Dear Frank... (not) Sorry I Crashed Your Party.

Dear Frank,

Your wife rocks. And I wish that I had remorse for crashing your birthday party, but the fact is, I don't. It was the best party I've ever been to. (This may have something to do with the copious amounts of wine we drank.) And I've been to some parties Frank. There was the time that Janet and Lyndsey arrived home from Myrtle Beach to find me, Jay, Andrea Miles, and a host of other Godknowswho people passed out in the living room and a kitchen floor filled with beer. There were several basket room adventures at Natalie's parties that come to mind not to mention a party in which I tackled Jackie in her yard. I know parties Frank, and your Gale is a fucking awesome party planner.




First, you had the element of surprise. Yeah, I know you were wigging out in the limo thinking we were going to an amateur comedy club in Findlay. But the ANTICIPATION Frank! Oh the anticipation! I have been waiting a year and a half... it was worth the wait. Wait, right... this is about you Frank. All about you.




Second, and this is a doozy... the food and drink were to die for. To. Die. For. Lovely. Yummy. Delish. Decadent. When can we go back?



Third, the music was killer... well except Dave fucking with the radio (and the heat) in the DISCO limo. But My Bloody Valentine as dinner music. Dude.



Fourth, Rico was drunk and highly entertaining.



So in summary Frank, your party rocked. I don't even feel the slightest remorse that I made my mom call your wife the day before and try to weasel us in. I'm not even a little bit sorry Frank. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.


Happy 54th!
Cheers,
The Party Crasher

PS. Can I get on the list for next year?

PPS. For more information on Revolver click here.