Bar Fights:MusiqSoulchildEye

Last night, after a shopping trip for a grown and sexy alumni boat ride my girl and I are going on in a couple of weeks, we decided to hit up Fridays for a couple of drinks and appetizers. It was jumping, even out in Laurel. So after snagging some prime bar real estate, we chat up our cutie bartender and he hooks us up with his specialty drink. So we're feeling good, feeling great. I'm cheesing hard and my jaw is slackening, the sign of a really great drink for me.

So we're chatting and drinking and what not, getting our economical buzz on (a few drinks and appetizers at the bar are like half priced after 10). The new cast of Grey's Anatomy is to our right, and we've donned the black dude "Jerome O'Malley." They exit stage left and then enters this dude wearing his "stunna shades." At Friday's? Really? I abhor people who wear sunglasses (for other than medical reasons) inside...at night...no less...in a dark ass bar.

But as I said we were feeling good, feeling great, and in a chatty mood. So my girl
strikes up a convo with him, telling him he's brave for leaving his drink unattended. So we're all talking, exchange names (some were changed to protect the innocent). Apparently he's feeling my girl, and he has the audacity to ask me to get up out of my seat so he can sit closer to her. I look at him like he's done lost his damn mind. He laughs it off, like he was just joking, but I know he was just serious. Call me a cockblocker if you want, but no real man is gonna make a woman get up out of her seat at the bar to chat up her friend. If you really want to talk to her that damn bad, go stand your ass on the other side of her. So this, in retrospect, is sign number one that things are going to go downhill real fast.

I'm irritated with him at this point, but I let it slide. We find out he's from N.Y. and my girl has a moment with him, since she's from Strong Island. We play a round of "Guess what branch of the military he's in." He tells me, since I'm sitting closer to him, that he's Air Force, which confirms for me why I'm irritated with him. He's a crazy ass military dude. But I continue to let it go, cuz my girl is having a seemingly good time chatting this fool up. Not that she was interested in him or anything, but she really just likes talking shit to random ass niggas. Tonight was no different.

Shit started to hit the fan when my girl asks him, "I'm not trying to be rude or funny or anything, but what's with the shades in the bar? Can you even see, or do you have the MusiqSoulchild eye, you tryna cover up?" I bust out laughing. Seemingly he takes it on the chin, knowing that it was all in good fun, and responds, "Actually it's not dark when I see through them...I can see where the Chinese lady cut too much off your left eyebrow and didn't take enough off of the right one." DAMN! But my girl is a sport and takes it all in stride. She's like aight, I can take it, I guess I deserve that for the Musiq comment. But then homie gets all serious and retreats to his part of the bar. Then he comes back and says, "See you shouldn't use people's physical disabilities as a joke." DAMN!! Homie really did have the MusiqSoulchildEye! LMAO. He continues his bitch moment, and says "See this is why I don't even like Maryland. I just come here and make my money and go."

Now I get irritated. And in case you don't know when I have a lil likka (yea i said it) in my system I can be belligerent, but only when provoked. So I go off, probably dispelling Bill O'Rielly's moment of clarity and furthering racial stereotypes. But at this point I don't care. So I say, "You know what don't even talk to me anymore." He's like, "Don't even talk to me anymore?" He bitches some more about how he doesn't know why I'm carrying on because even my girl said that she was wrong, and I'm mad because you're sitting in between us. *RECORD SCRATCH* He went back to his drink but I went off!! I was like I knew you were an asshole, but I didn't know you were that much of an asshole. I got LOUD! I string off a bunch of expletives. That's some bullshit, some muhfuckin' bullshit. This asshole...yada yada yada. Really the only cuss word I didn't use was bitch. And really, had my girl not been trying to calm me down saying its not worth it and what not I'd a called him a bitch ass nigga. Cuz that's what he was. MusiqSoulchildEye's food finally comes and he's like I can't sit here anymore, I need a booth. These two guys sitting in the booth behind us, offer up their seats in favor of the bar and he moves on.

I keep going off so much so that our cutie bartender comes from behind the bar and is trying to make sure I'm ok. He was all sweet and consoling and what not. Then he makes us this fantabulous pineapple upside-down shot and all is good with the world. We end up chatting up the guys that replaced MusiqSoulchildEye and they redeemed the night. Cutie bartender tells us we need to come back and all was good in the hood.

Do Not Call: Me

So Congress is all worried about people having to re-register on the national do-not-call-list, by next September. As much as I hate telemarketers, even more annoying is being on the receiving end of an undesired late night booty call. Even telemarketers stop calling by a certain hour.

So Congress: I say you refocus your efforts to create a new registry for daters. You could call it the do-not-booty-call list. Hell if telemarketers should have to check their call lists against a registry, I should be able to register my phone number to protect me against unwanted, unsolicited booty calls. I mean here I am in my peaceful slumber and your horny ass just had to wake me up tryna get some. Problem is, I don't want your ass, and all you've done is made me want someone else.

So back to this registry. It should totally be linked to your cellie. These days cell phone manufacturers are pretty crafty. If they can make a phone that locks down when your blood alcohol is at a certain level to keep you from drunk dialing, surely the can lock up your phone from calling certain numbers after a certain time.

Really, I just want to be taken off your 2 a.m. list. Seriously, if you're not tryna holla at me at 2 p.m. to go to a movie, or lunch or bowling, or for a walk in the park, don't call me at 2 a.m. for a romp in the hay.