Mother’s Day is coming up and if you’re anything like me, you have no idea what your mum might want to do. Mother’s Day should be about bonding, and what’s a better way to bond then to let your mum into your world and take her for drinks at your local bar or tavern.
The following are tried and tested ways to get yourself kicked out of clubs and bars. In case any prospective employers happen across this article, the following have never happened to me – they happened to my, er, friend.
Some people, it comes naturally. Others… well, a bit of alcohol always helps loosen them up. There’s always some classic dancers that make me have a little giggle on the dance floor. Are you one of them?
When you think about it, nightclubs are where we are at our most animalistic. The d-floor is littered with sweaty, pheromone oozing bodies, gyrating in time with the rhythmic and primal vibrations of drum and bass. We actually go to them in order to attract a mate with the girls showing off a lot of skin and some of the guys acting downright predatory.
So you and your ex divided friends and gave back clothes and wished to never see each other again. Then, oh-oh, suddenly you’re in the same club. Terror. Is it a bad dream? Should I leave? Wait, I’m not leaving. They should be the one to leave. Let’s just pretend they don’t exist and we didn’t notice them but secretly try to show them up. Arrrghh.
Yet another inaugural fail in our series of articles focusing of the alcohol induced stupidity that happens on any good night out on the town. If you want to submit a video, post in on YouTube (as you do) and send the link to matt(at)barsandnightclubs.com.au. Enjoy!
The long running tradition, iconised by the floating head stick figure man and triangle bodied woman symbols, of oppressive toilet gender segregation is corroding. The concept of a unisex toilet is on the rise. Small bars and clubs with only one disabled toilet at all are forced by necessity to accommodate for both genders.
After recently having had to switch to a gluten free diet, I found that I was, quite literally, struggling to hold my drinks after lucky number three. Admittedly, my drinking ability prior to this wasn’t in much better form.
I don’t know if anybody will care about this nor am I particularly confident that sharing this information on an international platform will not result in me never being eligible for legitimate employment, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. After reading this guy’s column on Vice, I’m questioning my life choices.
So you’ve decided to hit the town, it’s a Friday or Saturday night, you’ve had a few drinks and you start flirting with the hot boy/girl at the bar. After a few cheesy one-liners and a few shots later, he/she agrees to go home with you. One thing leads to another and the window to sex is open, the only thing standing in the way…no condom.
