Welcome to the 6th floor.
Today’s contributors are: Ann, Sara, Tabitha, Frank, Billy and Scott.
Subject: Are You One?! Are You Two?! Are You Twenty-Six?!
(Events of last weekend. I know our posts are lagging.)
Rosemarie: “..dear Billy! Happy Birthday to you! Now make a wish.”
Billy grins a very evil grin and blows out his candles.
“Well what did you wish for?”
“There’s always someone that has to ask that. You can’t tell or it won’t come true!” Sara frowns at Tabitha.
“Would you believe me if I said cake?”
John(7th Floor): “What kind of cake is that? It looks good.”
“It’s a Baskin Robbins ice cream cake.”
John: “Awesome, lets get eating!”
“Will you do the honors and cut the cake Frank?”
“Sure. If you get me another beer.” Frank takes the last swig out of his beer bottle, holds it up and wiggles it at Tabitha, and then tosses it towards the bin of empties near the kitchen. His coordination not what it was earlier in the evening, it misses, bounces off the edge of the counter and shatters on the floor in front of the fridge.
“Nice shot Shaq.”
“And that’s why we don’t throw glass bottles in the apartment. You’ll have to wait for your beer until I clean this up now.”
“Fine, but then I’m not cutting the cake.”
“Just going to let it melt into a mess?”
“And what If I am?”
Rosemarie: “I’ll cut it.”
“You don’t have to.”
Rosemarie: “I don’t mind. Scott’s salivating is disturbing anyway.”
Scott snaps his jaw shut. “It’s such a good cake.” He whines.
John: “Nothing wrong with a little drool. Happy Birthday Billy!”
“Drool. Just what I always wanted!”
Sara is helping Rosemarie, taking the candles off the cake. “Who’s idea was it to put fire on an ice cream cake? It’s just going to melt faster.”
“What if Billy wished for his ice cream to never melt?”
“Then I imagine he’d be pretty disappointed.”
Rosemarie: “Okay sugar, here’s the first piece.”
“Oooh, me next!” Scott says, taking the next piece of cake when Rosemarie puts it on a plate.
Frank runs by and snatches it out of his hands. “Nah nah na nah nah!”
“Thief! Felon! Rogue!”
“Oooh, nice synonyms there. Did Starbucks print a dictionary on the back of the cups this month?”
“No. The Akeela and the Bee cups are long gone.” Scott says, sticking out his tongue at Sara.
“Hey Frank! I’ve got your beer here! Beer! Ice Cold Beer!” Ann shouts across the room, holding the beer by the stem and waving it at Frank.
Frank turns to look, and as he does, Mike accidentally bumps into Ann and she drops the bottle. It cracks as it hits the hard floor, and the beer spills out into a puddle.
Frank grins. “Ha! At least mine was empty. Alcohol abuse!” As Frank is distracted by the mess, Scott steals his piece of cake back.
Mike: “Sorry Ann, but boy, you guys really are a bit clumsy aren’t you?”
Ann glares at Mike and he gets the hint and walks away to mingle with someone else.
Ann cleans up the mess, and the night winds on. The cake is served and eaten, and Billy opens his presents happily, enjoying the surprises. Lots of booze gets consumed, and before long people are slurring “Goo-Night, Haapy Birthday Bill!” and stumbling back to their own floors and apartments. Billy and Rosemarie are cuddled on the coach, just zoning out. Frank and Scott have a different sports highlight show on each tv, and Tabitha has fallen asleep at the table amidst the empty beer bottles that didn’t make it into the bin. Ann and Sara are cleaning up the kitchen, except they both are having trouble standing.
“Great party tonight. We should do this again don’t you think?”
“Well, You and Frank both having birthdays next month right? I guess we could do this again.”
“Yeah lets. I bet nothing goes well with turning 24 like an Abita Purple Haze.”
“Purple beer? That’d be pretty nasty if you drank too much.”
“Ugh! Why is your first thought after beer, vomit?”
“Could be because I feel like I had too many beers. Or just that purple beer sounds nauseating.”
“Maybe we should stop sponging.”
“Sponging? That sounds naughty.”
“Lucky Scott wasn’t paying attention then. I meant we should stop this..cleaning. No more sponge. Just bed.”
“Bed sounds mighty awesome. Did you know a sponge supposedly isn’t three dimensional? It’s only like 2.83 dimensions or something.”
“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?”
“No! Really! I went to this lecture about dimensions once. There are supposed to be 11 I think, but most of them are on the microscopic level.”
Ann groans and grabs onto the counter. “I think the rum in my tummy isn’t agreeing with your physics talk. Too complicated for such a smooth and simple beverage.”
“Okay okay. Chemistry then?”
“No! All I know about chemistry is that the chemistry of my blood contains lots of booze and I need to lay down. Goodnight everyone!” Ann shouts, startling Billy and Rosemarie. They follow Ann’s lead and slowly rise and head to bed. Sara walks over to Frank and Scott and sits down.
“So how did the Braves and Phils do tonight?”
