The World According to Freddy Vegas

When did you fall in love with Hip Hop?  Before the “Shoulder lean”,  prior to “Bling Bling”, before Escalades with 90 degree Lamborghini doors and 24 inch wheels we loved the music, and the culture that is Hip Hop.  I distinctly recall pivotal moments in my development where I felt the music speak to me.  From the remarkable stories told by Slick Rick, the melodious voice of Queen Latifah (Give It to em Queen) and MC Lite, to the vivid life portraits painted by Biggie Smalls and the muddy lyrical stylings of Method Man and the Wu, it always felt like the music and the culture was my refuge.

I was the king of the “Video Mix Tape”.  I video tapped music videos up until my Sophomore year of college.  It was necessary.  I didn’t have the luxury of a 106 & Park or a TRL to overplay videos I wanted to see.  So I had to make my own countdown.  I would record daily from Yo MTV Raps, Rap City, Video Music Box (NY Stand Up!), and MTV Jams, and stay up on Saturday night to watch Pump it Up.  The time, effort, and PRIDE I placed into this task was unrivaled.  I couldn’t help it.  It was an incredible feeling to see people on television that looked like me, and spoke like me.  During a time when a young person feels like no one understands them, Hip Hop understood me.

I remember sitting in front of my television with a pen and pad, and my VCR remote control so I could play, pause, and rewind the “Check the Rhyme” video.  I had to know every word.

“Now here’s a funky introduction of how nice I am. Tell your mother, tell your father, send a telegram I’m like an energizer ’cause, you see, I last long. My crew is never ever wack because we stand strong”

I did the same for LL’s “Mama Said Knock You Out”, Common’s “I Used to Love H.E.R”, and so many other songs that truly stirred my core.

In the day of the leanin and rockin, I have to say that I miss where the music was; but I’m not going to utilize this current space to once again tirade on how some current Hip Hop artists are wack (even though they are), or say that the music lacks substance (even though it does).  I want to use this space to remember what I call the good times.  The times when you heard that song that made you get out of your seat and say, “Oh SH*T!  Did you hear what he/she just said?  Nah you gotta rewind that!”  Not being able to point out that specific date and time I fell in love with Hip Hop like Sidney Shaw from Brown Sugar (Yeah I watched it last night.), I want to offer some key moments of when I knew that this music, this culture, this way of life was all mine…

In no particular order…

The first time I heard “It’s All About the Benjamins” in the Tunnel (Is the Tunnel still open?), I might have knocked like 8 people over trying to get to the dance floor.

When I realized “I Used to Love H.E.R.” was about Hip Hop, I straight flipped out.  The level of creativity is incredible to me.  I might have rewound it like 10 times in a row.

1998 Morehouse/Spelman Homecoming OutKast performed “Elevators” in the Morris Brown Stadium.  Dre forgot he was supposed to be doing his last verse, but Big Boi caught him and started the right verse for him and they went back and forth and straight killed it!

Big’s first album is indescribable to me.  Lyrically, and production wise it is creative genius!  Then how the album told a story was just…it was just HOT!  Listen to it from beginning to end to this day.

Watching Busta Ryhmes (LI’s Finest) perform “Put Yo Hands Where My Eyes Can See” for the first time in the Paladium.  Yeah, I was definitely not 21.  Good looking out Sike!

Begging my moms to run me to the store so I could be one of the first people to cop “Low End Theory”, which remains to be one of my favorite albums to this day.

The day my man’s brother got a copy of “Lodi Dodi”.  We might have popped that tape listening to it after like a week and a half.

I could do this all day.  These are only a few of my favorite moments.  I look forward to hearing yours.

I Still Love H.E.R…..

So I got alot to say about episode two, so i’m just gonna jump right on in. 

The following are my observations from episode 2, and answers to questions you may have.

1.  Apparently, "Something" was told by the show’s producers, she couldn’t use the facilities at that time.  Does this excuse a grown ass person from relieving themselves on Flav’s floor, then darting upstairs like she ain’t do it.  Nope…

2.  Why does "Deelishis" (I tried to spell it like Flav) look like she been wrestling with Wolverine?  She was actually involved in a serious car accident.  She keeps the scars as a reminder of how lucky she is to be alive.

3.  Was I the only one that felt a kind a way about "Buckwild" rocking an Ace of Spades shirt on her date with Flav?  Too sensitive?  Ok, what about the "Thug" chain and piece?

