You betta work.

After a moderately successful first night out with the fashion-craving, leggings-wearing, wine-guzzling, acronym-speaking, milkshakes-all-the-boys-to-the-yard-bringing ladies wherein I managed to stay awake and on the town until 2am despite the best efforts of a three-story, open bar party, I’ve decided to raise the stakes in this game of Just How Much Can 25-year-old Ben Pretend to Be 21-year-old Ben. Tonight we go to Menz Bar.

Yes – good ole Menz Bar, where the air is filled with the sounds of remixed Top 40 Divas, where the bars are staffed either by drag queens or topless men, where mounted TV screens show images of other things being mounted, where there is a handrail extending the length of the dance floor that turns any regular night into a Pussycat Dolls performance, where my friend Joel almost had his ass handed to him by Gay Hulk Hogan, and most notably where I stumbled upon a threesome.

All that’s to say…it. is. ON.

Those bitches think they can party? We’ll see how well they do after an eight-minute megamix of Ke$ha. Or if they can handle having to justify their fashion choices to a drag queen bartender who would sooner eat you alive than serve you a drink without doling out judgement. Or if they can truly work it to old school Britney the way all of us who experienced her rise to fame whilst tragically underaged want to believe we can. Or if they can handle a dance bar where literally every song is, or at one point in time has been, your JAM.

Let me just tell you, if these chicks haven’t already readjusted their Sunday, Monday and Tuesday schedules to avoid any activity that involves use of their thigh muscles, they have no idea just how hard tonight is going to go down.