Our hosts are like an artistic A-Team: There's the photographer, the digital-media specialist, and the graffiti artist, who also dabbles in sewing and fashion. It's Tuesday, so they've filled the fridge with cheap beer, made some great guacamole, and brought out a bunch of art supplies. Grab the glitter; it's a Shit Art Party.

Everyone brings a piece of art retrieved from a thrift store. There are photos of lounging kittens that look disturbingly like Playboy centerfolds, Bob Ross—style landscape paintings, and weird Rockwellian renderings of naked children frolicking in a lake. Each piece of "art" gets a number and partyers draw a number from a hat. Then they have about an hour to improve their randomly selected work of art. Artists spread out on the floor, using paint and rubber stamps and fabric and that most vital weapon in the artist's arsenal, the hot-glue gun, to prettify the folk art.

It's time to draw a number again: Nobody leaves with the work of art that they brought, or that they added to. Partyers have to explain the art that they randomly selected as though it were the artwork they created. "If a squirrel were to break into my house, it would attack my painting's multicolored hue," someone says. "I was discriminated against as a woman lately, so the arrow in this painting obviously had to go into the woman's uterus there," someone else pontificates. After all the art is redistributed, it's time to unwind the way the Pre-Raphaelites did: Beer-Pong in the game-a-torium downstairs.

Want The Stranger to ascertain that one painting's smiley face symbolizes a suicidal tendency in the artist at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.