Singles event from hell

Okay. I admit, I went to this party under false pretenses so in hindsight, I got what I deserved. But this event was seriously horrid. Why did I hate it? Let me count the ways:

1. Silver holographic heart stickers used to indicate your status. Two heart stickers per label if you're part of a couple. One lone heart if you're a singleton. Why not just brand a scarlet "S" onto my boobage and be done with it? I'll even moo and pretend to enjoy it.

2. Adjectives used instead of names on ID tags. I would have given this a pass had the greeter not asked: "Do you know what an adjective is?" My friend dragged me away before I could bitchslap the wench into next week.

3. Party held in completely darkened art gallery.When I asked why all the lights were off, I was snottily told that the gallery required "ambiance." Hmm...I see. Art does not = "ambiance." So, what..."ambiance" = stranger groping boobage accidentally/on purpose in the dark? Hard up for a cheap thrill, are we? Ha, ha! I said "hard!" Gaaaah! Please...shoot me now!

4. Insipid, grammatically incorrect survey foisted upon attendees.Hey – pretend you're an event planner. You want people to mingle with members of the opposite sex so you pass out a survey with a list of questions to get the conversational ball rolling. Really interesting and arresting stuff like "Are you wearing grey or blue?" and "Is your birthday the same month as mine?" Wow! My schedule is going to be booked with a lot of weddings...tee hee, tee hee! (Time elapsed since arrival: 8 minutes. This marked the beginning of my party-long Quest for Booze.)

5. BLARING karaoke = party music. Honestly, there isn't enough alcohol in the world to make this acceptable in any public social situation.

6. Crustless heart-shaped ham-and-cheese sandwiches drowned in Miracle Whip served as haute cuisine. Presented on silver platters, no less. How charmingly twee. A woman actually squealed with delight at how a-DOR-a-ble they were! Where the hell is Gordon Ramsay when you need him most?!?

7. Potential stalker in da haus. Dude wouldn't! stop! talking! The more deliberately inane I was, the more he loved it. He nearly stalked me to the bathroom! Thank the gods my friend was there to bail me out with her best "Back Off, Ass!" face [TM]. Yes, she was totally golden. And yes, I owed her big time.

8. Speed dating was hellacious. My friend was curious and wanted to watch, not play. I owed her. So, we parked ourselves out of the way to view the unfolding trainwreck. Five minutes later, the hostess auctioned our non-consenting asses off to two strangers. We did the only thing we could – we ran and hid in the karaoke corner.

9. Party-goers were humourless. So there we were, by the karoke. We figured, we're there...we might as have some fun at this shiteous party. (Don't judge! Karoke is crack for asians.) We sang along with some guy in a fedora who was totally rocking Bohemian Rhapsody. We headbanged enthusiastically. I threw devil horns at the crowd.

Turns out the crowd didn't appreciate our "hogging the spotlight" with our "showboating antics." [insert Jon Stewart "Huhhn?" here] They were hella serious about cruisng for their next mate at this party and we were mocking the proceedings by not being dignified. Uh...true. But come on...holographic heart stickers, coy little adjectives instead of names, heart-shaped sandwiches. Who among you could have resisted the snark? Don't lie!!

10. The glitterati were illiterati.My friend's adjective for the night was "Sparkly," in honour of her love for all things shiny. Turns out nearly everyone that night called her "Sparky." She was not amused. I pointed out that it was a built-in way for her to eliminate the swimmers from the shallow end of the gene pool. She arched an eyebrow at me and countered, "if you can't read, you can't date me?" We paused, sighed heavily, grabbed our coats and left.

But not before I woofed twice at her and called "Here Sparky! C'mere girl!"