Avant garde, no?

Greetings, Potential Party Attendees!

Welcome to the official Cam Sexenheimer guide to attending a party.

Step 1: Get to the party.

Daniel should have given you directions... it's advisable to take these with you when you're leaving your house.

Step 2: Making conversation.

Try and make polite conversation... Potential topics include politix, religion, and the finer things in life: Cheap cask wine and flashing Casino lights.

Step 3: Ending conversation.

Sometimes, conversations get to be a bit much. You can only pull someone's head through a pane of glass so many times for having the audacity to both diss and dismiss obscure 80s new wave band Gang Of Four, before you start to bleed from all the shards of glass embedded in your arm. Bleed all over your STYLISH HUNTING JACKET!

If this happens, you need to bring the conversation to a screeching halt. Take this real-life example from last night.

The topic of conversation: Birthday presents.

Daniel: What would you get for someone you really hated?
Dr. Cam: I'd get them an empty box.
Daniel: I think I'd get them a really ugly cactus.
Dr. Cam: No... that's too ambiguous for me.
Daniel: Yeah, I see your point, I mean... Does this guy hate me, or does he really think this is a good present?
Dr. Cam: Exactly! Hate is the rawest human emotion... you can't have any wishy-washy cactuses... an empty box brings with it clarity as to the nature of your relationship: I fucking loathe you... enjoy your box.
Amanda: I'd just give them a flaming bag of dogshit.
Dr. Cam: I'd rape his wife.
Everybody laughs, as we have not yet crossed the line which should not be crossed.
Dr. Cam: Yeah, I'd get down with his wife and write "happy birthday" on her stomach in semen and menstrual blood.

Line crossed.

Step 4: Keeping in the good books with the neighbours.

Now, I think it's fair to say that a good proportion of the folk reading this are city-slickers... driving around in your SUVs, sipping your cappucinos and your chardonnay and your chardonnay with fluffy stuff on top (Chardocino), and insidiously working towards bringing Australia into an old-fashioned Trotsky's Permanent Revolution.

For you, keeping in the good books with the neighbours means not having your Bach or Brahms or Revolting Cocks up too loud.

But we're country folk, guys... We do things differently out here.

Out here in the country, men are men, women are women, and people wearing pink shirts are fags. A metrosexual is someone who fucks Geo Metros. The beer is colder, the summers warmer, the other Country-Victoria-Related qualities, more qualityed...er.

So instead of... "Excuse me, old bean, would you mind turning down the Handel, me and the missus are trying out this new sodomy thing, and it's a bit distracting."

We get... "Really, I'm the nicest guy in the world... But move your fucking cars off my nature strip!"

Note, the "nature strip" was a strip of grass quite some distance from his house, on the side of his property. Oh, and he'd been drinking for some time. Oh, and he was armed.

Step 5: I've got straightedge.

You don't need to drink to be loud and obnoxious!


Dr. Cam: Right, I'm off to Pakenham to get SteveSteve from the trainstation.
A Friendly Cowboy: Um... are you right to drive?
Dr. Cam: Yeah! I'm stone-cold sober!
A Friendly Cowboy: WHAT!?!?!?

See, earlier, while I'd been talking with Max with an X, this cowboy had walked past, and I thought he was crying for some reason, though he wasn't.

Dr. Cam: Are you okay, man?
Cowboy: Yeah, yeah... no worries.
Dr. Cam: Cool.. I thought you were crying for some reason. I don't think I could stand a sad cowboy!

Step 6: Every rose has it's thorn, like every night has it's dawn, and every cowboy sings a sad, sad song.

Step 6 is not particularly relevant to most parties, but they are wise words you should keep in mind as you go about your day-to-day business.

You now know everything you need to know to be an ideal party guest! Drink and be merry, my friends!

Drink... and be merry.

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