Club Chronicles

So I'm rollin fresh out the club. By rollin I mean I'm ACTUALLY. But anyway....

So I went to the club and all brands of FUCKERY were before me. Let me set the scene.... I can't I don't want to name names and places. But... If you know me well enough you'll get the picture. But I was every type of inebriated. Popped one, smoked 5, drank a Lil bit.  Plus a RAMMED club with every fucking person in the city in attendance. 

I'm gonna start with the people who bother you about following them on twitter or texting them. Seriously, what makes you think NOW, at the club, when I have my fourth or fifth drink and my third or fourth spliff, rollin' on my first or second Molly, is a good time to ask me why I didn't follow you back on twitter. Seriously. Why not just... Oh, I dunno... TWEET ME?

Secondly, ladies... Seriously... And I know I'm goin to offend someone, I guess I'm sorry that you're mad but I'm not sorry for he level of truth here. I know we live in times where being edgy and unique is desirable, but some of the shit y'all be doing is just SO unnecessary. I'm seeing all types of hair styles that shouldn't be done on certain folks, others that shouldn't be on ANYONE. Not even just the styles, y'all comin with some colors too. Shawty, some shit is ONLY for white people. I have a million and one tattoos, my head is shaved I have superhellanuff piercings and shit. I've had green hair for fucks sake. And still, I would not try half the shit y'all do. There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity. A lot of y'all are habitual line steppers. Pull it back. Please. You're embarrassing every other black girl in the club with respectable hair. Seriously. Get this shit together. 

Ladies, this is for y'all AGAIN. Know your size. KNOW your size. Know YOUR size. Know your SIZE. KNOW YOUR SIZE. Holy fuck. Spandex was not made for everyone. I'm skinny as fuck with all small everything (my bum is so cute though, just take my word for it). I can't get away with everything. I don't wear things that require cleavage. Why? Cuz bitch, unless sternum became cleavage and I wasn't informed, that shit ain't cute.  You're big, so maybe a spandex catsuit isn't your best plan of action. Furthermore you and ALL your big friends are at the club and all of y'all wearing skin tight shit. You guys are HORRIBLE friends. NOT ONE OF Y'ALL could  have the sense to say "Yo, Shaneesherah... We look like the new exhibit at Marine Land." dead ass, and I'm not even trying to get at big girls, because some look like I might wanna do some pushin of that cushion, but y'all not helping y'all selves by looking' like u gon' jump off the floor to kiss my cheek while I stand on the couch in the booth. This ain't the beluga whale tank. 

Fellas take a hint of a chick don't wanna talk to you. Just let the shit go. All this persistence is annoying. The club is already not a place to take any advances from a dude serious so stop grabbing my fucking hand, or holding me around my waist and breathing all that blasphemous Grey Goose in my fucking face. I don't want your number, I don't even HAVE a pin, and you're a dirty nigga for having a struggleberry and you're dissing  cuz you assumed I had one. So in every language on earth: No. Curve. The fuck outta here. Team Hennessy. 

Don't ask me why you always see me in the club. Matter of fact I don't even like your tone. Why do you need to concern yourself with my social life? And more importantly, if you always seeing me in the club that means your punk ass is there too. So chill out kettle, stop calling me black. 

I'm not even gonna go in on everything. Cuz I'm sure there will be time to view more bullshit. 

The Articulate Bitch