Recently, a friend suggested that we, a small group of chicly dressed, good-looking Manhattan-ites, go to Goa for an after dinner drink. I hesitated at first, but decided to go with the flow. As I made my way to the front, I noticed a "door boy" with shaved sideburns a la Vanilla Ice circa 1990. Then, from inside, I hear "errrbody in da club get tipsy" playing which, one needs to be in order to tolerate such crappy hip-hop. What, the DJ can't play more current heinous billboard pop? As I waited, and mind you I don't wait longer than 7 minutes, I watched a slightly over-weight bottle blonde & a horrifically balding man let in at least 10 trolls (5'5" and under), and 12 hags. Some of them even arrived in gauche cars they can't afford which, always tickles me pink. To make matters worse, I was forced to listen to a BNT/Porno skank-- donning a faux fur jacket, a pilled jersey dress, aqua eyeshadow, and an XOXO Louis knock-off (if you can't pay for the real thing, don't bother)-- complain about how she "has a table." Class; it was her new thing. Enough, I grabbed my valet ticket, and headed for the hills... literally. So, for any of you Angelino's, or out-of-towner's whom want to get "tipsy," shake your booty, and enjoy the "beautiful people" L.A. has to offer, DO NOT go to the troglodyte going Goa!
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