Tools
Where: A Redmond subdivision
We walk into the house, which is indistinguishable from others in its neighborhood, and elicit more stares than a drunken Britney Spears dancing on a bar. The invitation said that the party was for "overweight chicks and the ones who admire them," and being of a smaller size and younger age, we gain the irritation of several larger and older people. We fear for our social well-being, and seek the hostess to betray our identity.
With our origins thus established, people start to lighten up and offer us drinks and vodka-soaked cherries, which taste like an unpleasant shot of Stoli, albeit one that you have to chew. As we look at the display of five-layer dip, crudités, and pastries, the hostess apologizes for how little food is left, even though there's still enough to feed us and take home leftovers. As word spreads, people start showboating, showing us how they received the beads around their necks. We see some fun-bags, and are told if we want to fart we should do it outside, because the ladies can't move fast enough to escape the odor. A member of the posse engages in a game of "toss the grape into my mouth," and the grape thrower slips and falls onto a cupcake, creating a hilarious mess that other partygoers clean up.
Stranger Personals
As the boisterous women and other guests start to leave, we receive several enveloping hugs, and a particularly rowdy man tells us that we "make him feel old." Sir: You make us feel boring!
Want The Stranger to crash your house party? E-mail partycrasher@thestranger.com with the date, time, and location.
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