You Can Find Me in The Club...

....or standing right outside about to get in. But I will get in. I don't club a lot, but when I do, it's gotsta be DOPE. And of course, anything I do is DOPE.

Except tonight.

You see, I pulled up in a million trucks. I was looking, smelling feeling like a million bucks.

Until I remembered I took the bus and never even owned a car. On top of that, I was no where near a million bucks richer than I had been previous to stepping in line. But it was pay day, and I intended to use all the $50 allotted on big spending wisely. And my smell was also not of the million dollar variety but of the Granddaddy OG Purple Kush. DOPE.

So as told, being the baller that I be, you know I got up in the club for free.

It didn't hurt that there wasn't a cover but I know if there was, a nigga still wouldn't have been paying...because a nigga would have went somewhere else.

First step in the club, I throw the shades on because I am some kind of stoned. Stoned like In the Stone from firing up that earth and blowing smoke into the wind on the walk to the club (did I mention I took the bus to the club).


OPERATION COMPLETELY DISTORT VISION was now in progress.

I began to survey my environment, you know checking out the fellas, the highs and lows. But I kept my good eye open for clocking the hoes.

And this is where the night began.

So now I'm at the bar, shake, shaking, taking them off (whatever that means). Tonight I thought I would play the wall and wait for a girl to come talk to me. You know, like girls do. And you'd be surprised that more times than none, it actually works.

Except tonight.

The ladies in the club on this particular evening were something, different if you will.
And by "different", I mean fucking wrecked.

No hate from over here though. We are all God's children (if you believe in that sort of thing) when the lights are off. But the lights weren't off. They were dim. And when the lights are dim, the Devil's slightly slower step child, DECEPTION is slowly afoot.

I go to buy my first of two $15 Long Island Iced Teas of the night and as I prepare to savor every last drop (cent), for the next 20, maybe 25 minutes (including the mostly watery drink it will become when the ice melts) I look over and see a group of females enjoying the hell out of this club.

They were having fun, looking all types of good, like video good. Porn Star good. Janet Jackson circa Poetic Justice good. Until I realized OPERATION COMPLETELY DISTORT VISION was going down. And that was because I was high. **REMOVES SUNGLASSES**

REALITY Bites.

These girls were confident. I must say that.

The first thing I noticed was the hair. One had a weave, the other was natural, another one even had the Rihanna red dye job going on. Upon closer inspection (and about $7.50 into my drink), it was revealed to me that these women were even dressed nicely.


Nice shoes, accessories, all that (because a man notices when a woman takes her time on what she's wearing, or at least we pretend to).

But then, I saw...

In the worst way possible.

I don't know if it was the terrible smiles, the clown make up or how this one girl's lazy eye was working harder than the busy eye. Either way, my high was getting low and it became clear it was time to move on.

Deceived. As Troo would put it, "that whole crew over there a little messed up and they know it. That's why they have the most personality."

Troo.

So I finish another $3 of my drink and about 40% of my sustained high and turn left and what do we see...is that Nicki Minaj? Fat ass, big boobs, crazy hair, light skinned nigga looking sad next to her. The last $4.50 of my drink was telling me this must be Nicki, or at least a close cousin, maybe an impersonator.

Nope. Just some chick with purple, pink and green hair. One thing was for sure, this lady was not her hair.

Nor was she the dress, shoes, earrings, perfume or anything else she might have been wearing that night. I'll never understand why women who are a size 12 would attempt to squeeze that ass (ass ass ass ass ass ass ass...one 'ass' does not suffice for the amount of ass she fit in that dress) into a size 6.

It appeared her little black dress was trying to grow up into the big black dress it was always meant to be.

C'MON WIT YOUR BIG ASS, LEMME SEE SOMETHING...you know, something that doesn't give you 4 back titties.

As I went to buy my second $15 drink, I hear noise break out in the club. A fight, a small skirmish perhaps?

Wrong again, Ricochet. 

It's just that lame nigga having more fun than the amount of fun that is actually in the club. He's having so much fun that no one else can have fun because he is using it all up. This nigga also happened to be that other nigga.

You know, that other nigga at the club who hasn't learned how to properly ask a lady for a dance so he just goes up behind them and tries to start dancing.

Yeah that guy.

And on this particular night as it would happen, his plan was not working.

I didn't care. I finished my second drink, all $15 plus ice, my high was wearing off and I was about ready to leave this club alone. So I made my way for the exit.

The end of a decent night.

...on my way out though, I couldn't help but notice this lame nigga getting rejected by an entire group of girls. One by one, they shot him down. I chuckled to myself
and by "to myself" I mean out loud.

I guess he heard me laugh and he laughed to. Then he tried to hit me with the

"You know what I mean?"

or

"Theeeseeee bitches beeeee tripping doooooooogggg" shrug.

No, nigga. No.

I'm out.