hell is a nightclub

Okay, analogy time. I have this thing with Mexican food, where I only eat it once or twice a year. Really, I don't like it -- but it's so popular... So what happens is this cycle where I eat it, remember why I hate it, don't have it for months and months and months -- until someone says, "hey, let's go for Mexican!" and I think "well, you know, maybe it won't be that bad..." And then repeat cycle.

Take this and multiply the level of hatred by about 100, and you have how I feel about clubs.

Seriously. EVERY SINGLE TIME I go to a club I leave early because I fucking hate it -- and yet, somehow, people always convince me to go to them again after I've had enough time to forget my loathing for them. Last night was sort of unavoidable because it was for Laura's and Evette's birthdays -- even still, Jenny and I left early, which was good because I got out of there, but bad because it cost me $12 just to go in and then freak out because ohgod5473890532452peopledrunkandshoutingandelbowingme.

Bleh.

Hokay, presentation time. Off to Woodside once again.