Attending this event made me realize how short my fuse is, the older I get.
First off...I almost cursed out the security guard at the front desk. Now mind you, perhaps I wasn't speaking clearly enough or making my point clear, especially since the guard was not from this country. I simply asked him to call upstairs for Butta, as she is an employee of this company. He asked if I were there for the listening party. I answered in the affirmative. He sent me over to a woman who was handing out passes to get into the event. She, in turn, sent me back over to the guard. Again, I asked him to call Butta. He actually asked me if I had her work number!
Um...no...because she and I both WORK during the day and do not have phone marathons like we did in college. But I digress.
He pulls out the employee directory, seemingly under duress. By this time I had called Butta on her cell and told her that the guard wasn't trying to call her, and that I was in the lobby. She must have heard the tone in my voice that indicated there was about to be an international incident, as she came to the lobby post haste. She vouched for me (as she was wearing her employee badge) and the guard told me to sign in. Then, he had the nerve to snipe at me, saying, "You said you were here for the listening party."
Jesus keep me near the cross.
I snapped back that I told him I was here to see an employee who invited me to the listening party, but that he couldn't be bothered to look up her damn number. Butta calmly escorted me away from the guard's desk, picked up our passes, and we went to the event. Then she suggested that I get an adult beverage to calm my ass down.
I try not to show out in my friend's places of employment, but damn.
Okay...onto the listening party.
First off: the bar was late opening. The guy behind the bar was only serving sodas (after multiple requests for the hard stuff), saying that they had to get permission from whomever was in charge of the bar to start serving liquor.
WTF?!
Now, my nerves were already frayed, and a rum and Coke would have smoothed me out something lovely. So I did not need to hear that bullshit. Butta suggested that we check out the nibbles, and we did so. I think she was more afraid that I was going to kirk the eff out (as they say here in the DC urrea).
Wow...they had an eclectic spread! The requisite chicken wings; potato puffs; crab puffs; mini egg rolls; little pigs-in-blankets; rolls; potato salad; veggie and cheese platters. We got the business card of the caterer; should have known something was up when he listed the types of events that he catered and "Cabarets" were first on the list.
So we get our food and finally notice that the bar was open. OF course, this being a rap event, the Hen-dawg (that's Hennessy to those in the know) was in effect. Washington National Liquors pulled out the stops and had premium liquors up in there: Hennessy, Ciroc, 10 Cane Rum, Navan. And it was all FREE!! I was impressed. I get my rum and Coke and Butta and I sit to the side and nosh.
I get very talkative when I drink and my normal polite/civil veneer tends to erode. So I had commentary as the evening went on. Included in my sotto voce rantings were:
- The two broads in front of us who thought they were on a fashion shoot, and were wearing the camera out in the digital camera. The sad thing is, the one who kept posing had the nerve to wear a sheer white top and a FUSCHIA bra underneath. *shaking head* Just TACKY. And from the way she was posing, I suspected that she was trying to get down with Juvenile's camp in some way, maybe get in a video or something. Her aura gave me the vibe that she probably strips on weekends or something and thought she was the next Trina.
- The chick who wore these big, furry white boots. I was like, damn: someone killed the Coca-Cola polar bear!
- The young boys who were in the mix. I was like, did someone bus over a load of kids from Sursum Corda?
- The guy who had a video screen sewn into the back of his jacket...and it had sound. The feature was a Juvenile video. Another guy had a similar screen sewn into the back of a knapsack. He really stood out in my memory because he had a faux iced-out chain and was doing the Runing Man at one point. My flabber was so gasted. Just COLORED.
- One guy looked like a long lost member of the Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. (If you were born after 1975, you don't know nothing 'bout that. LOL).
- Miss Kitty (a radio personality) is not cute. At all. She looked like Busta Douglas.
- Juvenile was still blinging, but he wouldn't flash the ice grill when I snapped a pic of him and Butta. Said one needed to crack a joke to get him to do that. Oh well...his iced-out shades and rings were enough.
- Oh, and I got a contact high from the weed smokers.
Juvenile, of course, gave commentary on every new cut that was played from Reality Check, including the song that straight jacked "Posse On Broadway" by Sir Mix-a-Lot (At least he admitted it up front. The young heads wouldn't remember that cut but Butta and I sho'nuff did...we jammed enough to it back in the day!). And one song had the lyrics "Wanna see you shake it like a dog." Mind you, Juvie made it a point to say that his mama loved that song.
Jesus wept.
He and Miss Kitty seemed perplexed that no one was dropping it like it was hot, but I guess they failed to understand that the listening party was not at a club, but at a place of business, and most folks stayed late to work to attend. Now, if he wanted to see some assets shaking, he should have had it at Avenue...he would have fit in lovely with their club clientele.
All in all, the evening was entertaining and I can play my complimentary Juvenile CD, and weep at the fact that there is a cut on there with Aretha Franklin. ARETHA FRANKLIN.
Have times gotten that hard, Re-Re? Well, at least she ain't on the pole. Yet.
T.
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