This Is How It Went Down

The day of the show:
I was a holy, hot mess. My sitter, who I had asked to arrive at 10 am, finally dragged her sorry ass to the crib at around 2:30 pm. It was all about cp time after that. I spent four and a half hours pacing. My skin staged a full-fledged revolt. I had butterflies out the wazoo. I had an attitude and it wasn't pretty. Nope. Not at all. I don't know why I was so nervous because it was not as if I had to get up on stage, but we worked so hard and I yapped an yapped about the show so I guess I was mentally nuts hoping it went well.

When the sitter finally showed up, I raced off to muMs' to try to re-record my part since we had made some minor changes to the script. Unfortunately for me, by that time it was too late to do anything but stare at each other like idiots and head downtown. We got a quick rehearsal in, set up the stage, everyone involved was late to some degree or another and then the skies opened up and sent forth a torrent of damn near biblical proportions. At this point I was stoic on the outside but inside I was roiling and bubbling and so forth and so on.

Then blessedly, the spot began to fill up. Bowery Poetry Club is not a large venue to fill but I must say that every other time I have been there, you could have heard a pin drop in Greenland for all the people that came. It was nice to see every chair with an ass in it, the bar full and people standing around. Margie's DJ friend was killing the deep house and I've got to get his name so I can go catch him spin somewhere. Showtime came and it went without too many hitches. The sound was good, I was on cue (whew). Margie and muMs did their thing and it was appreciated by the crowd. Put me on cloud nine. Seriously.

After the show Bee, Ree and I stopped by some nameless bar to go see Evil Dee, who wasn't there but I had the pleasure of a hug from Butta L who I've not seen in quite some time. The bar had all of 4 people inside, counting me, so I said my hellos and goodbyes rather rapidly and exited, door right, to tell Bee and Ree that it was not a go. We then went over to Sutra, which was still pretty thin at that point and the executive decision was made that food was in order, so we ran across the street to Boca Chica where we cussed Bush, praised Fidel and I stuffed myself in a most unladylike manner. I think I said "I ate too much" a minimum of 50 times once we left the restaurant. We got back to Sutra and it was jammin. Mary Mack threw on PSK and we all showed our age. Suavemente had me up dancing with Liz and not completing my double turns correctly. Poor Liz. I think I bonked her on the head at least twice. I've got to take merengue lessons. True story. For some reason, my lovely lady lumps drew a crowd during reggae. Margie gave me the 'oh lord' face and when I looked behind me to see what she was motioning towards, there was around 6 guys sitting there pitching trouser tents. Sheesh. And Ick!!

Bee had to leave to meet up with her beau, so we stepped outside together so I could retrieve my bag of tricks from her trunk. Um. Dude, where's my car? Hey y'all, don't park on First Street between First and A ever. All of the signs except the one waaaaaaaaaaaay the fuck at the top of the block, do not have night regulations. That one sign does, and that's the one that bites you in the ass at 2 am. We went back inside to tell everyone the news and got a ride to the towyard from Liz, singing merrily all the way. Funny how one can be merry at that moment, but I guess there was a whole lot of nothing we could do about the situation so why not be semi-joyous.

Car returned, after a $185 fee (ouchie),Bee and I headed uptown after a pit stop at McDonald (I just never learn) and I fell out once I got in.

Chilled with the girl over the next few days and Saturday it was off to the AfroPunk PJ party at Lucky Cat. It was a fun time, complete with a half-nude chick that made me drool somewhat, a pillow fight, bubbles and booze. My only problem with the night was the fact that if you breathed too hard, the record skipped. I didn't stay the whole night and instead took off with Malik, Naima and Siam to a bar down the block where I was introduced to the most rediculous thing in the world, the house remix of Riding Dirty. I now have a bone to pick with Chamillionaire. Word up. We didn't stay in Williesburg long. Ahmed showed up and we hopped the party van over to Max Fish. Nothing doing besides another drink, some more shit talking and then I went home.

Sunday night it was off to R&R to watch Kelsey play with Sick List and Margie throw down. The PunkPrototype party was more of the R&R vibe that I was accustomed to so I thought it would be a hot night. The only thing hot about it was the fact that I proved to myself that I can dance to just about anything, even tripped out bad shit (toot toot goes the Mala horn). The speakers were blaring all too loudly for such a small space and no one had the good sense to turn them the fuck down. Kelsey, kicked ass, of course. Margie's set wasn't that great since the mics blew chunks and she had to get a last minute stand-in for her song White Rabbit and it didn't go well. I love you Ron, but leave the bass alone. Omega Moon got up to spit some shit but looked like her heart wasn't in it. The best time I had was cracking jokes about the horrendous music with Ed and yelling "Titties" with Kelsey. Worse time I had was not having something pointy to stick in my ears to dull the sound of the somewhat awful music. Still and all I supported my folk and that's always a good time. And to those that took exception to my dress: um, fuck you. Thanks. By way of explaination, I wore a tube dress with a side cut-out that left no doubt that I wasn't wearing anything underneath. Some broad walked up to me and said "You know people can see that you aren't wearing panties?" Thanks for the news flash moron. I put the damn dress on. I was the first to know. Sheesh. Respect my sexy. After a quick stop into Lotus, I headed back uptown to sleep off the tinny ringing in my ears. Damned loud sound system.

So, that's pretty much it. I'm letting my hair grow in so I can experiment with a new cut. It's driving me bonkers. If my hair is long enough to brush, it's too damned long. I don't have a whole hell of a lot planned for this week besides getting back to my writing, but my besty is coming home in a day or two, so something interesting is bound to go down.

-& I'm out, chillin like a villan (or some shit like that)
P.S. Yeah man, all jokes aside, I am that bitch!