We've reached the beginning of the end of our Toronto summer. The coming and going of Caribana signals the most hype the city sees all year, and reminds us that summer is almost over.
I didn't party heavily this year but the partying I DID do was sufficient for this post. Especially having the diversity of American visitors at the club...
Niggaz need to chill on the chains. I know Mr Shapiro is out fitting all your favourite rappers with sick vintage jewelry but that shit is not for everyone. You don't look dope like our lord and savior 2 Chainz in some fugayzi jewelry. Fugayzi anything is a big no no. So rockin something that's obviously fake... I mean... You see we're I'm going with this one. Stop embarrassing yourself and insulting our fashion intelligence. You sippin' a $6 drink all night wearin' genuine vintage Versace around your neck and wrist? Oh. Right.
I enjoyed having our southern neighbours party with us. It was rather nice to see new faces, and I even encountered a couple of my U.S. readers (Heeeeey guys!) during my drunken Sheraton lobby strolls. But I must address the thirst. Every year is the same as far as thirst expectations go, but don't rush the flow! You're here visiting for a few days, there are silly Toronto females everywhere just dying for a chance to hook up with any nigga with an accent. You don't even have to go to the club for that. So stop applying full court pressure where it's not needed. You sound desperate. Digging for pussy in a city you don't live in. Just chill, that shit will happen regardless. Believe me.
Celebrity hosted parties are a common occurrence during bana weekend. The city was full of famous folks this year, more than previous years it seemed. Celebs come to the club to turn up for a couple hours and return to their hotels with whichever females they roped in for themselves and their entourages. They're not there to chill with the masses and socialize. So stop beaking and complaining that you went to the club and didn't see nobody. That's pure foolishness. You didn't get VIP wristbands, you're not even in a booth. How easy did you think it was gonna be to meet a rock star that way? Seriously.
Ladies, I've got a beef with y'all. Why y'all always play dumb when niggaz holla at you in the club? You standing at the bar talking to a cute dude with an accent thicker than Trina at Waffle House, flipping your hair and giggling. He invites you and your friends back to his hotel with him and his friends to drink, smoke and "chill". For some strange reason, y'all convince yourselves that's all that's gonna happen. You think some dude you just met, who is leaving the country bright and early Monday morning, is gonna get drunk with you and then what? Gaze longingly into your eyes and wonder where this Canadian angel has been all his life? Bitch please. Soon as the Ciroc is done he's sending his friends to their rooms with your friends and expecting you to bust it open and pop that pussy for a real nigga. If you're not bout that life stop putting yourself in private situations with dudes you don't know. Logic sweetheart. You wouldn't do it with these dirty Toronto niggaz we all know, so why are American dudes any different?
Overall bana was good. Self Made on Sunday was a fuckin' MOVIE. Granted it was so hot you could swim through the air, but I was so drunk I loved every moment of it. See y'all next year!
The Articulate Bitch
No comments:
Post a Comment