March 18, 2011

The Club

     The Club. A place where boys get drunk and the girls even drunker. Everybody dresses to the 9s or in the least amount of clothes possible before you're considered naked. Lights are low and music is blasting, girls in the cages dancing for (not enough)$ an hour. The DJ plays anything full of bass, fast and mentioning "the dirty deed".
     Last Tuesday I had the opportunity to visit The Club when my long haired cousin told me that a few dance class friends and his hip self were going to the School of Rock on Mill. After my slightly tanned cousin rebutted all my excuses, I found myself dressed club-like, yet modestly covered (15 points for me), and off we went!!
     After getting the "Sexy X's" marked on my hands, we ventured into the steamy dark room, not knowing what horrors awaited us. After my eyes accustomed themselves to the dark, the first things I noticed (in this order) was the music, the amount of people, the dancing poles, and the urge to claw my eyes out when I noticed the pole was occupied by two very large, very sweaty, lingerie clad, cellulite ridden ladies (-7 for un-niceness). The shear force of their bumping and grinding sent ripples that could easily be rated a 8.5 on the richtor scale. I pointed this out to my averagely tall cousin who may have already started bleeding from the eyes, so we quickly moved to the center of the floor to dance, facing the other way of course. 

     So my awkwardly smiling cousin, his girly dance friends and I tore up the dance floor, twisting, swiveling, dropping it to the ground. Basically shaking what our mothers gave us. Men started to close in, first dancing with the curvy short booty shaker with us (-10 points for not being the coolest dancer there), then slowly picking off the rest of us. Personally I thought I would be safe since I was a white girl with curly hair that was pulled back into a sad ponytail. Oh, was I wrong. 

     First comes Stocky Grabby Man. Not too sure if he's cute or not because the guy is usually behind the girl when dancing at such places. We commenced with the dancing, and yes, he lives up to his name. We bumped and ground to the music while I did my best to fend off his tentacle hands (5 points for prudence). All the while, my physically thin cousin watched him like a hawk, as well as my face for any distress signals. After about 3 songs, I did get a little tired of batting the Dancing Kraken. I mouthed 'help' and made a sweat covered escape into the crowd, but unfortunately only after I got Stocky Grabby Man's number.

      Second! Oh, second. It was a very large, very black, slightly older male. I freaked. Where I was spawned, there were only a few black people, so this was a new experience. And they're supposed to be great dancers ( 0_o ). Fortunately, he was the slow (and sleazy) dancer type. By now, I knew 80% of the sweat on me had not originated from my body. At least he was decent enough to pull my shirt back down when it continued to rise. Once again watched closely by my wonky toed cousin, (by now we had hand signals, 10 points for strategy), and once again, a clean escape was made.

     There was hardly a break. The next male came swiftly but not silently. Skinny, short and pale, he proceeded to undulate around me and sing loudly to the song, half the time with the words and the other half singing 'nah naaah nah nah naah!!' when the words escaped his inebriated cranium. This didn't last long (8 points for stopping while I was ahead). I made the signal and he back off, hands raised when my oddly intimidating cousin stepped in and said he was 'dancing with his sister'. 

     The club continued to be hoppin', the ladies fine and the hips poppin'. I could tell the night was winding down for our gracefully gyrating group. Then a hand landed on my shoulder. It was the slightly older black man again. For some reason, my refusal skills are excruciatingly below average (-6 points). We danced, I got drenched in sweat (again) and he tried to make a move at my neck, then proceeded to nibble on my ear, and then put his tongue in my unfortunate little ear! Shocked into stupidity, we finished the song and I made a dash for it when the DJ started talking. I located my posse while I cleaned out my ear, and we all decide it was time to go when they started the "who is wearing the least amount of clothing" contest.

     We departed, the band disbanded, and began the trek back home. During the drive, my exceptionally rhythmical cousin and I discussed the nights events, chatting like old hens (unfortunatly 150 points go to him for being the coolest bodyguard ever. I would like to, however, award myself an additional 50 points for going through all that and finding it hilarious).

     All in all, it was fun to "shake my groove thang", be in good company, and gain another story to share with you, and also with future posterity. I bet my grandkids will get a kick out of "Stories about Grandma's Youth".

Final Score

Me: 65 points
My stickshift driving cousin: 150 points