Party Like a Rock Star

This is throwback story from freshman year.  Since we were under 21 and sadly could not go to bars, we were regulars at house parties.  Some of our favorite house parties were the ones thrown by an MIT fraternity.  Now I don't exactly remember how we met the MIT frat boys, or how we ended up invited to all of their shindigs, but I do remember that they knew how to throw a great party!  At least twice a month my friends and I dug through each others closets for an outfit most fitting for whatever the theme of the night was, strutted our asses across the city, and partied with a bunch of smart, shy boys that were essentially terrified and intrigued at the same time.  We may have given Northeastern girls the reputation of being partiers, but what can I say, we were!

One night in specific stands out as being extra ridiculous.  The theme was one that asked for trouble from the get-go... Rock Star.  And once you put on those shades, leather, chains, and lot's of black, your inner ridiculous rock and roll goddess was out and ready to play!  Upon arriving the night wasn't much different than any other Saturday night.  Drinks were consumed, music was played, friends were made.  Same old song and dance.  As the night carried on we found ourselves in one of the bedrooms, just being silly.  The boy who lived in that room came to join us.

He believed that since it was his room, we should hook up with him.  I'm not really sure about this logic, but it was his belief.  One of my friends actually did make out with him, but one girl was apparently not enough.  So when he went for it with another friend, and she turned him down because she had a boyfriend, he called her a slut.  Again, I am not following his logic of not making out = slut, but whatever.

If you know me, I do not take people insulting my friends lightly.  So I proceeded to get into a fight with him.  It went something like this:

Me:  Don't call her a slut, you asshole!

Him:  Shut up, you blonde-hair bitch!

Me:  Tell me something I don't know.  Go un-pop your collar you f%!$ing douche!

Him:  *kicks us out of the party*

Which I guess he had the right to kick us out.  But we had our vengeance.  When gathering our belongs we may have taken a thing or two of his.  For example his big bottle of vodka and pack of condoms.  We kept the bottle for us, as a prize.  But we handed out the condoms to couples making out telling them to wrap it up.  Yep, we become the elusive and mythical condom fairies.

So remember, everyone is ridiculous, including sexually frustrated frat boys.