Please excuse the interruption of my plans for an “I dug…in 2008” series of posts, but I feel that I must share the experience that I had last night.
I went out to a co-worker’s birthday dinner with my friend. The dinner went well. We had good conversation. I hadn’t seen him since August and we figured that we wouldn’t be able to see one another until maybe next September. So he was going to the club with some of his dudes, so hey! Why don’t I come along too?
First we went to Studio 72. Nice interior, but it was so dead. Nice music, but it was so dead. The bouncer was cool. We talked to him for a while. But the club was so dead. But I got my favorite drank. Ama-ama-amarettooooo sour! How was it? Oh, it was great! Except for the price.
Poor, spoiled me. So accustomed to five and six dollar dranks.
Amaretto sour in a big cup in Savannah: $6.
Amaretto sour in a tiny, skinny cup in Atlanta: $8 plus 20% tax for credit card use.
My attempt to drink every drop of liquid in that cup to get my $8 worth: Priceless.
After we left Studio, we went to E.s.s.o ultraclub and lounge on Memorial Drive. Contrary to Studio 72, this club was packed. It looks small on the outside, but it’s so huge on the inside. It’s what a club should look like.
While still in the parking lot, my friend asked a security guard making rounds on his golf cart how much admission was.
“Twenty,” the guard says.
Haaaa. Twenty, I thought. Twenty for fellas! Bet I get in so free, bay-beeeeee!
“How much for the ladies?” I ask, so sure that his reply would be zero dollars.
“Twenty for everybody tonight, ma,” the guard says.
Dang. Dream shattered.
Luckily they take cards at the door ‘cause I sure didn’t have twenty bones on me. And for twenty dollars out of my account, I bet it was gonna be so great. Wrong again!
First I went to the restroom. This was a memorable moment in itself. I have never been to a bathroom with a table full of various hairsprays, Vaseline, and lotions available to the female clubgoers. I have also never been to a club restroom with a restroom attendant who not only gives you the soap to use when you wash your hands, but also has lollipops and candy for sale on the sink.
(Note: My friend later explained to me that some girls bought these lollipops to suck on in the club in order to appear sexy…and to suggest their experience/skill in oral sex. Horrible.)
I exited the restroom and went into the main club part. Wow, so many people. So many men! And as my friend later pointed out, few women. Which explains why few people were dancing. Basically I spent the evening posted/walking around with the dudes I was with. Why didn’t I dance? I didn’t want to get lost and left all alone. There were too many people in there and as a female, I was not trying to get separated from the only people I knew out of the hundreds of people in the club.
The music was good, but the DJ kept talking and then switching songs before they finished. And then he kept asking for crowd interaction that didn’t apply to me. I’ve never felt so little in a club before. For example:
“Put ya hands up if you was born up north!”
I was born in the South.
“Where my Midwest folks at!”
I was born in the South.
“If you 27 or older, sing this shit!”
Okay, I just turned 21.
“Where my Africans at!”
Oh, there's a group over there, but I’m African-American.
“Wait, wait, wait, hold up. Y’all not understanding me. If you Black up in here, you African! That’s where we from! Put ya hands up!”
Wait…
“If you went to an HBCU, get ya hands up!”
I go to SCAD.
“If you got a college degree, put ya hands up!”
I’m still working on it…am I the youngest person here?
So after a little while longer of that and standing and walking around some more, we finally went home. And home is not right around the corner. I drove my friend home and then went home…and got there around 4 am. Which my parents were not happy about. But that's another story for another day.
And that was my evening.
Oh well. Every experience is a learning experience.
- K. Rocka
I dug:
I knew the rest of the world was on crack because of the holiday season, but I didn’t realize that I was as well…until yesterday.
I don’t know what happened, but it seems that the most fine, attractive, sexy, ballin’, chocolate-vanilla-swirl’d men in the metro Atlanta area decided to be at QuikTrip yesterday. I had just gotten gas and had to go inside for something. On my way from the gas pump, I just happened to turn and what did I see?
