A Day In The Life
Long ass read…if you have a.d.d., you might just want to wait until people start posting comments and try and put the story together that way. Otherwise, here ya go:
Friday July 7, 2006. “Go shawty, it’s your birthday…”
Driving down La Brea toward Hollywood. Why in the hell is traffic moving so slow at this time of night ? This is usually the quick route to the valley.
I see the reason for the back up. There’s 20 police cars in the gas station on Sunset. Either this bitch has gotten robbed, or they found Osama trying to buy a hot dog with his fill up on #4. Anyways, over the hill and up the 101 I go.
After linking up with the homies to get lubricated at Sapphire, we head back over the hill to go to Shag. This is where the evening gets interesting. Since I’m not driving, I’m already in rare form by the time we get there. While skipping the line, this chick who’s obviously tired of waiting yells out, “We’ve been waiting for an hour, where the fuck are you guys going ?”. The nice guy in me wasn’t gonna say anything, but the nigga in me who’s got a nice amount of Patron going says, “I guess you shouldn’t have worn your ugly face tonight, maybe you would have gotten in earlier. Sorry, hun. Toodles.” Duece thrown. Funny thing is, I don’t even know who said it, cause I didn’t look back while I was talking. I’m Rick James’ ghost, bitch.
How come there’s only 2 sistas up in here ?
After dancing with Becky (I shit you not, her name was Becky) for a good minute, I decide that it’s time to head back to the bar. So we exchange #’s and keep it movin. When I get over to the bar, the homie has a shot waiting for me. The bartender hears us doing the birthday toast and whatnot, and says that since it’s my birthday, she’s paying for my drinks tonight. I love me some her. It’s not like I was paying anyway, but that left some cash in my niggas’ pockets. That’s a good look.
I mosy over to the 2 chicks from Chocolate City, and start making conversation. After a couple minutes, we move out to the dance floor. Yep, 3 out of the 12 brown people have made a Chocolate Oreo on the floor. After sweating out some liquor, one of them dips out and I’m left with Kelly, who proceeds to give me her resume. Like I’m an agent or talent scout…anyway, I pretend to listen. Nodding and smiling, with the occasional “For real ?”. Numbers exchanged, it’s time for the posse to head out.
Where the fuck is the dude with the hot dogs ?
Drunk dialing June. She didn’t answer. Leaves a message.
Calls June again. Leaves another message threatening to call every 15-20 minutes if she doesn’t answer.
Call #3. Still no answer. If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll answer next time. I’m The Juggernaut, bitch !
Booty Johnson finally calls back. But I’m not nearly as drunk as I was earlier. So I just gave her the rundown of what happened, instead the “Hey baby, I wanna tickle your booty with a feather duster” line I usually give her. Now, before you jackasses accuse me of harassing her during booty call hours, she gave me permission to call her on my way home. Now that I think of it, I didn’t get my song either. You called 2 times, but no song…the fuck ? I type in protest.
Saturday July 8, 2006 “Groundhog Day…”
A jackhammer. Why do I hear a jackhammer ? Who jackhams (I know it’s not a real word) at this time of day, on a Saturday ? I hope whoever it is catches gonorrhea.
Honey-nut Cheerios are the shit !
Shower & back to sleep.
Who the fuck is this ? Pagin me at 5:46 in the mornin crack a dawnin, now I’m yawnin…wait a minute, it’s 5:46pm. My bad, let me answer it. “Get yo ass up, we at it again !”
In order to save time, let’s just say that the same thing from the previous evening went down. Only differences were the locations and the names. At one point I did point across the room and yell “Is that Bruce Bruce, nigga ?”. I knew it wasn’t, but the rum told me it was.
Sunday July 9, 2006 “Cougar Fest ’06 was a smashing success…”
Now it’s a fuckin dog ? Are you kidding me ? If the bastard doesn’t shut up, I’m poisoning hs ass.
Me: Miguel’s bake shop and oil change.
: What are you doing ?
Me: Just got out of the shower, about to go put some cyanide in my neighbors’ dogs bowl. Sup ?
: You need to come to El Guapo. We’re watching the World Cup finals.
Me: I don’t do soccer
: But the spot is thick with females.
Me: Gimme 15 minutes.
