Category Archives: STORYTIME

Today’s Word is… TALE

My life is a comedy of errors sometimes. Every now and again, I find myself in situations and I can only laugh because of course it would happen to me.  Gather round boys and girls, its story time.

*cues Story to Tell instrumental*

So I’m at a happy hour with some folks, I meet…let’s call her Nancy.  Nancy and I hit it off, she was an engineer of sorts did something I wasn’t smart or sober enough to comprehend.  She talked abut how she loved to travel but that’s what every woman says.  Her and her homegirl are about to take off, she’s like okay so what’s your instagram?  *record scratch* Like I remember I saw that in an episode of Atlanta but I didn’t know this happened in real life.  So in my head I’m like issa curve.  The next day she DMs me like I forgot to give you my number.  Curve reversed. Iight bet. So anyway, I don’t really use it because I’m me. (and I got a man crate so I think I’m seeing someone but that’s another story for another time). Anyway, Nancy would hit me up randomly,  we have casual conversation.  Then one day, she’s like hey I’m doing an event in your area would you like to come?  I’m like sure why not.

She sends me the address, it’s the dance studio down the street.  I go and she’s really happy to see me, a little weird because we barely speak outside of quick convos but hey.  She introduces me to a bunch of people, and because it’s a studio there’s music going everyone is just dancing amongst themselves, it’s like a scene in Step Up.  So then the music stops, and everyone heads downstairs, there’s a bunch of chairs around a projector. I’m like okay her event, I figure it’s some sort of community service project of sorts.  There’s plenty of chairs she comes and sits on my lap.  Again, kinda weird but I just roll with it.  Then, this dude I met earlier gets up to speak….

…it’s a Pyramid Scheme.

So, I’m trapped.  I sit through the presentation. I hear all the red flags and I can’t help but judge her. (Again, she’s an engineer).  So at the end she pulls out her phone like so I think we should do it. (She was clearly in one of the photos).  I’m like…uh…I’m not quite sure.   Some other sucker signed up as a platinum member at that, everyone gets up to hug him and welcome him to the family.  This is beyond a pyramid scheme this feels a little culty.  I get up and ready to slide out, Nancy is like if we do it together we get half off or something, I’ve done sales I know game when I see game. I excuse myself to go the bathroom…she follows me upstairs.  Posts up by the door.  If there was a window I might’ve considered going for it.  So because I don’t do awkward well, I’m like I need to sleep on it.  She’s like well, I can sign you up and you pay me back.  She really didnt wanna be saved but I did. Told her I actually needed to sleep on it.  I get a text from a  random number, like “welcome to the family”.  She didn’t. She couldn’t.  “I hope you don’t mind but some people wanted your number.” She did.

So then we leave I walk her to her car, she gives me some literature and leans for a kiss goodnight.  I give her cheek and I never wanted to get home more.  The remainder of the night I would wonder if I was the mark or if she really liked me as I was flooded with texts from members of the travel cult.  I don’t know if she lied to her “family” or actually signed me up to save face and well, I tried to save her from herself.  They seemed like cool people outside of the whole cult thing, but I’ll just stick to the savings and fare glitches I’m used to. Nancy has hit me up since, I haven’t had much to say.  I guess travel cult pyramid scheme is a dealbreaker.  And so concludes my tale of how I almost maybe might could be in a cult. Or may possibly end up on People’s Court.  Hopefully, Judge Judy…she’d definitely take my side. Because this is just how my life is sometimes.  Escaping through the window would’ve been a funnier ending tho.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… LOCHTE

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And now for Sports. Sorta.  So Ryan Lochte, or the dude who isn’t Michael Phelps, has been the story of the Olympics.  No, not for winning Gold medals or for black girl magic (which would be odd since he is a white man) but rather for taking the Bronze medal in lying.  Apparently, him and his colleagues were out somewhere they wasn’t supposed to or doing something they wasn’t supposed to…he lost his wallet…and rather than come clean, he went with the timeless classic; blame a brown dude.  He spun a tale about being robbed at gunpoint, standing up to the robber (because you can’t be a bitch in your own story) and then the robber so graciously left him with credentials, his phone, and his clothes…because Lochte hasn’t read the news and has no idea how desperate a robber in Rio would be.  Of course the jig was rising fast and it didn’t take long for anyone with a brain to know he got damn lie.  Oh well, 2 of his partners been detained,  another is in hiding and Lochte is back in the States like “new phone, who this”.  America doesn’t seem to be upset with him, not like he’s Gabby Douglas and not smiling or anything.  Good to be white.  Anyway, why am I talking about this? I don’t do a lot of news stories and I kinda sorta lowkey hate the Olympics.  Basically because it brought me back to a time where I let the lie get too real and frankly I have no better excuse to tell this story…

