January 03, 2005

Clock strikes twelve hey don'tcha feel so well

Oh man, internet. You missed a doozy of a New Year party at the ol' Derb.

At 8:00 the evening of, we were a little worried that making punch for fifty had been a bad idea, since we couldn't figure out who of our friends had said they'd come. Roxy and Max had crepe-papered both the front rooms in black and off-white, we were all dressed in maximum spangle and we finally just decided that even if nobody came at all, we'd still dance our sparkley asses off together and drink knockout punch for the next week.

We shouldn't have worried. Tons of fun folks showed up, drank, danced, sang Happy Birthday to our New Year Baby Max, kissed on the porch, got stoned, got sick in the bathroom, spilled punch on the floor. By 10:30 we were making a second batch of knockout punch and I was doing that awesome thing where I dance with abandon for 15 minutes and then cruise through the rest of the party winking and pointing at people, "heartcha", occasionally wearing a mask and accidently sticking myself in the eye.
All in all an absolute success. But you want to know the best part?

People started showing up at 9:30 like we asked, so I was still sober and collecting coats and greeting guests when motherfucking TINY ROOMATE walks through the door. Totally unexpected (she didn't let *anybody* in seatown know she was coming), I kind of lost my shit for a second and whooped and cried. You've gotta give me a break though, because I haven't seen her since she left NY last summer. She was the best damn new year present ever.

I was busy doing drunken dance-gymnastics most of the night, so I didn't end up taking many pictures, but I'll wrap it up with me and Alisha A well after midnight.

smilesnthumbs.JPG

Posted by Sonya at January 3, 2005 01:49 PM
Comments

I love this picture (a) because I love this picture, and (b) because it looks like Krebsie has passed out and you're sitting on him. Which (...now that I think about it) may, in fact, be true.

Damn fine party, yo.

Posted by: mols at January 4, 2005 04:34 PM

Ah yes, "the bathroom incident". From now on, Krebsie is going to have to learn to moderate himself if he wants to drink my bourbon.

Posted by: KING COMTE I at January 4, 2005 05:50 PM

Ha! I didn't see that until you pointed it out! They're totally sitting on Krebs' unconscious form.

Posted by: flamingbanjo at January 4, 2005 06:15 PM

you guys are so damn cute! sorry i couldn't join ya.

Posted by: logan at January 5, 2005 08:20 AM