You are in a place that's no bigger than a doctor's waiting room, it's packed to the door, elbow to elbow, there is a wannabe DJ ditching any single track he can get his hands on as long as it's got bass, doesn't matter if there is no room to dance either way...There are so many smokers and so little ventilation that I feel like Frodo crossing to Mordor in Lord of the Rings...I have just repeated the same sentence for the 5th time with the girl on the bar chair next to me shouting "what?" with a look of despair on her face...I got my hand on an over-iced, under-saturated glass of Margarita and I am supposed to be shaking my head to "the beat of the rhythm of the night"...
now do I need to ask if YKWIH?
I hate people who will call me names like ...old...party-spoiler... Grinch...narrow-minded...and all the sweet little pet-names that they can dish out..simply because their underdeveloped adulthood is still struggling with their over prolonged puberty...
No, I am not interested...and don't call me up next time...and yes I am a grumpy smurf come to life...Deal with it...
