bebe's kids
7 o'clock in the morning and I am just getting in. (Note: I have no clue how to reset my update time on this blog. Any takers?) It was a myriad of experiencing new things tonight, which is always fulfilling. I actually took a night off at the bar so I could study. Life of a rockstar I tell ya. I still ended up at the bar as I had to take some supplies and the other manager is only in charge of....hell, I don't even know what he's in charge of. Anyhow, having a barback who is a philosophy major is proving quite helpful. An hour alone in the dry storage and I came out a confident woman. Concerning philosophy that is. Then I was off to Denny's. I'd heard of these "study sessions" before but had never actually taken the time to partake. So, by 2:00 I felt like a philosophy wizard. (And yes, Mental, I am going to draw unicorns for the test on Tuesday. If Vissintainer hates language so much, I don't see why I need to define variables with boring ol' letters.) But this studying thing, I see why the kids like it so much.
So, at 2 as I leave Denny's I decide that since I am still wide awake, I'll go grab a bottle I had left at the bar and hit Dulce's bday party at the hot new after hours place.
Somewhere along the highway I found a wormhole that was able to transport me to 1997 Miami. Blog, blog, blog......or blah, blah, blah for the My Space users. First, the parking lot is jammed full of drunk guys in big expensive cars with big expensive stereos booming. I'm sure you can guess the mood when there's 100 cars and 75 parking spaces. Lovely. Good stuff: hearing T.I. blaring on good systems. Bad thing: Having drunk guys think they are T.I. and wanting to "Whatcha Know About That" my ass right out of a parking space. I kid you not, it was parking guerilla warfare style.
So as I walk across the lot, texting Ram like crazy to see if he can save me from this bastard of a line, it happens. A loud pop and the shattering of this precious after hours haven front window. Now mind you, I have bets placed on how long this place will stay open. 300 drunk people consuming a parking lot in a mini mall at 3am, being forced to fight for parking and a place in line, sure no problems will arise there. Anyways, I'm thinking gunshot, the clubgoers inside from Ram's account are thinking gunshot, so I breeze over to the sidewalk where the pillars are just because nothing can kill a good night out like a stray bullet. However, as mister angry pants comes running through the parking lot and I get to the entrance, a new story unfolds. One of those line separaters is laying on the ground and he had taken the base and drilled it through the front window. Hey, some people are not cool with having to wait. He made his point. I however decided to go with a more mild approach and take a spot in line. (I didn't even pull a name dropping card. Hey, I'd been studying all night and was unshowered, unmake-uped, and only had heels on because I carry a pair in the car for emergency purposes.--Which by the way, I just realized I have no jumper cables, but I have emergency heels. That's awesome.) So thus begins my wait at the golden gates.
First of all, Ram rocks. He actually left the party to come wait with me. And anyone who knows Ram, knows he IS the party, so I don't mind waiting if he's there to crack jokes with. However, this Versace cowboy decides to ride up in front of us, and at this point, line cutters are pissing me off, so I challenge him and say, "hey, get behind us dude." This is when he gives the best answer ever and says, "Sorry, it's not like I was trying to cut in front of you." And then he gives me this eyeroll like I'm am idiot. "Of course not. You just walked up and stood in front of us to get in first. That's totally different". See--even I'm getting line tense we all know I'm sweet as a peach. : ) Kisses.
When it's finally our turn, I know what to expect. And the club is beautiful. Sheer white curtains and chrome. Black and white leather. Old school house. Giant projection screens showing showing tasteful artsy videos. It is!! I have officially found Miami and Orlando from almost ten years ago. The music is even the same. I have now paid ten bucks to go back in time. ($5 if you're their friend on My Space. Insert your own jokes here.) No one is dancing though. (except for Patty, and she is dancing enough for everyone. That was awesome. She broke a lamp dancing on a table. I love her.) No one else is even breaking a sweat. They are immune, because it is roughly 110 degrees in there. I felt like I was rolling just from what I can only deem as the onset of heatstroke.
But, it is FABULOUS. All the pretty people. $250,000 of silicone in one place and apparently, there is a uniform. Ram and I notice blazer shorts and white peek-a-boo blazers are the it thing to which he goes, "Oh my God, bebe is totally on the phone trying to order more clothes. They have been stripped bare in honor of this club." It was pretentious. It was rude. It was boring. This place needs to sell X with their bottle set up(which is $40 for ice, a bucket, limes, and cups. What's the inflation rate there?) because I will sum it up in one sentence. "I feel like I paid to go to the bebe zoo." Loosen up people. And can I just say that excluding a couple of basketball players, I had a good five inches on everyone there? It was weird. I felt like I was too tall to ride this ride.
So, Ram gets dogged for a ride home due to a progressing hookup, and lets me know, "this is why I don't come to Whiteville. I just get stranded here." I decide that I'll take him home though. We've made fun of everyone we can, it's 5am, let's go. He is so pissed at his ride though that as we walk to my car, he lets me know, "I'm gonna text that bitch so hard." I love it. Five years ago in moment of anger, who would have thought that was going to lead them to some "hard texting"?
