A List of Some of the Strangest Parties I've Attended
1. The Kissing Party
It all started with my right leg.
"I like your tights..."
Stranger Danger then began to stroke my leg as if I had came there for this moment to occur.
"They're like...seahorses..."
He continued to trace the patterns on my legs as if I had came. There.
"Are they seahorses?"
"Sure. Why not."
I shot a glance at my friend seated across from me, who was trying not to laugh at the situation I had found myself in. I started laughing. Stranger Danger continued stroking.
"WELL that's enough!" I said in my most polite voice.
"I'll come talk to you later," he replied, winking at me. What is this, 1955? Are you gonna offer me a root beer float, as well? Maybe afterwards we can catch a flick down at the ol' drive-in, Daddy-O.
Just as the Sinatra imposter promised, he returned, but this time, he neglected my thigh and went for my cheek.
"Uhhhh HEYYYY there buddyyyy..." I awkwardly responded. My friend looked at me after he strolled away.
"Did he just kiss you?"
"Yep."
"I thought so..."
"Yep."
"Why?"
"I have no idea."
"This is getting weird."
She spoke too soon, for shortly after, a man who was walking as if he was on a boat in the middle of a storm advanced onto the porch.
"Whoo aref youuuu?"
"I'm Natasha..."
"Why are you lea--leaning stoo---to the s-side?"
I'm getting sick of typing like this. I'm going to type regularly now, just remember that he was slurring.
"I'm just...you know...leanin!"
"I know what you're doing. You're leaning away from me."
"No! No I'm not!"
Yes. Yes I was.
"Why are you leaning away from me?"
"Because this is how I sit!"
Because your lips almost brushed my lips. And because you reek of whiskey.
"I wanna kiss you."
"What?"
"Can I kiss you?"
"No, no, that's not a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't even know you."
"So?"
"SO - I'm not going to kiss you."
"Fuck you."
"WHAT?"
"Just kiss me."
"No."
"Quit being a hipster."
"What?"
The fuck?
"You know you're a hipster."
"What does that have to do with kissing?"
"Kiss me."
"WHAT?"
And then he leaned in for the taking, but luckily, I have a functioning neck.
"I missed your lips."
"Yep. Sorry."
"You turned your head."
"Yes. I did do that."
Let's just narrate everything, shall we? What the fuck kind of children's book is this?
"I have to kiss you."
"No, you already got my cheek. That's enough kissing for you."
"Fine. Fuck you."
"Alright."
"Kiss me."
"No."
"Fuck you."
Am I having deja vu?
Eventually he stumbled away (to attack someone else, I'm sure), and I was left again with my main witness.
"Did he just kiss you?"
"Yep."
"It happened again?"
"Yep."
"What is going on? Why is everyone kissing you?!"
"I have no fucking idea. Do I just look like someone who came here for kissing? Am I letting off "kiss me" vibes right now? What kind of Drew Barrymore movie is this?"
"Did I just see him kiss you?"
"I GUESS EVERYONE DID."
"Well, now I'm gonna kiss you, too!"
"Well, sir, you'd be the third guy to do it. Let's make a world record!"
"I'm going to!"
"Go ahead! I don't even care at this point. FREE KISSES, EVERYONE. SINCE THAT'S WHAT I FUCKING CAME HERE FOR, APPARENTLY."
And then he kissed me on the head. Three down - one to go, the fourth being the only person I actually did want to kiss me, but you know what they say. Save the best for last?
2. The "There's a Man in The Bed" Party
This was less of a party and more of the nightly routine of my friends and I. Drink. Play beer pong. Keep drinking. Drunk.
One girl got wasted and went upstairs to go to bed. While she---
OKAY OKAY YOU CAUGHT ME. THE GIRL WAS ME. HAPPY NOW? YOU WANT A GOLD STAR, DO YA? FUCK YOU.
I'm going to fast-forward to the next morning because I think it explains this story a bit better.
