
My junior year of college will probably always be my most memorable. I was living with 3 of my best friends in a stupidly expensive townhouse-esque student living that we loved. We were all working service jobs, active in our student organization that had brought us together, and living that ~college~ dream they always talk about of just work, school and partying. There was a lot of nonsensical drama around that time that if you asked me about now, I would only be able to give you a hazy description of what we thought mattered back then that in reality never mattered at all. The one thing good we did get out of that was each other however. It's ugly, but sometimes mutually hating something/someone brings people closer; I don't make the rules!
Anyway, the party. For weeks, Manolo was working on getting his citizenship to become a full fledged American. Anyone who knows of this process knows how expensive and tedious it is for someone who has literally lived here their entire life, but this isn't a political post. He finally was sworn in as an American so OF COURSE, we took the opportunity to celebrate such a moment in our best friend's life. It was March, but it looked like the Fourth of July when you walked into the American themed party we were throwing in our townhouse.
Everything was red, white, and blue down to the trashcan punch & my socks. At one point, Party in the USA played by Miley Cyrus and I can tell you I won't forget the sound of a house packed with too many underage drunk people singing their heart out. This party was my favorite because it was just different, which isn't a good explanation. I have plenty other parties I can tell you about where I woke up the next morning regretting something I did or said or didn't do or say. I don't about this one. I celebrated my friend, I had enough to drink but didn't hate myself the next morning. Somehow we were never stressed about the money we put into throwing these parties and that itself is a freedom you eventually let go of when you grow up. We had bitchin' pictures and no drama. Wait that's a lie. Someone rando who showed up did punch our friend in the face but she was in such a good space herself that she literally didn't care. She opted out of sympathy for more shots. You just can't repeat moments like this.
Since it would be no good to just have a PLAIN old happy story, I'll leave you with a more funny and bad party for me personally. We threw a new years eve party at our townhouse this same year with a masquerade theme because we were extra before extra was normal. Everyone was in cute dresses and suits and Stacy gave me some wine at the beginning of the night that I continued to down and since I came from the hood, I'd never been wine drunk before. I don't remember much else of the night but I know that I stole Maggie's shoes that night and wouldn't give them back. Dani & Stacy gave me a shot of water at midnight and LIED to drunk Rubi's face about it being alcohol. And there was a lot of pictures to document the mess I was but these below are some more acceptable ones.
I woke up the next morning with the second worst (the first worst hangover I've ever had was my 24th birthday... baby, that's a story for another day) hangover of my life so far and because I was a dedicated Talon and UNT was playing in a Bowl game on New Year's Day, I had to get my hungover ass up and together to go watch the game in Dallas. I puked my brains out in the car on the way there in a bag while my little at the time drove myself and Manolo there (Thanks Paulina). I stood by other screaming Talons cheering and wanted to stab myself in the head but somehow made it thru and got to watch UNT win a Bowl game and have a beautiful moment. UNT hasn't been that good at football in awhile and I was so glad to be apart of that moment even if my body hated me that day.
I'm sure down the line I'll tell you more about these memories because there were so many great ones. And a lot of documentation of each of them. Continuing this blog challenge, I'll be posting EVERY Sunday for the next 10 weeks. Hold me to it!!