Party in the First

First-degree murder is any intentional murder that is willful and premeditated with malice aforethought

I’ve noticed as I’ve grown older there has been a distinct move away from the anticipatory joy of getting obliterated.

“I can’t wait to get fucking BLASTED at this pregame, do a metric ton of coke, rip it up at the club and then after party until the sun rises!”

has been replaced by…

“I was thinking of having a mellow dinner with friends, great wine and fun conversation.”

The truth is that the two above people often have a similar night. You can put out some shrimp cocktail at a pregame and call it a dinner party. You can finish an 8ball and discuss world geo-politics. You can smoke cigarettes on a patio with strangers until 7 o clock in the morning and just pretend you’re acting European.

The difference is intent. Trying to smooth down the implications of your partying is a natural progression as you age. There is an inherent shame in getting fucked up just for the hell of it. It seems irresponsible and dare I say, immature. Lots of people don’t aspire to be either of those things.

I am not most people.

I committed party in the first degree this weekend.

This is the story…

While it may not be apparent at first glance, I am a fairly well rounded individual with lots of hobbies. I like to cycle, I’ve run a few triathlons, I play tennis and I just started scuba diving.

Do you know what each of these activities have in common? The aforementioned sports are populated by wealthy people. If I ever want to marry up into high society and knock up some chick (this is the white person equivalent of an anchor baby) I figure it best to involve myself in pastimes that put me in close proximity of them.

5am Saturday I depart for Laguna Beach. I stayed in on Friday it was the only responsible thing I did all weekend. Literally my responsibility stopped at 5:01am, because despite staying in, I was tired AF. What do you do when you’re tired and have a 60 mile drive ahead? You snort an Addy bomb obviously. Oh what’s that you say? It’s important to be able to breathe through your nose when scuba diving? Why clog it with orange disco dust? Because I am a savage, and I routinely get away with my personal failings.

But whatever, I go on two dives, I’m in a 7mm suit, it’s 90 degrees out and after I’m done I am ready to die, BUT I PRESS ON there is pregaming to be done before the USC tailgate. I get to Manhattan Beach around 11am where I am issued 40 mg of Ritalin (did not know it still existed) and 6 shots of Jack Daniel’s. It’s a good start. Working a good buzz we hop in an Uber to University Park.

2pm: My jaw is moving back and forth like a crack addict and my lips are severely chapped. I arrive at a buddy’s tailgate and have my first run in with KIRKLAND LIGHT. Have you ever heard this before?

“Kirkland vodka is actually just Grey Goose re-packaged”

Me too! Kirkland vodka is great! That said, Kirkland Beer is actually the skunked urine of an aging alcoholic repackaged. It is that bad. I would not advise bonging it, especially 3 times in a row.

4pm: As the tailgate winds down and people head to the game I start to wander around the field poaching half empty cases of beer. You know the homeless people that look for cans that they turn in for .10 cents? I assume that’s what I look like during this quest. I find about 12 beers and a half empty bottle of Fireball, this can’t be sanitary. I also found an abandoned ice luge at this juncture in the day, I proceeded to destroy it.

530p: The people I came with have gone to the game, but new friends have arrived. We go to a bar at USC called ‘The Lab.” I’m probably 25 drinks deep at this point. Did I mention I have a concert at LA Live tonight? I’m going to see OAR, this entire day is serving as my pregame.

8p: LOL, USC lost. We ubered to Hollywood to go to ‘Good Times at Davey Wain’s’ This bar isn’t really that cool. You go in through a fake refrigerator and order beers out of an old Winnebago out back. At this point, I am beginning to crash. I knew I should have planned ahead and ordered drugs Friday night. I begin to loudly complain about my lack of cocaine, one of my friends says he thinks he has a solution and offers me a giant bag of Molly. Great, this is a good start.

9pm: I am back downtown now at LA Live, a homeless man outside asks me for a dollar. “I’ll give you 20 dollars if you have some coke.” He thinks for a moment. Buying cocaine from a homeless man is never a good idea, but I was pretty far in the bag at this point. I had been drinking for 10 hours and had at least 3 more to go.

“I don’t have any coke, but I’ll take $20 for this bag of shrooms.” He holds up an eighter of shrooms, I had him my 20 and ingest the whole bag in one gulp. Am I the only weirdo that actually likes the taste?

9:30pm: I am in the front row and OAR just opened with Untitled. I am rolling my face off and just dumped a beer on my head. I can’t tell if everyone in my immediate vicinity is loving me or that is just the overconfidence induced by the shrooms.

10:11pm: Just spilled my fourth beer of the evening, then slipped and fell on the floor. I swear the lead singer shot a concerned look my way. The chick that was dancing next to me just told me to open my mouth and poured beer in the direction of my mouth while I lay on the floor. This is the best night ever.

12am: Ok the concert ended and I’m heading to WeHo now to see some DJ or something. My friends checked with the bouncer to make sure it was ok for me to show up in shorts and sandals smelling like the inside of a dumpster.

12:21am: “Are you Dave?”

-Yes. How could you tell?

“Your friends said you’re on a lot of drugs and would probably be sweating, they’re in the back.”

I go to the back and immediately take 5 tequila shots and this is when I remember that I have to go back to Laguna again at 5am to go scuba diving again in the morning to complete my certification.

Whatever, I’ll just uber home with my friends and sleep for a couple of hours before I go.

1:38am: Lights just went on. I’m having trouble standing, also remembered my car is not in Venice. It’s in Manhattan Beach. Fuck.

2:10am: I am in an uber with 3 chicks. 2 of them are feeling me, one is definitely not. I just played Bieber, Taylor Swift and Katy Perry in a row…she wants to put on Tame Impala, I told her to go fuck herself, now she’s trying to get me thrown out of the uber.

2:41am: Well, now I’m about a mile from my car. I got kicked out of the uber after I solicited a threesome from 2 of the girls in the back seat and called the other girl a cunt. It’s ok, I had to pee.

3:30am I found my car, time to sleep for 30 minutes…sometimes I have snacks in my glove box, I’m really hoping for a bag of Cheetos or someth—OMG an old half gram that I hid that one time I got pulled over in Silver Lake. Christmas has come early!

4:30am I haven’t been able to sleep but I did listen to the entire soundtrack of High School Musical 2. What happened to Ashley Tisdale, are there any nude pictures of her floating around on the internet. I better right that down on my to do list for later. I might as well drive down to Laguna now, I’m probably sober…

I got to Laguna and did my last two certification dives. It was difficult and I also sliced my hand open on a piece of coral. It’s crazy watching yourself bleed underwater. I was positive a shark was coming to eat me but he did not. After the dive, I took my test and miraculously passed! I’m a certified scuba diver, yay! Now if I can just get home without dying, everything should be cool. Have I mentioned I start a new job tomorrow?

I get back to Venice around 2pm, roughly 32 hours after I woke up Saturday morning. I’ve had a long day (and a half) I snuggle up with a blanket, Xanax and a bottle of Dimeatapp, I feel as if I’ve earned it. No more alcohol, no more shrooms, no more molly, no more cocaine. Straight living for me for the next 5ish days. I’m going to wake up and exercise, I’m going to read up on world news and write inspired content. Tomorrow when I wake up I am going to grab the world by the balls and assert my place in it. I have been under achieving, it’s time to fuck shit up…

Until Saturday! There is talk of going to a water park. Water parks are fun right?

What if we get some edibles involved? What if we sneak in a flash to raging waters? What if we make purple drank? Let’s do it. I party with explicit intent and I should warn you that I am a repeat offender; I typically get away with it, just like a rapist with a Conn Smythe trophy.