6.09.2006
Home buying headaches
So I guess I DON'T have the house yet... Now I realize, you can agree on everything you want with someone, but without the bank's money, the deal is no good.
Problem #1: the appraisal came in lower than the purchase price and lists a number of things that are wrong with the house. My lender won't loan the money on the house without seeing these things get fixed....... SSSOOOO, I'm in a holding pattern, where the seller is mad that the appraisal came in low because now he has to lower his selling price to the appraisal amount (or I guess he could walk away from the deal).
Problem #2: so who is going to take care of all the things that need to get fixed?? The seller doesn't want to do it, I planned on doing it, but won't spend the money to get it fixed BEFORE I even own the house??? but SOMEONE has to fix it, or the lender ain't giving Curtis no money to buy it. Sure I could find a sub-par lender that would loan me money on the house, but I'm doing a full doc loan with an A-list lender to ensure it gets serviced properly and to help me get a better rate. Thus, their requirements for who they loan money to are a little more strict than most lenders.
I was going to post a few pics, but now I feel like I should just hold off, I don't want to get my (and your) hopes up for a house that I may never set foot in again...
On a GOOD note, if I do get the house....... THE TOILET FLUSHED!!!! WOO-HOO!!!! So we had the water turned on so that I could have the last part of the home inspection complted (testing the water pressure) and my lesbian home inspector gave me a disclaimer before (s)he went to flush the toilet that if it flooded and Wayne's shit went all over the place it was going to be all on me. (no pun intended) Luckily it flushed okay, so I now know (if I buy the house) if I happened to go out of town for a week and let someone stay in my crib while I was gone, if that someone would happen to shit in my toilet for an entire week without flushing it when I got home, the toilet would flush without incident..
... this is the sort of thing you can't normally test for except under the extreme circumstances of purchasing a crack house. My house will be the most durable house on the block!! So cross your fingers and pray everything works out because I really like this house, but if it doesn't, I'm sure I'll find something else..
~C
okay, here is one pic for you below.... this is the main stair case at the entry... all the millwork seems to be original and in great shape.. all of the openings in the house have the wood trim as you see in the foreground... but many of the walls also have the yellow, cigarette stained, painted, wood-panelling which I would tear down within the first 5 minutes of owning the house.
6.08.2006
6.01.2006
Crackhead Urine is some potent shit
Let me start the story with my 15 year old lesbian home inspector....
After a few back and forths with the seller about the contract, we came up with a contract we'd both sign. First thing I had to do was schedule the home inspection. My realtor said she knows a good home inspector and since I don't, I figured, what the hell.
So I roll up to the house to find what looked like a 15 year old boy in a baseball cap up on the roof of my future house. She introduces her self as my home inspector and I have to admit, as much as we all hate to say that we create first impressions based on looks, I know I totally did. She turned out to be real, real dope though. It was a very thorough inspection and she knew her shit. Now, her assistants, some brotha with Fubu on was a different story.
Since I had signed the contract, even though I hadn't closed yet, the house is going to be mine, so I made the executive decision that Wayne (the homeless guy living in the house) had to go. On my way to the home inspection I stopped by the Home Depot to pick up some 2x4's big long nails, etc... because I was going to make sure Wayne couldn't get in after I left the house.
I was PISSED because Wayne had been pissing in a bucket at the back entrance to the house (MF had it almost halfway full!!). Not only was I surprised that he had damn near filled up a painter's bucket in a few days, but his piss damn near looked like Fanta Orange. It had this glow to it that I had never seen in piss before. So I started to feel sorry for Wayne, thinking to myself Wayne is obviously not very healthy, so I took Wayne's stuff and placed it neatly in a stack outside behind the garage where passerby's couldn't see it and mess with it.
