March 16, 2006

Jason Shim came to the murder mystery party wearing a pair of underwear on his head.

“I’m pretending to be you tonight,” he said with obvious satisfaction.

“Are they clean at least?” I asked, leaning over politely to sniff them.

“No. I just finished rubbing my ass all over them. Look, here’s a brown spot!”

And for the next three hours he proceeded to abrasively thrust himself into everyone’s face, flailing his arms and shouting about his penis. “Fuck! Everything is so raw and beautiful, I think I have an erection,” he shouted. “My cock is so hard I can hardly keep it in my pants. Oops. Look! It’s all over the internet and your face. I think I’m going to ejaculate buckets of cum everywhere!”

When the girl playing Laura showed up at the party, he slobbered all over her face in the corner, afterwards wiping saliva off on his underwear. The fictional Laura kept writing in a notebook about her vagina while I killed people.

I think that Jason is better and more terrifying at playing me than I am. Late in the night, I grabbed his underwear, pulled them over my head, and we walked into the dark together arm-in-arm.