(Is the occasional mention of random bit people confusing? I’ve mentioned Mike and John before, but should I put in more information about them when I post, at least to remind everyone who they are? Feel free to comment or email us if anything is confusing or you have an idea about how to make anything more clear)
Welcome to the 6th floor.
Today’s contributors are: Ann , Sara, Tabitha, Frank, Billy and Scott.
Subject: Party from Hell
“So why do we have to go to this party?”
“Because they’re new in the building and it can’t hurt to welcome them in and make new friends can it? Isn’t that how we met Sue and Amy when we moved in?”
“Amy and Sue are hot though.”
“What are their names?”
“Jack and Cinthia. The party’s at John’s, on the 7th floor, who you should know.”
“John’s the guy with the daughter who sells girl scout cookies right?”
“‘Figures that’s what you remember about him. Thin mints.”
“I think my stomach has a better memory than my brain sometimes.”
“We’re here. Hi John!”
John: “Hi guys! Come on in!”
“Hello. So you have any thin mints hiding anywhere?”
John: “Nope, sorry Billy.”
“Lets say hello to Jack and Cinthia and then find a corner to hang out in.”
So we do just that, and find ourselves a spot near the window out of the way.
“I’ll go get us some drinks, come help me carry Tabitha.”
“So Jack seems nice. What was it he said he did?”
“Something about trade..or commerce. Shipping? I don’t know. Frank?”
“What? Oh..I wasn’t listening, sorry.”
“Whatever it was, it was boring.”
“We’ve got a dire situation, we have to go.”
“Go? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, he’s just upset because they have no alcohol.”
“No booze?! Lets go.”
“We can’t go, we just got here. You’ll live without a drink.”
“Drinks are the only way I can get through party’s like this. There is nothing more boring than a party with casual acquaintances.”
“Look, lets get some soda, wander around and talk to everyone, and then we can politely leave, with everyone having remembered talking to us.”
“Fine. We already talked to Jack and Cinthia, so let’s talk to the others.” Billy looks over to the rest of the people. “Mike! Come here!”
Mike: “Hi guys, what’s up? Nice to see you.”
“So how are you Mike? What are you up to lately? How’s work? Good? Great. We’re all fine, normal stuff. Tabitha did great on her finals, is thinking about waitressing for the summer for some money. Isn’t that wonderful? Okay, you can go now, nice talking to you Mike.”
Mike: “Uhhh..umm..I..Terrific! Nice seeing you!”
Mike walks away confused.
“That doesn’t count! Be nice!”
“Do we even like these people?”
“About as much as fruit salad.”
“Not a bad dessert, but not quite what you’re looking for.”
Sara groans and flicks Scott’s ear. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Come on, lets go get some soda and talk to some people. We can worry about leaving later.”
“Oh fine, lets go.”
Brett: “Hey 6th Floorers, how’s life treating you down there?”
“A hell of a lot better then being on the 14th floor. I can’t imagine having to wait for the elevator all the time to get up that high.”
Brett: “The view from my bedroom is so worth it!”
“Not as good as the view in Ann’s bedroom I bet.” Scott says with a wink.
Ann punches Scott. “You’ve never seen the view, so how would you know?”
Henry: “Ann! Good to see you! You written anything lately?”
“I’ve been writing in our blog, but other than that nothing since we were helping each other out last year.”
Henry: “Yeah, why did we stop doing that anyway? I’ve been too busy to get much writing done since then either.”
“We stopped because Carol got jealous that you’d meet me once a week.”
Henry: “Oh. Right.”
“Where did Scott go?”
“He was right here a second ago.”
“He better not have left!”
“I’ll go check the hall for him.”
“Aha, no! You stay right here. No sneaking out.”
“But it’s so boring! And the soda’s not even name brand!”
“Oh woe is you. You have to drink a White Rock cola instead of a Coke. The world’s going to come to an end.”
“How do you know it won’t?”
“I’m a college student remember? I know everything.”
“Come on, lets go talk to Jack and Cinthia some more, make them feel welcome.”
“Ugh, could there be more boring people on the face of the earth?”
Cinthia: “Who’s boring?”
“These two guys I work with. They drone on and on about nothing. It’s a pain to have to work with them.”
Cinthia: “I understand, everyone can’t be as exciting as me!”
“Yeah, I guess I should just be thankful that everyone is not as boring as them.”
As Cinthia walks away, Tabitha whispers to Billy. “Nice save there.”
“Wouldn’t want them hating us right off the bat. We should give them at least a month for that.”
“Maybe even two months.”
We mingled for a little while longer, and then slipped out as some other people arrived. Scott was already asleep on the couch watching television when we got back downstairs.
Welcome to the 6th floor. Today’s contributors are: Ann, Sara, Tabitha, Frank, Billy and Scott.
Subject: 1 year Anniversary
We had a semi-impromptu celebration of our one year anniversary of moving in here on Saturday. The anniversary was actually earlier last week, but Frank’s brother John being in town gave us a good excuse to celebrate. Everyone invited a bunch of people over, including our neighbors within the building. It was actually getting rather cramped in the apartment. We haven’t thrown many house parties before, so we were vastly unprepared for this one. Coupled with it being mostly spontaneous, it was borderline disastrous. We ran out of diet soda, then regular soda, and then everything but tap water, beer and a bottle of pineapple rum.
