Pretty much the best thing you can see when walking up to a party is a giant inflatable Spider-Man bouncy tent in the front yard. Then you know that shit is for real. The theme of Ben and Adrien's going-away bash is almost a dare: "There is no ruining this party." When a guy in a bunny suit jumps off the roof in an attempt to ride the giant inflatable Spider-Man, causing it to deflate, does that ruin the party? Not even close. What about when a hired male stripper is humping a girl on the floor, choking her with a belt? Nah, that just gives things some spicy flavor.
With Mad Rad rapping in the living room, a lady stripper smashing her va-jay in random dudes' faces, and no shortage of booze, it does in fact seem that there is nothing anyone can do to ruin this party. What seems likely to ruin it, however, is the cops, as this party is loud as hell and happening in a nice, expensive family neighborhood. Some people are doing their damnedest to get the neighbors angry—blasting ABBA out of their cars, yelling and dancing and slamming beers on the street corner. By 2:00 a.m. it seems inevitable that the cops are going to show up, so I decide to ditch out before they have a chance to kill my buzz. I return home elated, only to find my roommate's girlfriend has barfed all over the bathroom floor. Congratulations, Anna. You ruined my party.
Want to prove to The Stranger that a guy in a bunny suit can never be trusted? (Confidential to this week's partyers: The stripper was not the girl from the Beacon Plumbing ads. I asked.) E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to firstname.lastname@example.org.