The toughest thing to find out is whether or not a female likes you. Especially during a party. Especially if it’s after the men with long glistening chains walk in. It’s the tell all moment. You stand taller, fix your hair, straighten your posture. Hold your drink a little higher so they know you can get your own, or make your way over to the bar and wait for the first sucker to make his move. The club is your first taste of what money can buy. No one knows how those bar tabs are being paid – advances, holiday bonuses, income tax return, but no one cares to ask. As long as you’ve got the dollars to spend, a pretty girl will lead you directly to your table. & Cranberry juice is on the house. The women gyrate a little harder. Dresses rise up a little further. Drinks reach bottom and all of a sudden they begin to wonder –who’s taking care of this? Now, the bar is packed with Burberry plaids, Gucci reds & greens and .. oh yea… diamonds. Anything the bitches a notice, for real.

         I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the kind of man who is mean to be “mine”.  If he were at a party, who would he be? Hopefully not the drunk guys in the middle of the floor, but every brotha hs his day, right? *shrugs*.  But then that would leave me off perusing the tables of men who define themselves by the monograms on their belt buckles and if he happens to think I should be impressed, I’m automatically not. Can’t say I don’t look –Interlocked G‘s and C‘s can only be matched by LV‘s –eventually all is shattered by the solitary H. At this point, though, I realize I know too much. “Yatch,” is an old word to me.  & If no one realizes how masterful my prose is, I suppose I am your Basquiat (works | wiki). In truth though, I’ll never stop creating my art, for I am far too brilliant. If I am an artist, I am more along the lines of Azzedine Alaïa (shop | wiki). Fuck being underrated. & Fuck what you might think of me.
        

      To be overlooked is always a possibility. You never know who else is in the room. Last night, I met Joy Adazé, writer & stylist (check out JoyLovesFashion.com), as well as another pretty lady who works for ESPN (we shall Facebook, soon hopefully). So, in the breif moments I felt “overlooked” I gave kudos to the other powerful women who may be in the room with me and wish them the best of luck. In… everything. With their men & their money. It’s all I can do, because when you wish ill upon someone, it’s noticeable. I don’t have the time nor patience to worry about someone else’s grind, I just make sure to grind harder. Part-Time haters are everywhere. They only love you at hello or when they’re doing alright. But, they’ll detest you when they hit a rough patch, so what out. Same goes for these men. They love you for that 10 minutes in the club, ask you for your number then move over to the other side of the party to find #2 (hopefully, you were #1. Remember, Rule #1, Never be #2). I’m thankful for this blog in shifting my attention from the waist-grabbing, thirst-buckets at the bar and onto something more beneficial. Money & people with it. Stable paper. The type that comes in on every two weeks in large amounts. They type that might be followed by promotions. At that point, I’d much rather have you offer me your business card than a drink. Having this blog has begged me to have conversation. Some people you have conversation with, and other simply stand by your side trying to think of the next thing to say to it. It’s so noticeable it’s a bit uncomfortable. Let’s talk. Let’s have lunch and talk about how to make me rich. How bout it? That is the conversation I am waiting to have. All else is a waste of breath –I could have used that elsewhere. 

        People are funny. I go into parties knowing exactly what I’ve gotten myself into. I have to prove to the men I’m there for the money (mines, not theirs –but I’ll take a drink or two), and prove to the females that whoever they’ve silently claimed for the night is not on my radar. I’ve got to do all of this while being kind —because some of you bitches have poor attitudes. & men tend to loosely translate “friendly” into “she wants me”. People are difficult to deal with. To manage. To sort out. To trust. But we need everyone else. I’m thankful for a world full of strangers because I consider it an honor to be me. There’s only one 🙂 
     Perhaps that’s why I’ve quit people. People have too many issues. Too many insecurities. We need polish for their nails, weaves for their hair, mascara for their lashes, rings for their bracelets, chains for their necks, quarter carats for their ears, fitted’s for their outfits, & bottles for the bitches. —Same song. Gets boring. I can’t say I don’t enjoy the nightlife. & I like the look of bottles on tables & diamonds in a bracelets, but there’s only one source to it all –$$$. I’m trying to find the most direct path to the money. Working for someone else isn’t cutting it. & half the things these men claim they can do, they can’t –or they’re dogs who’ve been done over by too many hoes & I simply just can’t deal. So… I want the money. Last night, they called me mean. Rude, even. Said I looked busy.  But they say that about a lot of bosses. If there’s any mold I want to fit, a boss is it.  I’m cleaning house. There aren’t enough people fit to hire. Fewer I’d want to make moves with. There aren’t enough people who deserve to be here with me. I simply don’t feel enough support, to be honest. I was naive and expected more. Poor me. But… hey. Some people hatttte. *shrugs*
      Overall, the event was a pretty good one. Like I mentioned before, it was at Celcuis & the simply idea of having partied in Bryant Park upgrades the situation — In New York, location is key. Celcius is a two-story, glass structure that overlooks the skating rink (which would have been soooo nice, I need a skating party. The guys cleaning the ice outside were enjoying DJ SNS‘s music, thoroughly). I was there early enough to enjoy the ample seating (also outdoor seating). The place has a clean cut & modern feel. I like what black-lights do to white decor. The I didn’t met any of the “high rollers” but if that’s what you’re looking for, there were plenty to throw oneself at. They were kind men, though. Not overly obnoxious or rowdy –just niggas having fun. It was a good crowd. Good male/female ratio from the start. I enjoy good people. It was a Jan 1st party, so people were dressed appropriately as they could be. The bar was my only disappointment – no Patron. All I had wanted in the world last night was some Patron Citronge & orange juice –with a cherry on bottom, of course 😉
But, if TNE (The New Era of Nightlife) (Twitter | Facebook | Website) had another event, I wouldn’t mind attending, if they’ll have a blogger back! If not, I understand lol… it’s all part of the game *shrugs* I’ll be there anyway. I do what I wanna do, if you haven’t yet noticed 😉