| Jul. 5th, 2009 @ 10:25 am Melon Vaulderie |
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Current Mood:  exhausted
Current Music: Paramore - Oh Star
Abe Schraeder (the eldest of the infamous Schraeders) can certainly throw a Fourth of July party. We arrived at two o'clock in the afternoon, and, battered, exhausted, and mildly hypothermic, finally stumbled home eight hours later at a few minutes past ten. Our host expressed disappointment at our inadequate party stamina.
Burgers and hot dogs and chips, oh, my, were not the main event; Abe's enormous plastic tub full of "party juice"--Hi-C with Everclear--was, and it was almost completely consumed by the time we left. At one point, someone hollowed out a watermelon and started filling it and passing it around, while everyone got into excited circles and drank like they were participating in a tribal rite. Melon vaulderie.
This was a pool party, so we all spent a lot of time in the backyard pool, which is really only big enough for three people but which featured a minimum of six at any given time. It's not heated, so this is where the hypothermia had come from by ten p.m. However, drunken beachball volleyball entertained the masses, especially John, Al-Don, Bob, and a very blasted AJ, who played one another continually despite their total inability to keep the ball inside the pool. I played goalie from the ground to keep it from escaping into adjacent yards or the food area.
John managed to ease my self-consciousness at running around a lot of people I didn't know in a swimsuit by hoisting me repeatedly over his head, transforming my chagrin into embarrassment over being wet and tail over teakettle in the middle of a lot of people I didn't know. Well done, sir.
Finally, after repeated wrestling matches, the loud singing of Journey, and the setting off of a firework that, as though we were in a fifties' comic, shot off at an angle and struck the neighbor's roof, nearly breaking a window, it was time to say adieu. John lobbed some poorly-made water balloons at Kris and then we ran for it.
One of the motivating factors for our leaving early (ha!) was that John had participated in an earlier game of Fireworks Wars. For the uninitiated (this included me last night, and let me tell you, I was alarmed), this involves drunk people with no spatial perception or concept of consequences shooting fireworks directly at one another in a duel format. You lose when you get hit, and John was the loser last night, so we also needed to scurry off home to I could disinfect and bandage the fiery second-degree burn wound in the middle of his breastbone. Mighty John Say No To Hospital. Mighty John Fine, Just Stings Some. Mighty John Take Aspirin.
Since he's made plans for a date (ooh la la!) with Kris, Al-Don and Abe today (presumably after they've cleaned up what must be an impressive amount of party debris this morning) to play Vampire: the Eternal Struggle (a card game that makes both Magic: the Gathering and Illuminati look about as complicated as choosing an elevator floor), John then proceeded to stay up all night in a massive whirlwind of cards, constructing decks for the gaming. I went to bed at two-thirty, but his master rule-massaging went on long into the night, before he finally arrived to soothingly rub his bandages against my back and tell me lovingly that if I woke him before two p.m. he'd kill me.
My plan today is to relax, try to work out to work off the ridiculous amounts of food I consumed yesterday, and pack John off to the Danger Complex around two or three, from whence he will probably not return until midnight when his D&D game wraps up. It will be a glorious day of freedom--which probably means it will be a glorious day of naps. |
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