4.  "Tiger’s" dad is somewhere sick out his mind, that his daughter is parading around with this "less than desirable" character.  Flav better watch his back…

5.  "Tiger" popping the Dentyne Ice after kissing Flav under the bridge was comedy.  My question is, why is this the first time this has happened?  I want to brush my teeth after I see him kiss all of these broads. 

6.  As if we needed Flav to be more "urban", Why he always gotta be gnawing on a piece of fried chicken.  Damn!  He setting us back like 10 years!

Clearly we can’t expect every episode to have a cat fight and/or spontaneous discharge of feces.  But the quotes were just as fabulous.

"That’s Boo Boo Sparks." - Beautuful *Low blow.  Funny as hell.  But low blow…*

"I ain’t gonna lie, but boy did you smell like something!" - Flav  *That’s right rub it in.  You sh*tted on the floor and you smelled like the 4th level of hell…*

"I got the cous cous with the beef tips!  I got the cous cous with the beef tips!" - Like Dat *Ma, you already a big girl.  Stop comparing yourself, and being so overly excited over food…*

"I’m a happy well adjusted person who really likes sex." - Nibblz *YEEEEEESSSSSSS!*

"I’m not a handful, but a full full." - Like Dat *What????*

"While you’re at it, I got the softest a$$ in America." - Nibblz *Ladies and gentlemen, we have a front runner!*

singing "On to number tweeeeeelve…." - Wire *HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!*

"Kung Pao Flavaaa…" - Payshuntz *Kick rocks!  Go back to China then…*

"I’m taking these girls on these boats called gonzoleeas." - Flav *Personally, I think they set him up with this one.  They’re actually called Gondolas Flav.  No "Z" bro…*

"Just let me take my Puma’s off first dog…" - Buckwild *What do I have to do to get a dam plastic bag around here???*

"Ain’t nobody ever did something this nice for me on a date." - Like Dat *You mean date 13 other chicks at the same time.  Yeah Flav’s a sweatheart…*

"Rancho Cucamonga!  That’s my hood!" - Buckwild *crickets…*

"Every time he sees me, i’ma be that girl that did the "poo thing".  That’s orginal…" - Something *You nasty mutha…  I can’t cope…*

"I wanna give you a piggy back ride." - Wire *This chick was weird…*

"I do want dark babies" - Wire *This shoulda been license to slap the taste out her mouth.*

"You prejudice whore." - Buckee *I like this chick.*

"I am about music, so I might as well face it." Flav *How poetic.*

"She need some bowel movement classes." - Bootz *That’s funny…*

"I would have sh*tted if I had to." -Spunkeey *Got say i’m glad to see you go…*

Quote of the Show!

"I’m glad I did it!  Tell me what woman can walk in his house, go poo.  How many b*tches can do somehting like that and stay?" - Something *Is she serious?  How gross is this broad?*

Next week, I’ll give my predictions for the final four…

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FLAVOR FLAAAAAV!!!  FREEPORT HIGH STAND UP!!!

Let us all stand and applaud the programming executives at Vh1 for one more season of Flavor of Love.  Season 1 was great.  Season 2 has the promise to be the best reality television show EVER!  If a cat fight within the first 5 minutes and a chick defecating on herself (How you sh*t on yourself in a place with clean bathrooms?) are predictors of things to come it will be difficult to maintain my composure (*sidebar* Don’t call me or text me on Sunday between the hours of 10 & 12.  I’m watching Flavor of Love). 

For those that possibly live in a Siberian group home, Flavor of Love is the Vh1 “Celebreality” show that attempts to help poor William Jonathan Drayton Jr.(AKA Flavor Flav) find his one true love that has surprisingly eluded him for years.  The ladies live together and “compete” for Flav’s affection, attention, and adoration; which ultimately translates into much comedy.  It’s kind of like watching brain surgery.  You want to look away, but the enthralling, hypnotizing antics of the characters won’t allow you.  This is reality television at its best.

On a really quick serious note; the unfortunate fact of the matter is that individuals with little to no exposure to African Americans, whether it be overseas or Middle America, get a false impression of how people of color act.  The sheer buffoonery of Flavor Flav, and deplorable manor in which these women vie for his attention are reminiscent of a Civil War Minstrel Show.  We have to fight for more positive images in our TV shows, movies and in our music.

