Apparently, my research assistant tells me, the fifth of May is some sort of obscure holiday called "Sink-Oh Demayo," but whatever: Our hosts are having a Mexican-themed party! The front yard has transformed into a wrestling pit—and a bunch of partyers, dressed in underwear with mustaches sewn on the front for decoration, all joined in on a lucha libre royal rumble, a battle so ruthless that no clear victor can be declared.

Everyone grabs a 40 of PBR and heads to the garage to listen to Goldaline play their first public appearance. Goldaline, with their horn section and multiple singers and sprawling instrumentals, sound a lot like a garage-band version of the Decemberists. But their unpolished vibe is a plus, and their set is pretty exciting, especially an improvised song with a few fake-Spanish lyrics—mostly "Conquistador-ay!" repeated over and over again.

In the house, there are swatches of brown fabric and duct tape to create your own mustaches, and in the backyard it's time to put a pair of panties on your head and take a swing at the piñata. One woman proclaims her hatred: "That thar piñata better be scared, because I'm pissed!" The piñata goes down almost immediately, showering the crowd with candy, airplane bottles of tequila and gin, and condoms. And then it's back to the garage for a Mexican dance party. People are sticking maracas into odd parts of their bodies, and others are playing matador with bullish partyers. One woman asks a man about the fish jutting out of the fly of his jeans. "It's delicious bass," he explains, helpfully adding, "Shut up!"

Want The Stranger to hear how "There's a lot of things I'm gonna tap tonight and the Dos Equis ain't on that list" at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.