I've got to say what really pleases me most about Helga now joining me in Queens is that I don't have to listen to the radio anymore. I listen to Power 105 because it seems to be the lesser of the evils of NYC radio which frankly sucks. Generally, the playlists are all unimaginative and they seem to play like 10 minutes of commercials in between the 10 songs they play over and over again. I get a kick out of Power 105 because where else will you hear "Dwyck" mixed in with "Snake?" I get a kick out of things like that. Plus it seems to be like the old school rapper home or something because you've got Chubb Rock, Monie Love, Dr. Dre, Ed Lover plus someone I'm forgetting all with shows. It's great. But, even that station gets on my nerves because if I hear that Pro-Tools enhanced, non-singing ass Ashanti with that fucking "Rock Wit U" song one more time, I'm gonna fucking riot.
Anyhoo, I went to see De La Soul, K-os and Jonzi D yesterday, but because I was having some crazy snowball CPT issues, I ended up on the wrong side of the gates for the second Saturday in a row. I went from relatively chill to mad annoyed in about 10 minutes because it was shit hot and I couldn't have been less in the mood for people watching instead of concert watching. But, I was wearing my Blacula t-shirt and everyone got a kick out of it because when's the last time you saw one of those (unless you went to Wes that is because I wear that thing all the time)?
Unfortunately when you're wearing an interesting shirt, losers try to pick you up by commenting on it as if it's a surprise that something's written on your shirt. "Hey, Blacula! Lemme holla at you, girl!" How about not? ("She mean and plus she too cute.") Sometimes I think I should have a blog just based on the shit that people say to me/what happens on the train. I could post for hours about that stuff. As my father said, pay your subway fare and get a show. But, I'm apparently a "shit happens" magnet, so sometimes it's free.
I went to the party of the kids with the really nice apartment and I didn't get enough time to feel jealous again because I pretty much got liquor shoved down my throat before the lot of us bounced. They were off to some swank establishment and I begged off because I had about $5 in pocket plus in a jeans and Blacula shirt, I was definitely underdressed. Whatever to that though. I didn't actually want to go because I have Midtown Bias. I'd rather go downtown or specifically, the 4 or 5 places I frequent because the crowd is chill and relaxed and I never feel bad about being too lazy to dress up. ("My jump off never ask why I go out so much/My jump off never has me going out of my way/And he don't want nothing on Valentines Day/My jump off don't argue or get rebellious/And he don't mind hanging out wit da fellas/My jump off's not insecure or jealous") I ended up at Sapphire (surprise, surprise) and it was fun in a way it hasn't been for a while. I've felt out of it the past couple times. I haven't been dancing like I used to and spent way more time than usual scowling and hiding in a corner. But, I was out there having a great time. I don't think it's possible for me to say how much I love that place -- and not only because 9 times out of 10 I can in for free and get free drinks. There's something to be said for being a regular somewhere and talking to the staff because you know them. It's like Cheers with a dance floor...not really, but you know what I mean. Plus Jazzy Nice is the best DJ ever. He sucked me into going there last summer when he did Thursday nights. He's on Saturdays now and unfortunately sometimes the music does not even rate if he's not manning the wheels.
I chilled with a Brazilian Indian guy living in Montreal visiting NYC for the week. Follow that? In my opportunity to use the Portuguese phrase Alex taught all of us that crazy night, I fucked it up. I remember the beginning but not the end. I'm disappointed in myself. I ruined a perfectly good party trick. I mean, how often does a girl get the chance to say "I have dick-sucking lips" in Portuguese? Ironically, natch. ("Que tu quieres mujera, said she blow la-la/FLIPSIDE - now she my baby mama") He taught me how to say "I want you" and I parroted it perfectly. Of course I don't remember that either. When Alex gets back, I need to make him give me a tutorial in Spanish and Portugese curses and pickup lines. I'll trade him for some mix CDs or something. Or perhaps take him shopping. He's easy to please.
Most amusing to me was the trip home -- definitely not the missing my bus and waiting 35 minutes for the next one to decide to show up part. I ran into this kid I've seen a few times. He looks like 50 Cent's cousin or something -- totally plausible since he's from this area. Did you happen to see that thing on The Smoking Gun? Fun fact: that's down the street from where I live now. Ah, South Jamaica. Keepin' it gangsta. He's perfectly harmless, i.e. I have subzero interest in him and his game is so weak that I just crack jokes to keep us amused while we wait for the bus. He says I should be a comedian. Nah. My game is the quick wit. I work better playing off of someone. Though, I could totally rock commercials. I give good reaction and I can deliver a line pretty well. I'd probably get stuck hawking Always or something like that though.Posted by Candicissima at July 13, 2003 02:29 PM