Wop! Party

stroker: In the tasty blur that is my experience of all the Wop Parties mixed together, I can remember two things clearly about Wop I: the start and the finish.

Gus declared that he wanted a Wop party at the Grotto to celebrate the end of his schoolin', and he wanted it to start precisely at the end of his last final.

mitch: ...and the reason this was funny is that at the time Gus didn't *drink* (much less drink "wop") Hence the whole thing was sort of an ironic joke.

hartmann: It may seem odd, especially to more recent lab denizens who have only seen return to Madison to get completely inebriated, but yes, the wop started out as a joke and became a much-loved tradition.

I did, however drink with Mitch after his last night DJing at dmf and after the Terracom drove me to it.

stroker: As far as the finish goes, I recall passing out under the Grotto's living room table, waking up realizing that people had been spilling drinks through cracks in the table onto me, and starting and finishing my hangover before going to bed that night.

Good times, good times.

Boytcho didn't pull a knife on anyone that year, either.

psilord: Remember the time he drank 6 Darth Mauls at a grotto party, and puked a large amount of hot pink liquid into the yard? Then he passed out next to it, and it started to rain. And we left him there?

P.S. I brought to hot pink drink. I went shopping with Kilroy before the party, and we got the "oh my God I'd never drink that in my life" selection of mixers.

wonko: Which Wop was it where Dave Carley kept asking William if he was a pitcher or a catcher? I'm pretty sure it was the same Wop at which his eyeball capillaries exploded during a particularly rough bout of projectile vomiting ("love means never having to hold your own hair"). Was that the same one as the Darth Mauls, or a year earlier?

craft: And all of the lawn passing out started before 2pm.

Same party. He later vomited along the wall on the stairs as well. Then he locked himself in the bathroom with porn. Then we cut him off and we saw him walk over to a closet where he'd stashed more liquor and we took it from him. Then the knife thing. Then Parter wouldn't let me call detox (still regretting that). Then we let him pass out in the kitchen and the people in the house woke up to a powerfully pungent vomit smell, since he had plastered the kitchen. The people who cleaned it up were saints. I was not one of them.

Good times?