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December 16, 2004

Nothing's Up

Every once in a while I have one of those days. One of those days where when someone asks me, "What's up?" I have no aswer.
"Umm. Nothing?"
"Nothing? You always have something."
"Nope. Not today."
"No junkies on the street doing crazy things?"
"Well, there was the one the fell down in the street behind my car while I was trying to parallel park. But she got up pretty quickly and I didn't hit her or anything."
"See, that's something. You've got something."
"Oh, and when I was driving by this house for sale I slowed down and some junkie hooker tried to get into my car."
There's a house for sale down the street from me. It's a pretty decent price, especially since it is a larger than most of the row houses in Baltimore - I think it's 15 feet wide instead of 12, but maybe it's only 13 - the point is it's wider, you can tell because it has three window across the front, not just two - and I drove by to look at it. It is right on the junkie intersection. Junkies are always sitting on the stoop, crowding under the awning when it rains, shooting up in its shadow in the alley, so I had never really taken a good look at it before, I'd always sort of hurried past. But this time I decided to take a better look at it. I slowed down my car and looked.
"It's longer than the other houses on the block and has a huge deck on that addition." I thought. Then, "What the fuck?" There was a junkie hooker reaching out for my door handle.
I drove off.

"Dude, that's like two good junkie stories. What do you mean nothing's up?"
"Well it's not like I'm up to anything."

Like the time when I was living in Mississippi and a friend and I decided that we need to find a bar that wasn't in a casino.
"Where the hell are the bars in this hell hole?" one of us said. Actually it could have been both of us, maybe in stereo, because we both thought the same way.
Sure, there were a lot of casinos and down near the beach there was a gift shop that sold shot glasses that read"the South will rise again" underneath confederate flags. And there was the street lined with Thai massage parlors, but where were fun places, like bars?
We hopped into my car, my mufflerless '89 Toyota Corrola with a bad radiator, and cruised the streets and back roads of Biloxi. We were about to give up when we found a shack looking place.
"That could be a bar."
There was a broken sign in front of it that advertised gumbo; at worst it could be a cheap restaurant.

It turned out to be some KKK hotspot or something.
We got to the door and were greated by a doorman in a tux. I looked over his shoulder in the place and it looked pretty swanky - well light, lots of brass, a shiny baby grand piano with another tux-clad guy playing something unfamiliar. He stopped us.
A couple came around us and the doorman let them in. I tried to follow them in but he stepped in front of me. "Are you guys together?"
"Umm. Yeah."
"You're not allowed in her then." Was what I heard as he closed the door in our faces.

Oh, together as in "together." Yeah, redneck hate-mongers don't like that. So we left and hit the casinos. We ate unto bursting, per tradition, at the $4.95 buffet and watched the cocktail waitresses walk by with their amazingly short skirts.

Wait. I really didn't do anything then either.

So, no. Nothing's up.

But tonight I'm going to happy hour at Holy Frijoles and I'll try to do something wild and crazy.

Posted by calculatoronfire at December 16, 2004 12:17 PM

Comments

Dude- You don't know me, but I just need to tell you that I am sitting at my desk with tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard at your stuff! I have a boring job at a boring place where sometimes I read random blogs in hopes of bringing some interest to my day. After reading a few of your entires, mission accomplished. So thanks, stranger.

Posted by: Lauren at December 16, 2004 02:28 PM

Lauren!
Come on. It's me -- Brian. How could you forget?

Actually, I believe you, if you're name really is Lauren.? (That's a statement question. I made up the notation just now.) I don't think I've ever met a Lauren before.
I hope. It would be really awkward if I did know a Lauren and she read this and got all angry. What could I say? I forgot?
She might get all ghetto on me, like, "Oh no you di-n't!" Because my friends often get all ghetto. Sometimes when we get together we practice the neck thing. You know the neck thing, Lauren I've never met? That is really fun to practice.

And you need to do something fun at work instead of crying.
I am really sorry to have made you cry.

Sincerly,
Stranger Brian

Posted by: brian at December 16, 2004 03:37 PM

Impressive that you've never met a Lauren, since there are about 80 billion of us floating around. And I get all ghetto pretty often. And do the neck thing too. My black friends think it's funny, which is good, because some times I get all ghetto with them and then I realize that they could think I'm being an ass and "cut" me or something.

Peace out dawg,
Lauren

Posted by: Lauren at December 16, 2004 07:34 PM

I know umpteen jens and jennifers. There must have law or something. Maybe some sort of tax break for parents that named their daughter Jennifer.
Yeah, so I know a lot of them, but I'm sorry, no Lauren. Still. Unless you count e-knowing. I guess now I e-know a Lauren (that would be you. and yes, I know it is a little forward of me, but I do know that you do the neck thing and don't want to get "cut.")

A white friend of mine did the neck thing to me last night, accompanied by the triple snap. Woah!
I knew I was in trouble then.
Her boyfriend calmed everything down by inviting me to church and giving me his waterproof bible.

Oh. Thanks for appreciating what I wrote down, Lauren that I e-know.

Brian

Posted by: brian at December 17, 2004 12:21 PM