The party really starts. I call all my friends (mom and dad) and remind them I’m an adult. Then I go la-la-la-la when they disagree.
The party becomes a toga party. And because I live by myself and don’t own a toga, I improvise by imagining I’m wearing one.
I call my girlfriend. She reminds me about the thousands of texts she hasn’t replied to, and how I should “get the message,” which I really look forward to.
I relive my wild high school days. The days when I brought my bassoon to two parties and played all night (or until someone told me to stop). Well, no one is trying to stop me now. Except my parents, who are still on the line.
The shenanigans start. I crush the beer against my head, only to remember that it was a glass bottle. Luckily, I was wearing my safety helmet.
The strobe lights come on. But only on the TV to not disrupt the neighbors.
It’s time to dance like nobody's watching. Because seriously, no one is watching me on my “BassoonBoy90'' live stream.
Patches, my lovely cat, joins the fun. But immediately remembers she has cat friends somewhere.
Streaking!? Only to the bathroom and back. Good thing I have an imaginary toga!
Time for Nachos! I make enough to sober me up from my first beer, which never is enough.
I crack open another brewski. But only after I’ve had two liters of water to flush the toxins out and waited an entire hour.