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Highschool formal:
Pick up date (who, due to a strange series of circumstances, I had never met before that night. Basically a friend asked a friend of his for me, since I didn't have a date, didn't bother introducing us in person but instead just gave me her MSN. So I spent 3 weeks talking to her online, having no idea who this chick is, trying to avoid actually letting onto the fact that I have no idea who she is, when she obviously knows me. I'm still amazed I managed to actually pull that one off without creating some incredibly embarassing or awkward situation. She wasn't allowed to the post-party, so no hook up occured, but otherwise it went far better with than I expected).
Go to preparty.
Drink lots of champagne, walk around in a suit looking good and get photos taken.
Take Limo to formal.
More photos, run around lobby talking to people for the rest of the time.
Move into main hall, end up sitting at a shitty table with people I don't know very well.
Eat a shitty, incredibly overpriced meal, talk to date and listen to boring speeches.
Dance for 5 minutes or so to boring pop music, then go back to table and just roam around talking to people I know for the rest of the night.
Leave at midnight, get a lift home, get changed and hit the post party by 12:30.
Drop my first E ever within 15 minutes or so of arriving.
Next 4.5 or so hours are a blur of dancing, dodging between the dancefloor and the kitchen for water, and feverish cracked out pingerhead conversations.
Come down at 5 or so, start drinking again and the token 'holy shit pills are fucking amazing' conversation(s).
Share a cab fee with a guy I know moderately well, but half way to the first stop decide to go over to his place and get bent.
Arrive at his place, I experience comedown depression for the first time with no idea what the hell it is.
Solve this by making a bong, take a few hits, his mum tries to walk in so we dispose of bong and pretend to fall asleep.
He really does fall asleep, I suddenly feel energised again and full of energy, and can't stop giggling (first time I'd taken more than 1 or two puffs of weed), so I get up off the blow up mattress and ask to borrow the phone so I can call home for a lift.
Spend 20 minutes cracked out on his couch trying to engage his mum in semi-coherent conversation, words can't quite convey how funny this situation was at the time of it occuring, though I always wonder to what extent she picked up on the condition I was in at this point.
Lift arrives at 9:30 or so, crash at home by 10.
Wake up at 7pm, get on MSN/WoW for the token 'holy shit that was amazing' conversations. Go back to sleep half an hour later and sleep in till midday the next day.
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