Clay's LOLBoom
January/28/2009 12:22 AM Filed in: LOLBoom
Clay knows about a lot more “I’m bored at work, what do I do now?” sites than I do. One day he told me about something called “LOLCat.” Basically they just put captions on funny photo’s of cats and people love it.
So, Clay decided he could do the same with popular photos here on TMRB. The difference being that he would have a boom tho related caption on his photos. He decided to call it “LOLBoom.”
He’s gonna update this a few times a week, if not more, so check back. Here’s the first couple:
So, Clay decided he could do the same with popular photos here on TMRB. The difference being that he would have a boom tho related caption on his photos. He decided to call it “LOLBoom.”
He’s gonna update this a few times a week, if not more, so check back. Here’s the first couple:
|
I Don't do "Dress Code"
January/23/2009 05:16 PM Filed in: Random
The day of the Emerald Bowl, Cal’s bowl game against Miami, all of my friends and I had grand plans for the day. We were going to wake up early, buy our tickets, support the bears, etc. The game started at 5pm so we figured we would head down to Momo’s at around noon to meet up with Prelle, Conor, and Chase for a full afternoon of tailgating.
At around 3PM, I finally made it over to Clay’s house and he was still asleep. So much for those plans. Grabbed some food and some drinks and decided to meet up with JGant who was at Dayo’s apartment (try to keep up) which was right by Momo’s which was where the other guys had been all day.
As we got dressed to get ready to leave, Clay put on his Cal sweatshirt and some jeans and whatever, figuring that he would come back to his apt before he went out later that night. I put on my New Jersey Nets sweats (I wear em all the time), a boom tho shirt, and my trusty Stewie Griffin slippers. When Clay questioned the slippers I, under the influence of some pre-tailgating, told him that I would not, under any circumstance, go anywhere or do anything else for the rest of the night WITHOUT my Stewie Slippers. Of course he had more questions and concerns, mainly regarding our after-party choices and the dress codes that coincide. (I also had on my favorite beanie -- not dress code friendly:
)
I told Clay that I knew the risks and that I didn’t care. He then said a statement that made me believe in myself even more.
“Well,” he admitted, “if anyone can pull it off, you can.”
We hopped a cab and headed down to meet JGant. He and seven other people were inside of Dayo’s apartment, while Dayo was at the game. That still makes no sense to me.
Everyone immediately questioned the shirt, then the beanie, then the slippers. I knew it was about to be a glorious evening. The tailgate was really no tailgate at al. It was just us watching the Cal domination from Dayo’s living room.
Towards the end of the game, it was time to head to Momo’s to meet the rest of the guys. It would be the Stewie slippers’ first test. Could I get into a decent restaurant/bar dressed like a comedian who was ready for bed? We were about to find out.
I walked right up to the bouncer, who didn’t notice my slips, dapped him up, and walked in. JGant and Clay seemed a bit shocked, but it wasn’t like Momo’s had a dress code, so they rolled with it.
After a few hours there, partying it up, I spotted my boys from EA Sports. Gary wanted to go to some other bar and meet up with some people in north beach, so I left with him to head over there and party some more. I got into that bar with no issues either. It was beginning to seem like I might be able to keep this streak alive all night and party w Stewie slippers on like I had vowed to earlier that afternoon.
When Gary called it a night, it was about 10:30PM. I was out by Clayton’s house, but Clayton was at Fluid with JGant and Cedric. It was now officially time to see if I was indeed the one who could “pull it off.” What you need to understand is that everywhere I went that day, people immediately noticed the slippers and were LOVING them. So theyweren’t exactly inconspicuous. The were actually a conversation starter (and the beanie) whenever I bumped into someone I didn’t know. You also need to understand that fluid is a real club with a real dress code, a line, and MANY bouncers, who have shut me down for wearing a hat before. It was about to get interesting.
I stepped out of the cab in front of Fluid. The line was average size, but I never wait in line there anyway (Ha, trust me, I’m not big time). I usually talk to my boy Big Matt out front and he lets me right in. I didn’t see Matt that night, but I did see the other guy who claims he can dunk on me, but usually lets me right in as well.
