Rose's party was supposed to make people dress up like they were at a golf country club. It made me dress up like a jerk. But that was good. Blue Old Skool Vans, orange Arnold Palmer golf pants hoisted aloft by a General Motors seatbelt belt. Into which was tucked my undershirt and my yellow short-sleeved dress shirt with "fuck" silk-screened in pink on the pocket. Resting on my belly and tied around my neck was a purple tie with golden cobs of corn.

I showed up at the party real early and there were only about eight people there. Mandy and Squash, who clapped when they saw me, were going to see the Impaled / Weedeater / Hammers of Misfortune / etc... at the CW and they idea of walking around that metal show dressed the way I was immediately attracted me. I wanted to see Impaled and Mandy and Squash said that Hammers of Misfortune were an amazing Wagnerian metal extravaganza. Had to go. I left the party and promised to come back real soon. I figured I'd get sick of the place pretty quick but it was enthralling. Mesmerizing. And gosh darn it, sweet.

I shot pool with Cecil and shot video of Hammers of Misfortune and rocked hard. My little vidcam drew ooo's and ahh's from all the heshers. I ended up staying to the end. I think Squash was trying to hook up or something and Mandy and I just lingered. We got back to the party and it was over. I sat on the porch wrapped in a blanket and talked to Rose. Walked home as the sun rose.