Leave a Comment80’s Bash/ Hannah’s 21st Birthday!
Leave a Comment
come celebrate hannah’s 21st birthday and the dopest decade around… the 80s! the hotbox is throwing one more crazy party before the end of the school year, and we want YOU to be there. dress to the max in your best 80s gear, and dont forget to brush up on your 80s slang. (here’s some suggested reading… http://www.tripletsandus.com/80s/slang.htm and/or http://www.inthe80s.com/glossary.shtml)
there will be plenty of dance music, alcohol, and fun. cant wait to see you there!!
may 19th, 2007
10ish pm
the hotbox
317. 640. 3854 (call hannah with questions)
or check us out on facebook.
sigma lambda divers
Comments (3)
the hotbox has had the devine pleasure of living next door to an anomaly. a house that systematically replenishes a crop of boys every 8 months. when we first moved in and realized that there were about 12 guys living 6 feet away, we knew we were at least in for a good time. what we didn’t know was that we would grow to love these boys (or at least a couple of them) and that they would leave us, alone and unprotected, only a few short months later.
we started calling the house next door Sigma Lambda Divers. it just seemed to fit, considering the similarities that it holds to a frat house. our favorite SLD, Jake, started bringing a couple boys around from their brother house, Diver Pi Beta. Scuba Pete and Lawrence (aka Sean) were instantly taken under the wing of the hotbox and quickly proved their worth by working the keg at the butt plug party. the amazing thing about these boys is that we immediately trusted them. i probably would have trusted any of the three of them with my life within the first 4 hours of knowing them… which is not a normal thing for me, despite what you may have heard.
because of the bullshit rules that these diver-frats had (like no drinking or cigarettes or something like that), they ended up spending many an uninvited evening drinking 40s of highlife of our porch… and sure, we let them pee in our bathroom. coming home from a long day at work or school and being greeted by a diver, wearing a smile just for you… what more could a boxeteer want in life?
and i guess they liked us alot too! maybe as a payback for our hospitality, or maybe because they truely loved us, they also acted as our own personal body guards and bouncers. whenever we had parties at the hotbox, they made sure that there were no shady fucks and that people left when they were told… not to mention coming over just to make sure we were doing okay, asking if everything was alright when britt’s car window was broken, and checking in on us a few times when the power was out for like 3 days @ the hotbox.
and as you may have guessed… you put a bunch of boxeteers in close proximity to some attractive man-boys, and you’re bound to ignite a fire or two. fire #1: morganza and scuba pete. when we first met peter, he was totally “the cute one.” we didn’t really know him, but with his shaggy hair and button nose, we all knew that he was going to mean trouble… in a strictly good way. and we were right of course. ganza was drawn in and in no time, she was playing tonsil hockey with a non-swearing alaskan. hott. fire #2: jake and marie & morgen. now this fire didn’t exactly burn as brightly as some may have hoped, but the desire for a red hot threesome with a guy who’s too much man for one woman is all that matters. fire #3: hannah and sean lawrence. this fire, although sticks were rubbed together and i threw in some kindling and newspaper, did not actually start burning until a mere 5 days before the divers left us. but burn it did. again and again, everynight for 5 nights. man, oh man. (i gotta go wipe.)
so anyways… divers, if you’re out there, we miss you boys a ton already. new divers will come and go, of this we can sure, but none of them could even come close to replacing you guys. its been a wild ride, and we truely wish it didn’t have to end. see you in five years at the hotbox reunion. until then, with love from the hotbox…
(the picture above is a pretty acurate caricature of one of the divers and the boxeteer who seduced him…)
and if you’re not into artist renditions, here’s the real thing: (sean, jake, peter)
i got so high…
and forgot what i was going to write. i smoked, sat down, stared at my computer screen not knowing what to do with myself. while i sat and pondered the stars and the moon, i was lucky enough to stumble upon a brilliant idea to blog about. nerdy, i know. but anyway… i opened the blog site and somewhere amidst the loading process stumbled across a million other different things to distract myself with, you know, for a good 45 minutes. and here i am, officially done being distracted, well, for who knows how much longer, and i remembered the reason why i fucking sat here in the first place. i was going to write a fucking blog. ah yes, about control – don’t ask. but now i am too lazy to think that hard and remember what brilliant things i had to write about. yet sadly enough, i’m almost positive that reading this was just as entertaining – regardless of the lack of “brilliance”. fuck.
everyone should write stoned on here. however, marie, i can’t compete.
