Everyone has a party playlist because party playlists are easy. Throw in a bunch of Top 40 hits, some classic rock, and maybe a few boy band B-sides as a "joke," and you're all set. But which songs pair best with a night of disappointment? Sit back, pick up the nearest liter of booze, and spin these tracks:
Ahh, the quizzical frustration and anxiety that comes in the first hour of your planned soiree when you've yet to hear anyone knock on your door. Did you text everyone the wrong address? Should you update the Facebook invite? Call them all personally? Most importantly, do you get to drink yet? You don't want to be too drunk when everyone shows up, after all. Maybe you should just rearrange the furniture (again) to make sure the conversations will really flow when they get here.
Okay, it's been nearly two hours since people were supposed to start showing up and so far the only correspondence you've had is with your neighbor who texted you to say he's sorry he couldn't show up for the party but he had to go to the hospital to visit his dying grandmother. Which really sucks, because he was supposed to bring extra beer. What is everyone going to drink when they get here? You really should have written BYOB somewhere in your invitations!
Stop pacing for a minute and just take a deep goddamn breath, would you? Hey. Hey! Coldplay said not to panic. Keep your shit together until your guests arrive. You don't want them to see you like this. That's not the proper party attitude.
...Wait, where's that Iggy Azalea song coming from? Is your neighbor having a party of his own?? What the fuck happened to his dying grandma??? What an asshole. I bet his grandma's been dead for years.
Welp, that's a big hit to your festivities. He likely siphoned off quite a few of your guests since he has all that extra beer over at his place. Fucking fancy, imported beer for fucking fancy, imported Bjorn! That's why you never trust a Swede. Listen to that bastard and his--no, your--friends dancing all rowdily, causing a ruckus over there. That's probably too much ruckus for Bjorn to handle, anyhow. He should divert some of that dancing and ruckus over here. After all, that motherfucker owes you.
There's no one around. There's just...no one. You'd think there'd be a small bit of runoff from Bjorn's shindig by now, maybe someone stopping by your place to ask for a cup of sugar or something. But nope. You don't have anyone to share that sugar with.
Uh oh. It's happening. You're becoming so depressed that you're actively listening to Yellowcard. And you're not even drunk yet. You should probably fix at least one of those two things.
Fuck it. Crank up that So-Cal pop punk and start chugging, friend. You've got a long night of solo karaoke ahead of you.
Sure, this song was originally on your party playlist. And yes, it would probably be more fitting if there were people here who might entertain the idea of touching your genitals. Or
just...any people at all. Specifically, though, people in their mid-40s wearing straw hats and drinking margaritas out of plastic cups they got for free on their last vacation to Fort Lauderdale.
Sweet Moses, why is this song playing? Why would this song ever be playing?? Your neighbors might be able to hear this, ya know! Stop singing this song and go stick your head into another deep glass of beer, please.
How many friends do you think Vertical Horizon has? More than the number of people in the band? It can't be more than 6. Oh God, is it more than you? Do you have less friends than 90s pop-rock group Vertical Horizon??
Shake it off, man. Shake that thought off right this second! You might be blitzed right now and yeah, you'll probably fall asleep in a Jenga pile of your own vomit without anyone to make sure none of it gets in your eyes, but dammit man, you definitely have more friends than Vertical Horizon!
Hey, you know who else drinks alone? Fucking rock stars! If George Thorogood, a man literally so bad that it affects his bones, prefers to consume alcohol all by his lonesome, then who the hell are you to complain about shoving each and every one of those Jager bombs down your own throat?
Awww yeeaahhh! There it is! And there it is again! That Jager sure packs a lot of whoomps.
You know what? To hell with Bjorn! Him and his not-currently-dying-but-
probably-long-dead-grandma can go suck a dick. You don't need either of them. You can have a ballin' ass time with just you, yourself, and Tag Team. And they suggest whoomping it right the fuck up. On the coffee table, near the open fridge, while holding a pitcher of a viciously strong tropical drink intended for a group of four...
Ok, that was incorrect. That was very, very much incorrect. You can't have a good time tonight. It's just not in the cards, compadre. Let's face it, if you were capable of being the life of the party, all of those assholes at Bjorn's would have come crawling over here, begging for you to end the massive boredom at his "get-together." They would have said it just like that. With get-together in air quotes. But they haven't because you aren't the life of the party, even when it's a party of one.
But maybe you can cry into that soon-to-be-empty bottle of cheap whiskey. Yeah, I bet you can do that real good.