The Biggest Party I've Ever Been To... At My House.

Those of you who were there, and that's a lot of you, will know exactly what night I'm referring to.  Wednesday, August 4th, 2010. 

*This is a longer post.  It's in five parts:

1. The Planning

2. The Party Itself

3. The Aftermath

4. Dad comes home early

5. That time I stole $200 from my father because I was a spoiled brat who always got my own way.

ENJOY!

Part 1 - The Planning

Daddy was in New York, Mommy was in India.
My thought process in the days leading up to the party: "Parents aren't even in the country.  Obviously I'm going to throw a party.  But not just ANY party - the BIGGEST PARTY ANYONE HAS EVER BEEN TO!" 
That summer, I had thrown a few parties, but none of them exceeded 40ish people.  Plans were set - I texted every contact in my phone.  Told coworkers at Wendy's.  Created a facebook event for it in which I invited everyone within a two hour radius of Bridgewater.  This was going to be big.
And you know what.
It was.
I prepared well - I moved all breakables and valuables out into the garage, just to be safe.  Signs declaring "off-limits" decorated several doors all over the house.  I purchased liquor (I don't even remember how, I was fucking 16), but was responsible enough to decide I wouldn't drink until I got a feel for how busy the party actually turned out to be.  My mother texted me from India saying she heard I was throwing a party... I denied her suspicions.

Part 2 - The Party Itself

Some close friends came early.  Then everyone else started pouring in.
I would estimate that over 200 people came to my house last night.  Here's a rundown of the, well, highlights of that night:
- I didn't end up drinking.  By 9:00pm I decided it was already out of control and stayed sober.  All night.
- Some bitch threw a bunch of beer bottles in my driveway.  One of my supervisors from work chased her down with a shovel, her boyfriend beat up the boyfriend of the girl doing the throwing.
- A group of guys from Maine (yes, as in the STATE) showed up.
- There were many fights.  Most notable, one that took place on the back of my father's truck.
- I had to leave the party briefly to take my friend Jessica to the hospital, due to her stepping on glass from the bottle-throwing bitch from before.
- OBVIOUSLY, the police came.  Cars were lined up and down my entire street.  It was only a matter of time.  I wouldn't let him inside unless he had a warrant (proud of myself!) but he stuck around in the driveway to make sure nobody drank and drove.
- When the cops were there, my friend Norma told me about this girl who she was hiding from the cops with, who couldn't get caught drinking - she was already on probation.
- I think a lot of people had a lot of sex in the guest rooms.  I changed the sheets the next day.

Part 3 - The Aftermath

Holes were punched in the upstairs hallway wall.  I made the mistake of letting people wear shoes inside... aka, the living room carpet was disgusting.  An end table laid in pieces on the floor.  Every towel in the house had been used by people who went in the pool.  Every towel, that's like 100 towels (we had a lot of towels).  Most of said towels littered around the yard.  Bottles, cans, everything, just everywhere.
Essentially... the house was trashed.  Dad would be home in three days.  It was time to get to work.
I loaded all the glasses in the dishwasher.  Once it was full, a very hungover girl came in and washed the rest by hand.  Loved her.  Friends scoured the yards, collecting trash, bottles, the shovel my supervisor used to chase the bottle thrower, and the towels. A friend who worked at a hardware store got me discounted supplies to fix the holes in the drywall, then proceeded to fix them for me.
I had spent nearly 30 straight hours cleaning the house, then had to work for 6.  While I was at work, some friends went to the house and scrubbed the kitchen and dining room floors.  I have great friends.
The next day I called in professional carpet cleaners, who said they were available to come in that afternoon... thank god.  Dad would be home the next day - the end of the cleaning process was in sight, and I knew I would be able to finish before he got home.
As the carpet cleaners cleaned, I was out sorting the hundreds of bottles and cans that we had collected.  THAT'S WHEN DAD CAME HOME A FULL FUCKING DAY EARLY.

Part 4 - Dad comes home early

The house still wasn't fully cleaned... there was really no hiding what had happened.  For God's sake, there were HIRED CARPET CLEANERS IN THE LIVING ROOM.  Once they left, and I shelled out the money to pay them, dad yelled for like 45 minutes then declared he was taking a nap.
Well fuck him I thought.  I spent nearly 200 dollars on the aftermath of this party.  The house was actually pretty SPOTLESS.  It was CLEANER than it was when he left for New York.  LIKE FUCKING HELL I'M OUT TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!  I did what any spoiled, over-entitled sixteen-year-old would do.

