Jello Biafra busted up my face.

But that’s not even the point of the story. The point of the story is that I just had the most spectacular birthday party imaginable.

At first, my roommate Lloyd and I were a bit worried. We had prepared a mouth-watering banquet for the event – chicken and snow peas on skewers, sweet potatoes with a soy ginger sauce, asparagus with a lemon-tarragon dipping sauce, cocktail shrimp and, of course, pigs in a blanket. We had set up the ultimate feast for kings. But, a cocktail party without cocktails….?

Then Sean showed up with the box o’ booze.



Though Ian and I have clearly turned into mushy drunk blurs, that’s Lloyd in the blue blazer, holding down the fort in the background.



Stackhouse thought that he could outdo the “oh no, I wasn’t ready for a picture” ugly-face by beating the flash to the punch.



Further proof that he was doing this on purpose.



Mike and Mike playing bartenders. 2 legit 2 quit.



Everybody was having such a rambunctiously good time that the order of the evening was only the most fool-hearted drunken honesty.
Kristin (with the blonde hair): Hey Erin, see that girl over there?
Erin: Uh, yeah?
Kristin: That’s my girlfriend. I’ve been dating her for two years. She’s fucken beautiful…you know something, Erin? (voice rising)…I’M NOT EVEN A LESBIAN!



This is Kate. She’s trying to slyly snag a candle from the coffee table so that a jillion drunks could scream the happy birthday song at nearly one in the morning. Surprisingly, the noise complaint didn’t arrive sooner…



Liz and I, looking like guppies.
I don’t remember if this was before, after (or during) the moment when Lloyd dropped the scorpion into the betta fish bowl. Earlier the scorpion rose from the depths of a bottle of vodka. I have never in all my years seen a betta come to life like that.





Courtney. Or, ‘figure study with white Russian.’



We danced. Milt slept. When the police showed up later to ask us ever-so-sweetly to quiet down, they forced me to shake Milt awake. “I don’t know, he’s a pretty heavy sleeper…” and move him from one chair to the next. Upon waking, he promptly responded to those four refrigerators mulling about in my living room, “Shut up. I’m movin’. I’m movin’.” I thought it was a fantastic idea to whip out my Smith I.D. when they demanded my license so when they asked me, “Oh, Smith. Are you faculty or staff?,” I hardly choked down the impulse to blurt out ‘Faculty!’



These are just a few snippets - it eventually became too crazy to even capture on film. As a birthday present, the next night we went to see Jello Biafra and the Melvins. I couldn’t stand watching the whole show from behind the back of a grimy six-foot-six sloth, so Alissa and I pushed our ways up to the front. The show was mind-boggling until Jello Biafra decided to stage dive from a standing position, just inches away from my nose. After his massive knee slammed into my face, the Melvins’ famous shaggy roadie pulled me out and brought me back stage. From there, I got to watch the rest of the show - dizzied from excruciating pain and sheer excitement - from the best seat in the house. So I guess I’ve escaped my birthday with just one visit from the cops and a swollen face. Not bad, eh?