Monday, June 23, 2008
*disclaimer* Extreme Pettiness Beyond This Point
You have read the disclaimer and been warned. If you are a person who works full, part time or on the side as a valet attendant please give input as it is strongly appreciated for the purpose of justifying the pettiness of this blog entry.
Saturday night the ladies and I did it up for *insert party name*. We went back and forth about going to this spot all week and were very glad the decision was made in *insert party name* favor. I will go over details of the beginning of the night and the end of the night as the middle has nothing to do with valet, clearly. Upon arriving at aforenotmentioned spot, we attempted to look for parking for about 2 minutes. As females wearing 3 inch heels, walking 18 blocks after a night of dancing is not what’s hot in the street at all. How cute can you be limping with a balled up face? Anyway, we chose to valet.
I guess I should have felt privileged that about 4 valet attendants bum rushed my carriage at one time. This was new to me and I felt overwhelmed so I started hiding and locking stuff in my car, you know blackberry car chargers are priceless! I was greeted by the warm and friendly sounds of “Yo yo ladies wassup yall trying to valet?” Oh okay. So we asked how much it was and he said “$20 for ladies $40 for the fellas”. I must have stated that over again in my head like “when did Valet start having flex rates”? This is strange.
Fast forward to 2:15 am. After 5 shots of tequila, 1 golden margarita, 2 shots of Ciroc and 1 bottle of water, I came outside to get my car and take the ladies home. I couldn’t find the valet guy. No, I couldn’t find the whole valet crew. I looked at my ticket to make sure it was legit because I immediately flashed back to the “yo baby yo” greeting and thought I’d been jacked. I walked around a few minutes and then the attitude kicked in. I walked back up to the front and asked where valet was. A nice strapping muscle bound man wearing a badge lead me over to the group of men standing halfway down the block congregating, who were in fact the valet crew. He gave them my ticket. While I waited in true “BAG LADY” form I vented. You see the people who threw the aforenotmentioned party are friends of mine outside the club scene. I do care about them and the business they do and if I feel that something will cause a decline in attendance at their events I’m going to say something. So I spoke to the gentleman about how unprofessional it was to address people in that manner when you are doing a service. I also told him that this is a nice party people spend a lot of money getting ready for it, getting in, and spending money inside and everything about the scene should be on point. I also told him how distasteful it was to charge $40 for valet for men and women $20 when men spend more money getting in and getting themselves and US drunk. He said that men will spend the money either way and I asked him who does his marketing analysis *flips hair*. If you spend $40 in valet, $40-$60 to get in, that’s $100 before the first Lil Wayne remix comes on. That means that that guy and the four ladies around him will be a lot more sober than if he had an extra $40 to burn. I mean what if the parking garages started doing that it would be mayhem! So we ended the conversation with a handshake and I assured him I wouldn’t let this rest.
Now let me tell you how this indirectly affects the purse game. Somebody’s man spent $40 to park his car that night. Now suppose he was going to buy his girl/wife/jump off/ a bag but that $40 made him think harder about how he spends his money. He began to think about how expensive it is just to be a man in America. He felt that it’s not his fault that he is a man and spends more money taking care of the household, buying meals, paying for vacations, tipping the Chinese delivery man etc. He thought about all the times when the check came and the waiter gave him the bill and the lady was re-applying lip gloss. (Telling on myself.) He thought about the cologne, socks, polo shirts, underwear and other reasonably priced items he got for his birthday and Christmas while he bought jewelry, purses, shoes, iPods, GPS systems etc. He thought about the heat on the back of his neck when he had to leave work to go and change a flat tire because she left her AAA card at home. (Again telling on myself).
This guy has had enough. He cut up his credit card, changed the pin # to his bankcard, and decided to go on a strict budget. There was no ringing of a cash register that next day after he paid $40 to valet park his car because he was a man. He and she had soup for dinner instead of Outback.
And there you have how Valet indirectly impacted a future purse purchase.
Bag Lady, attorney at law *snicker*
Friday, June 20, 2008
I was sitting in what appeared to be the lobby of a huge club. I was dressed in all black, which is typically how a roll. I was holding a purse but I couldn’t tell what kind it was. I do know that it had feathers on it. I’m assuming that is a combination of things I saw on the SATC movie; you know Carrie had a damned bird on her head. Anyway, a couple walked past me. The woman was a tall slim blonde with a big red flower in her hair, looking fresh off of Dancing with the Stars. The gentleman was a tall brown skinned man with salt and pepper gray hair. They looked sort of mix matched yet equally yoked in the height and build department. When he walked past me he said, “Do you like her purse”. She replied that it was okay. He then goes on to say “I’ll buy you one like that except it will be real”.
