I will try to refrain from using names in this post despite the fact that I like to think that the people I am referencing don’t know how to read anyway.
Way harsh, mel.
What I mean is that they don’t read anything outside the spectrum of subtitles in an episode of Entourage. They can’t figure out for the life of them how the fuck to turn off the closed-captioning.
When I go out on the town for a night of debauchery (which is rare and none of my cute clothes fit me anymore)
I ask for 2 things:
Good music and a chair that I can sit in when need be. For i am the youngest of the bloodline of House Herniated Disk. I once placed my purse on the ground and couldn’t get back up for 5 days.
Last weekend was one of few soirées where I got dolled up and went out for a friend’s birthday. We went to a new-ish restaurant in new-ish Griffintown. I like to think Griffintown is basically Old Montreal‘s little sister with a lisp who’s had dozens of thousands of douchebags inside of her.
Big up to New City Gas! Just kidding. I’ve never actually been there because I’d rather barbecue and eat my own breasts.
What sparked the necessity to write this post was the fact that I paid 130$ for literally 8 bites. 8 MOTHER FUCKING BITES of food. 4 of which were lettuce-based and 2 dirty martinis.
The food was aight. Not alright. Aight because I don’t feel like it deserved the extra ”L” and ”R” to justify the price I paid.
Now I know what you’re thinking, “what do you expect? You’re dining in the Griffintown…” Yes I understand I’m paying the rent with every bolus of food my body ingests. I’m a working woman. I’ve got bills to pay and I am NOT down to support the “fugaze” lifestyle.
“Fugaze”“: adjective to describe people, places and things who really want to show the average folk that they have a lot of money even though no one actually gives a fuck unless you’re giving that money to them; in which case: They will GLADLY give you that rim job you expect from society for being a rich person.
Still confused? I’ll break it down for you:
Take the “supper-club” concept, Grand Prix weekend, and a Mercedes Benz hood ornament.
Place all ingredients in a blender. While that emulsifies into a veritable sludge of opulence; jerk off to a picture of yourself and clean up the mess using a 100$ bill.
Result: The illusion which enables the gold-digging subculture of women. The same gold-diggers who are sucking your dick for free alcohol, FYI.
Similar to a virus, the “fugaze” transcends further. It spreads all the way down to the ordinary folk like you and I who are intrigued by this lifestyle because they’ve seen too many episodes of Keeping up with the Kardashians and Frasier.
The “FugITIS“. These are the ones at the club who throw all the napkins in the air when that “Love Generation” song by Bob Sinclair comes on.
Whatever happened to a little thing called modesty?
It’s okay though and I’ll let you in on a little secret and you’re totally welcome to join in on the fun:
Whenever I (and now you) go to a restaurant or bar that overcharges- simply express your dissatisfaction by taking a whole-hearted shit in their bathroom.
Don’t smear it on the wall like a fucking psychopath; they already think you’re a neanderthal for leaving the minimum required tip. Just do the deed and flush it down. Better yet, dont flush. It will be the most passive-agressive and therapeutic thing you will ever do in your life
Besides, At 17$ for a drink they don’t really leave you with any other option…you kind of have to at that point.
Didja like this post? WELL DIDJA?!?!?! Does the word ”Didja” remind you of ”Jumanji”? Regardless- Read the rest of my posts here: