Club land schmub land

Alright so for this story to make any context you got to understand that mood I was in. It was the first night on me quitting smoking (its been three days now, no applause nessecary) but I was cranky, shaky and sweaty. But anyway to the story. So Laura (1) convinced me to go with her to Laura Robinson's (2) birthday celebration at her condo and then a club called the emabssy (gags all around). So we hung out at Laura's condo for a while, while everyone got drunk. I stayed sober because I found out the hard way that wine and jager do not mix. So we went to the club and its freezing and we are standing in line when one of the bouncers says to Jason (Laura's (1) friend) that he cannot come in because hes wearing running shoes. So there was pleading and what ifs from the line to try to get him in with no avail. We finally all get in only to pay $10 :| F'in hell I hate it already. Picture the neon lights, the spot lights and throbbing dance beats. Oh don't get me started on paying $20 for 2 redbull and a shot of jager. The night rolls on, poor Laura (1) is a bit drunk and the music continues to suck and my attempts at dancing are lack luster at best. I was severely under dressed. I did not have nearly the 1 gallon of gel in my hair done in a perfectly pointed faux hawk, or the tight tight shirt, or the perfectly manicured beard. But Laura (1) and I made the best of it. We laughed at the people, talked about punching a few in the face, of course Laura (1) got hit on, but hey thats usually how it goes. The skanktourage was out in full force and honestly everyone was there to be seen. Its no dance cave at least there we can do what we please and enjoy semi decent music. Those clubs need to be burned to the floor with those club people still in them. That was my rant for the night. At some point in time Laura will post some pictures. Keep on trucking guys and we are loving every second of your blog. We miss you plenty.
-Graeme