Viewport width =
March 31, 2014 | by  | in Opinion Shirt and Sweet |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

Shirt & Sweet

Partying is so tiring. The weekends are devoured so quickly. There is no time to do uni work because so much effort must be put into hangover treatments. I’m so frightfully tired and I must look it because the liquor store on Dixon St didn’t even ID me. I’m only 19, Salient readers. 19. Yet I look over 25. I am haggard. My lifestyle is getting the better of me. My wrinkles have wrinkles. The skin is practically falling off me. Oh, to live in a simpler time when the youth had perfect skin and didn’t know what alcohol was. People are right. We are the worst generations. We rinse and repeat the same cycle every week, and oh, the rinse involves a very high alcohol content. I tell you it must stop. It is so important, in order to maintain base levels of cuteness, to get a good night’s sleep. This is why you must learn how to make a timely exit from a situation that is no longer beneficial to you. I must teach you:

How to Run Away From Parties
We have a promising start here, because running away from parties is by definition a pretty cute thing to do. People might miss you. They might think about how they were talking to you just before but then you climbed through a window and you weren’t talking to them anymore. They might start to question their own cuteness. This is the point at which your cuteness is secure. Running away is pretty stroppy. If you run away, it’s because you have had enough and you will not accept this anymore. This is a thing to be proud of. We all know the value of saying no.

Anyway, the point is that you’re at the point where you no longer want to be immersed in this party anymore. (This effectively means that you don’t want to be at this party at all anymore because being on the outskirts is not an option at all. Ever. Immersal or nothing, or you’re not the subject of this column.) You were still hungover when you started drinking, and you know that you’re going to have to tunnel through possessions if you want to sleep in your own bed. And you probably do want to sleep in your own bed because there isn’t even anyone at this party whose body you want to put yours close to. When you reach this point, there is only one thing you must do. You must run away. Do not say goodbye to anyone, just leave. Take the rest of your alcohol with you, of course. Or the rest of someone else’s if you have none left. If you were sitting down at this party, keep low to the ground, below eye level of all of the terrible people at this godawful party. Do not make eye contact. If you make eye contact, they will realise that you are the most relevant and/or important and/or interesting life form at their party and they will try to stop you leaving. They may also try to build you a temple-prison and worship you until they pass out. If the main exit is congested by said people, you must look for alternative routes. Some old Wellington flats have small, Being John Malkovich doorways. Aim for these. They have the added benefit of not only providing you an exit to the party but also possibly traversing dimensions. Otherwise, they just lead to linen cupboards.

If you have confused your Being John Malkovich doorway with a linen-cupboard doorway, never fear. This is another way to run away from a party while actually maximising your cuteness. If you find yourself confronted with a cupboard full of linen, climb inside. Nestle yourself among the blankets and sheets. Befriend the spiders. If you have forgotten to bring your supplies with you, venture out on an expedition. Harvest alcohol. If there are Doritos, grab them too.

If you were in the middle of a conversation or a drinking game or a vigorous dance, then a subtle exit is not on the cards. What you must do instead is ‘make a scene’. Throw your drink in the closest/least attractive face and loudly defame the owner of this face for sleeping with your sister. (Whether you have a sister or not is irrelevant, although feel free to substitute ‘brother’ or even ‘pet’ for greater impact). Two things will happen after this. First, there will be a chaos of people realising that they have have witnessed first-class shirtiness, and secondly, you will have inspired the right level of fear that people will part before you and allow you and your once-again perfect composure to gracefully exit the party and return to your abode.

 

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. An (im)possible dream: Living Wage for Vic Books
  2. Salient and VUW tussle over Official Information Act requests
  3. One Ocean
  4. Orphanage voluntourism a harmful exercise
  5. Interview with Grayson Gilmour
  6. Political Round Up
  7. A Town Like Alice — Nevil Shute
  8. Presidential Address
  9. Do You Ever Feel Like a Plastic Bag?
  10. Sport
1

Editor's Pick

In Which a Boy Leaves

: - SPONSORED - I’ve always been a fairly lucky kid. I essentially lucked out at birth, being born white, male, heterosexual, to a well off family. My life was never going to be particularly hard. And so my tale begins, with another stroke of sheer luck. After my girlfriend sugge