Pretty fuckin stoned…
I’m just sitting here listening to Fiona Apple and reading words that fit the color that is on my insides. I like to know people’s favorite color. It lets me know what’s on their insides.
It’s pretty difficult to force your thoughts into little word boxes. You imprison your world/reality in categories. It’s closing in. That’s what makes you itch; the boxes being stuffed too tight. The walls don’t follow reason – but they have been there for so long! Who cares. How are we different, how are we the same? blocks, legos, math, grammar, identities, realities – they just build and build and build and we learn – we forget the helpless mindless animal state to be robots. work work do do do. But what for? for anything! for god and country! for your parents’ approval! For the hell of it, because we’re lazy
So strange. I used to not know who I was. then i woke up and realized the problem is wanting to be Something instead of knowing that I am anything, everything, really that we are no – thing. Different colored cups filled with the same water or decorative holes of the same lamp; the light is what shows us that we are. In actuality we are the absence of the lamp and the same undifferentiated light shines through.
I have been distracted
Peace in the Middle East
a stoner’s gratitude – long overdue.
An excerpt from my own blog site – see link on sidebar:
Birthdays are overrated. Well, so they say. I try not to have any expectations around my birthday, because, as one is easily inclined to assume, you can’t possibly be disappointed with this frame of mind. Furthermore, as cliché as this may sound, people should be nice and show their love and affection for one another on a day to day basis, not just more liberally on holidays. After all, it is just another day. Nevertheless, I will not deny that I bask in the generosity that does unfold on this day.
However, growing up there are a number of expectations that are associated with every birthday. On your 15th birthday, you can get your drivers permit, which inevitably means that you are that much closer to becoming 16 and therefore capable of embarking on the journey of your own life with your very own drivers license. That is if you chose to do so. Then there is 17, “woo hoo!! I don’t have to sneak into rated R movies and worry about getting caught anymore!” 18 – um, I’m an adult now and maybe I will pick up the habit of legally smoking cigarettes and hell, if I am not already angry enough at the government, I may even vote. 19 – unless you live in the north, this is a pretty useless birthday. However, as for us in the northwest, this means that we can go to Canada and get wasted legally – without worrying about what kind of debauchery I may cause while blacked out. Or not. And of course 20 begins the countdown to the predestined 21.
After 21, what is left? Some graduate college, others get married, while everyone is inevitably scrounging around to get a job. Then you have kids and your life is taken on from there. Nevertheless, these may all be truly beautiful things, but that doesn’t change the fact that turning 21 is such a big deal.
Point being, I had a wonderful birthday filled with innumerable celebratory activities. The weekend prior was a 3-day weekend (off for me) for which my college roommate from freshman year, traveled all the way from Montana just to share in the excitement of my birth. Furthermore, my girlfriend and roommates (with the exception of Morgen who chose school over fun – boo you whore!) all traveled north for some wild adventures in Canadi-day-dia – don’t ask. We had a pretty damn good time, to say the least, but I’l save that for another blog.
My birthday fell on a Thursday (which, if you didn’t already know, is pretty much my favorite day of the week), so of course I had to go out to the bars, legally, for the first time exactly at midnight. I gathered some of my “of-age” roommates – Brittany, Morgen, and Marie – and ventured over to John’s house to pre-funk with my favorite person, Mary Jane. We smoked our brains out. So by the time we left to go to the bar, we were essentially on the brink of retardation. So off it was to the Duchess to not only meet my other wonderful friend Tyler, but also get progressively get more and more wasted until the bar was closed. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t go to bed until 3:30am and still had to wake up at 5:45am in order to register for Spring quarter classes. Moreover, I could only go back to sleep for another hour before I had to wake up for Spanish at 7am. Not only was I obligated to go due to participation points, regardless if it was my birthday or not, but I also had classmates expecting me to bring in our project to present to the class. Then of course, after class I had plans to meet my father and spend the rest of the day with him until I went to work. After all, he did travel 3 hours just to take me to lunch and buy me a beer. Cool guy. Regrettably, I was too hung over to do much else, so he took me home, and left me to fill the brief moment of time prior to going to work with as much nothingness as possible. And this is where my gratitude comes in….
