The Archetype

  So I was recently at a friend's party and I noticed some interesting things that I guess I've always kind of known, but never put the thoughts to coherent words.  So there I was, sitting in the corner on the couch, under the influence, blank staring at people like a mother fucking creeper when I started to see similarities and begin to understand the dynamic of a party as an entity to itself.  Like the human body, parties have several elements that you will always which classifies a party as a 'party'.  This will be a generalization of everyone there in the order I saw them.

1. Obviously, you have to have 'The Host'.  This is going to be a decently chill guy with quite a list of friends.  He/she will be drinking, but not enough to hinder their judgement.  They are also the first to snap into soberness when someone vomits all over the carpet.
2. Go to any good party and you'll see there are women there.  There is also a girl, maybe more, who is usually a decent person and not normally slutty, but is able to use alcohol as a reason to be a bit flirtatious and playful.  She's not going to put out, despite leading you on.  She is 'The Tease'.
3. There is always a 'Good Guy'.  This guy likes our number 2 girl, above, but is too much of a pussy to make a move.  I can understand.  I can totally relate,except it's less pussy-ish when I do it, as it is not being an opportunist.  It's the good guy move, but good guys never win, EVER, and they never get laid.  This guy will spend the time at the party taking care of her after the 'bad guy' made her feel horrible or when she's puking her guts up.
4. There is a bad for every good and a 'Bad Guy' for every 'Good Guy'.  These are the guys who are plowing through women by the condom full.  They are willing to say what ever it takes for sex and you know what, it almost always works.  He follows his next victim into the bedroom while accepting congratulatory high-fives from the others.
5. The next is a guy I like to call 'The Expert' and a full fledged creeper.  At the party, he happened to also be the 'good guy'.  This guy hasn't drunk a damn thing all night.  He is called 'The Expert' because he seems to know everything about being drunk.  He tests other's sobriety to make sure they know he is 'The Expert'.  He is a fucking tool that no one really likes, but everyone is too drunk to care.
6. You could go to any corner of the Earth and you will always meet Number 6.  This person is the guy that thinks he is too cool to be drunk.  He'll do shot after shot and pretend like it's not affecting him at all.  He'll also probably be the guy who is going to drive home after getting butt-fucked by liquor.  At the party, this is the guy that vomited on your floor.  He is 'The Asshole'.
7. This next person, I was hilariously surprised when I found out his archetype, because I actually know this guy really well.  He is 'Mr. Really-Fucking Obnoxious'.  At the party, any party for that matter, this is going to be the obnoxious person who screams way too loud, being entirely too physical, and not really fitting into any of the sub-groups at the party.  He might also be the colossal asshole playing beer pong and is screaming, because some one made a shot on him. The best way I can describe him is like Dwight, from The Office.  Just imagine Dwight at a party.
8. Number 8 is the one that makes everyone uncomfortable at the party.  These are 'The Couple'.  These mother fuckers are making out the whole time, using their one or two drinks to pretending like they are wasted.  They take PDA to a whole new level.  Whether it is soft core porn making out, dry humping, or maybe even straight out dick-sucking, it's uncomfortable to everyone sober enough to notice.  
9. Next, we have 'The Uninvited'.  These people are the ones that got sucked into the gravity of the invitation someone cool got.  This is how people like 'Mr. Really-Fucking Obnoxious' got into the party or how a fat chick made it in, because she has a skinny, attractive friend/roommate that the invitee would like to have sex with.  It's sad, but it's the truth and you all know it.
10. And finally, we have everyone else.  These are your fillers to make your party look cool.  Much like movies use extras to have people to kill off or to make it look like something is actually happening.  Same as a party.  They are self-sustaining and are useful to disappear into a crowd when the cops show up.

  So that is my list.  Next time you are at a party, take a good look around in between shots and see if what I am telling you is true.  I know it is, but I want you to know it to, punk bitch.

Hiatus, a million dollar word...

  ...Meaning I'll do what ever the fuck I want when I want to.  So I'm sure a couple of you have heard rumors that I haven't written any new blogs recently.  They're all true.  Except the one about me dying in that horrible, dinosaur-related car accident.  That one was made up entirely by me to avoid writing blogs.  By the way, how ironic is it that a dinosaur would get into a car wreck using the fossilized remains of its brothers and sisters as fuel?

A spitting image of my English teacher.
The resemblance is uncanny

  Well the truth is I fucking hate writing more than life itself.  It's more work than I ever get back out of it.  I just sit here, tap, tap, tapping away on this godforsaken keyboard, pretending like I'm making coherent sentences and we all know that isn't the case.  I also have to choke down a lot of resentment and hatred for a one, "Gaconnator" (she knows who the fuck she is).

  We had an understanding that I won't say anything if she won't look, talk, or call on me.  Anyways, she was bat-shit crazy about some grammar.  Like crazy crazy.  Needless to say, I hated the hell out of her, but she taught me an invaluable lesson: anyone can get a job at my high school, no matter how crazy or self-righteous they seem to be.

Pictured: Crazy Crazy

  As I get older, I realize, "Holy fuck, I've been in school for over 17 years and I still have at least another year to go."  I have been trained like an animal to sit in desks, arranged by rows, typically alphabetically, in a depressing white room with some shitty "inspirational and educational" posters on the walls, underneath fluorescent bulbs, where I spent my time contemplating "The Great Escape" all while writing essays, that apparently I should be thankful that I learned.  And you know what, it's all I know.  I feel like the only way I can express myself in an argument anymore is if I write down my views in a 5 paragraph paper.  It's the only way I can think anymore.  I'm a beast who realized that I have secretly been broken.  Fuck me if some one asks me to voice my opinions on the spot, but I digress.  Here's a metaphoric exercise: Try to find out which character is portraying me and which one is portraying The Man.

Here's a hint: I'm not black.

  And now here we are, at the end of this little tale.  I have never liked concluding paragraphs.  It's this whole confusing, "wrap up your whole essay in one paragraph, making everything you just wrote completely fucking pointless."  "Don't say 'in conclusion' or 'as you can tell', that shit is for noobs." I also apologize for not blogging like I'm making money.  Writing kind of really sucks, because of emotional scars I received during the whipping session in the English department.  Keep expectations low, so when I do what I'm supposed to do, people are impressed.

  I forgot to mention that if you can't wait for your next blog by me, follow me on twitter.  I use it every single day, leaving fun little sayings that make even the heavens 'lol'.  http://twitter.com/#!/Rascalkingdom  That is my twitter obviously.  I am the Rascal King and twitter is my kingdom.