Sometimes I end up at a party where I knew a friend of a friend of a friend. Art parties, punk parties, youth parties, poet parties, drummer parties, sophisticated parties, hippie parties, frat parties, actor parties, wine parties, keg parties, dry parties, pot parties, dance parties, nothing parties, full house parties, three-bands-in-one-room parties, and of course nights when I say screw it all and find a way to party all by myself.

A mainstay at every party is alcohol. It is the socially acceptable tension breaker, and if everyone at a gathering turns out to be against you, stiff drinks may be your best friend. Marijuana is also acceptable, but it is polite to pull the participants into circle away from the main crowd (unless it's a hippie party or any place where the flavored smoke is wafting throughout).

This Saturday, I ended up at an intellectual early thirty-ish shindig. No dancing or yelling, and the music was at a chattable level. I was underdressed, but I've always had difficulty matching the appropriate attire. If I hang around long enough, everyone becomes accustomed to my apparel and the looks of scorn and confusion melt away.

As with every party, the chit-chat meanders through dozens of conversations I hardly expect to get into at the beginning of the night. Since it's the next morning, I'll see if I can remember the highlights. If I can't remember them now, I never will:

Nietzsche made a heavy impact on many people. His maniacal, self tormenting realization has taught many people that the most powerful substance we have is the thoughts inside our head. But Nietzsche is hit or miss. When he talks about God, enlightenment and the pangs of society, I'm shaking my head in the affirmative believing no one said it better (by the way, talking about the pangs of society in a social situation is a damn good example of irony). When Nietzsche gets going on a woman's place in the world and eighteenth century jargon, his message fizzles.

WARNING: Never discuss philosophers at a frat, dance, youth or punk party. You're just asking for trouble.

Drink the gin until it's gone. Then switch to scotch whiskey. Then vodka. Then bourbon. Then tequila. Then (and only then) admit you have a drinking problem.

Christ has imprinted his name on the names of people, including yours truly. Christopher, Kristen, Kristy, Christina, Crissy, etc. Throughout time, the most popular book in history has become the basis for the majority of names in Western Civilization. I'm surprised that the Old Testament character Nimrod turned out to be a condescending term. He never did anything wrong. Now, King David, on the other hand, coveted his neighbor's wife, but we never refer to adultery as "pulling a David."

WARNING: Never discuss religion with the religious.

What do you think about that girl? Really? Really? Oh. Hunh. Oh well. What do you think about that one then?

A woman explained her flowery tattoo as a moment when she was a scatterbrained twenty-five year old. I asked how old she was, and she said thirty. She asked how old I was, and I said a scatterbrained twenty-five years old. The conversation ended soon afterwards.

One man's dream is to teach at a community college in a small redneck town and raise goats, chickens and horses on the side. I couldn't find anything wrong with that.

Being well-traveled does necessarily translate to being more cultured. It does mean deep pockets or deep debt.

Have you noticed the bathroom is always full when you need it the most? Ha ha ha ha. No man, I'm already in line. Ha ha ha. No seriously, I'm next. Ha ha ha. No seriously.

I'm a writer. Some journalistic pieces here and there, but fiction. That's the my real passion. You can do anything you want with fiction. No limits. I also write a weekly column called Shut Up I'm Talking. What? Oh. Nice to meet you, too.

What time is it? Who drove us here? Oh yeah, I did.

Chris Jungle is available for your next get together.