Party Ain’t A Party - tia
You know it’s not a party until the cops show up and BGLU parties are no exceptions. I think that it’s safe to say you have gone too far when the cops come to tell you that they have had 3 complaints about the noise and the parking, which, by the way, is HEINOUS at our house. But the cop was nice, he only wrote one ticket, and was nice enough to knock it down to a parking violation ($10) rather than a fire lane violation ($50+). So it was all good. Once we got the cars moved we cranked the music back up and kept the party going.
Much to our dismay, neither of the Tags showed up. I’m not sure where Toya’s was and mine had to close at the restaurant where he works. After working for 8 straight on his feet and then having to close I could see why he was too whooped to come. We are having another bbq soon, as a lot of the guys we know couldn’t make it. Hopefully, the Tags will be able to make an appearance at the next function.
I have to say that I LOVE running the grill. I think I may be worse than some guys. Don’t come near my grill, unless it’s to pick up the food that I just finished cooking. I have red meat down to a science, but I need to work on my chicken. Salmonella is the ultimate party foul. And I must admit, I looked mighty cute in my apron. The caption on the photo could have read, “When Supermodels Run the Grill.”
Speaking of party fouls, with a gathering of that many people, something is bound to happen. For instance, when Courtney leaned on the light switch and accidentally turned off the light in the middle of the dominoes game. Party Foul. Or when someone bumped the turntables in the middle of “the jam.” Party Foul. Stuff happens, it’s unavoidable. But of course there is the unforgivable party foul that happens and someone is inevitably barred for life. So listed below are the people who are not invited back…and why
It’s probably our fault. Toy and I were talking CASH MONEY TRASH earlier in the evening. Since we have been dominoes partners we have only lost ONE game. And the loss didn’t really matter because we ended up winning overall. And we definitely don’t lose on home territory. That is until Derrick and KC paired up and whooped the FOOL out of us. And in our own home, no less. I mean, it was painful. I swear KC was cheating. His own daughter told me to watch him. Now granted she is only 4, but children will tell your business, so I believe her. But there is no way he should have been able to score on EVERY hand. I was just waiting for him to yell, “DOMINOE MF!!!!” and bust the table. But KC doesn’t roll all like that. He’s not the kind to drop a F-bomb. But that night he would have been well within his right to do so.
The crescendo, if you will, came when Toya and I were forced to autograph the score page and post it on the fridge. It was sort a tribute to the butt-whoppin’ we took at our own dinner table. And it was all at the hands of a white man. We can’t have nothin’no more. First Bo Derek with the cornrows and now this.
I was about 2 seconds off of revoking KC’s invitation permanently. His only saving grace is his family. His “make me what to be a better sistah” wife (y’all she is down like 4 flat tires. I’m talking dreadlocks, natural foods, and the little pouch shoulder sling thing-y to hold the kids in. I swear she could have been a Panther back in the day), his adorable little girl who was so down to color with me, and his son that is too cute for words are the only things that keep me from tellin’ that fool to never, everEverEVER come by here.
And you know what…I want a re-match. I know you’re reading this KC. We’re going to do that mess again, when Toya is not tired and when I haven’t been standing in front of an open flame for the last 4 hours. I’m not making excuses, I’m just saying. That mess doesn’t happen again. Oh, and ask your wife what happened to the salsa. It was such a “wah-waaah” moment when I went to get some the next day and found it was gone.
And I still don't like you KC....