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I dropped by the Vice offices in Williamsburg Friday afternoon to grab wristbands for Mo and I to get in. Chris wasn't joking. The space was the literalization of everything about Vice's culture of yore even before anything was even placed inside. Two floors of flat, dark space, with concrete pillars, and yes, plenty of places to get fucked up, black out, and make questionable decisions in questionable costumes. The question then became: with the $250,000 they've bragged about spending on this thing, what, exactly, will they fill it with?

"99%, these are gonna guarantee you admission into the party," VBS.tv staffer Rory Ahearn warned me as he handed over two paper wristbands dotted with smiley faces. "But to be on the safe side, get there early." He wasn't joking. We approached the party to an entire block of Williamsburg quartered off by cops and barricades, and two lines: one that snaked around the block and then some, and the other—for the blessedly wristbanded—which ran the length of half a block. Rory was nice enough to get us in, past the complete insanity of the line and the line's security, who weren't being kind to anyone, including the Vice staff. This would later become a problem.

Once inside, Mo—dressed as Playboy's Marge Simpson—and I—dressed as the scariest creature of them all: a cracked-out blogger—cased the place. On the first floor, ravey techno music blared. They'd installed a halfpipe they—I don't know, staffed?—with some decent skateboarders on it. People weren't really watching. But they were watching Williamsburg's aspiring American Apparel models strip to their skivvies for the photo shoot Vice had set up for the party's attendees, who almost always dropped trou for the camera. Two

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http://gawker.com/5394676/how-vice-spent-250000-on-an-anniversary-party/gallery/?skyline=true&s=x

vs.

Titus Andronicus account:

http://titusandronicustheband.blogspot.com/2009/11/vice-halloween-party-is-decadent-and.html