So our night seemed like it would be Ruby-free this night.  We decided to head to Vessel for much needed change of environment.  Little did we know, it was not crackin’ like we had hoped it to be.  And it was easy as that.  Next thing we knew, we were back at our second home for another night of unexpected (and unremembered) fun.  Marcus Schossow was playing tonight, so of course we were (probably first) on the guestlist.  Entrance was free (as it should be with such loyal RS fans like us), and this made alllll the difference to our night.  We quickly noticed the change in atmosphere.  Something was a little off.  A little strange.  I felt like I was being ripped apart by sets of eyes from all directions.  And no, I am not referring to the gold-framed, ominous, haunted-house looking portraits of people on the upstairs walls.  What exactly was it then, you may ask?  Well, let’s just say….CREEPERS GA-FUCKING-LORE.  Don’t get me wrong — I love you RS, and I love free events, but not when hoards of hungry men come preying on small girls with their creepy-as-fuck-‘come-to-me-nao’ faces (for free).  Here is one example of two thousand from just this night:

I mean, if I’m going to be gawked at while dancing I better be getting paid.. like those average-looking dancers up on stage behind the fake cage (You know. The ones with pasties?).  Nonetheless, we stayed.  I mean it’s RS.  Why not.

Marcus Schossow came out and played some pretty sick beatz.  Levels, anyone?  Sun & moon, anyone?  His EDC-reminiscent tracks made the night worthwhile, despite me having to constantly scurry away from disturbing outsiders who wished so desperately to be a part of our super exclusive (cool-people-only) group that chanted super exclusive phrases all through the night.  Trust me.  You’re not cool enough to dance with us if you only come to Ruby Skye on free nights, and you’re definitely not cool enough if you don’t spend at least half of your paychecks at Ruby Skye every month.  So that’s that.  #endFYRSpost6.  Forever yours, RS.

April was a goldmine for frequenting Ruby Skye. This is shitty picture # 3. If you can tell who the blob is in the middle, his name is Calvin Harris. He is probably the second DJ I would bang after Kaskade. Pretty sure no one uses that word anymore. Anyway, I digress. Here we saw Calvin Harris. He played bone shaking Awooga, and other songs. What a great entertainer. FYRS.

Afrojack @ Ruby Skye, 04.16.11

As you have probably noticed, quality pictures taken at Ruby Skye are hard to come by in our group. Here we find Afrojack. He is the shit. Why? Because he says stuff like this:

“I didn’t come here for Ruby Skye. I came here for YOU San Franciscooooo!”

Which is a pretty nice way to say, “Fuck you Ruby Skye.” So, FYRS stands for something a little different in this case. A sentiment that anyone who frequents Rubes as much as we do can relate to.

Case in point, a bouncer randomly threatening to take away my ID, despite that very same bouncer having definitely checked my ID multiple times before. He claimed that he already let someone in with my ID earlier that night. But…NO YOU DID NOT. You probably checked it last week. And the week before that. So, get it right. I’m there a lot. You’re going to see my same ID multiple times a month. I should get a motherfucking frequent stamp card for that and win prizes. Not get attitude from a douche bouncer.

Oh and here’s another FYouRS moment: Bouncer walks over, grabs our bottle of Coke and sniffs. Checks ID’s, takes bottle, and walks away. Comes back with empty bottle and says, “throw it away yourself” (this is probably not an accurate quote, but I think you get the idea). Taking bottle away….kind of acceptable. Giving empty bottle back…just plain dick.

But, I will never let you bring me down, Ruby Skye security. No. I will continue to drink in your long-ass lines and will never cower when you try to deny me my age-righted access into your doors. I will be there again. And soon. FYouRS.

Sorry for both the lack of chronological organization and quality photography, but when you go to Ruby Skye as much as we do, your thoughts and memories tend to be jumbled and uncollected. 

It’s a Saturday night, where should we go tonight? The answer, 50% of the time all the time, is Ruby Skye. How could we miss out on bouncers who swore they just saw your twin from Hawaii walk in and those grody 3 stall bathrooms that create lines out to Hawaii itself (herself?) ? Or how about the eternal struggle to stand by the edge of the balcony on the 2nd floor, only to be followed around by a creeper that we now have deemed the “clothing tugger” (self explanatory in terms of creeper tactic)?

Despite a line outside so long you’re encouraged to become best friends with a stone wall, we were able to all get in time, for FREESIES. Four Long Islands and a lot of creeper tugging later, Manufactured Superstars in all of their NASA suit glory appeared on stage. We danced and jammed the night away to their rocking beats. Due to my close proximity to the balcony and my continuous efforts to avoid the aforementioned creeper, bruises formed MID SHOW but I kept jamming anyway.

To further show our dedication to our favorite-duo-that-we-saw-for-free (overlooking the $48 for the Four Long Islands), we decided to venture down to the pit of Ruby Skye and ended up right in front of Brad and Shawn themselves. Because they can hear us, we screamed Hiiii repeatedly. At one point, at the height of our victory, Bradley waved at us. AT US. This was all worth the horrible hangover to follow the next day. Additionally, perhaps due to our incessant nagging, the duo started to fling out sunglasses which boasted their name on the sides. LE-FUCKING-GIT. Not only did we snag 2 sunglasses for our group, we also got a Facebook add later from Bradley himself. Free shows in Vegas, anyone? Just going to throw that out there, but we probably won’t be committing any indecent favors. Thank you Brad and Shawn, for a night to remember. FYRS.

Thinking about getting it tattoo-ed on soon.  FYRS.

Avicii @ Ruby Skye 09.18.11

Inspiration for a “Fuck Yeah” dedicated to San Francisco’s Ruby Skye hits.

Last night…at 10:45pm…on a fucking SUNDAY NIGHT…we found ourselves standing in line for almost an hour to get into this place. If it weren’t for our dedication to Tim Bergling himself, our college-graduate, working-professional asses would have (should have) been in bed and resting up for 8am conference calls and shit. Instead, we partied at the foot of Ruby Skye’s stage singing and “bah-bah-bah-ing” our hearts out until 3am. Of course a horrible Monday followed, but it’s worth every fucking minute. FYRS.