When:
Sat Nov 20

I hope I'm not projecting my own perversions, but the first thing I notice about this party flier are the boobs. I think they meant to draw mountains. The paper is Kinko's-pink, and it says a band called the Pink Mountain Tops from Vancouver, BC are supposed to play. It also says the party is at "THE TAN MANSION." Wait, there are pink boobs playing at a "tan mansion"? Is that some weird innuendo? I'm suspicious.

I finally get there and am told I missed the band. And the keg is dry. Shit.

But the kitchen is full of mustaches. Shit-a-mile. What are all these twentysomething guys doing sporting such porntastic facial hair? Forget the dry keg, I'm suddenly in a room full of baby Terry Richardsons. Then I start counting beards. "Do they know they look like '70s porn stars?" I ask a clean-shaven guy named Skippy. "I dunno," he says, "but Justin, the host, his nickname is The Midnight Lover."

Appropriately, at midnight Justin starts deejaying and turns his living room into an amazing dance party--all smiles and fun. As I snuck out, I wondered if anyone noticed me, the weird girl scribbling on a of pad of paper, secretly picturing boys almost half my age as mustachioed centerfolds of trashy magazines.

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