The plant deserved it.

It would appear as if last night was another one of those nights that has a need to be memorialized in blog post form.

First for the fact that I was actually invited to a party. Not a friend-of-a-friend type thing - someone directly invited me to a party. Yeah, I'm moving up in the world.

It was a highlighter party (the premise, for those who may not be aware, is that you draw on stuff with highlighters under blacklights), which was pretty awesome because I hate direct light and I pretty much wandered around in a white t-shirt, jeans, and Chucks - low maintenance FTW!

But, while being pretty cool, that's not what made the night awesomely memorable. It begins, as do a lot of random events in my life, with a text message.

Namely, "We are thinking of setting a house plant on fire. You want us to wait for you guys?"

I was taken a little aback by the statement, as I had merely texted to say that we'd be taking a later bus. I said that I didn't care, as we'd be arriving a little late.

So we arrive on said late bus (we being myself and the most venerable Miss Scarlett, who appears to be my partner in crime of late), and we began to make ourselves comfortable amidst the music and theme lighting. I eventually made my way over to the host that I knew and, after a few minutes of conversation, asked him what was up with this whole plant thing.

"THE PLANT!" he yelled, very excited. "Do you guys want to watch it burn?"

"YES!" Scarlett exclaimed ferociously, surprising me, considering she was the sober buddy of the night.

"I'll be back," he said, weaving through a crowd of people and disappearing. Scarlett and I looked at each other, shrugged, and grinned, which is slowly becoming our reaction to anything that is abnormal.

Which, actually, is a lot of stuff that occurs around us. What happens when the abnormal becomes normal? Does the world implode?

The host soon re-emerged, large potted plant and grill lighter in hand. A small crowd of people followed him out into the backyard, where he placed it in a fire pit and began dousing it with lighter fluid.

(Now that I think about it, how many houses have a fire pit ready to go in their backyard? Something tells me that this was not the first thing to burn this year...)

"You guys might not want to breathe the smoke in," the designated driver disdainfully said, as the host lit the plant on fire.

And the plant burned, what can I say? Along with additional spurts of lighter fluid and the first few bars of "Disco Inferno" being sung, the plant and accompanying basket soon changed into mere embers.

After it was done, I voiced the question that lingered in my mind. "But... what did the plant do to deserve this fate?"

"It was fake!" The host replied emphatically. "It wasn't real! It was... an impostor!"

So while the rest of the party was pretty cool, it is the weeding out of the artificial house plant that is now forever seared into my brain, and that elevates the entire night to epicness.