Wayne had an old radio, some little toys (the free ones from McDonalds), old couch cushions were his makeshift bed, and a jacket. As I'm putting his stuff out the back, the neighbor next door comes outside to chat. Real cool guy, comes by and cuts the grass for his sister, said he would cut mine too which was really nice. So when he asks me if there is anything else I can do, I say, "Yeah, make sure Wayne doesn't try to break in the house tonight!" to which he replys:
"awww, man, those crackheads just need a place to smoke their shit and sleep for the night. They ain't gonna harm nothin'."
..............
At that moment, it dawned on me... despite all of the nice original millwork, period details on the stairs, wood floors that were in good shape, and the potential to be a really nice home, at that moment, all I could think was... I just bought a crackhouse......... son-uv-a-bitch.
So I go back inside, up the stairs where I'm met with an AWFUL, AWFUL stench, I couldn't figure out where it was coming from! I'm walking around in the bathroom and can't figure it out... then I lift up the toilet........
THAT NIGGA WAYNE HAD BEEN SHITTING IN MY TOILET!!!!! and since the water isn't on yet.................. he had filled the mfer to the brim.
NOW, I was mad. and all that niceness and pity that I had for Wayne had gone completely out of the window. We go downstairs to the basement and the GOTDAMN WASHING MACHINE WAS GONE!!! I thought the only reason this fool was in there was to GUARD THE MFing APPLIANCES!!! Well he didn't do a good job at that shit!!!
So just as I'm at the peak of being heated.............. Wayne rolls up to the house....
"hey man!"
"NAH MOTHER FU*KER, TIME IS UP WAYNE!! YOU GOTTA GO!"
"well can I get my stuff?"
"IT'S OUT BACK!"
"okay, okay, you ain't gotta be rude?!"
"WELL YOU AIN'T GOTTA PISS AND SHIT ALL OVER THE HOUSE EITHER!!"
... sensing my anger, my realtor pulls me aside and said she'd deal with Wayne. He had a few things stashed under the sink and the realtor got those for him, but I didn't want to see him no more.
......... which brings me to the title of the story...
As I'm continuing to clear the mess out of the house, I grab and dump the painter's bucket full of piss as well as a 2-liter soda bottle that was about 3/4 full of piss, take them down the street and dump them in the sewer.
Two days later, I shit you not, the skin on my fingers starts drying up, then bubbling up and now it's peeling all off my hands. So I holla at my boy's wife who is a dermatologist, describe my symptoms and as soon as I told her I picked up a bucket of his urine and dumped it she's like, "yeah, definitely scabies. It lives in urine." to which my friend ads on, "yeah, every homeless person in DC has it."
THAT SON- UV - A - BITCH!!
Man, it's good to have a close friend who is a doctor. I got the prescription filled 10 minutes later and had to cover my entire body in this lotion and let it sit overnight. I was freaking out since I masterbated last night, but my man seems to be doing okay. Good thing it doesn't take me more than 5 minutes to handle my business. (hey, don't trip, I KNOW myself....)
I'm feeling better today and the symptoms seem to have disappeared and it's been a little over 8 hours since I took the lotion off....
So yeah, the lesson for the day today kiddes: stay far, far away from crackhead piss or risk having your skin look like a shedding snake.
~C
After a few back and forths with the seller about the contract, we came up with a contract we'd both sign. First thing I had to do was schedule the home inspection. My realtor said she knows a good home inspector and since I don't, I figured, what the hell.
So I roll up to the house to find what looked like a 15 year old boy in a baseball cap up on the roof of my future house. She introduces her self as my home inspector and I have to admit, as much as we all hate to say that we create first impressions based on looks, I know I totally did. She turned out to be real, real dope though. It was a very thorough inspection and she knew her shit. Now, her assistants, some brotha with Fubu on was a different story.
Since I had signed the contract, even though I hadn't closed yet, the house is going to be mine, so I made the executive decision that Wayne (the homeless guy living in the house) had to go. On my way to the home inspection I stopped by the Home Depot to pick up some 2x4's big long nails, etc... because I was going to make sure Wayne couldn't get in after I left the house.
