100: A down in the dumps kinda belly_achin’!!!

*rubs the belly hurt away*

*rubs the belly hurt away*

All is for naught. Why do you get caught up in these things?? The drum-roll, please….. too lost:::::::::::::: Can’t find the outside…. Stupid songs::::::::::::::: There aint no:::::::::::::::::::<3 sex, magic::::::::Fuck!!! As usual, way too rass early!!

With what you hope to be only an hour to kill…
The hour passes, what gives??!!
Oh, the waiting game….

Let us note, dat you arrived bout 10:15p &  the place was empty….
Dry, deserted, quiet – you could feel the anticipation. The few there, the behind_the_scencers, be chilling!!
[Dat is what this wallflower, bka: Fifth Business, bka: still waiting… Would rather be doing, yes doing bka: asking questions bka: tellin the stories with spirit, with knowledge and less hype::::::::::::::::::: Trying hard, to snap outta dis funk!!]

You’re still waiting for the action to begin.
[If they had listened to you, this cat and mouse game, might have turned out well. Fashion could have triumphed!!]

Where are the gunslingers??
When will the the gun battle begin?
*whistles: doo_de_dooooo de_dooooo wahh wah wah ooooley/oooooley ooooooooooohhhh wah wah wahh*


Ok, I waited & waited. Gave all eyes that glanced in my direction dirty looks; was polite as needs be.
Which was twice; one to the bartender chick and the promoter/suit/former interviewee.
Had my reputation not be smeared by this bitch, I could have been less formal. So, for my own good, kept shooting dirty looks bka: I can’t afford anymore grief tonight bka: fuck wit me n’Die!! The urge to smoke was killing me & after several failed attempts trying to find a way out – damn glass windoors!! Success!!

Ok, I lie, I was nice to the gents who gave me smokes:
‘U brave to be standin alone’
‘I thought u were Djs girl’

To which I reply:
‘Nope, nope was supposed to be doing an interview, but I guess not… ‘
“So, I decided to check this thing out…’

I am so fucking cheesed, ‘Full-well knowing’, I could’ve done the interview, Fuck!!!
Downed a Red Bull. This dancing/standing routine is hurting my fucked up foot more than it hurts already.
Downed a Gin & Tonic. Uber pissed I’m in flats, this outfit would look so much better with heels.
Downed a Gin & Tonic. I look pretty fly, though, I’m so  lovin this American Apparel dress, did I just get a call?
Yep, but I’m not mad @ this 1. Answer, look around, can’t find anyone. Are they in VIP? Nope. *sigh – Epic Fail* Are VIP sections supposed to be this tiny? Maybe, if I asked to go behind the curtain… But decide agaisnt it, not here to do an interview *grrrrrrrrr, HULK SMASH, HULK SMASH, getting calmer, for now*
Another Gin & Tonic. Continung to play where’s ‘Waldo’? Had another smoke. Finally found the fucker & the ok 1, watched fashion show. Imagining the story that I could’ve written – the swimwear was H-O-T!!! Still chompin on the bit, quelling the urge to leave. *sigh: sipping an imaginary Gin & Tonic*!!*

Hatin the r’n’b, but reggae/dancehall made me feel betta. And managing to do a good job of creating jealousy *shake_booty-shake, while da ladies keep hatin!* [Yes that’s how ladies roll, make us feel pain and either we cause more hate or start ‘beef/drama’. In this case I wasn’t my fault dem ladies were hating, it’s not the alcohol talking,I swear sorta… ] More epic pain in foot, it’s a good thing I thought to take notes and have dis plastic bag. So I squish jacket inside and it hides my bad pauses & awkward steps – since it’s strategically placed between my legs. Fuck my cinderella complex is biting hard bka: I wanna go home, this would’ve been fun, if only…!!

Da Bullshit brigade continues, oh how this vexes me, so. Chuuh!

PS Can you believe these events are based on a true story???


~ by tashpoeme on May 26, 2009.

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