I'm at a party.

Let me rephrase that.

I, Paris Gellar, am at a party.

I've taken Tristin advice on the three G's. And now I'm at a party. Supposedly to 'go out, get high, and get laid.'

Of course when Rory heard, she almost died of shock. But being the good friend she is, and because I kind of threatened her with a dull butter knife, whichever you choose, she came with me.

And apparently, judging by the kid up on the roof there, letting loose means running around in the nude screaming, "WHOO HOO! BON JOVI!"

"Ugh, that's sick," Rory winced, disgusted.

"Yeah I know," I mutter, "Gosh, to think people would actually have to decency to wear clothes—

"No I meant that."

I follow her gaze to the gagging sight of Tristin DuGrey sticking his tongue down some poor girl's throat.

I tilted my head and frowned, "You know, it's a modern miracle she's still able to breath like that. Judging by the average human lung capacity and the way he's clogging up her esophagus, it's a wonder she's still alive."

Rory angled her head, "He's eating her face."

"She doesn't seem to mind."

"Like that's a first."

Tristin all of a sudden caught us staring and winked in Rory's direction (in which her received an eye roll in return) all without bothering to detach his mouth from the girl.

"God," she groaned, finally breaking her gaze from the scene, "To think he'd actually have some maturity by now, he's like Peter Pan."

Peter pan?As in the kitchen utensil?"What?"

She nodded thoughtfully, "Actually, he wouldn't be caught dead in those polyester tights. And if Tristin was Peter Pan, the whole female population in Neverland would be suffering from STDs."

"That goes without saying…"

"Ahh… poor Tiger Lily."

Tiger Lily?

"Tiger Lily?"

"You know, the little Indian princess."

I stare at her blankly, "What kind of idiot king would name their kid after a plant?"

"This comes from the girl that's named after the capital of cheese."

"Paris is not the capital of cheese!"

"You just keep telling yourself that," she says, "I still can't believe you've never watched Peter Pan."

"Disney movies are trash."

Rory stares at me as if I had just shot her cat, "You can't be serious. Cinderella is a classic!"

"If that includes tricking young girls into believing in fat fairies in need of Jenny Craig. And the little mermaid, don't get me startedon the little mermaid. Giving little girls a bad influence, it encourages them to run around in clam bras brushing their hair with forks! It's because of the little mermaid that prostitutes exist! One day you're a cute little girl in a clam bra, the next you're a high school drop out stuffing cash inside your--"

Rory lets out a yelp and covers her ears, "Oh god! You were one sick, corrupted little girl."

"I blame Robin Hood for that."

"I'm not even gonna ask," she looked around, "Hey have you seen Dean? He said he'd meet me here. Of course he was a tad bit occupied arranging the packs of gum in alphabetical order while I was talking so he might not have heard right."

"No. You know you really need a new boyfriend, maybe a guy that's about ten feet shorter and," short… am I forgetting something? Hm, "and a little smarter, or at least capable of finishing a—Doyle!"

I see Doyle, pushed along the sea of people. It's not easy to get by when you're about a foot shorter than your surroundings.

Ah! RSVP! I forgot to RSVP! I forgot about Doyle! I glance up at the clock. Shoot shoot shoot, 10:31.

So I currently have an hour and 29 minutes to RSVP.

Uh oh. Doyle's gone.

Scrambling around the dance floor. Looking for Doyle. Not the best choice, Gellar. Within seconds I was being swept up in the crowd. No amount of my pushing, shoving, or crude swearing even so closely as affected the huge stampede of drunk asses.

And on top of all that, I lost my shoe. Uh huh.

This is starting to sound mildly familiar. At a party to meet my prince charming( or in this case, my… erm, Doyle) late late late and I lost my shoe.

Yet another reason to hate Cinderella.

AHHH! I see him!

Damn it… Paris… just squeeze… out… of this big… crowd… ARGH…

Almost there…

"Paris, will you please tell Rory that I will kiss whoever I want to?"

Ugh. Tristin.

"Paris, will you please tell Tristin that 'whoever' doesn't involve underage juniors and that daddy's money doesn't buy you out of statutory rape charges?"

Argh. Rory.

"Paris, will you please tell—

"For the love of god will you two give it up? Tristin, you are an ass, you are a stupid, stupid ass! Rory, you are dumb, it's amazing how someone smarter than me could be this dumb! Dump your damn dates and hook up already! Now I would love to be involved with Tristin's every, very, very active ever-revolving sex life but right now, I'm trying to reel myself a boyfriend, so if you'll excuse me, I have to find him!"

Silent, they were now.

There was a tap on my shoulder.

Oops. Dean. And he does not look happy, "Did you just tell my girlfriend to hook upthis blockheadhere?"

"Hahaha…hahaha!" I laughed in his face, "As a matter of fact, yes! Yes I did! Now shove it because I have no time for your reenactment of 'Attack of the Six Foot Freak!' Now," I shook his hand, "Have a nice day, minimum wage grocery bagger. I look forward to seeing you again in the future, next time I'm counting on you're cutting off those hideously floppy bangs and maybe untwisting that expression you have fixed on your face at the moment because that Frankenstein scowl is really not flattering for your complexion. Makes your head look—

"Paris!" Rory cut in, shooting me a desperate glance. An obvious 'get-out-of-here-now-before-my-big-bad-boyfriend-eats-you-alive--please-and-thank-you' look.

