I know that I'm picky.  I don't like the outdoors, I don't like to be hot, I don't like to be cold, and I want good food at every meal.  Despite this, I prefer to think I'm not actually snobby, I just prefer not to waste my short time here doing banal, unforgettable things.  This does not mean that I don't eventually draw a line when it comes to my surroundings.  I have attended my share of crazy parties, but I find that it is wholly unnecessary for a "crazy" party to have a "trashy" element, and that is what  I was forced to endure Saturday night.

First of all this party was being held in a garage.  It goes (I thought) without saying, that if you own a home, it is generally preferable to hold a party inside said home rather than in the garage.  Especially when it's raining.  I soon found out, however, that the garage was necessary because the house itself smelled like various waste products of cats and dogs mixed with a healthy dose of wet fur.  At least, I hope that's all that was causing the smell.  Not breathing through my nose and wishing for a gas mask, I quickly scrambled back to the garage, where I was in for a long bout of standing up because I was afraid I might contract a disease if I sat on anything. The host of this party kept screaming that if anyone was drinking out of his keg, they better pay $3.  (Note to self: Do not throw garage party and then charge attendees for privilige of drinking Natty Lite.)  Specifically, he announced that he saw a lot of people drinking out of his blue plastic cups that had not paid. I was drinking out of one of his cups, but being picky, I don't drink beer and had brought my own refreshment.  He generously pointed at me during the rant about the cups and announced he was aware that I'd brought my own drink so I didn't have to pay for the cup.  Really, his kindness brought tears to my eyes. 

There was some odd game going on wherein 10 cups with beer in them were set up in a bowling ball formation on each end of a ping pong table.  Players took turn throwing a ping pong ball at the other person's cups, and if it landed in one, the opponent had to chug the beer.  Of course, if they missed, the ball went rolling along the garage floor.  At this point they would make a perfunctory gesture of rinsing the ball off in a cup of water (which was never emptied).  I don't really have to go into why that was pointless.  Our esteemed host, angry at losing this game, began screaming and pounding on the ping pong table.

At this point I turned to Perry and informed him that he was going to be paying for this for a long, long time.  I'm sorry, but when a majority of the females in one location weigh over 200 pounds and one of them is wearing a bedspread (she might have been wearing pants, but I would have no way of knowing, seeing as how the entire time I was there she was clothed in a bedspread sarong) it's just not a place that I have a great desire to be.  Call me snobby, I don't care.   Perry was a bit annoyed that I wouldn't just "try to have fun," at which point I informed him that if he didn't know me well enough yet to know that this was not a place where I would EVER have fun, we needed to have a serious discussion about our relationship.  Having finally convinced him that he could choose between me or the party, he retrieved my belongings from inside the house (I wasn't about to set foot back in there) and took me home.  My nice clean, Green Tea and Mandarin smelling, wet fur free, disease infested garage-less, home.  I may never set foot outside here ever again.  It's not safe out there.