Her names are printed on the bottoms of cocktail glasses.
Her face is tattooed on the entrances of all party venues.
Miss party girl doesn’t require an invitation card. Swirling
in between crowds, rubbing onto strangers, constantly
bickering and binge drinking. She’s that loud talking female
calling out for more shots and dancing to every song.
She’s the life of the party, the world is her stage and the
night life is her muse. Dragging her feet in and out of night
clubs and bar hopping through the night. Dancing on tables
and flashing her lingerie; turning up every night.
Different crowds for every theme night. Busy signal is her hue,
her phone is always buzzing. Someone is calling her for a drink
up, night out, or party. “No” isn’t on her vocabulary.
Different phone applications to keep track on parties and events.
She follows all the event organizers and celebrities on social media.
Constantly sharing party photos on Instagram and twitter.
Hash tag, Celebrity party here.
Desperately prowling through the streets to gate crash parties in case
she has no invitation. A self confessed party animal looking for some
fun and attention. Doing average shit just to get a night’s satisfaction.
Her home is a haunted house giving off a rare stench that insinuates
crimes of the previous night. Her boyfriend is equivalent to that
fading shadow at dawn. She forgets about him at parties because
she is busy mingling with everybody, talking to everyone. Accepting
drinks from anyone. She knows the names of all the night club owners,
bar waiters and information on all events.
She’s the passive, pseudo event planner attending every function.
Miss busy body rubbing on to every male guest, giggling with every
female. She kind of knows everyone, or not.
Miss socialite with a party mental PHD.
The average corporate woman by day, socialite party girl by night.
Always ready to party, partying every day.