New Year's Eve 2005/06

I've tried to throw maybe 10 parties in my times. 9 of those sucked. Here is the story of the one that didn't.

Ah, December 2005. Just saying the date puts a smile on my face. My senior year of college, generally speaking, was one of the best times in my life. The first semester of my senior year of college was everything that all the others weren't. Drama-free, trouble-free, and nothing but great music, good parties, and fun times. Everything that your senior year should be. And for me, the only year that actually sort of went fucking right.

At the time my parents were renting out a ridiculously nice apartment in Manhattan, while their other ridiculously nice apartment was being renovated. Some old people let them stay there while they went away for half a year. It took me a hell of a lot of convincing and pleading and putting up with a lot of bullshit for them to finally agree that I could have a party there on New Year's. That may have been the biggest mistake of their professional careers.

To make a long story short, the place got absolutely trashed. Here is a rundown of the damages, which totalled more than $2,000 and resulted in a very pissed off older couple upon their return:

-My friend Casa Nova, who I will tell you more about later, puked all over the bathroom, and in the process ripped a goddamn towel rack off the wall while trying desperately to hold himself up as he puked in the toilet. Replacing this rack alone cost somewhere around $500.

-There was Silly String found on the underside of every couch, table, and surface in the house. First of all, it is beyond me that anyone would have the nerve to bring that silly shit to a fucking New Year's party. Second of all, whatever dumbass was using it didn't bother to spray it on the front side of the couches, where we could have easily cleaned it up, but on the underside, where it sat there and wasn't discovered until months later, when the very aggrivated permanent residents turned the couches over. A hefty fine resulted. And the perpetrator for this was never caught. Here's why:

• My party had the friend-of-a-friend mentality, so the large crowd that was there at one point included a number of punk-rock and Persian sketchballs, who had obviously been tipped of the party by people I didn't know. There were several objects missing, which attributed to the rest of the damages.

-And, funniest of all, there were very noticable splooge stains discovered on a treadmill next to my parents' bed in the room they were occupying. I grilled all of my friends for weeks about who had gone in there, until "C-Town" confessed that it was "two punk rock kids". A fair amount of the strangers there were friends of friends of C-Town's sister, who was still in high school, including the couple that had sex on that treadmill. Moral of story: NEVER tell a high school kid you are "having a party". For more on that, watch this.

You may be wondering, since it was my party, where was I to stop all this? That answer, my friend, is the heart of the story. There was a rather slutty sorority girl in attendance. She will be called "Dina". She was a guest of my friend and fellow writer "Phase". And like many of Phase's friends, she got around pretty often. And I ain't talking about Frequent Flyer Miles, if you know what I mean.

So midnight comes around, and then she plants me a big fat kiss. Wow, this girl is desperate. Wait til a couple hours later, when she is lying down on a couch, next to Phase's friend "Dude", when he calls me over. "Dude, come on over here". I thought there was some problem or something. But, he says to me "You gotta check this out", before getting up and pointing me to sit down next to Dina.

Before I know it, this girl is kissing me again. And this kiss was epic. Here's the rundown of how it happened:

-5 minutes into the kiss, I began to wonder why she was showing no signs of resistance, because usually by this point, most girls would have.

-10 minutes into the kiss, I pulled my camera out of my front pocket. I motioned my friend "Kadavir", who was standing nearby, to grab it and take some photos. He happily obliged.

-15 minutes into the kiss, I began to wonder why she hadn't at least kissed back or even moved from her current position in awhile.

-20 minutes into the kiss, I knew something was wrong. I pulled my lips out of her dirty mouth. I stood up and Dina fell into the spot where I had been sitting. HOLY SHIT! Had I just been making out with a PASSED OUT girl for 20 fucking minutes? In some states, that is technically considered rape.

All the while, who knows what was going on in the house, which I was supposed to be in charge of. OK, I just made out with this passed out girl, what can I do? In this case, I just left her there, for any of the sketchballs in the party to take advantage of. I had to get back to regulating this party, and also I had to take a nasty piss. Biggest mistake of the night. As I was waiting in line for my own bathroom, I encountered a very sketchy Persian kid.

I had never met him before in my life, and had no idea whose friend he was. Let's call him "Atta". Because he literally resembled the hijacker who supposedly planned 9/11. He was THAT sketchy. Here is my recalling of the following conversation:

Me: "Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing at my house?"

Atta: "It doesn't matter; what matters is that if that's your girl back there, why the hell are you leaving her alone like that?"

Me: "I'm just going to the bathroom to take a break. I'm going right back to her. But you didn't answer my question. Why the hell are you in my house?"

Atta: "Are you trying to start shit with me? Huh motherfucker?"

Thankfully, as soon as he said that the bathroom door opened and Casa Nova stumbled out, having just covered the entire room with an awful vomit stench. I was too drunk to even notice the towel rack had been ripped off. So I took a quick piss and came out to one of the most horrific sights imaginable. Casa Nova, sprawled all over Dina, his eyes still red from the vomit, essentially sharing my spit. Less than an instant after I was kissing her for 20 minutes.

So what did I do to him in this situation? Beat Nova's ass, like many more masculine guys would have? No. Even I considered that option, but instead I asked Kadavir for my camera back, and documented the whole scene. And according to C-Town, a closer witness, Dina might have gotten a more permanent reminder of Nova's semi-rape. In C-Town's words, "(Nova) was kissing her, then I swear to God, I saw vomit residue, or some substance, come into her mouth from his". Wow, that almost made me vomit just thinking about it.

But the most permanent reminder of the scene came in the form of the photographs that were taken. Within five days of the incident, they were all available to see on The Facebook. I really show no shame in anything. If something happened, it will be documented in the public domain, to everyone else's utter horror and my sick, twisted enjoyment. These were the days when Facebook Photos were a new and fascinating concept, sop I decided to push the limits as far as they would go. My facebook photo album "New Year's Blowout" included two close-up facial shots of me sucking face with the passed-out Dina, and then the capper- a picture of Nova, his body covered in vomit and Silly String, diving right in after me.

Dina saw those photographs and got livid. Let's just say she never wants to have anything to do with me or any of my friends ever again. She is most likely scarred for life. I have no idea of her story since this night, but it most likely involves thousands of dollars of rehab for her drinking habits and psychological counseling for the mental scars me and Casa Nova instilled in her.

Let's just say that my parents will never allow me to throw any kind of party ever again. I have gone against their word and attempted to throw a couple since then, which have resulted in absolute futility (no one showing up), and disaster (a manaical bitch who was not allowed in pulled a fire alarm and ruined my entire party the the following New Year's). Again, for some reason I was not there to regulate.

I guess my days of throwing house parties are over, because nothing will ever top the fireworks that occured before, during, and after New Year's Eve 2005. It will go down as the legendary party, the only one that ever went kind of, in some weird convoluted way, fucking right.

Edit: I have gotten a lot of responses from my old buddies about this story asking as to why I took down those aforementioned Facebook pictures of me and Dina making out, and Casa Nova sprawled all over her. One friend, whom I have not seen in three years, said that taking those pictures down from facebook "goes against everything I stand for, as a character and as a person". Well unfortunately for you guys, I am not THAT much of a sick twisted maniac. The fact that I am even writing these events down in a story for all to see is just about the most badass thing I could possibly do after this whole incident. Like I have said before I am dead broke and in no mood to handle a lawsuit, which "Dina" could easily press upon me if those photos were leaked, and I have recieved several explicit threats from her other male friends who saw the photos. This is not pussying out or a cop-out. I just believe that after all she has been through Dina deserves to have some privacy. I have much more morality and intelligence than many of you guys think.