The adventurer that I am, I made my way down to Huntington Beach last night with come comrades. It's is almost Laguna Beach so I figured I could say that I have been to Laguna Beach. Go ahead pull out a map, try to argue with me. Anyway, after two hours, Huntington Beach is not Laguna Beach, or at least not what I see on TV.
We ended up at the Inka Bar. It's a very cool swanky place where E-F listers might hang. It had a groovy bar that was water colored under the glass, which is cool because everyone likes to drink on water. I was cool, acting cool, sipping the beer cool, even taking out my money cool. Apparently, if your rich though and frequenting Huntington Beach, cool is not a necessary quality.
Sight 1) A young man wearing a Huntington Beach shirt. Never wear the shirt of the town you're in. That's no way to get laid.
Sight 2) The Clapper. This is your new nickname a-hole. Instead of talking to chicks with a smooth line, you chose to walk around clapping to the beat of the music...loudly...until they turned and you could give them the 'what's up' nod.
Sight 3) An impromptu dance-off. Never have I witnessed three guys try to outdance each other at a bar to Missy Eliot and Ciara. I guess it's good that some fads never make it all the way across the continent.
In closing, Huntington Beach does not equal Laguna Beach, next time, we spend the extra 20 minutes driving down the PCH to LC's place.
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2 comments:
I hate to break it to you, but the danceoff fad has hit Atlanta and follows in my wake.
I thought I saw one of the final 5 girls from Joe Millionnaire (I can't remember her name)...turned out she only tried out for the show. Next time, I plan on steppping up my game to D-C level star hang outs.
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