Sunday, September 24, 2006

Sweet, Sweet Fantasy

I broke down. I finally went to a club in Manhattan. Just to remind you guys, if you don't talk to me on a daily basis and hear all about this, I hate clubs. Which is where DDPP was born. Anyway, the last time I was at a club and had fun was when I turned 21 and my friends and I went to Lime Light. I had the most awesome time: I almost got busted for smoking pot, I almost gave my fiancee a handy in a booth upstairs (sorry, mom) and I almost got so drunk I died. Almost. That's the story of my life, isn't it?

Every club experience after that has been completely retardo. Waiting in lines, douchey people, bad music. And I have to say this time was not bad... but honestly not much different.

Amanda Allan and I decided to go to BED because every time we talk about going out to a club we say, "let's go to BED!" and we never do. This time... this time we went.

There was a short line but we waited because why not. It wasn't down the block so we knew we'd be in in a few minutes. Besides... we're funny girls! We'd entertain ourselves in line! For example: let's look at our driver's license pictures and comment on how we look like lesbians! Which brings the number of friends I have who have terrible, lesbian haircuts in their license picture to 3. I'm sorry lesbians... I don't mean to offend. I'm sure a lot of you have great hair. So we wait in line a while, laughing all the time, and then enter the club. It's on the 6th floor so we first have to get in an elevator (which immediately makes me nervous which makes me crack a joke, "this is what we stood in line for!?" which garners 50% of the elevator snickering (i.e. the secure people. enough so to laugh at a terrible joke.) and 50% of the elevator shooting me glances as if I'd just said I was going to eat a bagel with cream cheese (i.e. the girls who looked 14. and probably were.).

The elevator takes us up and when we arrive on the 6th floor I hold my breath for what has been a club mecca to me for quite some time. Which doesn't hold much salt since, as I said, I hate clubs. All the same, I was expecting something amazing. And what I got was 20 people standing around, 20 people laying on beds and one man we later dubbed "party crew" who was dancing alone as if he were surrounded by strobe lights and foam. Needless to say; I was a bit unimpressed. But we decided to make the most of it (use the bathroom) so we stayed.

After standing there for what seemed like days (as I sipped on my $10 gin & tonic which they gave to me in a large mixing bowl. i'm kidding.) two men walked over to talk to us. First impression? Hmm. Second? Oooh, they're Australian! (Sorry boys but the accent really does bring the sexy factor up at least 2 pts.) They were nice enough chaps (blokes?) and they thought we were bloody hilarious (these are all British terms I'm using, yes?) and the one, named Paul I believe, offered to buy us a round. We agreed and as soon as he left went off on the, "oooh I hope he doesn't roofie us!" tangent. Or, as my friend Marcy says, "make sure no one puts a mickey in my drink." I adore her. The talk of being date raped OF COURSE led us to politely decline the purchased drinks and leave the club, right? Yeah... right. Free drinks are free drinks, my friends. I will stick around and talk to just about anyone for a free drink. Which sounds pathetic but come on. You know you're with me on this one, ladies. (Please, god, tell me you're with me on this one.)

After a while Paul was the only one sticking around talking to us and I honestly couldn't figure out which of us he was in to. And here's why. After 20 minutes of knowing this man he says to us, "mind if I ask you ladies a rather personal question?" To which, after a few looks and raised eyebrows, we said of course he could.

"Are you two a couple?"

We laughed. And laughed. AND LAUGHED. Then we laughed a little more. And then we stopped. And then we laughed some more and he apologized for offending us and we said no no, it was fine! And kind of hot. And then I ruined the moment by saying, "I totally thought you were going to ask us to blow you in the bathroom!" (sorry, mom)

Oh, Glennis. Can you not be classy for just a little bit? Like, just a few minutes?

I guess you can take the girl out of Colorado...

We went to Level V after that and it was fun but at that point we were so exhausted (from providing hot fantasies for Aussies) we had to call it a night.

So thus ends another night in this single girl's life. I hope it sounds oh so much more glamorous than it was.

Oh who am I kidding. It was pretty effin glamorous.

Have a good night all you reading this at 12:10AM! (my timestamp thing is effed up. I gotta fix that.)

Love,

Glennis

4 comments:

Sarah said...

So, are you going to end your clubbing experiences on a high note, or tempt fate again???

Glennis said...

I think we all know I'll be tempting that beyotch again. Care to join me??

Ben said...

I'm assuming the red puffiness from the derm abrasion had lessened by this point? I had always thought derm abrasion took a while to recover from. Apparently you are made of sterner stuff.

Sarah said...

If I were in NY, perhaps.