I don't know if anyone is alive right now, cause I feel rather dead. It's 3:52 am and I feel like shit. The taxi man just drove me home. I sprouted the usual bullshit about the GST and he didn't seem interested so I stopped. You know the usual taxi small talk.

I left a social get together that toasterleavings was at and I was going to go home but i decided to go to another pub that i knew a few friends would be at.

I approached the door and i was told that my faded jeans and worn docs were unacceptable. At first I was accepting of this decision by the door messiahs. I took a few steps and at that stage I wasn't drunk and then I thought "what a fucking load of utter bullshit."

It was then I decided to try again. I joined the queue once again to find out what the door messiahs would say and I was not dissappointed. I was once again rejected. I did this at least another 3 times. Joined the queue and was told my dress was unacceptable to enter

A change of guard appeared. This time it was a girl. I queued for two more times and I was charming and in good spirit as I was the times before. She failed to see why it was that I queued at this establishment. She was confused but soon she was replaced by the same man I had seen before.

I queued a few more times and I was again rejected. It was then that I was at the front of the queue and the security person and his superior decided that it was best to ignore me. This worked temporarily for I blocked the flow of queueing prospective guests. They once again told me my dress was unacceptable.

By this time a group of stander-bys told me to tuck my shirt in, and I did, but this did not help. By turn 14 I was stubborn enough to do this for the rest of the night. I went back around to re-queue.

I was once again rejected and through sheer luck a person I knew queue-ed up and we spoke briefly about what was happening and we caught up as we had not seen each other for some time.

I was once again rejected. I asked the security guard doorman type person if he had a formal written document that set out the dress requirments. He said "I could get you one." I turned to rejoin the queue but on my way back he said "tell me what version of word you use so that you can read it."

I went to the end of the queue and waited my turn. As I approached the front I said "I don't use word I use Linux." He looked at me curiously. I was once again rejected. I rejoined the queue.

I got back to the judging point and my friend, who had entered and returned to the door chatted with me. We discussed the latest happenings and I said that I had started a PhD. The doorman asked what the topic was. I said it was about open source software development and strategic management.... it was then that he indicated to let me in, but he did so in a way that did not alert his boss, who was standing nearby. He said something to the effect of "I am also X" but for the life of my zoned out state I can't remember what the hell he said.

he let me in.. after 17 or so tries without acceptable clothes he let me in.. how fucking wierd.

BTW it's early/late, I am drunk, tired and mentally drained.. I Don't give a fuck about spelling, hard links, soft links or Jesus' dangling testicles - but i had to node this experience. Good Night!

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