The best toilets are the two Porta-Potties over by the First-Aid tent. They're separate from all the other facilities and nobody goes over there unless they're hurt. You can tell they're never used because the urinal cakes are still completely whole and it smells cleaner, like a veterinary clinic or something. There's also a functioning sink you can fiddle with. Little touches like that make all the difference. I can't recommend these toilets enough.
I'd camp in here if they'd let me.
Sometimes the EMTs are up for a conversation through the wall if they're not busy pulling glass out of someone's foot. It's weird, though -- they almost never want to talk about music that's so good, it pushes through you like fiber, and honestly, that's really all I want to talk about most days. That's why I'm only giving them four stars.
That Friend of a Friend's House Party
Review By: Karen and That Guy She's Been Kind of Seeing
Do not go to this party after 11:30, you will regret it. There is no chance you will ever catch up with everyone else's level of intoxication, and as a result, you will be annoyed the entire time. We arrived at midnight and there was clearly supposed to be some kind of overly ambitious theme to this party but we never found out what it was. All the half-assed decorations had since fallen into a disintegrating beer-soaked mess on the floor. From the partial costumes people still hadn't abandoned for comfort, the premise seemed to have been either pirates or Reconstruction-era South. No one could give us a straight answer, not even the guy we're pretty sure lives there (Carl? Craig? Conner?), and we couldn't ask the girl with the eye patch because it looked like it might be genuine.
When we tried to get a drink, we discovered that all the hard alcohol was completely gone, or was never present to begin with. A boy who couldn't have been older than 17 ushered us into a bedroom and revealed a bottle of Sour Apple Pucker in his backpack like he was some kind of goddamn hero. He offered us shots out of an empty Ritalin container, but we declined.
Like drinking the saliva from someone else's mouth after they finish an apple Jolly Rancher.
While you may find a few people hanging out in the kitchen or feeling each other up in the stairway, the thick of the party, we found, was around the keg in the basement behind a wall of body odor. There were so many people packed into one room that the air was blurry with sweat.
"Is it a different theme down here? Seriously, what the hell is everyone supposed to be?"
During one precarious moment, we were shuffled into a circle where soaking-wet, full-grown adults put their arms around us and insisted we sing along with their intramural flag football team cheer. We didn't know it. We left after seven minutes.
Ultimately, if you enjoy stale keg beer, furniture pulled from street corners, a terrified cat and wobbly shirtless guys trying to convince girls to kiss each other, then you're going to love this party. However, if you already went to college and wordlessly decided years ago that you would never put up with this kind of bullshit again, then That Friend of a Friend's House Party probably isn't for you. Instead, please see the Yelp review for staying home and watching Heat on Netflix.
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For more from Soren, check out A Letter to Parents About the Fake 'Teen Crazes' on the News and The 5 Dumbest Supernatural Questions Ever Googled (Answered).