all dogs go to heaven.

so my nights were great, barring a few incidents. here we go...

friday i went out to the royal peacock, as per usual. it was just me, B and two of his friends who are fast becoming my friends. funny enough, their names begin with A and C. i think, in my quest to not use people's names, i shall call the trio ABC.

So anyway, somehow people at work found out we were going out. natural progression; we made these plans last week. but one of these people was the hater. another was mr not gay. btw i dont at all call him that because i think being gay is wrong, i call him that cuz he does. they called B and me to find out what was up. Not Gay said he'd go if someone was paying his way and Hater wanted B to run her all over town so she could get ready. he said no and she hung up on him.

so off we go at midnight. i wore low rise jeans and a peach colored tank with a flower on it. also my white and peach pumas and glow perfume. hair half braids half fro. B's car alarm system was bootleg so as i open the door it goes off. when you turn on a light it goes off. it was janky. Hater calls on the way to ask if he'd come get her from home. he says no and they argue. lol he called her snaggle tooth. i told him to thank god he wasnt with her anymore.

fast forward. we're in the club and i look mad important cuz i have three boys with me. lol or like a ho. the important thing is if i dont want to dance with kingston's exile, i can give them a look and they come save me. A asked if he was my bodyguard. i said yes. i'm not drinking tonight cuz i cant afford it. thanks comcast.

so at about 230, in the depths of a soca mix, who shows up? Hater! and mr Not Gay and Hater's best friend. we'll call her Doll. so they jump in and start dancing and drinking immediately. i'm the only one sober, lol, but no biggie. i usually only get one drink anyway... these girls cannot dance to soca. or any caribbean music. it was all southern booty shaking from them. dont get me wrong i love my down dirty, but you gotta know how to at least wind it up people. you gotta know how to react to a man doing more than a two step.

every time i tried to dance with B, here she was trying to cut in. see why i call her hater? she was definitely choosin. but he was not trying to get chose. C on the other hand... he and Doll were trying to expand their family on the dancefloor. lots of head rubbing and major groping and grinding. they danced for an hour. haaaay...

one of the guys i danced with bought me a bottled water- closed ladies! no date rape drug! how nice. i mean, no questions asked. just as a thanks. i found $10 on the floor. LUCKY! Not Gay got drunk/high and started doing interpretive dance or something. then they played "chichi mon." dont know if youve heard it but its about how the jamaicans dont tolerate the chichi men. you know what a chichi man is. blatant intolerance, and possibly a hint?

the lights come on. we look a mess. the back of my fro is a different texture than the rest. sweat, foundation stains, soreness. i took off my bra in the car. i brought a sweatshirt so i could cover up.

driving home we roasted Hater and them and joked about the fun we had. somewhere on the West End, we're the only ones on the road, looking for the house where the man sells rims, when i look ahead...

"OH MY GOD YOURE GONNA HIT THE DOG!" I scream and duck into the back seat.

wow, havent even gotten to X's party. guess this is as good a time for a cliffhanger. part two soon.