- The Egg Ball -
I was late again, but what else was new? I had zero ability of ever being on time - even for the biggest social event of the year: Faustina Rose's annual Egg Ball. Once a year, the hottest of the hottest would get together, sit in giant egg-shell incubators, and eat hard-boiled eggs on $12,000 plates. The sound of boiling water would echo over the speakers while Stevie Knicks sang live in the background. Horses galloped around the room with manes decorated and brushed by Faustina. It was pure decadence and, for the self-proclaimed cooler twin, it was the only way to throw a good party. For me, I was still nude in bed, trying to digest my 90th, egg-based meal in the past 4 weeks. After all, the only way to enter the party was to have 80 meals that included eggs and I was overachiever. 12 "Where the fuck are you?" text messages later from the Egg Queen herself, I finally began to slip my white NicoPanda Tunic on - it was wrinkly as shit, but I was going for the scrambled look anyway. I slicked back my hair, shaved my eyebrows off, and rolled out the door.