A revelation came to me this last weekend, as I was preparing for Smiley 80’s. Yes, Smiley 80’s. I know it’s a long way off, but let’s just say I’m not working on so much of an outfit, but rather, on a recreation of the entire Thriller video, complete with multimillion-dollar makeup jobs and back-up dancers from Harvey Mudd. It will also involve a disco-dancing Che Guevara defeating Ronnie Reagan’s evil empire through the almighty power of Funk. (This will all make sense to you if you keep in mind I never liked the 80s.)

But all this preparation did lead to a light bulb appearing over my head: if Smiley has Smiley 80’s and Harwood has Harwood Halloween, what do the other dorms have? The rough equivalent of jack shit, I surmised. So I sat down and spent over 15 minutes coming up with the best possible ideas for other dorm-affiliated parties. Each is unique in a certain way, while also adding something to the mythos of each living environment. Well, Wig and Warhol both start with the same letter, anyway. Here ya are:

Wig Warhol Party: This event gives you the opportunity to dress up in your favorite postmodern outfit. Sip champagne while discussing the works of Derrida or some obscure but incredibly over-rated author. Don’t forget to look ostensibly bored throughout the conversation, or you will be labeled a fake and have a leather glove slapped in your face. Look for me in the giant banana suit.

Lawry Led Zeppelin Party: Here’s your chance to follow in the footsteps of those kings of debauchery in this startlingly life-like portrayal of the rock and roll after-party. Groupies of every age and deviancy will be available, as will enough cocaine to light up the Nova Scotia shoreline (just go with it). Once you’re properly good and wasted, record label executives will come and whine to you about your next album’s direction and how important tomorrow’s show in Philadelphia will be to your career. All this while, you pull a Bonham and lose your guts all over the bathroom floor. Lobsters will not be provided.

Walker Lucky Fucking Freshmen Party: Celebrate getting to know God’s chosen people, those first-years who have wound up with rooms comparable to your local Hilton, with rumors of adding butlers and an indoor Jacuzzi in the spring of 2003. I’m thinking of dropping out of Pomona and then re-applying as a freshman just so I can finally avoid living in a room which has a ceiling that I am convinced will collapse on me during my innocent slumber (if the spiders don’t get to me first). No dress code, but you had better bring gifts or risk being cut out of the inner circle forever.

Mudd-Blaisdell Mock Party: Building upon the "mocktail" concept of cruelly providing freshmen with drinks that should by all rights be alcoholic but are actually as potent as an uppercut from grandma, the Mock Party will provide many other opportunities to simulate the feeling of enjoyment, such as a prop stereo that does not play actual music, a Nintendo which offers only "Barbie: The Video Game," and a smoke machine which dispenses carbon monoxide. Guests will be provided with O-Chem textbooks and must memorize and recite the entire periodic table before being allowed to leave the party. I would actually really love to organize this event.

Oldenborg Tower of Babel Party: Seeing as everyone who lives in Oldenborg at least pretends to understand a foreign language, this idea basically writes itself. Lock all the bilinguals in a room together and force them to speak their second language, even if nobody else has a clue what they’re trying to say. English will be completely forbidden, and anyone found disrespecting this rule will be forced to conjugate the verb "to be" in every language known to man. Don’t know a second language? Make one up! I’m going to be brushing up on my Hopelandish, so watch out! Bonus fun: each language area adopts the laws of its home country, essentially bringing the legal drinking age down to 16 in most quads and making seven the new legal age of consent in a few rooms.

Lyon Libido Party: Just imagine the fun and chaos that ensue when horny teenagers get together to dry-hump and gyrate to the beat of such songs as Snoop Dogg’s "Ain’t No Fun." Why, it’d be like nothing ever seen on the… wait. Come to think of it, that pretty much describes every weekend in Lyon anyway. OK, let’s just drop that.

Norton-Clark "Where The Fuck Is This Place, Anyway?" Party: Half the fun will be trying to find this mythical dorm, which I hear may or may not be made up of some of the rooms south of Frary. Or maybe that’s Clark Five. Or Scripps. There are probably upperclassmen living there, but for all I know, it could be a horde of angry Mongols watching and waiting to smite the heathens and rebuild their glorious empire. You know, I should probably get out more.