So it occurred to me last week as I was queuing up at the old "inc club" at the O2 that this life is no longer for me. Not life in general, because that would be suicide. I mean this so-called "raving" lifestyle that so many people my age are on. My dear friend Nicole (gotta love 'er), text me about two weeks prior to the event saying "Lydz there's one rave called Takeover happening at the O2, let's go", or something along those lines. My initial answer was "No." Just a straight up "No." Just, "No.". I really wasn't in the mood for shaking a leg, but when she text back saying "We're all going, Chloe's coming too", I changed my mind. Before we go any further, Chloe is not my lesbian crush okay. She's one of my closest friends from secondary school and prior to the "Takeover", I hadn't seen her since New Years, so I couldn't decline the invitation could I? So slightly swayed, however, still rather reluctant, I text back saying "Okay. I'll go". And that was that.
So the day arrived, and still feeling a little reluctant I decided to drag on the first thing I could find.
Point of digression: I lied. I didn't drag on the first thing I could find. To complicate things and piss me off even more 'Elite Entertainment' decided to call Takeover the "all white affair". I mean, really? Be serious. Nevertheless, I bought a nice white top from ASOS.com. Whilst writing this blog entry I tried to get a picture of the top to show you guys but the link failed me. So you'll just have to envision "a nice white top". I wore it with jeggings and some gladiator heels. End of digression.
So my mum dropped me to my friend's house, we then went to meet Chloe and then we made our way to the station to catch the tube to North Greenwich. Usually at this point the excitement would have kicked in; but I felt nothing. We got off the tube, tapped out and made our way into the O2. When we got there, the queue was abysmal. What's worse, why did my friends and I look like we were the oldest there? This was an 18+ event. I'm just 19, I should not be looking like Nana Alberta. And I have a baby face. While queuing I thought you know what? I'm so over this. The young bucks were just expressing more excitement than what was acceptable for this event really. I thought to myself "Nah Lydz, allow them", but then I thought "No, I was never like this.". It was so obvious that for the majority in that queue and venue, this would have been their first rave and night out. The evidence being that one girl was wearing a birthday badge labelled '18!', which terribly clashed with her already terrible ensemble. Ick.
We finally got in, deposited our jackets in the cloakroom and headed for the bar. You know what I ordered. Disaronno and Cranberry. Had to get some drink down me because it was gonna be a long night. As I sipped on my drink, the DJ started spinning Trey Songz's "Say Aah", I danced a lil and started to enjoy myself a bit more - but we soon went to find a seat.
And that's where I stayed.
Joke. I danced to the occasional catchy song, but to be quite honest, I spent most of my night sitting down when I could. I just wasn't up for it. I thought I would never say it, but I think it's getting to the point where I'm beginning to dislike raving. It's too much effort. Not that I dislike getting dolled up, coz I don't. But it's the excited youth with their so-called "skanking" and "daggering". What the actual hell. When the bashment popped off it was literally like you were strolling down the flippin' gaza strip, Kingston, Jamaica. Don't piss me off. From when your passport is green and your name is Olufemi Adedeji. You just don't know init. Not to mention the girls. One girl was so excited she nearly made me spill my drink coz she was skanking so hard with some any Jerome. The way I almost slapped her. Had to keep my composure. Those who know me know I'm quite calm, that's how you know I was really pissed off. Moreover, the exposure of Arse Crevice was overwhelming. I wear short dresses occassionally, the main aim being to show off me pins. However these girls wanted to show arse. No. Like. ACTUAL ARSE. These dresses were so short they were non-existent. You. Look. Like. A. Slag. Simples. Put on some clothes girl. No one wants to see your batty chasm. Get gone.
Seriously, I could not wait to leave. I was secretly praying in my head that there would be beef so it could get locked off. I'm not saying I won't go to the occasional rave, but I'm done with these bait raves. Namely, these FACEBOOK raves. You see everyone and their mum there. I really don't feel like seeing your mum init. Just. Please. I'm not interested. I'd much rather go to a nice bar or a private party, or a 21+. I am so done with 18 and over. In fact, I'm so done I need a new word for it.
Rant over.
So the day arrived, and still feeling a little reluctant I decided to drag on the first thing I could find.
Point of digression: I lied. I didn't drag on the first thing I could find. To complicate things and piss me off even more 'Elite Entertainment' decided to call Takeover the "all white affair". I mean, really? Be serious. Nevertheless, I bought a nice white top from ASOS.com. Whilst writing this blog entry I tried to get a picture of the top to show you guys but the link failed me. So you'll just have to envision "a nice white top". I wore it with jeggings and some gladiator heels. End of digression.
So my mum dropped me to my friend's house, we then went to meet Chloe and then we made our way to the station to catch the tube to North Greenwich. Usually at this point the excitement would have kicked in; but I felt nothing. We got off the tube, tapped out and made our way into the O2. When we got there, the queue was abysmal. What's worse, why did my friends and I look like we were the oldest there? This was an 18+ event. I'm just 19, I should not be looking like Nana Alberta. And I have a baby face. While queuing I thought you know what? I'm so over this. The young bucks were just expressing more excitement than what was acceptable for this event really. I thought to myself "Nah Lydz, allow them", but then I thought "No, I was never like this.". It was so obvious that for the majority in that queue and venue, this would have been their first rave and night out. The evidence being that one girl was wearing a birthday badge labelled '18!', which terribly clashed with her already terrible ensemble. Ick.
We finally got in, deposited our jackets in the cloakroom and headed for the bar. You know what I ordered. Disaronno and Cranberry. Had to get some drink down me because it was gonna be a long night. As I sipped on my drink, the DJ started spinning Trey Songz's "Say Aah", I danced a lil and started to enjoy myself a bit more - but we soon went to find a seat.
And that's where I stayed.
Joke. I danced to the occasional catchy song, but to be quite honest, I spent most of my night sitting down when I could. I just wasn't up for it. I thought I would never say it, but I think it's getting to the point where I'm beginning to dislike raving. It's too much effort. Not that I dislike getting dolled up, coz I don't. But it's the excited youth with their so-called "skanking" and "daggering". What the actual hell. When the bashment popped off it was literally like you were strolling down the flippin' gaza strip, Kingston, Jamaica. Don't piss me off. From when your passport is green and your name is Olufemi Adedeji. You just don't know init. Not to mention the girls. One girl was so excited she nearly made me spill my drink coz she was skanking so hard with some any Jerome. The way I almost slapped her. Had to keep my composure. Those who know me know I'm quite calm, that's how you know I was really pissed off. Moreover, the exposure of Arse Crevice was overwhelming. I wear short dresses occassionally, the main aim being to show off me pins. However these girls wanted to show arse. No. Like. ACTUAL ARSE. These dresses were so short they were non-existent. You. Look. Like. A. Slag. Simples. Put on some clothes girl. No one wants to see your batty chasm. Get gone.
Seriously, I could not wait to leave. I was secretly praying in my head that there would be beef so it could get locked off. I'm not saying I won't go to the occasional rave, but I'm done with these bait raves. Namely, these FACEBOOK raves. You see everyone and their mum there. I really don't feel like seeing your mum init. Just. Please. I'm not interested. I'd much rather go to a nice bar or a private party, or a 21+. I am so done with 18 and over. In fact, I'm so done I need a new word for it.
Rant over.
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