"So..." I said to Dečko, "I think I freaked out Sam last night..."
"How so?"
"Well...I went to bed...and you went to bed...but I didn't know it was you in the bed..."
"What?"
"I'M ABOUT TO SOUND LIKE A PSYCHO."
"Ha! What happened?!"
"I got out of bed in the middle of the night and went downstairs and Sam was the only one down there, and I was like, 'Where's my boyfriend, where's my boyfriend...'"
"You didn't see me right next to you?"
"Uhhh...that's not the weird part."
"Well...?"
"So I was all like, 'Where is he, where is he,' and Sam was like, 'He's upstairs in his room with you,' and I was like, 'No, no, there's a man up there. He's lying down beside me. The man in the bed told me to find my boyfriend.'"
"The...what?"
"Yeah, I told Sam that the man in the bed told me to find you, and he looked at me like I was comPLETELY out of my mind, and then he said, "Your boyfriend is up there. There's no "man in the bed..." that's your boyfriend..." and then I just stood there like an inbred who came from the hills and then I turned around and walked back upstairs. And by the way, Sam was right. It was you in the bed. Not "the man.""
"Well that's good to know. At least you left the man in the bed to come find me."
"That's EXACTLY what I was thinking."
"Maybe I told you to find me..."
"Maybe you did...like in a drunken stupor..."
"Yeah, I mean, I do talk in third person sometimes..."
"Yeah, yeah...yeah, that could be it."
"Hopefully."
3. The Disabilities Party
"Hey, so there's a party tonight if you guys wanna go."
"Who's party is it?"
"Janet's."
"Who's Janet?"
"A girl I work with. She's a midget."
"How short is she?"
"I don't know. Midget-sized."
"Wait, is she literally a midget?"
"Yeah."
"Like, midget-midget?"
"Yeah. But don't say midget."
"Why?"
"It's really offensive to them. It's like calling a black person the n-word."
"Well, obviously I'm not going to be like, 'Hey! You're a midget!'"
"Don't say midget."
"I'm not going to say midget."
"Don't say midget!"
"YOU JUST SAID IT!"
"Say 'dwarf.'"
"I'm not going to say either of them. I'm going to introduce myself as I would to anyone else. Good god."
"Okay. But don't say midget."
"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO KEEPS SAYING IT!"
"Don't say midget."
"Let's just go."
On the car ride over there...
"I really wish you hadn't of told me not to say 'midget.' Now I'm going to get drunk and it's all I'll be able to think about."
"Don't say it to her or to James."
"Who's James?"
"Another dwarf."
"And he'll be at the party?"
"Yeah."
"WHAT THE FUCK MAN."
"It's a work party."
"Work party?"
"Yeah, with everyone I worked with at the Disabilities Center."
"Wait...so..."
"Mostly everyone there has some sort of disability."
"Like...?"
"You know, paralyzed people...so they're wheelchair bound...dwarfs...like that."
"Are you fucking with me right now?"
"I'm dead serious, dude. They're all really cool."
"Well of course they're cool. Just because they're handicapped doesn't mean they're not normal. I just wish you had warned me this was a disabilities party before we went."
"I did warn you before we went. Just now."
"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN."
"It'll be fine. Just don't say 'midget.'"
"I'M GOING TO GET DRUNK AND SAY MIDGET I JUST KNOW IT."
"Don't do it."
"FUCK."
"Don't, Natasha."
"JESUS CHRIST, MAN."
"Don't."
"I need to get it all out of my system. Now."
"What do you mea---"
"Midgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidg---"
"Please stop that."
"I'm not even trying to be funny right now. I seriously need to get it out."
"Fine."
"Midgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidgetmidget...I'm done now."
"Good."
Luckily, my tactic worked. I didn't say the m-word at all that night, and I met a lot of great people. Of course, just like any other party, I never saw any of them ever again.
...the man in the bed is telling me to stop writing now.
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