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On December 31st, Tracie Egan aka SlutMachine, a Jezebel writer and very well put-together woman (see photograph), hosted a party at her house. She even held a contest to be her date. We didn't go but apparently we missed some serious partying because today we got a very angry email/blog post. from her in which the phrase "passed out" "puked" and "Paypal" appear numerous times. Apparently her house is a mess. There's glitter on the floor, wine on the walls and a tampon on the couch. She needs help ($$$) cleaning up. As far as post-bacchanal pleas for renumeration go, this is tops and surely will be used as a template for other disgruntled party-throwers who happened to puke and pass out before someone spilled wine on their signed Dolly Parton poster. Now Egan is out $450, there's a hole in her wall and her "ass is really fucked up." Full tirade/plea/amazing artifact of our generation after the jump.
So actually this is also on her blog with pictures but it is somehow more satisfying, at least to me, to read it without the pictures and to create them in your mind.
Before I get started, just know that the cleaning service I called gave me an estimate of $450. Since most of the damage happened after I passed out, I'm not footing this entire bill. In all the years that I've had parties, I've never so much as even asked for someone to stay and help me clean up, let alone chip in for any of the booze or anything. But today, I'm livid. The people who fucked up my shit know who you are. You have to give me something. I don't care if you're poor. If you can't afford to be an asshole, than you shouldn't act like one.You can make a deposit into the "I Can Be Tracie's Friend Again" fund via my PayPal account by clicking the following link. You do not need to have a Paypal account in order to do this.
[She includes a PayPal link here]
I've hosted lots of parties in my day, but nothing—nothing—has ever even neared the level of destruction (and blatant disrespect) that happened at my place after I puked and passed out last night. Seriously, this beats out the time that I had a party when my parents went away when I was 17 and Amanda Spence fell down the steps and broke the spokes of the wooden banister, as well as her cheek bone. I understand you guys are party animals, but frankly, I think that some of you are just plain animals. Like wine spilled all over the walls? Are you kidding me?
And it got on my signed Dolly Parton poster, which as some of you know, is one of my most prized possessions in the world.I heard that Callie fell down the stairs, so I'm assuming that she did this. I also heard that someone poured champagne from the second floor into the Callie's mouth on the first floor. You know, that really fucking pisses me off. There's a fucking television and speakers right there that it could've gotten on, you shit slices. And I know that if that stuff got destroyed, your asses would not compensate me in any way beyond a "Sorry dude." I would never do that in someone's house, whether it's a dump, squat, dorm room or mansion. I wanted people to have a good time. I went out of my way for people to have a good time, and it pisses me off that it was my friends, not strangers, who were doing this shit. I expected a huge mess when I woke up this morning, and expected to do heavy duty cleaning, but this is unreal. I'm fucking pissed.
And who's the asshole who poured beer all over himself? Was that you, Brian? It smells like mildew in here now.
I don't know what the hell was going on in the bathroom downstairs (I do however know about a blow job that went on in the bathroom upstairs...not performed by me), but the shower curtain rod was pulled out of the wall and the rings are broken.
The kitchen suffered damages as well.
There's a hole in the wall, too. It's blurry, but it's there.
I take responsibility for the floors, since the glitter was my idea. It was really pretty when those things popped off.
Oh, and you can't really tell from this picture, but that's an o.b. tampon on my couch. For you boys that don't know, those are the kind you have to finger yourself to use. I don't use them because I don't wash my hands after I use the bathroom.
Anyway, Happy New Year to you all! Even to the assholes who wrecked my place and to the assholes who were the last to leave and left the fucking front door wide open for the entire place to be burgled. I woke up at like 5 am because someone kept calling my phone repeatedly because he thought he left his gloves here. Apparently it was urgent for him to get them, but I'm glad he called, because otherwise, I would've slept through the night with the roof door and the apartment door open.
Also, my ass has the biggest bruise on it and I can't really walk. And this happened to my arm:
I am unable to move. Seriously, my ass is really fucked up. I can't bend over, which is why I called a cleaning service to come here, because it is not humanly possible for me to do this alone. I didn't even include the roof pictures, because there was a pile of chunky puke up there, and as a hangover present, I decided to not include that.
Comments
Oh dear.
2008 is off to an awesome start.
Poor slut machine : (
I feel her pain (but not in the ass).
