My Plus One and I start out downtown, at an all-day freak party. We
arrive just in time to see a performer named KEG. KEG is a one-man
hair-metal band, which is kind of a brilliant idea—if Axl played
all the instruments on the Guns N’ Roses albums, we’d probably be
listening to Chinese Democracy 3: The Rockening by now. KEG does
an amazing cover of “20th Century Boy” by first laying down the drum
track and then setting two distinct guitar riffs at each other, and
singing and high-kicking over that. It’s an impressive show, a great
cover, and a lively performance.
Some men at the party are wearing Utilikilts. My Plus One hates
Utilikilts, and I have to back her up: With all the pleats, rivets, and
tool-hanging straps, they’re trying too hard to overcompensate on the
masculinity angle. If you’re going to be a man in a skirt, you should
own that shit.
Case in point: I head north to a toga party. These are men who are
comfortable enough to wear, basically, off-the-shoulder sarongs while
playing beer pong and telling dirty jokes to shocked women. “All we
need are some young boys and a vomitorium!” someone proclaims. Togas
are a kind of fashion miracle—they make both genders look sexy
and smart at the same time. There are some who refuse the
traditional Roman garb, choosing instead to wrap the cloth around their
head to form a makeshift burka. These dissenters get spanked with a
traditional Greek paddle, and the crack is deafening. How did Rome ever
fall, anyway? 
Want The Stranger to do shots of heart attacks—gin with a pat of butter, microwaved for a few
seconds—at your house party? E-mail the date, place, time,
and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.