Do you ever feel...

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Y'know how people- when they are not too intimidated- just love to come up to a lone wolf, as if to see just WTF is going on with this muthafucka that he's in the bar by himself. This happens to Bokolis all the fucking time.

I'm in the bar recently, after the fun job. The place is crawling, so just getting to the bar is an issue. The bartender knows me, so the drink is getting made before I get there. I sense some drunk bird- tall, above average looks, carrying about 15 pounds of winter weight; Bokolis wouldn't throw her out of bed, but wouldn't go out of my way to bag her, either- is eyeing me. But, I'm feigning being oblivious and not letting on. Besides, I've already noticed that she's got radar lock on another dude. Despite her advances, this dude is hanging back, waiting for it to fall into his lap rather than do anything that would fuck it up. After all, birds are just as lonely, horny and desperate as guys, but they are usually more coy. Not this one; might she be looking to trade up?

BACKGROUND: I pick the place I do because it provides an easy escape. I'm not there to bag broads. For me, it is happy hour; I've probably been working for the better part of 15 hours, so I'm looking to shovel down about 3 drinks and a shot to relax before heading home. However, it is the weekend, so the amateur revelers are out and the place is usually a little more bustling than what I'd consider optimal for my therapy.

After a bit, some space- not enough for comfort- opens up right next to her. I need my drink. I can just tell something is going to come out of her mouth when I pull up alongside. Fuck it, I'm swooping in.

I say hello to the bartender and take my drink. The bird is looking at me- first, like, howthefuck did you get there?, then, like, this guy is good-looking; I'm going to say something clever.

The song playing in the bar is Christina Aguilera's Genie in a Bottle. The video is on, too, which had me thinking, she looked good as jailbait...WTF happened?! Why does that matter, you ask. We're looking at each other, dead in the eyes, and she says, "Do you ever feel like a genie in a bottle?"

I guess I was supposed to reply with some variation of, I gotcha three wishes right here, shweetaht, oh! Or, something a bit more suave. It went through my mind, too. But, fuck that; I let out a Hah!, intentionally too loud to be cool, and walked away. I was indignant, and it got the best of me, but I felt I had the right. I mean, if the roles were reversed there, and I said that to her, she would have rolled her eyes and given a puhleez! Fuck that shit!

I'd've fucked her anyway. The real problem was that she was too drunk to perform. Given that the last bird I'd bagged up in a bar wanted the dick so bad that she tried to choke herself on me, I don't want to deal with some ain't fuckin' wit no catatonic drunk. If you remember the beer goggles post, Bokolis told you that, "if we put the average hottie on 5 drinks, with the time-release effect of alcohol, there's a good chance she will be non-functional before you get in position." I'm certain that Bokolis would've wound up walking out of her apartment because she was KTFO.

All that, just to relay that a drunk bird used a horrible pick-up line on me...and that we all need to find more birds that are willing to choke on the dick. I'll bet somebody is out there thinking, jerkoff, hit the roommate... different night, different story and I can't tell you how much shit that caused.

Nothing lasts forever

From Entertainment infographics via Ritholtz
Enjoy.

The decline came far before these graphics indicate. Because the perspective is on hits/sales, rather than street cred, it ignores that, Wu-Tang was primarily intended as a vehicle to launch the respective members' solo projects/careers.

Having expected the group to be disbanded by the time of Wu-Tang Forever and, drunk off their solo careers, tired of taking shit from RZA and no longer compelled to do so, they approached the follow-up as if it were home repairs to be done- with MTV and the label playing the nagging wife- the morning after a bender.

Wu-Tang Forever's sales are indicative of the breadth of anticipation and not of the quality of the work. I mean, fuck, you heard the output.

The shit wasn't meant to be a brand, but Wu-Tang saturated us with all manner of cross-branded products. By the time Chappelle got around to goofing on the extent of its branding endeavors, a couple of them felt compelled- they were THAT irrelevant- to take part in their own lampooning.

At the same time, hip-hop was slipping further into its Puffy-infused malaise. The Stretch Armstrong show had seen its best days. Biggie got clipped and Nas was bored, so we were resigned to idolize Jay-Z, all the while waiting for Premier to drop mixes.

So, by the time these graphics indicate that people were, like, Aw, man, WTF?!, as if the ceiling were leaking on their $100 t-shirts, Bokolis had long-sinced signed the divorce papers. Once in a while, I bring the alimony by and coax a cookie out of the ex-ol' lady, but never when Kanye is at the house.

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