Tuesday, January 12, 2010

No. 96 "High School Memories Vol 1."

As many of you know, I am a semi-cool person with almost two dozen friends and get invited to 1.5 suburban house parties per weekend. From time to time, attractive females allow me to engage them sexually. I also have hair that can only be described as "Awesome" and am in the 95th percentile in high-fiveing ability. I was not always this way; in fact I was actually quite the "loser" during my adolescent years. Many people would randomly hit me with objects without explanation and others would mispronounce my name and address me as "Faggot." To my jest, I have remembered many of these stories from high school that make me cry at night, but make others laugh. As always, I will embellish them when appropriate for comedic effect, but for the most part they are sadly, sadly true.

This story begins during the second semester of my senior year, right before graduation. At this point, I was not as big of a social outcast as I had been previously. In fact, it was my number one objective to become "cool" before leaving high school. I was not sure that such a feat had ever been accomplished where a young man who had few friends and even fewer (none) female companions went from being a loser to cool in a few short weeks. This was my goal.

I was in my English class, where Mr. Plocho (Whose name I didn't know how to spell then and don't know how to spell now) was muttering about a book I hadn't read, and then gave us the rest of the class period to complete a worksheet as he laid in his chair and sipped on scotch from his coffee cup. Once he fell asleep or into a short coma, everyone started talking about graduation and the parties that were to follow. A young man, whose ethnicity will remain undisclosed (but used phrases such as "Hellllllll naw! and "Yessir!") gathered everyone around like a preacher as he told the class about his "Bad Ass Rager." For what he lacked in knowledge of the English language and reading skills he made up for in storytelling abilities. This party was to have ten kegs and "a fucking lot" of hard alcohol. Apparently his parents were unaware that he was graduating from high school and decided to book a trip out of town so he could invite underage strangers into their home to over consume alcohol and fornicate on their furniture.

He went on and on about how he was booking a DJ and inviting ASU girls to his party. No one called him out on this, as it is quite common for college girls to drive forty minutes to attend high school graduation parties. He also told the class about what can only be referred to as a sex room where he would be pleasing his female guests for the duration of the night. He did not go into detail about how the order of these sluts would work. I assumed that he had some sort of a velvet rope where they would wait in line patiently until the girl in front of them was finished. Although, a ticket pulling machine would work equally as well, much like a bakery.

Everyone in the class was hanging on his every word as he described the vodka luges that were to be installed in his back yard and sweet dance mixes he would be compiling for the event. No hip hop artists were schedules to perform, but he said that it was a possibility that Usher could show up since his cousin "kind of knows him." He did not mention sleeping arrangements or a town car service so I just assumed that the roads of Cave Creek would be filled with severely intoxicated teenagers once the party came to an end. Which was cool because no one dies between prom and graduation anyway.

While he was describing this awesome party I thought to myself that this could be the perfect venue for me to go from being "the kid no one liked" to "a fucking bad ass." I just imagined coming to the party in an awesome new shirt and sunglasses. People would praise me as I chugged bottles of vodka and showed off my interpretive dance skills. From there I would receive multiple high fives from all the popular dudes as they said things such as "Dude, I didn't know you were cool, but I was wrong!" and "Holy Shit! Patrick is a straight up PIMP!" After which I would bang all the hot girls that never talked to me throughout our high school careers. I assured myself that this was very much a possibility.

After about twenty minutes of describing all of the activities that were to be at this young man's party, (and from my memory included a bouncy castle and a ferris wheel) he notified the class that there would be a monetary cover to attend his party of the century. The cover was to be in cash only because he couldn't get his hands on a credit card machine and personal checks are just too unreliable. $20 for females, $50 for males. What a deal! Usually when I go to high school parties I pay up to $299 per cover and that doesn't include sweet dance mixes or "shit tons" of hard alcohol.

Once he finished explaining the details of his party in full, he arranged for a Q & A from classmates. Most of the questions ranged from "How did you get to be so cool?" to "What time should I arrive via limousine?" I did not have any questions, as I was still in awe of how a seventeen year old high school student could pull of an event bigger than the Oscars in such a short time and with little to no help from teamsters. I did, however, want to let him know how excited I was about his party and give him a verbal RSVP so I wouldn't have to haggle with the multiple bouncers he was to hire about my name being on the guest list.

Before class was dismissed by our now drunk English teacher I told the party planner extraordinaire that I was looking forward to his party and that it was going to be a great time. I was then met with a reaction, which even to this day seems a bit harsh. He waited a few beats as he stared at me and let the class quiet, then he said emphatically that I was "Not FUCKING invited!" Everyone, including my own friends started laughing at me while pointing in my direction in a derogatory fashion. Even Mr. Plocho said something to the extent of "Even I'm invited and I'm 57 years old, you fucking loser." Class dismissed, time to find a rope.

So my dream to become cool in high school never came to fruition. I did not attend his party for fear of being beaten by henchmen he had hired solely to beat uninvited guests. I did, however attend the school sponsored graduation party at Crackerjax, (a poor man's theme park with games and rides made for ten year olds.) where the school provided non-alcoholic refreshments, ugly girls and a hypnotist. Best. Party. Ever.


Kristine said...

Ouch dude. Can't wait to see volume 2.

Bre said...

He got his karma... last I heard he was selling knock off Tiffanys jewlery lol

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...