I know that most of my friends, who have previously taken me to clubs, will read this blog. So I wanted to clarify that writing this particular entry did not mean I had a completely terrible time when I was with them. I will always enjoy their company regardless of the locale, but sometimes, we don’t stick together when we’re there, we’re out, separated, interacting with strangers. But when I’m alone, I tend to sit back in the corner and observe, and the picture is different. I’d like to describe that picture.
Last time, I talked about the lackluster of generic hot people. Today, I’m going to talk about their mothership:
Clubs.
Clubs are like concerts but without the performers, and if there are no performers, it’s gotta be one fucking shitty concert. It’s always packed; everyone’s hot and sweaty and bunched up together, grinding and groping all over the gotdamn dance floor like an enormous orgy rave.
One of the reasons why hot people love going to clubs is because it’s one of the few places where they’re not required to talk, and we all know that most hot people are incapable of carrying a lively conversation. It’s practically impossible to communicate verbally and coherently without screaming in each other’s ears because the music is blasted to the max.
Concerts are also loud, but the difference is, you’re here to watch a show, there’s no need to talk. But with clubs, there’s no main attraction, all you can do is shut up and dance, dance, dance! Fuck that. It’s not even dancing either, the dance floor tends to get retardedly packed that all you can do is either dry hump your dancing partner or rock back and forth and pray that some drunkard bitch doesn’t dig her stiletto into your foot—which hurts really bad btw (I lied when I said it only hurt a little when people asked. I guess I wanted to be tough 
). Clubbing is a health hazard. I think I’d be better off if someone threw me into a hardXcore mosh pitt with that psychotic Moshzilla moshing beast.
Not only are we inept to communicate verbally but we can’t even communicate nonverbally for fucks sake. Clubs are dark and laden with fog (machines), and disco lights and strobe lights sporadically flicking on and off, swerving, swooshing, swaying all in your face (how rude). Everyone looks like they’re doing the robot, but they’re not. You can forget about mouthing your buddy to ask whether they’re ready to call it a night or not, or making awkward hand gestures to them just to see if they wanted a drink, because you can’t see shit.
Ever wonder why chicks complain about the guys they encounter at clubs? It’s because it’s the place to get drunk and hookup. Guess what? Guys usually aren’t there just to “hang out”, they want to score some pussy, and any broad that walks into a club, automatically has a billboard on top of her head that says, “I’M FREE. PLEASE BE THE HORNDOG THAT YOU ARE AND DRY HUMP YOUR WAY TOWARDS MY CLIT.”
Without having your friends, clubs aren’t that entertaining. Without having your cockblocking friends, it can get very creepy. And friends or no friends, it can get old pretty fast, if done frequently. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a hypocrite, because I sort of am. I’ve been to them before, in fact, I’ve been to one very recently, but the more I see the more I want to slit my wrists with a vegetable peeler.
Man, I sound like such an old fartin’ party pooper. I don’t think anyone is going to ever invite me to anything after reading this.
Kristy Joe, the most gorgeous out of the bunch IMO, probably had the worst and funniest makeover because they turned her into a fat middle aged woman! What’s even worst than looking at her lard ass was listening to her talk. The conversation was so basic and just plain dried that I even remembered the exact dialogue:
