My half-yearly club trip to SF

I am not the club type person. The last time I intentionally went to a club because I really wanted to was when I was a drunken moron in college. Lately, I go to clubs, bars or lounges for special occasions such as a visit from an out of town guest, fashion show after party where they are giving out free shit or, in this weekend’s case, loved one’s birthday.

I ventured to a club in SF (who’s name I will keep hush-hush to save its dignity) for my sister’s birthday. Right of the bat, the DJ sucked. I don’t drink, so the music has to be really good at a club for me to enjoy myself – that and the company. The company was great, but the music was a big pile of doo doo. Sure, I everyone loves a great remix to “Like a Prayer,” but give me some ass jiggling freak nasty music that I can pop my booty to.

Then there was the crowd. Is it wrong that this club was blatantly the hub for unattractive people that evening? And we just happened to take a wrong turn. I mean, my crowd was the hottest group of people in there – with the exception of me. I was kind of busted so maybe I fit in.

Anyways, I don’t know if times have changed since I was a big ol’ club whore, but there were so many girls who looked like they should be wearing clear heels and turning tricks on a brass pole – but that’s just the beginning. The guys were ultimately the winners of unnecessary clothing that night.

I recently read an article in this month’s Details titled “Are You That Guy?”

And when they say that guy, they are referring to that guy – you know, the one who thinks he’s really cool because he puts his kid in Che Guevara shirts and says stuff like “I need my Starbucks ASAP” whilst wearing his shirt half tucked and a pair of Crocs.

This had to be one of the best pieces ever written in the mag. It basically defined 90 percent of the guys at the club. From the list of “that guy” annoying antics in the article (click the link above to read it), I spotted these while I was at the club:

- Fist bumps
- The phrase, “My Bad” was used
- People outside of the club offering money for a cigarette
- A wardrobe that consists of a “going out shirt” and “fancy” sneakers
- Guys who thought Hayden Panettiere is hot (okay, this may not have been an obvious “that guy” giveaway at the club, but I could picture SO many guys in the club saying this accompanied with a fist bump.)
- I am SURE there were guys in that club who would claim that they didn’t know who Spencer Pratt is
- Guys with half-tucked shirts
- White dudes with a tattoo in Asian lettering
- There was a rampant Bluetooth epidemic

There were a couple of things left off of this list that I would like to add on. Hopefully the Details editor will casually stumble upon this blog and say, “Hey! This guy is good! He needs to be writing for us!”

But here are some things that I saw last night that need to be added on to this “that guy” list:

- Guys who wear sunglasses inside a dark club – or indoors in general
- Guys who wear really ugly fedoras which don’t make them look dapper, but like a Cuban drug lord
- Groups of guy friends that look like a male version of Destiny’s Child, wearing the same thing but in different variations (i.e. boot cut denim, “fashion” sneakers, and vintage fit screenprint tees).
- Guys with huge unnecessary belt buckles, like a skull or something obnoxiously novel
- Guys who wear wife beaters and paper boy caps
- Guys who mouth the words to every single song that the lame DJ plays and makes overly-animated facial expressions whilst doing so

I am sure I am missing some characteristics, but you get the picture in who “that guy” is…

I did have a good time last night because it was a great opportunity to people watch and to witness my cousin’s gal pal almost get into a fight TWICE – once with a dude. She is gangsta.

From here on out, I am approaching these rare club going trips as anthropological studies.

But there was one thing that made this club well worth my time. As the designated driver, I had to drive my sister and brother-in-law home. I was overjoyed when, out of no where, my sister mumbled from the backseat to pull over so that she could throw up. And while doing so, the song “Weak” by SWV was playing.

It was the end to the most eventful evening I had in a while…Happy Birthday sister!