Here's the next big party theme: 7th grade. Now, I know what you're all thinking; "'Hello, FBI, yes, I'd like to report an Internet predator.' But this time it's not like that, check it out"

Only invite the cool kids – If I have to explain this one to you, consider yourself NOT invited. Go play Monopoly with the herbs at the Youth Club.
Oh and my e-mail address is BobberOrzXC@Yahoo.com. If I'm not invited, I'll see you behind the dumpster after eighth period; and I'm bringing all my back. ("btw" I got mad back)

Everyone sneaks in their beer – So you thought you were just gonna prance into this party holding a six pack in plain view? Think again, buster. You're in 7th grade now dawg, and guess what. Your parents don't know you drink. Oh, you thought your parents weren't here? Well who's that guy standing by the door? I'll give you a hint: It's dad. My dad to be exact. And since it's my dad, he's 50-60 pounds overweight and only wearing a V-neck undershirt tucked into a pair of tighty-whiteys.

Training bras WILL be worn – Ladies, I'm sending those boobies back to the minors for some spring training. Yup, toots, that's right. I've seen one set too many of sloppy saggers and I think training bras should be worn, not only during this party, but until I see some major improvements on the sandbags being passed off as nudity on this website's picture section.

Spin the bottle – This game was great in 7th grade and it's even better now. You know why spin the bottle is great? It eliminates the nagging friends of drunk broads that, when you're macking it to said drunk broad, her friend interjects with some proclamation like "'OMG, don't kiss him!' You all know the bleeding cunt I'm talking about: the one who loves pouring cold water all over a boner. Well, once that bottle starts spinning the bleeding C can't say shit because it's in the RULES she's gotta kiss you.

Seven in heaven – I'll admit: I was the fat kid growing up and never played this one. As a fat kid, the only seven I got was seven other guys beating off in a basement to the scrambled Spice channel. (Known formally as a Salami Fest) Regardless, someone has to spend "'seven' in "'heaven' because the concept is awesome. Though, again, I'm not exactly sure what goes on in there, but it's gotta be more than sex. If it were just sex, then the game should be called "Two in Heaven and the Five Most Awkward Minutes of Your Life".

Kick people out just because you decided they're "'gay' – Accusing someone of being gay in junior high is pretty much analogous to accusing someone of being a communist during McCarthyism; and goddamn it, I hate those red commy bastards. So" get those gays outta here! Get'em out!
Sidenote: A great term to bring back is "gaylord", which implies someone is a lord of gayness.

Clean up guys, seriously – Guys I'm not joking. Help get these beer cans outta here. You don't think my dad saw the beer, do you? Did the basement door just open? Shit guys, hurry up before my mom comes down! Someone be lookout. Guys, I can't get caught doing this. I just got my allowance raised to $10 a week. Stop laughing, if I get caught, my mom will call all your moms. Shit. I really don't wanna get grounded again. Shit, shit, shit!" Okay, here's the plan, if my mom asks what we were doing, everyone pretend we were working on the science fair project or something"

Exaggerate everything that happened to everyone at school the next day – So as I was rounding third-motherfucking-base with Jenny McSlutster in my closet, my mom catches us! I'm like knuckles deep at this point, so I look at her and I'm like "'yo whateva mom, I hadda get my dick wet' and she just hands me a pack of condoms, throws me a high five and bounces. Yeah man, it was pretty sweet.


Oh, hey everyone, I have a blog now. All the cool kids are checking it out at Bobberous.Blogspot.com