Yeah. This is part 2. There was like part 1 a few hours ago. Im full blogging mode. Oww.

Okay. So I woke up Saturday, um…well…dying.

Anytime you don’t remember part of your evening, in my experience, you probably know that you don’t feel too hot the very next day. And I did NOT feel very good the next day. No, thats an understatement. I wanted to die. I crawled from the living room(because i crashed at Fahnons) to the kitchen and instead of drinking water from a glass, i just cut the water full blast and pretended I was at a johny pump and stuck my head into the water and drank for dear life.

Then I fell back to the floor.

Crawled some more. Went to the bathroom and got some tylenol.

Then I fell back to the floor.

So I went back to sleep. Woke up to the door bell ringing violently. It was Mr. Bennetts lady friend. It took a lot of effort to not tackle her. She was the cause of a new incredible headache but I figured that Fahnon wouldn’t particullarly care for that. So at this point I was officially up. Got a text message from Dre, ex-bartendar of Ripple and beloved of Syron(Ripples Owner) Syron was gonna have a surprise birthday party. I was like ‘Yay, thats great…er…im dying.’

Fast forward like 11 hours of watching Dr. Who, Black.White, Very Bad things, and a bunch of other shit.

Eventually I passed out because I was never fully awake. So did Fahnon, So Did Fahnons lady friend. But about 1am I get a loud negro shaking me saying ‘Come on, lets go.’

Very rarely is my natural response to somone bothering me to pimp slap them. I was only 2 seconds from pimp slapping Fahnon but I realized that he was just doing what he thought I wanted to do. I did NOT want to get up though. I was exhausted. I was still partially drunk. Leave me alone you bitch.

He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Then Marlon Hunter gets on the phone and starts repremanding me. We have to go to Syrons party. My response ‘I agree, if we left 4 hours ago muthafucka!’

Eventually water is thrown on me, and I finally get up and get to the party at The Triple Crown over in Williamsburg.

Great party. Everyone from the old Ripple bar was there. So many hugs and handshakes it was ridiculous. Can’t complain in the least. I was gratefull to be there.

Fahnon then points out an attractive lady. A slightly disturbingly attractive lady. Not because she was just so gorgeous, it was that, well, she was kinda slutted up. Cleavege all out, pants painted on, you know. Really advertising the goods. Somehow Fahnon ends up talking to Sluty McSluttersons friend and tells me to talk to her. I say some silly comment about her dropping it as if it were luke warm and she laughs, cause…well…its funny. She then notices my shirt that has in big block letters:

Brooklyn Cocaine Company.

If you read this blog you might have read a specific blog where I announced my entry into the drug business. Rebranding my beloved comedy crew into a slick coacaine outfit. My beloved read it and actually got me the shirt with my new brand on it. I’ve worn it waaaay too much as of recently.

So Ms. Slutterson starts touching my chest and giggling about what it says. I’m like ‘Yes. Its my company. We handle shit.’

She’s still giggling.

Fahnons all like ‘Heh, you like that eh?’

She giggles a little harder.

She’s not even really making sense now. Too much giggling. I felt a tad uncomfortable at this point. So I try to chnage the subject. So I throw out

‘So are you here for the Party?’

She’s like ‘Im always here for the PARTY! All the time, anywhere.’

I immediately remember that amongst the Coke-erati that ‘To Party’ means to get coked up. I hadn’t meant getting coked up. I really did mean was she there for Syrons party. I litterally just laugh uncomfortably and moon walk away from the girl(they were playing Michael Jackson)

More fun was had. I was sober. Which made the fun actually rememberable. I was one of the few sober. Although, I did drop it as if it where hot on a few people for no apparent reason. Just cause it was fun to see there reaction. We decide that maybe we should go to Sin Sin to see what was going on there for the last half hour. And by we, I mean I said ‘Hey, we should go to Sin Sin to see whats going on for the last half hour.’ Marlon teleported to his coat and we were out. Fahnon says by to Ms. Slutterson and I say by as well. He mentions the coke AGAIN and she gets all weird and starts staring at me and shit and I gave the only response I knew how.

‘Ahem, indeed.’

And I was out.

We told Marlon what was happening with the girl and his only response was

‘See, thats why you always have Coke on you in Brooklyn.’

What?

We then head to Sin Sin. Kevin, the bartendar/part-owner of Sin Sin starts laughing upon seeing me and asking me how much have I been drinking. I tell him I’m sober and he’s like ‘Yeah fucking right.’ Then i hear tales of disco ball spinning and yelling and dancing. Then Lizzette, another bartendar shows up, looks at her clock and says ’so your obviously fucked up!’

I’m starting to gain a reputation.

Then she and Kevin start reminicing about how they gave me a bunch of alcohol and what happened there after ‘He was carried out’ ‘He woke up in a train station’ blah blah blah. Yes, shut up people I’m aware of my incidents.

We go to the diner that we went to the night before where they start telling me more stories of loud me, and in the midst of it a waitress walks by us and says ‘Oh, much better than from yesterday. I blushed. Well, as much as a black person can blush. We return to Marlons..er..Marlon’s moms Mercedes Benz and we past by a group of intoxicated girls. I know this because when we were in Sin Sin one fell down. Twice. So of course Marlons Drunken whore sense is tingling. When the girls finally get in their car Marlon drives right up next to them. I lay down in the back cause I dont want to be seen right now. The drunkest of the crew starts yelling outside of her window “Nice C-Class.” She was reffering to The car’s model. Marlon of course was like ‘Yes, shallow and drunk.’

I kinda zone out at this point. We somehow end up at a gas station with them. They’re going to breakfast in queens and Marlons like ‘We’ll follow you.’ Me and Fahnon both VETO his choice and we leave.

SoI say all of this to say this. My G/F should not leave me home alone.

Indeed.

Oh, one more pic of drunk Elon.

Okay. Maybe one more

Yup. Shouldn’t leave him. He’s obviously destraught. “Where o where is my beloved?”

Yup. Thats its.

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