Come, it's a party. The middle of summer is a time to have some fun until one has had enough. It is also too early to say goodbye.

Ian was going to law school and planned a going away party for a specific Saturday.

Josh was planning a party to celebrate for celebration's sake on the same specific Saturday. Upon realizing the scheduling conflict it was determined that Ian's laid-back affair would easily be able to be absorbed into the very swigga Joshypalooza celebration.

Joshypalooza was a very enjoyable time. Let me describe to the reader that which they would want to know about the party by stopping the stalling process. Yes, the police were called over this party. Fortunately, no arrests or even warnings were handed out.

A basketball hoop was slightly destroyed. Some drunk named Kevin who hit on every girl at the party, regardless of whether or not she was already in a relationship, and was rejected by every girl at the party. Kevin thought he would display his raw animal sexuality by nearly ruining the host's basketball hoop while only a few other men were watching.

Speaking of women there were a lot of them at Joshypalooza. Despite this truth, some kid dressed all in yellow like a goddamn fool said it was a "sausage party". He, I do not remember his name, was obviously blind as the party was half-and-half.

I also heard what has to be the worst version of Alice in Chains' "Rooster" I will probably hear in my life. The main reason is because a certain somebody with delusions of grandeur, we'll call him "Jake", thinks he has talent and will make a lot of money playing acoustic guitar. He doesn't have talent on acoustic guitar. So he is over-playing and overdoing the singing "WHO SNUFFED THE ROOSTER? YEEAAAHHHH !" and a man of actual worth both musically and as a person, Ian, decides to solo with his mandolin on top of it. Ian is classically trained, so such musical interplay is normally appropriate from his background. Alice in Chains, though, worked within the grunge phase of rock n' roll (actually a hair metal band wearing flannel) where improvisation kills the mood. More importantly, Jake is such a poor performer that not even a mandolin solo could have covered up his poor guitarwork. Why, if it were not for his cousin he would be disregarded completely.

The good things would have been a whole lot of alcohol for those who drank, complete with an Ohio Lottery cardboard cutout of Leslie Nielsen converted into a beer schlong bong as drinkers were expected to drink cold beer from the tube cut in a strategic area of Leslie's crotch. I forget if anyone drank from it or not.

There was plenty of good conversation with old friends, even those who came unexpectedly. Donor Dale was supposed to not show up at all at the party, but he rode in to a glourious "hello" before walking inside the host's house.

There was spirited talk of revolution; "A white picket fence and 2.7 kids might be your dream, but it isn't mine, buddy."

There were nametags which made knowing everyone sort of easier. I declined a name tag to get the shirt that is being discussed now, which was handy because even though I knew a lot of people, there were more that I did not know.

The shirt was presented to me long after the celebration due to non-forecasting of my desire and also because all the transfer paper had been used in the making of the shirts of those who had them to wear at Joshypalooza . I had lost the ability to drive the car I owned through mechanical failure and was unable to get the shirt directly from Josh, but it was truly because of him that this whole thing happened so he is the true donor.