I spent 3 hours this morning cleaning just the basement of my house. Someone spilled beer all over the pool table, puked on the patio out back (and it was -2 degrees outside!), unscrewed half the lightbulbs in the house (yeah, i know, right?) and managed to smear chocolate into the bar stools. Cleaning hungover sucks ass.
wow. like wow. that really sucks.
mad sympathy for SM.
stories like this are why I will NEVER host a party at my apartment as long as I live in New York City, because it makes you realize that even people that you know are complete lunatics when they get an ounce of booze in them....
Speaking of nausea... this is mentioned in another thread, but still flabbergasts me: Julia Allison is going to be liveblogging on Gawker this afternoon. [juliaallison.tumblr.com]
Do. Not. Want.
I'm beginning to regret telling you how nice you looked in that lavender shirt, Denton.
If it's not an old adage by now, it really should be: "Always a guest and never a host be."
I've had to learn the hard way, on many occasions, that hosting boozefests for a bunch of rowdy twentysomethings is like letting chimpanzees out of the zoo. There's just no way that your place isn't going to get trashed, no matter how classy or "adult" you try to make the party. The second people are drunk, they're going to fuck up your apartment/house/whatever in ways more chaotic and creative than you can possibly anticipate. And good luck getting any of them to help stick around and clean up the next morning.
Very sorry to hear that this happened, Ms. Machine, but consider this a very expensive lesson. Hosting parties just isn't worth it. Not at this age range, at any rate. As I'm not yet over the 20-something hill, I can't report whether or not partygoers stop acting like 12 year olds in a cafeteria food fight once they hit 30. But I'm too scared to find out.
Thats a pretty sweet apartment.
@Furious_George: At some point, around 32, you might realize that a cheese board, a split of champagne, a favorite movie and you is the best way to ring in the New Year.
Good Morning, Anbar Province............
I'm only surprised that she's surprised.
That sucks, but such is life.
(BTW, Josh, taking the old title a little too literally, eh? What's next, you're bringing back Gawker Weekend?)
For a party kicked off with an internet dating contest, I'm not really impressed with the level of mess. I've done that much to my apartment all by myself.
Emily and Michelle could not be revived for comment.
I have the same shower curtain rings. I love them. They roll effortlessly.
Wine stains on the wall? Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.
Also, when you're in your thirties, guests do stick around to help clean up. Guests that expect to be invited back, that is.
@lionel-mandrake:
And here I was thinking that white paint is impossible to properly color match. Does it really work on wine? Because that's pretty damn useful.
@kromelizard: It works on anything. On non-white paint it does leave a slightly lighter patch, but that's still easier than touch-up painting, which never matches either.
@Hez: well, we were warned! (I kind of wonder if denton is still in that lavender period. not the best color on him, actually - washes him out a bit. and really, that sort of evil doesn't belong in pastels.)
so! I kinda want to volunteer to clean ms. machine's (FG, amazing!) house. how would I go about making this sort of devotional statement in a way that let her know I was serious?
This is why when you host the party you have to stay sober enough to babysit people who are roaming around your house or get a roommate/trusted friend to be the designated minder.
I'm sympathetic to Slut Machine, but I've learned the hard way (not this hard, thankfully) that drunk people will indeed trash your house if you're not in the room or if you're passed out.
And yeah, really nice apartment.
I had that same arm scar a month ago. It comes from drinking Scotch.
Nothing is as messy as their souls, Slut Machine. May God have mercy on them.
when it comes to hosting parties, caveat emptor; it is amazing how people whom you consider your friends will so easily show an utter contempt for you and the things you cherish.
My advice to you is to start drinking heavily. By the time you reach 50 or so, it'll be too late to really matter anyhow.
Ok, I may as well be the first one to ask: If the last people to leave left the apartment's front door and roof door wide open, how does she know it was her invited guests who did all this damage?
I believe New York is a comparitive negligence state....
What a crybaby!
All this fuss over 3 shower-curtain rings and a glass of wine on the wall?
Yeah, I am mailing my check right now.
That's a pretty luxurious-looking apartment, with the two levels and all. Just saying.
Also, I hope Callie was conscious when someone poured champagne into her mouth from the second floor. Because there were airways and lungs there that it could have gotten into, you shit slices.
That's astonishingly cool. Beats my own new year's all to shit. Way to go, tracie.
um, is bidding open? because i'll clean it for $300. looked at the pictures after i read the letter and it looks nowhere NEAR as bad as it sounded.
@MisterHippity: The flat-screen is still there.
I also keep my most prized possessions hanging between my ironing board and dust-buster.
@surreal: That arm wound looks pretty painful, though.
Well, sure, her guests got out of control and were assholes but instead of blaming them, maybe she ought to consider that she bares significant responsibility: 1) she set a tone for the party by getting that effed-up that she lost control of her faculties, 2) by getting that effed-up and passing out she lost control of her own party and thus the condition of her apartment and 3) she was a lousy hostess to "leave" her own party early.
Her friends weren't assholes, they were blitzed out of their minds, as was she. Now, for her to ask for some help is a reasonable request (if they don't do something to help, well then, perhaps, they ARE assholes); but to blame them and chastise them so when the hostess herself got so out of control that she passed out doesn't seem reasonable to me.
Not washing your hands after using the bathroom and hosting a party? What could possibly go wrong? Oh wait, copious vomiting.
A few thoughts:
1) Isn't this what happens when you get loaded and pass out at your own NYE party?
2) Who would want to pay to remain this person's friend?
3) We have just witnessed her mental maturity passing from early- to late-20s. She may not have realized it yet, though.
4) She doesn't wash her hands after using the bathroom?!
5) She has 2 bathrooms!?
ok, I sent her an email telling her I'd clean her place. wish me luck - this would be my favoritest stunt yet!
This is why I have only civilized potluck parties at my apartment. (Not kidding!)
I feel bad for her, but that's a damn funny story. A similar thing happened to a friend of mine in college. She hosted a "wine and cheese" party in an attempt to do something other (read classier) than the standard kegger, and boy what an error. Everyone drank the wine like it was beer and quickly entered a new, evil dimension of fucked up. Plenty of weird, destructive and hilarious shit happened that night, leading to quite a few tears the next day for my friend. She got over it though, and now it's probably one of the best stories from school. I'm sure this girl will laugh it off eventually.
After a few parties like this in my younger days ( we mixed in drugs to make it even more interesting, I now spend NYE with a couple of bottles of good wine, great snacks, and DVD's of Mystery Science Theater 3000. Pass out on the couch and no one cares.
Dear SlutM:
New Year = new friends.
Best,
Smith
When Generation Y rules the world, all parties everywhere will be exactly like this. Woo-hoo!
That looks like a fucking nice place. She better live out in bumblefuck or have 10 other roommates...otherwise, NO sympathy.
Let's see...you write tales on the web of blowing guys in bathrooms under the moniker "Slut Machine". What did you expect, My Dinner With Andre?
Potluck wine and cheese dinners are for yuppie pussies, and conversing with people who throw/enjoy potluck wine and cheese parties is usually really boring.
New Year's Eve parties should be about dance-offs, being required to make out with all your secret crushes from college in a game of Spin the Bottle, singalongs to songs you usually feel guilty knowing by heart, and sneaking off to the coat room/bathroom to give consecutive blow jobs to "Rob from Vassar" and "Frat Boy Steve".
Someone menstruated all over a toilet seat at my wedding. OB tampon? Amateur hour.
I didn't go to the party, but got the email since she sent it out to the original invite list. As such, I was in the perfect position to enjoy the awesomeness of the tirade without the guilt of culpability.
@GinaRomantica: Champagne waterboarding. How 2008.
In the last two decades, I've hosted countless parties with coked-out, E-enriched, liquored-up libators and the worst damage at my place has been a few spilled drinks. On the floor. Where spilled drinks belong. Slut Machine needs a better definition of "friend."
Some people consider waking up from a hard night of partying with a sore ass as an accomplishment.
PS: Oral sex in bathroom, especially not your own bathroom, especially public bathrooms, is like tattos: a thing that sounds neat, edgy and counter-cultural but is, in retrospect, a disgusting thing that doesn't age very well.
Wait, so did Elvis Costello show up after she passed out?
@collegecallgirl: At the New Year's Party I attended, I just kept making sure that the cheese trays were full and that champagne was uncorked. It wasn't my party, and I was insanely rocked by numerous substances while doing this. Everyone was like, relax, it's not your party, and I'm like, I am so relaxed, I luuuuuuv catering!
@SinisterRouge:
I know, right?
First floor/second floor/ roof access?
She better sleep in her kitchen cabinets.