Random Negro Stories File: The Gawker

Hey Peoples! I'm falling back in love with my blog so you guys get a new story. Yay!

I thought that my booedupdom would mean the beginning of the end of the Random Negro Stories File, but I now realize that as long as I am a woman I will continue to encounter random Negroes. This is great! Well at least for the blog.

Anyway, so Friday I inadvertently ended up kicking it with my BF (who will from now on be called The Boy) and his friends. We were just supposed to kick it for a minute after I got off work and then he’d take me home before going to go hang out with the boys.

We ended up doing all this running around and by the time we got around to getting something to eat it was too late for him to take me home before heading to the movies with his friends. Sadly KFC was the healthiest fast food option and we had to bypass one because the line was off the chain. I blame Oprah and her damn free chicken coupons.

Finally, after picking up two of his friends and making a pit stop to his house and the bank, we make it to the movies. He introduces me to the friends I hadn’t met previously and we settle into our seats.

After the movie one of his friends, who we’ll call The Gawker, is all like I can’t believe The Boy has a girlfriend. He’s like I’ve got to take a picture, because no one is going to believe this. So he pulls out his camera phone and The Boy and I pose for a picture. A little later we’re walking back towards our cars and The Gawker says out of nowhere—and all out loud—“And she got body.”

I, equally as loud say, “Wooooooow. Really.” The Boy, who was at my side gets behind me and says, “Stop looking at my girlfriends ass.”

I was stunned. Like really, not only are you ogling your friend’s girlfriend but you do it out loud—not only in earshot of your boy, but his girl too. I need y’all to weigh in on this. I hope in the 25 subscribers to this here blog, some of y’all are men. Help me out here. Aren’t there Man Laws against this? If not, let’s get my local Congressman to work on this.

Random Negro Stories File: Samson Strikes Back

Two blogs in two days. I know you guys are like super shocked, but I just had to come back and update you guys on the Samson situation.

So it turns out that I jumped the gun in naming my previous post “Samson’s Last Request.” I probably should have checked my myspace messages before I posted the blog, but I don’t really be on there like that anymore.

But here’s what I discovered when I logged in this morning (from Samson of course) typos and all:

It was nice talking to you yesterday. To bad we couldn't be friends but I'm glad you finally found that one man that you're on the same page with.

I wish it could have been me but I'm not a hatter just a congratulater so you're still cool peoples with me. Let me know when you have a get together so I can finally meet the man that got on the same page as you since it was impossible for me.

;o)

I guess what they say is true there is someone out here for everyone. Well I'm still single so I guess I'll run into that someone for me someday until then if you have any friends or associates that you think would click with me, then let me know. Hook a brother up.

I, for the life of me can’t understand why he’s so hell bent on meeting my BF. I talked to my trusty male adviser about it, and he said there were a few things going on:

a. he’s trying to say my expectations were too high, and he wants to stick around for when we break up
b. he’s looking for chinks in the armor, of my “perfect” dude
c. he thinks if he can keep me talking then all is not lost

Even thoough, I didn’t respond to that message I’m not sure that’s the last I’ll hear from dude. My male adviser tells me, dudes have no time limits. I wonder if my local Congressman would favor instituting a statute of limitations for these types of things. I’ll ask.

Random Negro Stories File: Samson's Last Request

Hey peoples. I know it’s been a looooooong time. But the Random Negro Stories have been on hiatus because well, I’m booed up. Yes, officially. And it’s not even Winter Bun Season. Go me!

But guess what?!? I got one hot off the presses for y’all.

So yesterday I was on myspace on my phone, trying to figure out if I could update my relationships status without effing my profile up. I did not succeed, so I take a look at my inbox and see what’s been going on.

Right at the top is a message from DRUMROLL PLEASE, Samson!

Yes! I could have sworn the last time we exchanged messages on there that I told him it wasn’t a good idea to try to force a friendship. He is the most persistent man I have ever encountered in my life.

For whatever reason (shits and giggles mostly) I write him back. Nothing special. Just say that I’ve been good and ask the same of him.

