These two self-proclaimed "birthday twins"—he's going by the handle "Safety," she by "Pleasure"—are throwing down a party. A few days ago, they had another birthday celebration—Safety's a bike messenger, and Pleasure's a member of the .83 Ladies Division girl cycle gang, so they hosted a bike safari that started in Westlake and wound up at the People's Pub in Ballard. It sounds like a great time, but my Plus Ones and I prefer to keep our drinking stationary, so we opted for the party with a much smaller chance of knee skinning.

Safety's looking dapper in a tie, and Pleasure's wearing a corset dress that's eliciting some strong emotions. "Look at these!" one (female) partyer screams at the sight of the corseted boobs. Pleasure demurely starts straightening her dress, but the delighted partyer grabs them and shouts, "No! No! Let 'em hang, honey!" Another woman says, "I told my friend I was going to a birthday party tonight, and he said he might come. Then I said I was going to a birthday party for a gorgeous, tall redhead who's single..." she looks at her watch "...and he should be here any minute now."

Friends keep coming from all over. Musicians talk to internet-startup entrepreneurs next to the sad-looking man in a "9/11 was an Inside Job" T-shirt. Pleasure, who officially turns 27 tomorrow, picks up a tiny woman and flings her around like a rag doll. "It's gonna be my rock-star year!" she shouts excitedly. If she's not a rock star yet, everybody better duck and cover at midnight, because she might just turn radioactive.

Want The Stranger to hear how "everything about Providence (Rhode Island) is fuckin' awesome... except for the TV show Providence" at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.