Jame Temple had a birthday party. That was when I realized that parties were not about people, music, fun, or finding someone to make out with. Parties were about one thing: CUPS.
James was a great DJ. He played a bunch of old school hip hop that reminded me of being an awkward little boy that couldn't breakdance when breakdancing was the most important thing one could do.
I never get tired of my own adolescent humor.
I indoctrinated people into my own gang of rough–and–tumble toughnecks. You'll know my gang members when you see them, as their knuckles bear the sign of the highest level of toughness: NICE HUGS.
Eventually I drank enough to get sorta drunk. Not super drunk, just sorta. But, that's enough for me. (Notice that the party is still all about CUPS.)
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