Well, Little Miss Naia-pants regained her party cred last night, hosting a fantastic little Heroin Chic theme party, complete with rose petals, candles, and syringes.
It was a great time.
It started out as an all-girl party. (What's the opposite of a sausage-fest?) But after 11:30 the Maxes and Walters and TimUrbans of the world started trickling in. By midnight-ish we were all swinging from the chandeliers.
Or on the couch. Drooling.
Somehow I woke up on the pull-out couch snuggled up to Lindsay, thinking she was Owen, their hot neighbor-boy from upstairs.
Oh and of course I had no idea where I put my glasses.
So, being blind as a cavebat I crawled around the ENTIRE apartment, flailing my arms like little antennae for at least twenty minutes. I was about to admit defeat and wake up drunken hungover Naia to help me find them (I had to do this once to Thomas the first week of freshman year, oh god it is quite possibly the most humiliating thing EVER). But then I found them.
I wish my eyes worked like a normal human's.
Stumbled into you blog and thought I'd answer your question (although I'm sure it was rhetorical). The opposite of "sausagefest" is, but is not limited to "clambake" or "beaverdam".
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