Daily Archives: February 8, 2014

Short, Sweet & One Fair Warning


Good evening, beauties!

This is going to be a short one; I’m starting to lose control of my eyelids, and it’s only a matter of time before they close without my permission. Why, you ask? Well… I’m running on about 2 or 3 hours of sleep *gasp*, but it’s entirely my fault so I’m embracing it.
Last night, I went out with a silly crew for a friends birthday, and we spent the large portion of the evening out on the town. Our main destination was Lupo’s Heartbreak Hotel for a concert put on by Umphrey’s McGee or “UM”, an American progressive rock band from Indiana, whose music is often referred to as “progressive improvisation”, or “improg”.

Tickets & A Homemade Juice!

Tickets & A Homemade Juice!

If you’re wondering, it was great! I found a video some lovely person uploaded on youtube already, so please take a few momentos to check it out. They had a great vibe, it was a blast.


After the concert, a few people in our group had the bright idea to go to Club Therapy. Now, I consider myself a pretty open-minded individual, and I can usually have a good time wherever, but THIS PLACE WAS TERRIBLE. Please, please, do not go to Club Therapy if you have any idea of self-worth; at least from what I experienced.
First of all, it cost $25 PER PERSON to get in, which was absolutely ludicrous. I’m a poor post-graduate with student loans to pay and am hanging with college kids, where do you think we get the money to blow on cover charges like that?! Then… they didn’t even serve alcohol. Excuse me? I mean, if you’re going to charge me that much to get in, I expect champagne flutes being passed out, gosh darnit! Or at least PBR’s or something… come on people.

After that let down, I was expecting some entertainment at the absolute minimum, but nope. Wrong again. It was some DJ who wasn’t playing anything attractive or original, and there were about 20-25 people in the whole club, most of which were scantily clad and dancing around like baboons who were given crack. Honestly, I felt like I was in an underground sketchy brothel meeting place. Not about it. Never going again. End of story.

The concert still crushed it, so much so that I will pretend Therapy never happened, and we all went back to my friends to waste the night away, hence my 2 hours of sleep. Darn having to be a real person and work at 1. Whatevs, you only life once!