YA 1: I’m overdressed.
YA 2: You’re not.
YA 1: The socks aren’t too much?
YA 2: You’re ONLY wearing socks. Don’t be so nervous.
YA 1: How can I not be? Everyone here is NAKED, worst of all, they’re all GROOMED. If that girl’s pubic hair is the Buckingham Palace, mine looks like Notre Dame. Post-fire!
YA 2: Okay, so you didn’t realize there was a dress code. Calm down. Listen, when I get nervous, I just picture—well that actually won’t do much here. Earrings on or off?
YA 1: On! They match your nipple piercings. God, now I’m hungry. Why’d I think it was a good idea to starve myself to look good tonight?
YA 2: Well, they have some food here.
YA 1: All they have is cheese balls, animal crackers, and flavored vodka.
YA 2: Oh. That’s a lot of gluten.
YA 1: Hey, uh, what do I do if I poop?
YA 2: What?
YA 1: I stand here naked. Have a couple of drinks. Share a few laughs. Then, say, after four Dixie cups full of the cheese balls and flavored vodka, what should I do if—I don’t know—if I poop?
YA 2: Just go to the bathroom.
YA 1: I can’t.
YA 2: Why?
YA 1: I’m not at liberty to say.
YA 2: You pooped.
YA 1: I pooped. You know, I’m not that nervous anymore.