"I thought Kelly O did those."
He's sipping Sofia Coppola champagne in a pink can from a pink straw, and he isn't the first one who's disappointed that The Stranger didn't dispatch one of its celebrity staffers to this birthday barbecue. His friend asks if he can be Drunk of the Week and makes a drunk face in preparation for his picture.
I look for the keg.
It's bright and hot, and people are sprawled on blankets across the backyard in high-waisted shorts and large hats. The birthday girl is holding court among them, wearing hot pink sunglasses and a giant clump of blue flowers behind her ear. She's a Butt. By that, I mean she is one of the two Butts, and by that, I mean she is of the band Butts, and they are about to play. They drum and they shout in a riot-grrrl sort of way, and the sunburned, day-drunk crowd goes wild during their closer. "ALCOHOL," sings Butts (sing Butts?). "IT'S FUCKIN' AWESOME." Everybody cheers. Nearby, the most badass toddler I've ever seen is wearing giant earphones and shaking her fist to the beat in her tattooed rocker mom's arms.
Outside, the Sofia Coppola guy is having an earnest conversation about the future of the ice-cream-truck industry, which is also his industry, and a lively game of ping-pong is happening in the garage. The host tells me he's probably the best player here. He gets in a lot of practice at work, where they keep a ping-pong table. I ask him where he works.
"The Seattle Times," he says.
Do you want to talk to The Stranger about the future of ice cream trucks at your house party? E-mail the date, place, and party details to partycrasher@ thestranger.com.