Hallo my lovely brothers. Oh ho ho, let me tell you about the indie rock disco. It's quite simple in fact: there was no indie, very little rock but a whole lot of muthafucking disco. Amazing!! The breakdown of my birthday evening goes as follows:
It all begin with dressing up smeltrex as an indie hipster. Myself and B had delighted in the fact that schmel has little visual conception of what indie is and naturally since we were going to the indie rock disco I demanded that she dress indie. Ohh my brothers, what fun! My and B were like maniac little fasionistas with a vision, and schmel was nothing but a trooper. The end result was friggin amazing! Wife beater, pearls, newsboy cap and grandma sweater, oh my!
Then the predrinking began. After the crack of the bottle, I felt it necessary to arm schmel with the proper indie attitude now that the outfit was complete. Oh ho ho, we practiced looking generally disinterested with the world for a good solid hour. HOLYPISS!!
After the drinking drunk goodtimes we were off to embrace the night and to dance our little feets off. We got at the indie rock disco at about ten and with tripidation we walked through the doors only to be greeted by a cheesy 80s song. Naturally we asked to pay the four dollar cover I demanded that birthday girls do not pay dammit! Yes, birthday attention whore awesomeness. The radtacular behaviour of demanding free drinks/free attention/free anything because of my birthday situation continued throughout the night.
The disco itself was pretty much empty and those filling room were gay men, a few couples and one cougar . . . so basically the recipe for awesomeness! Me et al. sat with in a booth listening to Madonna pour out of the speakers followed up by Groovers in the Hall . . . it was the music of bad wedding receptions and high school dance parties. It was a disco of LIES AND DECEPTION! But naturally with enough rum to give me superhuman strengths, we hit the floor.
At any point there would only be 4 people on the dance floor at anytime . . . it's an intimidating space, especially when you are one of the four. Whatevs I say!! The dancing ensued and oh my it pretty much didn't stop until my calves screamed in pain and schmel was molested by one of the few straight guys we managed to find. As we were preparing to leave my most favorite person in the world came to say goodbye: it was the cougar!!
Her name was Lynn and I love her because we schmel told her it was my birthday in the gross little bathroom she turned to me with beady eyes . . . and then proceed to rap 50 cent to me. The accoustics of the space where fucking awesome for such a moment!! Everytime she saw me on the dance floor, she proceeded to rap ol' 50 to me. Amazing! At the end of the night, Lynn's speech was significantly slurred so the impact of her speech was slightly lost.
"It's your 21st birthday. You live the year with no regrets because you're 21. You live."
And with that she staggered off into the night . . .
TO DA MOON!
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You know, even with the gross guy that gropped me, the severe lack of what I was told would be indy, the intense lack of rock, and the near-death chest cold I am now sporting because you're a fashion Nazi, it was still a fantastic night. Happy birthday Chelso! Take the drunken Lynn's wisdom and embrace it.
To da moon, indeed.
-Smeltrex
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