On Saturday, I went to see a friend's band play with some girls from work. The description of the venue was quite intriguing - the party had been entitled "Make-Out Party #7" and it was going be held at what appeared to be some dive called The Diver City House. Now this so-called venue was maybe eight blocks from where I live, and I had never seen anything remotely resembling a lounge or a bar in my area. This should have been a sign.
After a makeshift dinner, we all piled into EP's car and headed down the road, looking for this House. While driving in circles looking for our place, we kept passing by some people on a porch that were clearly having some sort of house party, but as we were headed to a club of sorts, this was not where we were going. Or so we thought. We only discovered that this was in fact our stop when EP recognized our friend the drummer's car parked outside.
We had come prepared with mixed CD's, as the instructions had informed us that admission was $6, but would be reduced to $4 with said CD. This was another reason we were sure it wasn't our party...who would charge admission to their own house? But then these people had also already named their house, so we really shouldn't have been surprised. The mixed CD (or tape, but who actually has tapes these days?) would be exchanged at a swap to take place after one of the sets, which we eventually forgot about and missed, but it worked out in the end as C and EP wanted to keep their own CD's anyway.
But back to the venue: this freakin' huge house had a full basement lined with silver insulation and a band area set up in the corner. They were also serving cupcakes in the kitchen, and there were generally people lounging around all over the place, some playing guitars or other instruments. So we chilled on a futon next to the treadmill and watched our friend's band (review: excellent musicianship and songs, bad lead singer). They even had party t-shirts printed up that some of the bands were wearing. I know all of you are curious, but no actual making out took place, at least none that involved the people I came with.
I realize this story is not so much dramatic or perhaps even all that interesting. It was just so surreal that I wanted to document it.
In other news, a girl I went to college with (we graduated in 2002) was only just exposed to beer pong this weekend. I am amazed by this. Although the rest of the story sounds pretty horrible (and makes the party I attended look downright pretentious), I can't believe she was first exposed to the game three years post-graduation.