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July 31, 2009


What happerns when you go to scenester bar with hardcore wannabe scenester friends?

All I was told was that I was going to a bar. Never again will I go somewhere new without googling it first. As I walk in this bar/club/emo factory, I realize A.) Last call is exactly 56 minutes away B.) I must drink accordingly, seeing as I have unfortunately arrived sober, there is no time to waste dickin around with beer. I walk up to the bar and order a double vodka tonic  from a guy who I can only imagine is a failed Fall Out Boy groupie who's shirt is so small I can see his fiery red pube trail. While waiting desperately for my saving grace in a cup I catch just enough of a convo to double my drink order, trendy scene chick "Yea I just really appreciate my place in the biz right now. I'm so fortunate to have be surrounded by music that speaks to my soul." (shot count +1).

Walking away from the bar I am approached by a boy in pants he appeared to have purchased from the childrens section of darkside clothing. "hey" he says in dark undertone As I giggle to  myself I quickly realize he's serious. Baby pants here is actually hitting on me. Now in real life I would simply walk away or tell him I'm 17 and I only got in because I'm banging the bouncer, but I don't want a fucking hex put on me, so I have to be gracious." Look you're really cute but I'm pregnant and my boyfriend is waiting outside for me, so I'm sorry". See gracious, ever gracious bull shit.(shot count +2) Back to the bar it is. En Fuego, as I've lovelingly nicknamed the bartender, comes back and, though seemingly concerned, replenishes my drink order of double vodka tonic and, you guessed it, Jager.

I head up stairs to the dark and ominous "dance" area to look for my friends. As I walk past the boothes full of cool, I smell something, a stench I recognize, but from where? It's like remember when you're little and your parents would take you to McDonalds, and yea you were excited for that happy meal and teenie beanie baby, but all you really wanted to do was go play in the fucking jungle gym? Remember that jungle gym smell, especially at the old school McDonalds that had the outside playplace. Sweaty, Steamy, B.O.  Holy shit kids, scenesters AND hippies. (shot count +3)

Following yet another rousing bar run, I gotta piss. I settle on my porcelain throne and hear this conversation between a girl and someone I can only pray is a liscensed cosmotologist: "I have no idea what to do with my hair, tell me something to do with it! Nothing too girlie though, cause ya know I'm emo." response "Hair is stupid. Flaten it and stop being such a pussy prep…god".(shot count +4&5)

Yea I gotta get the hell outta here.