ain't nothin' change hold down G's up: clubs are stupid.

After a big day on the lake, that followed a late night/early morning for me in Clifton (whole other story...), we managed to kill a few bottles of wine at my place while we cooked out and got ready to go drinking in the city. When females get together with wine, we all suddenly turn into winos, and its awesome. seriously. you don't know what you're missing.

We hit the Pavillion at Mt. Adams, where we proceeded to take shots. Tequila (my idea...not the best I've ever had), red headed sluts, petron, one after another. Rounds and rounds were consumed. I was already dehydrated. For whatever reason, I was also just in the mood to be a bitch. I'm pretty sure its the dance club atmosphere. I was fine when we were sitting outside, making fun of people, doing impressions, telling stories...it was when we entered a crowded room of double-douches that I became really bitchy.

First off, I hope I never ever meet a love interest in a dance club. I don't have the personality for it. Bars are way better for actual socialization if you're going out for that. Stupid clubs: you bounce around, (some people) try to look hot (?), can't hear anything and yell the entire time. It's stressful, really. The same drunk girl dug her 4 inch stripper heels into my foot several times, and I was about 5 seconds away from really going off. If we hadn't been swarmed by short guys (we're talking 5'6"ish...not even my height. they looked 16) then I would have been very unladylike in my confrontation with her.

If you really want to have fun at a dance club, just dance with other chicks (or rap to Lil Troy with Mikey in a room full of black people). Most men have no rhythm. They want to put their dirty hands on your body. Girls don't do this. In groups, we make up silly dances and laugh and have a far better time. However, when women do this, it only draws more d-bags near. When this happens, I have identified a number of escape routes to take:

The bathroom (a classic...but somehow the megacreeps know to wait for you, so you actually have to hide or plan a new route to your destination)
The focused groove (ignore the guy completely and focus intensely on anything but the guy who is trying to dance with you; usually this is a good girl-friend who you were trying to dance with in the first place)
The gratitude (dance for only a minute, then stop completely, smile, and say "Thanks!" then give a little wave and walk off. Saying "thank you" confirms the finality of the situation)

Club social dynamic is hysterically retarded. Like a middle school dance, a guy will walk up to a chick, introduce himself within a couple songs, and say nothing thereafter. This somehow gives him the right to rub his boner on whoever. As I mentioned before, I was kinda put-out by the atmosphere and all the losers trying to dance with us (a good size group of women always get creepo attention) so I didn't afford anyone the courtesy of even a passive cop-out listed above.

A guy came up to me, started dancing and said, "Hey, My name's David."

My response:

"Hey. I don't care." I turned around completely. Getting out of my personal space was the only way this guy was going to improve my night. I wanted to be with my friends! Mikey is usually the douche deterrent, since most of the time people assume he's my boyfriend. However, he was spitting game and had no time to play watchdog.

So I ended up doing some dancing. I did do half a song's worth of African dancing with a French-African named Jean-Roucher. I learned a step or 5 at the dance clubs when I was in France, and he was shocked that a white girl in the midwest had any clue. Also, as usual, I managed to practice my french during the early morning hours. Usually, I only speak french with my cab driver Mohammed, so it was actually cool to have a conversation with a different dialect. It was short though since the music was far too loud for talking.

Even though there were megadouches everywhere and some drunk girl made me mad for a minute, we still had a blast. After the bars closed, we all stayed at my place, smoked, and I made chicken penne pesto using fresh basil from my garden. It's really great drunk food.

We woke up today around noon, watched Clueless while we got high, went to grab some crepes and then walked around the museum, just basically goofing off. It was a VERY nice day! I miss my visitors already.