Sunday, October 24, 2004
Bathroom Monitor
Ok....so I'm at this club in ATL (where the playas dwell) chillin' with my girl and her married manfriend. Triflin' I know.... *pondering.....Hmm....notice I referred to ATL being where the playas dwell and I'm kind of helping out with that stereotype since I'm accompanying my girl and her married manfriend to a club and really don't care that they're doin what they're doin. They're not from here though. Does that make it better? hee hee
Anyway, my girl...let's call her, Coco...wanted to go to the bathroom to do a lipstick check and take a piss. So we're walking through the crowd, you know how it is, "Excuse me. Excuse me. Damn! I know this bitch see me trying to get through!! Hey baby....what's your name? Damn...you sho is wearin those pants! Oooh...you got some pretty eyes...blah, blah, blah. Finally! Coco and I make it to the bathroom. Only to be greeted by this little bitty Asian woman at the bathroom counter. Now...I don't know how it is other places, but damn. Why does every club in Atlanta have to have a bathroom monitor? I mean, I got to tip a bitch to damn open the bathroom stall door (cuz that's what she really did ya'll when she saw CoCo going towards the door). Ok...So I'm taking a piss. Just about to reach for the toilet paper to wipe myself and this bitch is standing over the stall with some toilet paper and an extended stick to flush the toilet with. I'm like, "Oh...hell naw!" Ok...so I'm kidding about that. But foreal. I walk out the bathroom stall and I gotta tip her for turning on the damn water faucet and checkin the temperature. I gotta tip her for turning off the water. I gotta tip her for damn handing me a paper towel to dry my hands off with. I mean damn! Talk about going broke at the club! But wait a minute. This is like a One Stop Shop ya'll. She has all the mints, gum, blowpops, laffy taffy, black n' milds, etc. that you need. Summers eve coochie wipes, condoms, tampons, pads....(ooh you know I need one of those. see previous entry). "Excuse me...how much is this? hee hee
**sidenote: Ladies...please take advantage of the coochie wipes. Especially if you know you're gonna hook up with a guy for some hot bucket naked sex after a night of hot sweaty dance routines incorporated with droppin it like it's hotter than a mug all night on the dance floor. don't act like your coochie is all fresh as berries even after all that. take advantage of what's being presented to you ladies. wipe the sweatie coochie upon leaving the club. thank you!**
Ok... This chic even has friggin Nag Champa incense. WTF?!? At a damn club? Picture me dancin in the club, holding a damn incense stick....all while chanting like I'm a Buddhist Priest. Whateva! Back to reality. Ok...so after shopping around the bathroom and making my purchase of incense and pads, we head for the door. Coco goes to throw her .50cent papertowel away only to miss the trashcan. All of a sudden, I hear the Mission Impossible theme music, lights dim and the bathroom monitor comes out of nowhere with these kitchen tongs, dashes to the floor and picks up the paper towel. Mission Accomplished....(fade the music, fade to black....and cut!) Oh my bad! I've somehow reverted back to my Video Production days. Ok...where was I? Oh yeah...she really did come out of no where with those tongs and grab the paper. All that other stuff was going on in my mind. hee hee Oh wait a minute. I know that ain't no damn ATM in the bathroom! Oh hell naw! How the heck did I miss that shit?!? (shaking my head....)
Ok...so we exit the door. (Whew! I'm wiping my head....what a bathroom experience! I thought I'd never make it out there.) Coco and I are making our way through the crowd to her married manfriend. Ofcourse, we have to go through the "excuse me bitches and hey babies" all over again. Before making it to our final destination, this one cat (short guy) grabs my arm and yelling over club music says, "Hey cutie...what's your name? Me: inaudible. short guy: I'ma come find you when I wanna dance. Me: Ok. (thinking....whateva!) We finally make it to the other side of the dance floor. This has got to be the largest dance floor I've seen in a club in a while. Anyway, I'm over there chillin....bobbin my head to the beat like a damn bobble head football figurine. They must have played my jam! Snoop & Pharrell..."Drop it like it's hot!" Just as I start droppin it like it's hot, who but comes up and is ready to dance. The short guy. After a quick ponder... I went ahead and danced with him. After all, this is my jam. Plus, it was too late to stop dancing and be like, I don't wanna dance. He already saw me droppin' it like it was hot. I'm enjoying the music more than him. Plus...bruh can't even handle me cuz I'm droppin it like it's hotter than a mug! Anyway, they changed dj's. It was like an old school night at the club.
