Monday, February 23, 2009
Summer
I spent this past weekend visiting my buddy WillisB in Phoenix. 5 Mile and Bubs also made the trip down, so we had a full wrecking crew. On Saturday night, we were at place called the Sandbar, and it was pretty jamming. Like any place that has a packed house there were a fair share of good looking people as well as a decent amount of fatties. At one point in the night two of these fatties barrel up to the bar and push me out of their way so they can order a drink. These girls were short and squat, both pushing two bills easy. 5 Mile sees this happen and looks at me, his eyes wide open in shock and asks "Can you believe that shit?"
I responded with a shrug of my shoulders, "At least I'm not stuck talking with her."
And then one of the girls in the group we were hanging out with decides to push me in to the fat girl next to me. I turn to the lady and immediately apologize explaining that I had said something sassy to a girl and that she had pushed me into her. I then said sorry again and went to turn away.
The lady grabbed me by the arm to stop me, because she had something she wanted to tell me: "You know fat girls like me get hit on more often than skinny ones do."
I just stared back at her. "Oh. Okay." I tried to turn to go again, but again she stopped me.
"You know my little 3-year-old girl looks just like Michele Tanner from 'Family Matters.'"
I tell her that Michel Tanner wasn't in "Family Matters" and that she probably means Urkel. She repeats that her kid looks like Michele Tanner from "Family Matters." Bill and 5 ask to see a picture, so that they can drag this out as long as possible.
I tell her again that she is mistaken and that her kid probably looks like Urkel.
"My kid doesn't look like fucking Urkel, alright?" she yells.
"What do you have against Urkel," I joke back. "Do you hate black people or something?"
"My kid is black."
Of course she is. Why wouldn't this conversation become more awkward?
I felt so stupid. I never knew that Danny Tanner's dead wife was black and that Michele Tanner was half-black. Before I could apologize, the lady continued.
"And my kid is going to be the next Beyonce, so I'm not going to have to work no more."
I was at a loss for words. I apologized again for bumping into her and told her that I hoped she would enjoy her night. But she wasn't done. And neither were the rest of my friends, who were enjoying the weirdness of this conversation too much to let it end. 5 Mile asks what her name is. She answers "Summer," and turns back to me. It's like she wants to make me jealous of her and her life.
"Do you know what Summer even means," she asks me.
"Um, the opposite of winter?" I reply. At this point I'm ready to jump off of a bridge to avoid this whack job. She ends up telling me what she thinks it means (which I forget, because I didn't care), then goes back to bragging about her kids. We then had this exchange:
Summer: My other baby's daddy used to be a model for Calvin Klein, so my 10 year-old boy is gonna be a big time model too, so I'm gonna be rich.
Me: Awesome.
Summer: But he's a midget.
She isn't joking.
Me: You call your son a midget? Like to his face? Don't you think that's mean?
Summer: Well, he is a midget!
Me: I know, but that's not really nice to keep calling him one.
Summer: He don't care. 'Cause he's an underwear model.
5 Mile: Really? So am I!
Summer: No, he actually models underwear.
5 Mile: So do I. I just modeled mine for the 15 girls waiting in line for the bathroom!
Summer: No, but he is for real. Do you want to see pictures?
Me: No, I don't think I need to be seen in public looking at pictures of 10-year-old boys in their underwear.
Summer: You know I could've modeled. I used to be 110 pounds.
Me: Well, I used to be in the 5th grade. Things change.
Before she could reply, I left her with 5 Mile. I think 5 Mile ended up making out with her. Or leaving shortly after me. I can't remember.
I responded with a shrug of my shoulders, "At least I'm not stuck talking with her."
And then one of the girls in the group we were hanging out with decides to push me in to the fat girl next to me. I turn to the lady and immediately apologize explaining that I had said something sassy to a girl and that she had pushed me into her. I then said sorry again and went to turn away.
The lady grabbed me by the arm to stop me, because she had something she wanted to tell me: "You know fat girls like me get hit on more often than skinny ones do."
I just stared back at her. "Oh. Okay." I tried to turn to go again, but again she stopped me.
"You know my little 3-year-old girl looks just like Michele Tanner from 'Family Matters.'"
I tell her that Michel Tanner wasn't in "Family Matters" and that she probably means Urkel. She repeats that her kid looks like Michele Tanner from "Family Matters." Bill and 5 ask to see a picture, so that they can drag this out as long as possible.
I tell her again that she is mistaken and that her kid probably looks like Urkel.
"My kid doesn't look like fucking Urkel, alright?" she yells.
"What do you have against Urkel," I joke back. "Do you hate black people or something?"
"My kid is black."
Of course she is. Why wouldn't this conversation become more awkward?
I felt so stupid. I never knew that Danny Tanner's dead wife was black and that Michele Tanner was half-black. Before I could apologize, the lady continued.
"And my kid is going to be the next Beyonce, so I'm not going to have to work no more."
I was at a loss for words. I apologized again for bumping into her and told her that I hoped she would enjoy her night. But she wasn't done. And neither were the rest of my friends, who were enjoying the weirdness of this conversation too much to let it end. 5 Mile asks what her name is. She answers "Summer," and turns back to me. It's like she wants to make me jealous of her and her life.
"Do you know what Summer even means," she asks me.
"Um, the opposite of winter?" I reply. At this point I'm ready to jump off of a bridge to avoid this whack job. She ends up telling me what she thinks it means (which I forget, because I didn't care), then goes back to bragging about her kids. We then had this exchange:
Summer: My other baby's daddy used to be a model for Calvin Klein, so my 10 year-old boy is gonna be a big time model too, so I'm gonna be rich.
Me: Awesome.
Summer: But he's a midget.
She isn't joking.
Me: You call your son a midget? Like to his face? Don't you think that's mean?
Summer: Well, he is a midget!
Me: I know, but that's not really nice to keep calling him one.
Summer: He don't care. 'Cause he's an underwear model.
5 Mile: Really? So am I!
Summer: No, he actually models underwear.
5 Mile: So do I. I just modeled mine for the 15 girls waiting in line for the bathroom!
Summer: No, but he is for real. Do you want to see pictures?
Me: No, I don't think I need to be seen in public looking at pictures of 10-year-old boys in their underwear.
Summer: You know I could've modeled. I used to be 110 pounds.
Me: Well, I used to be in the 5th grade. Things change.
Before she could reply, I left her with 5 Mile. I think 5 Mile ended up making out with her. Or leaving shortly after me. I can't remember.