Once upon a time not long ago…I was doing the ghetto married thing. My ex wasn’t working at the time, I worked 2 jobs.  I was in love then, so I didn’t complain much but there were times when I needed a break. We had hooky dates, I would have an off day at one job, call out at the other and me and her would have the entire day to ourselves.  The city has a special charm at like 11am on a Wednesday and no one is really around.  But what about when I needed to call out of my “3rd job”, she lived there, she was unavoidable.   I decided to play hooky from her as well, I got up like I was going to both jobs, she got up and hung out with friends, I returned home to chill.   Nothing nefarious, just peace.   So one day, I called out and didn’t tell her, I was home chilling when she text me that she wanted us to have lunch.  “Uh…..sure babe. Sounds great”.

I’m like okay so let me get up get dressed and have her meet me at a restaurant nearby.  Bet.  So now I get dressed, I head over to the only restaurant nearby this sports bar called Champions.  The service is usually so slow employees don’t waste their break going there, they grab to go orders.  The supervisors usually like to treat the new employees/recent lay offs to lunch there but I guess I’ll take a chance.   The train was underground, I get back above ground and I see missed calls and texts.  She outside the job waiting.  Now, I can either tell her to head over to Champions or make it over to the side entrance and walk out….this was supposed to be a relaxing day.  I just run over to the other entrance and start walking around playing it off.

God doesn’t like ugly so I run into a coworker.  I don’t even have any lies left I just keep it 100.  He would keep it 50, because by the end of the workday everyone heard about how I got dropped off by one girl and picked up by another.  #Inwards, man.  So anyway, I walk over to the car, we grab lunch and she drops me back off.  “Oh you working both jobs today right?”  Now, I already had a close call, probably should stop Lochteing.  But young and dumb, so I tell her I’ll be off at 10.  “Would you need a ride”. “Nah”.  She says she’s going home.  I just stranded myself. For at least 8 hours.  From my own damn house.  All I wanted was a day off from her. So I go to the gym, chill for a bit, eventually I just head home at 7 with a tailored lie about cut hours.  Which wasn’t even necessary. She wasn’t even home.  Doesn’t even look like she been home.  And she never took anything out to thaw.  That was my life.

All that trouble, from a very simple lie.  The remainder of my time at the job I was looked at like a Gawd, I probably could’ve clarified…but fuck it, Lochte!  Lochte told one white lie to his mother and it sparked an international news story.  Because apparently a 32 year old man still feels compelled to lie to his mom and seems to be completely oblivious to the fact that an American Olympian being robbed at gunpoint in a foreign country just might maybe could get a headline or two.  Moral of the story…don’t Lochte.  (and gtbw).

-Stan-

 

 

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Today’s Word is… SOLO

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Storytime.

So this was a little while ago, back I was on my way to the city to link up with some friends at Day party-like function, I’m like right the hell there…. Plans fall through.  At this point, I’m like fuggit and I’m about to go grab something to eat and play cell phone roulette and see who else is around.  I’m on my way to grab food I see a dude I went to school with, he has two women with him, we chop it up quickly he asks what I’m about to get into….now I should’ve said I’m about to just grab something to eat and head home, what I end up saying is I’m about to get up with some friends at Remy’s

One of the girls says, oh that’s where we was going

The two girls exchange looks, I feel like they are telepathically discussing me:

“he’s kinda cute”
“eh, i guess if that’s what you like” “looks like he can afford a mimosa” “true true”

Other girl says, so we all going to the same place why we standing here.  Welp, guess I’m going to this party to meet with these people I know aren’t coming. We get there and I separate from the pack, cuz introvert, and I meet another girl, fellow wallflower.  We talk for a second and another guy joins the conversation, he’s basically trying to dirty mack.  A couple of his boys join our little corner, we all talk about the wack ass food. They say they’re going to eat elsewhere, they invite her, she asks me and her homegirl to tag along.  Once again, I’m headed out with a bunch of strangers.

