Adventures of Club Night

So my little sister graduated college on Friday May 7, 2010 (again, congrats Booski). We had her a party with family and it was really a nice affair. But with she and I both being young and her friends being in town, naturally we wanted to get out and have a little fun afterward. But instead what we found were a few things that made us quite sad. We went to a club in our hometown and we honestly did expect to find a trace of a good time. When we walked in, we saw a few people we went to high school with. Keep in mind that I am five years older than she but the same people who went to high school with me know EVERYBODY at the club just like the ones who went to high school with her. So what this tells us, Mr. Party Animal,is that you come to this same spot every weekend. Then the dudes proceed to stand in a circle and sing the words to every song that comes on as they hug each other and throw up gang signs. Mr. Party Animal, how are you gangsta when you are hugging and singing to your homeboy? That is also not to mention, Mr. Party Animal that you are struggling to hold your pants up as you do it. Pants down. Check. Serenading a dude. Check. Hugging a dude. Check. Tongue down dude's throat..........You get the picture.

Then came Ms. Club Vixen. I am not sure when it became cool to to wear a top that is so tight and low cut that it cuts your nipple in half and makes the top and the visible portion of said nipple bulge and fall over the top. If the DJ says "One of them titties is gone fall out. And I'm gone catch it too"' you shouldn't smile, high five your homegirl and dance harder. Ms. Club Vixen, that is not what's hot in the streets. Then Ms. Club Vixen, why do you wear dresses so short and tight that you have to hold it down to dance? And Ms. Club Vixen, if you know you have no rhythm, then you should just barely move like the rest of the Rhythmless Nation. The Stanky Leg is not for you and it is not a great idea to grind on a wall next to the DJ's booth because he will see you and call you out for getting sexy on yourself with no rhythm. Oh and by the way, your shirt is so tight I can see your belly button.......and the bottom of your belly. And Ms. Club Vixen, it is not cool to throw your legs up on a random stranger and show your girl all of Vicki's Secret just because you want men to notice your sexy. Don't do that, Ms. Club Vixen.

Then we walked outside. There we met Mr. Boy Scout (I have NO idea why this dude could still wear his Boy Scout vest or why he brought it to the club to show his friends), Miss New Booty (I say BRAND new because I ain't never seen nothin' like this before) whose booty was lumpy, bulging and pouring out of her shorts from the back AND the sides and Lady Drunk Slut. Now I call this last one "Lady" in a very joking manner. If you are so wasted that your legs look like the Scarecrow's in The Wizard of Oz (or The Wiz; Do what ya' like) and your man has to pick you up and sling you over his shoulder just to get you to the car which is right across the street, you have had too much. Just a ways down the sidewalk, there was Lady Drunk Slut's next of kin, Intoxicated Ho. I mean, passed out on the bench next to your friend who is just as unconscious and only wearing her bra and jeans? There are two dudes next to you "checking on you" but their faces say one thing- "Smaaaaaaaaaash!" And please believe they will.

Now you all know me. I am way to inquisitive for my own good. I got around to asking a few of them where they were from. I was proud to learn that only two of the eight I "interviewed" were from my state. We met a lot of subjects along our case study club night and it did two things. The first was that it made us both glad we grew up and then it answered the age-old question of "Wheredeydodatat?"

Free Write

I think I have always had what some might call an irrational fear of something terrible happening to me- never being able to bear children, finding out I have cancer only after it has consumed most of me, being the responsible driver and stopping at a red light but the 18-wheeler behind me deciding not to, being the one to greet a stray bullet with a vital organ- ya know, that type of stuff. I do pray every day that God keeps me safe and these fears don't live at the forefront and therefore do not run my life. While I am not at all afraid to die, I would rather it not be tragic and ruin the funeral my mother is leaving me no choice other than to have (I would rather just be cremated. No point of making a fuss for me). But I do believe that because I am always cautious of the extreme, my life is more rewarding in some aspects. I love hard enough for me and everyone else. When I am fed up, I can make people and things instantly obsolete. When I am happy, I share with others and I will admit that I have on occasion shared sadness and anger too. When I am passionate about something, everyone is gonna feel it. When I make love......well.......*blush*. If my so-called irrational fears make my normalities sweeter, then I hope to keep my visitor's pass to the World of Irrationality forever.

JUSTICE

Ahem

May I have your attention, please?

Fuck the Tea Party.

That"ll be all.

Okay, I'll Bite

I wasn't gonna do this. But there have been way too many "Why Black Women Are Single" spots coming on tv nowadays for me to keep quiet. Judging from a friend's recent misfortune and a lifetime of my own, I feel I am more than qualified to speak. First of all, let me say that my daddy (R.I.P) and my brother are all the proof I need that somewhere in the world exist good Black men. Secondly, this morning I was awakened by a picture message with the subject line, "Look What This Bastard Did". When I opened the photo, I saw remnants of a face I used to know. Only this version of the face was splattered with purple bruises and red cuts and soaked in its own blood mixed with its own tears. The nose broken and not sure which way to go. The lips cut, swollen and a bit downturn. A knot on the forehead threatening to burst and bleed. I remember the face I used to know. It was happy, lighthearted and nothing like this one. We will call my friend "Amy" for the sake of this post. Amy and I have known each other since the 7th grade and since I have known her, she has dreamed of love and marriage. But like many of us, Amy has run into nothing but bad luck. Oh, did I forget to mention Amy isn't Black? As a matter of fact, she calls herself "one of the whitest girls you will ever know". After seeing the picture, I called Amy. It turns out, the picture was taken three weeks ago and she is healing. She tells me she saw a couple of the spots on Black women. Then she has this to say:

"It's not just Black women. Most of the women in my family have major problems with the men they date. I have a lot of White friends who do too. We have the same problems with our men. I think the only reason they put the spotlight on Black women is because y'all are more vocal about it."