Now what is the point of this entirely too long description of club fluff? All I can say is Ram and I had more fun on the drive home and at the gas staion than with the "IN" crowd. It was comforting to get back downtown to crackheads and the crazy old man in the elevator. I am not cool, nor do I want to be at this point. The cool kids need to all keep together there and we'll stick to our "everybody's welcome" bar. Man, I love my bar.
Note: this was written Sunday morning, but go figure, I was tired.
So, at 2 as I leave Denny's I decide that since I am still wide awake, I'll go grab a bottle I had left at the bar and hit Dulce's bday party at the hot new after hours place.
Somewhere along the highway I found a wormhole that was able to transport me to 1997 Miami. Blog, blog, blog......or blah, blah, blah for the My Space users. First, the parking lot is jammed full of drunk guys in big expensive cars with big expensive stereos booming. I'm sure you can guess the mood when there's 100 cars and 75 parking spaces. Lovely. Good stuff: hearing T.I. blaring on good systems. Bad thing: Having drunk guys think they are T.I. and wanting to "Whatcha Know About That" my ass right out of a parking space. I kid you not, it was parking guerilla warfare style.
So as I walk across the lot, texting Ram like crazy to see if he can save me from this bastard of a line, it happens. A loud pop and the shattering of this precious after hours haven front window. Now mind you, I have bets placed on how long this place will stay open. 300 drunk people consuming a parking lot in a mini mall at 3am, being forced to fight for parking and a place in line, sure no problems will arise there. Anyways, I'm thinking gunshot, the clubgoers inside from Ram's account are thinking gunshot, so I breeze over to the sidewalk where the pillars are just because nothing can kill a good night out like a stray bullet. However, as mister angry pants comes running through the parking lot and I get to the entrance, a new story unfolds. One of those line separaters is laying on the ground and he had taken the base and drilled it through the front window. Hey, some people are not cool with having to wait. He made his point. I however decided to go with a more mild approach and take a spot in line. (I didn't even pull a name dropping card. Hey, I'd been studying all night and was unshowered, unmake-uped, and only had heels on because I carry a pair in the car for emergency purposes.--Which by the way, I just realized I have no jumper cables, but I have emergency heels. That's awesome.) So thus begins my wait at the golden gates.
First of all, Ram rocks. He actually left the party to come wait with me. And anyone who knows Ram, knows he IS the party, so I don't mind waiting if he's there to crack jokes with. However, this Versace cowboy decides to ride up in front of us, and at this point, line cutters are pissing me off, so I challenge him and say, "hey, get behind us dude." This is when he gives the best answer ever and says, "Sorry, it's not like I was trying to cut in front of you." And then he gives me this eyeroll like I'm am idiot. "Of course not. You just walked up and stood in front of us to get in first. That's totally different". See--even I'm getting line tense we all know I'm sweet as a peach. : ) Kisses.
When it's finally our turn, I know what to expect. And the club is beautiful. Sheer white curtains and chrome. Black and white leather. Old school house. Giant projection screens showing showing tasteful artsy videos. It is!! I have officially found Miami and Orlando from almost ten years ago. The music is even the same. I have now paid ten bucks to go back in time. ($5 if you're their friend on My Space. Insert your own jokes here.) No one is dancing though. (except for Patty, and she is dancing enough for everyone. That was awesome. She broke a lamp dancing on a table. I love her.) No one else is even breaking a sweat. They are immune, because it is roughly 110 degrees in there. I felt like I was rolling just from what I can only deem as the onset of heatstroke.
But, it is FABULOUS. All the pretty people. $250,000 of silicone in one place and apparently, there is a uniform. Ram and I notice blazer shorts and white peek-a-boo blazers are the it thing to which he goes, "Oh my God, bebe is totally on the phone trying to order more clothes. They have been stripped bare in honor of this club." It was pretentious. It was rude. It was boring. This place needs to sell X with their bottle set up(which is $40 for ice, a bucket, limes, and cups. What's the inflation rate there?) because I will sum it up in one sentence. "I feel like I paid to go to the bebe zoo." Loosen up people. And can I just say that excluding a couple of basketball players, I had a good five inches on everyone there? It was weird. I felt like I was too tall to ride this ride.
So, Ram gets dogged for a ride home due to a progressing hookup, and lets me know, "this is why I don't come to Whiteville. I just get stranded here." I decide that I'll take him home though. We've made fun of everyone we can, it's 5am, let's go. He is so pissed at his ride though that as we walk to my car, he lets me know, "I'm gonna text that bitch so hard." I love it. Five years ago in moment of anger, who would have thought that was going to lead them to some "hard texting"?
Now what is the point of this entirely too long description of club fluff? All I can say is Ram and I had more fun on the drive home and at the gas staion than with the "IN" crowd. It was comforting to get back downtown to crackheads and the crazy old man in the elevator. I am not cool, nor do I want to be at this point. The cool kids need to all keep together there and we'll stick to our "everybody's welcome" bar. Man, I love my bar.
Note: this was written Sunday morning, but go figure, I was tired.
posted by Dejenerate @ 7:00 AM
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