So I go to this party yesterday at my sister's house. It is apparent as soon as I walk in that I am not at all in my element. Fine. This party takes place in NJ, and at the time I was living in Minneapolis. My natural element is one of absolute debauchery, and I don't use that word lightly. With my friends, it is a complete free for all - nobody gets mad over the crazy shit that might go down, and our objective is to get fucking crazy. All of this goes through my mind as I am being introduced to the natives of suburbia. I can only guess what was going through their mind. In light of all this information, I proceed to drink....a lot. I told myself to pace my drinking, wait until the children leave as I down my third shot of vodka. I sit and ponder dubious facts, through a thick haze forming on the brain; clarity begins to fade, and at this point, I am superimposing my reality upon the inocent. Beer pong ensues - and things get a little darker. The locals must have been observing my habits and wondering from what strange land I had come from. Somewhere along the line, the people who's party I crashed (I am sure that is what they were thinking for no one wanted to claim full responsibility for my presence) thought it would be a good idea to "get me outta there". I am tricked in to getting into a car with the promise of "going to another party". I, at this point, have no shirt, no wallet, no phone, and I am sitting in a convertible thinking I am going to a party. The girls, who owned the car I was in, say that we need to get me a shirt first, so we stop at my parents' house. I run in, put some clothes on, and run back outside only to find out THEY FUCKING LEFT ME!!! I was pissed. I grabbed a beer from the basement, walked out the door, and headed for the party I was promised. I walk about a hundred yards before I realize; I have not a clue where this party is taking place. Discouraged, drunk, and with no place to go, I walk back the house to get some sleep. SHITTY.
I wake up to my parent giving me a lecture: "Don't you think it's time to grow up? Don't you think it's a bad idea to throw beer bottles? Don't you think it's a bad idea to jump in the pool off the roof of the house? Do you get this way at home? I thought you were smarter than that!" ect. ect. ect. blah blah blah

The funny thing is, I wasn't that drunk compared to the norm. Not to say I am an alcoholic or anything, but my philosophy is, if your going to do something (anything, but drinking is the subject), do it right. No half-assing it. If you're going to drink, don't pussy foot around and get the job done. The whole time I thought I was doing an excellent job of maintaining composure, but the civilians thought otherwise. Who are these people and where do they come from, I think to myself. It astounds me, truly it does, that these people are so sensitive. I guess I should feel bad, but it's difficult. All the while I viewed this as an advantageous event: A chance to get fucking nuts with the family, but I suspect they are getting too old for my kind of fun. I did however, learn a valuable lesson: Much of the, as George Carlin would put it, pussification that occurs in this country, does so in suburbia. Suburbia is in between the extremes: country living, and city living, and the two breed some tough motherfuckers. It's like fire and ice. Suburbia is like piss-warm water.

I could also take the "blame my sister route". She did lead me to believe that the day would be a reckless one. That was not the case.All is said and done, and I will need to force an apology to someone - not sure who yet - regardless of the fact I am indifferent to the whole thing. Fine. I know the game, and I know how to play it. Tonight will be my last night in planet suburbia, and I don't think anybody will be dissapointed. They love me, and I love them, but they can't handle my nature. I think living half-way across the country strengthens our family ties, for they can only handle so much of me.