A dude with some fitted jeans, a tailored shirt, some fly kicks, a fly pea coat, and a fitted. And he didn’t even need shades on to complete his outfit ‘cause he was…whoa. I don’t know if I said “Oooooh” out loud or in my head, but I was excited. And then I looked at the dude coming out of the passenger side of his ride. And what did I see?
His friend who was just as fine if not mo' fine.
So I kept walking and watching and walking and watching…and walked right into the back of somebody’s car.
Thankfully, nobody saw me. If they did, they didn’t say anything.
So I went into the store, took care of my business, and started to walk out. And what did I see?
A dude with a swimming & diving sweatsuit on. Small waist, big upper body, and a whole lotta sexy. I wanted to throw him on top of that cappuccino machine and just become his biggest fan. Remember that psycho movie Swimf@n? That was about to be me.
Then when I got home, MTV decided that they wanted to play those Bod body spray commercials every other commercial. As if I hadn’t seen enough fine men that I could never have. Now MTV wants to show me 1000 Bod body spray commercials. And remind me of how single I am.
Crack.
On another note, I’m not too impressed with the new Britney Spears video because I wish she would dance like she used to, I’m not sure how I feel about the new Soulja Boy video, though I don’t like the song, and I can’t get ‘I wanna make love right na na na’ out of my head.
Happy holidays!
- K. Rocka
I never realized how crack the holiday season is until just recently.
It seems that as soon at Thanksgiving is over, all rules of civilization go far, far away. People drive even worse than they did before. They forget their manners. They lose their damn minds. And they are constantly in my way.
Below are a few choice examples:
I was in Marshalls this past weekend trying, trying to find a gift for someone. I go to the restroom and what is sitting all alone in a buggy in the wide, wild open? A baby. A baby all alone in a buggy next to the Liz Taylor perfume display.
Lesson: In this world where fools snatch up kids and try to sell them and do all kinds of wild mess…I need people to not leave their babies in the wide, wild open. Thanks.
Later during my Marshalls visit, I went to the men’s section to continue my search for the gift. What do I see and hear? A little boy, maybe five or six, bouncing a basketball very rapidly and loudly. How long did this go on? Oh, the whole ten minutes I was in the men’s section. Where was his mama, you ask? Oh, right there shopping with a girlfriend and not paying attention to her child. I’m not sure about everyone else, but…I grew up hearing that bouncing a basketball (or any ball) is an activity for outside and in gymnasiums. I wonder how much attention his mother would have paid if I grabbed that doggone ball out of her son’s hands, threw it halfway across the store, and asked him where the hell he thought he was ‘cause he sho nuff was not outside somewhere or at the Boys & Girls Club gym.
Lesson: Get your child. Thanks.
Today the Keyshia Cole and Jamie Foxx albums were released. I take my Keyshia Cole and Jamie Foxx very seriously. So imagine how I felt when I went into Best Buy today and saw the top rows labeled ‘Keyshia Cole: A Different Me’ and ‘Jamie Foxx: Intuition’ empty.
Now I had already decided that if Best Buy had the nerve to be sold out of my CDs, I was gonna bust somebody’s ass. No Keyshia? No Jamie? Oh, okay. That's fine. No questions.
I’m bustin’. Somebody’s. Ass.
I planned to get loud, starting with the drop of my purse and keys followed by the exclamation of ‘Oh, HELL NAW’. I planned to make it impossible for anyone to calm me down. I planned to not respond to requests such as “Ma’am, please calm down…” or calls such as “Security!”. I debated on throwing the Soulja Boy Tell’Em CDs in every which way in protest and to fight off any approaching security guards (you know, for additional dramatic effect), but I concluded that, that activity would result in me having to pay for something, so I decided against it.
Basically, I planned to act a fool.
