This is exactly—exactly—why I never let strangers find out I’m having a party.
Obviously, unlike Paris Hilton’s parties, my parties don’t involve me leaving my six-million-dollar mansion unmanned while I snort champagne in another state or whatever, but the principle is the same. Word gets out about your party, things get weird.
For instance, I once thought it’d be smart to circumvent potential noise complaints by inviting all the neighbors over for my birthday. I barely knew them, but I figured they wouldn’t show up, and so what if they did—it was worth a few beers and some Chex Mix to keep them from calling the cops.