Club Sazae Umeda

Through a fiendish twist of events involving Air France stewardesses and fresh squeezed lemon chu-hi, I found myself at a club in Umeda on Saturday night, actually their opening weekend. Basically, the whole experience made me remember why I stopped going to clubs:
– I’m too old for that shit
– Shitty music played by the wannabe rockstar Djs; from the sound of it, you would never guess that house music has actually progressed in the last ten years
– The “fog of war,” cigarette smoke so thick you have to light your own to make it bearable
– Insufferable wannabe yakuza penislickers who insist on staring down everyone that has the gall to walk by their group; strategically positioned next to the restrooms, of course
– New laser/LED lightshows with New! Improved! Dazzle! guaranteed to cause at least a few seizures in the pit every night
– Old women showing sagging tit
– Antibeer: Beer that is the antithesis of cheap, cold, and very un-urinish in taste and appearance
I just have to repeat how truly awful the music was: It was shit, shit, shit. If you were the DJ working CLUB SAZAE this past Saturday, please know that even a retarded chimpanzee could have mixed your Best of Ibiza CD collection better (and yes, I know you were mixing CDs on a shit setup because I heard the track flutter during your fagalicious “fade ‘n cues”).

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