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So there you are throwing your hands in the air, jumping up and down, and wearing a hilariously self-referencing ironic t-shirt. Oh yeah, you've completely sold out now baby.
The girl with the mousy hair has called me up and asked me out to a gig at the town's main dive - The Club Esoteric.
I bet no one here even knows what "esoteric" means. I bet they all think it's some amusing play on the word "erotic" that they don't quite get.
Oh yes, mousy hair girl is throwing me some shapes now.
Is this the beginning of true love?
Or was she just sitting at home, drinking brandy, contemplating suicide, when, in a final act of desperation, she decided to call me and ask me if I'd like to spend a happy evening out?
Happy evenings out never work.
I bet by the end of the night she'll realize how horrifically unattractive I am and end up crying in the toilets.
God, I just hope she's on drugs.
That will ease her pain, and maybe make her happy and horny enough to fuck me before she kills herself.
Man, I love nightclubs.
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