I went to a Hallowe'en party on Friday night. Most of my classmates took Friday off to study, but I couldn't let that distract me from my socializing priorities. There were quite a few people sitting around at the house, but the most culture-shocking thing to me was that there were four party attendants all under the age of three. I said to Jay, the father of the most recent young addition to the gang of infants: "I guess I'm getting to the age that my friends are starting to bring their babies to parties." He replied, "Be happy you're not of the age that you're bringing YOUR babies to parties." Touché.
Jay, Jago, and I sat in the corner, talking about geeky things, babies, and the like, so we had a pretty good view of the various goings-on at the party, most of which involved the two mobile babies. Kay was mostly interested in stealing suckers and munching them down before her mom noticed, and making sure everyone who was drinking a beer had a bottlecap. Jay was mostly interested in making sure the rest of the partygoers noticed that she was ever-so-cute, and spent a lot of the party running around with a cheezie in each hand. Every once in a while, she'd run up to the bowl, take a bite out of one of her two snacks, put the remainder of it down on the table, grab another one out of the bowl, and run away. We were consistently amused.
On Saturday I went to another party. I won't go into too many details, but the highlight of the night would have to be when a girl dressed up as Death from The Sandman and a girl in a tight, short red dress and red horns asked me if I would pay money to watch them have a swordfight with sexual aids in a pool of chocolate pudding.
I said yes. It seemed the least controversial thing to do.