So yesterday started out like any other day. Wake up late. Go to breakfast. Swipes on swipes on swipes. Take care of personal hygiene type things (Yeah right). Play basketball with HPC (You're kidding right?). Study for finals (No seriously, you're killing me here). Watch Friends (the Baby Got Back episode of course). And boom. Successful day. But what awaited us last night was awesome of epic proportions that not even we foresaw. And that's a LOT of awesome.
So Liz gets back from her phamily dinner and we get edgy (which is basically like getting ready but for totally awesome/edgy people like us who wear black nail polish and kick ass). Might we add that Liz is so hilariously underage that she had to get a fake ID to prove that she was 18, because in reality she's just a tot who needs to borrow identification from a very helpful Big Sister (Thanks Katie!) And so the night begins. We had heard of what was supposed to be a totally raging awesome dance disco party at this place in downtown Columbia, so we head out for the night with our glittery eyelids and our boots that were made for walking.
Now lets be real here for a second, this totally raging awesome dance disco party turns out to be located at what outwardly looks like a sketchy-as-fuck hipster metropolis. But since we're young and we're black and our hats are real low (catch that reference!?), we pay the man at the door and get our hands marked with 2 obnoxious "3"s that looked a lot like "E"s. So basically the bouncer is psychic/we're tight with the management. Okay so not really, but we're going to be DJ's there some day anyway, so what's the difference?
Next, we find a cozy little booth and commence texting out friends seeing if there were other parties happening. Considering this semi-empty room wasn't looking promising, we sat in our usual awkward as balls state waiting on the world to change. Then, the unbelievable happened. Less than 5 minutes after we sat down, two creepy as fuck older guys come up and ask if they can buy us a drink. Now we like our boys a little bit older, but consider the following descriptions: One was balding so he was wearing a hat, AND had a serious beer belly going on. The other looked like a 12 year old who was trying to impress Ke$ha: short, skinny and unshaven. AND he was wearing a fucking flat bill. If you think that two unbelievably gorgeous chicks like us are going to accept drinks from sick fucks like you, you have another thing coming.
Meanwhile, back in hipster mania, we followed up on our Friday night tradition of meeting drunk chicks who want to party with us. Let's set the record straight here: If people come up to Team NonSluts and ask us if we want to start a dance party, we are going to take them up on that offer. It's totally raging awesome dance disco parties that we live for after all. So these chicks had obviously pregamed and were approximately three shots past tipsy when we ventured out together onto the sad empty dance floor. We started the night off right and showed off our classy badass moves. Needless to say, we had followers last night. Unsurprisingly, people followed us out onto the floor and imitated our sweet moves. We even came up with our own routine which we plan on whipping out in the future when the occasion arises. It includes but is not limited to some pancake flips, vogue-ing, and hardcore attitude. Also the regular DJ at Dirty Disco is Asian and this made our night. God, we're diverse.
So the evening progressed and more hipsters joined us on the dance floor (no need for evacuation). And we came to find that Dirty Disco for all its advertised glory was a hotspot for lesbian interaction. Now don't get me wrong, we are all for lesbians. We do live in the bra burning dorm after all. But for the Friday before finals, it was a bit much for our naive and sheltered minds. So much butchness happening. So much awkward dancing. So many skinny jeans, so many bottles of PBR. We were in over our heads to say the least. As the dance party became more and more crowded, we came to a very important realization: Dirty Disco is an event in which one much be completely out of their minds schwasted to enjoy. And we were not. That was our first problem. Our second problem was the fact that we are not hipsters in the slightest. We don't have time for that shit and basically we don't understand their ways. So as we were dancing our asses off in a room full of them, we were a bit out of place and the hipster vibe radiating off every person there became too much for us to handle. Our bodies went into Hipster-Overload and we had to get out.
And get out we did. Very conveniently enough, El Rancho (a mexican munchies restaurant known for its clientele of stoners and drunks) was located right next door. Go us. So we hit that shit up and we came to find out exactly why it is so perfect for when you are slightly (or not so slightly) inebriated. Basically, the proportions are HUGE. As in the burritos are the size of a human head and the nachos are served on a platter. So Liz admitted defeat of her monster-sized burrito and I attempted to tackle nachos that could feed a small country and we called it a day. You amaze us, El Rancho.
We froze our asses off on the walk home, but holy hell was it worth it. Hipster mania and Mexican food galore rocked our world and we even made it home by 12:30. SOBER! We had shit to do today! We are so awesome. Sorry we're not sorry that God unevenly distributed the awesome and it looks like we got more than you. Good day.
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