Then if that weren’t enough, why do I run into this bamma on the train!

So of course he bombards me with a whole bunch more questions: do I still live in the same place, am I still working two jobs, how’s my car situation going, and of course the question of all questions—have you found that man that’s on your level yet?

I answer that last one in the affirmative and he’s all like I need to meet this dude. WTF? Dude we are not friends. Why would I even consider that proposition? How am I supposed to explain that to the BF? What the hell do you say? “Yeah honey, this dude that was trying to holla at me for the longest wants to meet you. Maybe we can do brunch?” He must think I’m a damn fool. Maybe his braids (yes he still has them joints—and he’s 30) were too tight. I’m gonna ask my local Congressman to get some laws in place to fine men over the age of 22 who are still wearing cornrows. Hell I might ask him to take it further and fine any stylists caught braiding them up.

Anyway, I just laugh him off and go wait for my bus home.

Random Negro Stories File: Return of the Bison/One Degree of Separation

I’m convinced that God uses my dating life for his personal entertainment. You know what’s coming: another installment of Random Negro Stories File. Yippee!

This one features an oldie but goodie: The Bison.

I told y’all about how since the break-off dude hit me up like a month later, making small talk and I pretty much shut him down. Well since then I discovered that he reconnected with the chick he might be talking to (since I can’t definitively say that he is) just a few days after he stood me up. Facebook gives out waaaay too much information. I have to stop e-stalking people because I always find out stuff that I could have lived without knowing.

Then the other day I log into my yahoo personals account and guess who these folks have matched me up with. Yep. The Bison. So I was confused because as far as Facebook tells me (LOL), he’s still dating that girl. So why is he on Yahoo Personals? Of course you know I clicked on his profile, just to see how he advertises himself and after reading it I wish I hadn’t because it wasn’t worth him being able to see that I had viewed his profile. LOL.

So anyway, because that wouldn’t be a random enough story, guess out of all people the in the world who walked into the doors of my new church home: The Bison, and his “new chick.”

They were sitting in the front row, so I’m not sure if he saw me when I walked by to put my offering in the basket, but as I was leaving I got cornered by a church lady and almost ended up bumping into him. I haven’t seen him since the last time we hung out and I didn’t really want to have that awkward ‘oh hey how you doing’ convo with his new chick just a few feet in front of us.

Oh, and tell me why in the course of writing this post did I discover (on Facebook of course, didn't I just tell myself to stop!) that a new guy I’m quasi dating is friends with The Lube Thief. (Sidebar: The Lube Thief also has a profile up on BlackPeopleMeet.com. I’m starting to hate the Internet.) Like they go back to elementary school. I finally meet a guy in person (at a club) and then my Internet transgressions still catch up with me. Why me? I wonder how close they are and whether I’d have to reveal that I did the hokey pokey with his friend. I need my local Congressman to write some laws on this. HELP!

A Plea for Help, From Me to You.

Hello my good readers. I was talking to a good friend the other day about why he had to break up with his girl, and it prompted me to write the following open letter to the women who are making my dating life hard. Yea I know you teach people how to treat you and all that jazz, but my life would be so much easier if I didn't have to undo all the bad habits you've instilled in your former beaus with your actions.

Dear Bad Women Daters:

Let me open this letter with a spirit of thanks. Thank you for being a bad girl friend, thus making your ex available for me to date. However I must say that you did quite a number on him because I’m sure had he not dated you prior to me, I wouldn’t have to encounter the foolishness that makes my Random Negro Stories File possible. Well maybe I should thank you for that too. It does make for good blogging. But we are getting off track here.

On to the three things I'd like you to stop doing ASAP:

I would like you to stop not acting like a lady. Let your guy open doors for you and help you with your coat. Maybe then your ex wouldn’t have told me “this sh*t is getting old” when I sat in the car and waited for him to come around and open my door. (Needless to say that date ended before it really started.) As Uncle Steve says, “Chivalry is not dead, it’s just not required anymore.” Maybe I can get my local Congressman to slip some language into a bill to mandate chivalry again. I'd appreciate it.

