Wednesday, November 2, 2011

You's a Drrryyy Snitch

So this weekend I was visiting my girlfriend in San Francisco for Halloween. We wanted to get our dance on so we decided to hit up the Castro District aka The most FABULOUS gay area evahhh. Anyways what had happened was....we had gone out for coffee that morning and there's really no way to sugarcoat was our gateway drink to cocktails. It's really simple math, our coffee got cold which reminded us that cocktails were cold and 12 hours later we find ourselves dressed in our Halloween finest dancing in a club full of sweaty guys who could give a shit about us. Perfect!

So there we are watching a male go go dancer in an assless Robin costume dance on top of a bar and my girlfriend and I are in full dance pants mode to my favorite Britney Spears jam when this black guy in a trench coat, do-rag and a Louis Vuitton handbag stuffed inside of a Victoria's Secret shopping bag comes up with his head moving side to side like a cobra pointing at us and says "You's a drrryyy snitch". We didn't even know what to get hung up on, the fact that he said You's or wtf a dry snitch was? We literally had to stop dancing to Urban Dictionary* that shit. Came the fuck up as you'd expect.

*dry snitching:
To indirectly tell secrets or offenses to a person of authority or any person meant to be kept away from a secret or offense, sometimes inadvertently.
If the telling of secrets or offenses is purposeful, minute details are usually left out as not to appear to be directly telling.
It is indirectly snitching.

Black guy in a trench coat? Unexpected. You should have seen my girlfriend and I standing there trying to take it all in. Token black black guy.....token gay black guy in a trench coat??....and IF we are in fact a dry snitch then is there also a wet snitch? Deep thoughts for the inebriated.

This guy had set his bag on top of the controller for the lights to the entire club. Out of his purse (not a satchel, not a murse, his fucking purse) he pulls out a hand full of receipts, a full bottle of Merlot and one single blue latex glove. When he went to lift his bag he hit a switch and turned on all of the lights to the club at 11:52pm. Everyone stopped dancing and looked around trying to figure out why the lights were on so early. An employee finally came over and figured out the problem. Apparently Lil Miss....ter Trench Coat blamed us for telling through osmosis since we happened to be standing next to him the whole time. Little did he know that we had left for coffee that morning and 19 margarita's later we ended up there and when he turned on the lights we stopped drinking our vodka based hydration long enough to debate time travel. IF our drinks were still full AND our watch said midnight...BUT the lights were on....what was right? was this the weekend for time change? did we have to go home? would there be time to finish our drinks? WHAT WAS HAPPENING??? Pure panic and confusion on our part.I kid you not, the expressions on our faces were like we were trying to solve linear equations. Her and I were staring into a hot tub time machine (aka vodka cranberry) trying to make sense of it all, we had no time to "dry snitch".

Unrelated but equally confusing to us was trying to decipher between real cops and fake cops. Basically what we concluded was if they appeared to be in shape then they were definitely gay. Just cause your drunk doesn't mean your not right.

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