Friday In The Chi

The prodigal child dropped down in Chicago on Friday morning. The night before my manager and I had some words about my time off this weekend as well as the upcoming weekend so you know Monday it is on and popping! But that’s another story…

I landed at 6:30 am at O’Hare and of course I was dead ass tired. Due to my fear of flying I have to be extremely sleepy or drunk to really relax and enjoy my flight. While the flight in-bound was not bumpy, flying doesn’t really sit well with me. And I was sitting on the wing so I’m constantly scanning the wing for dents, missing screws, basically anything that will cause me to pry open the emergency exit and take my chances free falling to earth.

As soon as I landed I called my best friend SIGMA to see what he was doing which was sleep. Usually I sneak into town and just show up at folks’ cribs unannounced but knowing him and his baby mama drama, I didn’t wanna have to wear someone in the middle of the street within an hour of my homecoming. He was “sleep” of course so I decided to head home and see my niece. “Sleep” meaning “I got another girl at the crib so Ima holla at you later when I give her the boot”.

Went home to my niece. Woke her from a sound sleep and basically dubbed her as “my baby”. Oh my gosh yall she is sooo cute! I mean she has a funny looking head (hey she’s family so I can tease her) and she has a funny looking hairline but she is like a HIGH YELLOW me (according to my mother). I don't see it but when I compare pictures, she does resemble me a little bit. But where the hell she get that coloring from? Is she a “Maury” visit in the making? But then again once upon a summer sun in Mississippi my brother was red-bone. Now he's a reformed dark skinned person. Reformed meaning as a kid he was high yellow but too many forced visits with the High Noon sun has toasted his ass. And *gasp* she has “good” hair. Her mama’s gene has finally dominated over that Nappy Hair Gene. Well who knows, I means she’s only 8 weeks so who know how that hair is gonna turn but for now it’s soft and wavy. She was basically glued to my side when I was home although I did get someone for the "poo poo" diaper. I'm sorry but Tenacious doesn't do "doodie" diapers. I was tempted to stash her in my suitcase but then again I am irresponsible and a baby would cut into that 3-5 pm nap time and the boyfriend is not “baby proof” yet so I had to leave her at home. As much I act about kids, deep down I <3 children. When it’s time for me to make that leap, I plan on using the finest of adoption agencies.

*LOL*

I’m still out on actually popping one out myself. I mean I have a figure to consider you know!

Then, as usual, the STALKERS emerged. Only one (out of the usual three) this time and then I sorta acquired a new one on the bus ride home. Some snitch apparently told JDUBB nutty ass I was making a return so while on the Blue Line my phone just started getting blown up. Now Chicago ain’t like the Metro in DC. For the most part, it’s still bootleg but hey it’s familiar to me so I knew my signal was kaput in the tunnel. When I get above ground, I call the number back once again assuming it’s someone I know and want to talk to. It’s his ass. Once again spitting his usual rambles. Of course, I hang up after the 2nd “Bitch” escapes his mouth. He has used up his “Bitch” anytime minutes a long time ago. I get my typical voice mail and he’s just like he’s going to run me over (yet again) when he catches me in the street and I better not come in his part of town because he’s going to get his 15 year old niece to jump me. Why he acts like this, I still am out on that. I mean damn it’s not like I was dishing out the platinum puss back in the day or something. I mean damn! He still acts like we broke up recently or something. Damn SIX YEARS is not enough time to get over someone? I mean someone break it down to me about his issues? Is it abandonment issues? Is he just plain crazy or what? He needs to pray or something. Get thee behind me Satan or something.

Then on the bus this dude named JOEY turned out to be a habitual stalker. Now since I’m back home, it didn’t take me long to revert back to my Chi-Town ways. See in DC I’m usually all nice and bashful about rejecting a dude. Ok well sometimes I gotta get gutter but usually I’m just like “No thanks. I have a boyfriend” and keep it stepping. Most of the guys in DC leave it at that and go about their business. NOT in Chicago. A n*gga is gonna talk the digits out your ass. They ain’t giving up. No matter what you hit them with they have a rebuttal. Of course when you just snap and be like, “Damn N*gga you ugly! That’s why you ain’t getting my number. Hot Breff Ass” you get hit with the “F*ck you B*tch you wasn’t cute no wayz” line. SO you know you gotta hit them back and you got back and forth usually with the threat of “F*cking someone up” thrown in the mix.

Now although I still have a Chicago area code on my cell phone (my family just refuse to invest in a long distance plan) I tell dudes this when they try for the number, you know as a simple way to cop out the conversation. I let them know I live in DC and I’m just home for the weekend. Of course I get the “B*tch you lying” look but usually it works. They won’t call me because they think I’m on game or better yet giving out the infamous “sent off” number. You know n*ggas in the Chi ain’t wasting day time minutes to check to see if the number is real. They wait until they get home and get on the house phone.

But JOEY was a cute little chocolate cutie and you know chocolate is a weakness of mine. But dude was thirsty. As in he called me 10 minutes after he got of the bus thirsty. Over all this weekend dude has blown up my phone with texts and phone calls like 30 times. Even after I explained to him my “3 calls per day” rule, he continued to call. I’m like, “OK this n*gga is a bold one. You will respect the “3 calls” rule”. He was promptly ignore after that but you think a n*gga woulda got a clue or something but he did not. This of course ended in a cursing out.

