Thuggin Love.

Spring 2007; The plan had been set into motion. Three guys would have their night out and women were not to be involved. All three men liked women just fine, however sometimes for the sake of a man’s sanity he must occasionally abstain from a gender that he does not fully understand. Cologne, sweater-vests, blazers and shorts were all on the fashion menu that evening for these three dashing men. The decision had been made to head to the “Gay club” in the area, due to the overwhelming evidence that if any good music is to be heard it will most likely NOT be played at a predominantly straight establishment (especially in the Midwest). The plan of attack has been formulated: Three straight male dancers will go into predominantly Gay nightclub and take it over with incredible dance, charisma, shoes and sweat.  Should be easy enough in the minds of these three chaps. Each of them dancers who take pride in dancing  rather well when the opportunity presents itself to show off, plus dub-step does not exist yet ( let’s face it-shit was easier before dub-step came along) . Even all of the right racial factors are set into play amongst these three men to make them a formidable dancing triple threat:

·         Black male, slightly below average height in excellent physical condition with a fresh set of Corn rolls, no kids and a practitioner of the hip-hop styles.

·         White Male, well above average height, in excellent physical condition with an aggressively receding hair-line (not that the women seem to care to be quite honest), no kids and a practitioner of the Modern dance/hip-hop styles.

·         Puerto Rican male, of average height, in excellent physical condition, with slick Puerto Rican hair, no kids (that we know of) and a practitioner of Latin Dance and Puerto Rican Judo. 
Truly quite the trio to be scene my fellow Americans. Clearly...it’s goin down!         

      Our travelers finally reach their destination and dancing quickly ensues. Good music, plenty of dance space, that strobe light shit that is known to cause seizures and not a pretty girl in sight (the less distractions the better). At the midway point of the night our black male decides to sit down, embrace the sweat running down along his brow and enjoy his lemon flavored malt beverage. Out of the corner of his eye he notices a 6’4’’ tall Dominican man wearing an oversized white t-shirt, baggy pants (without the proper assistance of a belt) and Timberland's staring at him intensely from the right side of the club. Thinking nothing of this discovery our black male gives the Dominican gentleman the standard head nod and quickly directs his attention back to his lemon flavored malt beverage. Through the use of his peripheral vision our black male notices that he is still being stared at by this rather tall Dominican fellow as if our black male friend were prey. Undaunted our black male quickly finishes his drink and makes his way back to the dance floor only to be stopped at the last moment by the Dominican giant. Conversation unfolds as follows:

·         6’4’’ Dominican Man- “Sup Shawty?”

·         Black male (slightly below average male height)- “Ummm...Did you just call me ‘shawty?’ “

·         6’4’’ Dominican Man- “Yeah Shawty...sup with you?”

·         Black male (slightly below average male height and realizing that he will never use the term “shawty” to describe anyone or anything for the rest of his fucking life)- “Oh ya know just kickin it with my homeboys; ya know tryin to get down and have a good time.”

·         6’4’’ Dominican Man- “Yea, that’s wassup. I seen you gettin down over there, you got some moves. You look real nice.”

·         Black male (slightly below average male height and frustrated because he is starting to realize how women must feel, plus his song is on)- “Thanks. Well I’ma get back out there brotha, have a nice night.”

·         6’4’’ Dominican Man- “Oh you just gonna dip out on me like that? HAHA, we just started talkin. Look, real quick, the tall white boy over there....is that your man?”

·         Black male (who, for the first time in his life, was assumed to be involved in some type of interracial dating that actually did not make him feel good)- “What?!?! Nah bro, that’s my homeboy.”

·         6’4’’ Dominican-”WORDDDDDDDDDDDD. Well how bout this... What if I was your man?”

·         Black male (now frustrated that his favorite song has ended and sensing this could be some down-low nonsense)- “Ha, oh no brotha.  I’m not gay.”

·         6’4’’ Dominican (with stone expression)- “Oh, neither am I (as he motions with his head in the direction of the restroom).”

·         Black male (now having confirmed that this is in fact some down-low nonsense)- “Ok look I am not on the D/L and even if I was you should at least have the common decency to have bought me another fucking Smirnoff. I mean seriously you took up my favorite song with all this business. Could have at least bought me a Smirnoff. I’m sure that when you go to the straight clubs on Fridays and hit on women you buy them drinks. But here you are on a Saturday night and not only do you try and pick me up, one of the 3 confirmed straight guys in here, but you don’t even have the common decency to have bought me a drink for all this!? Kinda weak bro.”

·         6’4’’ Dominican Male (incredulous and walking away)- “Pshh... what a waste of time.”

·         Black Male (now feeling 7 feet tall)-”NO SIR, WHAT A WASTE OF MY TIME! WHEN DANITY KANE IS PLAYING I SHOULD BE DANCING, NOT DEALING WITH YOUR DOWN-LOW TOM-FOOLERY. WHEN YOU LIE TO THESE WOMEN I HOPE YOU AT LEAST BUT THEM A DRINK!!!!”

