In this light, you're really ugly.
This weekend was pretty fun. My friends and I met at my buddy’s place. I hadn’t planned on doing a lot of pre-partying, but with a fully stocked liquor cabinet just staring me in the face, it was hard to resist. Seriously, what dog doesn’t go for the piece of meat dangled in front of him/her? Ok, those creepy show-dogs probably don’t go for it, but let’s face it – I’m hardly a show-dog. Hmmm… that was even more self-insulting than I had anticipated. Needless to say, the drinks went down like water... two words: game on.
The club's doorman gave me the most evil look when I came stumbling up and even through my blurred vision, it was pretty clear he couldn’t wait to turn me away. I politely told him I was a guest, and by politely, I mean not at all, I’m pretty sure it was a slurred yell. My friends were just drunk enough to find this amusing and not be completely mortified.
I think it’s pretty safe to say that on the night, I A) made no friends whatsoever and B) will undoubtedly be invited back. I was drunk and feisty – a lethal combination in Nicoland. I decided it would be really fun to periodically call people out in the most insulting way possible… bad shoes, bad hair, ugly, you name it. (I’m not a total bitch, though, I have rules - I never insult people for things they have no control over – handicaps, malformations, naivety, etc.) At first, I insulted myself and my friends enough to make it lighthearted because I had to get the hosts and bartenders on board and on my side; after that, I knew most people would just have to suck it up. I should make note of the fact that I was not only running on liquid courage, but also on Michael courage. My friend, Michael, is about 240 lbs of solid mass, it also doesn’t hurt that he is quite good-looking (and somehow still hangs out with me – wtf? – oh wait, I’m great in the sack.). Had I not been in his company, I’m quite sure I would’ve gotten more verbal and physical rebuttals.
Eventually, I got bored with the whole being mean thing and we just drank, and when we got bored with that, decided to leave. I made a big scene as we left because A) I’m just that lame and B) I just don’t give a fuck.
The club's doorman gave me the most evil look when I came stumbling up and even through my blurred vision, it was pretty clear he couldn’t wait to turn me away. I politely told him I was a guest, and by politely, I mean not at all, I’m pretty sure it was a slurred yell. My friends were just drunk enough to find this amusing and not be completely mortified.
I think it’s pretty safe to say that on the night, I A) made no friends whatsoever and B) will undoubtedly be invited back. I was drunk and feisty – a lethal combination in Nicoland. I decided it would be really fun to periodically call people out in the most insulting way possible… bad shoes, bad hair, ugly, you name it. (I’m not a total bitch, though, I have rules - I never insult people for things they have no control over – handicaps, malformations, naivety, etc.) At first, I insulted myself and my friends enough to make it lighthearted because I had to get the hosts and bartenders on board and on my side; after that, I knew most people would just have to suck it up. I should make note of the fact that I was not only running on liquid courage, but also on Michael courage. My friend, Michael, is about 240 lbs of solid mass, it also doesn’t hurt that he is quite good-looking (and somehow still hangs out with me – wtf? – oh wait, I’m great in the sack.). Had I not been in his company, I’m quite sure I would’ve gotten more verbal and physical rebuttals.
Eventually, I got bored with the whole being mean thing and we just drank, and when we got bored with that, decided to leave. I made a big scene as we left because A) I’m just that lame and B) I just don’t give a fuck.
posted by Nicole @ 9:23 AM
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