*Insert VERY long pause*.
So all of a sudden there was a gay Latino man next to me who popped up saying “I know you not going to let them talk about your purse like that”. So I rolled my eyes and leaned forward and said “Umm excuse me this purse is REAL…” *flips hair*. The gentleman looked at the lady and she said. “Where did you get it from?”
*Insert another VERY long pause*
I had no idea where I had purchased this feathery disaster. Right there with the blonde, the brownie and the Latino I sat there with the inability to properly formulate a complete and concise response and I am a speech-language pathologist damnit! After the uncomfortable silence I said, “It was a gift”. (Um whatever anyone who would buy me that is not a friend). So the couple laughed at me and the Latino guy looked disappointed. The blonde said, “Your bag doesn’t have the PPO tags on it”.
Readers, I have no idea what a PPO tag is but when I looked down at my bag it had a lot of price tags on it. Now you know that is a big no no with purses.
How many of you have gone to a store and had to dig down in the pockets of a bag to get the price tag? If the price tag is hanging on the bag with plastic well…you know. I remember looking at all the LVs on EBay and noticing price tags hanging on them. I actually got one, clearly before I was as well versed as I am. I showed it to DenyseG and she stamped it RETURN TO SENDER and saved my purse life. That was the start of a beautiful friendship!
Anyway, that was my nightmare; a bad purse (bad meaning bad not bad meaning good!), a snooty blonde with a red flower in her hair, a slim brownie and a gay Latino fan. I woke up and wanted to run through a brick wall at full speed. It must have been the tequila and jerk chicken wings last night. I would have rather dreamed that George Bush was re-elected for an unprecedented 3rd term. YOUCH!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
If it wasn't in her purse you can rest assured she would pull it out of the purse she was born with. Yes, the space between your boobs and your bra is also for all intents and purposes (Not INTENSIVE PURPOSES) a purse.
I hated it. Lunch money, gum, Tylenol, chap stick, a band aid, stamps, post it notes or a map leading to the Holy Grail she had it in her "purse". I thought it was the worst. I was always so embarrassed especially as I'm trying to get out of the car for school and she reaches down in her bra for my lunch money. It wasn't so bad after I saw other mothers doing the same thing with horrified children looking on.
Well, the thing that most children dread about their parents is being like them. Yes I do utilize my natural purse, much to the terror of those subject to knowing where I keep my single key, money left over when I don't have pockets in my scrubs, lip gloss and whatever else I can fit in there without giving the appearance of a bag of acorns. The natural purse comes in handy when you don't want to carry a pure into the club or you have no pockets. Guys don't mind your natural purse at all and they will have you holding things for them, if you're lucky its their credit card. A sportsbra is like carrying around a hobo bag!
I'm going to be buying my braziers in a cup size larger so I can fit cool things down there for easy access. Watch out for the summer though, because your things can get "moist" down there. YUCK. I just grossed myself out. Let me go to bed.
*taking off purse*
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Well ladies and gentlemen, I did it. I crossed over from my twenties to my thirties with blazing glory. Most of the people in my circle know I’ve been planning my 30th birthday celebration for the past 3 months. With the help of some great promoter friends (Thanks MITCH and MIKE), my beautiful crew and countless others I was able to have one of the best parties I’ve had or have gone to in years.
The celebration started off at PURE Nite club on U Street. Two of my friends from Undergrad at Clark Atlanta University, Angel and Robyn, flew in for the weekend, and of course the infamous Tab was there! We had an entire section to ourselves compliments of Mike Walker and WeRunDc.com. It was so great in there that night because of the live go go band that put a go go twist to old and new songs. You know how they do ;) The crew was small that night with a group of 4 females and one guy but we made enough noise to sound like a high school marching band.
I literally crossed over to 30 pouring a shot of Cuervo down my throat. We danced, Angel walked it out, we people watched, I talked to a dude in a full length skirt while my crew sang “you are the last dragon” in the back ground. Walking back to the car I broke out into a private birthday dance while Robyn posed for the camera on a bike parked outside ….ha!
