So this happened today.
Apparently, according to some guy on twitter, I’m a club. Not only that, a bloody successful club that’s making his brother a lot of cash. Now the first question I asked was, what is the club? Is my body the club? Does ‘members’ mean… you know sexy parts? Because I’m pretty sure that’s prostitution. Am I a prostitute without knowing it?
Of course, once I reasoned with myself that I’m not a unconscious hooker, and yes, once I accepted this is just some weird kind of spam. I still got to thinking, if you were about to make a club based around my personal traits and stuff, what kind of club would I be?
I imagine it would have some kind of vagina opening for an entrance, maybe with a sparkling pink tunnel, with lines of feminists in mini-skirts with hairy legs flashing in glory, all offering you cosmopolitans while chanting – ‘grow your muff out, grow your muff out, grow your muff out’. Mirrors of any kind will be banned in my club so that nobody needs to feel self conscious while dancing, and casual bopping will be banned. I want the grandest shapes to be thrown, squares, triangles, ALL THE SHAPES! And every hour there will be a club wide sing-along of Total Eclipse of the Heart. The men will be given lyrics upon arrival so they can properly harmonise with the ‘turn arounnnnnnnd…’
There is of course, the very big possibility that my club would close down within a week but I’m okay with that.
So Internet, what would your club look like? Would you visit my club?
And yes, this babbling about my uterus club is procrastination.