Excerpts from a house party

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A crypto bro who looks normal and is actually pretty normal aside from the unfortunate addiction to non-fiat currencies.
He is giving what is essentially a monologue on a new crypto that is mined in a limited way and can actually be exchanged as a physical paper token with denominations of 1,5, 10, 100... wait a minute.
The harried host, who is secretly enjoying the torment in the most schaudenfraude fashion, feels needed and a little less lonely than most nights. She keeps looking furtively at her crush, who made it to the party. He is deep in conversation with her best friend's roommate. Guess who is not getting invited to the next party, Brenda?
The host's best friend is in a corner opposite the crypto bro, ostensibly serving the guests alcohol but getting steadily drunk herself. She starts taking her jacket off and then settles into a slow, rhythmic dance.
The host's roommate glances nervously at the drunk woman dancing alone. She is trying to clean the apartment and hide their valuables. Her multitasking skills are being put to use as she simultaneously collects a used paper cup and ducks as the crypto bro is trying to make conversation. She just wants to go back to her room.
The self-invited life-of-the-party dude who has brought another two friends because there was nothing left in their fridge. They make random woooos and slowly eat through the host's party supplies.

The introvert who had decided to come in one brief moment of courage or stupidity is now frantically trying to set up a session with their therapist. They also want to escape to the roommate's bed, which could get awkward.
The corporate bro, who walks in very late, tries to convince himself that this party will distract him from the mundane slow-burn that is life. He looks at the crypto bro with disdain and starts talking about stocks in the diagonally opposite corner from the crypto bro.
The host's two college-going relatives are making reels while ignoring the real world. They were also not invited, but after furious conversations in the family chat, their moms steamrolled the host's mom, so they came decked out like models. Their only purpose was to develop CONTENT, CONTENT, and CONTENT.
The fillers are the people invited last minute because the host panicked that not enough people would come to the party and it would be sad. These people are waiting for a party like a thirsty crow waiting for pebbles.
A special guest appearance by the next-door neighbor—who opens the door without knocking or ringing the bell—is firstly angry because they were not invited, and secondly because the party is noisier than their kids. Nobody pays attention to them. They pick up the good cheese from the cheese platter and walk away.
The downstairs neighbour comes to complain about the stomping, even though they did not hear a thing because they were gaming and wearing expensive headphones. They could have continued to do so, but somehow it seemed more neighbourly to complain and also nick a couple of beers.

There you have it, an ideal house party. What kind of guest are you?