There's a certain kind of toe-curling fear that falls down your thigh when you realize that you're the only normally dressed person in a room full of people in animal costumes, even if you consciously understand that you're attending an Animal Farm–themed party. Alcohol will soothe this feeling and allow for unanimalistic things like conversation and joke telling to take place, and things get easier from there.

Besides, these partiers are superfriendly, and committed. There's a woman on roller skates in a flamingo outfit. There's a guy with a big, lazy smile who's dressed as a Care Bear with a huge pot leaf on his belly. Someone else is wearing Björk's swan costume from a few Oscars back. Another woman is carrying a white umbrella with ribbons of bubble wrap flowing around her—a very clever jellyfish costume.

The thing about wearing animal costumes, it seems, is that you want to get... physical. Pigs are hugging cows, bunnies are stroking sheep, bees are humping dinosaurs, and everybody is having a spectacular time. One particularly thrusty fellow crows, "I'm the Paris Hilton of the turkey world!" I watch as a man and a woman meet for the first time. They have a warm conversation about the mammals they're depicting and then the lady whispers something in the man's ear. "Oh," the man says, his face brightening with recognition. "Chlamydia!" They give each other a high-five. In fact, a lot of these animals seem to be going home with each other. Don't they know that this kind of interbreeding is illegal in Washington State now?

Want to tell The Stranger how "it's not a frat, it's a fraternity... you wouldn't call your country a cunt, would you?" at your house party? Email the date, place, time, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.