Part 5 - That time I stole $200 from my father because I was a spoiled brat who always got my own way.

I'm not really proud of what I did here.  It was three years ago, so... whatever.  I'll tell ya.  He still doesn't know about this.
He took a nap because yelling apparently tired him out.  I was enraged - I was the one who should be tired, I just threw the biggest party anyone has ever been to, cleaned NON STOP, and on top of everything, WORKED!  I deserve reimbursement for my hardships.  
My friend who helped me fix the walls came over.  Dad was deep in his slumber.  My plan was set in motion.  I went into his room.  Opened his wallet.  Took out his debit card.  He woke up. 
"What are you doing!" he growled.
"Uhh... nothing," was my brilliant response.
*incoherent babbling from a sleepy Mark Power*
He went back to sleep.
I took the card into Bridgewater with my friend.  Withdrew the $200 I felt entitled to.  Bought my friend and I supper with the card.  Then went home, and put the card back in his wallet.
Vindication.

The next day, I had to work.  I looked out the drive-thru window to see my father storming into the store looking like he's going to kill someone.
He asks the manager to speak to me... I go up to the counter.
"DID YOU TAKE MY DEBIT CARD!?!?!"
"Um, no?  Why would I take your debit card?"
"WELL IT'S NOT IN MY WALLET, SOMEONE MUST HAVE STOLEN IT AT YOUR PARTY"
At this point, I strongly resisted the urge to call him a fucking idiot and point out that he had his wallet IN NEW YORK WITH HIM, HOW WOULD ANYONE STEAL IT?  But I bit my tongue and instead...
"Well... did you even use it in New York?  Maybe you put it in a different pocket by accident?"
"Oh... one second."

He looks on the other side of his wallet.  I had put it on the wrong side by mistake.  Before I could say anything, he goes: "oh, here it is.  I must have put it here while I was travelling, and then forgot!"

Beautiful.

ANYWAY!  If you read this, that's the story of the biggest party I've ever been to, and it was at my own house.  I never throw a party that big again, and a word of caution for anyone thinking of throwing the "party of the year" ... don't do it.  Just don't.

why winter sucks and why you can't convince me otherwise

In case you haven't noticed, it's fucking cold outside.  Like, REALLY cold.  I almost started crying walking out to my car because that's how cold it was... the only thing that stopped me was the fear that my tears would instantly freeze, causing my eyes to freeze shut.

Anyway, here's why Winter sucks!

1. Driving.
For those of you who don't really know me, driving on less-than-perfect road conditions is one of my biggest fears.  I have winter tires and a shitty fucking car that stalls all the time reasonably well-functioning vehicle, so there shouldn't really be any fear, right?  WRONG.  The slightest slide sends me into a fit of near panic - never mind the fact that I don't go over 20km/hr when it's even a little snowy or icy.  People driving too close to my car when the roads are shitty get on my nerves too - what if they lose control of their car, slide into my cautiously driven car, and KILL THE LIVING FUCK OUT OF ME?
Another major annoyance is wind my windshield is frosted up from the cold... taking an eternity to defrost, of course.  This makes me late, wastes my gas, and causes me to slowly freeze to death waiting in my car, as it hasn't had the chance to heat up yet.

2. Temperature.
I've said this time and time again - I would honestly rather be uncomfortably hot than uncomfortably cold.  I've said this while I'm in sweltering heat in the middle of July - "you know... as shitty as this is, it beats being too cold any day."  You know why?  Cold physically hurts.  Heat is just uncomfortable.  I don't think "too hot" has ever caused me to feel physical pain (in terms of weather, obviously touching the stove or anything to that effect would hurt).  Too cold is the most painful thing imaginable IMO.

3. Everyone is sick.
Who get sick in the summer?  No one!  (Well, that's not entirely true, but still, look around - how many people do you see with the sniffles now when compared with July?  Exactly.)


and here's Why you Can't Convince me Otherwise

1. I don't ski.
Or snowboard.  Or skate.  Or go sledding (though I admit, that one is pretty fun).

2. Hot chocolate is still good any month of the year.
Do I enjoy hot chocolate on a hot summer's day?  You bet your ass I do!

