TNT and Pinkish Punch
Amicae mea succeeded in making my act my age by dragging me off to a dance. From beginning to end it was rather fun, however, apart from the rap. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I started talking about my central point right away and I really don't wish to spoil it.
Hokay, so I show up at MJF's house bearing all my overnight kit, meaning a pillowcase stuffed with the contents of a small city as well as my bulging green sleeping bag. She frets about eyeliner while I debate whether or not I should wear my padlock. Brainsponge arrives, insisting on minimal makeup and bearing a book. Peaches and Pilot show up, Peaches being overenthusiastic and Pilot attempting to calm her. We don dresses and descend the stairs to the oohs and aahs of those assembled. After taking a full newspaper's worth of photos, they finally agree to drive us to our destination.
We eventually get inside (after a brief moment of panic concerning my coinpurse), and suss out the scene. Peaches tries to dance, Brainsponge gripes about the noise, and Pilot goes off to join her volleyball crew. And then I tried the punch.
For some reason it is obligatory to have punch at parties. Some genius decided to capitalize on this by packaging watery pinkish food coloring as an edible substance with only a few warning labels. When we first walked past the punch cooler we decided that the stoners had probably spiked it; after we tried some we realized we were right. For a beverage that bad it was actually amazingly addictive. (Hey, three a's in a row. Wow.)
Luckily we didn't die of punch poisoning and the DJ finally emerged from his headphones long enough to play a decent song, "TNT" by AC/DC. It was great!
Take one punker grrrl. Add several overenthusiastic friends and one makeup bag. Take the mixture to a dance. Sprinkle in a little spiked punch. Add adrenaline and associated hormones brought on by close proximity to amazingly fanciable lads. Turn up the volume on the already booming amps. Add "TNT" and WATCH ME EXPLODE!!!
The short and long of it is that I ended up doing the pogo on top of a wobbly cement bench. I am forever indebted to Sid Vicious for inventing that dance, and to Siouxsie Sioux for pissing him off. YEAH!!!
Of course there were other curious incidents, such as a 6'1" girl walking down the stairs with a 5'0" guy, or the stoner wandering around red-eyed and staggering, or a rather bizarre conversation conducted in the relative privacy afforded by a pillar, (please remind me to kiss that pillar on Monday, it is my new best friend), but these I will explain in depth later.
After the dance we went to Brainsponge's pulchra villa for gossip and pizza and a few episodes of Peaches' new favorite sitcom, Smallville. Funnily enough one episode was indeed about spiked punch, only their's was green. I ended up counting down the hours until 10:25 tomorrow, when I will be rapidly exiting biology hell to rejoin my faithful graffiti table in Gov. Hmm, 20:53 now.
Hokay, so I show up at MJF's house bearing all my overnight kit, meaning a pillowcase stuffed with the contents of a small city as well as my bulging green sleeping bag. She frets about eyeliner while I debate whether or not I should wear my padlock. Brainsponge arrives, insisting on minimal makeup and bearing a book. Peaches and Pilot show up, Peaches being overenthusiastic and Pilot attempting to calm her. We don dresses and descend the stairs to the oohs and aahs of those assembled. After taking a full newspaper's worth of photos, they finally agree to drive us to our destination.
We eventually get inside (after a brief moment of panic concerning my coinpurse), and suss out the scene. Peaches tries to dance, Brainsponge gripes about the noise, and Pilot goes off to join her volleyball crew. And then I tried the punch.
For some reason it is obligatory to have punch at parties. Some genius decided to capitalize on this by packaging watery pinkish food coloring as an edible substance with only a few warning labels. When we first walked past the punch cooler we decided that the stoners had probably spiked it; after we tried some we realized we were right. For a beverage that bad it was actually amazingly addictive. (Hey, three a's in a row. Wow.)
Luckily we didn't die of punch poisoning and the DJ finally emerged from his headphones long enough to play a decent song, "TNT" by AC/DC. It was great!
Take one punker grrrl. Add several overenthusiastic friends and one makeup bag. Take the mixture to a dance. Sprinkle in a little spiked punch. Add adrenaline and associated hormones brought on by close proximity to amazingly fanciable lads. Turn up the volume on the already booming amps. Add "TNT" and WATCH ME EXPLODE!!!
The short and long of it is that I ended up doing the pogo on top of a wobbly cement bench. I am forever indebted to Sid Vicious for inventing that dance, and to Siouxsie Sioux for pissing him off. YEAH!!!
Of course there were other curious incidents, such as a 6'1" girl walking down the stairs with a 5'0" guy, or the stoner wandering around red-eyed and staggering, or a rather bizarre conversation conducted in the relative privacy afforded by a pillar, (please remind me to kiss that pillar on Monday, it is my new best friend), but these I will explain in depth later.
After the dance we went to Brainsponge's pulchra villa for gossip and pizza and a few episodes of Peaches' new favorite sitcom, Smallville. Funnily enough one episode was indeed about spiked punch, only their's was green. I ended up counting down the hours until 10:25 tomorrow, when I will be rapidly exiting biology hell to rejoin my faithful graffiti table in Gov. Hmm, 20:53 now.
posted by RACL at 12:07 PM
2 Comments:
hey its peaches! yes i finally got around to writning on your little bloggy thingy. you make me sound crazy...well yes i suppose i was a little overly innergetic that evening, please excuse the spelling. Do i know about this pillar conversation? if not then i need to know pronto. anyway luvs!
ps. i enjoyed the bit about the punch.
You do know about the pillar bit, yes.
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