I was PISSED because Wayne had been pissing in a bucket at the back entrance to the house (MF had it almost halfway full!!). Not only was I surprised that he had damn near filled up a painter's bucket in a few days, but his piss damn near looked like Fanta Orange. It had this glow to it that I had never seen in piss before. So I started to feel sorry for Wayne, thinking to myself Wayne is obviously not very healthy, so I took Wayne's stuff and placed it neatly in a stack outside behind the garage where passerby's couldn't see it and mess with it.
Wayne had an old radio, some little toys (the free ones from McDonalds), old couch cushions were his makeshift bed, and a jacket. As I'm putting his stuff out the back, the neighbor next door comes outside to chat. Real cool guy, comes by and cuts the grass for his sister, said he would cut mine too which was really nice. So when he asks me if there is anything else I can do, I say, "Yeah, make sure Wayne doesn't try to break in the house tonight!" to which he replys:
"awww, man, those crackheads just need a place to smoke their shit and sleep for the night. They ain't gonna harm nothin'."
..............
At that moment, it dawned on me... despite all of the nice original millwork, period details on the stairs, wood floors that were in good shape, and the potential to be a really nice home, at that moment, all I could think was... I just bought a crackhouse......... son-uv-a-bitch.
So I go back inside, up the stairs where I'm met with an AWFUL, AWFUL stench, I couldn't figure out where it was coming from! I'm walking around in the bathroom and can't figure it out... then I lift up the toilet........
THAT NIGGA WAYNE HAD BEEN SHITTING IN MY TOILET!!!!! and since the water isn't on yet.................. he had filled the mfer to the brim.
NOW, I was mad. and all that niceness and pity that I had for Wayne had gone completely out of the window. We go downstairs to the basement and the GOTDAMN WASHING MACHINE WAS GONE!!! I thought the only reason this fool was in there was to GUARD THE MFing APPLIANCES!!! Well he didn't do a good job at that shit!!!
So just as I'm at the peak of being heated.............. Wayne rolls up to the house....
"hey man!"
"NAH MOTHER FU*KER, TIME IS UP WAYNE!! YOU GOTTA GO!"
"well can I get my stuff?"
"IT'S OUT BACK!"
"okay, okay, you ain't gotta be rude?!"
"WELL YOU AIN'T GOTTA PISS AND SHIT ALL OVER THE HOUSE EITHER!!"
... sensing my anger, my realtor pulls me aside and said she'd deal with Wayne. He had a few things stashed under the sink and the realtor got those for him, but I didn't want to see him no more.
......... which brings me to the title of the story...
As I'm continuing to clear the mess out of the house, I grab and dump the painter's bucket full of piss as well as a 2-liter soda bottle that was about 3/4 full of piss, take them down the street and dump them in the sewer.
Two days later, I shit you not, the skin on my fingers starts drying up, then bubbling up and now it's peeling all off my hands. So I holla at my boy's wife who is a dermatologist, describe my symptoms and as soon as I told her I picked up a bucket of his urine and dumped it she's like, "yeah, definitely scabies. It lives in urine." to which my friend ads on, "yeah, every homeless person in DC has it."
THAT SON- UV - A - BITCH!!
Man, it's good to have a close friend who is a doctor. I got the prescription filled 10 minutes later and had to cover my entire body in this lotion and let it sit overnight. I was freaking out since I masterbated last night, but my man seems to be doing okay. Good thing it doesn't take me more than 5 minutes to handle my business. (hey, don't trip, I KNOW myself....)
I'm feeling better today and the symptoms seem to have disappeared and it's been a little over 8 hours since I took the lotion off....
So yeah, the lesson for the day today kiddes: stay far, far away from crackhead piss or risk having your skin look like a shedding snake.
~C
5.26.2006
I think I bought a house today
I'm not sure when you would say the "official" day I bought it is, but I think I bought a house today. After a few back and forth offers, I decided to accept their offer today on a 70 year old house in the hood. I guess we'll see how much I love my peeps in the upcoming months!!
