Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Cellar Part 2

This is in response to Old AYBEE’s comment that Part 2 of The Cellar was shut down because of censorship from old co-workers. Nope. Not likely. I bailed on the Cellar, all of a sudden I started thinking so what? Ahhhh who cares about some ex-co-workers and crap? Then Law school shit got a little thick, and then the Croc Hunter was killed, and then…I was like, do I really want to write Part 2?

But since old Fart Lighting Ex-Hippie’s are interested, let me throw together a condensed version for simmering:

Word through the grapevine was that Kenya was miffed that I had put a spotlight on her ass. However, everyone agreed that Kenya gets a lot mileage out of her ass and enjoys the attention. In fact, Kenya’s ass is her American Express Card, she don’t leave home without.

No one told Gay Danielle that I had written anything about him.

  • Ok, so my ex-boss showed up later. Her name is Anna. She has huge mammary glands. I think they’re like Hostile D Cups. They’re even bigger because of her petite Filipino frame. She showed up and started inhaling Lemon Drops. She says she wasn’t drunk, but she was squeezing Tracy’s biceps and apparently getting lap dances from the woman who ran Karaoke. Between Anna’s Ta-ta’s and Kenya’s booty, my eyes were constantly doing push-ups.
  • Karen and Gloria showed up. These are two drinking fools. They are party girls. Half-way through the evening Karen was completely sprawled out, laughing maniacally and assaulting the nachos. Gloria has a different move, the drunker she gets the more prominent her ass becomes. In every picture her ass keeps getting higher. She HUGGED the Karaoke Mama. She chose to sing, “Say You, Say Me,” by Lionel Richie. I love Lionel Richie. Yes, I’m old.
  • My Karaoke move was “Lose Yourself” by Eminem. The crowd went nuts and I succinctly rocked the mike. Why anyone denies that I am the best is beyond me. At your next block party, you might want to invite me because I will turn that mother out.
    My other co-worker Talal (yes, most people I hang with have exotic names) sang that sappy chick's song, "Words can't bring you down." Although he was terrible, he had a lot of heart. Talal is like the black Gomer Pyle.
  • There was a Corporate Skank slinging her hash all around the bar. You know the one, Crayola lipstick, spackled eye-shadow, haggard face, retrofitted breasts, and a flat ass. She was shaking her pancakes all around the bar looking for a sucker. Well after she was rebuffed by the hard-ass alkies at the bar her radar picked up Talal. I guess she was hoping that a youthful injection of African American love might remove some of her wrinkles. Anyways, she was trying to hypnotize Talal, when one of girls from our table signaled to Talal that the skank had “crabs.” He looked right at the skank and said, “I can’t dance with you no more.”
  • I left at about 10 PM b/c the drinking took a serious turn.

    Anyways, that’s the recap. Any coworkers who feel insulted, you shouldn’t be. You know me well enough, and besides, most people don’t know who you or I are. And if they do know who I am, then they might end up in the blog too.


    Medicated Bear


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