Saturday, March 18, 2006

Natural Ego Rampage

(This is not a normal post for a website that is supposed to be a philly nightlife site, not some-jackass-goes-to-a-random-party-site, but then I remembered that I can post up whatever I want, and someone has to read it. So screw you. Now, on to the story.)

I'm going to point something out. If you decide to have a party involving your basement, and you decide that blacklights are trippy so you buy like 12 of them and position them every 10 feet like structural supports, then yeah your highlighter marked walls are going to look really cool. People, on the other hand, are going to look really, really horrifying. Really.

I mean, now you have to drink to make ATTRACTIVE people look attractive.
It's a similar effect to “beer goggles”, the condition where everyone looks hot so you're not sure who actually is. Although this time you're trying to do the same math among lepers with glowing stained teeth, clinical dandruff problems, and diseased, swollen-purple faces.

This was my experience last night. I step into the basement and suddenly, I am in ugly land. It turned out for the best though. After talking to hideous-looking-girls-who-later-turned-out-to-be-attractive for a while, my ego grew to a monstrous size, and began to storm around the building by itself, making that artificially high Godzilla scream.
Alcohol is overrated, a natural ego rampage is much more dangerous. And fun!

Now let me describe this house somewhat.
There's a submerged kitchen, and immediately above that is a balcony from which you can look down on the kitchen. It's very beautiful architecture. But strategically speaking it has some lethal weaknesses for those below.

For example, a girl can throw a cracker box down at a 6 foot 10 frat/jock/beast and can feel safe knowing that there's nothing he can do to her. Especially if after she throws it she ducks and hides behind the railing, and then my housemate helpfully points the beast over to me and says, “It was him.”

Thanks there buddy.

After a few minutes of delicate explaining, shouted from the balcony to the kitchen, I convince him that I am too incoherent to mastermind such a plan as hitting someone in the head with a cracker box. Good work. He throws the box up at me anyway, but misses wildly, further illustrating the advantage of an elevated attack position.

The night goes on, and a few barely mentionable party cliches occur:

Girl shows nipple ring in exchange for premium bathroom line position. Not an attractive nipple, but hey, thats not her fault. She did all she could.

2 Girls making out. Some guy tries to get in the middle with them. I don't think they even notice he's there.

Drunk kid passes out and falls through a chair. I give photography advice on how to capture it properly.

Look, I don't want to downplay the significance of nipple rings, girl on girl action, and drunken injury. They are some of the best things on earth. But really, what is there to say. They're like plastic red cups and exploitative entertainment. You can't find a house party with out them.
And there's nothing else to speak of.

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