Sunday, August 8, 2010

Open letter to the patrons of the pub. Sorry, ONE patron of the pub.

Dear girl wearing a maxidress,

The dance floor is for dancing. The bar is for drinking. So are all those tables.

There is a reason people with full glasses lurk at said tables and not upon the dance floor, let alone attempt any movement which may be construed as dancing.

The reason is in your hand, and is rapidly getting emptier. I am rapidly getting wetter.
Not in a good way.

The guy you are 'dancing' with (where dancing may be read as lunging back and forth toward each other in some vague attempt at rhythmic coordination) is correct. Put down the beer glass and then, sure, continue to endanger your own wellbeing by gyrating/lunging/mashing other people's toes in your determined pursuit of "I'm the cool girl who can drink a beer AND dance".

Flinging your hair around will not help. You will only scare off your potential boyfriend by lashing him violently across the face, first with your hair and then your spilt beer.

Oh.
Oh, well done.
No, really.
I mean, it takes skill to drop a glass of beer among enthusiastically dancing people in a pub, in FRANKSTON, and NOT get punched in the face. Did you have to drop the actual glass as well? Next time? Just the beer, thanks. At least that evaporates.

3 comments:

Poppy Gets a Life said...

I remember going to the Prince Alfred pub on Grattan St near Melbourne Uni, and the dance floor would be so sticky that your shoes would almost detach from your feet as you walked! Yucky. But we did have some good times there.

Poppy xox

Damien said...

was she attractive? It makes a big diff weather she was hot or not :)

Anonymous said...

I have to wonder what you were doing in a Frankston pub in the first place? *grins, ducks, runs*