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Monthly Archives: September 2009

Friends from college, 5 days on a ship, all you can eat, gym, pools, basketball courts, and a bunch of miscellaneous activities.  Standard cruise vacation.

On the night of my friend’s birthday, we all decide to get really drunk.  I know, real shocking news.  He challenged our persuasive abilities by saying he would only drink, but there was no chance he would dance.  It was at that very moment, that I knew, he was going to dance.

(Advice for the future.  If it’s your birthday, stay away from making any bold claims, your friends will probably end up making you regret it.  It’s best you don’t give them any ideas).

If there’s one thing I know, it’s the power of peers and their fanatic pressure.  Mix in some alcohol and what you get is a wondrous concoction called drunken chanting.  As many of you may have experienced, drunken chanting is unstoppable.

We took turns buying him shots.  Alcohol was the first step in eroding his willpower to abstain from dancing.  Next stop.  The club.

Irrelevant side note:

Clubs are strange places.  An interesting notion occurs in these venues.  No guy ever goes to the club and thinks to themselves “Okay tonight, I’m just here to dance.”

No, they are at clubs for the bajingo.  Somehow, over the course of the night, a room of 100% girls will progressively metamorphasize into a sausage fest by the time the lights turn on.  I’m not even going to question this phenomenon, it’s just one of life’s great mysteries.  What I will question is, why do you girls complain about creepers when you go to the club?  You know what clubs entail, you know what’s up, why act surprised?

If you happen to be one of those breeders that complain about getting hit on at the club, you should probably KILL YOURSELF because you are an idiot.  Or you could just stop clubbing.  Whichever is easier.

Back to the story.

So we were in the middle of getting my drunken friend into the club to dance.  Shortly after scuffling in, we requested that the DJ play the enchanting and poetic ballad, “Birthday Sex” by Jeremih.  First of all, wow, who spells Jeremy like that?  I had to look up the artist for that song and already I can tell he is an asshole.

I digress.

While we were able to get the birthday boy to free form waltz to the beautiful resonance of “Birthday Sex,” I spotted a cute girl sitting by the bar looking rather lonely.

I waked over to her and asked for her name.  “I’m [Kaba] she replied.” We then went through the standard mating ritual of polite conversation.  Things were going well until she asked “Do you dance at all?”

Now, by no stretch of imagination could I be considered a good dancer.  At my very best, you could say that I’m capable of not looking retarded.  Of course, naturally when I’m drunk, I am the Michael fucking Jackson incarnate.

“Yea, I’m pretty good” I told Kaba.  Biggest mistake of the night.

We started off nice and easy kind of feeling each other out until she started going into this “wild monkey mode.”  It consisted of extreme booty shaking and lots of bouncing.  It’s hard to describe.  Needless to say, I was a bit overwhelmed but managed to stay calm during this dire situation and decided to go with the classic shimmy.  Probably not the best choice to go with, but my palette of dance moves are extremely limited.

I thought the worst was over until they started playing “her song.”  How did I know this was “her song?”  Well, once she heard this song over the speakers she exclaimed “Oh my God, this is my song.”

Yes I know, I’m psychic.

I figured this most people have songs that they liked, but this was different.  Upon hearing this song, she went into this twitching hip-hop style that even involved spinning on the ground and some jumping action.  It was like having America’s Best Dance Crew slapped in my face.  Soon, a crowd black guys took notice and decided to form a semi-circle surrounding us.  To make matters worse, they wanted to vocalize their approval in the form of a chant, which subsequently inspired Kaba to up the intensity level ten-fold.

In response to this, I put on my best “what the fuck is going on” expression and slowly backed away.  I noticed that some of my friends were watching and laughing hysterically.  It was about this time when I realized…


I just got served.


Collecting free money every week is awesome right?  Hell yea it is.  This is not to say though, that it does not come with minor drawbacks.

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