Oh, Look At Those Little G-Units.

Ahahha. Okay, so my friend Brynlee had this huge party last night, right? I went cause I wanted to see Brynlee cause we haven't played for a while. Let's be clear. I am not, in general, a party person. I'm sort of one of those people who just in being there makes people hear that one song in their heads, you know with the tick tock noises? "One of these is not like the otheeeerrrrs." Yeah. So if that's what you're into. Anyway, I actually went. I even straightened and washed my hair for the first time in days. Maybe weeks? Eh. Don't matter.

My mom was driving me to go pick up my friend Janessa and we kept passing these little hordes of jocks walking, presumably, to the party. It just made me laugh way hard. I don't even know why. I just love the way they all walk in packs and in their baggy clothes and poser hats. So everytime we passed a group of them, I'd be all, "Oh, look at those G-Units" in my fat-girl voice. In doing so, I distracted my mommy, and we almost ran over this cat. Let's name it Harold. We were just driving along, laughing and having a good mother daughter time when HAROLD, the seriously-emotionally-disturbed-calico-kitty-of-Angel-Street, ran out and straight-up tried to commit suicide and make it look like an accident. Luckily we were in the new car, which is red and adorable, and in my mind, MINE, and it has really good brakes. So Harold is just going to have to die another day. Consider that bullet dodged!

After Janessa got in the car, we passed another little group of jocks, and so of course I said, "Oh, look at those little G-Units." And my mom was like, "What is a G-Unit anyway?" And we just started laughing. Because honestly, who even knows? I'm going to look it up, but if its dirty, I won't share the results. No worries. Anyway, I just gave some B.S. answer about how it probably means a gangster. Seriously though, I have no idea. You know what though? On second thought, I am probably sooooo much happier not knowing. I'm just not even gonna mess with that. I will actually not look that up. Sorry.

As we drove up to the party, I predicted for my mother how things would be. Everyone would come and split off into their little cliques. I'm not even psychic, despite what you're thinking. Don't feel bad, I get that a lot. People are always like, "Oh, wow, Shelby. Are you psychic?" And I have to be all, "No. Just awesome." I really feel bad about it at this point. Its just embarassing for you guys. Nessa and I got there and were walking around trying the find the party when we passed another horde of jocks. Of course, they don't speak to us. They just stand huddled by a bush and try to discreetly follow us. And when we turn around, we hear them discussing looking for ducks to harrass. Seriously, guys? Wow. So then they find one and just start chasing it and laughing and being all, "Yeah, this is awesome!" It was actually really quite sad. I wanted to go up and gently put a hand on their shoulders and just tell them kindly, "You're probably going to die alone." Alas, I didn't get the chance. They were too caught up with their phones and gangster clothes and duck hunting. Too bad.

The party was slow starting off cause the speakers were busted so someone had to go on a run for better amps or something. I don't know, I like to pretend I'm legit. The point being, we didn't have music for a while, which is sort of detrimental to a party's vitality. Then all these people starting showing up and we had no idea who they were. So we tried to distract ourselves by breaking out glowstick bracelets and wearing them. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I get so much joy out of crackling them into the glowy stage. Its probably the best thing in my life right now. Everyone started getting into, (you guessed it!) circles of little cliques. I sooooo called that one. So it was just this large group of people with dozens of huddled circles. Like, hey, why don't you come to this huge party where you could meet a lot of new interesting people and then spend it with people you already know? Awesome. It got so ridiculous that I started making circles with people that I know and saying, "Hey, lets look around awkwardly at the other circles and talk bad about them." When we would look around, all the other circles were doing the same. Only they weren't kidding.

At one point we were all standing there and this kid was all, "Sooo. Anyone know any good jokes?" I busted out the joke my cousin taught me when she was six. "How do you make a Kleenex dance? You put a little boogie in it!" You can bet the circle disbanded pretty quickly after that little gem.