Ok, so I know the last two paragraphs are contradictory.  I’m actually fine with that.  Sorry, I’m a work in progress.  If you didn’t see the show, the following is a list of my favorite quotes from the opening episode.  I may post a list weekly.  Let me know what you think, and feel free to post your favorite quotes and moments from Episode 1.  Gotta love that “Celebreality”…

“This $800 dollar hair!  You can’t be pulling people tracks out like that!”

“You want some Lip Chap?”

“Number one, let the fun begun!”

“I nibble too.  Just like Mike Tython.”

“I ain’t skinny, but I ain’t fat, and this is all I got to give.  It’s like that.” (What???  You are fat…)

“You know my last 3 kids was by fine ass latino women.” (Notice the plurality of the statement)

“”My moms Oprah.  My dad Springer.  That’s why I’m crazy and black.”  (I don’t know if she’s black, but she definitely crazy as hell.))

“I exude buck wildedness!”   (Sheesh.  Somebody give this chick a plastic bag to play with…)

”Cause I just got saved.” (HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!)

“…and when you speak in tongues, it’s confirmed *snap* you going to Heaven.” *sips champagned*

“I tongue kissed somebody, but I ain’t never heard nobody talking in tongues.”

“For the record, I have no gag reflex.”

“Yes I would lick a p*ssy.” (Seems kinda gross considering the circumstances of the closing of the show…)

“I did say something consisting of lesbianistic.” (This is just all wrong…)

“I’M SOMETIHNG B*TCH!”  (The one true statement of the evening; again considering the circumstances of the closing of the show.  You something alright…)

“Who’s the snitch up in this b*tch?”  (Where’s that plastic bag???)

This might be the best television quote of the year!

“I was like holding it and all of a sudden my stomach was like b*tch you got me f*cked up!”

Why wouldn’t you watch this show???

…So continuing my tirade on the lack of creativity, and general basura that is being currently called "Hip Hop", I asked myself, am I being too hard on these new "artists".  After all, they’re expressing themselves.  Isn’t that a blessing?  Then I thought back on a conversation that me and my man Durty Sanchez had about bullsh*t Hip Hop lines.  So I decided to use this space to highlight some of my favorite "Nonsensical Hip Hop Quotables".  Feel free to post your personal favorites in the comments section…

"All our whips got navigation, while ya’ll whips is just garbation" - Noreaga, "Superthug" (Just looked up "garbation", it’s so not a word.)

"Dizzy Gillespie plays a sax.  Me, myself, I love to max" - Greg Nice, "Funky For You" (Actually, he played the trumpet. *Pointed out by Durty Sanchez*)

"Do this chick bring it to the light.  Is my body so right I could even tract a dyke" - Baby Stase, "I Really Like It" (This was real creative.  A question and a declaritive clause in the same line.)

"Nice tats on ya body, liquor comin’ out ya pores
Weed stench ya ain’t right, G-string for some drawers
You can call me Mr. Whipple, I won’t do no harmin’
Never to the Charmin, come holla at me woman" - Project Pat, "Good Googly Moogly" (I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Kool Herc and them had in mind for the future of Hip Hop.  I could be wrong though…)

"ay gon n rock wit it, gon n lean wit it, rock so damn hard, u break your spleen wit it" - Dem Franchise Boys, "Lean with It, Rock with It" (I’m no medical professional, but i’m pretty sure your "spleen" can’t be broken…)

"With the goons I spy, Stay in tune with ma.  She like damn, This the realest since kumbaya." - Cam’ron, "Killa Kam" (Word son?  Kumbuya???)

"It’s bout time that she get with me.  Can’t stop starin, she’s fine and she’s pretty" - Too $hort, "Bossy" (I had to add this one.  It just sound stupid to me…)

"Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It Do It" - BHI feat. K-RA, "Do it, Do it (Poole Palace)" (Somebody sat down and wrote this sh*t…)

save the music ya’ll…

"Dope beats.  Dope rhymes.  This Hip Hop ain’t really that hard…" -Phonte, Little Brother, "Not Enough" 

To answer questions before they come, no Kendra is not with child. 

…So I had hard time falling asleep last night.  I was feeling kinda uncomfortable.  I tossed and turned for at least an hour.  I finally found a spot where I was able to be still.  My mind wanders aimlessly before I fall asleep.  In my travels last night, I revisited a conversation I had with a young lady earlier this summer.  I happened to notice she had a tattoo on her thigh; and I couldn’t help but to inquire about it’s authenticity.  She quickly confirmed that it was real by saying "Yeah it’s real.  Me and my sister got matching tats on our 15th birthday."  Holding my head in my hands, I quietly mumbled, "I don’t want no girl child."