I walk up behind a group of people who have just paid for VIP bottle service. When I say behind, I mean RIGHT behind them. I actually went up so close, that there was no way my feet could be seen. My face, however, was easily visible, and the bouncer said I was cool to go in -- as long as I took the beanie off. Deal. I loitered a bit so that I could stay amongst the group and hide my feet.
When we all got in, they went right and I went left and found my boys. Clay couldn’t believe it. Heck, I couldn’t believe it. I was wearing big, floppy, red and yellow Family Guy slippers, blue sweats with 3 stripes all the way down the side, and a boom tho shirt inside of my favorite club. There was only one thing left to do: dance.
Clay and I went on an incredible dancing tear. Due to the super long “pre-party,” the whole thing is a little fuzzy in my mind, but the memory of fun remains very clear. Like all good things, however, it had to come to an end.
Clay told me that someone was hating, but I couldn’t see who, and I didn’t care. I was enjoying myself too much. All of a sudden, a VIP hostess and a bouncer were all up in my grill. My night in fluid was done. I had no regrets. It was my time to leave. Clay came right on with me as we re-grouped and made plans about our next spot. We would see the VIP hostess again a few days later at the Starlight Room and she informed us that the guys in her section got angry when they saw my slippers, because one of their boys wasn’t allowed in due to his faulty shoe game. Fair enough I guess.
We decided to head over to the marina and try our luck there. The marina is a place where there are a lot of bars without specific dress code rules, so we figured we would be alright. We headed over to Circa, which wasn’t the smartest move because they have a dress code and multiple bouncers outside. The line was also very, very long. The only reason we went is because I had some very strong persuasion by a member of the opposite sex.
So here we are, standing outside trying to strategize a way inside without waiting in line and without allowing them to notice my slippers. After strategizing for about 15 minutes, the girls came out and talked to the bouncer. Clutch play. We got right in, but with the condition that I had to take the beanie off again. Grrr. Still, there was no mention of the slippers, so once again there was a slippers, so I was still batting 1,000 for the night.
Clay and I kept dancing until it was time to go. If there was one downside about wearing the slippers it was that people kept wanting to step on them to see how puffy they were, or kick Stewie in the face, or put their high heels in his eye. I don’t understand what prompted that response, but I assume it was 75% alcohol related and 25% not knowing how to react to seeing someone wear those out on a random Saturday night.
Regardless, I had done the seemingly impossible. I had worn an outfit completely against all dress code rules from 3PM until 3AM. 12 hours of strict boom-tho-ness. I guess it’s true, if anyone could pull it off, it would be me.
At around 3PM, I finally made it over to Clay’s house and he was still asleep. So much for those plans. Grabbed some food and some drinks and decided to meet up with JGant who was at Dayo’s apartment (try to keep up) which was right by Momo’s which was where the other guys had been all day.
As we got dressed to get ready to leave, Clay put on his Cal sweatshirt and some jeans and whatever, figuring that he would come back to his apt before he went out later that night. I put on my New Jersey Nets sweats (I wear em all the time), a boom tho shirt, and my trusty Stewie Griffin slippers. When Clay questioned the slippers I, under the influence of some pre-tailgating, told him that I would not, under any circumstance, go anywhere or do anything else for the rest of the night WITHOUT my Stewie Slippers. Of course he had more questions and concerns, mainly regarding our after-party choices and the dress codes that coincide. (I also had on my favorite beanie -- not dress code friendly:
)
I told Clay that I knew the risks and that I didn’t care. He then said a statement that made me believe in myself even more.
“Well,” he admitted, “if anyone can pull it off, you can.”
We hopped a cab and headed down to meet JGant. He and seven other people were inside of Dayo’s apartment, while Dayo was at the game. That still makes no sense to me.
Everyone immediately questioned the shirt, then the beanie, then the slippers. I knew it was about to be a glorious evening. The tailgate was really no tailgate at al. It was just us watching the Cal domination from Dayo’s living room.
Towards the end of the game, it was time to head to Momo’s to meet the rest of the guys. It would be the Stewie slippers’ first test. Could I get into a decent restaurant/bar dressed like a comedian who was ready for bed? We were about to find out.