I would like you to stop making first date plans. I need me a man with a plan. And you bad women daters have made it way too easy for these dudes to not come up with anything to do. I have great ideas for dates. I’m always emailing myself links for things and take note of the stuff I hear other couples doing, but I want someone who’s going to come up with something for us to do. For a first date (and let me emphasize first date here) all I want to have to do is show up, look cute, and engage you with my conversation. There’ll be plenty of time later for me to come up with things for us to do (outside of the bedroom).

Which brings me to my last point:

I would like you to stop sitting on your lazy ass talking about all you want to do is lay up in the house and f*ck. I am a social being, and while I enjoy the occasional “Let’s make it a blockbuster night” or the “Let’s cuddle to the sound of the rain against my window pane” moments, I want my dating experience to be about way more than that. I actually want to get out of the house. I want to go to movies, museums, happy hours, live band nights, and miniature golfing, and to amusement parks! I want to have picnics in the park and go to wine tastings, and gush at the cherry blossoms. Stop letting these men get out of practice!

I promise to do my part to leave the world with better men so you should do yours.

Thanks in advance for your time and consideration,

CocaColaCutie

Random Negro Stories File: Mr. Telephone Man

Hey peoples. I know it’s been a long time, but I figured I’d dust off the old blog, to share another one of my Random Negro Stories.

Last night I was home minding my own business when my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, but local, so I figured it was someone I’d recently given my number to and I answered.

The person asked for me by name but because I had no idea who it was I asked what his name was. The name doesn’t sound familiar, but to protect the “innocent” well call him Mr. Telephone Man. In an effort to jog my memory, the dude says, “I met you on the chat line.”

RECORD SCRATCH.

Now I know I use a lot of unconventional methods to meet men, but a chat line is not one of them. I ask Mr. Telephone Man for the number to this “chat line” and proceed to google it. My search yields me this result.

Here’s an excerpt for what the chat line promises:

Nightline chat line is the hottest female adult and male adult telephone personals dating service in Baltimore connecting hundreds of local women and local men everyday. Whether you are looking for long-term relationships in Baltimore, casual dates in Baltimore, erotic encounters in Baltimore, fantasies in Baltimore, or couples and swingers in your local Baltimore area Nightline has it all. Nightline Baltimore members ranging from various ages, interests, lifestyles, backgrounds, and personalities.

According to the site, finding the person you want is “fast and easy.”

WHAT IN THE HE SAY SHE SAY?

I don’t even live in Baltimore! Granted it’s not that far from the part of Silver Spring that I live in, but I’m vehicularly challenged so there’s absolutely positively no reason for me be trying to solicit B-more booty.

According to the site here’s how the chat line works:

When you call Nightline we will set you up with your own free voice mailbox that lets you receive messages from other members. You can also record your own audio greeting for others members to listen. Afterwards, spend some time browsing the Baltimore chat network and check out member profiles in five distinct communities. Nightline also has the hottest live chat room where members talk and discuss anything they like.

So Mr. Telephone Man continues to insist that he spoke with me earlier in the day (via this live chat) and that I gave him my number. I continue to insist that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Dude starts recounting “my” description of myself, but when he says light skin, he’s obviously all kinds of off. (CocaColaCutie is not only a reference to my coke bottle shape—watch out now—but also to my coca cola complexion.)

With all my badgering about where this dude came up with my number from, he gets scared off and says he’ll “call me right back.” He doesn’t, so I looked up his number in the White pages, but it turns out to be a mobile number. I called it back today (from the work phone) to see if I could get any more details from a voicemail greeting or something. But it was a generic one.

At first I started to think Nephew Tommy (from the Steve Harvey Morning Show) was playing on my phone, but dude hung up without revealing as much, so I had to rule that out. So now I’m like who in the eff is impersonating me on a dating/erotic services chatline.

