Hey ya’ll!!! Ok I don’t actually say “ya’ll” in real life, so good day fellow readers. And how are we today? Super! My name is Aaron, and I’ll be your guest poster for the day while Chris is in another country upsetting people of a foreign land. I’ve yet to be “blessed” with the opportunity to hang out with Chris in real life even though we’ve tried planning it before. I guess we’re just too cool and too busy for our schedules to align. Nevertheless, I already know exactly what’s going to happen when our powers do combine…
…Begin fuzzy, warm lens, dream sequence now…
It’s 1:12 am when we pull up to the red carpet entrance… fashionably on time. Because on time is always the exact time we arrive.
A cool Manhattan night where the moon is full, the air is crisp, the stars are bright, but Chris and I shine brighter. Our chauffer opens the door to the Maybach and as we hop out, due to our insane popularity, paparazzi try to get spread eagle snap shots of our crotch, but luckily we’re both wearing pants tonight.
We stand at the end of the red carpet and commence our ultra cool slow motion stroll making our way to the club entrance. We look fresh to death. Our attire is impeccable. We’ve only been on the red carpet mere seconds and already our look is setting trends across the globe by top designers in Paris and Milan. Midway thru our slow motion trot my iPhone 4G rings (Yes, I said iPhone 4G. I know that hasn’t come out yet but Steve Jobs has already given Chris and I the prototypes.) I answer it. It’s Justin (Timberlake) on the other end.
JT: Hey Aaron, I heard you’re slo-mo walking down the red carpet in Manhattan this very second outfitted in attire that puts my entire wardrobe to shame.
Me: Yeah, So, What of it?
JT: I mean, this may be a strange request, but if it’s okay with you, will you give me some style tips?
I turn to Chris.
Me: ‘Lake wants the hook up.
Chris grabs the phone from me
Chris: Maybe tomorrow Justin… maybe tomorrow
We continue our strut.
We enter the club and immediately the bullshit crunk music the DJ was playing stops. All eyes on us, and after a brief scuffling through his CD case the DJ throws on 4th Camber by GZA. The intro to that song is immaculate.
As the instrumental kicks in we resume our slow motion swagger. On the way to the V.I.P. section some random poser dude, with his collar popped, runs up to Chris in excitement, claiming that they went to school together.
Another random groupie skips her way thru to us and asks for our autographs. We halfheartedly scribble lines on her paper that in no way even closely resembles our signatures, but we’re so cool it’s going to be worth the price of Brangelina’s baby pics by tomorrow.
We get to our V.I.P. booth. Looking across we see Jay-Z & Beyonce in another booth raising their glasses in our direction as a toast. We return the gesture and send a bottle of Ace of Spades their way. Moments later Jay-Z & Beyonce get into a huge argument and storm out the club… something about him getting jealous because she kept yapping on about how sexy we look tonight…. I dunno.
The bouncers guarding our V.I.P. section are having a hard time keeping the ladies from storming through the velvet ropes, so we tell them to let a couple get in. Immediately these two young ladies proposition us with some gratuitous sex. We decline. However we allow them to totally make out with each other for our viewing pleasure. As the DJ plays Ms. Fat Booty, we nonchalantly gaze at the make out session with boredom. We’ve seen better.
The DJ sensing our boredom plays Madonna’s Get Into The Groove, which immediately sends Chris into a giddy drinking frenzy.
It’s 3:29am now and we’re officially drunk. It’s now time to leave. Two hours and seventeen minutes is all we need in a club. Now it’s time to consume something resembling food, yet fancy. Fancy like Grey Poupon.
…End fuzzy, warm lens, dream sequence now…
I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how it’ll go down when Chris and I finally meet up… Yup, I’m sure of it.