Luckily for Best Buy, there were a few CDs left on the bottom rows. A group of guys were just blocking them. They were Keyshia and Jamie fans as well.
Anyway, I was excited and of course wanted to hurry up and check out and bump the music in the car. Oh, but no. It’s the cracked out holiday season, so only two registers were open and of course the dude in front of me in line decided to buy the biggest TV in the Dirty South and pay for it in cash.
I think the cashier was more irritated with the guy than all of the people in line.
She said, “Take this survey on BestBuy.com and be entered in a drawing for a $5000 shopping spree! Have a good night! Thank you!”
But what her facial expression said was, “Next time, buy this damn TV on BestBuy.com. The hell is wrong you? Get out of my face. You make me sick.”
See? The holiday season is crack, guys.
- K. Rocka
Oh man.
If you've failed to pay attention to the world of R&B, I would like to inform you that Brandy is back. Her album Human hits stores tomorrow.
I will be buying it so fast.
Despite the negative attention the tabloids have given her during the past few years (surprise, surprise), I never stopped liking her. I grew up in the 1990's and Brandy was it for me since "I Wanna Be Down", "Baby", "Best Friend"...all that, all that.
However, I think that what I most appreciated about Brandy was her overall image. She was different and not on the cusp of being a teenage sexed out sex robot. She was a good girl and a constant role model for me throughout my childhood. She was one part of why I've always opted to not do certain things. To not wear certain things. To not do certain things. Even if all of the other girls were doing certain things. Basically, I opted to be a good girl...just like Brandy. 'Cause Brandy was my girl.
Honestly, there weren't (and still aren't) an abundance of positive and successful female African-American stars on TV when I was growing up. It helps to see someone who looks like you doing something right and not doing something stereotypically stupid.Moesha was huge for me as well. I loved Moesha. OH. MY GOODNESS. I loved Moesha. (If you haven't seen it, you should check it out. It's so '90's. It's great.). There were lots of life lessons. Lots of boy/girl interaction to learn from. Nothing really explicitly sexual, but just enough so that I understood.
Between my mom and Moesha, I learned a lot about what growing up an African-American woman might be like. And man. Ma and Moesha were on ittttt.
But don't get me wrong. I'm not all about loving her image. I dig her music like WHOA. I recommend going back, back, back to 1994 when she first came out and then listen to alllll of her music from then to now. You won't. Be. Disappointed.
Anyway, Brandy's return makes me so happy. Because tomorrow...I will be buying Human so fast. And bumpin' it so loud.
Just thought I'd share.
- K. Rocka
Between my school schedule and my employment at my bomb job, I hadn’t had time to watch many films. Which is a problem. But now I’ve found a way to incorporate watching films (and sometimes television) into my busy, busy schedule.
It is apparent to me that I am learning a lot in school because I do not enjoy watching movies as much as I use to. Often times I would be thrilled or filled with excitement after watching a good film. I’d be inspired to just go out and shoot something.
That very rarely happens now. It seems that I pay more attention to what is wrong in a film as opposed to just being a viewer and enjoying it. A plus that has come out of this is that whether I view a film as good, great, okay, bad or horrible, I’m a lot more inspired to write something after I see it. As I stated before, I would like to focus on writing for film & TV, so I take this as a good sign.
Anyway, I’ve watched a lot of films/TV (that I hadn’t seen) thus far this summer:
Britney: For the Record (I LOVE BRITNEY. ALWAYS HAVE, ALWAYS WILL. SHUT UP.)
and these:
I liked Talk To Me, but I really hate the ‘n’ word. For me, it was hard to get past it being used in the dialogue so frequently, though I know that it was true to the character and to the culture and times. But that’s a discussion for another time.
Although I didn’t really care for Gia (well, most of it; I feel some parts were successful) or Britney: For the Record, they both made me think. How unhappy/lost does a person have to be to fall to such lows? To damage most, if not all, of one’s personal relationships? To become dependent on a drug? To not be able to control or realize what one has become? Or worse, what if an individual isn’t able to return to who he once was?
