tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50530638747405971.post-706008244130579122008-03-13T19:56:00.010-06:002008-03-13T20:59:58.062-06:00<span style="font-family:arial;">I wanted to make this the best party ever, and when I looked out the window this</span><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nbeThC_tI/AAAAAAAAAJw/yuz5lyiAeFs/s1600-h/Peeping_Tom.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177410560320536274" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nbeThC_tI/AAAAAAAAAJw/yuz5lyiAeFs/s200/Peeping_Tom.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;"> morning I knew that the mansion's backyard was way too big for just us contestants, the help, assorted hangers-on, and the lovely Sylar himself. No, to make this party truly epic, we needed a sea of bodies we wouldn't mind seeing inebriated and brainless. I decided to pad out the guest list by inviting other reality show contestants.</span> <div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">I first landed next to a large, black RV and approached the girl standing outside. "NEXT!" she shouted.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">"No, no. I'm not on this show; I want to win a date with Sylar. I'm just here to invite all of you to a party. I can guarantee free booze, and if you ask nicely maybe Sylar will let you borrow a few dresses." I gave her the address to the party and flew off.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">Then I landed in the astroturf courtyard of the <em>Big Brother</em> house and walked inside. "Party at the <em>Sylar's Bachelor</em> mansion!" I called out. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">"Dude," one of the contestants said, "how did you get here? Besides, don't you know that we lose if we leave the house?"</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">"Whatever," I said, "just come to the party. No one watches your show anyway."</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">I flew off to the<em> Real World</em> house and almost got my nose broke when I stepped into the middle of one of those fights that always seems to happen there. I think they were relieved to see me, because I gave them another excuse to get hammered and make out with each other. Then I visited the <em>America's Next Top Model</em> contestants, and they agreed to skip out on Tyra Banks's ego tripping to come to the party.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;">I was about to head back to the mansion to help set up for the party when I landed downtown for a refre</span><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nblzhC_uI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/gDkXS8h_C_M/s1600-h/17_beautyandthegeek_lgl.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177410689169555170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nblzhC_uI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/gDkXS8h_C_M/s200/17_beautyandthegeek_lgl.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">shing Slusho. "Excuse me," a voice behind me said, "I'm GMing a superhero-themed GURPS RPG and I was wondering if you would help consult me on it." I turned around. It was that geek girl from <em>Beauty and the Geek</em>. </span></div><br /><p><span style="font-family:arial;">"Uh, yeah, sure." I said. I was never any good at tabletop RPGs. When playing <em>Call of Cthulhu</em> my character would always get killed because I would try and hug the shoggoths. What can I say? I love aliens. "Anyway, we're having a party at the <em>Sylar's Bachelor</em> mansion and you can invite all your beauty and geek friends."</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">"Squee!" she said.</span></p><p><span style="font-family:arial;">Satisfied that we had enough guests for the party, I picked up a few items that would make this party rock. First I stole a trampoline from someone's backyard, because trampolines are the second-best </span><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nb5DhC_wI/AAAAAAAAAKI/bKQeNNhCj38/s1600-h/foamparty_wideweb__430x298.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177411019882036994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nb5DhC_wI/AAAAAAAAAKI/bKQeNNhCj38/s200/foamparty_wideweb__430x298.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">places for hot, drunk girls (with hot tubs being the </span><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nljjhC_0I/AAAAAAAAAKo/5Zc0MkPr7PQ/s1600-h/250px-HLR-FOAM-PARTY-02.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177421645631127362" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nljjhC_0I/AAAAAAAAAKo/5Zc0MkPr7PQ/s200/250px-HLR-FOAM-PARTY-02.jpg" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">best, of course). Then I flew to Ibiza, where the club scene is the most raging in the world, and stole one of those foam cannons, because dancing in foam is also very sexy. Lastly, I called upon my beer-dispensing robot friend, PBR2-D2, to help serve beverages. We were finally ready to party.<br /></span></p><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177411268990140178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9ncHjhC_xI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/hCYHmXTCPgI/s200/beer-robot.jpg" border="0" />Uh...It's all kinda blurry after that. I mean, I remember talking to Mr. Bennet, and I remember one of the Real World contestants trying to steal Cyclops's goggles then falling drunkenly on the edge of the trampoline and chipping his tooth. And I <em>definitely</em> remember drinking wine coolers in the hot tub with Sylar and drunkenly flirting with Adam, but after a few drinks things just started getting weird. It was like the foam cannon was spewing the shoggoths from <em>Call of Cthulhu </em>and I was transported to some weird dimension of sight and sound. Or something. Man, I'm thirsty. My head hurts, too.</span><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nc6DhC_yI/AAAAAAAAAKY/1mTq8HGQ34s/s1600-h/Traveler%2527s_companion.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177412136573533986" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nc6DhC_yI/AAAAAAAAAKY/1mTq8HGQ34s/s200/Traveler%2527s_companion.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nk3zhC_zI/AAAAAAAAAKg/brmQF_HXwAU/s1600-h/monster_rug.jpg"><span style="font-family:arial;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177420894011850546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_V3iYnm7yizg/R9nk3zhC_zI/AAAAAAAAAKg/brmQF_HXwAU/s200/monster_rug.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;">Anyway, I woke up this morning in a pool of vomit, on a bearskin rug, in my swimsuit, along with the beauty guy, the geek girl, Traveler, and some blonde that I don't think was on the guest list. Can anyone try explaining to me what just happened?</span><span style="font-family:arial;"><em><br /></em><br /></span><div><div><div><span style="font-family:arial;"></span> </div></div></div></div>Westhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05183103128403640972noreply@blogger.com