Feeling uneasy about the arrival of this realization my  mind continued its travels through the cosmos, and stumbled upon my unborn daughter.  The following conversation unsued…

"Hey baby girl.  I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown.  You look more and more like your grandmother every day.  I gotta say, I never feared another man, and i’ve only been afraid of one woman.  Before I held you in my arms, I was afraid.  Afraid of holding you too close to the point of imminent rebellion.  Afraid of not being able to teach and guide you in a direction that would ensure your healthy development,  mentally, spiritually, and physically.  I was afraid of the battle between the teachings of your mom and I versus all the pressures and external forces that have a way of hypnotizing young people. 

But the day I held you in my arms for the first time, my fear was replaced by the determination to ensure you carried the strength of your foremothers and the faith that the creator would guide us through troubled waters.

Now look at you; all grown up.  I can’t even call you baby girl anymore.  I know you can’t stand my lectures, so I won’t lecture; but take these words with you as you continue to grow. 

Unfortuantely, academically and professionally your output is going to be more heavily scrutinized.  Don’t ever give them a reason to doubt your work.  If they study 2 hours, you study 3.  Be better than those around you, and continue to shine like the star I know you are.

You’re cute, so these n*ggas are going to try to test you.  They’re going to tell you everything they think you want to hear, in order to get what they want from you.  But 9.9 times out of 10, you’ll be smarter than them.  I beg you to be of strong mind, body and faith to overcome their pressures. 

I know what the music says about your place in society.  I know what the videos and magazines say about how you should look and dress.  I also know you’re stronger than all of those institutions.  Yes you are a beautiful woman, but don’t be solely judged upon your appearance.  Hopefully, your mom and I have taught you that your mind and self worth should transcend the desire to fit an archaic mold of beauty that wasn’t set for or by people that look like us.

Baby girl, you deserve all things good.  Your ultimate happiness in who you are is my prayer.  I did my best.  I’m sure I should have done more.  I only pray that what I did was enough.  I love you.  Goodnight"

I finally fell asleep…

"Tiney Winey, Wine your Bum Bum" AAAARGGGHHH! I wish he would turn that sh*t down!

Being rudely awakened by sounds of the West Indies blaring through my fathers powerful sound system meant it was Saturday in my house. Between that and the smell of Cod Fish & Bakes reminded me weekly that my house was different.

My father was born in the Republic of Trinidad & Tobago, located off the coast of Venezuela. My mother hails from Guyana; a South American country nestled between Venezuela and Suriname, right above Brazil. Which makes me, a first generation American, and ultimately different; and the last thing a kid wants to be, is different. From the rules of my house to the way my family spoke, I always felt like my family was from another planet; which is an unsettling feeling for a young boy. I’ll give you some examples.

My maternal grandmother lived in this country for 20 plus years. A fact that would go overlooked considering her thick Guyanese patois, and traditional child rearing methods (She was a real firecracker too boy). I took the bus to my elementary school, and Birdie (as she was affectionately called since her youth) would walk myself and the other neighborhood kids the whole half a block to the bus stop (this was before she convinced the bus driver to stop in front of my house instead), and wait for the bus to arrive. You remember the school bus, loud and rambunctious with kids flying all over the place. Granny used to get on the bus with stick in hand (I told you she was a firecracker) and dare anyone to get out of line. As the bus silenced, all snarling eyes would turn towards me as if I had the stick and the thick accent. This wasnt normal. No one elses parent, grandparent or otherwise got on the bus to ensure proper behavior. If I slide all the way down in the seat, no one will know shes my grandmother. No such luck brother.

I dont care where you grew up. School lunch was WACK! I couldnt wait to brown bag it like some of my other friends. My lunch was always different though. The average kid got a sandwich (maybe Turkey, or Tuna), maybe some chips, some cookies possibly, and a juice. Not me. I got Ox Tail and Rice & Peas, or Stew Chicken with Cabbage and Rice, and a juice. Do you know how difficult it is to learn fractions after a big ass meal like that? I finally convinced my moms to add Tuna fish to the weekly lunch lineup. For some reason, I could never figure out why my Tuna looked different from everyone elses. Years later I learned that everyone else in the world put mayonnaise in their Tuna, while mine was made with scallions and black pepper. Anybody wanna trade???

