Swine flu is so yesterday. Say hello to the recent epidemic sweeping the nation with seedy Sunday mornings and battered livers – Overpartyitis.

“A roaring 20’s party? But I just went to one of them last weekend. Plus I spent all my money buying damn Spotlight feathers for my headpiece.” 

Is this your life at the moment? Because it certainly is mine.

If you are like me, a 20-somethingorother Generation Y partygoer with a penchant for gin and a frequently updated Facebook “Events” page, you too may be suffering from overpartyitis. Symptoms of overpartyitis include: a very empty wallet from purchasing presents. A steadily growing pile of costumes you’ll never wear again. Awful baby photos of your friends etched into your brain. A well-rehearsed groan to use in retaliation to any “want to pitch in with us to get them a camera worth $155890000098990.93?” attempts. 

For me at the moment, there is no cure. It’s going to continue up until early 2010. Why? Because my parents, and my friends’ parents, all decide to procreate in the same month twenty years ago and have thus created the crisis that I face today. twenty-first parties weekend after weekend, left, right, and centre.

Even if you’re past the era of twenty-firsts, you must remember what it’s like. I have found myself  inundated

with 21st party invites for five weeks in a row, this weekend standing as no exception. Nikki’s, Chris’ and Lynley’s are on the cards this week, with each of them sharing a common denominator. They are all on this Saturday night. And all of them have a separate theme.

Which brings me to my next point: the theme party.

As a prime Generation Y specimen, I can say now that we know we’re lazy. However, in such a festive time of year our laziness is starting to work against us. We are starting to dislike the theme party. Yet the invitations for ‘glitter’, ‘pimps and wizards of the future’ and ‘80s’ gigs keep coming, despite how much we repel them. So why do our friends insist on costuming us?

The answer is simple. Because theme parties have an 
effect no plainclothed 21st could ever hope to achieve: total social freedom.

Let’s face it, Adelaide is very cliquey. A taxi driver once told me (at 3am, after I’d thrown up out of his cab window) that Adelaide nightlife is like a country town, but that our bottle shop industry is thriving. I took this gem of knowledge on board, and thought about it the next day while nursing 
my head with an arsenal of Panadol Rapid. Why is it like 
this? Because us SA folk like to stay at home. With the 
same friends. With the same crowd. Oh Adelaide, you 
never change do you…

As a direct result of our reclusiveness, it’s made it very hard to become formally acquainted with one another. Just a lot of knowing glances at the Ed Castle and Facebook stalking. This is where theme parties come in. What better way to befriend those you’ve been too shy to in the past than to adorn a kilogram of makeup, a pseudo identity and a beer equipped in each hand for the night? Eeeeexactly.

We keep throwing these theme parties because they deconstruct the social barriers that hinder us from engaging with strangers. A lobster will spot a crab from across the room, and their mutual crustacean costumes will bring them together. A fairy to a witch. A pimp to a ho (though I think it goes without saying that everybody interacts at that kind of theme party.) No preconceived notions. No judgemental stares. No hesitation at conversation. Just free-flowing, costumed, drunken debauchery – ahhh, how it should be!

Last weekend I attended my housemate Genevieve’s party. The theme was “Big”, with the hostess adorned in a giant penis costume. Balls out.  I bet her $30 to make out with a stranger, and then have a photo taken of said making out, while in costume. 

Put it this way. I am now a poorer woman by $30.

miranda@merge.com.au