...I guess it is Tuesday already. Shot outs to Erika, The Herb, that dyke ass hating bitch Rebecca at the happy hour spot, and the lovely ever so fantastic Miss. Soul Eclectic!
Alright for Clay Cane, my hero. He is busy creating buzz with his new book, Ball Shaped World. I would hyper link and all that, but I can't on this fuckin MAC of mine. Damn the MAC!! But I am so very proud of all of the new black gay writers that are bringing their stories to the world. I just love the fact that we are such a multi-faceted group. There are so many dynamic, talented, bright, writers that are coming out with new work...it's going to be an amazing book year in 2006! And a much better touring year. I can't wait to work with some of the new authors like Clay, Blair Poole, Shelton Jackson and a few others that are on the brink of success.
So me, my cousin, and Erika do Happy Hour (Margarita Mondays) at the Cantina (But why do I get so excited when I blog though...) every week. They know us by name, and the antics we provide. A few weeks ago we had a conversation about Rebecca, the manager of the joint in her "Rosie O'donell suits, and her 'How You Doin' Shoes on," she was just a bitch to us right off the bat. Tonight we finally figured out the reason why...but a few weeks ago, Erika had to bust out the Black Amex on her ass to get her right...So tonight, we were out on the patio drinking and all like that, there were about four dudes that were already out there. They were like the poster children for margarita Mondays. They were the typical white kids that you see on the TV screen at all the football games with their stomachs painted with their team paint and blah blah blah. But they were wasted and acting retarded, and it was cool to see someone else in their inebriation for a second...Cause I got a chance to see how I look when I really look fucked up.
But the white dudes started to smoke some strong ass weed out on the patio. We didn't give a fuck, it's whatever! So the shit was strong and reeking, everyone wanted some of the weed right...Then here comes Rebecca, with her direct, but indirect notion that it was the blacks smoking the weed. Why do it always gotta be the blacks smokin' reefer? I mean, Erika is a sworn in peace officer, me, I despise the weed smoker, and my cousin is on probation, and at any given time we all have to submit to randoms...so we stick to the drank.
So not only did miss Butch Cassidy and her sunflower children come out and ask us to leave because we were smoking, by the end of the night she followed us to the car and tried to take down my license plate to report us! So the white boy, who's name was Trent (right) got loud with her and called her a dyke, which didn't help the situation-and tried to say that it wasn't us smoking the weed, and no one at the table was doing it. But Ms. Man just didn't take no for an answer, she kept going like the energizer batteries in her strap on Richard. UH. I didn't say anything, I held my tongue, can you believe it? I think it was a test from the master of the universe.
So don't think that the three of us wont be calling corporate on separate occasions tomorrow...I love it when the Trent Jackson cameras are rolling...my life makes the perfect reality show...and dont think they didn't make me brandish a weapon today.
More on that story and more tomorrow, a muthafatha is drunk! Oh and fuck you fake bitches who think you know me! Fuck what I say, meet me in person before you assume anything about me!
Shout Me A Holler
Fuck A fake Bitch
Catch a brick
You dusty hoes!
LOL...I have an attitude problem, and my disposition is fucked up too! All that and more after 10 posts
I love my readers!! (No Pun Intended)