I’ll let her tell her own story in a comment on how she felt the next day.
I was so lucky to get an invite to have lunch with Robyn and her uncle at The Towers, a country club located in Tyson’s corner. This is the type of spot you go to and you have to act like you have been somewhere before. You have to know which fork to use with which food group. White table cloth and napkins, perfect décor (Glad I wore my LV bag), and a great view.
After regrouping we got showered and dressed for the birthday dinner at Fogo De Chao. The place was packed with late prom goers and families celebrating graduations. After the order of service was explained, green for more red for stop, we found ourselves in marinated meat heaven. Beef, pork, chicken, lamb you name it they had it. A few people always had their cards on green but I won’t say any names in order to protect the innocent and glutinous. I tried to taste as much as I could but my stomach was telling me that the pot was full. I still just want one more piece of rib eye steak! My stick partner Danielle handled this event for me and worked out the bill so perfectly that we all gave her a round of applause. I’m so glad that went well because I hate large party dinners and you know why! People tend to forget what they ordered and that tax and gratuity exist in this country. We all met back up at my house for some of Tab’s homemade Sangria, and of course…SHOTS!!!!
This was the busiest day yet. Unfortunately Robyn had to go back to the airport so we got her there safely. Then it was time for 10 ladies to band together to see Sex and the City. What a great movie and the fashion was top notch all the way. The only thing I didn’t like was the fact that Jennifer Hudson’s character got her bags on Bag, Borrow or Steal. I could have thrown popcorn at the screen yuck! Samantha had the illest purse game in my opinion particularly the white quilted Chanel tote! *drooling* After a movie like that it’s only right to go to the mall and that’s what we did. I didn’t buy a bag this time but I damn sure molested one or two!
While getting dressed for the big party we experienced a pretty rough but brief thunderstorm. It was 100 degrees that day and a storm is inevitable. It would have had to be a tsunami to stop us from partying. After some minor glitches in the matrix, I found myself walking up onto the third floor at Café Asia being greeted by warm smiles from familiar faces, beautiful decorations and flashing lights. The section given to me was so perfect; we had our own bar and plenty of room. It was as if I had a private club upstairs. We were entertained by Nikki G (Beyonce’s drummer) and another marching band. I know it sounds weird for the club but trust me it was and sounded great. A party isn’t a party if DJ Alizay isn’t spinning and spin he did and dance we did. Well at least the pictures say I danced. I had a beautiful cake made for me and designed by a good friend of mine and I’m getting so many requests for a slice days later!
I don’t remember too much of the night after about 1 a.m. but here are some of the things that I heard about myself:
I heard that I tried to cut the middle of my beautiful Damier Speedy cake.
I heard that I am a hugging drunk.
I heard that I am capable of cussing and being unruly. (Sorry Charlie)
I heard that I can cut and serve cake very well after several patron shots.
I heard I take flirting to a whole new level.
I apparently tell blatant lies.
I heard that I am an excellent negotiator.
Overall what a party. WHAT A PARTY. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. Folks made huge sacrifices to spend those 1-3 days with me. Flying in from out of town, driving up and down, spending money hanging out with me, the gentlemen making sure all the ladies were safe after the club, the gifts, and the hugs the love. I couldn’t have asked for more. Sunday morning I cried happy tears. I couldn’t believe how many people showed up to support me. I even had a friend limp her way into the club with me ace bandage and all. Folks that I only knew from a few emails and a message board showed up to show see me into my thirties. I felt and feel great. I don’t like that I don’t remember so much about the night but hey what can you do; not remembering means I did something right! I’ve said it before but I just can’t thank people enough for the cards, the gifts, the champagne, the quality time and just a great overall weekend. This will be one of the moments in time that I will think back to when I hit those low moments. I have over 200 pictures that will remind me I am loved.
