I threw a party at my Chicago apartment once. It was sorta a going away bash, before shit hit the fan and I lost the girl, job and apartment. I made an invitation for the party and I was drunk when I wrote it. It turned out it was kind of a hit with some of the guests. Two gals said the posted it on their refrigerator. I’ll explain the title at the end.

VCN RASTA PARTY

SHIT HAPPENS this Saturday. On this date you will come to this address: 0000 W. Medill Apt. B, as in the garden apt. for you fuckers who may not know. Bring whatever the #!!#$@!! you want, just as long as it’s not one of those asshole kids. The phone no. is 555-5555 in case your ass gets lost or something. Bring your goddam weird attitude or whatever it is that makes you famous, I don’t give an F. I’m just looking for a good time. This address is by Damen and Fullerton and Western, so your ass shouldn’t get lost. This is the Bucktown area, and it’s the door on the left side of the porch. Don’t go up the fuckin’ stairs or you went too far. The time will be most likely around 9 p.m., but don’t hold that against me, ‘cause I’ll be wasted by then anyhow. It may not be the biggest place, but it’s the weirdest, and as my last girlfriend once said, “Liffey, you’re a freak.” Screw her. I’ll see you here. And keep work talk to a minimum or I’ll fuckin’ throw batteries at your head.

The school I worked at had the initials VCN. Everything else – like I said, I was wasted. I think it’s funny how I used symbols to cover a naughty word yet used plenty of those same words in the text. I disguised the address and phone, as if it mattered.  Anyway, I found this recently (I may scan/photocopy it directly to a post) and….it actually might turn up in some form as a small excerpt from the book I’m working on.

Cheers.

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