"Loser goes down on the winner"

You never really see it coming. Like, no on does a war cry like "LETS BE FUCKING INSAAAANE!" All of a sudden: things get hazy, voices louder, someone comes up with a ridiculously bad plan that without thought everyone agree with, which sets off a domino effect of staggered events.

After a night of one lesbian surprise birthday and one pertentiously delicious theater party, the troubled two that is Elise and I ended up at her apartment. Details are blurred, but somehow we ended being the drunkest at her apartment. Shocker. Chain smoking and lack of rationing caused us to to both be out of cigarettes. Major problem. When entering her building we noticed that a different apartment adjacent to hers was throwing a ragging party. I'm talking like spilling into the hallway, don't-send-that- text-message-your-typing cause you'll regret it tomorrow, kind of ragger.

Let me say with only the intention of setting the scene, this party was entirely Asian. I'm unclear of the country of origin(s), but every single person there was definitely some sort of Asian. 

Moving on, cigarette-less and desperate Elise came up with the following plan:

"Alright, so here's what were gonna do. We're both going to run into that party and ask everyone we see for a cigarette. Person who gets one first is the winner. LOSER HAS TO GO DOWN ON THE WINNER."

So you know those ridiculous ideas that others immediately agree and go along with. EXHIBIT: A.

We sprinted into that jam packed apartment faster than Mariah Carey to a rack of velour Juicy Couture suits. We each took on very different takes. Elise approached one guy and did a "isolate and interrogate" technique:

Elise: "Do you have a cigarette?"

Innocent Party Boy: "No. I don't smoke."

Elise: "I know you have a cigarette. Give me a FUCKING CIGARETTE."

Innocent Party Boy: "I'm sorry. I don't have one."

Meanwhile, I took on a very different approach. I went frantically from person to person blurting things like, 

"Do you have a cigarette? No, fuck. It's alright."

"Can I please have a cigarette. Come on, pleaaase." 

I covered three packed rooms in 180 seconds. Finally landing in a cramped bedroom, where someone begrudgingly handed me a Marlboro Menthol, gag. 

Boastful I run up to Elise who is still cornering the same boy, who is practically crying at this point. Elise sees my winning cigarette, says nothing and runs out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. I'm completely unaware of what happened next. But when Elise ran out of the apartment there was a group of bewildered people standing in the hallway looking at her. So Elise cries out, "My boyfriend just cheated me in there!" (Well played, well played)

So I come running out of the apartment, chasing after her, again unaware of what just went down. I got some major stank-eye and and "accidental" kick to the shins when I walked the gauntlet of girls in the hallway.

Back in Elises apartment, we had to come up with an alternative to the "loser goes down on the winner" bet we originally had. We don't do that here, well at least not to each other. So I convinced Elise to flash her entire living room, which was filled with at least 4 prospective hotties. None of them gave a damn really, but we'll pretend they did.

I then figured out that the balcony from their apartment went all the way up to the window of the poppin party's kitchen. The window was open and I was wasted: game over. I stick my arm into a packed kitchen and grab a bottle of Skyy Vodka. Bringing it back inside, I get some cheers and a "Go get more!" I am the hero, I have the spotlight, I like it. I go back and get a bottle of rum. Round three I resort to a can of sliced pineapples (unopened), which gets minimal applause.

As a night cap we had a "6 crackers in one minute eating contest," which almost made us hurl. So competitive sometimes, but never very athletic. It's a lavish life, it really is.

[Mid-cracker contest- look at that determination.]