So.
Aaron will understand when I say "I was wearing the mushroom 1-up cap". Basically since I bought that thing at Comic-Con it has always without fail ended up with me having a story to tell about my night out, whether it be drunken Michigan housewives trying to trade it for a map of their homestate or me randomly slapping the ass of of a birthday girl--the 1-up comes out, and the situations "1-up" from the normal.
Tonight, Ivan & I hit the club late. We didn't intend to, because my first caveat was "no clubbing tonight, I'm still recovering from Saturday". Of course, once I heard the beats everything changed. But we were slumming: jeans, me in my new "I'm Rick James--enjoy yo self" shirt. SLUMMING, ya understand. Eventually after walking around the Gaslamp we end up at Rock Bottom. $5 to get in, so what the hey. I'm dancing around, doing the scouting. Four girls in a group, all in love with each other and not in the fun way.
And a hyperactive redhead who keeps dancing and dancing and playing with her hair...
...neurons now moving...
...connections being made...
...it might be...could be...but naw...NA--really?
It's my life. So of course, it actually is Christy Hemme.
And then, a moment that goes down in the Rosser Canon. I think about it, and then I ask her if she's her. Which she is. But that's not the punchline.
SHE BLOWS ME OFF WHEN I ASK HER TO DANCE.
She walks out of the club, and I start cracking up. I don't know why that was my reaction, but even now I think it's one of the three funniest things to happen to me all year and might be the funniest. I stagger laughing like a maniac (in the middle of "Culo" no less) to Ivan, tell him that was worth $5, and go. So we spend the next hour and a half absolutely shredding Christy and going on what I can only describe as a "keeping it real" jihad. Current list of excuses I'm working on:
1) I still have the sniffles and she was afraid to catch something with the flu shot shortage.
2) She's gotten too Hollywood.
3) RACIST.
4) I was wearing my slumming clothes.
Please feel free to add on to that, by the way. So between shredding her--actually, I'm going to pause and keep doing it. Like she better than me. Paid the same $5 I did. Wasn't no magic $5. If she was really up on shit she'd be in On Broadway or E Street Alley at a place that cost $20. Like she better than me. PFFT!
So between that, we smoked premium orange hookah, flirted with the countergirl, and sent Amanda a myriad of dirty, filthy text messages that will be reproduced on request. Good times, good times.
First she got Gail Kim fired, and now this. Do anything for the fans MY BLACK ASS!
It's a good thing I found out now, because I didn't want to wake up in April hating myself for getting with someone so self-involved and living a shallow husk of a life. I wouldn't be able to live with myself! Why?
CAUSE I KEEPS IT REAL!
So shit on her, shit on Hollywood, shit on all you fake-ass C-list bitches, shit on the radio, shit on the Republicans, and if you don't like it you can get in line to suck my fucking cock; the line forms behind Trish and y'all can argue about the order after that.
Boy, you just wait until Iyari hears about this next year, she's going to fuck her up...
THE PUNCHLINE: Had to work a biker convention today (Saturday) and guess who got her own introduction?
Small world.
Ambient music:
3 comments:
She's HOT. What show is she on?
(Yes, I'm a traitor, what of it? :-D)
(Estimated time from reading this that my last name over there changes: 10 seconds with a 2 second margin of error.)
Actually, I thought of something funnier:
"What a biggedy bitch!"
The first, last, and only thing that went through my mind when you dropped the teaser on us earlier:
"Do you make $100,000 a year before taxes?"
Post a Comment