Anyway, this dj seguewayed into playing all the Old school jams! Let me tell you, I stayed on that floor for about an hour straight..... I mean, if we were at a house party, I would have toe somebody's rug up! You hear me? I don't know where I got all that energy. I think most of the folks in there that were really feeling it were born circa 1969 - 1975. Yeah...it was cool. I even started enjoying dancing with short guy. I'm not even going to list all the songs the DJ played. Well...really, I couldn't even if I wanted to. But....just to give you an idea. He played a mix of all the New Edition songs going waaaay back to Popcorn Love and Candy Girl. I thought I was going to explode! Dudes were doing the New Edition routines in the club. It was nostalgic....and pure comedy at the same time. I had a good time, needless to say. Anyway, my damn feet were killing me! Plus, I was sweatin like somebody dumped some damn water on me. I'm sure I lost about 10 lbs of water weight. Before leaving the dance floor and escaping dude before asking for my number....he asked me for my damn number. (ok...quick ponder...should i? shouldn't i? ahh hell. give him your cell #) Ok, so we exchanged numbers and I went on 'bout my business.
I was actually ret ta go so I tried to find Coco. I found her married manfriend first. He said she went to the bathroom. (Ahh hell.... I ain't goin back there) I told him to tell her that I was finna go. Shii...I was tired as hell. I can't kick it like I used to. Luckily, I drove myself. I learned to meet friends at the club instead of riding together. Most of the time, somebody is usually ready to go before the other. And since these days, that person is usually me, I drive. Plus, I don't feel like standing at the bar with a damn attitude while my friend gallivants all over the club. I'm not quite the social butterfly that I used to be. Those were years 18 - 26. I'm 30 now. Anyway, I'm heading for the door....and who but the short guy is at the door. He said, "Hey miss lady, I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed dancing with you tonight." Me: Oh ok. I enjoyed it as well. Take care! Flashed my dazzling smile and headed out the door.
I got home, took a shower and jumped my ass in the bed. I'm drifting off to sleep when.....my damn cell phone rings. Damn! I knew I should have turned my ringer off. Anyway, I didn't answer the muhfucka cuz it's like 2:30am. Whoever it is, should have known better than to call me at that time. Anyway, I hear the voicemail chime. Being the nosey person that I am. I gets up out of bed to check my voicemail. It's the short guy. He's telling me again...on my voicemail....how much he enjoyed dancing with me and blah, blah, blah. I'm thinking to myself, "oh ok...cool. He enjoyed himself. I did to. Going to sleep now.... " Why does my cell phone ring yet again....at 4 something in the damn morning. Oh....I'm good and pissed. I gets up out of my bed (yes i said gets up) I looked at the phone. Same damn number. Oh. hell. naw. This mug has GOTSTA be out of his friggin mind callin me at 4 something in the damn morning. Needless to say, I didn't answer the phone. This time, I turned my damn ringer off. I finally fell back asleep. Pissed, nonetheless. Ok....it's damn near 11:30am now. Why has that mug called me two more additional times?!? WTF?!? Damn....why did I give this dude my number?!? I should have known better. I didn't want to give him my number in the first place. But....I'm always trying to be nice. I do that a lot. I'll give mugs my number...knowing that I don't have ANY intention of talking to them...EVER. Only to let them continue to call me time after time...leaving message after message....only to never receive a return phone call from me and then finally stop calling. Why do we do that? I mean, really. What since does it make? I mean, I could have just lied and said, "I gotta man." Right? Any suggestions?
I think some of you could learn a little bit from this entry. If nothing else, store it in your mental roladex. One, never go to a club in Atlanta without money. You may not be able to wipe your ass. Two, don't give your number out if you really don't want to. You may endure calls at all times of the day and night from somebody you don't want to talk to. And three....this is for the ladies, even though you take a shower prior to going to club, go 'head....grab those coochie wipes and wipe away the sweat before meeting up with your "hot date." you never know.... This has been a public service announcement brought to you by Brown Shuga Enterprises!!!