Because of all the gaps in my memory, I’m relying on all of those who were there and have their own memories to fill up the comment section with just that! I’m sure we have some good stories to share (and some not so good maybe?) If one of the stories involves me and nudity let’s leave that out :)
Monday, June 2, 2008
Rakim aka Rakim Allah aka The God MC aka The G.O.A.T. is ultimately and without question my favorite MC. One of the first rap videos I remember seeing was for “I Ain’t No Joke”. I know all of the words front and back. As I got older I could actually appreciate a lot of what he was saying. No talk of bling, pushing kilos, iced out grills, fully loaded Maybachs, and pouring out expensive champagne on cheap women. Rakim’s purpose was to remind anyone that doubted why he is better than you. I live for stuff like that. I love when folks can say they are better and have all the ammunition to prove it. Who honestly can’t say he wasn’t. Rakim was ahead of his time. He didn’t need a catchy hook or chorus. Just bars and bars of pure lyrical madness . My Melody is arguably one of the greatest compositions of hip hop ever created. “I take 7 MC's put em in a line; And add 7 more brothas who think they can rhyme; Well, it'll take 7 more before I go for mine; And that's 21 MC's ate up at the same time” WHAAATTTTTT. How can you come back from that? You can’t so just have a seat.
I’ll probably never get a chance to meet Rakim. If I did I’d probably be too afraid to talk to him. I mean dude doesn’t smile and I’ve never heard him talk much outside of vicious lyrics. So I had an idea. What if I could interview the God MC? Well I don’t know anyone that knows him. I don’t know anyone that knows someone that knows him. But, I went to undergrad at Clark Atlanta University where the motto was “FIND A WAY OR MAKE ONE”. So I made one. I came up with a few important questions that I would like to ask Rakim, and I interviewed him in the quiet comfortable confines of my mind using lyrics from My Melody. Here’s how it went.
BL29: Hi Mr. Rakim thanks for taking the time to speak with me. If you don’t mind me asking what is your real name so that I may address you properly?
RTG: My name is Rakim Allah, and R and A stands for Raswitch it around, it still comes out R
BL: Umm oh okay, so I’ll call you R? Great. Well sir you are my #1 favorite MC. I’ve even heard of others MCs who call you their favorite. The part I like about you best is your lyrics. You are a lyricist. I’ve heard of other rappers like Biggie and Jay Z not writing down their lyrics, how did you create you masterpiece?
RTG: As I memorize, advertise, like a poetKeep you goin' when I'm flowin', smooth enough, you know with the rough you know with the rough That’s why the moral of my story I tell will beNobody beats the R, check out my melody
BL: Needless to say we haven’t been graced by your presence in quite some time, how do you feel about yourself in comparison to other MC’s still in the game?
RTG: I'm number one; competition is noneI'm measured with the heat that's made by sun
BL: Well if I wasn’t a fan I’d say “says who?” what makes you stand out from the rest?
I'm not a regular competitor, first rhyme editorMelody arranger, poet, etceteraExtra event, the grand finale-like bonusI am the man they call the microphonist.
BL: Microphonist I like that. I should call my self a purseophonist!
BL: Okay next question. There is so much talk of violence on wax these days. Everybody wants to shoot their rival MC off a stage and snatch his chain...ugh? Are you the gangster violent type?
RTG: Easy does it, do it easy, that's what I'm doin'No fessin', no messin' around, no chewin'No robbin', no buyin', bitin', why bother
BL: Yeah well folks don’t bother dudes that don’t smile too much anyway. So earlier I stated that an MC should move the crowd. A lot of them have such a horrible stage presences (Sorry Jay) but presentation is key in a live performance. So you think you were/can be able to maintain and audiences attention when they not only are listening to you but are watching your every move?
RTG: In a rhyme, why waste time on the microphone; I take this more serious than just a poemRockin party to party, backyard to yard; I tear it up, y'all, and bless the mic for the gods
BL: Well you got me convinced….
RTG: Wait, I’m not done. If I was water, I'd flow in the NileSo many rhymes you won't have time to go for yoursJust because of applause I have to pause
BL: WOW. Well hey just afford me the courtesy of front row seats and we are good. One last question. How do you feel about the Christian Dior Gaucho collection? I mean those bags are hot like fiyah but Jeez Louise the prices are astronomical!
RTG: The who?
RTG: And that is a what?
BL: A purse.
RTG: Did you just ask me if I liked a purse? I came to express the rap I manifest. Stand in my way and I'll veto, in other words, protest
BL: Sorry, remember you are in my head and I get easily distracted. Darn that eLuxury.
RTG: *straight face*
BL: My unusual style will confuse you a while
RTG: I said that, that’s my line.
BL: I think this is a good stopping point. Thanks for sitting down to chat and don’t step on anything valuable on your way out.
RTG: *Ice grill*