Apparently in the West Indies, everyone dresses up for the first day of school. I dont mean dress up with your new clothes; I mean slacks, button down, a tie (sometimes), and hard bottom shoes dressed up. No fail, I always had gym class that first day, and could never participate because I got on these damn shoes. So there I had to sit in between the kid with scoliosis, and the new kid that always smelt kind of funny.

A couple of things happened as I got older. Number 1, I realized that most of my friends came from similar Caribbean backgrounds; from Haiti to Grenada and all the islands in between; and we shared similar experiences. Number 2, I stopped caring that the outsiders couldn’t understand or relate to my culture. These same boys and girls turned into the men and women whose reality is defined by a fifteen block radius and the riveting programing of BET. I consider myself to be blessed to have had these experiences in my youth. Embracing these experiences leads me to represent my ancestry and heritage with honor and distinction! That vigorous pride, strong sense of family, easy going spirit and unyielding loyalty are what fundamentally makes me a proud first generation American, but primarily a proud West Indian.

Turn that sh*t back up dad. I feel like dancin…

…So my man PS calls me on Saturday like, "Yo, I know some cats that rented out this gym.  You trying to play ball (basketball for those that live under a rock)?"  After some hemming and hawing, I decided that I would go.  Why not?  I needed the run. 

So we ride out to the gym, shot around for a bit, and start picking squads.  Now this dude (that didn’t get picked up) starts ranting on the sidelines about his overlooked basketball prowess, yada, yada, yada.  I’m looking at dude like, "He’s not serious is he?"  Let me pause here to describe dude.  Your man had on a dingy jersey material, sleeveless tee.  The type of basketball shirt that intramural basketball teams would buy in bulk and print their team logos and numbers on.  No team.  No number.  He combined this with a pair of too long for him basktball shorts that didn’t match.  Standing tall at 5′8, and easily weighing in at 170, his eagerness to get on the floor to disprove his critics was bubbling.

At the end of the day, looks can be deceiving.  Unfortuantely, thats not the moral of this story.  Your boy, after performing an elaborate stretching routine, steps on the floor and volunteers to guard me.  I quickly informed him as well as his teamates that this was a poor strategy.  My counsel fell on deaf ears.  After the game, I couldn’t understand why he was still talking sh*t after being so shamelessly abused.  I’m not talking like scoring a couple of points, i’m talking like abuse and disrespect similar to that of raunchy Taiwanese hooker sex. 

Everybody is good at something, and self confidence is imperative to growth and development.  "I know, I know, yep yeah, you too.."  Basketball’s not your thing homey.  Try knitting…

Sorry just venting…

  …So I was listening to Frank & Wanda in the Morning today (well, half listening, cause the other half was sleep), and they had people calling in naming their favorite Jigga man albums (One dude said Blueprint 2.  Clearly he’s not a Jay fan.  Clown ass…), playing the pop-tart Hov songs, yada, yada, yada.  As I started to wake up more and more, I speculated, are they about to announce The Return of S. Carter to the game???  Are my suspicions about a "comeback" album under the name S. Carter called the "9th Wonder of the World" correct???  As my excitment built, I was quickly brought back to earth when they announced the 10 year anniversary of Reasonable Doubt (Argueably, Jay’s hardest Album), and his Radio City Music Hall concert that was sold out in 15 minutes. 

While this was relatively exciting, it made me start to think how much I miss hip hop.  Acknowledging that I am somewhat of a "Hip Hop Snob", in that I regularly hear this trash on the radio they call "Hip Hop", and turn my nose up in disgust, I still see some value in the diverse Hip Hop "experience".  Now that Hip Hop has gone global, it’s influences and topics of discussion have followed suit.  So at the end of the day I can’t get mad at her for "Shaking her Laffy Taffy", or him "Snapping his Fingers, doing his Step", and who can can resist E-40 "Tellin Them Where to Go"?.  HOWEVER, am I the only one who’s fingers are sore from snapping???SH*T!

Sean can we get an Encore??? please……

Growing and maturing, watching the people around me do the same; i’m witnessing an ushering in of a new stage of our development.  Everybody’s getting damn married! *Still dodging fruit*

I believe in this whole "Honor & Obey", "For richer or for Poorer", "Till death do us part" deal.  I really do.  Love is a beautiful thing, when it’s right; and i’m honestly looking forward to making that transition.  However, (lightweight playing devil’s advocate) can someone explain to me the difference?

