So I wasn’t working this past weekend and got a chance to be “normal” ;) and hang with some of my friends. Hooray! On Friday nite, me and my friend Kellz went out to a club. I put on a dress and heels and we got to the club before it was real packed and set up shop on the first floor by the bar.
The music was great. They were playing a lot of old school hip hop and R&B, some Chaka — a little Tribe. We were having a great time. We even spotted an S-Curl and I made Kellz pretend I was taking a picture of her so old boy wouldn’t know we were clowning him…
After about an hour, we went upstairs to the second level. And as we were standing on the outskirts of the dance floor watching folks get their dance on, I slowly began to realize that I didn’t know any of the music the DJ was playing. You know that “Awwwwww, s—! That’s my joint / Woooooo!” sound that happens right after the DJ plays the first few notes of a club banger??? Well I heard it repeatedly. I saw the hands go up in the air. But I didn’t recognize any of the songs.
How the hell did this happen?
I consciously stopped listening to urban contemporary radio stations several years ago — not because I don’t like hip hop — but because I *do.* And what passes for hip hop and R&B on the radio these days sickens me. I prefer to read reviews and forums, find artists that I like and buy/download their music myself. But even so, the ignorance that floods the airwaves has always found a way to somehow seep into my consciousness. Thru commercials or MTV or something… Last Friday however, I literally knew none of the songs that were played in like a 20-minute period.
What are you supposed to do in a situation like that? Should you just throw your hands up in the air when everyone else does and pretend like you like the raggedy-ass ‘music’ that’s playing (as one friend suggested)? Or do you just acknowledge the fact that you’re over it and look for a comfy seat?
I opted for option #2.
Overall I enjoyed myself that nite but I spent the last half hour we were there texting a friend of mine who was being equally lame at another club.
My how times change…
It’s hard even for me to believe now, but I used to be a PARRRR-TY GURRRRL. There was this club in DC (well it’s still there but nowadays it’s nothing like it used to be) called Republic Gardens. And from the late nineties to about 2001/2002, me and my girlfriends from Howard literally lived in that club. On Wednesday nites they had an open bar, free buffet, comedy night and then a party. (I would go to see the comedy every week. I’ll never forget the time Talent told me I wasn’t funny.Then afterwards he said, I’m kidding, girl. It’s just comedy ;) And on Fridays they just had the food, drinks, and the party. But they would open that club up at 5:30 and we would be right there in line for happy hour. We would be drunk by 6 and be begging the bouncers to close the shutters so we didn’t feel so guilty for being drunk in the daytime. And I promise you when the club closed at 2 a.m. we would still be there. You would have thought we had the keys and had to stay and lock up.
Now when one of my friends convinces me to go out, I wind up staying just long enough *not* to be called a loser. Just how long that is depends on who I’m there with… But it’s never longer than 2 ½ hours. I don’t know if I’ve just gotten progressively lamer with age or whether it’s because I’m out in clubs around music, smoking and liquor so often that on my nites off, I just want to chill… but I am soooo over the club scene. I can do a cool bar or lounge every now and then but that’s about it.
Are any of you guys going thru this? Please say yes. I need some empathy STAT!!! ;)
Your lame-ass comedian friend, Erin