Mona and Gresa’s birthday party was last night and it was good times because Mona and Gresa are amazing and everyone was fucking wasted. Now that I’m sober though I’ve realized I’m never going to Lot 332 ever fucking again.
It was a total sausagefest and a fucking deformed sausagefest at that. They only let moderately overweight bros in. This one guy was grinding a counter the whole night. Also their business practice is absolute shit. They varied the cover from minute to minute. We were all on the guestlist, but when we got there they basically said fuck you and made us all pay. I could deal with that if it wasn’t for the fact that they made Tori pay $10, me pay $15 and Tori’s friend pay $20. Then Chelsey showed up an hour later and told them she was on the guestlist and didn’t have to pay at all.
I went in after two girls with terrible fakes that said they were 22 and 25, respectively, who didn’t get shit at all, and when I hand the bouncer my I.D. he looks at me and says “Seriously?” Don’t you give me an incredulous look you fourth grade educated motherfucker. Its not my fault your ghetto ass has never been outside Peel region. Be thankful as the result of some sort of genetic mutation probably related to your unwed teenage mother’s crack habit that you’re built like a motherfucking Hutt and thus able to enjoy a temporary position of power.
I woke up at noon and watched videos of raccoons on YouTube for a couple hours, ate a giant bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and have spent my day waiting for dinner.