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.