I went to a function at my cousin’s school. While I don’t like her, I do support her in her academics. Of course JOEY stayed blowing up my phone. So I snuck out the presentation to give him a piece of the sane part of my mind. This fool had the nerve to cop an attitude because I was out and about.

HIM: Where you at?

Me: Excuse me?

HIM: I said where you at? I’ve been calling you all day and you ain’t picking up your phone? I know you ain’t with another nigga…”

Me: Whoa. Whoa the f*ck whoa. Who the hell you talking to? No better yet, am I f*cking you or something? Did you slip into the p*ussy without me knowing or something?

HIM *obviously feeling them big ass balls he have to talk to me like he’s my man or something*: I’m talking to you! Nah we ain’t fucking but you ain’t gonna play me like a nigga on the side street or sumthin’

Me *crazy laugh*: Little boy you must have gotten me sooo f*cked up! Don’t question me like you my man. Last time I checked, I left him in DC. And since obviously you’re not him, I advise you watch how the f*ck you talk to me. Naw bump that. Your wack ass can lose my f*cking number because I am so not on this with you. F*ck you think you are to question me? Do you know who the f*ck I am? I’ll rip that muthaf*cking sharp ass tongue of yours out your f*cking mouth and hang that sh*t to you! Don’t f*cking call me no more!!”

*CLICK*

Of course folks were looking at me like I was crazy and of course that didn’t stop him either. *sigh* Why must people test my gangsta? He then sends me a flurry of “I’m Sorry” texts and “Please Call Me”. N*igga you infringing on my texts plan.

The program ends and SIGMA finally get around to calling me. He would come kick it tonight but baby moms found out he was entertaining another girl last night and it’s going to be a long night for him but we made plans to get up Saturday before the wedding.

I go out with my other best friend to a club called Secrets. I never felt so happy to be around “Chicago” music in my life. Of course we did out ritual stop by White Castle’s and Rothschild’s for some quick eats and a 5th. Of course the ghetto birds were out in full effects. B*tch had the nerve to ask me was my hair a weave. Hell naw my hair ain’t a damn weave! Now Secrets is a ghetto ass club. Meaning parking lot pimping is mandatory, at least 3 fights are going to break out (possibly a shooting), the bouncers are reformed prisoners who don’t have a problem with beating a nigga down or putting dudes in a choke hold during “pat down”, and there's more females that look like bust down strippers in the club than anything. Not a natural hair in sight. Weaves all colors of the rainbow. Most didn't know a spandex shirt they can refuse and many just determined to show every single bit of cellulite on their bodies. Stretch marks looking like war wounds and sh*t. Just proudly showing it off like it's a tattoo of womanhood. Ran over shoes and toes were like “the thing”. I felt overdressed compared to a lot of girls in the club who obviously think panties classify as “bottoms”. But I did go in and shake my ass though. We got in VIP which was this big ass space complete with a stage that was like 7 feet off the ground. It was so many people in the area I was afraid someone would fall out the stage, namely me! This girl kept bumping her sweaty ass on me, inching me closer and closer to the edge. I think she was doing it on purpose. But I was on that stage shining though. Shaking the cheeks and everything. Sure all some girls needed was a pole and a garter belt but all in all I had a great time.

Until I got hit on by a lesbian. I’ve been hit on before by lesbians. I don’t know, do I look “lesbian” or something? I mean damn do I look like fair game or something. I am so straight it’s funny. Another woman can’t do sh*t for me but bake a cake and I don’t eat everyone’s cooking. Of course, a patent quote from my grandmother.

I must have left my “I <3s The Penis” membership card in the car.

She would not give up, even going as far as to grind on me. I mean at first I thought she was just making “party small talk” but when she got too close for comfort, I backed off and let her know the deal. She kinda shrugged and went to caress my face. YOU DO NOT TOUCH TENACIOUS FACE! That is likely to get that ass tapped. I have no idea where (or what) them fingers have been into. Hello, I still get acne! I don’t know genital bumps on my face as well. So I walked off and next thing you know this broad has her hand on my waist pulling me toward her.

A hard ass shove solved that problem of course. B*tch stumbled and kinda hopped up like she was about to get gully. I’m already kicking off the shoes like “WHAT”? Of course ghetto bouncer hopped in between us and I told him to get her ass outta here before I have to slice a b*tch. My rowdy best friend wanted to hunt her down but I’m here to party not to fight.

While I don’t have anything against lesbians, please leave me alone. I’m not even on the same book as you let alone the same page. Do you. But please leave Tenacious out of it. The Chicago ones tend to be really aggressive. Like they’re hitting on you whether you’re gay or straight. Like they’re recruiting new members and sh*t. Of course all Chicago lesbians are not like that (so Chi-Town lesbians don’t email me hate mail) but some are on that. Like they just going strong-arm the p*ssy out of me or something. I don’t play that. Only experimenting I do is in the chem. lab and I almost blew that sh*t up sophomore year in High School.

When the club kicks everyone out, we parking lot pimp for a few before the wind chill drove our asses into the car and I went home. It was like 5 am when I made it in. Moms gone to the ‘Boat. She left me a note telling me I better get my ass up in the morning so I can go to the wedding.

Oh yeah…I almost forgot about the wedding…