I stopped being 16 a whole bunch of years ago, and I can only dimly recount the many, many horrifying and disappointing events that took place within the 12-month period. Preserved though, for all time, by the good folks at MTV, are the first days of the 16th years of kids whose parents have gigantic money bins, like the one Scrooge McDuck had.

You know you watch it. It’s on whenever “Laguna Beach” isn’t and somehow it’s even more irritating. It’s the one, and god willing, the only, “My Super Sweet 16.”

The extravagant, multi-million dollar mega parties seen on the program bear little resemblance to my own 16th ‘rager’ which consisted of me, a couple of other kids and a fat kid we sort of knew.

Where SUPER Sweet 16 parties generally feature no less than 36 solid gold statues of the birthday girl/boy and a performance by “Sugarcult,” “not entirely crappy” sweet 16 parties like mine, feature cake.

Not to say the kids who are on the show don’t deserve to be. One episode told a particularly heart-string-snapping tale of a former orphan newly adopted into a rich family. Humbled by vivid recollections of her impoverished childhood, she immediately has her best friend kicked out of the VIP lounge for not being mega-rich.

Though my 16th birthday party was not without its moments (i. e. after the fat kid we sort of knew passed out, we covered him in partially eaten food). I can’t say I would object to having another go at it. This time, with a budget of so much money, you could just set fire to $100,000 for kicks and spend twice that amount exclusively on Little Hugs brand juice barrels.

Much of the funds would of course be eaten up (not literally) by dinosaurs, or rather life-sized replicas of dinosaurs, with scientifically accurate glowing red eyes, on loan from Sandusky’s “Prehistoric Forest.”

An equally hefty chunk would be reserved to secure the evening’s entertainment, 80’s hair-metal favorite Whitesnake.

But let’s not lose sight of the fact that an integral element of the super sweet 16 experience is the alienation of those less absurdly rich and attractive.

My gathering would take this concept to a hard-to-believe extreme with the installation of Never-ending Story-esque twin sphinxes at the entrance. Those who I deem un-awesome would be instantly vaporized by the statues’ deadly eye lasers. This would be hard not to do to everyone.

As for those troublemakers who decide to become less awesome after passing the laser beams, Terry “Hulk” Hogan in full costume as “the Suburban Commando” would act as security.

A lot of the remaining cash would go to paying off celebrity guests Brendan Fraser, Mayor McCheese and the Lohanic one herself. She, of course, would do me.

In retrospect though, when I was 16, I probably would have used all the money to cover the fat kid I sort of knew with the most food ever.

Nick Moose is a junior school major and a pretty funny columnist for the Daily Kent Stater. Send him a nice e-mail at [email protected], and you might be invited to his party.