12 February 2012

No need 4 I.D security knowz me, lolz jkz, OBL.

So, standard alt night out. Denim jacket's out, cross earrings, and doc martens to feel relevant and luved in this harsh wurld. We venture to the 'hip' 'cool' 'trendy' area of Shoreditch.
OBL. Ol' Blue, Old Blu Lahst, Or plain old 'oh b L'. This pub is the hub 4 all hipsters, and people to do with Vice. They throw some pretty good gigs/events. Been there before and made fwendz, we thought, with the bodyguardz. We got a bit cocky and bragged about this, taking pictures, posting on myspace, flickr, twitter, google, tumblr (COOOL!!!!!!!)))). Despite our friends anxiety about not getting in, we assured them with 'Nah m8 dw da security knows us, lyk U may not get in, but WE will.' So we get there, and they're all Bless xoxoxo about us going in. It's some moshpit in there- literally stampeed of old men in pointy shoes with beards and button up tops (sw00n)!. We kinda give a smirk, like 'yh yh we got in here, we knw this joint, sfe sfe xoxo'. We go to the toilets, do a shit, and get back up there. I text my friend 'WE GOT IN!!! WOOOOOOOOOOO. YEAH BBZ.' If this wasn't cool enough, we bring them in and they don't get in, due to not having I.D. We're beggin, pleadin', willing to fla$h titz just to live the indie VIP lifestyle, but no. They don't let us in. Nope. So we go to try to get into Cargo. Fail again. AWKS. We pull out a rollup, start tokiNG up so we seem 'older' 'wizer' 'stronger' 'faster' 'better' hold tyt Kanye.
There's some band who look 12 years old, one lookS albino with braces. Bless him though he was cute. There music was quite good, and we were the only ones dancing. To our right were some fucking Made In Chelsea tryhards with gelled hair slicked back with headbands, grinding on their Sloaney long haired gfs. PDA MUCH BBZ. LEAVE. DPMO.
We go out because the ambience got too heated and we needed a quick ciggy bweak. We get outside, and I swear I saw flashes of bodyguards, MandMs and walky talkies. 'Oi listen, yh, where R ur I.DS', the one bodyguard says, whilst munching on some coloured m&ms. HARD. I whip out mine, feeling sxc and free (jessie j) lols. He asks for the rest of ours and we endlessly made excuses 'listen, I liv in Brighton so, lyk I forgot my I.D, come on m8 giv us a break.' We also said we had evidence of knowing him, and got out the picture of him pouting with us. B8ED. B8ED. He kinda went red and said gigglin' with an m&m stuck in his tooth "is dat me"? As if he looked really fit, and wanted some compliments.. awkwaaarrrdd.
In the end, the walky talky was whipped out '4111' 'HELLO CAN U HEAR ME?? I AM WITH THE TWO GIRLS. LISTEN THERE ARE TWO MANY MEN IN HERE, CAN WE LET DEM IN?" What is this place? The fucking Ritz Carlton? Outrageous yo.
OLD BLUE LAST , MORE LIKE, this is the LAST time your and your BLUE M&Ms will be seeing us anywhere near OLD street.

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