Although usually I try to keep this column lighthearted and
funny, a number of events that occurred over the past weekend have pushed me to
actually be serious for a moment, because I’ve realized that there are still a
surprising amount of idiots out there who need schooling on party manners.

Picture that little illustration embedded in my column text
(I’m not that weird-looking in real life, I swear) getting furious, yelling at
people — mostly strangers but some friends, male and female, skinny and fat —
running around my own house like a crazy person and acting like an all-around
bitch, just because several of my party guests were too inconsiderate to behave
like actual human beings.

But before I start explaining proper party etiquette, I need
to give you a little bit of background information.

It all started with an idea for a grand theme party: animals
vs. robots. My roommates and I have thrown multiple theme parties before, but I
have to say that this was, by far, the most original idea we’ve had.

So, excited about this innovative theme, we made a Facebook
event explaining the dress code, which, in very simple English, stated to come
in costume as an animal and/or robot.

As anyone who has come to one of our parties knows, we don’t
expect extravagantly crafted costumes made from imported Chinese silk.

But seriously, for a theme like this, all you needed to do
was wrap some tin foil around your arms or wear some stupid cat ears on your
head, and you would have been good to go.

However, when people completely ignore directions and show
up without following the dress code, not only do they come off as incompetent
and annoying, but I’m not letting them in (unless I personally really like them
and they have an amazing excuse).

If I catch you without a costume, I’m going to ask you
leave, and no amount of begging is going to save you.

I understand that you might get angry, but ultimately it’s
your own fault. Simply put, if you can’t follow the theme, don’t go to a theme
party, bitches.

Here’s some advice for those token non-costumed flaming
heterosexual bro guys who somehow end up at every party: Screaming the word
“faggot” at the hosts just because we happen to be gay doesn’t really do
anything to help the situation.

(And honestly guys, can’t you think of something more
creative?)

Moving on: Why the hell would anyone throw trash, rocks or
garden pots in the pool? (Yes, someone actually did that.) Last time I checked,
swimming holes aren’t synonymous with your personal wastebasket.

Unless that’s changed, I don’t understand why people would
act like seventh graders and throw their empty beer cans and cigarette butts in
the water.

Another particularly heinous party foul resulted in a broken
a mirror, and I’m not talking about some dumb little bathroom looking glass. We
have floor-to-ceiling mirrored sliding closet doors in our hallway, and in a
matter of seconds, some clumsy, drunk fat-ass knocked into them and shattered
the whole pane — and then ran away like a pansy bitch.

I collected about $90 toward a repair fund, but Mr.
Anonymous Asshole should really have manned up to pay for his mistake. Who runs
around crashing into glass anyway? Obviously, only someone who needs a serious
lesson in party etiquette would rage his way into hundreds of dollars of
entirely preventable damage.

The stupidity didn’t stop there. Apparently, two
star-crossed (read: beer-goggled, because I saw both of you naked and I
definitely wasn’t impressed) lovers thought my bed was the perfect place to get
their freak on.

First of all, why would anyone think it would be acceptable
to enter one of the host’s bedrooms, let alone remove all their clothing and
get into the host’s bed? That is so beat. Did you not think I might come into
my own room at some point during the night? Show a little class and at least
move it to your car.

Finally, the last major qualm I had was the fact that people
from Board Club threw flyers all over our house advertising their events. Do
that on your own time, people. Don’t trash my house.

I’ve gone to Board Club events in the past and actually had
a lot of fun, but littering is where I need to draw the line.

I’m not even getting into the fact that someone threw up
everywhere in the bathroom except the toilet, or that some asshole thought it
would be a good idea to hide a teddy bear in the back of our oven (fire hazard
from hell). Or that someone ripped down one of the lanterns we had in our
backyard. Or that there was a clump of smelly black puree in our kitchen sink
drain. (If anyone knows what that was, please let me know. I won’t be mad, just
curious.) Come on, people. Parties happen for one night and I really did want
everyone to have fun, but I still cannot grasp the fact that some of you
completely disrespected my house.

At the end of the night, my roommates and I still have to
live there. That’s why it’s called a house party. It’s at someone’s house. In
the match between animals and robots, it seems the pigs unfortunately won.
After this, I’m not sure I ever want to have another party again. And that’s a
damn shame, because sans the destruction, they’re pretty fucking awesome.