Ia! Ia! Baby work it! Insanely fabulous!
First things first: who knew the frozen tundra was absofuckingloutely roasting in the summertime? I guess 24 hours of sunlight and no clouds, ever, will do that to you.
The remedy? BOOZE POPS! I’m wondering what kind of rum I can get at the liquor store to mix into these, because the freezer I’ve got can turn a bottle of lukewarm coke into a coke slurpee in about 15 minutes.
Everybody dance now!
Yeah, okay. Maybe just that one guy dance, and everybody else watch him. And here I thought hipsters couldn’t move in those skinny pants! The fact that he performs this (and you really have to give it more than 30 seconds) in what looks like the setting for the world’s seediest amateur porn only makes the whole thing more fabulous.
Now that we’ve set the mood, the guests have started to arrive. The occasion, in case you’re wondering: a joint party (no puns, I hate smelly, dull people who mumble nonstop about pizza) for the birthdays of Julian Assange and myself. And look: everyone’s sitting down to dinner.
Happy Birthday, Mister President of Wikileaks
Who else was there? Oh, all the top celebrities. And what did they talk about? Each other, of course. And if you click over the jump to the celebrity gossip roundup, you’ll be able to read the whole thing.