Why do I even come out to parties at all?

I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, and I certainly don’t like most of these people. Well, their metalcore bands, at least. But it’s hard to say “your music is generic” when they like my band so much.

“GRAALHLBL!!”

Oh… that’s why I come to parties. To look after my drunk friends. That and to meet women. I only ever end up doing the former, though. At least I’m rather good at one, eh?

“Let’s get you home, Dave.”

“Fuckin…loveyouman.”

And out the door he goes. Oh, shit… there’s that cute girl from earlier, right at the door… She can’t be a day over 17, isn’t that too young? Fuck it, I have to say something, she said goodbye. Something real suave…

“Bye! Pleasure meeting you! Hope to see you again…?”

Ugh. That was about as cool as an elephant’s armpit. She had a boyfriend anyway. Shut up, brain. She was cute. Darn cute.

“JAYRBLEUGH!”

Shit.

Go back to your boyfriend, cutie. I’ve got a job to do. Yeah. Very movie-traileresque. I can live with that.