So here is the story:
Went out with my realtor about a week ago and saw this house I really liked. It was everything that I was looking for in a house. It had good bones, character and lots of potential. The difference between an unrenovated house and a 20,000 renovation is about 100,000 in the asking price. It's ridiculous. There is a house, exactly like mine, but renovated with the stainless steel appliance, granite countertops, and all of the superficial things that make people think its a top flight renovation, and it is literally $100,000 more than the one I'm buying.
I suppose people would rather pay for the convenience of having something finished already. I can tolerate substandard living conditions for an extended period of time if I know there is a payoff in the end. I totally attribute this mentality to my months travelling across Europe with one bag and the same two pairs of pants. I'm saying, I know I'm not having a dinner party anytime soon, but the place is livable for me, while I'm doing the renovations over time.
The first time I went there, there was two random couch cushions, banana peel and a 20 oz can of Schlitz in the kitchen. We couldn't quite tell if it was a squatter or if it was stuff that had been left behind, but the banana looked pretty fresh. Well, I went back a second time with a contractor friend of mine to really get a good gauge on how much renovation work is needed and there was MORE stuff in the living room, as well as a knife sitting on the makeshift bed.
No one was there again, but this time as we're going to lock up the place a brotha with liquor on the breath rolled up and said,
"say.... say.... say bruh....... let me holla at you for a minute........."
now, whenever someone you don't know walks up to you and says this, you know their about to ask you for some shit. If I'm in the grocery store and I want to know where the Windex is, I'm going to go up to the guy in the green shirt and say, "Where's the Windex?" If I roll up to the guy in the green shirt and say, "let me holla at you for a minute...." It's usually going to be followed by something like, ".. you think you can hook me up with a discount on that blue stuff?"
So he continues, "yeah...., um....., so...., like......, it's like this........."
This is another tell tale sign, someone is going to ask you for some shit, if they're taking too long to say what they gotta say....
Then he rants, "The realtor lady from before told me I could stay here, and keep watch on the appliances to make sure nobody takes them or nothing like that, see I was renting the place when she put in on the market, and, um, she said I could keep an eye out on things. So you know if you want I can clean the place up for you and have it all looking good and stuff, but I'm just keeping an eye on things to make sure you know nobody takes the appliances. They'll all be here when you move in and if you need help carrying some stuff I can lift like 2-3 hundred pounds because that's why the realtor lady has me doing this job and my name is Wayne so if you need anything, just holler at Wayne. So that is why this back door is unlocked so that I can just come in and keep an eye out on things."
First of all, why do drunks repeat themselves over and over again?
So, I have an alcoholic named Wayne living in the house I'm about to buy. Wayne has English muffins, OJ, and beer in the fridge and is there to keep an eye out on my appliances. As this is going on, I'm thinking to myself, this is going to make a good chronicle.... Then I got home and thought to myself all of the great stories that might commence with me and Wayne if I got this house. The things I do for y'all I swear.
So here is the story:
Went out with my realtor about a week ago and saw this house I really liked. It was everything that I was looking for in a house. It had good bones, character and lots of potential. The difference between an unrenovated house and a 20,000 renovation is about 100,000 in the asking price. It's ridiculous. There is a house, exactly like mine, but renovated with the stainless steel appliance, granite countertops, and all of the superficial things that make people think its a top flight renovation, and it is literally $100,000 more than the one I'm buying.
I suppose people would rather pay for the convenience of having something finished already. I can tolerate substandard living conditions for an extended period of time if I know there is a payoff in the end. I totally attribute this mentality to my months travelling across Europe with one bag and the same two pairs of pants. I'm saying, I know I'm not having a dinner party anytime soon, but the place is livable for me, while I'm doing the renovations over time.
