last night i checked out the roots concert. jean grae and talib kweli were also there._______________________
date: may 22, 2006
time: roughly 6:30 p.m.
place: in my living room
the book was simply too good to put down. sebastian was a spy who had been exiled to a country estate which just so happened to be right next to sabrina's country cottage. sabrina just so happened to be the beautiful mahogany-haired 'daughter' of his closeted gay spy friend who was murdered a couple of months back because he'd tried to blackmail the guy responsible for the murder of sabrina's real father. they were falling in love while someone was trying to kill sabrina. love is wierd that way...
i was 250 pages into the 365 page saga, right at the part where it looked like sebastian and sabrina were about to get it on for the first time and damnit, i was READY for that shit. i mean, it'd taken 250 pages to get to that point! damn, that's like a decade of foreplay. i can only imagine the kind of blueballs sebastian was suffering from cuz he was constantly standing around the girl with his 'staff' making a tent in his breeches. while sebastian was savoring sabrina's nape and rubbing his crotch to keep the cum at bay, i was considering attending the concert but i wasn't yet sure if i'd do so. i squashed all thought of it cuz IT WAS ABOUT TO BE ON! sebastian had begun kissing the back of sabrina's neck and was drowning in the lavender scent of her skin. i immediately wondered if lavender tasted like it smelled.
sidebar: i know cologne is good for seduction and all but i can't stand licking that shit off a brotha's neck. it's just NASTY. 'obsession for men' might smell good to the nose but it is a malicious trick on the mouth. it's like smelling the deliciously sweet scent of a chocolate cake. you all geeked to taste it as you cut into it, mouth all watering cuz the nose done told it the cake's gonna be good. you take a bite of it, the aroma of cocoa seducing your olfactory nerves right before the papillae in your mouth are asphyxiated to death from the layer of cow dung now flung on the tongue. if mouths had hands they'd smack the crap out of the noses for that one.
for real, though...if you gonna wear cologne, put it somewhere i won't lick, like your asshole.
anyway, so sebastian's all caught up in the lavender and i'm caught up in him being caught up, when the sound of my cell phone ringing intrudes upon my literary interlude. i flip it open to see who it is. it's aries man. i debate on whether or not to answer it and decide against it cuz at this point sebastian's got his lips wrapped around one of sabrina's rosy-hued nipples and i'm starting to feel all tingly between my legs. i can't talk to him if i'm horny cuz my voice will give it all away.
thirty minutes and a 'thwarted attempt to ravish sabrina' later, i'm online at ticket-massa to get the number to their customer service department. i figure i'll go to the concert after i finish the book but i gotta get them to re-send the email with the ticket info in it. i find the number and give them a call...and find myself in an abyss of automated responses:
"hello, you've reached ticket-massa, the plantation of ticket purchasing. we strive to serve you a plate of bullshit in the form of unnecessary administrative and handling fees to go with this ridiculously rambling automative system that will hopefully confuse you to the point of making you forget why the fuck you bothered to call us in the first place. press one to continue this brain rape in english."
i press one and am further cerebrally assaulted.
"press one if you are looking to get wallet-fucked over the telephone by purchasing a $27.50 ticket for $47.50 after we add our 'gotta put my toy poodle muffy through etiquette school just so she ends up getting turned out by the neighborhood mongrel pimp' fee of twenty bucks."
i glanced up at the certificate on my wall sent to me from muffy's school as a token of appreciation for my twenty buck contribution. nah, i'd already pressed THAT fucking number before...
"press two if you're already wiping the ky jelly off of the inner silk linings of your wallet and are now trying to find out if you're gonna bust a nut before we fall asleep on you."
aiight, that one was me. i press two and yet again, i'm fucked.
"press one if you feel like putting in not only your credit card number but your social security number, date of birth of your ex-boyfriend's baby's momma and the first three letters of the last sexually transmitted disease you contracted."
too bad i didn't have my credit card on me...
"press two if you want to access your information by entering your ticket order number. please note that after entering the seven digit number you will need to enter in the following phrase using the text on your phone keypad 'i am a fucking idiot for calling ticketmassa.'"
i had the ticket order number right there on the screen so this would have appeared to be the easiest route...
ten minutes and four additional phone calls to ticket-massa later i realized i was ready to say 'fuck da roots.' eventually the automated asshole got fed up with my inability to figure out calculus and it put me through to a live operator.
one minute later i'm checking my email for the ticket that was sent to me after a brief and effective inquiry to the customer service rep.
sidebar: ONE MINUTE. i swear, the only reason why u.s. occupation in af.gh.an.is.tan ain't over is cuz a tal.i.ban representative has been on the phone for five years trying to make his way through the white house's automated phone system trying to get through to the prez.
after the odyssey surrounding the acquirement of my ticket, i was worn out, but not too worn out not to find out if sebastian finally made his way into sabrina's linen drawers. turns out the little hussy didn't WEAR drawers which made it hella easy for him to 'stick his stallion in the stable' so to speak. he does his thing, they fall in love and i look up at the clock on the wall to see it's now a little before 9 p.m. i still gotta get dressed, get some money from the atm, get to my job so i can print the damn ticket, and get to the concert (that started at 8 p.m.)
more to come...
|