My girlfriend has never seen me really drunk. She knows that I do, but in the six months we’ve been dating, I’ve managed to get messed up only when she’s not around. In the spirit of “trust” and “openness,” I invited her to crash a party with me. She’s cool. She reads the column every month and knows what to expect. What could go wrong?

I’ll continue when you’re done laughing.

We walk to the Peruvian Jungle Bash, which (luckily?) is three blocks from her apartment. Our host Derrick is half-Peruvian, and this annual party honors his homeland. I give 200 points for a warm-weather party in the middle of winter. There were at least 60 people there by 10 p.m. and a solid ratio of gals to guys. Everyone wore jungle-inspired outfits—lots of animal print, camouflage, pith helmets. The nice thing is that it wasn’t a costume party, per se. People worked the stuffed monkeys and rubber snakes into their wardrobes naturally. I wish I had understood this before, because my girlfriend had painted whiskers on my face (minus 500 points).

Side note: If you’re an amateur party crasher, don’t arrive empty-handed. Bring a bottle of something and at least one woman, and your entrée into a stranger’s den is much easier. Props to my girlfriend for the assist (200 points).

Derrick is a master of detail. This party had a coat rack, jungle decorations, jungle-inspired music, cups with animal stickers on them, and you could play the video game Pitfall II. The featured drink was jungle juice, which I’ll get to in a moment. Before that, I should mention the beer pong table with a built-in ball cleanser. (Heh, heh—he said ‘ball cleanser’). Seriously, Derrick’s neighbor built what I can only assume is patented technology. You drop the dirty, nasty, beer-stained ping pong ball in a hole in the table, then it travels through a series of PVC pipes and comes out the other end clean (1,000 points).

As much as I love beer, my girl and I declined it in favor of Derrick’s homemade jungle juice (also known as Hunch Punch or Purple Jesus). This batch was everything that jungle juice should be. What I mean is that you could not taste the alcohol (1,000 points). In the span of one hour and a half, I poured us each a cup, then another, then another for myself, and then I finished the rest of her second cup. If you’ve never tried it, jungle juice is like discovering that your golf cart has a V12 under the hood. Before you know it, you’re on the Autobahn with no seatbelts.

I was about to go for another cup, when my girlfriend gently suggested that I not. Here’s where couples across America will debate whether the role she played was that of guardian angel or killjoy. When she suggested we leave (minus 1,000 points), I vowed (to myself) never to crash a party with her again. Then she kissed me, and I got it. The jungle juice she drank was having an “effect” (2,000 points). I can’t remember the last time I left a party before midnight but, you know, few things in life are more powerful than animal instinct. I got our coats.

On the way out, someone complimented my whiskers (500 points).

Tally: 1,000 + 3,400 (bonus) = 4,400 out of 5,000 = A