Holy shit is the only phrase strong enough at the moment.

Johnny, my lovely freshman flatmate, has decided to have a party in my flat. There are now 6 people in my room that are not me, only two of which were invited in by me. There are a least thirty people in here. I am so angry at him. I don't mind a party, but it would be nice if he at least asked/warned us. Grr. Ugh. Ick. I'm never going to get to sleep.

Edit: Two hours later, security came and broke it up. Sarah and I explained that we had nothing to do with it, and the guards seemed relatively understanding. The male one obviously isn't fond of people from Carrick, which Johnny is. Johnny still has a girl here, and they're talking rather loudly in the kitchen, but at least it's not thirty people anymore.