The United Nations Delegation and the Skanky Pirate Slut

5:51 PM – The United Nations Delegation and the Skanky Pirate Slut

Since I randomly have tomorrow off, and I’m not normally off on Fridays, I decided to go out tonight.  I heard about this new club, and when I say new, I mean new to me since I never hear about anything until a year later.

I actually bothered to read one of Midnight’s emails and I found out about Club 5 (why does every city have a Club 5) and their goth night Chronos or something like that.

It was cheap, hey, why not, so I got all gussied up to go out.  As usual with DC, I got all confused because of their convulated infrastructure and stupid street pattern.  It seems like every other street has a street name on it and none of the streets are in nice parallel or perpendicular lines so it’s hard to understand which street sign corresponds to which street.  Since I have the IQ of a jelly bean, I get confused real easy.

The directions said “enter the roundabout and take 4th exit to Rhode Island Ave.”  When I get in the roundabout the FIRST exit was Rhode Island but I missed it and had to go back around.  As I was going around in the roundabout I saw another Rhode Island, so I’m like… which Rhode Island?  I applied a bit of logic figuring that the streets were going up so I needed to go up rather than down.

So I got back in the damn roundabout and went around that bitch like 6 times because I kept missing the Rhode Island exit.  I went around so many times that I got confused about which Rhode Island was which, so I just guessed and drove down one and hope it was the right spot.

I found the right street but I couldn’t find the club because everything in DC looks the same.  By the time I did find the club I passed it and had to go back around.  Going back around in DC is never easy, but I got back on track and with the help of a bum, I managed to find free parking.

When I go to the place, I’m not even sure if I’m in the right place.  This is supposed to be Goth/Industrial and there were like thug niggas hanging out front and some yuppies coming down the stairs.  I heard Hallucination Generation so I figured it was the right spot.

So here is where I admit I need new glasses.  After I pay to get inside, I go upstairs.  The dance floor is nice and there are like these big boxes to sit on.  On one of the boxes was what I thought was a BIG FAT man.  I was thinking, “Goddamn, that’s a big bitch.”  Turns out it was three people sitting next to each other. 

I promise I’m going to get my eyes checked tomorrow.

When I first come to a place, I scope it out first before I hit the dance floor.  I need to get the feel of the place, and already I felt awkward because there were like normal people in there, and I mean normal like, Chas and Jen Clifton out for a drink with the Cambridges.  Yuppie-ville if you don’t understand what I’m saying.  There was a woman in there in what looked like her prom dress with the this shawl that looked like my grandmother might have knitted it if she knew how to knit.

Then there was this abomination.  She looked like she was having the time of her life, though, so I am not going to hate in that respect, but she was wearing a red skanky pirate girl outfit and this wig that looked like it was made of out of all the rejected weave pieces in America.  This woman had titties bigger than mine.  Now, I have been accused of wearing low-cut shirts to show my boobs, and I admit this is true, because I believe in a time and a place for everything.  But when I do wear shirts that show my titties, they aren’t three sizes too small where my boob might fault if I take a deep breath, and then on top of that, I don’t start hopping up and down, swinging them shits around like that.

The way she was dancing, it was like her titties was doing double dutch.  It was ridiculous.

Enter the delegation from the United Nations.  This comment might not make any sense to you but seriously a group of the most ethnically diverse guys came in.  Romania, Albania, Kenya, Nigeria, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan, Sierra Leone and Lesotho was in that piece.  I’m dead serious, half the group was African and the other half was Middle Eastern.  They got on my nerves because clearly they were not goth nor into the freak lifestyle. 

All the African guys were wearing white elf shoes.  Okay, they weren’t elf shoes, but they were white and it is after Labour Day.  The white shoes did not appear to be matching anything in their ensemble unless you count the wife beater the guy from Tajikistan was wearing.  They pretty much stood in the middle of the dance floor, attempting to dance and making a nuisance of themselves.  One of the African guys was passed out underneath one of the tables.  Another tried to dance with me, but I figure if I want to be harassed I’ll go to a hip hop club.

I like freak spots because even though the place is full of freaks no one bothers you unless you want to be bothered.  Freaks respect each other’s space in a way that hip-hoppers could never understand.

So anyway, the music was tiresome and then I realised these were pretty much the same DJs from Alchemy/Nations/Whatever.  I abhorred Alchemy with a passion, only going out to support the scene and to keep from dying of boredom. 

DC’s goth scene is supremely unfriendly, and as a result I have yet to meet anyone really on more than a, “Hey, nice shirt” or “I like the way you dance” basis.  So I don’t really know any of the DJs or who hangs out with who, or any of that business. 

I am a goth-snob in the sense that I prefer a club that is for freaks only and plays freak-only music.  Right Said Fred, Placebo, deep fried versions of what sounded like Saturday Night Fever, etc. etc. those aren’t really freak songs to me.  Maybe they have significance to the DJ and his followers, so maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.  Everyone else was dancing so I’m going to say they liked it.

At any rate, the club violated my Policy.  In order to determine if a club is worth the money, I have this Policy.  For every dollar I spend to get in the club, I must dance one song.  I add five songs if I have a frustrating time trying to find the place or parking.  I don’t really sit down and count how many songs I dance to, but if I notice I’m holding up a wall more than I’m dancing, it’s given the “I should have stayed home and picked lint out of my belly button” rating.

I wound up leaving about an hour after arriving and the thug niggas out front was like, “Why are you leaving?”  I said it sucked and they asked me why.  I told them my reasons and they tried to get me to go into the hip hop joint next door.  Mmm, no, not my style.  The thug niggas say I should come back because Hallowe’en is coming and there will be more freaks and maybe the music might be a little harder and not so gay.  I said I’d think about it.

Tonight may have been a bad night, but then again, if those are the same DJs from Alchemy/Nation/Whatever the chances of improving (at least for me) are Not So Much.  If I happen to be off on a Friday again, I will check it out again after November when they do the 2-room event, Arcadia or whatever he said.  Maybe they will have an industrial room or something.

Thank God for TiVo or this might have been an entirely wasted evening

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