Cool Story of the Day

Well, I feel as though i've posted too many photos and not enough interesting stories that people will want to read. So, i'm going to take a word out of my darling Tom Yanco's book, and try write some funny story, and then put some photos and gifs in that are relevant. I've never really written a funny story that is a recount of my day.. but i'll give it a try.

My Saturday.
Meagans' 20th.

After spending 2 hours getting ready to go into the city for my first ever night of clubbing, and trying on countless outfits, shoes and hairstyles, I was finally ready to head in to town. The first few minutes of the car ride were spent with me sitting, looking dreamily out the window.. thinking of the night to come. My first adventure as an adult into the nightlife of Sydney clubs.
 And then it hit me.
Holy Shit. 
I'm going to need to dance, aren't I.

See, here's the problem.
While all the bitches and hoes will be out on the dance floor, acting like this:

close enough.

here i'll be, acting like this:

But then I began thinking.. Sure, it might seem that clubbing is all about dancing, but everyone's going to be so tightly packed together, they probably wont even notice what people around them are dancing like. seeing as it wont really be dancing, more.. writhing around like a tin full of live sardines. live.. sweaty.. sardines.

No, it wasn't dancing that I had to fear. it was the way I was dressed.
As we were driving along, I took out a little mirror and thought, "GURLL, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

Expectation:

Reality:

Aside from the fact that the lighting in my bathroom is so terrible, I didn't realize how awful my makeup was until I was outside in the car, in the sunlight... To top it off, I looked down at the dress I was wearing, and I may as well have skinned a sheep and worn it's coat, because that probably would have made for an outfit that wouldn't have been so hot. I was wearing a thick dress with long sleeves, on a hot night. And I was expecting to be able do dance in that, without passing out?

yeah... i'm screwed. 

I get dropped just down the road from the place we were meeting, Lowenbrou, a fancy German restaurant with lots of loud music, and dancing to "I don't want to be a chicken, I don't want to be a duck."

As i'm walking to said restaurant, I notice problem 3.
Shoes.
THE GOD DAMNED SHOES. 
here I am, thinking before I leave.. I'm in for a long night, I wont wear any shoes that are too tall. So I decide to put on a really short pair of heels. they felt nice and comfortable at first. I guess that was because I walked from the door to the car.
well, of course, just my luck. They're ended up being about as comfortable as strapping angry porcupines to my feet.

I hobble on over to the restaurant, and am confronted by a huge bouncer. I was expecting to be checked for ID, like every other person in the line in front of me, but for some reason, he just took one look at me, gave me a stamp on my hand, and let me on through. Although i guess with a face like this...

who wouldn't think I was over 18?

So I'm led to the table that we had reserved for Meagans' party, and seeing as i'm half an hour early, I'm the first person there. So I take my seat, forever alone.

There's this German band on the stage, which I was sitting almost in front of, with about 5 old ish blonde guys playing accordions. They were getting everyone up and dancing to the "I don't want to be a chicken, I don't want to be a duck" song,

QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK

And one of the band members in particular seemed to take quite a liking to me.
In the whole bloody restaurant, so packed full of dancing people, why did he pick ME? Yes, it might be attributed to the fact that I was sitting alone at the table, but it was very VERY uncomfortable, knowing that every time I looked up from the menu I would see this.

So i'm sitting there, trying to find any excuse to avoid this mans.. inviting gaze.. when suddenly, a chair is pulled out opposite me, and some dashing young man sits down to say hello.
"My my my, what's a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself? you look awful lonely. mind if I sit here and keep you company?"

no... no, of course.. not...

"so, do you come here often?"  <---- YEAH NICE ONE BUDDY. ORIGINAL.

"Oh, I come here a fair bit with my boyfriend."

well, it's safe to say that I managed to use that excuse 3 times, on the 3 different guys that came over to me while I was waiting. They didn't stay for long after that was said.

and you know whats funny? Sam and I have never been to Lowenbrow together!