Finally get to the spot, and it’s packed like a slave ship in that bitch. And these fools got a table outside ? It’s about 90 degrees. Shit. Oh well, I’m here. And the eye candy is nice. I’m staying.
The chicks at the table next to us get an umbrella. So, we ask the waiter to grab one for us. Another waiter than the one we asked brings the umbrella, then “Brad” says it’s for his table, not us. Fuck outta here, we asked first. The waiter doesn’t know who it’s for so he says he’s gonna flip a coin. We call heads, we win, “Brad” mumbles something about this not being right, I look over at him, smile, and say “Hey, tough break, nigga !”. Duece thrown. He storms off. Another classic Miguel moment. It’s gonna be a good day.
My boy’s boy shows up to join us. So, now we’re 4 deep. Watching the game and rooting for France, cause they had more brothers on the team. Drinking strawberry rita’s eating chicken nachos, and spitting game at the United Colors of Bennetton chicks at the table next to us. Life is good, and has somehow turned into an episode of Entourage.
We get the call about something going down in Manhattan Beach. We decide to roll out, cause it’s early. Why not ? What’s the worst that could happen ?
Why did I leave my car at El Guapo ? If I knew we were gonna drive down La Brea to get on the 10 then to the 405, I would have dropped the car off at home.
After getting lost, we finally make it to the spot. A little bar in a hotel called Shade. More niggas I don’t know start to filter in, but it’s all love. They’re some cool people, and they brought women with them, and roll with a white dude they call K-Fed which makes them even better in my book. After about 2 hours, someone comes up with the idea to move the party to a spot called Sangria in Hermosa Beach. I’m already lubricated, so it sounds like a great idea. We move.
Walk into this spot, and there doesn’t seem to be much going on, but the room next door has a buffet spread. Game on. Me & my boy walk in, and we notice that everybody is wearing nametags. Now because of the liquor we’ve consumed up to this point, it doesn’t occur to us that this may be a private function, and it didn’t stop niggas from grabbing a plate. So we walk over to the table by the door and ask for our name tags, and they tell us, that we can’t be there cause it’s a dating event for 40-50 year olds. Sheeeeeeeeeeeit, now we GOTTA stay. After sweet talking the host into letting us stay, we get name tags and start working the room.
One of the girls who came with us came over from next door to investigate what we were up to, cause apparently they were concerned. Then one of the dudes came over to see what was going on too. They should shook their heads and laughed, and walked back to the other side.
After a while, we settle on the group in the corner who live on the well preserved side of Cougarville, cause they don’t look to be 42-45 as they claimed. So we proceed to holla at them for the rest of the night, which was only about 30 more minutes. We exchange numbers and make plans to hook up again. Yep.
We go back to the dance floor, and proceed to dance off the drinks with some ladies in our age range.
The dudes we met earlier were leaving, and I thought we were leaving too, when our ride told us that he had 3 more chicks coming. I guess were aren’t going anywhere.
Outta fuckin nowhere, K-Fed walks through. We thought his ass left 2 hours ago. Another random laugh for the night.
We finally hook up with the chicks that ol boy called up. We end up going to this reggae spot for a couple drinks and some more dancing. Who taught this lil asian chick to move like that ? Me likey. Game on. This older black lady walks past us on the way to the restroom…wait a minute, wasn’t that chick over at the Cougar event ? I look at my boy and the look on his face confirms it. It’s Shirley. We laugh, but no one else gets the funny.
Off to Denny’s, where we bump into 2 dudes from the 40-50 singles event, a dude named Mike and one I was calling David Lee Roth. These cats have gone and pulled some chicks younger than us. Old man game must be strong.
We say our goodbyes to the new chicks and finally make our way home. Who could have seen this shit coming ?
We drive past my house a second time, to go back to El Guapo to get the car.
There’s a really big girl standing outside a parked car, talking to her friends. She’s wearing a purple shirt. I call her Grimace. Wrong ? Yes. Funny ? Yes.
I finally get to the car, to drive back to where I came from. Driving back down La Brea, I pass ol girl and her friends again. I think to myself “Hey Kool-aid !!!”. Asshole ? Sometimes, but the shit was funny.
Finally made it home. Who knew this shit would happen when that fuckin dog woke me up ? In the words of Ms. Badu, “What a day, what a day”.
As I type this, I just got a text message from one of the last chicks we hooked up with, saying that they had a helluva time and want to do it again…to be continued.