Anyway, my girl...let's call her, Coco...wanted to go to the bathroom to do a lipstick check and take a piss. So we're walking through the crowd, you know how it is, "Excuse me. Excuse me. Damn! I know this bitch see me trying to get through!! Hey baby....what's your name? Damn...you sho is wearin those pants! Oooh...you got some pretty eyes...blah, blah, blah. Finally! Coco and I make it to the bathroom. Only to be greeted by this little bitty Asian woman at the bathroom counter. Now...I don't know how it is other places, but damn. Why does every club in Atlanta have to have a bathroom monitor? I mean, I got to tip a bitch to damn open the bathroom stall door (cuz that's what she really did ya'll when she saw CoCo going towards the door). Ok...So I'm taking a piss. Just about to reach for the toilet paper to wipe myself and this bitch is standing over the stall with some toilet paper and an extended stick to flush the toilet with. I'm like, "Oh...hell naw!" Ok...so I'm kidding about that. But foreal. I walk out the bathroom stall and I gotta tip her for turning on the damn water faucet and checkin the temperature. I gotta tip her for turning off the water. I gotta tip her for damn handing me a paper towel to dry my hands off with. I mean damn! Talk about going broke at the club! But wait a minute. This is like a One Stop Shop ya'll. She has all the mints, gum, blowpops, laffy taffy, black n' milds, etc. that you need. Summers eve coochie wipes, condoms, tampons, pads....(ooh you know I need one of those. see previous entry). "Excuse me...how much is this? hee hee
**sidenote: Ladies...please take advantage of the coochie wipes. Especially if you know you're gonna hook up with a guy for some hot bucket naked sex after a night of hot sweaty dance routines incorporated with droppin it like it's hotter than a mug all night on the dance floor. don't act like your coochie is all fresh as berries even after all that. take advantage of what's being presented to you ladies. wipe the sweatie coochie upon leaving the club. thank you!**
Ok... This chic even has friggin Nag Champa incense. WTF?!? At a damn club? Picture me dancin in the club, holding a damn incense stick....all while chanting like I'm a Buddhist Priest. Whateva! Back to reality. Ok...so after shopping around the bathroom and making my purchase of incense and pads, we head for the door. Coco goes to throw her .50cent papertowel away only to miss the trashcan. All of a sudden, I hear the Mission Impossible theme music, lights dim and the bathroom monitor comes out of nowhere with these kitchen tongs, dashes to the floor and picks up the paper towel. Mission Accomplished....(fade the music, fade to black....and cut!) Oh my bad! I've somehow reverted back to my Video Production days. Ok...where was I? Oh yeah...she really did come out of no where with those tongs and grab the paper. All that other stuff was going on in my mind. hee hee Oh wait a minute. I know that ain't no damn ATM in the bathroom! Oh hell naw! How the heck did I miss that shit?!? (shaking my head....)
Ok...so we exit the door. (Whew! I'm wiping my head....what a bathroom experience! I thought I'd never make it out there.) Coco and I are making our way through the crowd to her married manfriend. Ofcourse, we have to go through the "excuse me bitches and hey babies" all over again. Before making it to our final destination, this one cat (short guy) grabs my arm and yelling over club music says, "Hey cutie...what's your name? Me: inaudible. short guy: I'ma come find you when I wanna dance. Me: Ok. (thinking....whateva!) We finally make it to the other side of the dance floor. This has got to be the largest dance floor I've seen in a club in a while. Anyway, I'm over there chillin....bobbin my head to the beat like a damn bobble head football figurine. They must have played my jam! Snoop & Pharrell..."Drop it like it's hot!" Just as I start droppin it like it's hot, who but comes up and is ready to dance. The short guy. After a quick ponder... I went ahead and danced with him. After all, this is my jam. Plus, it was too late to stop dancing and be like, I don't wanna dance. He already saw me droppin' it like it was hot. I'm enjoying the music more than him. Plus...bruh can't even handle me cuz I'm droppin it like it's hotter than a mug! Anyway, they changed dj's. It was like an old school night at the club.
Anyway, this dj seguewayed into playing all the Old school jams! Let me tell you, I stayed on that floor for about an hour straight..... I mean, if we were at a house party, I would have toe somebody's rug up! You hear me? I don't know where I got all that energy. I think most of the folks in there that were really feeling it were born circa 1969 - 1975. Yeah...it was cool. I even started enjoying dancing with short guy. I'm not even going to list all the songs the DJ played. Well...really, I couldn't even if I wanted to. But....just to give you an idea. He played a mix of all the New Edition songs going waaaay back to Popcorn Love and Candy Girl. I thought I was going to explode! Dudes were doing the New Edition routines in the club. It was nostalgic....and pure comedy at the same time. I had a good time, needless to say. Anyway, my damn feet were killing me! Plus, I was sweatin like somebody dumped some damn water on me. I'm sure I lost about 10 lbs of water weight. Before leaving the dance floor and escaping dude before asking for my number....he asked me for my damn number. (ok...quick ponder...should i? shouldn't i? ahh hell. give him your cell #) Ok, so we exchanged numbers and I went on 'bout my business.
