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Saturday, January 29, 2005

Vitriolic Misanthropy

I almost didn't go to the nightclub tonight. People are beginning to say nasty things about me. Things like: Steve is bitter, antisocial, uptight, grumpy, and judgmental. So I had to prove them wrong. So I went to this so-called mecca of young people having fun. This establishment bears the unfortunate name of Zentra and has a faux exotic theme with hookahs and buddha statues all over the place. And red lights.

I arrived at 9:45 and had 15 minutes to quaff as many free vodka drinks as possible. My friends were at a table with drinks lined up in front of them untouched. In reserve. It was a bit pathetic. After 10pm, drinks cost money. I ordered a gin & tonic and was shellshocked by the $8 price tag. Fuck a duck. I paid, tipped, and morosely wandered back to the support beam I had adopted as my leaning post. I now understood the drink stockpiling.

Disclaimer: I hate house music the most of all dance music types, and I don't dance. I received endless shit for this all night long. "Are you having fun? I know you're dancing on the inside. Isn't this song great? Shake it, Steve!" Sorry, I drink, curse, belch, and bleed. No dancing. Tough shit.

Okay, so maybe I am antisocial. Either there's something wrong with me or everybody else, and I lose that one. I care not. Aside from the occasional attractive female with big round hips, everybody looks to me like retards trying to shake out a constipation problem. Epileptics suffering asthma attacks.

I just do not belong here. People kept asking me where to find the bathrooms because apparently I look like a bouncer. I tried not to scowl, but I wasn't grinning like a leprechaun getting a blowjob from Tinkerbell like most of the chuckleheads in that joint. I was trying not to disappoint my friends so I tried to stay relaxed and calm, say nothing cruel, and even smile every once in a while. I might've succeeded.

As the night wore on and midnight passed, the doormen wildly exceeded the fire code capacity. Claustrophobics would've ruptured vessels. People were dancing on me. Elbows assaulted my ribcage. Cigarettes were extinguished on my neck. The air was so foggy that I gasped and nearly collapsed from asphyxiation.

I left as the rest of my crowd were shivering in line outside, waiting to get inside. They looked at me in wonder. "You're leaving? It's only 1:30!"

"Yes. I like air. Have fun and goodnight."
2:44 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm

11 Comments:

January 29, 2005 2:50 AM, Blogger rysolag said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

 
January 29, 2005 7:51 AM, Blogger Kerouaced said...

Dancing is about as fun as tightening your earlobe in a vice. Weekends are for relaxing, reflection, travel, and inebriation. You've got a good grip on the lame dance scene, don't let go, hold that bastard around the neck and squeeze...that said, keep up the observations they are very entertaining and don't ever dance unless of course a hot chick in very revealing attire beckons you to do so...

 
January 29, 2005 12:28 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Why I don't dance:

I don't dance because I have no rythym. I look like an seizure-ridden epileptic with a gimp leg and poor balance. It's not that I'm worried about looking silly, it's that my dancing could seriously injure people within a 15 yard radius. Yes yards. I have slippery shoes. My dancing is a weapon of mass destruction and I don't want to be arrested for terrorism. If I danced people would think I was dying and might call the paramedics, spoiling the night for everyone. It just wouldn't do.

 
January 30, 2005 2:35 PM, Blogger FreedomGirl said...

My hubs is also one of those guys that never smiles, talks or dances(saves all rhythmic movement for sex). I always do enough of those things for both of us..we got that yin/yang thing goin' on...found you via Wyatt Junker..cool blog.
BTW....rysolag is a mother f***er...hits me almost daily...gggrrr!

 
January 30, 2005 5:33 PM, Blogger Wyatt Junker said...

I don't dance, but I fuck. A lot. And its kind of like dancing, just not the standing up kind. Oh sure, there's writhing and my head flies back, and there's some serious jiggling and overall pretty decent biomechanics there. But, I just can't do it in a club although I tried twice.

Let's just say I don't dance publicly. However, I do a mean butt-ass naked vogue in front of a full body mirror. You should see my balls and taint when I do leg kicks. Exciting as hell!

 
January 30, 2005 8:56 PM, Blogger MsInsightful said...

Being antisocial is a good thing so don't worry about everyone else. They're all idiots anyway.

 
January 31, 2005 3:07 AM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Wow. That's one crowded nightclub. It sounds like you were one Whitesnake concert away from dying a firey death!

 
January 31, 2005 10:42 AM, Blogger Bookfraud said...

So some worry that "Steve is bitter, antisocial, uptight, grumpy, and judgmental."

Consider those compliments. It's the perfect resume for a writer.

Your experience at the club is perfect fodder for a blog entry, because you had a rotten time. A chirpy, happy, brainless, lesser person would tell everybody that they had a GREAT TIME paying EIGHT DOLLARS for a drink and the house music was AWESOME and other palbum that nobody wants to read.

 
January 31, 2005 10:43 AM, Blogger Bookfraud said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

 
January 31, 2005 12:42 PM, Blogger sic said...

I would have commented, but the above commenter said what I was thinking.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

It's all right. I'm better now.

What? Never mind.

 
February 02, 2005 2:16 PM, Blogger sCruuw said...

Stopped in to say..

"HAAAAAY HELLLLLO"

OK I am outty!

Late.

Candi

 

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