Howard, Howard UUUUUUUU… THE REAL HU!!!!

I am thoroughly depressed. Why? Because I just left home to come home. And by the 1st ‘home’ I mean Howard, the 2nd of course being the wretched flooding wasteland called Houston. I went to DC for Howard’s Homecoming, which will always, ALWAYS be the highlight to my year for all the years I live and breathe and can still do shots of tequilla and jack daniels, lol. I was talking to a friend of mine from Atl and when I told him about my big ballin’ plans for homecoming he was mystified. The convo went something like this:

Him: You’re flying all the way back to DC just for homecoming?
Me: Uh, yeah.
Him: For what though?
Me: Um… I went to Howard. You DO know that
Him: Yeah…
Me: You have CLEARLY never been to a HU homecoming

I realize if you never went to Howard, never been to the HU Homecoming festivities, you just can’t feel me on this. And that’s fine. But please respect the fact that my homecoming is like no other. Don’t believe me? Anytime an event causes more celebrities to flock to town than the BET awards and Diddy, he of the benevolent White Party, throws an all weekend party in honor of the school who’s colors I wear? Then as the AKAs put it at the step show, “This is SERIOUS business.”

So just to recap a la wife…

Thursday: My flight is delayed by two and a half hours. TWO AND A HALF HOURS. As if I wasn’t already dead tired from working that morning, and then rushing from said work straight to the airport in rush hour traffic only to find that I needent rush at all. (Hahaha ‘needent’) So I finally get to DC (well B-more actually), and Thursday I spend getting some QT in where it really needed to be gotten in…. no, no. That’s all you get, lol.

Friday: I make it to yardfest which has to be the wackest thing ever in life with the exception of the fact that the weather is BEAUTIFUL for the first time in 4 years and Monica overwhelms me so with her hometown ghetto that I tell chicks all weekend that they’re “sideline hoes”, also known as the greatest song ever written. The Wife, me, & Arion make a quick run to Pentagon City where I purchase my very first freakum dress (in candy apple red for those of you wondering) for the evenings festivities at Love/Dream/Dandelion (whatever its called this week). After Wackfest is over, we head to the car, a silver Jeep Liberty rented just for the occasion. (Having a full time job really allows you to ball on a whole ‘nother level.) We do dinner at Lauriol Plaza, I get slightly throwed on mojitos and get to drunk texting. Can’t be too bad, I guess. Nothing exploded. We stay so long that I sober up. We rush home, I throw on my freakum dress (lol!) and we hit the door. After a slight bit of drama we hit Love/Dream/Dandelion, get inside and trying to find breathing room. It is RIDICULOUS how packed it is on ALL FOUR LEVELS. I feel like a celebrity cuz every few feet I bump into someone I know, someone who wants to see me later, wants to take a picture. (Yall know I’m on my superstar shit EARLY, lol) After awhile, I break for the bathroom. Trying to push my way through the crowd, I encounter a guy who drunkenly thinks it’ll be a good idea to not only fondle my breasts but to pull my dress down. Did I mention I wasn’t wearing a bra? So he exposed to me to the club. So… I punched him in his face. I think I mighta cut him with my ring cuz I got a lil blood when I came back. Yes, I punched him. All 5 foot 3 of me. The crowd starts to push so they carry me away from him as I’m determined to make my way back to him because at this point I’ve decided that I’m gonna fight him. And not just fight him, but I’m gonna beat his ass so bad that they’re going to throw me out and ban me from even turning down Okie Street again. Because, yes ladies and gentleman, as much as she hates to admit it, sometimes La CAN be THAT ghetto. Eventually I give up and wind up downstairs with the wife, shoes off, and angrily staring at the floor contemplating the AUDACITY OF THIS HOE NIGGA. A cutie from New York buys me a bottle of water and I’d like to at least be cordial but between my anger and my ah ha! moment (I’ll get into that in another post) I just couldn’t fit it. So I played the kinda shy role so he wouldn’t be put off and feel offended, thanked him for the Voss, sent a text message and turned to play in my wife’s hair. Later we left and I dropped off the folks that had ridden with us, then headed back to the apartment, showered the DC nigga filth off me and spent a lil while talking to J, who never fails to make me smile when I need it. I figure I’ll sleep and hopefully with all we have planned tomorrow, it’ll be better cuz tonight has been officially ruined for me…

(to be continued…)

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