Sunday, September 26, 2004

Swing on the pole at a Scantily Clad house party

LOCATION: 18th and Kalorama TIME: Saturday night, sometime next year EQUIPMENT: Yourself, someone to pass along the invitation to you (shouldn't be too difficult since I noticed about 500 people on the Evite). OPTIONAL: Hot friend from your improv comedy workshop wearing her favorite pair of SpongeBob SquarePants underwear

As it turns out, sometimes there are nice house parties in DC. Within half an hour my friend Jaiva and I were swinging around the pole they'd installed in the living room and slipping money into each others' underwear with our teeth. Jaiva actually climbed all the way up to the ceiling and kicked the chandelier, at which point the pole (hastily installed) came unscrewed and majestically swayed down to deposit her on the ground. I also met a dominatrix from Oakland called Stacey who gave me a flogging (if you've never tried it, best massage ever!) I explained to onlookers that she was whipping me because I'd fucked her husband. "He was so good in bed! You trained him well." "You dirty slut! He's mine, all mine!" And I met a very nice ex-gymnast who likes Ashtanga yoga and did a handstand session with him while listening to the Beatles. We gave each other drunken high-fives. "Yeah! Yoga rocks!" I'm sure that Patanjali was in his grave spinning like a top.

At the end of the night they had this hokey thing where everyone voted on the most outrageous person there. Jaiva and I didn't try - we were in it for the love, not the glory, and anyway we were searching for one of my shoes. (Note to my roommate: I'm sorry, dollface! I looked everywhere - I'll buy you a new pair.) Four different people came up to ask if we'd been disqualified ("for being professionals"). "Listen dude," Jaiva kept snapping, "I'm a research scientist."

Then I went home and cleaned my kitchen.

Although I had a wonderful time at the party, I probably would have been just as enthusiastic if the theme was goofy chicken suits instead of lingerie. But it seems that the best way to convince young adults to be playful is with a sex theme. Perhaps that's because unlike our vitally important careers, world-shaking artistic ambitions, or all-important social dignity, we have no way of denying that sex is absolutely ridiculous.


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