And it was the probably one of the better days I had.

Now heading out solo isn’t something I do often, or at all really.  When I am out and about alone I’m usually shopping or eating because those things seem perfectly normal to do. Otherwise, you look weird. I was at the movies the other day and in the row in front of me was a dude, alone, eating popcorn and enjoying Magneto drop a baseball stadium around the White House, I salute him, but I couldn’t do it. So there I was with someone who ain’t even like comics but beats being solo.  Going back to that odd night, after the ladies left, I rolled with the fellas to the club, now I just met these dudes so I saunter off to do my own thing, something I do with my actual friends.  I came for the ladies and the drinks (c) Trey Yodelz.  Yet if I walk in alone I look weird.  Society confuses me.  I love lamp.

Flying solo is just one of those things that most will admit is ballsy but will never do themselves.  I guess I’m in that camp as well, I ended up #thatguy by circumstance and even so I always at least had the appearance of friends I would’ve been right back at home alone talking to myself in front of thousands of strangers on the internet; like a normal person.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… STORYTIME

Now usually I start off with a little rant/anecdote, tell a story, make a few points, wrap it up in a neat little bow. Here, I got nothing.  This just some sh t that happened over the weekend I thought was worth sharing. Whatever.

So last Friday night, yeah we danced on tabletops, yeah we took too many shots, I think we kissed but I forgot….okay none of that happened, what did happened was I met up with some friends, romans and countrymen at this lounge. We happened to go on the same day there was a meet and greet for colored girls who considered changing because 16 black cocktail dresses wasn’t enuf. Then there was the white guys who like jazz and poetry so they wear fedoras inside with stubble beards, the couples who thought they was about to have a quiet night out but was solely mistaken, the old cat daddies in they finest suits that were likely older than me, the usual blerds who just want to foursquare somewhere that isn’t in a 3 mile radius and us. Point is, we probably broke about 3-4 fire codes.

Anyway tho, there was a manager dude (more on him later), who was clearly annoyed by the excessive amounts bougie melanin in the lounge restored some order to the proceedings, 8 ninjas to a table.  We were a party of six so we sat with some girl I was chatting up whose name I can’t remember, and this other guy who was chatting up “coworker”.  Ol boy was swinging for the fences and missing horribly, between him and the fake deep spoken word poetry, the struggle to contain laughter was too real.  So anyway, we’re eating and drinking….yada yada yada the bill comes, including an entertainment charge for some lady who followed the poets and did a bunch of Neo soul covers and a 18% gratuity for parties of 8+ and we couldn’t get separate checks (I saw what he did there). Being a table full of accountants we divided it up and it came out to about $60 a person (plus friendly stranger was like i got this sour amaretto on your tab and u.o.e.n.o.). So everyone is ready to pay and ol boy has like 25 dollars to his name.  He tried to unclaim 2 shots he clearly took but still even his tip and entertainment charge he was still screwed.  So now the original plan was everyone give me cash I throw it on my card but we we’re now about $35 short and I was not about to feed this man.  We call the waiter back, insist on separate checks.  He cannot, he goes and gets manager guy.

Now for a manager of a lounge filled to capacity, he was way too angry.  Now for a guy with a stomach filled with alcohol, I was maybe to impatient.  Whatever.   A colleague offered to pay but I wouldn’t have it.  It was the principality, I demanded separate checks. (Again I had about 3 drinks and 2 shots). He had a very condescending tone as if we we’re just some deadbeats and probably didn’t make more than him.  He was the manager not the owner, I would take me on the over #fakeballer. I explained that one person outside of our group couldn’t afford his bill, we wasn’t paying, not my job to give a damn. Meanwhile, ol boy was sitting there looking at the check like it was written in heiroglyphs. Like 20 minutes later.  He was all squinting at it waiting for it to change. Hilarious.  So the manager turns around and unnecessarily announces that he will cover the difference and storms off.  Ol boy quickly exited stage left, his pride still left on that check.

So the morals of the story here:
1. Don’t go to jazz lounges, especially on poetry night.
2. Don’t say your tab name at the bar so others can hear you
3. if you only got $25, get you a bottle, call a ladyfriend over and watch Netflix
4. Don’t give lightskinned dudes in tight blazers any power
5. Don’t give me Patron anything

The end.

-Stan-

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