Chris Reinhard's Reverie Machine

I’m not going to your nightclub anymore.

I have like, seventeen new friends on Facebook who all live in Denver and who all promote the same stupid nightclubs: Below, 24k, Suite 200, et cetera. And I know they’re just trying to do their jobs but I have to be candid: I am never going to your nightclub if you send me a Facebook invite. Even if Brody Jenner himself was going to be there pouring my fucking champagne I still probably wouldn’t go. I mean, I’d go - just not after you sent me a Facebook invite. I don’t really care if “Denver’s elite” are going to be there because, well, they aren’t.

The truth is, when your nightclub throws parties like these, it gets too busy and I can’t get a drink without waiting in line or being lucky enough to know one of the cocktail waitresses outside the club. It gets too trendy: all the dudes wear cologne and the whorish waifs taking up space at the bar are only rarely intelligent enough not to dig a stiletto into my Testoni shoes. And your guest DJs and ‘celebrity’ hosts steal all the good looking girls who can actually manage a conversation anyway.

So to you, Mister Josh Gold, Miss Emily Martinez, and especially you, Mister Frederick D. Churbuck: I bet you’re all great. But I’m not coming to your shitty nightclub event. Ever.