Calling all hollaback girls and sk8er bois who want to bring the sexy back. You’re invited to my early-two-thousands-themed party! It’s going to be bootylicious.
“Legally Blonde” will be playing on a loop; an iPod shuffle will be blasting the Strokes; and there will be zero discussion about how none of us have a mortgage yet, even though we all know we probably should, because property is a sound investment, especially at our age.
So set your AOL Instant Messenger status to “Away” and come get ur freak on. Let’s all dance like we’re still covered by our parents’ health-insurance plans!
And there goes my shirt up over my head!
That’s right, it’s going to get hot in herre. And I’m not talking about the anthropogenic climate change we weren’t as cognizant of in the early two-thousands, even though scientists had been warning us for decades. I’m talking about body heat generated by us dancing to Nelly, ha ha. (Bonus points if you rock the Band-Aid!)
Of course, I do understand that not all guests will be able to shake it like a Polaroid picture. So, for anyone bringing along their little ones, there’s a quiet room at the back of the apartment with toys to keep them occupied and freshly made beds if they get a lil sleepy. 🙂
YOU’VE JUST BEEN PUNK’D!
No babies allowed because, as of around mid-2017, I feel a strong urge to weep whenever I see one of my friends’ babies. My therapist says it’s a normal feeling to be having at my age and I shouldn’t be hard on myself. And, luckily, I’m not hard on myself, because I know deep down that it’s the baby’s fault. Also, it’s an early-two-thousands party, and none of us had babies back then!!!
Remember using LimeWire, ha ha?
Did I mention we’ve got punch that may or may not have been spiked? (Shaggy voice: It wasn’t me!) But, unlike at my last party, I’ll make sure it’s not so strong that people start to ugly-cry and scream, “I should have studied law when I had the chance!”
How good were the Dandy Warhols?!
I think this rager will be so epic that by the end of the night we’ll be just like Blink 182, asking, “What’s my age again?” (I myself remain firmly in my twenties until July 9th, at 6:32 A.M. E.D.T.)
Snacks and drinks provided, but B.Y.O. Von Dutch hat and ability to repress small talk about how you’re thinking of going freelance but not sure whether you have a strong enough client base. And plus-ones allowed, as long as they don’t tell me it’s worth moving to the suburbs because you really get so much more for your money out there.
C u soon!!! (Ha ha, remember when we all used to text like that and didn’t have mindfulness apps on our phones?)