Sparty Love

Your sister Buzzkill goers to Michigan State, home of frat parties, shitty football, and, evidently, religious cults.

She will become the anti-you by joining a group of religious freaks. No booze, no smokes, no sex, no dancing, no touching, no unchaperoned interaction. And no fun, as far as anyone can tell.

But lots of praying, and some of the most stilted tone-deaf arrhythmic “singing” and “dancing” to crappy music one can imagine. (Try to sing and dance “Jesus is lord/ I refuse to think for myself anymore/please donate to my church” to a funeral dirge or a Teletubby song. Clap, in a faux-backbeat, for the full effect.)

Anyway, the CULT church will select her godly mate from an approved pool of nerdly virgins. Buzzkill’s future husband, Skippy will appear to be cloned from the same catatonic space pod as she seems to now occupy. They decide to defile the local chapel with their “wedding.”  Cute note:  no practice kiss at the rehearsal.

His folks (from California) will spring for an open bar at the rehearsal dinner, correctly assuming that it will be populated by your local tightass relatives and the space couple’s crazy, uptight religious freak friends.  In other words, it will be a cheap, under-appreciated gesture – plus they can get through this without the pain of sobriety. Make them regret that decision to buy YOUR drinks and show your appreciation by ordering drinks for the whole table. Most of them are nut jobs too, and will be horrified by their proximity to alcohol.

Skin to win

Offer to drink whatever is left over, because “waste is a sin.” Be the last person to toast the future couple (who, at this point, haven’t even kissed each other). Do it with a beer in hand for dramatic effect.  Adding a joke about 7-Eleven (where they told you the news) is a nice touch, since they are boycotting it over Playboy.

Then, take Buzzkill’s future brother in law, who is a normal dude, to the local bars. Drink way too much, but don’t kill anyone while driving around. The next night when all the cool people (that guy, his folks, you and 8 Barrel) are drinking in the folks’ hotel room, just keep your damn mouth shut when the Dad thanks you for being “safe” the night before.

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