The first time I went there, there was two random couch cushions, banana peel and a 20 oz can of Schlitz in the kitchen. We couldn't quite tell if it was a squatter or if it was stuff that had been left behind, but the banana looked pretty fresh. Well, I went back a second time with a contractor friend of mine to really get a good gauge on how much renovation work is needed and there was MORE stuff in the living room, as well as a knife sitting on the makeshift bed.
No one was there again, but this time as we're going to lock up the place a brotha with liquor on the breath rolled up and said,
"say.... say.... say bruh....... let me holla at you for a minute........."
now, whenever someone you don't know walks up to you and says this, you know their about to ask you for some shit. If I'm in the grocery store and I want to know where the Windex is, I'm going to go up to the guy in the green shirt and say, "Where's the Windex?" If I roll up to the guy in the green shirt and say, "let me holla at you for a minute...." It's usually going to be followed by something like, ".. you think you can hook me up with a discount on that blue stuff?"
So he continues, "yeah...., um....., so...., like......, it's like this........."
This is another tell tale sign, someone is going to ask you for some shit, if they're taking too long to say what they gotta say....
Then he rants, "The realtor lady from before told me I could stay here, and keep watch on the appliances to make sure nobody takes them or nothing like that, see I was renting the place when she put in on the market, and, um, she said I could keep an eye out on things. So you know if you want I can clean the place up for you and have it all looking good and stuff, but I'm just keeping an eye on things to make sure you know nobody takes the appliances. They'll all be here when you move in and if you need help carrying some stuff I can lift like 2-3 hundred pounds because that's why the realtor lady has me doing this job and my name is Wayne so if you need anything, just holler at Wayne. So that is why this back door is unlocked so that I can just come in and keep an eye out on things."
First of all, why do drunks repeat themselves over and over again?
So, I have an alcoholic named Wayne living in the house I'm about to buy. Wayne has English muffins, OJ, and beer in the fridge and is there to keep an eye out on my appliances. As this is going on, I'm thinking to myself, this is going to make a good chronicle.... Then I got home and thought to myself all of the great stories that might commence with me and Wayne if I got this house. The things I do for y'all I swear.
So I guess I'll find out soon if I got this place or not. I might just be a homeowner this week with an outlandish mortgage payment.... sonuvabitch...
~C
5.25.2006
A few thoughts on immigration
With all the immigration talks going on lately, I thought I'd weigh in my $.02 on the issue.
See, us black folks have a whole different type of struggle when it comes to the immigration debate which makes it hard to take a stand either way. The way a person (any person) feels about the immigration issue is a pretty good indicator about what type of cultural value system they have. So I'm not saying I really HAVE a strong position on the issue, but here are some of the thoughts that go into my thinking on this.
First, there is this misconception that permeates the immigration debate that I have a problem with and that is the belief that all immigrants are very hard working, and blacks are lazy and won't work. I'm not saying there aren't any lazy niggas in this world, but what I AM saying is that there are both a lot of hard working black, and a bunch of lazy Latinos too.
One of the arguments I hear a lot is that these are "non-American citizens" taking jobs away from "american citizens". Well, who has the authority to define what an "american citizen" is? Please tell me because people are coming here in the same way that our forefathers came here: without a dinner invite. So we're no more of an American citizen by right to land than they are... Now, if you want to introduce cultural issues into the debate that is a different issue. I can tell you from first hand experience.. Me personally, I don't have much in common with Mexicans. I've been there, done that and really tried hard to make the link, but culturally our backgrounds are very different and rooted in two completely different histories for me to find a common ground with the Mexican chicks. (of course it's all about the chicks.)
I read in an Economist article that nearly 1/2 of blacks in urban areas are unemployed. No fucking wonder every time I go house shopping in "up and coming areas" there ain't nothing but niggas hanging out washing their cars!! I'm thinking to myself, damn, my car needs a car wash too!!! It's that and folks sitting on steps braiding hair.... I shouldn't judge, because maybe she was trying to get herself looking right for a job interview.... BUT the fact remains that we as a people are struggling economically in many respects, so I find the urge to be against the free importation of people with lower job set skills that would increase the pool of applicants that my lower skill set brethen are competing over. Lastly on this note, Cosby is right. We aren't doing enough at home, and we've pointed the finger at a racist and unequal educational system for too long. We have to start solving our own problems and quit complaining about the 4 million (or whatever the number is) immigrants that are coming across our borders every year.
