Red Plastic Cups

Ewe girl invited me to a party last night. One of her coworkers was having a bash. Now, Ewe Girl is 24 and I'm 31. She's like my little sister. I love her dearly. The party was scheduled to begin at 9pm, and I received a phone call from Ewe Girl at 7pm. She said that the location of the party had been moved. The little sister of the party thrower had threatened to tell the guy's parents (he still lives at home) if he had a party. At this point I lost total control of myself and laughed hysterically for about ten minutes. I laughed until my face hurt. As Ewe Girl was with the party thrower and he could hear me laughing, I didn't earn any brownie points there. He was kind of pissed. I guess having someone you've never met laugh their ass off at you and your lame ass doesn't feel good. I felt bad, but not bad enough to stop laughing.

I arrive at the new party location and quickly notice the prevalence of red plastic cups. I was instantly taken back to parties of days gone by, and reminded of Anna's last post at Anna Land. She had talked about being older, lamer and simply just past the red plastic cup time in her life. I thought I was too. And by the end of the night, I realized that even though there were some high points to the party, doing keg stands is just not sexy.

Ewe Girl had told all of her coworkers that I was crude/vulgar/funny/etc. So of course I had to live up to my reputation. I wowed the partygoers with my sparkling wit and classic good looks. Actually, they were just amazed at the filth that was pouring out of my mouth. Throughout the night the cries of "tell us another story Sam" echoed throughout the backyard. Seriously. You have to love the ego boost that you get by thoroughly amazing a bunch of drunk 23 year old boys. 'Cause they're a pretty tough crowd, let me tell you.

At one point, this drunk guy crosses the line and asks me to rub his feet. WTF?! I made it abundantly clear that I had a man at home and I was not about to go dumpster diving at this party. I was there for amusement value only. Here's how the conversation went:

Drunk Guy: Hey, rub my feet Sam. (offers foot without shoe on it)

Sam: Um. I don't rub a guy's foot unless he goes down on me first. Since that is NOT happening, you're out of luck.

Drunk Guy: (not getting it) Okay baby, let's go!

Sam: Well, then while you're down there, would you mind telling me how my boyfriend's cum tastes?

Stunned silence. Then everyone bursts out laughing at this poor drunk fool. Yeah, I rock. I stayed until I saw some poor guy doing a keg stand and then I left. I drank two Cokes on the rocks and a cup of water. All out of red plastic cups. Here's to you, Anna!