Sunday, November 29, 2009

Last Night a DJ Saved My Life or Super Lesbian to the Rescue!

"Kenny Loggins is fucking dope!!!! Seriously"
That is a text I got at 1:42 Saturday afternoon from my best friend Brandi. She was driving the long 8 hours back from South Carolina clearly deep into song 3,124 of her 6000 songs on her ipod. Kenny Loggins? Really? Well to each his own.

I texted her back to see what time she would be home and to text me when she got in. I wanted to be sure she got home safe. She texts back asking if we were going to go out when she returned. Now let me just say that brandi shelton be playin with a chick's emotions. She knows good darn well she is not going to feel like going out after driving back from her folks house. But I haven't been out dancing in so long I jumped at the opportunity and crossed my fingers that she wouldn't back out when she got home. So I jumped on the internet to the hub of my entertainment information, facebook of course. I found out that DJ Jahsonic was going to be at Eighteenth Street Lounge. I first saw Jahsonic at Marvins on the Monday of Bassey Ikpi's birthday celebration Part Deux: The Eatonville and Marvins Edition. He played a mix of soul, R & B, classic hip-hop, and rare grooves. I woulda sweat my perm out if I had a perm! So I knew ESL was the place to be if he was going to be spinning there. And since brandi was currently pumpin the Kenny Loggins, I figured she would appreciate the variety.

I figured out what I was going to wear. I got these new jeans this weekend and with all the turkey and mac and cheese I ate this week, my ass looked PHENOMENAL in them. And I say that with the most humility I can muster.

So the night was so much fun! We got in and because of the crowd or management or both, Jahsonic was playing some housey, no lyric music. But we got in for half price (gotta appreciate that dredloc'd family hook-up), so we were going to have fun regardless. We head straight to the bar and decided it was going to be a Jack and Gingerale kind of night.

So much fun happens with my man Jack! So after a couple of cocktails we find a place to sit and take in the sights. Right at that same time Jahsonic starts playing the hell out of some music boy! Prince, Eurythmics, Run DMC. Everybody was jammin'. Brandi and I start dancing and singing. And because I must have "I date white boys" written on my forehead, random drunk ass white boy comes up and starts talking to me. As of this writing I have no idea what he was talking about. I know he said that he was Irish and thats why he was drunk. He kept saying how I was gorgeous, and that he didn't know how to dance. Yeah word to Plies. Just a P.S.A. public drunkenness is not cute.

Just as I had taken as much hugs and slurred words as I could from this dude, I take the opportunity to give Jahsonic the side eye to remind him about my song. He gave me a head nod and a hand shake and kept playin what he was playin. I should have known, the deejays I know hate it when you request songs. Side note: Jahsonic has the softest hands ever. What kind of moisturizer you use, son? I get back to my spot and I see brandi looking all pissed that I left her with the drunk dude. His posse is leaving so he tries his hand a little touchy feel feel before he goes. Um, no dude. not having it. Here's a hug for you and a hug from brandi, now get to steppin.

We keep dancing and decide to go to the other side of the room, just in case drunkey mcdrunkerson comes back. We get to our new spot and brandi tousels the hair of this dread as she walks by. Well, needless to say thats who she was dancing with for the rest of the evening. Me, I danced with the sweater vested, tie wearing Trini who was a good 3 or4 inches shorter than I was. Its not a problem. I'm pretty tall for a girl. So I'm used to being the same height or a smidge taller than dudes. But catch this. He uses the most fabulous short man pick up line ever on me. After we were dancing for a while he says in my ear, "I see you're not too tall to have a short conversation." Wow. No words. I don't know why I thought that was awesome, but it was. Like Brandi says, I'm a soft touch. We danced all night until the lights came on. I don't think thats happened since college.

Anyway night over, we race back to the garage where we were parked to retrieve the car. It was 2:56 and the garage closed at 3am. We get in the car and head back to Maryland. We get a couple of blocks and brandi says, OMG I think we're running out of gas. I look at her gas guage and it says she still has a quarter of a tank left. I said, "you can't be running out of gas. the guage says you still have some." Then I feel what she's talking about. The car isn't moving as she is pressing on the gas. It won't get beyond 2nd gear. We pull over to the side of the road. Ever the voice of reason, I say,"I think we can make it. Can't we make it to a gas station?" Okay not the best advice but to my defense I was 3 1/2 Jack n' Gingerales in.

Brandi decides not to risk it and instead moves into a parking spot on the side of K street. Okay here is the moment that all single girls dread. You're stuck on the side of the road, who do you call? I was for sure not going to call my Dad or my brother. Because even though I knew they would come, I sure as hell didn't want to get the lecture on the way home. So I called the only male person I know that would probably come and get us without to much of an attitude. And I say male, because I still am under the impression that there is certain things that are just male duties. Like taking out the trash, killing bugs, putting together furniture, and tonight: rescuing damsels in distress. So I call him, and: no answer. I text him: no answer. Brandi closes my phone in disgust and makes her phone call. Not a dude, but the next best thing. Someone you think of when you think of someone handy, take charge, and down for whatever at after 3am: a lesbian.

Yes, she has a name. No I'm not going to tell you. And she is much more than a lesbian she is brandi's home girl and clearly reliable. So after a phone call to wake her up and to let her know our situation, she is on the way to pick us up. And she arrives shortly later like an angel in a knit cap, blastin' Tupac's Thug Life in the car. She drives us home and kicks our drunk asses out when we get to the house. Yaaay, rescued! The next morning my would be knight in shining armour called to make sure we were ok. He had missed our call and slept through the text. I was glad he called to check on us. But happier that we were able to handle it ourselves.

The moral of the story: ladies, you don't need a man to bail you out of situations, all you need is a handy lesbian with access to a car.

Or Triple A, whatevs

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