Filed under: Get it Poppin!, Reflections of a Black Girl | Tags: Heaven party Atlanta
Well er hum. As interesting as it may be, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. Things are cool. In fact so cool that one can’t help but wonder what lies right around the corner. Whatever it is I have a good feeling about it! Just taking my time.
So Somewhere in the midst of my Friday I’d ultimately decided to take up Doc’s offer to go to Heaven where he was DJ’ng that night. I was actually torn between there and Esso’s with Sasha and the Gucci crew but ultimately picked Heaven. Don’t ask why I was torn. No brainer right? The real debate was whether or not to get fly and make it a girls’ night or get fly and make it my night (like I normally do). I’d gone to Esso’s a month or so back after the Esthero concert and was yet again convinced that I am on another planet these days. That crowd just doesn’t suit me anymore unless I’m in a really special mood and have a really good reason to go and support what my people are doing.
Twin calls me as I’m readying to walk out of the door.
“You don’t take my calls and why am I on speaker?”
“What are you talking about? Don’t even try it,” I teased. It was then I was appreciative of the fact that all I had to do was run my hand over my mane to make myself look pretty. Yessss.
“I just called to tell you don’t go downtown. Everybody’s…well…haaaappyy,” The happy was long and exaggerated in an Eyore like monotonish grunt like thing. Twin has one of those voices that can make you really really depressed if you don’t know him or his demeanor and when he’s joking. He and I have the same dry sarcasm and humor so I understand but most, however, don’t. lol His twin brother isn’t that bad.
“Well I’m going anyway. What are you up to?”
That question set off about 10 minutes of poofed air in my ear about how he hates doing business with black people because they always want something for free and never want to pay him on time, lol. That was a conversation for another day that I didn’t care to get on at the moment, especially since I was on my way out to enjoy myself and good music.
Once I got downtown I understood what my solemn friend’s words meant. Reminded me of how much I hate to effing drive, and reminded me of how hard it is to find parking round those parts. Sasha’s work studio was on the same street as the spot so I’ve had my battles before. Only this time it wasn’t a crack head getting ready to fight that I was dodging, it was some stupid idiots who, in some corny state of mind, felt it would be cool to play in the street while Black Girl was on the road. If that wasn’t a suicide wish… Nevertheless there were people everywhere! Drunk…in the street…ok. But Why though?!
My search for free parking was cut short when I nearly hit some idiot playing chicken at the curb for frills. I ended up choosing a space in a lot on the same block as the spot because I didn’t want to go to jail that day. Ran into O. It was good to see him in one piece after another round of Vegas. We’d gone on the last two trips together on business and somehow managed to intertwine parites, lewd drunkenness, Asian girls and five am visits to Sonic into one big profitable week for everyone. Reminds me of my last farewell breakfast in Vegas that still doesn’t top going straight from Tao to the airport TwISteD the time before but… I guess what happens in Vegas…
What I initially assumed would be a night of chillin in the cut listening to my homie spin records actually turned out to be a cool little kick it evening. Good people, good times…minus Kris (name changed) and his wandering spaghetti hands. Tell me, what the hell gives men the idea that just because an azz is next to them they have the liberty to grab it? I forgot to throw in that he and I met through Sasha, whom he was trying to kick it with, and whom I was trying to convince to come to Heaven and ditch the Memorial Drive Friday Night Fever Fest. What? I had to smack his hands not once but twice before eventually moving along. “Yea, yea, we gotta do business. I still have your card,” he says inching his slimy fingers down my back the second time. Whatever man. If a had a dime for every time. The one thing I can say about being ok with doing me is that I have absolutely no problem telling men like this john (and there are quite a few) to kiss my a$$ whenever it’s warranted. I think booty groping qualifies and he was totally disrespectful.
In the past I’d been afraid of harming sensitive relationships so I’d put up with things or maybe even be a little nice about it and say, “Hey, that’s not right, don’t do that.” Haha!! Please. After the second time I slid my hand behind my back, grabbed his, squeezed his knuckles hard enough for them to crack. I leaned in and whispered in his ear only loud enough for him and I to hear, “Keep your hands damn hands off my a$$ or you won’t have any.” He leaned back and looked at me funny. I got the hell on twitching that same booty in another direction and couldn’t wait to get to Sasha and tell her about her ‘mature’ man.
Minus cool-cool maguillacutty’s antics I had a pretty ok night, and even networked myself into my first writing position as an editor for an entertainment website! I’d just found out hours before that I’d gotten a staff writing opportunity for a Mag based out of NY. Crazy or a reflection of my ‘putting it out there’? I’m still scratching my head at how fast all of this is happening but you won’t see my beeetchin about it. No matter how fast I gotta run to get the good good, best believe your girl is gonna not just keep up, but keep ahead. Thank God for friends in ‘Heaven’ and as for the rest of you, spaghetti hands or not…
Much love. 🙂
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