I had a really rough week emotionally that week. Granted, there was a lot of excitement but I still managed to have my own stuff going on too. Not only was it almost the end of the quarter, and therefore the workload was fairly excruciating, but I was hung over and out of it due to lack of sleep and just wasn’t overly enthused about my birthday in general just because I was still going to school, I had to work that night, in addition to the test I had the next day. So when Hannah invited me over to the place she was house sitting that night to go in the Jacuzzi, I was freaking stoked…
After what at first appearance seemed to be the worst birthday ever, I was magically surprised by a completely different outcome. I left work and came home rather quickly in order to grab my bathing suit. At this point I should have been suspicious as there wasn’t a single person at the house, which doesn’t happen very often considering there are 7 people living here. But I was kind of in my own gloom emotionally and unaware of my very own surroundings. Little did I know that when I would get there that I would be greeted with what Hannah and the gang had collaborated to create – a surprise hotbox birthday party. They had streamers, balloons, presents, yummy cake and candles, and probably the sweetest piñata anyone has ever seen (with all the hot sexy female Disney characters on it – haha). Oh, and don’t let me forget, they rolled the sweetest blunt that we inevitably smoked in the hottub while placying a mind-fuck of a game called “psychiatrist”. But what really made it cool was that every single roommate was able to share in the extravaganza. With so many people living in one house, it is really difficult to get everyone’s schedules to line up perfectly as to all hang out together. Bottom line, I burst into tears when I walked through that door. I was so incredibly surprised and so deeply touched. I had had what seemed to be the worst birthday ever, and was given the opportunity to instantly witness the greatest transformation into the best birthday ever.
On a sappy note, with everything that I have been through in the last few years, and more specifically with my family, it has been a long time since anything has ever felt like home to me. To get all emo on your asses, everything just seemed like a broken home, and I was on my own trying to figure things out and find my place in this world, while still being consumed by the fact that I had to constantly pick up the pieces – in the end nothing felt like home to me. And that is a very uncomfortable, unstable, and scary feeling. However, this year, for the first time in a long time, I have found a place that feels like home. That is the most comforting feeling I have ever felt… in a very long time. So this is my stoner’s gratitude for having such unique, inspiring, remarkable, and doting roommates and friends in the whole world. If it weren’t for you guys, who knows what would be…
From my heart to yours, Thank you.
Brophy
canadabox
everyone always say, “blame canada.” but i say, “shame canada.” and thats exactly what the hotbox and its subsidiaries did this weekend. sadly, morganza could not be there (because school has stolen her soul), but eli, mere, britt, marie, brophy, gregor, hannah c., chad, and i went all the way to CANADA to celebrate the birth of the one and only… JESSICA ROSE BROPHY. and man oh man!
on saturday morning, we all got up (relatively) bright and early. hannah clark (brophy’s freashman roommate) and chad (hannah’s boyfriend) came up the day before from mazula… and by about noon we were all ready and rarin’ to go, especially brittbritt! after a few stops, turn-arounds, and ‘oops i forgot my passport’s, we got on the road with a sign in the back clearly stating that we were headed to “CANADA OR BUST, bitch.” a couple joints and a bag of white cheddar popcorn later, we were at the border. they didnt even look at our passports (luckily, since i am not a real citizen of the united states… or a real human for that matter… shit!), and we headed for van couver and our hotel.
van couver is amazing. in a lot of ways. when you drive into it, across a big brigde, and the city comes rolling into view, i was instantly thrown into the year 3000. the way the sun hit the hundreds of tall buildings, mostly residential with balconies on everyroom, made the windows appear to be busted out. the streets and smaller buildings are not visible at first and it looks like the city is empty. abandoned. the mountains or water close in around the city on all sides. and it makes for an amazing, interesting first impression.
