Struggling to watch the Cavs game over a Sunday Funday round of dranks at the local spot, my evening of solitude was ruined by a group of middle aged women having a "Girls night out!!!!". Upon realizing my playoff viewing was doomed, I turned my blogging sights to the nuances of this obnixously rowdy crowd. Here's what I learned:
1) "Girls Night Out" is a phrase reserved for vagina bearing humans born prior to 1977 who cannot dance, love to dance, and are hard pressed to resist a solid karaoke sesh.
2) Goodbye anti-aging cream, hello Fedoras. Middle aged women are thoroughly convinced that a stripey Fedora, sitting jusssst below their eye brow is more than enough to bamboozle the surrounding crowd over the facial evils of passing time.
3) American Idol eat your heart out, these bitches came to shred the karaoke machine with alittle attitude. Outfitted with backup singers, dancers and serving as their own frantic crowd, these B's demand the attention of wierdos and long bearded wine sippers crawling the dive bars on Sunday afternoons everywhere.
4) And last but not least, feuling the entire charade is the lonely dj guy. Of course this dickface is the catalyst behind my distrubed NBA evening to begin with. Handing out booklets of songs to pick and encouraging the Local Spice Girls, don't be fooled, homeboy is NOT out to get laid. Instead, he is totally sold on his Mcjagger cover skillzz and is out to prove it to the world.
Move over Lebron, and watch the fucks out, because these hoes came to "parrrtayyyy".
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