The DJ slapped on the number one on Great Satan's Hit Parade - Katy Perry's runaway smash chick on chick tune "I Kissed A Girl."
"I kissed a girl and I liked it, the taste of her cherry chapstick.
I kissed a girl just to try it, hope my boyfriend don't mind it.
It felt so wrong, it felt so right. Don't mean I'm in love tonight."
Natch, the unfun brigade (ancient, elderly and prob wouldn't recogize a good time if it sat on their face) quickly screamed "Unclean!" and launched into a boring, pessimistic diatribe about how culture was circling the drain.
Your truly (after several illicit imbibations later informed were 'Fuzzy Navels") totally disagreed - and using the tune's middle eight to point out (with especial emphasis on the last line)
"Us girls we are so magical - Soft skin, red lips, so kissable
Hard to resist so touchable Too good to deny it
Ain't no big deal, it's innocent"
They were not entirely convinced.
A fortnight back, plotting a party posse panzer blitz to Georgia (almost like Russia) to a future alma mater - opening weekend at Fraternity Row was heralded as a full blown blow out. Hot guys, free booze and live music at every frat.
So after careful prep, inspection and travel a BMW load of hot! sassy, classy, sexyful hillbilly grrls - scented, sweet, soft, sophisticated and wearing nearly 2K dollars worth of au currant couture hit town right before dark. In short order party posse quickly discovered a rocking party and viola!
We gave each other the "Hey! We are the hottest grrls here!" look.
Faster than one can say "democratic imperatives" we were courted, dancing and enjoying the players gunning their engines and kicking their Messerschmitts in a dive to make a play.
We were on fire! Magnetic and irresistable - and all together with it.
When the band took a break, escorts quickly escorted party posse into the sanctum santorium (kind of a combo lounge, sitting room, library looking place. Tons of books, comfy chairs and of course, a fully stocked bar) for an especial beverage from private reserves. An antique engravingly etched objet d'art punch bowl with a psychadelic grape colored elixir on ice.
Party posse's royal taster intell'd it was like pure grain alcohol and grape Kool Aid - with a dash of Red Bull - the infamous "purple panty remover"
More guys and girls showed up. It was cool - party posse was maintaining air superiority, when the break music cranked up with Katy Perry's tune from a month past.
Two girls (who were way too tall) started kissing. Like French style.
Instantly all the gallant, chivalrous, hot! guys who were mesmerized by our every breath - instantly xformed into uncouth heathens, ran over with every other guy in the room and started yelling and screaming "pushy!" (only they weren't saying 'pushy') and high fiving each other and left us in the dust.
It was devastatingly completely clear - transparently, and seemingly counterminiously.
This was the front line in the 'Culture War'
Appearantly, it doesn't really matter how smart, beautiful, high class, educated, connected, designer dressed a girl is. - hotties are totally ignored thanks to two off the rack K Mart ho's sucking face.
Launching the counterattack with a half remembered adage -
Party posse quickly hopped up and up and siezed the high ground - the bar. No one could get a drink without getting through us.
This was it - the moment to regain the iniative -
When in Athens do as the Athenians do?