Anatomy of the Kind of Party to Remember Forever

Contents:

• tequila


• margarita mix


• one less couch


• hair gel


• spiders


• tequila


• strapless bra


• albertson's bread


• mix CDs from three years ago


• people who don't know each other


• tequila

Directions:
She finally moved out, but she took her couch with her. We thought we need more furniture, it was a party, afterall. So we brought in another couch from the backyard. Now that was a bad idea.

Move cinder blocks in order to move couch in. Move giant recliner chair to move couch in. Move all contents of house to move couch in.

Move couch in.

Set down couch.

Retrieve FeBreeze. Douse liberally. Get sheet to cover couch.

Begin screaming.

Spray spiders with FeBreeze. Enlist help.

Scream more.

Party people arrive.

Couch and spiders are kicked out of the house.

Party people do homework.

How do you do? I am from Chicago. Oh really, what side? I hear it's hot there now. ... Would you like a margarita? Actually, could I just get some lemonade with a little tequila? Sure, no problem. ... What's your Web site? Dot com or net? Okay, I'll link to you. ... I really don't think you should have another drink. Here, have some coffee and bread. ... So you want to write? Are you any good? The more I write the smaller I become.

Party people leave. Five remain. Four computers. Music on low.

Venting.

I hate it when. Me too. Get over yourself. Why is this house so frickin hot all the time? Stop whining. I'm so glad she moved out. People should really only be allowed to say a certain amount of words. I like this house with only one couch. It feels like a frat house. This CD sucks. Stop whining. This book has pictures of naked ladies. Yeah, but they look like men. Give me more bread. This bread is life-changing. This margarita is life-changing. Your mom is life-changing. STOP TALKING.

Car ride.

Dashboard.

I remember when Dashboard was indie. Yeah, did you like them then? What if I did? STOP TALKING.

Two bean burritos.
Three soft taco supremes.
One beef chalupa.

These f-in' train tracks always make my CD skip. You suck. Please, tell ONE MORE STORY. STOP TALKING.

Goodnight. Sleep hard.