That was interesting because I felt the same way. Yes Sistas, I know that just because we don't mention it doesn't mean the problem doesn't exist. But the reason shows like this exist is that we voice our "Niggas ain't shit" theories so much. Then we are not open to interracial dating so that leaves no options at all. We have to know that if every woman found The One the very first time around, most of us would never even go on dates. I have been cheated on. I have been beaten. I have been berrated. I have had my virtue stolen and I have had times where I was just fed up. I am even guilty of saying "Men ain't shit". But I do give myself time to get over those moments of bitterness and not typecast because of the few bad actors I have casted. I might not ever find my leading man, but I will stop making men the villains. So in short, Black women, ALL women have the problems but our men suffer because we judge without looking at ourselves. Now if you look within and truly find that you aren't the problem, then fine. By all means, leave and go on to the next one. But leave the jawjacking behind. You can't be upset when Dateline only repeats what you say. Don't get mad. Just shut up.

Totally Shocking

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2009/09/07/ktvk.az.rally.church.ktvk

I was completely disgusted after seeing this video. It is fine to say you don't agree with someone's decisions. But to boldly state that you HATE them and wish them bodily harm and even death is totally vile. And then those words take on a whole other life form when you are supposedly a man of God who is leading a flock. The fact that this man still has a congregation is shocking. Apparently he is drinking the same Kool-Aid as the one who led this country to hell in the first place. God bless you, Barack Obama.

"But the prophet, which shall presume to speak a word in my name, which I have not commanded him to speak, or that shall speak in the name of other gods, even that prophet shall die." -Deu 18:20

Ego (But Not At All What You Think)

"It's too big
It's too wide
It's too strong
It won't fit
It's too much
It's too tough
He talk like this 'cause he can back it up."

Well, good.
Dammit I'm glad.
Cause I'm the type of chick that he's never seen,
Never had.

I'm glad his ego's fat
Cause I damn sho' won't feed it.
I don't know what he's bringin'
But I damn sho' don't need it.

Got no real need to "Turn My Swag On"
I tapped in years ago
And never left that shit alone.

Don't give a damn
An about "Ice Cream Paint Job" on a 'Lac.
The fact that I'm educated
Stops all that in its tracks.

Won't "Stanky Leg"
Cause that don't apply to me.
And "Boyfriend Number 2"
Ain't what I need you to be.

Won't say "Put A Ring On It"
And I won't give you my time
When it's fuckin' "Every Girl" that's
Always on your mind.

Don't do lame shit like
"Kiss Me Through The Phone".
Leave too many messages and
I'll leave yo' ass alone.

Oh no. Hell no you aren't
"The Best I Ever Had".
I didn't get attached
And for that, I'm kinda glad.

Walk up to me suggesting
We have "Birthday Sex".
I will chew yo' ass out
And then move on to the next.

Messin' with me is a good
Way to get "Wasted"
You'll miss your dignity so much
You can just taste it.

I give new meaning to a "5 Star Chick"
I smile when you get mad
And walk off callin' me a bitch.

Drop a stupid line and be quick to meet yo' doom
Pack that shit and kepp it movin'.
"Becky"'s in the next room.

Keep "Swag Surfin'"
Cause homeboy, you lost your touch.
Tell yo' coach he's fired
Cause yo' game is all washed up.

Think before you rhyme
Cause this time, you dead wrong
Don't try to step to me with
Another stupid song.

Too harsh?
Too mean?
Too rough?
Too tough?
Too much
To cope with?
Well, I talk shit cause I can back it up.

TK

******WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY PROVES THAT A DIVA IS NOT A FEMALE VERSION OF A HUSTLER************

GO AWAY! PLEASE!

I love my news (online and in print) but I am going to scream if I see one more icture of Rihanna not being a musician, not being philanthropist and over all, just not being important. I mean, every day it's "Rihanna walks across a street in New York", "Rihanna walks across a street in California", "Rihanna eats", "Rihanna stands up", "Rihanna uses her own lungs to breathe". I just want to see her DOING something for a change. She is a good singer and a good performer as well.But I know there is more to Rihanna than just walking across streets and into restaurants with these new outfits on, be they devastating or dreadful. And if I'm wrong and there is no more to her, should anyone really be pubbing her anyway? There are other stars in all mediums that are overexposed as well, but at least they are shown at an actual event every once in awhile and the occasional fundraiser. As journalists, we have got to make these people do the work before they are worthy of our precious time and space. Call me a hater. Call me evil. But by all means, call me EXPRESSED