Sticking out like a sore thumb can be a good thing, expecially when youre in the middle of a group of dicks. In Ely this weekend (which D-Rok kept intentionally mispronouncing Eli, as in the inventor of the cotton gin, even when he would converse with locals), we found ourselves seeking out what would be "the place to be" on Saturday night. Knowing "the place to be" was indeed not the Kwazy Wabbit, we would inquire whether or not that would be where all the local youths would be gongregating that eve. We were always met with horrified looks and a "No! Thats where the old local drunks hang out." Its awesome. Informed of the local hotspots, we dresseed in our Uptown Best, and hit up the only bars in which we could find anyone remotely interested in a good time, not including the Portage, which was hosting a birthday party, complete with Frito Scoops. We made our way to Cranberries. People under thirty abound! And of the female persuasion! However, our attempts were constantly thwarted by local hooligans and their overprotectiveness. Granted, if I knew 4 women, I'd probably be a little protective of them too. God forbid a group of women our age from Minneapolis should go out to that place....
"HOT DAMN ITS A WOMAN!!!"
