The party was held in a two-story house located off a stale-beer-and-cig-butt-stinking alley in Venice Beach, California. With two-buck chuck in hand, my best friend Sean and I followed the sound of Eurotrash electronica coming from a cramped, darkly lit attic reeking of cigarette and marijuana smoke. Several small, exclusive groups of snobbish hipsters gave us the once-over.
"Which one is Asia Argento?" Sean asked.
"Ouch! You fuck-eeng cunt! I kill you!" We turned to see a furious brunette in a red dress striking one of her minions.
"That's her," I said, pointing to Asia who, by this point, was disappearing into the bathroom with her victim.
"I luf you, you fuck-eeng beech!"
Sean and I were forced to make a decision. Should we attempt to mingle with Asia's cartoonishly garbed, hanger-on friends? Or, should we get as hammered as humanly possible while rummaging through Asia's stuff? We chose the latter. However, our snooping was interrupted when one of Asia's Pottery Barn wine glasses leapt off the coffee table in a lemming-esque maneuver and committed suicide. Without warning, the scarlet-swathed spitfire burst from the bathroom in a fury. "Deed I hear a break-eeng glass?!" she demanded. "Who broke my glass?! Who broke eet?!"
Ten to 15 of Asia's groupies rushed in, trampling each other to take responsibility for the broken glass, hoping perhaps that she would grind the razor-sharp shards into their palms—forever scarring them with the dark, brooding anger that fueled such masterpieces as Scarlet Diva and XXX.
Nearby, someone began playing a theremin and Asia's scorn faded. "I must play thee there-meen!!" she declared, seizing the instrument from her properly baffled party guest. "Its squealing melodic frequencies quell the angry voices in my head!"
"Wow, she's intense," Sean surmised as he stuffed Asia's Gucci sunglasses case down the front of his pants.
I was overcome with nausea. "I think I have to puke."
Sean was concerned. "Let's find you a bathroom," he mewed nurturingly, shoving Asia's corkscrew and several fridge magnets into my pockets. "I'm so glad you wore cargo pants!"
I spent the next 10 minutes spewing up at least three gallons of bargain-basement wine. I suddenly became aware of a fresher, more floral scent overpowering the stench of my vomit. Sean was systematically dumping every perfume, shampoo, and vaginal moisturizer into the bathtub.
"What are you doing?!" I gasped between heaves.
"I'm bored!" he giggled, feverishly clasping his hands.
Satisfied that I had nothing left to regurgitate, I cleaned myself up and grabbed a beer.
We found Asia in the kitchen, sloppily pouring wine into a skull-shaped chalice. "Are you guys leaving?!" she asked a little too enthusiastically.
"Yes," I assured her. "But can we get a picture first?"
Asia snapped into professional mode. "Of course," she intoned calmly, ushering us toward the bathroom, "We will take peek-tures in here, yes?!"
We didn't answer fast enough.
"YES?!" she roared.
Sean screamed like a woman, accidentally dropping the DVD box set of WKRP in Cincinnati that he was smuggling out of the house.
We hastened into the bathroom where Asia slammed the door behind us. Sam eagerly pocketed handfuls of prescription drugs while Asia aggressively swabbed her face with a foundation sponge. "Valtrex!" Sean stage whispered, poking me in the ribs. "This is for social diseases!"
"What are you doing?!" Asia bellowed, spinning around and snatching the bottle from Sean's hand. "Theece is my herpes medication! Are you snooping through my theengs, is that what you are fuck-eeng doing?!"
"I found this on the ground," Sean maintained. "I think maybe there was an earthquake earlier."
Asia nodded, convinced. "Okay," she said, "I just want you to know: I have thee mouth sores. This isn't for the vagina. Now take my fuck-eeng peek-ture!!"
The final flash hadn't faded off our retinas before we were shoved from the room. "Okay, eez so nice that you came to my party," Asia sang, surveying the Hollywood dumpster set behind us, "But I haf to get back to my other guests!"
On the way out, I found Sean clearing a TV off Asia's surprisingly sub-IKEA entertainment center. "I've been looking for one of these!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Help me get it in the car." We each grabbed an end and carried it out, passing several of Asia's oblivious, drug-addled bootlickers and parasites.
Asia threw open the second-floor window, "Take eet!" she screamed. "Take all of eet! I'm leaving this LA swamp and going back to Italia and I don't need that sheet! Possessions are fleeting!"
With that, she slammed the window shut. The next morning, she left for Rome.