I’d like to congratulate my homegirl O.N.E. on graduating from Law School. My homie is officially a LAWYER! Get it girllll!!! *does praise dance* I’m super uber proud of you, chick and this is only the beginning. I must address you by as “Attorney McEsquireFace” now. And this concludes any and all positivity in this post.
I, Luvvie, hereby renege my Black Card, effective immediately. I’m getting it FedExed to the American Negro Council tomorrow, and will be tracking it to make sure it gets delivered. I even made sure to get it notarized and signed it in front of a witness so they know I’m serious. iCan’t claim, endorse or approve of the acts and the coonery of my (former) people this past weekend. Why my harsh words? Well, get your morning coffee (or French Vanilla hot chocolate), sit down and let me tell you a story.
Picture it, Champaign, 2009 in the year of our Lord… I went to my Alma Mater, University of Illinois, to attend graduation ceremonies of my cronies. In celebration of these awesome achievements, I decided to partake in the clubbing festivities that were going on (I know, I know. I already said I won’t from the last Undergrad Den of Iniquity but…). Friday was uneventful (apart from the incident after the club when we were in the parking lot waiting for a friend).
All of a sudden, this older Black guy (in his 40s. And no, I don’t have the time to discuss how bogus it is that he was at a club with 20-somethings. Another entry for another day) runs up on O.N.E. and gives her a huge hug with a super grip and a kiss on the cheek. She looks horrified.
Me: “Do you know him?”
O.N.E.: “Hell naw!!!”
The guy lets go and comes towards me and goes “Let me get some sugar.”
Me: *side-eye of death* “No, I’m good”
Him: *keeps approaching me*
Me: *sticks out arm far and stops him with a stiff muff in the chest with my palm* “Nope. Chill out”
Him: “Damn girl. I just want some love”
And I want a big STUPID booty that has it’s own zipcode and gets taxed by the IRS but we don’t always get what we want. Then, his friend, who looked like Ray Charles cousin (of comparable age too. EEKKK) pointed to me and goes “I want HER!”
Me: “The hell you do! The devil IS a LAH!” *looks at everyone* “It is time for us to go!”
O.N.E.: “I need to go scrub my face. UGH!”
Womp their lives. Saturday, on the other hand, was a day that will forever live in infamy. Started off positive with O.N.E.’s graduation and then my namesake and IG mini’s (A.A.A.) graduation.
After all the graduations were over, while chilling at O.N.E.’s apartment, it was decided that we’d go to the same spot as the night before because the official graduation party was happening there. Plus, we knew the person throwing the party. We pull up to the club and see a huge line and I’m hesitant because I don’t do lines. I just do not. Peer pressure won and we walk up. It was 7 of us: 5 girls and 2 guys. We ended up bobbing and weaving through the line until we got to the top of the stairs (and front of the line).
Psht! We were not going to wait in that long line when the party promoter was our guy. As we were weaving through the line, one of the guys that we were with ended up pushing another dude out the way. When that guy protested, dude we were with (we shall call him C) turned around and said “Shut up! You’re only an ***********” (enter Black Frat name here). Well that dude gets mad (and rightly so because it was very disrespectful) and wants to fight. Yes, it was C’s fault, so we tell him to “shut up and be quiet. Don’t start sh*t!” People already had attitudes and some were drunk.
Add that to the fact that it was 45 degrees outside and folks were freezing, people were mad ornery. But then again, rocking nothing but tiny dresses and strappy heels with no jacket on a cold night in the Midwest? Dumb. My crew had on blazers and casual flats. Clearly, we weren’t there to impress anyone but we STILL looked cute. Anywho, folks got impatient and started pushing, trying to bum rush the door. I had to shake my head and say “F My Life. I don’t miss this or Undergrad.”
Alcohol + crowds + Undergrads = Recipe for sh*t starting.
The crowd at the door was getting more irate by the minute and when the door finally opened, our group was let in. Already, I was mad irritated. I’d been pushed, feet were stepped on countless times and the entire atmosphere had me in a pissy mood. I walked in the club, thinking the reason no one had been allowed in was because it was packed. Nope. It was only about 1/3 full. This pissed me off even more. I went to the dance floor and walked back out immejately. The place was steaming hot, and reeked of sweat, fading deodorant, overactive hormones and mismatched pheromones. iCan’t. So I went and sat by the lounge area.
The door to the club was closed for another long stretch of time because multiple fights broke out in line outside. Some folks almost got pushed off the stairs the line formed on. Then there was the chick in the too-small dress who spent 30 minutes cursing out the security guard. She was just out there going OFF! Methinks she was mad that she looked like a can of coke in her dress. *shrugs shoulder*
I was sooo outdone at this point. I sat on the couch and lamented my life and my decision to partake in undergrad festivities. At least the Den of Iniquity was peaceful. Uncouth, but peaceful nonetheless. The line outside was still ridiculous and the tempers were mounting by the minute. Other fights had broken out and they were threatening to shut down the party because of the outside foolishness.
It was 1am before the line finally subsided and everyone was let in. At that point, the non-undergrads (grown folks) had congregated at the lounge area and we caught up on life, roasted the busted women who were desperate, and just made a good time out of the nonsense that was going on.
There was one woman who was there, who I assume had scoliosis because of the deep curvature of her spine. That was ok, but she didn’t wear something that could flatter her. She chose to rock a strapless cheetah print dress that was sliding down because of her hump. Epic wardrobe fail. Her friends should have told her. And please realize I’m not making fun of her condition. I’m just saying it was poor wardrobe choice.
Then were the countless thirsty females who were rocking their tiny dresses and daisy dukes, although it was 45 degrees outside. Oh and we musn’t forget that guy that was so drunk that 2 people had to hold him up because he couldn’t stand. Last, but not least, was the ditsy chick who was so drunk that she was falling all over herself and conveniently, unto other guys, as her dress rose further up and up. I looked around that I may have to send the Future Mini Luvvie to military school. She best not be up to these antics when she’s in college. Shoot. I’m giving the glint in my eye a Side-Eye AS WE SPEAK!
All of this kept us busy as we roasted people to ashes. Around 2am (when all Champaign bars and clubs closed), all the lights come on and people start exiting. We stay behind to avoid the traffic and chill. The crowd thins and we decided to start leaving. We get to the door and people are still loitering in front of us at the bottom of the stairs.
Just as I exhaled because I thought the foolery of the night had ended, I was slapped into realization of “Don’t count your chickens before…” you know the rest
What happened next led to one of my guys being led to a squad car, me cussing out a belligerent female who wanted to fight me and people being maced in the face POINT BLANK…
Tune in tomorrow for part 2 of “Why Luvvie must now claim herself raceless since she has denounced her people” . This is already a TOME for the ages…