The Safety Dance Doesn't Involve Electrical Tape.

So on the rare days I actually step foot in a mall, I have to listen to this radio station that plays "upbeat" music, which basically means pure unadulterated shit. I find nothing upbeat about having to listen to "Men In Black" and "My Goddamn Humps" 18 times a fucking day. In fact, it makes me Hulk mad. But there's one song that always plays I hate worst than anything...and I'll get to it's name in a minute. It caused me to think about the short period of time where I was going to dance clubs a LOT. Yeah, me. Stop snickering.

As I was thinking on those times, I realized there were several reasons why I no longer go to dance clubs. If I offend, well I'm just going on my experiences. Here are some of the many types of club people:

The "I don't dance" Guy- As the name implies, he does NOT dance. He merely stands there, usually with beer in hand, and watches the women. These guys are normally the ones dressed in heavy metal shirts...or shirts with lightning bolts and wolves on them. They think they can score. They are wrong.

The Pinball Guy- I say guy because these are the only ones I've seen do this. This guy likes to dance...and will bounce from woman to woman like a human pinball game in search of one who doesn't look at him like he has a penis growing out of his eye. If he's drinking, he's the one most likely to tilt when you shake him.

The Fake Lesbians- You know what I'm talking about, the girls who only dance with each other and dance seductively. You aren't fooling anybody. It screams "LOOK AT US TEE HEE" in bright neon letters. In fact, you should program that phrase into your dumbass lcd belts. Bleh.

The Serious Dancer- Usually a guy, but I've seen the female version as well, these are the people who think they are the best dancers on the planet and will waste no time in showing you. The only problem is, 99% of people go to clubs to drink and get laid, so nobody cares. Nobody. So while you're busting a move...remember that people are looking at the fake lesbians, not you. Ever.

The Circle of Lonely Men- This is a sad one, and one I've seen way too many times. You're dancing with your friends and one of your lady friends happens to get separated from the group. That's when it happens. It starts off with just one guy...no big deal. But this man somehow sends out a Morse code with his foot or some shit and before you know it, she's surrounded by the circle of lonely men. And much like the people on the beach when the kid gets eaten in Jaws, there's not a damn thing you can do but watch...and sometimes laugh.

The Drunk Frat Guys- Nuff said.

The "Playas" and "Ballas"- Ok, first off, add a goddamn "er" to the end of your words...it makes you sound retarded. These are the guys who will approach anything with a vagina(and sometimes a guy if he's pretty enough and he thinks he won't get caught) and when he ends up with the ugliest woman there, claims he's got "skillz". No you don't have "skillz" you have my condolences when Godzilla the Mud Monster crushes you in bed.

And finally, the type of person who inspired this blog...

The "Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me" Mutant- God bless you for having the confidence, but hell no. But there's a "Balla" looking for a good time.

Watching Paint Dry IS Boring as Hell

So I haven't written in a couple days. I could hem and haw and can claim to be too busy, but seeing as I don't have to work, that would be a lie. The truth is too horrible...too mind numbing to properly put into words...

But I'll do it anyway.

Saturday night, Sara, her friend April, and myself went out to drink. Seeing as I don't really have many friends, I thought I'd make the effort to become a bit more social. I was thinking of buying a few pitchers of beers, shoot the breeze, and maybe have a threesome.

I was kidding about the threesome...well mostly.

So we go over to April's house, and we all head out. Since I haven't had any beer in a few months (due to events I won't get into), I was ready to get my drink on, as the kids now say.

And then they tricked me.

Sara and April decided to get their nails done. Since I was now trapped, I decided to wait it out. It couldn't be that bad right? I mean, how long could it take...15 minutes...a half hour?

It was a goddamn eternity.

I would have preferred to spend the day hanging out with the lovely people at the DMV than to be subjected to this. My brain turned to mush reading about how some Dawson's Hill actor and how many actresses drool over him. The only moment of enjoyment was a woman yelling out to the car to her friend about "getting their toes did". Her words, not mine.

It was so bad I longed to watch grass grow...to measure the ear hair of old men...to watch a Michael Bay film. It was an hour and a half, but I know I must have aged three times that amount of time. If I was a dog, I would have dropped dead that's how long it felt.

Finally it was over, and we went out and enjoyed some beers. But the memory of that day will haunt me. A warning to those men who go out with their old ladies...make sure you're doing the driving.