Walking into that party was like walking into a nightmare. The music, a weird mix of techno and gangsta rap, was so loud the only way to be heard was the most high-pitched of shrieks. Saying that the guests’ sweaty, young bodies writhed to the music would be overly flattering. They bounced, they vibrated, they bent over and moved their hips in an awkward, clumsy adolescent understanding of sexuality. Most of them wore weird leotards that were hardly covered their barely there chests. And there was Miley, screeching about her new “fuck Hannah Montana” haircut.

And the things they did seemed kind of “fucking hardcore” as they put it. At one point, they all jumped into the pool and started making out with plastic baby dolls. Just a whole pool full of people, fully clothed, licking doll faces. They seemed to think it was sexy. The girls would call the boys over, “Hey Cameron, watch this,” before licking the dolls’ entire bodies, which were dripping with pool water. (Just to clarify, that’s pool water shared by 30 drunk strangers, and I’d say there’s about a 95 percent chance that at least one person pissed in the water.)

To add to the nightmarish Kubric-inspired theme of the party, the people who weren’t swimming in piss were dressed up in mascot costumes. Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my God. They stumbled around, falling down as they attempted to bend over and shake their Pilates-and-coke-toned asses while wearing a giant lion head. One of them tripped, spilling her cranberry and vodka on my white dress. I would have been mad, but I’m pretty sure the high end vodka in the drink cost more than my Target bargain bin maxi dress.

Meanwhile, Miley was on the bed, grinding herself against the white comforter, moaning “Liam, Liam.” Liam, meanwhile, was slumped over in the chair in the corner, passed out from too much vodka, nowhere near her thrusting hips. When she wasn’t moaning for Liam, she would break out singing “We Can’t Stop,” even though it wasn’t playing and hadn’t even been released as a single yet.

And the drugs! Not to resurrect the musings of my eighth grade health teacher, Ms. Howell, but crack is whack. Not that they had crack, they were much more upscale than that. After being forced to pee in front of a bunch of girls doing lines in the bathroom, I tried to engage a bearded man about the atrocities of the drug trade and how all drug use supported that scary business. His uncanny ability to grow facial hair, made me think he must be at least a few years older than the rest of the party. I felt like we were the only adults there, chaperoning a high school rager thrown by a millionaire celebrity with access to any drug her heart desired and with no fear of public shaming. It’s like Miley never saw Lindsay Lohan’s mug shot!  But he just told me to “chill out, bitch,” before popping some E and joining a bunch of giggling kids dry-humping the couch.

At one point, a girl approached me, her leotard askew.

“You look older. This is how grown-ups party, right? Like this isn’t kid shit, you know?” she asked timidly.

All I could muster was an “Oh, honey, no. Not at all,” before she whispered a “fuck you” and jumped in the pool, splashing me.

I kept trying to leave, but a security guard blocked the door to make sure no one left until the sun came up. I was I couldn’t leave until to leave until I had “properly raged.” Every time I got to the door with a new story about my raging, I was turned back. Nothing convinced him. I pretended to have made out with a doll while doing a handstand, I said I hooked up with a guy in a giant bear costume, I even pretended to have dressed up as a goat, done the entire Thriller dance, initiated a synchronized swimming competition, and then led a twerking competition, but he didn’t seem to believe me. Maybe it was the edge of sobriety in my voice.

Around 4am they started to get cranky, like a bunch of toddlers kept up past bed time. There was crying and screaming and then, inevitably, someone would yell out “No drama!” which would pause everything for about five minutes. Finally, with the sun rising over the pool, they all collapsed into a giant sweaty heap and licked each other until they all fell asleep, mumbling about being “so fucking hardcore.” The guard at the door finally let me go, and I drove home thankful to have made it out in one piece.

Since this ordeal, I’ve spent every Friday night in, listening to classical music, enjoying a cup of hot tea and a nice book. My friends bargain with me for hours before they can even get me out to dinner on a Wednesday. Every time “We Can’t Stop” comes on the radio I have terrible flashbacks of dolls and pills and bear costumes. It’s worse than the time I accidentally watched The Shining at age seven. I will never forget that awful night, up in Beverly Hills, watching 19-year-olds redefine cool as the one who makes out with the most dolls.

February 1993-She smiles a lot and is nicknamed Smiley, later shortened to Miley. But behind that devilish grin lies an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude that will one day characterize her whole outlook on life.

