Da Weekend and Da Boys

After a weekend of happy hours, sports bars and partying with the boys who were in town for a special event, I can finally sit back and say one thing…….

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY MONEY??!?!?!?!?!

I was quite happy on Friday with my bank account and crazy disappointed today. Don’t worry, the bills are paid. You won’t catch me buying some shit knowing the mortgage is due. That stuff comes first. But after buying a round or two or three, eating out, parking, gas – motherfuggin’ gas – and spotting the dumb ass that didn’t bring enough cash, I’m depleted. Not completely but more than enough to make me consider increasing the brown bag to lunch shit until the next pay day.

There’s something about being around your peeps though. I don’t get to see them that often and things have changed. Dudes got wives and families, more responsibilities and shit like that and sometimes you gotta escape that stuff. You get caught up in the everyday grind and forget that you’re human and need to breathe. For me, it’s a chance to reset, catch up, get rejuvenated and get ready to attack life head on.

The older you get, the more the conversations change. So you go grab some drinks talk about life and what your kid is doing and investments and then stop in mid-sentence to stare at the bad ass woman that walked past your crew. The ones who aren’t married – well – they go holla at that same bad ass woman. Others will yap with that occasional “I’d hit that” Then the conversation continues – mostly about women. I’m saying it’s hard trying to understand how strange of a species they are. 🙂

Naturally there were some funny ass moments that I won’t go into exact details with but I can’t resist talking about the big girl with the pum pum shorts and 3/4 of her ass hanging out damn near attacking my boy and pulling him on the dance floor. Nothing like seeing stretch marks jiggle.

There was playa playa – the dude at the club with the purple linen suit looking like a broke B.arney on crack.

There was the “dime” who kept shooting dudes down every time they even thought about tryin’ to holla. She just looked bitter the whole damn night. Obviously I’m not a woman but that shit baffles me whenever I see women out with their face so stone cold that it looks like someone stole their left nipple. I always want to go up to them and be like “Why the hell did you come out?!?!?!” Save that sour puss shit for someone else. Take your miserable ass home. Everybody has friends like that.

There was the 5 foot tall white dude with the muscle shirt on at the spot with the 5 foot 11 inch black woman. First thing I thought….yup….he paid for that. Second thing I thought…..I hope he checked the ad.am’s apple. Third thing I thought…..I wonder which one will be screaming that night.

Then of course, since you’re out with your boys, you’re bound to have to play the role. My role of swing man. Distract and entertain. That’s about it.  Here’s the thing about being a swing man. You gotta be able to bullshit because they know you’re playing the role. They know the only reason why you’re talking to them is because her girl and your boy are trying to hook up and it’s my job to keep your ass interested so my boy can get some ass. Period. Occasionally you get that one where you may actually have interest but other than that, you could care less. When the deed is done, you don’t know that person from a fly on the wall. I can’t front, sometimes I enjoy that shit. Other times it’s a damn burden. So on Friday we were outnumbered. There were 4 of us and 5 of them so I decided to play cupid. Let’s just say it was a bad idea….a real bad idea.

~ by alwaysfunkyfresh on June 9, 2008.