Middle school slumber parties were what made being thirteen bearable - nay, glorious. Sneaking in R-rated movies (such as Schindler's List, the least fun R-rated movie ever); mixing Cheerwine with real Manischewitz; playing truth or dare; trying to keep your friends from calling Jeremy P., the cute kid with the lazy eye in Health class . . . those were the days. Luckily, it's a simple matter to recapture the past . . .
Make sure you are not wearing pants during the preparation phase.
Be prepared to go the distance for the right supplies.
Put ocular protection safeguards in place.
Practice good spatial reasoning.
Pregame like a champ with cereal and/or salad and/or chips and/or roughage in a bowl.
Ride inside; continue to not wear pants.
Encourage others to embrace the freedom of movement that not-wearing-pants makes possible.
Gently tap your naked thigh while sipping from a tumbler. It is a magical siren call to other sleepover-lovers, like the Bat Signal above Gotham, or the twilight bark in 101 Dalmations.
Vogue. Vogue. Smurf Vogue.
Embrace luxury; embrace people. Quietly peer-pressure them into taking off their pants.
Invite the hot blondes from next door, then hope that you both wake up after a drunken night of love in the BMOC's convertible, in a church parking lot. Go on to star in a show about a psychic and grimace a lot.
Work out your aggression toward Miley.
Play twister. Show off. Say, "Twister? I barely know her!"
Reward pantslessness with caffeine, high-fructose corn syrup, liquor.
Mid-game with leftover ambiguous roughage.
If you are wearing pants, arrange your arms in a supplicant position and smile winsomely to escape censure.
Put the seduction techniques that your learned from Man-Cosmo into play.
Blow tiny bubbles.
Reminisce about Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette.
Talk to your friends. Really listen to them this time.
Undergo many wardrobe changes.
Invite an injured friend to cosset. Write things on her cast like, "Why are you wearing pants? Are you a barbarian? Take them off forthwith!"
Be wary of inviting the friend who can't actually handle Twister.
Dance. Dance. Daaaance. Make it clear that you are wearing short shorts over tights, although they looked like pants before. The supplicant position is no longer needed.