Also, there is a long history of Blacks and Latinos working together in the struggle for equal rights in this country. I recently read in one of my MLK books where he was praying for Coretta to have a safe flight to California as she was on her way to go visit Cesar Chavez in prison. But this current movement does not feel unified in the least bit. Besides random press releases from Jesse Jackson (who always takes the opportunity to be in front of the cameras), it has a "we don't need the Negroes this time" feel to it. It could be a self-empowering move, which I would understand, but I've heard in a number of different ways "You had your movement, and now we're going to have ours." But that does nothing to rally blacks behind the cause, if anything it makes us say, "well, cool, go do your thing then, because we still have a lot of work to do ourselves."
I think its important to realize that this isn't JUST a Mexican issue either. This country has huge discrepencies in it's imigration tactics, mainly based on politics that it has enacted for years. For example, we let every Cuban that arrives in our waters stay, yet we send every Hatian home. The "anti-" rhetoric which begins as "Go back to Mexico." can quickly become "Go back to Asia or Africa." I don't know much about the minutemen, but their practices of taking up arms against the "brown others" and goverment empowering them to use force if necessary is eerily reminiscent of the KKK of the 60's.
Ultimately, like so many other things in this country, it all comes down to money. As long as companies are allowed to exploit immigrants, bring them into our restaurants, homes, & construction sites at rates 10 times better than what they would receive in their country of origin, they will continue to find ways to come. It's clear that they want the same things we want: a good job, a good home, be able to take kids to a movie and out to Red Lobster at the end of the day, and is there anything so wrong with that?
~C
See, us black folks have a whole different type of struggle when it comes to the immigration debate which makes it hard to take a stand either way. The way a person (any person) feels about the immigration issue is a pretty good indicator about what type of cultural value system they have. So I'm not saying I really HAVE a strong position on the issue, but here are some of the thoughts that go into my thinking on this.
First, there is this misconception that permeates the immigration debate that I have a problem with and that is the belief that all immigrants are very hard working, and blacks are lazy and won't work. I'm not saying there aren't any lazy niggas in this world, but what I AM saying is that there are both a lot of hard working black, and a bunch of lazy Latinos too.
One of the arguments I hear a lot is that these are "non-American citizens" taking jobs away from "american citizens". Well, who has the authority to define what an "american citizen" is? Please tell me because people are coming here in the same way that our forefathers came here: without a dinner invite. So we're no more of an American citizen by right to land than they are... Now, if you want to introduce cultural issues into the debate that is a different issue. I can tell you from first hand experience.. Me personally, I don't have much in common with Mexicans. I've been there, done that and really tried hard to make the link, but culturally our backgrounds are very different and rooted in two completely different histories for me to find a common ground with the Mexican chicks. (of course it's all about the chicks.)
I read in an Economist article that nearly 1/2 of blacks in urban areas are unemployed. No fucking wonder every time I go house shopping in "up and coming areas" there ain't nothing but niggas hanging out washing their cars!! I'm thinking to myself, damn, my car needs a car wash too!!! It's that and folks sitting on steps braiding hair.... I shouldn't judge, because maybe she was trying to get herself looking right for a job interview.... BUT the fact remains that we as a people are struggling economically in many respects, so I find the urge to be against the free importation of people with lower job set skills that would increase the pool of applicants that my lower skill set brethen are competing over. Lastly on this note, Cosby is right. We aren't doing enough at home, and we've pointed the finger at a racist and unequal educational system for too long. We have to start solving our own problems and quit complaining about the 4 million (or whatever the number is) immigrants that are coming across our borders every year.