I walked right up to the bouncer, who didn’t notice my slips, dapped him up, and walked in. JGant and Clay seemed a bit shocked, but it wasn’t like Momo’s had a dress code, so they rolled with it.
After a few hours there, partying it up, I spotted my boys from EA Sports. Gary wanted to go to some other bar and meet up with some people in north beach, so I left with him to head over there and party some more. I got into that bar with no issues either. It was beginning to seem like I might be able to keep this streak alive all night and party w Stewie slippers on like I had vowed to earlier that afternoon.
When Gary called it a night, it was about 10:30PM. I was out by Clayton’s house, but Clayton was at Fluid with JGant and Cedric. It was now officially time to see if I was indeed the one who could “pull it off.” What you need to understand is that everywhere I went that day, people immediately noticed the slippers and were LOVING them. So theyweren’t exactly inconspicuous. The were actually a conversation starter (and the beanie) whenever I bumped into someone I didn’t know. You also need to understand that fluid is a real club with a real dress code, a line, and MANY bouncers, who have shut me down for wearing a hat before. It was about to get interesting.
I stepped out of the cab in front of Fluid. The line was average size, but I never wait in line there anyway (Ha, trust me, I’m not big time). I usually talk to my boy Big Matt out front and he lets me right in. I didn’t see Matt that night, but I did see the other guy who claims he can dunk on me, but usually lets me right in as well.
I walk up behind a group of people who have just paid for VIP bottle service. When I say behind, I mean RIGHT behind them. I actually went up so close, that there was no way my feet could be seen. My face, however, was easily visible, and the bouncer said I was cool to go in -- as long as I took the beanie off. Deal. I loitered a bit so that I could stay amongst the group and hide my feet.
When we all got in, they went right and I went left and found my boys. Clay couldn’t believe it. Heck, I couldn’t believe it. I was wearing big, floppy, red and yellow Family Guy slippers, blue sweats with 3 stripes all the way down the side, and a boom tho shirt inside of my favorite club. There was only one thing left to do: dance.
Clay and I went on an incredible dancing tear. Due to the super long “pre-party,” the whole thing is a little fuzzy in my mind, but the memory of fun remains very clear. Like all good things, however, it had to come to an end.
Clay told me that someone was hating, but I couldn’t see who, and I didn’t care. I was enjoying myself too much. All of a sudden, a VIP hostess and a bouncer were all up in my grill. My night in fluid was done. I had no regrets. It was my time to leave. Clay came right on with me as we re-grouped and made plans about our next spot. We would see the VIP hostess again a few days later at the Starlight Room and she informed us that the guys in her section got angry when they saw my slippers, because one of their boys wasn’t allowed in due to his faulty shoe game. Fair enough I guess.
We decided to head over to the marina and try our luck there. The marina is a place where there are a lot of bars without specific dress code rules, so we figured we would be alright. We headed over to Circa, which wasn’t the smartest move because they have a dress code and multiple bouncers outside. The line was also very, very long. The only reason we went is because I had some very strong persuasion by a member of the opposite sex.
So here we are, standing outside trying to strategize a way inside without waiting in line and without allowing them to notice my slippers. After strategizing for about 15 minutes, the girls came out and talked to the bouncer. Clutch play. We got right in, but with the condition that I had to take the beanie off again. Grrr. Still, there was no mention of the slippers, so once again there was a slippers, so I was still batting 1,000 for the night.
Clay and I kept dancing until it was time to go. If there was one downside about wearing the slippers it was that people kept wanting to step on them to see how puffy they were, or kick Stewie in the face, or put their high heels in his eye. I don’t understand what prompted that response, but I assume it was 75% alcohol related and 25% not knowing how to react to seeing someone wear those out on a random Saturday night.
Regardless, I had done the seemingly impossible. I had worn an outfit completely against all dress code rules from 3PM until 3AM. 12 hours of strict boom-tho-ness. I guess it’s true, if anyone could pull it off, it would be me.
Don't Urinate on the Stock Room Floor!
