New Year’s Eve, Part 2

After talking to Raven Hair, I made my way down to the basement to say hello to my sister’s boyfriend and get into the beer pong that was loudly calling my name. There I met the guy who would be the life and, for a moment, half the bane, of my party night. Ginger, tall, wide, immediately he had the aura of a good, happy guy. Down at the game was a chubby girl with an extreme cute face (ginger’s sister), a skinny, short haired chick wearing a wife beater and another girl who I quickly pegged as attached to one of the pong players. With a glance, I labeled the skinny bitch as a feminist and I was proven right shortly after. Her motions, her manly tone of speech and gruff demeanor. As I drank on, she became fuckable, barely.

My sister came down for a few minutes, still tanked, but left. I talked to the ginger and the other girls that hung down. Made jokes, laughed, drank more, and finally got my turn at beer pong. Teamed with the ginger, I was up against some guy and the blonde chick I mentioned in Part 1. I hadn’t played since my trip back from Riverside, but it came back quickly. Sank several, but we started falling behind. Some rimming. Many close calls. Our opponents were closing in on victory. Then, pure skill on my part and of my teammate, we sank two bouncers. 4 beers they had to down. It was a Tebow miracle. They lost their momentum and, at our final cup, they were equally on the edge. Several minutes passed, then PLOP! Celebration. We won!

A call came from the upper floor. It was almost time for the countdown. We all made it up and the men were handed a small glass of 12-year old scotch. I was still nursing a second rum and coke. I put it down and all 15-20 people gathered together and rang in the new year. I downed my scotch and suddenly I couldn’t drink anymore. It was amazing, smooth, but went down in a way that I looked at my soda and cheap rum and just put it aside. I’m done.

Most of us made it outside to smoke a authentic Cuban cigar, adding to the celebratory atmosphere. A large circle formed and it was passed around. Fuck, did it taste great, even with the compound effect of alcohol. Someone said to use the garden to spit, I didn’t hear the instruction. When I spit, the feminist cunt came over and tapped me in the balls with her foot, telling me that I broke the rules. I felt it. It must have been the easy-go atmosphere, the cigar and the drink, ’cause I would of decked the bitch hard. Also, I was surrounded by geeks, statistical white knights, who would of crushed me for the Horde or Alliance or whatever. I wanted to enjoy myself. I wanted to enjoy that cigar. I wanted to have a good time. Fuck you, bitch. I spit behind me and continued with the sing-along of Queen songs the group was belting out. The next pass around, still slightly livid, I did spit in the garden, which apparently ired her because not long after, as I was the lone smoker finishing off both a cig and a cigar, she and the fat blonde began the obligatory drunk girl make out. I just stood and enjoyed my smoking, was soon accused of being creepy and they took it outside the patio and behind the fence. The fuck, bitch?

After that, the next events became a blur of short memories. Watching some weird music and anime mashup. A few words with Raven Hair before she took off. Talking to ginger’s sister. We had a common heritage, being both California kids. Finding the chubby blonde on the couch and getting some close time (I was drunk and horny, what?). I was basically fingering her through her jeans with another guy’s lap supporting her head, but this chick was so plastered there was no reaction. And, then, feminist came around. I ended spouting a horribly cheesy line when the lamenting of looks started. It was a true line, though, “When I got in the car, I thought you were cute.” Because I couldn’t see your face or body, I thought right after. The two took off and I found a free recliner, which would be my bed as the anime turned into Wanye’s World and How I Met Your Mother. I thought the night would end on a serene bust. Happy, still horny and pissed, but happy. But, even thought I wouldn’t score that night, I’d witness some of the worst fucking behavior by grown men I had ever seen since I started learning game.

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