Famous Last Words

So last week, Dan (the boyfriend), had a birthday. Not to brag or anything, but I LIVE to throw parties and I’m usually pretty good at it. Instead of a huge birthday party, I planned a fun night for Dan and I at the Hard Rock Hotel (you get to rent $4000 Gibson guitars for free is you stay there!) and Roy’s Japanese/Hawaiian fusion restaurant, complete with a bbq with our awesome group of friends the next day. Friday went as planned and I was gloating in the awesomeness of my surprise for Dan and was nothing but excited for the bbq…until the ENTIRE rugby team showed up.

This is how “The day I almost called every single of one of dan’s teammates’ mothers to tell them how retarded their sons are” went. I was doing some last minute shopping for Vegas (OMG SEE YOU IN 3 DAYS BLOGGERS!!), and as I was walking down the alley to our apt, I heard a party going on. I thought to myself, “That’s weird. It’s only 6 pm. The party doesn’t even start for another 2 or 3 hours.” Must not be from US.

I opened the door to the patio to see a group of rugby girls, who looked like they would eat your small child, standing on our porch while Dan grilled hot dogs. Turns out they were nice and probably WOULDN’T eat your puppy. It was the rugby men who showed up later that I had to worry about.

Let’s break the night down by a somewhat inaccurate timeline (I mean, who can really keep track of stuff when they’re drinking and worried about someone getting a tooth knocked out anyway?)

6pm Rugby girls and a few not-so-drunk rugby guys show up.
6:15 I get home from shopping and am ready to show off my loot, but I figure these gals aren’t the right audience for my frilly beach cover-ups and Vegas dresses. Dan’s too busy entertaining to feign interest, so I put my finds upstairs to be neglected until my friends arrive.
6:17 Dan informs me that we might have a situation on our hands later since the entire rugby team was already at another party 3 apartments down the street from ours.
7-ish Here comes the team, along with a half-eaten cake shaped like a penis from the bachelorette party that was down the street. P.S. WHO WOULD INVITE RUGBY PLAYERS TO A BACHELORETTE PARTY??
7:30 Drinking games start
8:00 Most of my friends and Dan’s have arrived by now and have congregated in the living room. We all sit around for a while on the couches drinking, eating food that had been forgotten about on the grill, and awkwardly trying to avoid the FRAT PARTY that our BBQ has turned into.
8:30 I’ve had one too many vodka ginger ales. Dan introduces me to one of the only nice guys on his rugby team and I blurt out that he looks like a prince from a Disney movie. I then proceed to nickname his Prince Charming. (Because when I’m drunk I turn into a 5 yr old with about the same level of discretion)
9:00 Drunk guy passes out on our couch. His teammates decide to draw on him WITH SHARPIE and take pictures with their naked butts on his face. Did I mention most of these guys are late 20’s early 30’s?
9:15 Bodybuilder (girlfriend of one of the rugby players) does 20 pull-ups off of our doorframe with her FINGERTIPS. I will never be that fit, and frankly, I don’t want to be! Later on she does 5 one-handed pushups on each arm. I think even the tough guys were afraid of her.

ALL NIGHT: THE CHANTING. Sports chanting, or rather ANY chanting annoys the crap out of me. So imagine my feeling when sometime during the night, I realize that one chant, in particular, about the vaginas of your mothers and sisters is being sung on repeat and at the top of 10 guys’ lungs.

So many other things happened that night, like the guy yelling, “Who wants to sleep with me?!” and pulling out his penis, that I’d like to forget.

I would just like to point out that my BBQ would have been awesome, but Dan said, “It’s my party and I want a big one!” (Hence the famous last words title.) Well he got his wish, except by the end of the night, almost all of our actual friends left to go to bars and Dan and I had to stay there and babysit grown men. I had no idea rugby culture was so full of aggression and men who are hard up for some womanly affection (not surprised after meeting these guys).

I will leave you with this genius idea, which I don’t think the guys would agree with or want to hear. Leave the aggression out on the field and maybe you won’t have to have contests about who can sleep with the UGLIEST girls at away games. ← They do that. Dan told me!