To Club-Goers With Their Unhappy Faces On

Occasionally, I’ll put down my pen and glass of bourbon and head for the Avenue for some Whyte night life. There’s nothing quite like waiting outside a club in the Canadian winter for 30 minutes out to consume $6 draft beer and dance a little.

What could be better? Well, there seems to be a growing number of people on the weekends wearing their unhappy faces. These people in the latest styles dancing and drinking while looking as if they just came from a funeral. Don’t worry beautiful sad people, your cat didn’t die in a microwave, your mom still hasn’t found those spring break videos you made after drinking tequila for the first time,  and your boss hasn’t discovered you haven’t finished any work since you’ve started your job. There is no reason to look so upset.

Perhaps some people realize the promise of drunken casual sex and bathroom coke won’t rescue them from themselves, yet continue to engage in the nightlife out of habit. Who knows? Just try to look amused when I throw up on your shoes…

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy

Advertisements

To Paris Hilton’s Liver

I know what you must be thinking, ‘Why Me?’

Well it’s your lucky week, because now that Paris has been caught downing margarita’s and climbing behind the wheel of her Mercedes-Benz, she probably will take it easy for awhile.

Moreover, the booze is probably the least of your worries. It will be the endless parade of multi-coloured pharmaceuticals that marches into her body that will shrivel you into a piece of tough shoe leather. The daily paxil/percocet breakfast combo coupled with the mid-afternoon coccaine/lorazepam snacks will surely do a number on you in a few years.

I’m afraid that once you give on her, she’ll have no choice but to give up on you. Once you cease filtering the bad stuff out, Paris will be on a first class plane to Indonesia for a little transplant tourism. She’ll find another liver. All it takes is a roofie and a greedy surgeon with quick hands and you’re a distant memory. Them’s the breaks when your living in the Hollywood fastlane. There have been far greater casualties, believe me.

Hey, if you want to go for a drink I’m up for it…oh, sorry.

Sincerely,

Fergis T. McGillicuddy