Aside from the religious and legal aspects of marriage, what’s the difference between a "Committed Boyfriend" and a "Husband"?  It is my contention that there is no difference.  The responsibilities and actions of both roles mirror each other.  Those that disagree, I offer these three points.

3.  Do you stop being a committed boyfriend after you transition?  No.  How many times have we heard, "We don’t "date" anymore."?  In my opinion, stoppage of this aspect of romantic relationships ultimately leads to the demise of said relationship.  The best piece of "marriage advice" (if there is such a thing), I have ever received was to never stop treating your woman like your girlfriend (This definately works both ways ladies).

2.  If you complete the requirments for a baccalaureate degree, but don’t go to graduation, are you still a graduate?  Yes!  So why this whole hoopla over getting married?  It takes 30 minutes to have a wedding, but a lifetime to have a marriage.  I am of the opinion that too many women place far too much emphasis on having this Cindarella wedding and not on developing, and nourishing a strong, committed, LIFE LONG relationship.  *I’m gonna take a lot of heat for that one fellas.  I feel it already…*

1.  Searching for an official definition of "marriage", I found that none of them utilze the word "committment", which I believe is a fundamental principle of a successful partnership.  Taking this into consideration, I would argue that the committed boyfriend has a stronger attachment than the husband due to the fact that the husband’s only attachment is the "legal union" (Merriam-Webster’s Dicitonary of Law, 1996).  The concept of commitmment in my opinion is much stronger.  Ladies, which would you rather?

the state of being united to a person of the opposite sex as husband or wife in a legal, consensual, and contractual relationship recognized and sanctioned by and dissolvable only by law

OR

the state of being bound emotionally or intellectually to a course of action or to another person or persons

As a "committed boyfriend", I look forward to the backlash and comments from this one.  Tell me how you really feel…

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fertile mind

*NOTE*  I’ve had a couple cocktails.  My grammar and Spelling may be off.  FOrgive me.

Yes it is almost 2 AM Tuesday morning, but I had to get this off my sternum immediately (Hold up I gotta pee).

Ok, so i’m not really a dude that party’s on Mondays anymore.  In an effort to maximize my energy, I rest up for the explosion on Thursday’s, usually.  Then I can go til Sunday no problem.  Tonight, my man JJ was celebrating his bornday, so I made an exception.  I’ll slide through buy my dog a drink, have a couple myself, and bounce.  Early night right.  Nope!  This dumb broad had to piss me off, and force me to write this blog about her dumb ass. 

So, i’m at the bar chillin with my Corona, planning my escape, casue i’m pretty much ready to go.  These 3 chicks walk in, and speak to who ever they know, and end up next to me at the bar.  I’m not going to front, I noticed them.  They were all attractive.  I got the cap on low just being easy right?  Out the corner of my eye I peep them talking bout me.  I continue not to acknowledge them.  # seconds later, the badder of the two taps me.  The following conversation ensues.

Shorty - Hey

Me -Hey

Shorty - What’s good to mix with Vodka?

*PAUSE* Grown ass people still ask these types of questions???

Me - Cranberry Juice

Shorty - Nah that’s regular give me something else.

Me - Red Bull

Shorty - It taste good?

Me (becoming increasingly annoyed now) - It’s ayite, and it’ll get you bent quick.

Shorty - Why don’t you buy one for me?

*PAUSE*  WHAT???  You’ve got to be kidding me!  Do I look like that corn ball ass n*gga that be buying chicks drinks so that they will talk to him?  No day do I resemble that cat!  I got a bad chick at home!*

Me *with the most disgusted look I could muster up*- Nah i’m good.

You know, I don’t even blame her though.  I blame the last 15 clown ass dudes that bought this chick a drink.  But ladies, what happened to, "The shoes on my feet, I bought it!  The house I live in, I bought it!"  Where’s "All the women Independent, throw your hands up at meee"?  It’s no secret that I enjoy a good party.  Especially when i’m with my peoples.  If i’m drinking we all drinking.  That’s just the type of dude I am; but what type of chick are you jsut to be willy nilly beggin for a drink from a stranger?  The sad thing was like 20 minutes later some sucker was buying her and her girls drinks, and they left his ass right at the bar holding a bill.  Sucker!  Grow a set!

I will admit to being a little harsh in this blog; but i’m right dammit!  To all the ladies that don’t subscribe to this type of behavior, round on me when I see you.  The rest of you broads can kick rocks!

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Oh yeah, comments are welcome…