What happens in a club stays in a club.

The mantra for clubbing has always been "What happens in a club stays in a club". Everything goes, as long as when you wake up in the morning, you can live with yourself and what you have done. I mean, there's a reason it's called CLUBBING. and if you can't take the fact that at a club: PEOPLE DANCE. and people drink, well, so sorry to you.

I've always clubbed with friends. I dance with friends. My interaction with other girls at a club (termed picking up girls by the general population) is limited to at most buying a drink for someone at the bar, talking or generally just a spot of dancing before returning to my friends. Sorry, I don't do stands, or handstands or whatever kind of other stands the male human body is capable of.

SO it was kinda pissy, when suddenly, I have a huge posse of people judging my actions in a club. Hello? You don't KNOW me. You see me dance with friends. And you judge. Fine, I can accept the fact that people judge all the time. But when a lame reason such as PROTECTIONISM comes in, that's when I get really pissed off, because frankly, who are you to judge and poke your nose into others? Yeah of course, friends will be friends. But perhaps a better time for protectionism may have come when someone else living in close proximity was screwing over your object of protectionism.

I don't like conflict. But when shit happens, it happens. No point running away from shit hitting the fan. It splatters all over. I just don't like it when shit hits the fan without me knowning that someone has thrown the shit.

Enough said. Pictures! later.

lip
ranting