Meh. The extroverts seem to have had fun, as you'd expect — the party was basically a contest to see who could be the center of attention for the longest period of time — but I snuck out after an hour, equal parts bored and annoyed. Maybe I hadn't been drinking enough.
But the pre-party activities rocked the proverbial socks.
First there was Illuminati. I was the Society of Assassins, a group I only know how to play defensively. So I used my powers of neutralization to try and stop Alan (Gnomes) and Sockless Pete (Bavarians), the obvious threats.
I managed to convince my broken camera (a replacement should arrive next week) to take a blurry picture of the game. From left to right: Zack, Alan, Sockless Pete, and Ben. Alan won, again.
Our actual pre-party a few hours later was a blast from the past. Ben and I had at various times and in various states of inebriation resolved to hang out more, and there was really no better activity for the two of us than our beloved Mariokart Drinking Game.
I accidentally told more people about the game than could actually play it, but thankfully they couldn't come. The beauty of the nonvitation. As you can see, the other two players were the Politician and Rock Show Girl.
For those who don't know the (simple) rules, which work with any version of the game:
Mariokart Drinking Game
1. Get hit by a turtle shell (green, red, blue, large) and you have to drink.
2. If you fire a blue shell you have to drink.
3. If you place first you can send one of your drinks to someone else.
4. If you place first and don't have any drinks to send, everyone else has to take a shot.
It was a very nostalgic experience, especially since — as was the case so often last year — the only thing we had to drink was vodka and Kool-Aid. Cursed historical accuracy.
Scary to think that nostalgia is already encrusting my relationships at Lawrence. Only four weeks to go, and I'm not sure how much can really happen in a month when you're cloistered at the library writing fiction.