I was actually ret ta go so I tried to find Coco. I found her married manfriend first. He said she went to the bathroom. (Ahh hell.... I ain't goin back there) I told him to tell her that I was finna go. Shii...I was tired as hell. I can't kick it like I used to. Luckily, I drove myself. I learned to meet friends at the club instead of riding together. Most of the time, somebody is usually ready to go before the other. And since these days, that person is usually me, I drive. Plus, I don't feel like standing at the bar with a damn attitude while my friend gallivants all over the club. I'm not quite the social butterfly that I used to be. Those were years 18 - 26. I'm 30 now. Anyway, I'm heading for the door....and who but the short guy is at the door. He said, "Hey miss lady, I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed dancing with you tonight." Me: Oh ok. I enjoyed it as well. Take care! Flashed my dazzling smile and headed out the door.
I got home, took a shower and jumped my ass in the bed. I'm drifting off to sleep when.....my damn cell phone rings. Damn! I knew I should have turned my ringer off. Anyway, I didn't answer the muhfucka cuz it's like 2:30am. Whoever it is, should have known better than to call me at that time. Anyway, I hear the voicemail chime. Being the nosey person that I am. I gets up out of bed to check my voicemail. It's the short guy. He's telling me again...on my voicemail....how much he enjoyed dancing with me and blah, blah, blah. I'm thinking to myself, "oh ok...cool. He enjoyed himself. I did to. Going to sleep now.... " Why does my cell phone ring yet again....at 4 something in the damn morning. Oh....I'm good and pissed. I gets up out of my bed (yes i said gets up) I looked at the phone. Same damn number. Oh. hell. naw. This mug has GOTSTA be out of his friggin mind callin me at 4 something in the damn morning. Needless to say, I didn't answer the phone. This time, I turned my damn ringer off. I finally fell back asleep. Pissed, nonetheless. Ok....it's damn near 11:30am now. Why has that mug called me two more additional times?!? WTF?!? Damn....why did I give this dude my number?!? I should have known better. I didn't want to give him my number in the first place. But....I'm always trying to be nice. I do that a lot. I'll give mugs my number...knowing that I don't have ANY intention of talking to them...EVER. Only to let them continue to call me time after time...leaving message after message....only to never receive a return phone call from me and then finally stop calling. Why do we do that? I mean, really. What since does it make? I mean, I could have just lied and said, "I gotta man." Right? Any suggestions?
I think some of you could learn a little bit from this entry. If nothing else, store it in your mental roladex. One, never go to a club in Atlanta without money. You may not be able to wipe your ass. Two, don't give your number out if you really don't want to. You may endure calls at all times of the day and night from somebody you don't want to talk to. And three....this is for the ladies, even though you take a shower prior to going to club, go 'head....grab those coochie wipes and wipe away the sweat before meeting up with your "hot date." you never know.... This has been a public service announcement brought to you by Brown Shuga Enterprises!!!
Comments:
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You know they have the toilette lady in DC. And as for you dropping it like it's hot, I was immediately reminded of you going to physical therapy during the day for your ankle, but dropping it like it was hot, showin' em whatchu were working with AND shaking it fast later that night at GG's wedding!!!
You know it's bad when even Copelands on Piedmont has a bathroom lady. I use to talk to the one at Whiskey Peach and she was telling me that she was retired, so this was how she made pocket change. I always try to tip them because I'm like if you're retired and this is what you do...lawdhabmercy.
Damn I must be goin to the bootleg clubs.. LOL. I never have a toilet lady :(. Or maybe Im too drunk to notice her *lol*.
Yeah I hate when I give a dude my number at the club and he calls me 238263 times before I wake up again the next day. Such a turn off and grounds to get ignored for life.
Amen on the coochie wipes!
~Grayse
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Yeah I hate when I give a dude my number at the club and he calls me 238263 times before I wake up again the next day. Such a turn off and grounds to get ignored for life.
Amen on the coochie wipes!
~Grayse
# posted by 
: Mon Oct 25, 10:09:00 PM
: Mon Oct 25, 10:09:00 PM << Home
