Instructions to Commence The Party

1. Before setting off for the dance club, relax in your well-furnished apartment complete with barker lounger and erotically placed ceiling mirror. Imbibe anywhere from eight to nine strongly mixed drinks of a citrus liquor and mentally choreograph the night's dance moves.

2. Upon entering the dance club, move your hand up and down in synchronization with the melody of the trance music. This could be a challenge as trance music has no discernible melody. Allow your hand to breathe. Remember to give your wrist free and open movement during the vertical gesticulations that will inevitably accompany your in-the-know posturing.

3. At this point retreat to a dark corner of the dance club. Come down from the high of being in such a celebratory environment. Stare intently at fellow dancers. Do not, I repeat, do not avert your gaze until fellow dancers acknowledge your acknowledgement of the solidarity of the dance club. You will now be in proper community with fellow dancers.

4. Find a partner once contemporary urban music sounds from the club's public address system. Place your genitalia against your partner's buttocks/small of back. Gyrate said genitalia against said buttocks/small of back as urban music dictates.

5. At this point, everybody in the dance club will be on the precipice of intoxication. This is a positive development according to J-Kwon. Exclaim in your most adamant, shrill voice that you are the owner of the space where the dance is being consummated. This will impress the female demographic while gaining the communal respect of the male populace.

6. Do everything in your power to restrain yourself from getting sexually aroused during this intimate dance. Do not resort to duct tape. Although it is a very masculine tape, own up to your arousal. However, if this does happen to occur, simply tell your partner that you have come to profoundly appreciate the way his/her parts connect and your tumescent member is merely a show of gratitude.

If you militantly follow these six steps, you will successfully commence the party. Congratulations! Parties are fun and prosperous. May all readers have many parties in their future.

Everybody Is On Facebook

Muqtada al-Sadr

Interested in: Shariah law

Realtionship Status: In a Relationship

Looking For: Shiite Regional Dominance, Anything I Can Get

Birthday: Rabi-II 5, 1395

Hometown: Najaf, Iraq. Sadr City, what up!

Political Views: Very Conservative

Interests: Self-flagellation, beards, hanging with friends, fueling sectarian violence, cruising, garish posters of myself

Favorite Music: Forbidden because its un-Islamic but I have a soft spot for Sisqo

Favorite T.V. Show: "According to Jim", al-Jazeera

Favorite Movies: "Billy Madison", "Happpy Gilmore", "Big Daddy". Adam Sandler is one hilarious Zionist.

Favorite Books: Koran, "7 Habits of Highly Effective People", "The DaVinci Code"

Favorite Quotes: "Get 'er done!", "Where's the Beef?", "Death to the Great Satan"

Jimmy Jack

Jimmy Jack was a drifter. His only home was the open road, his only bed the well-trodden path, his only toothbrush his urine soaked fingers. That last part wasn't metaphorical. Jimmy Jack frequently pissed himself. He had one of those archetypcal vague pasts: an Army brat, in and out of countless schools, a brief stint in the Merchant Marines, host of "Family Feud" for a few forgettable seasons. He's loved and lost, been married, separated, divorced, legally restrained, and finally, repeatedly soiled himself. It's a bit of a motiff. Jimmy Jack's been through Florida, Washington State, Kansas, never Peoria but it's on his list. What? You didn't think Jimmy Jack kept lists. He has numerous in fact. They include but are not limited to "Places I Want To Be Arrested For Vagrancy In", "Dan Brown Books I Want To Read", and "Women With Specific Names I Must Sleep With Before I Die" which include "Darlene", "Sandy", and "Crystal".
Jimmy Jack rarely complained, he takes what life gives him and life has given him a shrunken head, a fin as his sole appendage, and a natural body odor oddly reminiscent of overcooked venison. Jimmy Jack's been a guest on "Antiques Roadshow". He was dissapointed to find out that his staple gun dating back to the existence of Pangea was appraised for only $3.75. The appraiser described it as your average staple gun bought at any comtemporary office supplies store, roughly dating back to 2004. It was an investment Jimmy Jack regretted in hindsight. Jimmy Jack was a loveable throwback to a dirtier, meaner, more sexist time. I'm sad to see Jimmy Jack go. Sometimes God takes the great ones too early. However, that was definitely not the case with Jimmy Jack, for he was a mediocre person prone to bouts of incoherent harrangues against the Canadian government, the female sex, and inanimate lightpoles. The fact that Jimmy Jack now rests in an oversized pizza box, by request, mind you, is testament to, well, his love for pizza and that's about it. I don't think there's anything symbolic about it. The man just loved pizza.

...And twins

I am a robust American male. Oh God, do I love my leisure time. I got to say--relaxing during my leisure time is what it's all about. And don't get me started on sports highlights. I would kill an orphan if it stood in the way of me watching sports highlights until I'm blue in the face. The comfort and assurance of a perfectly executed touchdown pass provides me with all the emotional support I need. I must be honest. I make and close deals business deals at quite a frequency. Sure, I listen to music. Some Zeppelin, Stones, a little Aerosmith. I've recently gotten into Velvet Revolver with that dude from STP. They rock pretty good. Oh man, and women...girls--the legs, the chest, the behind--there's nothing I don't like. If attractive girls and beer, maybe like a Sam's seasonal, could be made into like a burrito, I think that would be duly nutritional for your's truly. You better believe I like guys night out. Livin it up, you know. Letting loose, going to stripclubs, going back to your mom's basement, engaging in hyper sexual homoerotic dialogue with your bros. You know me, I guess I'm of a different generation, old school--red meat, chicks, beer, hyper sexual homoerotic dialogue. Oh yeah, and self-immolation. After all my leisure time is spent and all the sports highlights watched and all the babes conquered, I fantasize about lighting myself on fire. Don't get me wrong, not as a political protest or anything, just to see what it's like. I am a robust American male for pete's sake.