905 in the 416

Hi- how was your weekends readers?

Mine was.... good... felt really long which is always nice right?

Ok, so I think I must separate the topics I wish to address into 2 posts- but read both. ok?
Seriously, I am going to google stat you to make sure you read both- or do you think 1 is more boring than the other?

You think I am boring!!!???? No you don't.

Anyways,
So I guess we will go chronologically and begin with my Friday at that new (ish) bowling place at John and Richmond.

Dear patrons of the nightclubs and bars in "Clubland",
Ew.
Ew,ew,ew.
Oh, hey dudes- Jersey Shore is calling, wants the reeking smell of CKOne and the hair gel back.
Does nothing change?
It has been a long time since I set foot near Clubland- in fact, so long that I think the last time I was there, Fez Batik was a club and not a homeless shelter.
Did I date myself just now?

Anyways, once upon a time when I used a fake ID with a girl's name that I could not even pronounce, I used to LURVE clubbing. In my mind, along with being a Grammy calibre singer, I am a front backup dancer to JLO. That good. (In reality I think I usually look constipated- I always fucking look constipated when I try to look sexy- so know, if I look like I am shitting bricks, I am just trying to impress you?).

What I remember most- and I seem to remember a lot which is indicative of a night drinking peach schnapps- not quite the drunk level of vodka shots are they?- so I remember the guys at clubs. They all felt moist, they all had bad hair and gel dripping on their sideburns, they all stunk like cheap hooker men and they all wore those awful pumas. They would slink through the dance floor finding that opportune moment to grab at your behind and sort of thrust themselves into you. You were left with the option to either play along and pray they didn't get a boner on your back OR pretend to be in an exclusive relationship with one of the girls you came in.

Either way, shit hasn't changed much- same dudes, different year. Sorry ladies.

But the Ladies- you are just as bad come to think of it.
Dear girls,
I can see your vaginas.
No, seriously, I can see your vaginas.
Girls, some of you are cute, no need to show your whole sundae to these dudes. Ever heard the expression less is more? It is not just something your mom says. Ever heard the one about the cow and the milk? That one holds true too.
What more than a boner in the back can you possibly expect when you wear shoes you can't walk in and a skirt that is too short for a prostitute?

Just saying.

Either way, Clubland= gross. Between the odor of barf, the cheap cigarettes and the underages lingering in parking lots drinking out of plastic bottles, I could never go there agin and be contented.

Getting old, makes shit so much less glam.