we crammed into the hotel rooms and headed out on the town. time to hit the amsterdam cafe. for those of you who don’t know, its a little cafe/smoke shop in which you can smoke pot. isn’t canada cool? we just drank coffee and smoked a giant blunt… surrounded by freakin canadians rollin joints and saying things like ‘eh’ and ’soarry.’ at least they weren’t french, eh?
after dinner and a much needed nap/giggle-fest 2k7 (it was the first time that certain people got to hear my gurgle-laugh… how exciting), the bars began to call our names. “hoooootbooooox… coooome driiiiink wiiiiith uuuuuuus.” how can you resist the call of nature? so we bar hopped and smoked joints on the street until we got to the speakeasy. we had this really sweet bartender named tempest, and an unfortunate interaction with this tool named dave. dave, dressed in his black suit and orange, shiny vest and tie, was totally into gregor and brophy. he would not leave them alone and didn’t quite understand that they were not only NOT into him, but also homosexual GIRLFRIENDS. get a clue, homeboy. after time and time again of getting shot down by these beautiful ladies, chad had to nicely tell him to step off. now, dave did not like this one bit. he grabbed chad’s shirt and asked him if he “wanted to take this outside.” what a douchebag. he got kicked out of the bar but waited outside for chad and then got in his face over and over. “do you want me to smash your face in, lesbian boy?” and all chad could say was, “i would LOVE for you to smash my face in, dave.” oh man… chad stayed very calm and collected. what a man. (dave also told me to “shut the fuck up” and called me a lesbian. hmm…)
so after that silly fiasco, we headed back to the hotel for a bowl, some bagel chips, and sleepy time. and the morning brought more silliness. it took a group of 6 stoned individuals and 3 sober monkeys almost an hour to find/decide on a place to eat. we finally ate at this place called cafe crepe, where we played a rivetting game of telephone, and mere and i ate a delicious nutella and banana crepe for dessert. yum. then we ventured to stanley park. it was pretty entertaining; we played by the water, looked at totem poles, and did handstands…
and then hit the road. it took us like 2 hours to get across the boarder (we were smuggling drugs and other illegal things into the states, which was thankfully easier than we all thought).
all in all, canada was a pretty rockin time. rock n roll.
Hmmm
Today, I found myself victim to one of the classic blunders: Never get involved in a land war in Asia….no wait, wrong blunder. I got out of class this afternoon, with more than an hour before a meeting, and realized that I had packed my Ipod but had left any kind of head or ear phones at home. Much to my dismay, I am now sitting quietly in the dim lighting of Allen, listening to the dull tap-tap-tapping of the keyboards that surround me on all sides. While I seriously considered running home in the hour that I had of free time, I thought, “No, that’s just silly,” and continued on with my afternoon until I found myself here. Don’t get me wrong, I do love hearing the incessant chattering that exists in this library…despite written signs and the “Are you fuckin kidding me?” look that I occasionally shoot across the room. But, I do wish I was listening to something rythmic and full of soul (just like me) .
Anyway, I really had no point in writing this blog. I’m just bored and had some time to spare so I thought I would try to be some-what productive…and then I wrote this post.
I’ll try to have more of a point next time haha.
Sorry.
Are you there God, it’s me, Margaret.
Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret.
You said you would always be there. You said all I had to do was ask, and you would be there. I just had to let you in. Well, here I am, calling your name – screaming it, as a matter of fact. And you are not there.
God? Are you there?
What about that paper I asked you to write. You know it’s due tomorrow. Where is it? I thought that you would be the most suited for the job, considering it is on the topic of religion.
God, do you not believe in yourself? I believe in you. You can do it.
So um.. Get that God Damn paper written or I’ll flatulate myself on the shoreside.
I’m just kidding. I’d probably just get pissed off and smoke some weed and then confess to my priest later. You still love me right?
Oh all forgiving and loving God, are you there?
Margaret
**inspired by the talented Gregor Stoddard.
hotbox shindig
hey, everyone!
come get faded with the hotbox…
and break your new year’s resolution (unless your resolution was to get wasted and get fucked… cause then you’d totally achieve it.)
bring your party face, your friends, your mom… whatever you want.
NO ZOMBIES ALLOWED.
see you there!
love, the hotbox.