3. Snow isn't pretty.
GRASS is pretty.

The Hangover

Imagine if you will, you've fallen in love with a young maiden named Caroline.  She was sweet, beautiful, and brought joy and passion into your life for one night.
Now imagine you wake up in your own puke on your bedroom floor.  Caroline robbed you of give or take $40, beat the living shit out of you, and probably gave you a concussion.  She partially undressed you and put your cat in the sink.  She hid your phone in a different room of the house.
Caroline was gone, but she left you with a horrible STD.

Now replace 'Caroline' with 'vodka' and 'STD' with hangover.

Probably the biggest downside to drinking (besides financial difficulties) is the lingering effect the morning after.  If you're like me, you don't generally get too hungover.  I can function enough to go about my day (with minimal complaining).  I might throw up once or twice but generally speaking, my hangovers aren't too bad.

That is, unless I black out.

Those of you unfamiliar with blacking out... it's like being a little kid, when you'd fall asleep on the couch and your dad would carry you to bed.  You'd wake up with no fucking idea how you got there.  Same idea, only more embarrassing.

My favourite...
Summer 2011 - waking up at a friend's house (the house I pre-drank at, within walking distance of the destination.  I wasn't too alarmed or surprised, just relieve to make it home in one piece).  It wasn't until much later that I learned the truth of what happened to blackout Dallas.  My friend Taylor filled me in...
On her walk home the previous night, her and her friends took the shortcut in Bridgewater from the suburb-y area down behind the Dairy Queen.  On their walk down, they stopped, abruptly.  They saw a body.  At this point in the story, I interjected to ask if it was a dead body.  She responded with "I thought so... but then we got closer... and realized... it was you."
YEP, I was found behind the Dairy Queen, unconscious. After trying to run from the people who were only trying to help me, they through me in a cab and sent me on my way.

Although I don't get too hungover... you should meet my friend - we'll just call her "that DRUNK girl!"  Following a night on the town, she'll awake, smelling of tequila, Dolan's, and cigarettes.  Clutching her Brita, she forms a cocoon out of blankets and remains inside, only emerging as a butterfly after a minimum of 24 hours of rest.

How to avoid the hangover?  Don't drink in the first place!  But if the thought of a sober Friday is too daunting for you, alternate with water and you'll wake up feeling like 1,000,000 bucks!

Now, if I only I could take my own advice...

SO!  To recap: ... don't fuck Caroline, she'll leave you with an STD.  The grass behind Bridgewater's Dairy Queen is NOT a comfortable place to sleep, and a Brita/blanket cocoon can fix anything.

Cheerzzzz
@powertequila

five MORE things that piss me off

1. LITTLE KIDS WHO ONLY WANT KETCHUP ON THEIR BURGERS.

This is probably the least rational thing to be mad at, but I tell you, nothing irks me more than when a little kid is ordering food and asks (or, because they're stupid kids, get their mom to ask) "just ketchup on the burger."  

Stop being picky and eat your fucking onions.

The weirdest part about this one is that it doesn't bother me if any other age group at all does it.  Say I'm with one of my friends who is 20 years old.  They order a burger and ask for just ketchup. I'm 100% okay with that.  You're 75 and you just want ketchup?  Sure!  But you're 6 and just want ketchup?  EJSFAKOEDwkfjaok

2. THE OLYMPICS.

I'm going to get hated on for this.  Which is another one of my pet peeves, getting hated on for hating on the Olympics.

I want to watch the Simpsons sometimes.  It's hilarious.  You know what's not hilarious?  Asian women diving.  Naturally, you can understand my frustrations when the Olympics takes over the time slot originally reserved for quality cartoon entertainment.

Aren't there already entire CHANNELS dedicated to sports?  Why not restrict the Olympics to there?  Big Brother doesn't come on and pre-empt fucking tennis over TSN.  So the Olympics shouldn't come do the same to Global.

3. PEOPLE WHO CALL KELLY CLARKSON FAT.

It bothers me that one of the most common comments on her YouTube videos is something related to her weight.

Kelly Clarkson isn't fat, internet troll.  You are fat.