I wonder how that feels, but I pray that I never know.
If ever I start to go down that destructive path, kindly refer me to this post.
- K. Rocka
Oh, no, I most certainly am not a fan. This is just a visual aid.
Really, Georgia? Chambliss AGAIN?
I’m not sure if I’ll ever completely understand the opposite sex.
I’m pretty positive that if the day that I do completely understand men ever comes around, communicating with them wouldn’t be fun anymore.
But still. There are some things about male behavior that I just do not and cannot comprehend. Let me list some examples:
1. Using a “bedroom voice” in normal conversation.
Though I keep my pants locked, I have had enough close encounters and have listened to enough girlfriends talk about a man’s bedroom voice to know what one is. I will confess. I can appreciate a deep voice. I can appreciate a man lowering the volume of his voice to talk to me in an intimate situation. Because honestly, I don’t want to hear all that loud talk when I’m trying to kiss somebody. I just don’t need it in my life.
Anyway, said voice is not appropriate in all situations. For example, it is not appropriate in the work place.
I was on my way to the restroom when one of the truck drivers (I work in Dispatch) I met over the summer stepped up and said hi. Pimp walk, head cock, etc. This is how the rest of the conversation went:
Driver: I ain’t seen you in a minute. (inaudible) and I asked the front desk, ‘Yo…(indistinct) go?’
Me: (polite smile)
Driver: Yeah, so, where you been?
Me: Oh, at school. I’m just home for holiday.
Driver: Okay, okay. (muffled) just wanted to…(inaudible).
…this is unacceptable. Speak up.
2. Questioning at the worst times ever.
I stay at the gym for the love of my lacrosse team.
It’s funny that men/boys find it appropriate to ask me questions pretty much only when I’m in mid-workout and am sweating and panting and having an asthma attack.
When I’m on the treadmill: “Dang! You’re goin’ FAST! I’m tryna keep up with my eyes, but I can’t! You do that everyday?”
When I’m lifting: “Why do you always look so mad when you work out? You should smile.”
When I’m doing a timed wall ball circuit: “Hey, who do you play for?” or "What are you doing?"
3. Possessive behavior.
I date around. Nothing really serious. All signs point to me not starting a relationship in college. And most young men I go out with understand and agree. If it goes further, it goes. If not, then it doesn’t. At the most, we usually just become pretty good friends who at some time had an interest in one another.
But as soon as “I’m not really looking for a relationship right now” comes out of my mouth, some dudes agree, but then want to act so crazy.
We may be at a party or a club. Well, I’m not looking for a relationship right now, but his hands sure are gripping my hips to make sure I don’t dance with anybody else.
We may just be texting. Well, I’m not looking for a relationship right now, but he sure is calling me ‘baby’ and ‘my girl’ a lot.
We may just be in the computer lab. Well, I’m not looking for a relationship right now, but he sure is all up in my life and trying to see who I’m talking to on Facebook.
These are just a couple of examples. Believe me, more will come.
I’m sure other women can relate.
- K. Rocka
Sometimes I actually click on the links people put in their Facebook statuses.
So one day I clicked on my girl Amy's link to her blog.
I said to myself, "Self...this is mad cool. I wanna be like Amy. Maybe I should blog. Share my thoughts with the world. With the universe. Make some magic. Let these suckas know what's up."
And so here I am. FRESSSSSSHHHH for '08!
To be honest, I should have started up a blog a looooong time ago. I plan on making my track in school writing and producing for film & television. So wouldn't it make sense for me to practice writing on a daily basis? It would.
But at times I have the attention span of a four-year-old and cannot even sit down long enough to sign up for something as simple as Blogger.
But now I'm here. Finally. So if you don't have the pleasure of hearing my mouth everyday, you can certainly enjoy reading reflections of what's on my mind from time to time.