Friends I’ve told this story to asked if there was a crazy ex-bf or someone else that could have put dude up to this. I haven’t had a bf in a minute so I’m left only to think that it’s one of the random negroes in my life that may or may not have warranted a mention on this blog. WTF. Why do these things only happen to me? I wonder if I can get my local Congressman to launch an investigation into this.

Random Negro Stories File: No Paparazzi

Hey peoples! I'm back with yet another Random Negro Story. (When will these things end?) So Saturday night I went to this lounge to celebrate a friend's birthday. It was pretty cool. The party was in the VIP section so my friend and I kicked it up there drank a little, danced a lot and were having a really good time. All the guys there for the birthday party came with their gfs/wifeys so I went into the crowd in search of some unattached (or seemingly so) men and dragged my girl along with me.

So we're on the dance floor and I strike up a convo with this guy and start dancing with him when all of a sudden I see a flash. So I look around for the "club photographer" but he or she is not in the vicinity, but there is this guy, who we'll call The Cameraman, with a regular ass digital camera pointed in my direction. So I stop dancing with the guy for a moment and ask The Cameraman if he just took my picture. He said yes and shows me the picture. Thankfully I had turned my head and all he got was my hair.

I don't understand people who take random pictures of people at the club. I mean it would have been one thing if he talked to me or danced with me before trying to take my picture. But to just point and shoot without even having acknowledged my presence--that's crazy. And even after he showed me the picture he didn't attempt to strike up any conversation. He just wanted my picture. For what? I don't even want to think about it. Club photos are fine when you want to remember/realize what that guy/girl you were grinding all up on really looked like after the aaaa...aaa...aa....aaa....aaaaacohol--as Jamie would say has worn off.

But clearly that was not the case here. He was probably going to have my likeness plastered all over the Internet somewhere. Sure he probably thought I was attractive, but I am not a public figure or celebrity. (Although I'm on my way! Ya girl was on MSNBC last week doing the pundit thing about the Madoff ponzi scheme! Still can't find the clip though *sad face*) You don't get to just take pictures of me without my consent or at the very least my awareness. (Dang, at least give me a chance to flash my million dollar smile) There must be some rules on this. I need to check with my local Congressman about that.

But back to the story. I went back to dancing with other guy, and I look up and The Cameraman is again trying to take my picture. So I put my hand up to block my face. So I turn to the guy I was dancing and I'm like why is he trying to take my picture? He says to me, "That's what you call a fan." And I'm all like but I'm dancing with you. And he says well he likes what he sees and I can't say that I blame him. Way to sneak a compliment in. I did end up giving that guy my number and he sent me a text at 3 a.m. asking where I live. I didn't get the text until Sunday morning, but it matters not anyway. I'm done with the random hookups. 2009 is a new year! Yay me!

In other news, No Love in '08, sent me a text the other day so I ask him how his wedding plans are going and he said "They're not yet. she has some issues to work on before that happens." A minute later he adds "Minor adjustments." I write back "minor adjustments?" He says "yep" and doesn't elaborate. He asks me about my love life and I say I'm dating and weighing my options. Then I ask him how he decided to take the plunge, but that question got no response.

The whole thing sounds weird to me. First, why are you texting me? We are not friends. I never wanted to just be your friend, so I don't understand this out of the blue texting. When I get engaged, the last thing I'm gonna to be doing is texting some dude it didn't work out with. For what? I'm going to be too wrapped up in my boo to be worried about catching up with that whack guy--and I'm going to be even less concerned about the state of his love life.

Second, shouldn't the "minor adjustments" have been worked out before you decided to propose? I'm pretty sure whatever it was didn't just pop up after he showed up with a ring. The only minor adjustments I want to have to make after I get engaged are cosmetic. Like how much weight do I have to lose to get into the wedding dress of my dreams type stuff.

I do wonder why he decided not to answer my question about how he decided to take the plunge. I wonder if it means that he really doesn't have an answer. Or maybe he just feels like he doesn't have to explain himself to me. The world may never know.