Let’s Party!

On Monday, I went to a party and when the party vibe subsided I found my back hurting, my throat sore and I hated everyone; how did I get here? The last thing I remember is how I was dancing with people I don’t even know.

While today I find the partying pointless yesterday was au contraire; I woke up feeling fine and the song flawless was going inside my head and my heart said: “let the party begin!”

First step was to find a perfect dress for the party, when you live in the 21st century leaves just won’t suffice, you got to wear something equally cool and hot, sexy and sober, decent and raw and if you want to achieve it you will have to break your legs walking in a mall like I did on the day of the party. I licked my mother’s ass and made her come with me to the market and find me a perfect dress. For an urbane human being clothes must be in the validation of your mother, the camera and of course the occasion: do not dress like a bride when you are not the bride.

After the validations are achieved, buy that dress and if you don’t have money very slyly make a puppy face and remind your mother of all the times you helped her in the kitchen now rock that dress with a perfect accessory: smile, a smile will up the ante.

Remember, we all have at least one person to whom we want to prove our worth one arch nemesis who are to be slayed by the aura of awesomeness; I had too, one girl from high school who stepped on me in the corridor, that bitch needed a lesson so what I did? I wore flats so that I can dance like crazy and walk with poise, that bitch is served.

The axiom ‘dress to impress’ is a lie you have to ‘dress to slay the world with the sword of sparkles’, nothing less.

On a side note always keep a standard of dressing as per the occasion; friend’s birthday: sexy latex dress, family function: sweat pants.

The second step was the preparation of the slaying machine: me. If you are something like me you have a habit of slacking and are always late no matter how much time you get. I am always late because that is what I do, I can make a living out of being late and thrive on it. Yesterday I shaved my legs fifteen minutes before going to the party everyone does it, I guess, but I am different because of my OCD it does not allow my bathroom to be unclean, so I whip out the Harpic and scrub the shit out of my toilet ten minutes before going to the party.

After the singing, thinking, accepting an award in the shower was over I step out to get ready. This was my department so I rocked that one, I wore the clothes I just bought and they fit me because of the rounds I took to the dressing room and they look flawless because of my mother is related to Anna Wintour  (she is not but let me believe). So when I was done I hi-fived my reflection in the mirror and did the fanciest thing every girl does I waited…for my ride, living the fancy life I know!

So I get to the party after my friend came to pick my lone ass up I said hi to the host, looked around, check for hotties and caught up with people. Then the real party begin each and every one of us took out their phone and some serious selfie game started that was so fun; look here, pose there, lie on the ground and pose, stand on the chair and pose, all kinds of poses! I saw a couple doing 69, everyone was posing. I was also clicking pictures like a boss because after all I came to this party for pictures only so that I can flood my social media and make you feel bad about your life when in reality this is what every party is all about we just click pictures. Then the promises were made to send all the pictures and every iPhone user was making faces.

The entry was made and in my head I have already won the selfie game and my arch nemesis had checked out my dress twice and she hates me even more yes!

It was time to bust out some moves; I believe dance floor need a sign board that says “don’t get too carried away” because I feel like everyone, drunk or not, gets too overboard with dancing. I guess dancing in such arrangements becomes harder for girls as boys keep touching them ‘by mistake’, like dude let me punch you ‘by mistake’, touching my elbow like you own that shit! And also, we have to take care of the dress, the heels, the bra and the arch nemesis that won’t stop trying tripping you.

After the rogue dance was over and the music stopped couples disappeared, boys tried to hit on girls, girls continued their selfie game because their eyeliner is still ‘on fleak’ and I found myself filling my stomach with food.

At this point all of us forgot about the occasion half of us didn’t even know what it was in the first place.

Five hours in I questioned about my decision of buying the skirt while answering my mother’s call on the phone; the party wasn’t over and the crazy of us went for a drive.

No matter how pointless the party was, no matter how tasteless the food was I am ready to do it all over again because I am young, reckless. A party is a way to relax and get lost only to find new people it is a way you can forget about everything, so step out and Let’s Party!

 

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