I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.
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Tuesday, August 4
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GIRLS' NIGHT OUT
I recently went with my favorite group of bitches to see No Doubt. A 7-11 snack run is always necessary when the situation only serves lawn tickets.
24-YEAR-OLD SECURITY DOUCHER: Empty all your pockets to be searched.
HUGO: [empties wallet and mobile]
24-YEAR-OLD SECURITY DOUCHER: [digs through The Girlfriend's purse] BOTTLED BEVERAGES AREN'T PERMITTED... SPECIAL REQUEST.
HUGO: Wait, what?
24-YEAR-OLD SECURITY DOUCHER: I SAID BOTTLED BEVERAGES AREN'T PERMITTED ON THE PREMISES.
HUGO: Um, every LiveNation event allows bottled water.
24-YEAR-OLD SECURITY DOUCHER: AS I JUST SAID, BOTTLED BEVERAGES AREN'T PERMITTED ON THE PREMISES, A SPECIAL REQUEST ...PER GWEN. I swear to fucking god; he said, "...Per Gwen."
HUGO: WHAT!? ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!? [LAUGHS RIGHT IN HIS FACE.]
24-YEAR-OLD SECURITY DOUCHER: PER GWEN, STEFANI. [guffaws] IF I WERE HER, I WOULDN'T WANT BOTTLES IN MY SHOW EITHER. Because I'm Brett fucking Favre and I can throw a bottle of water on stage from 5,000 feet away.
THE GIRLFRIEND: I don't know what your big beef with LiveNation is, Hugo. The restroom signs had LiveNation logos.
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