4. MOVIES THAT TRY TO BE MORE REALISTIC BY USING SHITTY CAMERA WORK.

You know which ones I mean... Paranormal Activity, Cloverfield, Blair Witch Project, etc, in which one of the main characters carries around a camera/sets up hidden cameras/etc in order to make the movie feel more "real."

What the director of Paranormal Activity probably hoped I'd think:

"Man, this is so scary.  I bet this really happened, because this was all caught on hidden camera, no cameramen in sight."

What I actually thought:

"Who sets up several hidden cameras in their house overnight?  Furthermore, who carries around a camera all over the fucking place when it's obvious they're in grave danger.  I get that scary shit is happening in the middle of the night, but this is the most unrealistic thing I've ever seen."

This isn't saying that horror movies are generally realistic, but simply saying that this doesn't help make it any more scarier.  Instead, it just gives me two hours of headaches as a result of shaky camerawork.

5. MUSIC VIDEOS THAT DON'T IMMEDIATELY START WITH THE SONG
I just youtube'd the video for 'When You Were Young" by the Killers.  It wasn't until 1:27 that the song started playing.  WHO ACTUALLY ENJOYS MUSIC VIDEOS SO MUCH THAT THEY'D PREFER EIGHTY FUCKING SEVEN SECONDS OF SOME UGLY ASS BITCH CRYING ON A CROSS?  NO ONE.  I JUST WANTED TO HEAR THE SONG FOR SOME REASON.

6 lessons I've learned from living in an apartment for six months

HEY I had this blog once, but I got lazy, I'm back at it... judge me maybe.

HELLOOO followers/people who accidentally clicked on the link that I'm going to whore around social media!
I was going to start with some banter about how I haven't blogged in a long fucking time... then realized like 40% of my posts open with that soooo...

APARTMENT LIFE!  Original.

I moved out of residence and gained full independence (purchased by Roxanne Power's credit card) at the beginning of May with Billy, a flaming homosexual fish and chips enthusiast, and Natalie/Natasha, a raging alcoholic waitress.  We're also students... kind of.  I got a job selling fish to old people and things were going great!

I've learned a few things about living in an apartment for about 6 months.

1. Life is fucking scary without a dishwasher.
Those of you who have never had the beautiful luxury of a dishwasher will probably disagree and say it's not that.  Those of you who DID have a dishwasher growing up... IT FUCKING SUCKS.  If they're not clean  you have to LOOK AT THEM ALL THE TIME UNTIL SOMEONE WASHES THEM.  And in order for them to be clean... YOU HAVE TO WASH THEM!!!  With your HANDS that get SCALDED in HOT WATER.
When I think of a dishwasher I think of a thousand tiny Mexican women running around, frantically scrubbing away at our mess.

2. Why did I ever use a glass to drink anything?
I'm the only one in my apartment who likes skim milk (Natasha has her 1% for cereal and whatnot, Billy has 2%).  Why dirty a glass when I'm the ONLY ONE drinking it (if boyfriend reads this... I'm sorry, I drank out of the carton, you should probably not drink my milk.)  Same for juice.  Water?  I just stick my head under the tap!  This kind of ties into #1 - less dishes!  Except for once, I was at work and kind of forgot that I wasn't home and nearly drank out of the tap.  But I didn't!

3. Cats... they need food to live.
STOCK UP ON CAT FOOD.

4. There's more to life than partying.
hahahaha.   Just kidding.

5. Cooking isn't THAT hard.
I'm bad for eating half of my meals on campus/at the cellar/boston pizza/just not eating because i'm lazy.  Like... if someone hacked into my banking info (please don't, I don't even have that much money) I'd look like I was a food critic for the amount of $$$ I spend at restaurants.  The other day, boyfriend was making hamburger helper... so I bought hamburger helper so I could be domestic too.  Have I made said hamburger helper?  ... Not yet.  Whatever, I worked all day.  That's kind of responsible too.
Breakfast shakes help me out a lot too!  They're easy.  And they involve milk.

6. I just really REALLY want a dishwasher...
I know this was number 1... but fucking FUCK it's a big one.

Anyway... those are the only 6 (lol 5) lessons I've learned!  Stay tuned, I might actually update again! :O

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER XOXO GG @powertequila

OH YEAH!  KELLY CLARKSON'S GREATEST HITS COMES OUT TOMORROW :D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D:D

Day 4.

It's official, the world thinks I'm an alcoholic:

Something called '@seemydrink' is now following me on twitter (you should all probably follow me on twitter, especially if I don't know you!  When strangers follow me I feel famous.  @powertequila).
Basically this implies that someone somewhere who I don't know has read my excessive tweets about drinking (most of which start with 'lol driiinkk...') and began to follow me from this account... cool!

But they will be disappointed.


I'm on Day 4 of my journey to not drink for 60 days.  Meaning my tweets will be lacking in drunkenness for the time being (I'll more than make up for it on New Years, I promise).

Not drinking for four days is not unheard of... even I've gone that far before.  That being said, it's Friday night.  Friday.  Key word being Friday.  Other important word being Night.  Friday Night.  Friday screams 'drinking' and night screams 'it's acceptable to drink at this hour.'  Naturally the two together scream a recipe for drunkenness and disaster.  Fortunately I've a prior commitment to attend to tonight and can't drink (even if I wanted to).  Day 4 = success.

But tomorrow is Saturday (click for clarification).  Saturdays have nights too.  Saturday screams 'it's not friday but i'll take it, go drink.'  I'm going to have to do things like driving and surgery in order to keep myself sober (I'm against drunk driving and drunk surgery).

Anyway... since I'm not drinking I'll probably update semi-frequently from now on... it's not like I'll be doing something outlandish like... studying or some shit.

** I understand that this probably won't get a lot of reads, considering most of you will be drinking tonight.  Unlike me. :(

*** I LIKE FOLLOWERS AND SUBSCRIBERS SO DO THOSE THINGS.  kthxbyeee

things that piss me off about eating

I think that this is the highest concentration of the word 'fuck' of any blog post.


I'm sure I have an earlier blog post about how much I hate whole wheat bread.  To summarize:
Whole wheat bread tastes like shit.  I would rather swallow sandpaper than eat a sandwich made with whole wheat bread (the sad thing is, I'm only exaggerating a little).  Whenever I bitch about how I'm being served whole wheat bread, I always get the same reply: "It's good for you!" Shut the the fuck up.  I lost 25 pounds this summer eating at least four slices of WHITE bread every day.  Not once did I torture my tastebuds with the carboard-like texture of the monstrosity and abomination that is whole wheat bread.  And I still successfully lost weight.  So go fuck yourself.
Moving on -

I like sour cream.  A lot.  I would sit there eating out of a tub of sour cream if it wasn't grossly unhealthy and probably socially unacceptable.  So naturally I'm pissed off when people judge/criticize me for loading copious amounts of sour cream on everything.
Am I pouring sour cream on your food?  No.
Am I eating it directly from the container?  Rarely.
Am I spitting sour cream out of my mouth to piss you off?  No, but that would be kind of funny.
Exactly.  So shut the fuck up and let me eat my food with an unhealthy amount of sour cream.

I'm a messy eater.  You're a fucking bitch.  I don't tell you you're a fucking bitch, so don't tell me I'm a messy eater.  K? K.

I'm a pescetarian, meaning I eat fish and only eat other animals while drunk no other animals.  Generally at gatherings where pizza is available, the person organizing said gathering decides to be 'respectful' and order pepperoni pizza for the omnivores and vegetarian pizza for the others.  The thing about vegetarian pizza is that it's covered in olives (I fucking hate olives) and peppers and other shit that I don't want.  Just because I don't eat meat doesn't fucking mean I want olives on my god damn pizza.  Get CHEESE pizza.  You probably can't go wrong.  If you don't/can't eat cheese... then don't eat pizza. 


Last thing that pisses me off about eating (and it's a big one):
I love spaghetti.  I would go as far as to say it's my favourite food.  However, I like spaghetti with butter and parmesan cheese.  No sauce.  So it FUCKING PISSES ME OFF WHEN CUNTS POUR SAUCE ALL OVER MY FUCKING SPAGHETTI WITHOUT ASKING ME.  I've never hit someone in my life but my closest moments have been a result of this.
It's almost equally frustrating when I sit down with my spaghetti and get weird looks and am asked "you don't put sauce on your spaghetti?"  MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS.


... I wasn't in a bad mood before I wrote this but now I'm gonna go on a rampage.  BYE!