I went to a house party last night. You know one with Jell-O shots, people puking in the bathroom, dance parties to the Spice Girls, too much free booze. It was a shitshow. Obviously, I got stupidly drunk. The kind of drunk when another beer seems like a good idea, and I probably would’ve made out with someone had a stayed another hour. I’ve had that much to drink before and felt fine, but there’s something about being around everyone pretending to enjoy themselves more than they actually are that makes these nights work. I left before it could get more stupid and couldn’t find my car for 15 minutes, but the cold and realization of how stupid it all was sobered me up. Surprisingly, I don’t have a hangover today. I feel like I deserve one. As much stupid fun as I had, I still hate house parties.