Anyway, the rest of Meagan's birthday gang arrive, we eat a VERY EXPENSIVE MEAL. (so worth it though....) have VERY LITTLE conversation, because of the seedy German accordion gang and their horribly loud music, and then go next door for... MY FIRST CLUBBING EXPERIENCE! 
So i'm in line, waiting to get my ID checked. I can hear the music from outside. Sure, the music wasn't quite what i'd expected.. no real.. dance music. but when I finally walked through the doors, this place was BEAUTIFUL. The Argyle, in the Rocks. Check it out :)

Anyway, I was expecting to get in there, and people would be dancing, like the sweaty sardines i'd compared them to earlier. but no, people were sitting down, yelling at each other over the music, trying to hear what they were saying.
Now I know that sitting around drinking expensive drinks and trying to hear yourself think might SOUND interesting, but I was temporarily distracted by some lint on my woolly dress.

A few of us girls from Meagan's gang get up and try to start a dance floor...
You know, hoping for a little bit of...

but ending up with mostly...

There was no dancing. There was no partying. There was no singing.
But worse of all, the drinks were so expensive.

No.

I don't think you understand.

The drinks. Were Expensive.

EXPENSIVE DRINKS. NO GOOD MUSIC. NO DANCING.

NO FUN.

 

Oh, the humanity.

So we all high tail it out of there, away from the expensive drinks and poor music. And walk (yes.. walk. in the painful shoes) to Jacksons.

Here's me, all the way to Jacksons on George.

So we get there, buy some cheap drinks. YES. CHEAP DRINKS.

And then I get to go and do some REAL DANCING.

I'm sorry.. but being asked to complete incredibly complex and advanced dancing moves like

might seem easy, but I am currently still mastering the art of movement while my feet are ON F***ING FIRE. OH THE PAIN. MAKE IT END.  God damned shoes. I would have been better off wearing 6 inch comfortable shoes rather than 2 inch uncomfortable shoes. And the stupid ass holes and their stupid OHS policy wouldn't allow me to take them off.

Well anyway, at about 1:30 my parents call and tell me that they are ready to take me home. They stayed out for a night in the city, and they met me at the entrance of the club. Here I am, on the phone to mum... she says

"Ok, we're outside!"

and i'm expecting to come walking out to see the car pulled up at the door, where I will be able to swan dive into the car and take off my horrible excuse for shoes, feeling that incredible sensation that you get when removing painful shoes after hours and hours of.. pain.

Come on girls, you know the one i'm talking about.

well, close enough.

But what's this? I make it to the door of Jacksons, hobble outside, and see my mum and dad standing on the footpath. 

No car in sight.

Surely this must be some sort of troll.

They wouldn't park a few streets away, surely. It must be just around the corner.

"Um.. mum, dad, wheres the car?"

"Oh! we had to park down near town hall."

That's walking from The Rocks, to Town Hall. That's 1.7 KM's according to google maps. 

and for those of you unfamiliar with Sydney, 

to a girl in heels with bleeding feet,

that's like a Mexican crossing the border running bare foot, all the way New York.

 

Now, I know you're probably thinking.. suck it up princess. well, that's exactly what I did. I put on my boss face, and tanked the half hour walk, and looked damn good while doing it.

Well, it wasn't quite like that.

it was more like this, but.. not as glamorous.

ok. I guess it was really like this.

Point being that in the end, I made it to the car. EVENTUALLY. and yes. I took my shoes off. 

I guess all there is left to tell is that I got in the car, we came home, I crashed on the bed and woke up in the morning to realize.. I hadn't taken my makeup off last night.

Sigh.

Time to break out the makeup remover. 

this being the result, after I removed my makeup.

well, that's it then. I'm done. My clubbing experience was fun, but painful.

If you've made it this far in my cool story, then you're probably Samuel or Tash or Nicky.

If you're not, leave a comment, i'd love to see who actually bothered to read all this crap!

On a side note, i've pulled an all nighter, working on this blog. it's now 6:53AM.. and i'm past the point of feeling tired. but i'm also over writing. i'll just leave it at that.

Now, Go do something productive!

<3 Alex