I hate getting ready for the club--it’s one of my pet peeves. It’s like you try and decide what to wear and take a shower and throw on cologne and everything, but then you’re in a dark club where everyone is drunk and no one notices anything anyways. I feel like I'm getting ready for the bouncer and the doorman. As long as they like what I'm wearing, I can get in the club. Once I'm in, no one cares about what I'm wearing. On Friday night I ironed my shirt then sat down on the couch and it was wrinkled again. I hate that. I might as well just keep my clothes in a big pile on the floor of my room. Wait, never mind…my clothes actually are in a big pile on the floor in my room. I wonder if I can patent that as some type of invisible closet. Hmm…
We planned to leave the house around 9:30 p.m. because we had to pick up one of our boy’s and were meeting Big Bank Frank, Jay, Alon and M.Lee at the club. With seven guys and no girls, we definitely needed to get their on time although we had some connections and Big Bank Frank was planning to get a bottle or two in the V.I.P. We didn’t leave until 10:15 and got to Hollywood at about 10:45 p.m. We parked in some bootleg parking spot under a makeshift awning that we decided was the designated celebrity V.I.P. It went from “I’m not parking under that,” to “Man, these chick’s are lovin’ the V.I.P. parking spot!” in three minutes. I guess that’s how we justify paying $15 for parking.
Even though we were 45 minutes late, Big Bank Frank and the boys weren’t there yet because they were stuck in that good 101 weekend night traffic. There is nothing worse then going out and getting stuck in traffic and the 101 is the official buzz kill of a night out in L.A. However, M.Lee had been at the club since 10 p.m. and was waiting in line the whole time. The bad part about this is that we didn’t have to wait in line because we knew the promoter. So everyone made fun of him for waiting in line the whole time, which sucks for him because he was the only one that was on time. We got inside the club and it was not looking good at all. There were two females (I think of the Hippopotamus species) that were giving each other lap dances. I hadn’t had a drink yet, but I was getting that dizzy feeling that you get right before you throw up. Luckily I was able to hold it in and eventually blocked them out of my vision, although the image of two 535-pound women grinding on each other has been etched into my mind forever. I will never recover and this will ruin many nights for me when an uncontrollable moment of Déjà vu occurs.
Personally, I was pretty unhappy early because between my boy and I we had had a few conversations on where to go out and apparently where we were (the Vine Street Lounge) was supposed to be the best. Early on the forecast was looking stormy. In the first 25 minutes there, I counted approximately two hippos, three Kling-Ons, one Ewok and zero cute girls…plus our friends still hadn’t shown up.
Finally Big Bank Frank, Jay, and Alon arrived and things definitely got better. We took a table in the V.I.P. and started drinking Grey Goose and Cranberry and were given some V.I.P. bands to give to girls to come hang out with us or drink or whatever. This was good because I had seen some friends of mine when we were on our way up to the tables (which were upstairs looking down on the dance floor and bars).
Once we had our drinks, we proceeded to get drunk and every fifteen minutes more and more people filtered into the V.I.P, mostly girls and mostly good looking. There should definitely be an academic study on how the fine girls always end up in V.I.P. and the rest are left in the other part of the club. I’m usually not in V.I.P. so maybe this is something I should take a long, hard look at. V.I.P.: 30 girls, all good looking. Club dance floor: Two escaped hippos putting on a lesbian show for all to see. I’m a big nature lover but this was not my night to do the animal planet thing, although I may have spotted a new species near the women’s restroom.
Actually, that reminds me. My boy and I are walking around the club. I spot a cute girl and point her out to him. He starts talking to her and I go to the bathroom. I come back out and he tells me that she goes to USC (I went to USC) and I was like, “Cool, what’s your major?” She says “Law” and I was like “Let’s go dog. That is not a major.” The next day I had to confirm this with someone else that went to USC with me and USC does not have a law major. Girls, get your lies right if you’re going to tell them.
I know I was drunk because I was dancing a lot and I hate dancing. I sweat, I have minimal rhythm (I just grind, I don’t even two-step, that’s too much work) and I would rather just watch a girl dance. But it is what it is and I think I had a good one with me to dance with. On a similar note, there was some guy dancing like a girl gone wild on our table and Frank told him to get away from the table and stop dancing like a girl and he got pissed and was telling Frank he’s a blood from Vegas and he’ll see him outside. Frank was laughing at him and the night went on.
I think we were all pretty good and gone and KK was even getting gamed up by some chick from Bakersfield. To his credit, she was pretty fine. To her credit, she actually had him asking us if we could go to Bakersfield after the club. Sure, it's only two hours away and we're all pissy drunk. Plus her friends look like they've failed at life.
Eventually after six drinks and a lot of dancing and sweating, the lights came on and the club was over. We were filtering out on our own little recruiting missions when I ran into my boy Tweez and asked him if he’d seen Frank. He told me he just saw Frank outside about to get into a fight. Then why the hell did Tweez come back inside? I have no clue. I left the girls I was talking to and went outside to see Frank was getting ready to leave and did not appear to be in any type of confrontation, but I was wrong. The same guy that was dancing on our table (who was about 5”9’ – 170) was yelling at Frank telling him he was going to follow him home and rob him of everything he had. Frank was still laughing.
I told Frank I would meet him at the house and he started walking up the block. I noticed that the Vegas Blood who was yelling at him started following behind Frank by about 10 feet. So I started following him by about 10 feet. Eventually I caught up to Frank and told them that Vegas Blood was following them, apparently trying to creep on them. Now before I go into the next part of this story, let me just remind you who Jay is. Jay is the cat that was at Big Bank Frank’s De La Hoya/Mayweather party and exposed J.Ho after two hours, then proceeded to take two other girls into the hot tub by himself while the rest of us went on the limo ride. He is a beast. He will now be referred to as Jay the Beast.
So as soon as I tell them that Vegas Blood is hiding behind the parking lot pay kiosk, Jay the Beast goes around the kiosk and ends up finding Vegas Blood. Jay tells the Vegas Blood if he’s gonna do something, do it. Vegas Blood is yelling about how he’s from Vegas and he’ll fight anyone, we don’t know him, etc. Jay the Beast immediately grabs Vegas Blood by the throat (with one hand) and slams him against the parking lot kiosk. A couple random guys break it up a little and Vegas Blood throws his best punch and hits Jay the Beast directly in his chin. I don’t think Jay the Beast even felt it. He didn’t budge. His head didn’t even turn when he was hit. He actually cracked a smile. I have never seen this happen before and now I went from being worried about Vegas Blood to being worried for Vegas Blood. It was similar to how our parking spot went from the “Why the fuck do we have to park under that dirty awning” to “we are celebrity V.I.P. parking under that protective awning” in three minutes.
Luckily for Vegas Blood, two of his boys showed up to calm him down. I guess he could even say that he ended a fight with one punch, but there are a few of us who know what really happened.
I’ll write about the rest of the weekend (My worst nightmare: hot tub with three girls…nine coronas, ten redbulls in two hours: it can be done…) tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
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