I hate smoking. And beer smells just like that skunk that Papaw hit with the station wagon that time we were coming home from the Indiana state fair.
What is Michael thinking? I mean, a party. This is so not him.
Then again, college is a time for self-exploration and finding out who you really are and what you want to do with your life.
Oh my God! What if he’s into partying now???? Partying is a very large part of the college experience. At least, according to all those movies on the Lifetime Channel in which either Kellie Martin or Tiffani-Amber Thiessen star as coeds campaigning to shut down the fraternity house at which their friend or roommate was date-raped and/or choked to death on her own vomit.
Which isn’t the kind of party Michael’s talking about. Right?
Wait. Michael’s parents wouldn’t LET him have a party like that. Even if he wanted to. Which I’m sure he doesn’t. Because Michael can’t stand fraternities, since he says he can’t help but feel suspicious of any heterosexual male who would pay to belong to a club that females are not permitted to join.
Speaking of the Drs. Moscovitz:
FTLOUIE: Michael, do your parents know about this? This party, I mean?
SKINNERBX: Of course. What do you think, I’d do this without asking them? The doormen would completely rat me out, you know.
Oh. Right. The doormen. The doormen in the Moscovitzes’ building know all and see all. Like Yoda.
And they babble about it like C3PO.
Still. The Drs. Moscovitz are okay with this? Michael having a college party in their apartment when they aren’t home…with Lilly there?
It’s just so unlike them.
Wow. I totally can’t believe this. Having a party with no parents around…that is a really big step. It’s like…grown up.
SKINNERBX: So you’ll come, right? The guys were trying to tell me there was no way you’d want to. On account of the whole princess thing.
!
FTLOUIE: The princess thing? What did they mean by that?
SKINNERBX: Just, you know. I mean, it’s not like you’re much of a party girl.
Not much of a party girl? What does that even mean? Of course I’m not a party girl. I mean, Michael is not exactly a party guy—
At least, he didn’t used to be. Before he went to college.
Oh, God. Maybe it would behoove me to indicate that I am not adverse to partying. Just the date-rape and vomit part.
FTLOUIE: I am TOO a party girl. I mean, given the right circumstances. I mean, I like to party just as much as the next girl.
I do, too. This isn’t even a lie. I’ve partied. Maybe not in recent memory. But I’m sure I’ve partied. Like at my birthday party just last year.
And okay, it ended in disaster when my best friend got caught making out with a busboy in the closet.
But technically, it was still a party. Which makes me a party girl.
And okay, maybe not a party girl like Paris Hilton is a party girl. I mean, I like Red Bull and all. Well, not really, since I drank one can from my dad’s minibar in his suite at the Plaza and it made me stay up until four in the morning dancing to the disco channel on digital cable.
But you know. Who wants to be like Paris, anyway? She can’t even keep track of her dog’s whereabouts half the time. I mean, you have to find a BALANCE with the party thing. You can’t party ALL the time. Or you might forget where you left your chihuahua. Or someone might release an embarrassing video of you, um, partying.
Limit the amount of partying—and Red Bull—and you limit the amount of embarrassing videos.
That’s all I’m saying.
SKINNERBX: That’s exactly what I said. Great! So I’ll talk to you later. Love you. ’Night!