Midnight Marauder

It's Friday again. Fou.rth Fri.day to be exact, and once again I'm having anxiety. I moved venues and I'm not sure if they'll be as prosperous at the new location as they were at the last. The last venue was pretty much a dump, so the patrons oughta be satisfied. It's summer and now we got a patio, so that's something, right?


I'mma treat this bitch like a costume party. I'm dressed like a southern lawyer with a seemingly crusty exterior, but actually has a heart of gold. "Why I'll represent that boy PRO BONO. Young rapscallion!"

Last night was interesting in the way that non-sexual activity is interesting sometimes. I went to the midnight premiere of The Simp.sons Mo.vie. This is an event I've waited for since I was 18 years old. I knew the dub would fuck it up the experience.

I had to be the oldest bastard there by about 7 years at least. These young fuckers hopped up on mar.iju.ana and Red Bull were the most irritating people on earth. This one cat was trying to save 10 seats IN A ROW. What part of the game is that? This is the movies, not a fuckin' conference or a cafeteria. You don't fucking need to sit 10 deep in a row. Why is that necessary? It was inconsiderate in a crowded theater. I'm glad I was already seated when he tried to pull that shit. I watched cats move to accommodate him. I bet he thinks that what life is like. Maybe it is for them.

I saw the movie and there was no way it could have lived up to my expectations. I wanted it to wash away the Millennial Si.mp.sons, basically. Erase the sins of the last 7 years where I watched the writing get lazy and downright stupid, where I watch out of habit and not because I expect to see anything funny.

Well, the movie is not a miracle worker, but it does DEFINITELY deliver the funny. I laughed throughout. The opening is hilarious if you like gratuitous violence. I'll probably go see it again so I can catch shit I'm sure I missed during prolonged yells of "whoooooo!" over dialogue.

That's all I got.

Be Easy,
KZ

The Silver Platter

I'm writing this, and I don't fully expect you to believe it. It'll be the truth. And it's not outside of the realm of reality. But it's really out of character for me. I've been here for a minute, so people who read my archives might not get it. Here goes:

I was doing my Fourth Frid.ay hosting duties, this past week on a third Friday so's not to conflict with the coming Memorial Day Weekend. We had a decent crowd, a little lighter than usual, and everyone was enjoying themselves. So much so, that they stuck around for an hour after I made the announcement that the event was officially over. I told them that the Brothers would be heading to Mario's, this martini bar that had been our official post-Happy Hour haunt. I saw her, but I didn't see her, just like everybody else. Yeah, all the women were focused on me, I had the fuckin' microphone. No big deal, right? She was about 5'8" in flats, long curly hair, light-skinned with a face dotted with freckles. Her eyes followed me.

So when I left to go to Mario's, I didn't expect much of a turnout. We usually have around 15 people who come out to the "afterglow" thing. Most of the regulars weren't there. Sam was in Gh.ana, the DSTs had a conflicting event, so it was just me leaving for Mario's.

I sat there for two minutes when they started streaming in. We had a total of seven, one of them was her. Kali had her girl and two of her cousins with her, one of which was celebrating a birthday. She also had came with one of her extraneous girls and the VM ended up joining us. The extraneous girl demanded attention and I gave it to her. Mainly because Kali sat near my right side, staring at me, and the extraneous girl was on my left and extremely non-threatening. So I gave her my full attention.

Drinks flowed and I indulged. So much so that I retreated into my customary shell and I let them talk to each other. I was fairly lit when the former Mayor/current state representative came up to me and introduced me to one of his colleagues. The birthday girl being attracted to "power" bounded from her seat and chatted up the two politicians.

I sat drinking slowly and silently until I felt my calf being rubbed. I looked to my right and Kali stared me in the eyes, smiling. I leaned over and whispered, "Don't do that. Please" as I took her hand away. She started rubbing it again. "Why not?" "Because I got a girlfriend." "That sounds like your problem not mine. Where is she?" "She's in Detroit." "If y'all all like that, why ain't she here?"

I grabbed her hand. "Kali, you don't know me, so let me say something to you. I've been the African you want me to be. I've fucked without a conscience, I've treated women like pure shit. I've been married before. I wasn't a particularly good husband. But I'm trying to do something, one time, the right way. I really am. Don't try to make me that African. I don't wanna be that African. I wanna be better. For my girlfriend. For me. OK?"

She looked at me intently. She pulled her hand away voluntarily, got up and walked to her cousin, who was still kickin' it with the politicians. I got up and went to the bathroom and pissed out rum and diet coke. I looked in the mirror as I washed my hands, looking at the gray hairs peeking out from under the newly dyed brown ones. I dried my hands and walked out and there she stood.

"What's wrong? You lookin' for the bathroom?" She walked up and kissed me square in the mouth. I stepped back and wiped my mouth. "What was that?" "Something to remind you how far away Detroit is." All I could do is shake my head and walk away. I went and paid the check and I left.

The next day I drove to Detroit.

Be Easy,
KZ

The High Price of Being Nice

I had my little Fo.urth Fr.iday adventure this weekend. Once again, it was a rousing success. The theme was "Intro to Ballroom" and we really got some heads out with that shit. I'm a born cynic. I've never been into that ballrooming/stepping thing they love so much in the "D". It was like you're a fuckin' outcast if you can't do it. I always felt like you were a sheep if you could. So I perfected my "you'z a bitch" glare.

Which, coupled with my derisive laughter and my cocksure stance, made for a pretty good deterrent for Africans I knew not to do that shit around me.

But here I was, hosting an event where people were being taught the fundamentals of this shit. I got on the floor and did my thing too. I gave the young cats in my frat the chance to stand back and laugh derisively at me. Turnabout is fair play, I suppose.

People enjoyed themselves, though we had a problem with the women to men ratio. We were swimmin' in women (not literally, yo!) but brothers who were there had wives and chicks with 'em. The single cats couldn't spread around enough. Coupled with the fact that most of them were arrogant to the point of being standoffish, it made for a bad scene.

The dude teaching ballroom was a cool old dude, though he had a little problem with his plural tenses. "All y'all mens and womens git on the floor."

I don't think I need to be the host anymore. It's a lot of responsibility for the little shit, the in the moment shit. It's a small assed event with about 80 people, but I'm stressed leading up to it and I'm exhausted right afterwards. Dealing with music choice, food, money, event theme, giving direction to the bartender, and keeping folks happy. The worst thing about it is being a nice dude leaves you open for a lot of shit.

If you're too nice to a broad, especially a woman not considered "traditionally attractive" (like that euphemism?), she's offering you the pussy. Right then, right there. You can take that home that night. No questions asked. At least until the morning, when that question is "Are you taking me to breakfast?". If you turn it down, you gotta find the coolest way possible to do it or else your little event gets sabotaged. The life-blood of your event stops showing up and you're ruined.

That's all I got for now. Stay tuned.

One,
KZ