Also, there is a long history of Blacks and Latinos working together in the struggle for equal rights in this country. I recently read in one of my MLK books where he was praying for Coretta to have a safe flight to California as she was on her way to go visit Cesar Chavez in prison. But this current movement does not feel unified in the least bit. Besides random press releases from Jesse Jackson (who always takes the opportunity to be in front of the cameras), it has a "we don't need the Negroes this time" feel to it. It could be a self-empowering move, which I would understand, but I've heard in a number of different ways "You had your movement, and now we're going to have ours." But that does nothing to rally blacks behind the cause, if anything it makes us say, "well, cool, go do your thing then, because we still have a lot of work to do ourselves."
I think its important to realize that this isn't JUST a Mexican issue either. This country has huge discrepencies in it's imigration tactics, mainly based on politics that it has enacted for years. For example, we let every Cuban that arrives in our waters stay, yet we send every Hatian home. The "anti-" rhetoric which begins as "Go back to Mexico." can quickly become "Go back to Asia or Africa." I don't know much about the minutemen, but their practices of taking up arms against the "brown others" and goverment empowering them to use force if necessary is eerily reminiscent of the KKK of the 60's.
Ultimately, like so many other things in this country, it all comes down to money. As long as companies are allowed to exploit immigrants, bring them into our restaurants, homes, & construction sites at rates 10 times better than what they would receive in their country of origin, they will continue to find ways to come. It's clear that they want the same things we want: a good job, a good home, be able to take kids to a movie and out to Red Lobster at the end of the day, and is there anything so wrong with that?
~C
5.14.2006
Strippers in public
So, what do you say when you bump into a stripper on the street?
I was walking down the street minding my own business when a sexy lady stopped me and said, "Hey Curtis!" At first, I couldn't remember where I knew her from, so I'm playing it off like I remember her, "HEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!! What's going on??? How have you been?" etc... So after chatting it up for a few minutes of BS, it hit me where I knew her from! The Royal Palace!
It wasn't until I asked, "Hows the job going?" when her answer clued me in. She was talking about how slow its been, but she had one of her regulars who comes in and always tries to take her home hit her off with $500 just to sit, hang out and talk with her all night. I'm thinking to myself, damn, BS conversation for 5 bills??!!! I could do this shit!!
The Royal Palace is a hole in the wall strip joint nearby where I work and if I get off late and want to have a beer and unwind a bit, I go there from time to time. I figure, I could have a beer in a bar where I don't know anyone and be all by myself, OR I could have a beer in a bar where I don't know anyone, be all by myself, and have some titties in my face. The choice is an easy one.
So as we're chatting I realize this is one of the hardest conversations to have! But then I realize she has the same problems we all have. The feeling of being overworked and underpaid seems to permeate all of our jobs, and she was no exception. All of the hours in the gym making sure she stays fit, the inability to eat whatever you want, and of course work drama. Some girl stole one of her shoes because one of the regulars likes her now instead of Passion.
I was going to ask her what her real name was, but then it dawned on me that I didn't really care. I much prefer her as background titty for my after-work drink than one of my homies that I can go kick it with. I realize that might sound harsh, but if I'm hanging out with some strippers... nevermind....
She asked me when I was going to come and see her again and I told her soon, but now its going to be weird I think... When I used to bartend there was a crew of strippers that used to come in after they got off work, but THAT was cool because I knew they were strippers and nobody else did... the whole "I know something you don't know" thing has an empowering feeling about it... They were always good tippers too....
So I'm rethinking me feelings about strip clubs. This girl ruined it for me and no longer lets me go and let the ladies simply be objects to me. I've always treated the ladies with the utmost respect whenever I go, but in my mind, they were still objects trying to extract as much cash out of my pocket as possible... now I don't feel that way, they are being exploited by "the man" (no pun intended) just trying to make a dollar like you and me.
Lesson learned: Strippers are people too.
