Last Saturday I went to a party with Trouble (she of the newly-minted Jolly Rogers groupy syndrome). Some friends of hers have a house in one of the tiny little towns out in the middle of nowhere. They don't live in it, they just turn it into a haunted house every Halloween. Yes, they keep a house just so they can make use it once a year as a Halloween Party Venue. It really does deserve the capitalization. 

Needless to say, they go all out. The entire downstairs as well as the yard, becomes a massive maze filled with dismembered body parts, moving statues, strobe lights, blood splatters, glow-in-the-dark randomness, eerie dummies, and scenes of horror, laid over with a pulsing soundtrack of screams, howls, and (when the dj gets drunk) the electric slide. 

The family who throws the party are damned good at what they do. During summer they throw huge camp-out parties in the local state parks that turn into weekend long bachanals- I went to one of them this summer actually, and I believe it was the one where at 4 am, Trouble and I decided to text every guy in our phones the message "wanna have sex?" just to see what would happen. You'd be amazed at the responses. 

Anyway, now you know the sort of party this is. Add in that it's a costume party, and the booze was free. The summertime versions are byob, but for the "family-only" haunted house weekend (it's open to the public the next few weekends, though there's less partying to it) the booze is provided. Lots and lots of booze. Captain Morgan, coconut rum, vodka, tequila, schnaps, jell-o shots, rum, rum, rum, vodka, more vodka, whiskey, gin, scotch. You name it, it was there. Then there was beer, too, of course. Imagine a six-foot shelf filled with alcohol, and more alcohol underneath it awaiting the time when there's enough empty space to bring it out of storage. To the right you see what looks like a small dumpster brimming with ice and beer cans, with a sparse sprinkling of sodas, and a massive tub of jell-shots. And as long as you can stand up and/or swallow liquids, you're good to go. 

Trouble and I walked in, two of too-few single girls in attendance. She was curvy and busty in a black 'gothic vampire slayer' robe, a hood half-obscuring her deceptively innocent grin, sexy-as-hell black boots on her feet. I was in black, my eyes smoked out in pitch black liner, lips stained red, fangs visible when I smiled, in fitted black pants, a strapless black satin bustier top with an attatched collar. We made an impression. And we didn't even show any cleavage. 

We were greeted with hugs from Captain Hook and his pirate wench, made our way to the bar and started the night off with a proper salute to Captain Morgan. It wasn't long before we found ourselves seeking a cooler room (Sat night was like 70 and there were a ton of people crowded into the two main rooms), which we found in the entry room. Surrounded by branches and twigs, watched the a cauldron-stirring statue of a displeased witch. Then came the duo I'll refer to as Skinny Emo Cowboy and Frighteningly Normal Guy. They decided we needed to be chatted up. 

Now, this is a small area. Skinny Emo Cowboy has a history with our friend Serena (aka S sometimes), and two years ago at the same Halloween party he spent the night romancing a very drunken Trouble, although her friend kindly intervened to stop her doing something she would have been too drunk to understand. Unfortunately for Skinny Emo Cowboy, he's married. To a very scary girl. Who was present at that party two years ago, as well as this party. She has not forgotten that her hubby spent the night chatting with that damned blonde girl, and now here he is doing it again. 

Wife began circling the house continuously as she attempted to keep an eye on her husband. Meanwhile, Skinny Emo Cowboy failed to notice this at all. The conversation among the four of us was pleasant, polite, and surprisingly nonflirty. Until Trouble decided to mention Serena. 

Skinny Emo Cowboy was already drunker than we realized. And the mention of Serena tripped his emo trigger. Soon he was randomly materializing to ask us about Serena. How was Serena? Why did she think he would react badly to hearing her name? Was Serena doing good? How was Serena? Did we know he messed up a really good thing? 

He would do most of this accosting, however, to Trouble. I swear, I don't know how many times he cornered her in a hallway or a dim corner and either she had to flag someone down or I had to run back and rescue her. Meanwhile, his wife continued circling. 

