It's Andrew W.K.'s Birthday, Go Party

A love letter to Andrew W.K., plus some really weird fan fiction incorporating all of the song titles from 'I Get Wet'.

Andrew W.K., one of the greatest living Americans, turns 34 today. I say it without pretense or irony that Andrew Wilkes-Krier is one of my biggest inspirations as a human being trying to live their life with a sense of positivity. Unlike Lil B (another pretty heavy inspiration for me), W.K. lives life with an air of mystery that is thrown into weird relief by his relentless positivity and devotion to all things party.

I interviewed Andrew W.K. before a show in the spring of last year, and it was kinda-sorta a completely life-changing experience. We talked about pinball, and he used the concept of true love to describe the first time he met Soulja Boy. During the show proper, W.K. played a guitar shaped like a pizza, which was also great. For many, Andrew W.K. concerts are akin to religious experiences with a mosh pit, hundreds of people very aggressively asserting their happiness on each other, sometimes to a violent degree. Kids dress up like Andrew W.K., crowdsurf to the stage, and then stand goofily next to Andrew for a second, and then jump back in the crowd.

I Get Wet remains one of the greatest albums of the 2000s, just a gigantic brick wall of sound slamming you in the face for twelve songs straight. It's still pretty early in the morning, so instead of trying to intellectualize Andrew W.K., I wrote some fan fiction about him incorporating all of the song titles from I Get Wet:

It was dawn. Andrew W.K. woke up, greeting the sun with a wide-eyed smile that was the exact perfect amount of creepy. "IT'S TIME TO PARTY," he said, overlooking the city that he loved so much. "I LOVE NEW YORK CITY," he added to prove to himself how much he loved New York City. Andrew W.K. needed coffee, because last night he had PARTIED TIL HE PUKED and he had a hangover. He took off his white t-shirt and white pajama pants to put on an appropriately stained white t-shirt and white jeans. There was just the exact right amount of blood on his face. He felt alive. He was ready for anything.

At the Starbucks two blocks from Andrew W.K.'s apartment, Andrew W.K. saw a girl. "SHE IS BEAUTIFUL," he thought to himself. He wanted to PARTY HARD with her. Harder than he'd ever partied with anyone else before. She looked at him. Andrew W.K. could feel their energies aligning. GIRLS OWN LOVE, truly. She opened her mouth and said, "TAKE IT OFF."

Andrew W.K. knew what he had to do. He tried to remove his white t-shirt, only to find that he was wearing another white t-shirt under it. He took off that t-shirt, but he was wearing yet another still. He went to touch this mysterious siren, but when he touched her arm all he felt was moisture. "I GET WET!" Andrew W.K. exclaimed in surprise, feeling himself fall into a black hole.

On the other side of the wormhole was pure nothingness, a void which Andrew W.K. instinctively knew was inescapable. "I'm READY TO DIE," Andrew W.K. said, resigning himself to his fate. "But I've got to have one last FUN NIGHT. I've GOT TO DO IT." Despite the fact that Andrew W.K. was in a complete vacuum and would die any second, Andrew W.K. managed to party one last time. DON'T STOP LIVING IN THE RED, even when you are dead.

Drew Millard is a master of fan fiction. He's on Twitter - @drewmillard