Soon after that, the beer dried up. Before long, it was just the six of us and John. We had some generic horror movie on television that no one was really watching, and I was trying to find something to mix with the pineapple rum . By this point, John had actually passed out on the couch.
“Okay everyone, here’s my new concoction. I call it Desert Island”
“Desert Island? What’s in it? Did you find something other than pineapple rum?”
“Just try it; I’ll tell you after.”
“That’s never good to hear.”
“That’s disgusting! Is that Hershey’s syrup?”
“Eww. Yeah, definitely disgusting.”
“I don’t know; I kind of like it.”
“And what do you think, Billy?”
“This may be the crappiest cocktail I’ve had since that bartender made me that watermelon vodka mixed with Kahlua.”
Billy rarely gets very emotional or has any exaggerated reactions. In fact, he stated the above like he was saying “It rained today”. Many people mistake it for sarcasm, but it’s just the way he is.
“Shouldn’t you have tried it too Ann? What did you think of it?”
“Yeah, Ann! You’ve got to taste it, too. Here, try mine!”
Ann chokes down a sip, “Yikes! I’m sorry guys. That’s positively nasty!”
“Well that leaves only one option!” Frank slurred, “Shots!”
Expectedly, the night degenerated pretty fast from there. It’s always interesting to see the different ways people act when they are drunk, and we were all pretty wasted that night.
Scott’s a caffeine-overdose hyper drunk.
“Over/Under time! How long for me to get to 42nd street and back? Anyone?”
“You’re on! Someone time me.”
Scott makes for the door, trips over the corner of the couch and sprawls face down into a pile of empty beer cans. Then he leaps up, raises his hands in the air and takes a bow, receiving applause from the rest of us. Peeling off a can tab that stuck to his forehead, he says,
“Did I make it?”
Frank gets forgetful and incoherent. This could be partly because he has to get up to use the bathroom nearly every five minutes.
“Make what? What were you doing..? Mine!!”
Frank leaps from his spot on the couch and crawls into the bathroom ahead of Scott, who was headed there after his Olympic caliber dive.
Tabitha gets a bit of an oral fixation when she’s been drinking. She’s always either chewing on or playing with something.
“Time for another shot for me!” Tabitha says, as she gets up to pour herself another shot.
“Hold up! You know you’re not allowed to pour yourself drinks anymore,” says Scott, who’s standing in the kitchen waiting for the bathroom.
“Why not? I’ll be good. I won’t hurt myself really!”
“That’s what you said last time, and then you somehow managed to cut your left shoulder with the corkscrew. While pouring a beer!”
“Plus, right at this moment, you are chewing on a broken shard of glass from the pint glass I broke.”
Tabitha blushes and puts down the shard. “You’re such a klutz. Maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to make drinks either, Ann.”
“I am not! I’ll make another drink right now and show you!” I start towards the kitchen and see Scott hopping around staring at the bathroom.
“Scott why don’t you just use our bathroom?”
“No, I can wait. Your bathroom has cooties.”
“Cooties? It does not! What do you mean?” Asks Sara, but Frank comes out of the bathroom, and Scott bolts for it.
Sara may be the weirdest when she’s drunk. She suddenly wants to get into intellectual debates. Depending on the day and the subject, we will engage her, but sometimes it’s some obscure computer stuff that none of us understand. The lack of a debating partner rarely stops her tirade though.
“Did you guys hear about all the space junk that’s orbiting the earth? It’s like a junkyard up there! We really need to do something about it. It reminds me of that Futurama episode where they encounter the giant ball of garbage from the 20th century, and Fry has to teach them all how to litter.”
“I saw that episode! It was the one with the dog, right?”
“No Frank. I wonder what the solution is. Maybe we can knock it into the atmosphere and burn most of it up?”
“Billy can get very emotional when he’s been drinking. It’s funny because it’s so out of character for him.”
“That’s so sad; we even litter in space. Today I was so angry at these two twerps on the 6, leaving Starburst wrappers everywhere!”
“And then, there is me. I go into heavy-duty writing mode when I’m drunk. I start seeing stories in everything. I often wonder if I should attempt all the writing projects I have with a pitcher of beer. I’d be so worried about spilling stout on my laptop, though.”
“You don’t drink stout. Stout is yummy, I love stout, I’d marry it if I could!”
“You’re narrating all your thoughts again Ann.”
“Oops! At least I didn’t insult Billy this time, right?”
“Nope, not yet. We’re still good.”
Billy flashes me a huge smile, obviously happy I haven’t insulted him yet.
I don’t remember much after that. I must’ve attempted to write because I woke up at my desk, with 40 pages of the letter ‘a’ in Microsoft Word, where I’d fallen asleep on my laptop. John helped us clean up, and then Frank drove him to the airport so he could catch his flight.