Sorry it seems to be taking longer than ever to tell everyone about my vacation because work has been kicking the left and right side of my butt this week. Not only am I working back to back alternating shifts *working until 11 at night, coming back at 6:30 am the next day*, apparently everyone at work has forgotten how to do shit and of course have been bugging the hell out of me.
Umm did I not go on vacation for a week so why are you asking me about something that happened last week?
And did I mention we have two new workers and apparently they are to “shadow” me?
Saturday….*sigh* What can I say about Saturday?
I haven’t been thrown out of a club in months *well since May* but I came real close to being tossed out on our asses Saturday.
I know what else is new right?
The night started off nice enough, we’re in the club having a grand old time. Of course we would be partying out in ghetto ass Dolton, a suburb of Chicago that over the years have became one of the “ghetto Black” suburbs that only Chicago can be known for.
You know the type of club that is shut down monthly due to an obnoxious amount of health and safety violations, I mean sure live wires hanging from the ceiling is hot to def you know and the rats and roaches, shit don’t front like you ain’t never had roaches! The names changes frequently and let’s not get on the police presence outside of the club.
And of course these clubs are infamous for the street brawls and “shutting the club down” antics that I actually rarely see in DC. Shit on any given Friday and Saturday in Chicago you might have to run for your life in the parking lot because some idiot decided to “up them thangs” because someone scuffed up an Air One or brand new Timberland boot. So you know I had to strap on the bullet proof vest under my dress because DC has spoiled me *I haven’t had to dash through a parking lot yet* and I was not trying to get my black ass shot because Black folks in DC don’t act as much as a fool in the clubs like Chicago folks.
Well they probably do, I just haven’t hit up those clubs yet. I avoid Maryland due to a couple of incidents when we lived out there for a short spell when we first moved to the area. I stick with DC clubs but since they tax out the butt sometimes I guess folks have the sense not to fight in a club after you’ve paid $20 plus to enter.
Downtown clubs tend to be a little classier but further out…eh you get what you pay for.
Why TWIN chose this place I can’t comprehend. I think she thought since 92.3 DJs out the club sometime that it would be a hot place to hit up, which it was, I ain’t gonna lie, but the club is as ghetto as it can get.
I mean I remember when we would hit up Nitro in our little jean outfits, sneakers, and typical ghetto wear, you know the little cheap outfits that we loved to death. Boom X outfits, Parker Jeans, FuBu Sport, that kind of thing. But maybe college has spoiled me because now I would not be caught dead in the club with a pair of sneakers on. I’m suffering in my stilettos. Damn that. In fact I buy cute outfits just for the club. Fitted jeans, expensive shirts and skirts, little flirty dresses that type of thing. You know what you typically see in the club nowadays, basically everyone trying to out dress everyone. Either that or out skank one another. I’m not wearing the moon boots, the sneaker/boot combo thing that I hate with a passion, Air Walk boots *although they are kinda cute*, the knee high Timberland boots for ladies…anything in my opinion that looks either too young or too “ghetto”.
This obviously was not the club to rock “classy” outfits
So TWIN, FH and I felt obviously overdressed since rocking stilettos I guess was not the norm at the club. We were asked a total on 7 times that night were we coming from a wedding or something because we were dressed up.
Umm yeah….FH was rocking a cute one piece gaucho outfit, TWIN had this outrageous skanky red one piece suit aka “Skripper Gear” and I had on a little black dress. And I do mean little *lol*
So you know we’re already being ice grilled.
FOOL and a whole bunch of his friends met us up there and for the most part we’re chilling in the booth, clowning and shit. We’re straight roasting on folks because apparently stretch marks are in. I mean I have never seen that many tire tracks in my life. Worms for days on many of these broads body. Breasts looking like deflated water balloons, weaves all nappy and crooked.
Just hot ass messes basically.
Apparently we were “bougie” because we were “dressed up” in a sea of Moon Boots and Akademiks jean outfits.
But ask us did we care?
And the “Butches” were out that night. Licking their chops at us. And most of the chicks that were lesbians at this clubs dressed and looked like straight up dudes. Hair corn rowed to the back, baggy outfits, sneers, and just walked, talked, and acted like straight up men. I mean you really had to look closely at some of them to see if they were a man. Mainly I checked for sport bra outlines and chest that did not look “masculine” swole. And of course earrings. Many wore small hoops which is a no no for men in Chicago…unless you’re Michael Jordan.
Funny enough it was the “femmes” that were coming to holler at us. In particular me. In particular that their “girlfriends” sent them over to holler at me for her. Yeah it’s not that kind party going on over here but rather than risk a confrontation and possibly get that ass whooped *some of them bitches were some big bitches* I politely declined and played the men extra extra close.
Of course I was teased all night as chicks have been approaching me since high school. I mean gosh I know I’m adorable and all but something has got to give.
In the words of my ever wise-cracking grandmother: ”A woman can’t do nothing for me but bake a cake and I don’t eat everyone’s cooking”!
But still we had a blast. It had been a nice minute since the entire crew has been together since we’re all stretched over the US with FOOL really being the only one who still lives in Chicago and of course we live through him.
Although he did not tell me about the Pink Line. Thanks Mr. Mack for the clarification. And yes the “Pink Line” is really lame. I mean there are other colors in the rainbow you know other than “Pink”. What was Chicago thinking?
We’re juking to good ol’ House Music, one thing I love about the ghetto clubs is that everyone, asides from the thugs of course, dances. There’s none of that posting up at the bar or against the wall, too pretty to sweat. And the DJs actually know how to blend and chop songs properly. And none of that New York crap that spews from the speakers at DC clubs. When will they learn that every song that comes out of NY with a beat does not classify as a “dance” song. You do not dance to every single Jay Z song!
TWIN had some creepy “Old Man in the Club” stalking her on the dance floor, circling around us like a hungry shark, waiting for someone to move so he can make his mark. No matter where we moved he was there lurking with the pedophile glasses.
I’m dancing when someone taps me on my shoulder....
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