Reminiscence from May 8, 2009.


Mmmk.
Karaoke with my dad. He had told me he’d give me forty bucks and pay for Quane and I to eat and all that good stuff, and then, when he goes to give me the money, he gave Quane 20 if it! WTH!?!? Lol. But I know I must really love my SD Bestie, because I wasn’t mad, I was happy, kuz that makes her my sister, if I gotta share my moolah, and that means, next time my dad calls me talking dumb, Ima give him her number…see how much U EARN my dad money. lol.

on the other hand, the tortilla soup was bomb, and we did a BOMB rendition of “Bills,Bills, Bills” and at the end she got really ANGRY and was like, shouting “Kan YOU pay MY BILLS” and telling me, over the mic, that she wishes a certain freeloader was there to hear her. WOW! and she said she doesnt sing….lol. I also helped a guy do “Baby Got Back” because he was up there BUTCHERING it…and then he asked me if my boyfriend was outside, I said yes, and asked him to kindly remove his hands from my waist and he says “he’d kick my ass, huh?” Yes. Yes my imaginary boyfriend would.

So Quane and I go to Decos. Super fun…I must admit. Even tho we paid a pricey cover, which was a bit alarming, since we, well, NEVER pay a cover out here….or at Decos!
First, may I point out that the fact that it is 18 and up is kinda silly, because they stop letting in the young’uns at like 11, and then it’s all the thirsty, eager ones who are there, because the chill ones about to be 21 cant get in, kuz they show up when the club gets crackin’ five minutes after the 21 and up only time.
These kids look RIDICULOUS.
I thank the good Lord, because I KNOW when we weren’t 21, we didn’t play that.

Now. Moving on….dancing can be really dangerous, because then you get stalked….and i mean Ted Bundy-looking in your window-if you dance with someone else he’s watching- Quane has to grab me around the neck and dance with me so he’ll back up- poking me with your winkie type stalking.
I love Quane, because she saves me. And I saved her too!
If I had a dollar for everytime I had to say something like “You’re about to get got!” or “Incoming!” I would be a VERY rich woman.

I am hella irritated at the fact that I found a tall, semi- Lebron James looking person in the crowd, and somehow managed to lose him…and Quane tried to help me find him again, but I don’t know why I always continue to go through this charade knowing that I wouldn’t have gone up to him and said anything. Pssh. So….it’s up to the ones who don’t just try to have eye sex with me from across the dance floor….like the semi- King James!

And what is it, with EVERYONE poking you with their winky when they dance with you? The boy in the argyle sweater, the boy I coulda swore I knew from somewhere, the boy who told me I couldnt handle the boy in the argyle sweater, the boy who has a stalking problem, and the boy who I didn’t look back at to begin with. And Quane says that she had the same problem all nite.
I refer to them as boys, seeing as they have no penile control. And I mean, I get it, I’m all grinding on you, and I move pretty nicely, as does Quane. But don’t be pullin’ us all close to get your fix…that’s not cute.
……and then the stalker comes back around, and the homeboys are with us, so Chris helps me out, and dances with me, so my stalker will be put off. Amen.

So when Quane sees some dude with dreads she reaches out and touches his hair, and I’m lookin’ at his friend…and then outta nowhere his friend GRABS me, and is over here just dancing with me, and then we go to the bar a few minutes later, and they are there, and he’s asking me 21 questions like
“do you drink?” “do you smoke?” “wheres your man at?” [but i will let him slide, kuz he didn’t poke me with his winky.]
also….Quane and I have this habit of attracting shady characters, because both of these dudes, are wearing Armani shoes, and ordering Evian and Wine at the bar. Hmmm.
Sidenote: I am SO tired of being asked where my man is, when I’m AT THE CLUB. If i had a man, I would NOT be dancing with you, the way i am. Actually, I’d be a private dancer in my own home.Duh. Ruude.

Night ends with a really kute guy tryna talk to me in the middle of the crosswalk, which was cool until he tried to have some of my Arizona tall can of raspberry iced tea….um, NO! One, Swine flu, boy! Two? I do NOT know where your mouth has been, and you’re cute, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have modern-day “kooties.”
Oh no. Not I. I ain’t messin wit you. Pssh.

And then Chris’ friend is all like, “Yeah Mama our event is on the 23rd..you needa be there”….and Chris says “Ima text ya’ll, and let ya’ll know where to meet me so you can get in free.” and ol boy says “Mmmhmm, Ima get your number from him and text you,” and I was tryna be nice, so I just smiled, kuz they had put us in a cab and been nice, so I didn’t tell him that Chris meant he was going to text Quane, because he doesn’t have my number, he just knows Quane is always with me, lol.
Ahhhh. Niiiiice.

and not to mention, when we’re on the sidewalk talking to all of them, our dudes from the bar drive by in a Mercedes, and talk about they’re gonna call us….even tho we are surrounded by five other dudes. STILL GOT IT!
I know they’re drug dealers.I just KNOW it.

and then, the 22 dollar cab ride home.
that was prolly the worst part of my nite.
Aside from the winky poking. Not cool, dude.

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