all they do is win…and lie…

This past weekend, I found myself out amongst the bright lights of LA’s nightlife and I experienced something for the very first time. No Stacy Dash didn’t kidnap me and whisk me off to her slayer lair (there is always this weekend right?). But instead I was brave enough to man the LA scene sober. I know it is very disappointing and I apologize for my transgression. Who creates a blog titled Us, Bottles and Friends and then comes back with a story heavy on the us and friends but nan drop of bottles or their delicious contents? I must do better.

However, this new experience did show me something I had to that moment never witnessed in any of my stand on couches, take off one too many articles of clothing, ingest copious amounts of alcohol into my bloodstream while drinking my drinks via my clothing moments (it is a tough life but someone has to do it). I witnessed a sad sight that needs to be corrected instantly.

Before I share this sight, I need to set the scene (I’d tell you to close your eyes but the audio version of ubf isn’t quite ready for primetime so imagine your eyes were closed as you read). Since the collaboration of hip and hop, there has always been that one banger (translation for the older readers: highly enjoyable tune) that seems to take the crowd to unseen heights for that particular evening. Evidently for this summer one of those bangers happens to be DJ Khaled’s All I Do is Win. Even the dramatically rhythm challenged raise up out of their seats to get it in the minute the intro for this song begins to play.

On this night of sobriety, the summer banger hit the spot at approximately 12:07am which in LA signifies the moment that enough of the cool kids have made their fashionably late arrival, the tables have received their first round of over priced bubbly (from a place the table renter has never been) with accompanying sparklers, the drunk guy bumping into your lady friend has been asked to leave via the wall of a man they call a bouncer and the west coast set (featuring Tupac, Dre, Snoop and Too Short songs from the ‘90s) is approximately 30 minutes away. As DJ Khaled and his group of colleagues began their respective verses on the numerous ways they are in fact winning (for example: 20 bank accounts – seems redundant but who am I to judge), I took inventory of the room as everyone in the spot felt the urge to corroborate with Mr. Khaled’s highly efficient winning percentage. While my normal inebriated alter ego (drunk onetrik) would have been right there with the crowd hands waving in the air, my lack of goodtimes juice made me realize that I was bearing witness to a sham. It is highly unlikely that all the event attendees participate in said winning all the time. I’d venture a guess that many were not even winning at the time the banger was playing.

So obviously there is widespread confusion related to what encompasses winning and not winning (we won’t call it what it really is…*cough* losing *cough*). Before this sober thing gets old, I decided to compile a travel size list of characteristics/scenarios that might point to your lack of winning. If any of the following apply, feel free to locate your nearest pocket and occupy it with your hands the next time DJ Khaled comes on:

+ if on a given night you have to choose between buying A drink and parking the car, you should probably use DJ Khaled’s voice as an indicator of needing to take time to converse with the bathroom attendant to avoid any confusion with his song because you are not winning…

+ if you are paying for entry or beverages with any coin denomination, you should stop raiding your little sister’s piggy bank because you are not winning…

+ if your numerous requests to rub private parts with all of the ladies on the dance floor (not just the stuck up ones…yes I’m talking about you) have been unsuccessful, you should take your halitosis and your two step to a private corner because you are not winning…

+ if your idea of acquiring adequate thirst relief is an empty cup and VIP-hawking, you are the hoochie equivalent of the guy outside the club (with an empty cup) asking for spare change because you are not winning…

+ if your homie’s ability to play a sport and receive ridiculous amounts of associated perks is your reason for being here, you better hope he limits his Braylon Edwards activities to the dougie otherwise your meal ticket will become more of a lunchable because you are not winning…

Am I just late and the rest of you already made this sober observation? What else belongs on this list?

And for those concerned readers, no worries as I’ll be back to my inebriated self this weekend. Cheers.

onetrik…doesn’t blend so perfectly without the liquor to tell it…


About usbottlesandfriends
The tales of unpredictable truths from those guys your mom warned you about.

4 Responses to all they do is win…and lie…

  1. TT says:

    I had to read your second paragraph like 5 times before it actually made sense to me grammatically…

    And I actually like that banger too! If I wasn’t such a loser, I would have been at said function with you observing my fellow loser pals….Come on, you didn’t feel the urge to throw your hands in the air, and stay there??

  2. minnie6998 says:

    Why the hell were you sober? Was waiting for that to revealed at any moment in the post. Please tell me you were the designated driver or something?

  3. JQ says:

    If you are a fella who’s games is solely buying drinks for any woman that will stick around long enough for (1) initial eye contact, (2) “yes, I’ll take a ____” and (3) “oh, there are my friends… bye!” then you sir are not winning. You’d be better investing your $15 per drink, per woman on a season of mad men, a subscription to GQ, some gear and a bottle of liquid courage…

    If you are a woman (1) who’s best characteristics are not observable in a club, (2) you perpetually complain about the lack of men out there, but (3) you wear flat shoes/unflattering clothing/a scowl, you are not only NOT winning, but you are in fact losing to yourself.

  4. Pingback: ubf and 2010 walk into a bar… « Us, Bottles, and Friends

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