an ATLien's saturday night

it was girls night out.

last night i decided against going to the hip hop fest in favor of hanging with my girl candice. we decided to head to our favorite club, vibes, a caribbean spot usually full of fine brothas willing to buy a sista a drink without the expectation of getting pussy later. (in other words, the best kind of drink there is!)

edit: i took out the photo. it was just too poor in quality for me to leave up. sorry.

anyway, we get to vibes and park in the parking lot. i hadn't even been standing for a good three minutes outside of the car before a guy starts trying to get my attention from his car. he yells out a few compliments and pulls off. then candice notices he pulled off only to pull into the parking lot in back of her car.

"hey there, dread! come over here luv, i wanna talk to you!"

what the fuck? that 'sista walking up to a car' shit is for little girls who are just happy a mothafucka showed 'em a little attention. what grown woman does shit like that? i stood there looking at him like he'd just lost his fucking mind. he quickly finished his phone conversation in the car.

"hold on! i'll come to you!"

then he gets out of his car.

oh shit, are you even old enough to DRIVE??

he looked young, but it wasn't his youthful face that had me wondering about his age. it was his lack of height. now let me state up front that i have no problem with dating men of average height, but this guy wasn't of average height. he was a tiny little thing...like a kid trying to play grown up. i'm 5'6 (5'7 to 5'8 in my heels) and i had him by at least three inches. surely he knew how much taller i was than he, but that didn't dissuade him. i sighed as i watched him approach.

it's gonna be one of THOSE nights...

after deflecting his attention with short, uninspired answers to his inquiries, we head into the club.

it's D.E.A.D. there were about thirty folk in the entire spot and most of them were women. the guys there were uh, photogentically challenged. as candice and i sat there, we realized we would probably need to come up with a code for the guys walking through the entrance (we were strategically seated at a table facing the front door). i came up with h.a.m. (hot ass mess). she came up with 'duck' as in 'duck, duck, duck, GOOSE', with duck meaning HELL NAH.

once the code was established i figured we should also come up with some effective techniques for quickly extinguishing any unwanted attention directed our way. candice told me sistas can no longer use the line "i'm a lesbian" cuz guys only see that as a challenge and come on stronger, thinking they've got the 'magic stick' to make a girl switch teams. we had to get creative with the shit...

1. i scratch my crotch, then put my fingers to his nose and say "does this smell yeasty to you?"

2. "i'm here looking for someone to take care of me and my seven children."

3. i pretend to shift something in my chest area before saying "sorry...my fake tiddie is always slipping out of place."

4. "excuse me while i go change my diaper."

5. i pick my nose, pull out a booger, then say to the guy "you know, these don't really taste all that bad..."

6. i squeeze my thighs together before asking the guy "it really burns when i pee. do you have any idea what THAT'S about?"

7. "i gotta get to the bathroom! i feel my dentures loosening!"

8. "i'm just here to find my man. the bastid owes me child support!"

9. "i'm looking to get married in the next couple of months. you interested?"

10. "i like to stick things up a brotha's ass. you down for that?"

candice suggested we go the direct route:

1. "uh, it's not me, it's DEFINITELY you."

2. "before you continue, i'm gonna let you know now you have absolutely no chance of getting my phone number."

3. "i'm sorry...i didn't hear what you were saying because your rancid breath left me momentarily unconscious."

4. "i'm not feeling you."

the fact that we even had time to come up with such an extensive list lets you know just how dead it was up in the cut. we decided to head downtown and come back in an hour.

downtown was a crush of cars (we were on peachtree street...ATLiens know of what i speak). we flirted with guys in cars while we slowly made the crawl from peachtree at tenth street to buckhead. while stuck in stand still traffic, i look over to my right and saw a row of motorcycles. i followed the row of bikes with my eyes until they landed on a tall brotha in a biker suit...staring straight at me. i was startled by the intensity of the look and turned away uncomfortably. then i turn my attention back to him and he's still staring right at me. i quickly perused the brotha, noting how very nice his ass was packed into his pants. he was very attractive, with caramel coated skin and a dusting of facial hair on his face. nice full lips and a wicked smile completed the image and i sat there smiling and admiring the view. he made a motion with his hand which i thought meant "look at my bike". it wasn't until we were headed down the street that i realized he was telling us to pull over. SHIT. yeah, ya girl dropped the ball on that one.

during the car ride we made a few observations:

1. if you are a man walking anywhere within a 25 yard radius of a gay bar, we will assume you're gay. know this, and plan accordingly. educate yourself with the gay bar in your area and make sure to avoid walking in front of them, especially if there are alot of guys outside waiting to get in. sorry, but the whole dl situation got sistas on high alert.

2. if you're a man wearing driving gloves, we will assume you're a car guy more concerned with your car than your girl. unless you're driving on an oval track or road course somewhere, driving gloves are totally unnecessary to us and only make you look like you're the kind of guy who'd rather sit under his car and change the oil filter than fuck your girlfriend.

3. if you're a biker, please do not make the mistake of trying to flick the bird or exhibit general anger at the driver honking behind you cuz ya slow ass got your bike moving at a crawl cuz you wanna show ya shit off. remember...the driver in the big car behind you can do serious damage to your leather-clad ass on that little motorcycle.

4. do not assume your nice ride will guarantee you some quality pussy. grown women know about car notes and their effectiveness in fucking with the finances. if you got the killer ride but it's obvious you're stretching your bank in order to have it (believe me, we sistas notice the money you ain't putting into your appearance to support the image created by your ride), the quality pussy will not be available to you. you will instead be left with the sistas who are still impressed by that shit...the ones who'll call their girlfriends afterwards and be like "guess what! i just rode in a mercedes! a REAL MERCEDES!"

5. there are alot of trannies in atlanta and while many of them look like men in drag, a few of them are looking just as good as the women. SISTAS...GET YA SHIT TOGETHER. if a guy in a dress is looking better than you in a dress, do whatever the fuck you gotta do to fix that shit. it ain't about trying to appeal to gay men, it's about representing for sistas everywhere!

6. club 112 is hot like it used to be back before tupac died. meanwhile, the age group hasn't changed so folk who used to kick it at club 112 back then (namely me and candice) are too old for that spot now.

we got back to vibes and the place was STILL sucking. i got in a few dances and we called it a night, making a mental reminder to NEVER go to vibes on a SATURDAY.

all in all, a good night. hanging with candice is always entertaining. if nothing else, our active imaginations provided us with a few laughs and we got our ego strokes for the night so it was all good.