Your Housewarming Sucked So I Turned On All Your Gas Burners and Left

To describe your housewarming in one word: shit

When you sent me that Partiful invite I was actually excited to go to your party. I toiled over what to bring as a housewarming gift for MINUTES before buying the cheapest bottle of champagne at ACME for you. I threw on my best fit and even waited until 9:30 pm to pull up so it would be bumping by the time I walked in.

So, why the fuck were your overhead lights on when I walked in your door. Why were you blasting Clairo, and why was Blue Raspberry Svedka the only alc there. Why were all your friends chopped, and why did I have to Venmo you ten bucks, all that and no room tour?! 

I must say, however, there was one enticing part of your house: the kitchen. So many possibilities to get this party started; cookie cutters, knives, rolling pin, oh, and the gas stove. I couldn’t help myself. There had to be some sort of retribution for what you put me and everyone else at your housewarming through. I don’t regret turning all of the burners to maximum and hitting an Irish goodbye.

I left praying that someone would flick their lighter and reduce your house to ashes.