Open Letter to Party in My Pants

Dear Party in My Pants,

I would be remiss if I didn't take the time to thank you, pants, for being such a gracious host the other night to the swelling throng of people who showed up to my theme party appropriately dubbed, 'In-Control Party: the Summer Edition.'

It was a festival of easy riding, non-debauchery, completely void of excitement, noise or disturbances typically associated with its counterpart parties: 'Outta Control.'

Perhaps it was the DJ? The tranquil sound of ocean waves crashing shorelines with the clamor of humpback whale samples crooning like some mysterious Enya remix certainly got the party crunk. I mean there was little traffic coming through and not much going on, which makes perfect sense for an 'In Control' party.

But then word got out that my party would be holding an impromptu Yoga class and the tables turned. Maybe it was the intense concentration of soy products, hemp, gluten free bread and organic free range thought that got it poppin', because people piled in. Breaking ice was effortless, since it was hot as balls.

Attendees particularly enjoyed the boom-boom room that was completely vacant, dark and left to brainstorm, meditate and pontificate about transcendental things that most people at parties tend to do. Oh - snap, party-goers were so bent out of shape from the warm-up poetry jam session and sleeping dog poses that they felt compelled to get acquainted with their pillows periodically through the night. That's crazy! It was insane, which loosely translates to mean it was completely serene and unruffled by the winds of chaos due to the pure lack of energy and donkey kicking fun.

It could be said that it was getting out of hand (out of control) once it became common knowledge that my pants were featuring five-pockets of fun in the form of lent and old receipts. Hell yes. But we were no longer adhering to my 'In Control' theme, sadly.

Once again, pants, thanks for being so tight around the buttocks, because that made it not only a well-defined party, but an exclusive one that had me turning people away because there was no room.

People were trying to even sneak in because they wanted to take part in mundane activities like stretching, breathing and talking at a library volume. But pants, you were always a step ahead and were tight rolled at the hems to prevent any rogue party-crashers from nearby pants parties from entering.

If it weren't for you pants, I'd be without pants and shit out of luck when it comes to throwing awesome epic parties. Forget basements, music venues, hotels or pools ... throwing parties in your pants is where it's at!

Sincerely,

-- Acid Washed Mayhem

p.s. I'm never taking you off and my cool faded Smarty Pants might get jealous. But those pants don't throw good parties.