I was walking down the street minding my own business when a sexy lady stopped me and said, "Hey Curtis!" At first, I couldn't remember where I knew her from, so I'm playing it off like I remember her, "HEEEEEEYYYYYYYY!!!! What's going on??? How have you been?" etc... So after chatting it up for a few minutes of BS, it hit me where I knew her from! The Royal Palace!
It wasn't until I asked, "Hows the job going?" when her answer clued me in. She was talking about how slow its been, but she had one of her regulars who comes in and always tries to take her home hit her off with $500 just to sit, hang out and talk with her all night. I'm thinking to myself, damn, BS conversation for 5 bills??!!! I could do this shit!!
The Royal Palace is a hole in the wall strip joint nearby where I work and if I get off late and want to have a beer and unwind a bit, I go there from time to time. I figure, I could have a beer in a bar where I don't know anyone and be all by myself, OR I could have a beer in a bar where I don't know anyone, be all by myself, and have some titties in my face. The choice is an easy one.
So as we're chatting I realize this is one of the hardest conversations to have! But then I realize she has the same problems we all have. The feeling of being overworked and underpaid seems to permeate all of our jobs, and she was no exception. All of the hours in the gym making sure she stays fit, the inability to eat whatever you want, and of course work drama. Some girl stole one of her shoes because one of the regulars likes her now instead of Passion.
I was going to ask her what her real name was, but then it dawned on me that I didn't really care. I much prefer her as background titty for my after-work drink than one of my homies that I can go kick it with. I realize that might sound harsh, but if I'm hanging out with some strippers... nevermind....
She asked me when I was going to come and see her again and I told her soon, but now its going to be weird I think... When I used to bartend there was a crew of strippers that used to come in after they got off work, but THAT was cool because I knew they were strippers and nobody else did... the whole "I know something you don't know" thing has an empowering feeling about it... They were always good tippers too....
So I'm rethinking me feelings about strip clubs. This girl ruined it for me and no longer lets me go and let the ladies simply be objects to me. I've always treated the ladies with the utmost respect whenever I go, but in my mind, they were still objects trying to extract as much cash out of my pocket as possible... now I don't feel that way, they are being exploited by "the man" (no pun intended) just trying to make a dollar like you and me.
Lesson learned: Strippers are people too.
5.02.2006
My new painting!!
I've been itching for a long time to get a piece of art I can be excited about.
Well my trip to Jamaica this weekend, brought me face to face with that painting and it was such a surreal feeling.
I was in Jamaica for a wedding which took place on Saturday at 4:30pm. Well as many of you know, the NFL draft started at 11:00am ET on Saturday. So all of the men were trying to figure out how they could get away from the ladies so they could watch the draft uninterrupted.
Since I don't really care about the NFL draft, I took one for the team and offered to go shopping with the ladies. Our first stop was the Gallery of West Indian Art which has arguably the best collection of original Carribbean art anywhere.
So we're wandering around the art gallery then BAM!!! I turn the corner and my whole body just kinda froze and as I'm sitting there speechless, I finally mumble, "that's hot." The wife of one of my best friends turns the corner, sees it, and in her ever-so-confident way looks at me and says, "you know you gotta get that right?"
... and she was right. I had no idea how much it was, but I knew I had to get it. So I did.
I don't even have a place to put the MF, and I can't imagine how much it's going to cost me to frame a 60" long painting.... so now my house hunting search is completely predicated upon whether or not the house has the right wall to hang this painting...
how crazy is that?? I'm going to base my home buying decision on whether or not it has the perfect place for this painting...
It is by a Cuban artist, Abel G. Matos and is laquered acrylic painted on canvas.... can anyone tell me the difference between acrylic and oil paint??? I almost got one by J.B. Louisius which is the original Haitian artist whose work is often imitated on the streets, but can't quite stand up to the originals. I was equally fascinated by the work of Dieguez but the Matos painting just was calling me from the moment I first saw it.
Oh yeah, and Jamaica was absolutely WONDERFUL!!!
... don't hate.
~C
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