Honestly, I can't tell if I'm so excited that I'm fair about to pee myself or if this makes me hate humanity: http://www.metacritic.com/film/titles/zombiestrippers
Pretty sure it's the former.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Sunday, April 06, 2008
"The Luxe Life" or "I'm not kidding, get your hands off my waist"
I finally got to experience super sheik Dallas this past weekend. A friend of mine had her bday at a club downtown called "Dolce". I love foreign names for clubs. It's so "screw you, I'm cultured but seriously I've never left Texas before". After paying $8 for the valet to park my car and watching my friend try to bribe him with $10 to keep her car out front (he was so flabbergasted that he actually told me about it in an incredulous tone), we entered Dolce through a long industrial looking hallway with oodles of mirrors so that I could admire my awesome outfit (helLO YSL shoes) before entering the dregs of Dallas society.
Big D is an interesting place insofar in that it is a huge and amazing city with tons to do. On the flip side of the coin, we have a very active and very visible young 30-somethings community that consists of lonely 40-something men trying to sleep with ambitious 20-something girls. How, then, does one tell the difference between the cream of the crop and the knobby kernels that get stuck in your teeth? Why, income of course! For example, the table we were at was home to about 10 bottles of liquor bought by some random guy who doesn't have anything better to do with his money. He was actually very nice, not that I got to test the theory much due to some pretty impressive techno. Also, I didn't know that "Thanks for the party!" could be construed as a proposition, but I'm not a doctor. Or prostitute.
Several things noted whilst "partying".
1. There was a woman in the bathroom whose primary purpose I have to assume was to stop people from doing coke. I can see why since 2 out of 3 stalls were not vacated in the 20 minutes I spent in line.
2. The ratio of men to women was roughly 5 to 1. All looking to get laid. None doing anything more than bobbing slightly to the techno while leering at passersby.
3. Guidos come from all cultures, not just Italian. I walked into what I thought was a tight t-shirt/spiked hair contest. I lost.
Also, I waited 20 f'ing minutes for the valet to bring me my car. Best of all, I saw them drive by with it TWICE before I grabbed a pimply faced youth and said "For serial, get me my damn car." *points at car whizzing past*
Big D is an interesting place insofar in that it is a huge and amazing city with tons to do. On the flip side of the coin, we have a very active and very visible young 30-somethings community that consists of lonely 40-something men trying to sleep with ambitious 20-something girls. How, then, does one tell the difference between the cream of the crop and the knobby kernels that get stuck in your teeth? Why, income of course! For example, the table we were at was home to about 10 bottles of liquor bought by some random guy who doesn't have anything better to do with his money. He was actually very nice, not that I got to test the theory much due to some pretty impressive techno. Also, I didn't know that "Thanks for the party!" could be construed as a proposition, but I'm not a doctor. Or prostitute.
Several things noted whilst "partying".
1. There was a woman in the bathroom whose primary purpose I have to assume was to stop people from doing coke. I can see why since 2 out of 3 stalls were not vacated in the 20 minutes I spent in line.
2. The ratio of men to women was roughly 5 to 1. All looking to get laid. None doing anything more than bobbing slightly to the techno while leering at passersby.
3. Guidos come from all cultures, not just Italian. I walked into what I thought was a tight t-shirt/spiked hair contest. I lost.
Also, I waited 20 f'ing minutes for the valet to bring me my car. Best of all, I saw them drive by with it TWICE before I grabbed a pimply faced youth and said "For serial, get me my damn car." *points at car whizzing past*
Go fudge yourself, Spring 08. Seriously.
I think I am officially tired of the waffling going on in my personal life. I'm the kind of person who likes concrete answers. It's what makes me giggle with girlish enthusiasm when I get to do accounting, even though ironically I'm majoring in marketing, the least "certain" business discipline. Nothing like guessing after hours of research to really complete one's day.
The best part is that right when I've come around to the point of really beginning to believe that my realigned perceptions of the situation are correct, someone always skips right in and kicks the crap out of my sand castle.
The best part is that right when I've come around to the point of really beginning to believe that my realigned perceptions of the situation are correct, someone always skips right in and kicks the crap out of my sand castle.
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