Dancing continued until closing time and our three travelers returned to their respective locations at the end of the night. Morals of the story:

1.    When Danity Kane is playing there should be no talking.

2.    Men on the Down-Low...STOP IT. Be who you are honestly and you will save yourself and others alot of confusion.

3.    If you are still too scared to be who you are, and insist on acting straight on Friday and being gay on Saturday, at least offer to buy both sexes a drink while you inconvenience them your dishonesty a drink for Christ’s sake.

4.    Dub-Step sucks. No, it sucks.

 

On My Radio.: SUMMA-SUMMA-SUMMA TIME (Will Smith Don't Sue My As...

On My Radio.: SUMMA-SUMMA-SUMMA TIME (Will Smith Don't Sue My As...: "In a fashion that is consistent with the impending doomsday that is set to befall mankind in October of this year the weather (across much o..."

SUMMA-SUMMA-SUMMA TIME (Will Smith Don't Sue My Ass).

In a fashion that is consistent with the impending doomsday that is set to befall mankind in October of this year the weather (across much of these United States) has switched from intense dreariness to sweltering heat. It should be obvious to us all that the universe has grown weary of easing us into seasons and finds much more enjoyment in thrusting us into each changing season (like a baby shot out of its mother's uterus as if it were a cannonball). I quite like getting to the point on such matters to be honest, which is why I'm quite thrilled that summer is finally upon us. Over the nest 80-95 days I can expect to see girls... girls walking, girls walking past me, pretty girls walking past me, pretty girls walking past me in shorts, pretty girls walking past me in shorts with nice legs, pretty girls walking past me in shorts (with nice legs) that have “team player” written on the back of said shorts. Needless to say I do always seem to get the very worst neck cramps around this time of year.

If there is to be one drawback to all the goodness that could cultivate from this summer season it will undoubtedly be the health of my damn neck. Always having to look back/up/down/around at something/someone to properly assess a situation and come to the conclusion that such activity can only happen during the months of June, July and August. Always aghast or taken aback by an event so intertwined with the heat beaming down from above that at times I cannot distinguish between reality or if I am viewing some vitamin c deprived (love me some orange juice) mirage. Many may not believe, but one would be hard pressed to argue against these:

1. Women in shorts- This should come as no surprise to anyone who knows of me and the way I talk or write. I am truly convinced that the female form is the best thing I have ever seen in my entire life. Worse yet, female features become disgustingly amazing during the summer-time. Why, you ask? Shorts and sandals. Yep, that's about it. Women wearing shorts and sandals is a truly magnificent thing and is only trumped by man's inability to get shit done whilst the fairer sex is walking around in 90 degree weather . If there is a man reading this think of all the days you have wasted simply looking at women walking/running down the street in the summer. Now think about how productive the rest of your day was after being constantly bombarded with such imagery; You were supposed to get your oil changed and hit the gym...Nope. Supposed to help your mother with the lawn...Missed that one. Made a promise to your girlfriend (your girlfriend you lazy sod) into looking for employment... Yeah you said you would, but we know you enjoy not working anyway (“why work when my girl does).”
2. Terrible rap music blasting through car stereo's- You mutha-fuckin right it is going to happen the same way that it happens every summer. Let us paint this picture:

• Beautiful summer afternoon. YOU are walking down the street.
• Everybody and everything is looking beautiful.
• Pretty girl/boy just smiled at YOU as YOU walk past each other.
• Feeling generally optimistic about life and what the next day may bring
• Suddenly (insert blaring rap song coming out of a 2001 Volkswagon Jetta that sounds like shit...for the fuck of it lets say its a Lil Wayne Song)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VAynIX8WT8 You can like this song if you want....still sucks ladies and gentlemen.
• • YOUR neck snaps back/up/ in whatever direction the car is headed.
  • Car is being driven by a White/Black/Puerto Rican/Indian/Asian man or woman (race and sex rarely ever matter it this point because its always a shitty rap song-Never a good one).
  • Hopes of the good day continuing have immediately been compromised. You walk now feeling annoyed and thinking to yourself “What do people see in Weezy? He sounds like a chipmunk! I'm going back inside to the air conditioning.”
   
  3. Men wearing Sandals- I hate to be terse, but men and sandals simply have no business occupying the same sentence. A lot of good men, whom I know, and consider dear friends wear sandals. Despite my otherwise good dealings with these men I must say “SHAME ON THEM.” In a mental survey I conducted it has been discovered that 97% of men who walk this Earth (over the age of 18) have hideous feet with mild foot odor. What thinking and rational male would expose this physical flaw in themselves to the world around them? Frat Boy Conservatives? Yes. Justin Timberlake? Sure. Trust Fund Liberals? You know it. Jean Claude Van Damme? Well he is from Europe isn't he?! I guess in the end it is no business of mine and maybe my eyes should not be venturing down at the ground to view a man's gargoyle-like feet...Point is, if men were not wearing sandals I would be writing about this shit online.
  If I haven't already made my point on the sandle issue I doubt that anything else I could say would be more effective. Lets be honest...The sandles issue was wrapped up within the first 3 sentences.
  .