March 1993-He’s enjoying an idyllic childhood with two older brothers and really, just great, amazing, supportive parents. They’re just so great, you guys!

2001-She watches her dad filming the TV show Doc and is like, fuck it, I can do that. A star is born.

March 24^th, 2006-Hannah fucking Montana premieres. You’re welcome, world.

2006-Inspired by his awesome older brothers, he decides to start auditioning for roles. It’s time to show the world the Hemsworth Triple Threat: Luke, Chris and Liam!

December 2007-She tweets a photo where she’s eating a delicious stick of licorice with a female friend, their mouths inching toward each other, but she’s definitely not a lesbian. She just doesn’t give a fuck about the implications of licorice sharing.

Late 2008-She’s like, hey, Nicholas Sparks, write me a movie to star in! He does and The Last Song is born.

June 2009-They start filming The Last Song together. He’s captivated by her beauty and overall awesomeness. She’s like, hey, he’s bangable. It’s true love.

August 9^th, 2009-She pole dances at the Teen Choice Awards. Creepy old men around the world rejoice.

August 10^th, 2009-He’s wondering why there are suddenly so many countdowns to his girlfriend’s 18^th birthday on the internet. And then–hey!–he figures it out. Not cool, guys.

August 20^th, 2009-Her badass American anthem, “Party in the USA,” debuts at #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 Chart.

August 2009-She also launches her clothing line with Max Azria for Walmart, her favorite down-home country store. Fuck designer labels, man, and come buy her shit for under $20.

September 14^th, 2009-She begins her World Wonder Tour to introduce the new Miley badass sound to the world.

December 7^th, 2009-She performs for the Queen and other members of the British Royal Family. No big deal, because she doesn’t give a fuck.

Late 2009-He’s doing big, important stuff, too, guys! Like…having sex with Miley! Hell yeah.

January 2010-She begins filming the last season of Hannah Montana. Thank fucking God. She is so sick of all the glitter. So much fucking glitter.

March 2010-She has a glaring moment of clarity. She may be totally fucking apathetic and like whatever, but this Liam guy, he’s her first serious boyfriend. Nick Jonas has nothing on Liam.

Summer 2010-She stars in two more feature films, learning some kickass street fighting along the way.

November 2010-He’s also doing stuff, you guys! He went to Victoria Derby Day with his mom. Did I mention how awesome his parents are?

November 2010-Also, they broke up. But only briefly because their love is too strong.

December 2010-She starts sexting him again. True love.

February 2011-He goes apeshit on some bouncers at an L.A. nightclub. They shouldn’t have talked about his mom that way. Not cool.

April 2011-He gets cast as the male lead in The Hunger Games. Megafame, here he comes!

April 2011-She is unable to convince him that Gale is not actually the lead in The Hunger Games, so she just lets him have his delusions of grandeur instead.

April 29^th, 2011-She starts another world tour, the Gypsy Heart Tour. So named because she’s a badass, world touring gypsy.

May 2011-He joins her on tour. Love continues to blossom.

June 2011-They’re officially back in love, guys! To follow: months of bliss.

November 2011-Her friends honor her total stoner status with a Bob Marley cake at her 19^th birthday party.

February 2012-After months of bliss, more bliss is to come. Also, did they have sex under the table at the Vanity Fair Oscar party? It’s definitely a possibility…

April 2012-He was featured on a poster for The Expendables 2! By himself with a sweet gun and a hot body suit!

June 6^th, 2012-The proposal. The two are at home, surrounded by their furry friends. She’s laying naked, ladylike, knees splayed on their king sized bed. He excuses himself to use the bathroom and comes back with a silver tray, covered in rose petals and bearing a ring box and a framed picture of the two in a popular tabloid. He trips, dropping the tray and breaking the picture frame but recovers, landing on one knee and looking her deep in her uncovered bosom as he asks for her hand in marriage. It’s magical.

The two will wed on a day and at a location to be disclosed as follows: several false dates and locations will be leaked to the press, along with the real day and venue. This is where you guys come in! Email us at liamisawesome69@hotmail.com with your guess which is the right day and venue. A week after the original leaks we’ll reveal the real date and location in an interview on E! News (we’ll make sure to look totally exasperated by all those strange tabloid claims about all the different locations!). And any one of you guys who guesses correctly gets a free bottle of champagne and one roll of film to take at the wedding and sell to the tabloids!