Won’t Catch Me at The Club
I hate clubs and any place that refers to itself as a lounge. The word lounge carries implications of oversized sweatshirts, Harry Potter weekend, and not wearing a bra. Instead you end up at a place where students pass out test strips to make sure your $16 rum and diet coke isn’t roofied.
I hate the wordless music that already sounds like the ringing in your ears from leaving a concert. It literally sounds like an MRI. The songs that do have words are always mashed-up so you hear three songs at once. Although that keeps chicks from yelling “this is my song!” they all seem to know how to dance to the unpredictable noise, leaving me rocking back and forth wishing I brought my Margarita scented hand sanny to chung. (That’s actually a real thing at Bath & Body Works)
There is no pub menu. I should actually be thankful for that because I would drain my bank account ordering $25 mozerrela sticks and daring myself to do shots of ranch dressing. Which is a thing that I do when I have been drinking.
Why do all the men have strange foreign accents that have no understood point of origin? Trust me I know my fucking accents, I used to watch a shit ton of those weird PBS mini series. What part of people’s brains are like, yes paying a $20 cover to sit in the corner of a basement and have my ears fucked by a 15-year-old with trendy facial hair, probably using an app on his iPhone to DJ, sounds like a really good time to me. My money’s on the same part that tells guys a blazer with jeans looks good. Bottle service is a sausage fest that attracks girls with fake eyelashes. So please, with all sincerity, keep leaning back in your semen covered u-shaped booth. For the record dress codes don’t keep ugly people out.
PS sparklers scare the shit out of me, you know the ones that shoot out of bottles carried around by girls with long brown hair that all look the same. I stepped on the end of a sparkler one once when I was little and the 4th of the July hasn’t been the same since.
A plus side to clubs I have found is they have very nice bathrooms. An immediate downside is it’s the only place with consistent lighting, so it’s packed with girls taking pictures of their outfits in the mirror.
I prefer bars that have many leather-bound books and my apartment smells of rich mahogany. (Who has red hair, two thumbs and is super jazzed about Anchorman 2? This bitch. *points at self*) Kidding about the books, although I am probably the only drunk girl that would steal books. In all actuality I am a more of a conversationalist. I like my beer in a bottle, not a frosted glass.
Let me restate my original title about hating clubs. I actually hate drinking in groups of people in a public setting, and by group I mean anyone in addition to myself. I also hate duct taping my nipples for mesh dresses, attempting the infamous Pintrest smokey eye, and the side-boob-graze guys think is subtle, when you push past them to get a drink.
It’s beginning to sound like I have a people problem and not just an alcohol / social interaction disorder. I’ll drink to that.