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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   >>

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.