So last night we went to Hemmingways. For those who don’t live in Jersey, Hemmingways is a Restaurant and Bar by day and a night club on Friday and Saturday nights.

There are two insights that have come out of this evening at Hemmingways:

One, I have not been privy to the location where they sell the hooker uniforms. And that includes the shoes of course! It completely escapes me why you would go to the bar with the intention to dance and then wear the most ridiculous heels possible. These girls are all running around the bar full of intoxicated men in what appears to be a long shirt. I can already hear the postmortem at the breakfast table; “I really don’t understand why these guys think they can put their hand up my skirt at the bar?” (In the snottiest voice you can think of.) Ladies, if you walk around the bar with your (as my husband likes to say) “junk” hanging out then guys are going to take advantage. And as Dave Chappelle says, “You may not be a whore, but your wearing a whore’s uniform”.

And, two, I am too damn old to be sitting around the club watching these stupid kids drink too damn much and fall out of their clothes. I’ve graduated to hanging out at my local bar and not putting on two pounds of makeup to have a couple drinks with my hubby and my friends. I am not sure if my upcoming mile-marker of a birthday is what has changed this or if its just the natural progression of having a good time but I believe it has officially happened! I just have no urge to rub up against stupid, drunk strangers anymore. I am going to assume this is a good thing and be very happy about it!

I do have to give a shout out to my fun clubbing years of the past though. We had a million great nights dancing and having fun and I will always remember them fondly. (While still being grateful for my new found lack of interest.)

Thanks for reading!