While all this was going on, of course, we were getting toasted. Everyone was getting toasted. Including a guest who happens to be an auctioneer, and a girl who decided we should have an auction. She wanted to be auctioned off. 

Somehow this ended with her and her friend being "sold", someone grabbing my wrist, yanking me to center stage, and I found myself being sold. And somehow my head/mouth filter had disappeared along with my sense of propriety and I was demanding to know why they were all "such cheap bastards." 

Lucky for me, the two previous 'packages' joined me in this consensus. 

I know know that in an impromptu auction wherein very inebriated partygoers are the ones buying, I can reach a value of $1500 in less than eight minutes. Sadly, I was never sold because our auctioneer passed out. I guess I'll have to have my full value evaluated next halloween. 

Much later in the evening, after snacks, jell-o shots with m&m chasers, dancing, another round of jell-o shots, some othe shots, and more rums with droplets of coke barely detectable, Trouble and I were feeling kinda... trashed. 

We stepped into the back room, which is made over into a long hall of horrific surgeries and blood-spattered walls, to catch our breath and sit down. Trouble claimed the large faux-barb wire wrapped chair and I took the arm of it. We were having some sort of conversation when Skinny Emo Cowboy found us again. He took a position on the floor on the other side of Trouble's chair. 

Then another guy appeared, this one intent on picking me up and placing me on the nearest operating table. I know not why. But it didn't matter since my drink wound up all over him. He put me down then. Thank god. 

yet another pair of guys appeared. One of them kinda cute. Sort of. Though I was trashed and the lighting was dim, so it could have been the fact that he ended up positioned so as to keep Operating Table Guy away. By this time I was mentally referring to Trouble's chair as her throne, with myself playing Vampire Princess.

Somehow we ended up insisting that she and I were taken by each other and therefore not single, thanks. In Trouble's words we were in a "mahogany relationship."  Our relationship is expensive and pretty. 

Possibly Cute Guy spent a good deal of time talking/flirting with me, which I didn't mind since Trouble had a couple of admirers, and then there was Operating Table Guy and Skinny Emo Cowboy and a few others, so I wasn't bored. Anyone who has dealt with drunk!me knows that bored is not a good thing. But the group of them was still not interesting enough, so I amused myself by poking into the corners of the room and making fun discoveries like the fact a dummy was behind a hidden door and that the shelves full of jars all had fake fingers and noses and toes and eyeballs in them. Which Trouble and I decided to play catch with.

We finally sauntered out of the impromtu throne room, back to the party only to find everyone getting ready to head home. This might have had something to do with half the male guests being in the back with us. Now, Skinny Emo Cowboy had been trying and trying to make passes at Trouble all night, but as we were walking out of the back room, he grabbed my butt. Seriously. Twice. And got elbowed for it. 

Then Possibly Cute Guy asked Trouble for her number. 

Operating Table Guy wanted to take us all to Another Party. 

Skinny Emo Cowboy's wife materialized glaring at him in murderous rage. 

Possibly Cute Guy's Friend sulked because Trouble and I hadn't flirted with him enough .

Random Other Guy kept talking to me about... something. 

Our Ride, Trouble's awesome guy-friend, materialized to drag us home. 

He laughed the entire way home over the looks on the other guys' faces as we both grabbed his arm and headed for his car. 

We got back to my house at about 4. Trouble stayed until 6 to make sure she was sober enough to drive the five blocks home. I went to bed in a happy, contented haze of alcohol and laughter.

Sometimes, my life is just awesome. 

Trouble's friends called the next day to tell us we had probably kicked off at least five divorces that night. And also, we were coming to the next party, right? We have realized we have a secret wondertwin power when we party together.

Possibly Cute Guy called Trouble the next day to ask about me, I suppose to get his nerve up about calling me. Like a good friend she didn't give him my number, but pointed out that we'll all be seeing each other again at her housewarming party in a couple weeks. 

I'm taking absinthe.