I could see what she meant. After making a mental note to enroll Dean in anger management classes and maybe hose his face down while I was at it (it was looking unnaturally red. That throbbing vein on his temple wasn't exactly helping matters), I was off on my search for Doyle again.

Well, an hour later. I was still searching. Stupid big, big house.

And as I peeked into a room, I literally felt my mouth drop to my feet.

Rory Gilmore making out with Tristin DuGrey on a piano bench.

Apparently I missed the headlines informing the acropolyse was near.

Oh damn. They'd better hope Dean doesn't see this.

Still a little dazed, I stumble around the party, too shocked to look for Doyle anymore.

Instead I feel myself collide with a familiar chest, "Oof."

"Paris."

Crap. Can this day get any worse?

"Oh sure Jamie, now's the perfect time to crash into me. Now if you'll excuse me I have to go find a hole to stick my head in now."

I spot Doyle across the room and attempt to push past Jamie's dead weight.

He wouldn't budge.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah well, it's little too late for apologies. Move."

"Paris, let me explain—

ARGH. Are all men this dim witted?

"Jamie," I say, through clenched teeth, "If you do not shove your sorry butt out of my way right this second I will remove your head and use it as a paperweight for the eulogy I'm writing for your funeral after I take off these godforsaken heels and clobber you with them."

No surprise he's gone in a heartbeat.

Now for Doyle…

There's a sudden yell and a crash from the hall.

Damn it. Interrupted again. Is the whole world just against me today!

"You asshole! Stay away from her!"

Hey I recognize that voice…

"Dean it's not what it looks like!"

Next thing I know, Tristin and Dean are tumbling from the hall, wrestling and beating each other into bloody pulps while Rory stumbles after them, tripping over her feet with her shirt half buttoned.

Uh oh.

Apparently Dean had found them.

"Damn it!" Tristin yells, as Dean socks him in the jaw, "Chill, man!"

Chill?

"Chill! I catch you eating off my girlfriend's face and you expect me to chill!"

Another punch.

"Both of you stop it!" Rory is now attempting to break up the little blood brawl. Haha good luck with that.

Dean finally stops clobbering Tristin and turns to his girlfriend.

Uh oh. If Rory has any will to live at all, she'd better run.

Turns out she doesn't have to. There you have it, Rory Gilmore, the only girl in the world that could stand there after making out with another guy with her shirt half off and still look like she belonged on top of a Christmas tree.

Dean's face softened a little when he saw her.

But only for a second.

Then it was right back to angry

"How could you do this to me!" Wow this is better than C Span! "I loved you! I loved you!"

Oookay. Scratch out angry and put in 'in need of rehab… and maybe a lay. Because knowing Rory, she didn't give him any during their two year relationship. Two years without sex could do that to a guy.'

So basically he was saying 'You wouldn't screw me but you're all over him!'

Apparently Tristin decided this was a good time to butt in with one of his ever so witty remarks, "Hey, lay off the soap operas man."

Exactly what I was thinking. Somebody's been watching a little too much Dawson's Creek. The whole Joey-Dawson thing going on? Getting old.

Dean looked about ready to strangle him. And for a second, I thought he was. But instead he did the unthinkable.

He turned around and stalked off. Which is more dramatic than it sounds judging by the fact the guy's about the size of Fuzzy Lumpkins and the whole house shakes when he walks.

Rory kind of sits down really fast and does this little whimper thing and covers her face, looking about ready to disappear, not even bothering to button her shirt

Guess no one's calling her Mary anymore.

Tristin kneels next to her and rubs her back. Which is a pretty big thing because he usually doesn't do anything sweet for a girl unless there are benefits involved and judging by Rory's reputation (or her reputation before all this, anyway) and the look on her face, she's not about to sleep with anyone anytime soon.

Not like I blame the girl.

Doyle! Ah! I completely forgot about Doyle!

Oh great, he's gone.

Thanks a lot, Tristin. And Rory. You two just couldn't keep your horomones in check for just 5 more minutes huh?

Speaking of Rory…she does look pretty miserable…

Sighing, I walk over to comfort her. Damn it I really am going soft.

I grab her arm and pull her away from Tristin who starts to protest but stops when I shoot him my death glare.

I pull her into the bathroom and force her to look at me.

To my absolute dismay, she even looks pretty when she's crying. My life is so unfair.

"Snap out of it, Gilmore."

"I'm a whore," she whimpers.

I scoff, "Yeah right."

"I cheated on my boyfriend, I'm a whore," she sniffles.

"Rory, trust me, you could show up to church in a hooker outfit, sleep with a million guys, wear that hideous Courtney Love lipstick and you still wouldn't be a whore. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you would never show up to church in a hooker outfit or sleep with a million guys. Nor would you ever, ever, god forbid, wear that hideous Courtney Love lipstick. Might I add if you ever do wear that lipstick, you might want to question your sanity and consider enrolling in therapy."

"Oh god, that shade of red is grotesque," She says smiling, and before I know it, she's hugging me. Much against my will, of course.

Grumbling, I mutter, "All I have to say is that kiss had better have to been good because it cost me my second boyfriend."