Being the masochist that I am, I went around to all the people that I knew talk bad about me. And gave them huge hugs and told them how great they looked and how nice it was to see them. I seriously meant it, though. I don't want you thinking I ran around saying things I didn't mean. I am nothing if not genuine. I just know they don't like me. But hey, I have nothing against them, so why not be friendly? Ahahahh. Besides having nothing against them, it was also sort of fun to watch them squirm. Mean people don't know how to handle pleasantries. Isn't that delightful?

We got music going finally and things started to pick up. Brynlee's momma showed up with a box of ringpops. I looooooooooove ringpops. Its so unholy. If you put them before me, I can't stop. The "you're full" thing in my brain just goes to Poland or somewhere random without me. And I just keep eating and eating. So of course I grabbed one and got to it. I'm sure people were thinking, "Like, who is this girl even? Why does she keep eating those? Is she okay?" Well don't you worry about it! I was FINE. I was more than fine, I was great. Ring pops. Mmm.

The music was rap for a while. I don't like rap. All the little jock boys were in their all-boy circles trying to bounce with the music.... And I was just thinking, "Wow. I am so not a party person." I love how the G-Unit boys act like they're these huge pimps of mankind. Next time you're at a party, watch them. They don't even interact with girls. If they do, its the girl's idea. They just stand there in their all-boy circles trying to look hardcore. Oh good. Good stuff.

They changed the music to some quality tunage, and that was better. Its so crazy how some songs take you to a completely different place. I don't mean like, "Oooh! The beat of this song makes me feel like I'm in Paaaaaaa-riss." I mean if you've listened to it with someone or after something happened or somewhere significant, you're right back there as soon as that song comes on. It can be good or bad. Last night it was both, since the memories were good, they just make me a little sad sometimes.

Hahah, these kids broke out some masks and were wearing them all around trying to scare girls. Then this one song came on and kind of made me feel a little... distant... from things happening around me, so I sort of just sat back and watched everything going on around. There's the girls showcasing their bodies within an inch of their lives, dancing all awkwardly. Okay, the thing is? You do not look good doing so. You do not look good dressed that way. You look trashy. Just FYI. I'm going to rant about this. Too late. I'm going to. Do you like walking out of the house looking like you forgot to get dressed? Do you like boys so distracted by your body that they can't even hear you trying to get their number or tell them your name? Cause that's exactly what's going down. Girlfriend, I learned on the Tyra Show to only showcase one assett at a time. You choose what you wanna go for that day, and you work it. You don't expose every possible inch until there is absolutely NOTHING left to the imagination. Boys are gross. Don't encourage them, all right? Gah. Be classy. Hahahahaha you know it.

Out in the parking lot, I got offered some whiskey. It was actually super funny for a couple reasons. First of all, my friend Andrea and I have code names for stuff. And whiskey is one of the code names. So I didn't even take it literally for a second. Then I thought about it and realized, "Oh. He probably means real whiskey." I wish I had it on camera. It was so epic. Little Shelby is just meandering through the parking lot when a drunken boy leaning on the back of the car asks, "D'you want some WHISKEY?" I just stood there like a deer in the headlights, my ring pop frozen but a couple inches from my mouth. After a second, I said, "No!" in my fat girl voice. That'll teach 'em. Paige got offered some whiskey as well. After I walked away, I just sort of looked back and thought, "You look like an idiot over there, ol' Walter Whiskey. And you're going to die alone as well."

After that, you better believe I called my mommy. I was all partied out anyway. It was fun though, and I met a lot of new people. You just have to put yourself out there sometimes. "Hey. I'm Shelby. And I'm a real pyscho. Let's be friends." You know?

I guess I shouldn't be determining if people will die alone or not. I'm probably going to die alone. But its gonna be epic. Don't even worry about it. I'll be one of those crazy cat ladies. Except with a cool animal. Like a narwhal. A narwhal lady. And when I die, I'm going to have my padowan come tuck me in and randomly disintegrate from beneath the blanket seconds after I pass on. Just like Yoda does in Star Wars. Yeah dude. Yeah.