8.50 PM: Your party starts at 9, which means your party really starts at least an hour later. There’s always that one kid who shows up at your door
10.00 PM: Your living room is filling up nicely, but you notice that not everyone got the BYOB-memo. Oh, well, you already knew you had snakes for friends, right?
11.30PM: One person decides to be the life of the party and genuinely believes it’s the right time for “TEQUILAAAA”. Although no one is actually buzzing to be doing double shots, they still manage to convince the entire room to drink along.
12 AM: Apparently word of your epic house party is spreading like wildfire because you’re pretty sure you didn’t invite that random group standing in the kitchen. By this time however, everyone is your best friend, so you couldn’t care less.
12.30AM: Someone tries to rally the squad to leave the house party for some mediocre bar in the city, but obviously fails because this is where all the alcohol is.
1.30 AM: A handful of latecomers show up at your doorstep more four hours after the party was supposed to start. You wonder what they have been up to, but forget about asking as soon as you rush back to the kitchen to shove some beers in their hands.
2AM: Ah, the long-awaited moment has come: your neighbours have had enough and start complaining. You wonder “What would the Great Gatsby do?” and decide the show must go on.
THE MORNING AFTER: As you gather the courage to roll out of bed with your head spinning, you assess the damage of last night. Your feet are plastered to the beer-soaked floor and you notice that your [insert any random household item] is missing. You go through your photos and messages and stumble on some questionable if not incriminating content and decide to go back to sleep.