January/13/2009 08:00 PM Filed in: Random
On the Monday before Christmas, I was in San Francisco chillin with my boy Clay. He wanted to go check out a bar in the Marina called “Gravity.” So, I rolled with him down the this bar and it had a huge line that the bouncers were holding (effin bouncers holding effin lines). I hate when that happens, so I suggested we go next door to Jones and wait there until the line died down or until they started letting people in.
We walked into Jones and sat down and there was just the bartender and a couple of girls at the bar. Clay’s a lightweight, so it didnt take much more than a couple Patron shots and a mixed drink to get him feeling frisky right off the bat.
We were enjoying ourselves and our impromptu pre-party when a group of five young women walked in and sat at the bar also. Now it’s me, Clay, and seven women at this bar. That’s when the fun started.
Clay has a BIG thing for Asian women and one of the girls just happened to be Asian, so he was zoned in. I started watching Clay, who was staring down the Asian girl, who was too drunk to comprehend anything at all.
To be honest, her whole crew was RIDICULOUSLY drunk. I couldn’t tell immediately, but Clay must have had his drunk-dar on high reception, because he seemed to hone in on the group and their actions. He was watching as they climbed over the bar and made their own drinks. He was watching when they fell out of their stools and chairs, laughing the way that drunk college girls tend to laugh when even they realize how drunk they are.
All of a sudden, Clay made his move. He yelled out, to all seven women at once: “who wants to do body shots?!”
I, personally, thought he was being ridiculous and that they would call both of us creepers since we were the only two men in there. Instead they started cheering. Clay started to unbutton his shirt as he stood up. I couldn’t believe it was really going to go down like this. In fact, all the girls were cheering on the Asian girl to let Clay take the body shots off of her. She was a little hesitant though and took her sweet time deciding if she wanted to go through with it. All the while, Clay was looking around, shirt unbuttoned, asking people “so, are we gonna do this or what?”
After about ten minutes of what basically amounted to the girl getting even more drunk, drunk enough to have no control over her decisions, she agreed to let Clayton take his body shot. With all her girls cheering, she laid down on the bar. Clay was handed a cup full of Patron (yea, a cup, not a shot) from which he then poured a small amount onto her stomach. He leaned in and hit the shot. Someone then shouted “do another one,” so he did. The girl didn’t move or seem to care, so he went on to do six more. The whole scene was pretty ridiculous.
Clay sat back down next to me (I hadn’t moved) and let the alcohol sit it. He was now drunk. The girls were still doing shots and getting more drunk. I was laughing at everyone and everything because it was quite funny. Seriously, the girl to my left started singing “Silent Night.” Like REALLY singing it like she was in the choir. The girl to her left started talking to Clay. Although I didn’t catch much, I did catch a phone number exchange and I SWEAR she said (cover your eyes if you don’t like Rated R): “c*m on my face!” I still have no clue as to why. I was the only sober person in the building besides the bartender.
All of a sudden, Clay gets down on the ground and starts ding push-ups. I gave him a look that said: “you gotta be kidding me,” but it was pretty funny. It got funnier when all the girls got down on the floor and they had a push-up contest. I guess alcohol gave them all extra chest muscle or something, because the all did upwards of 30 push-ups each.
They were still debating who did the most push-ups when somebody yelled out “hey! Everybody get the f*^k out! Bar’s closed!”
It was the bartender, and he had the asian girl thrown over his shoulder like a wet beach towel. I didn’t even notice she was gone from her friends who were doing push ups and arguing for the past 20 minutes. Everyone then turns and looks at the bartender, who is livid.
“Everyone’s got to go, I caught this girl, pants down, pissing on my stock room floor. Get her out of here and go home.”
Her pants did look like she may have missed the floor a little bit. That’s when Clay and I took our cues and left. Clay tried Facebooking all of the girls before he went to bed, but as far as I know, none of them have accepted. Cold blooded. He’ll always have his body shots though
We walked into Jones and sat down and there was just the bartender and a couple of girls at the bar. Clay’s a lightweight, so it didnt take much more than a couple Patron shots and a mixed drink to get him feeling frisky right off the bat.
We were enjoying ourselves and our impromptu pre-party when a group of five young women walked in and sat at the bar also. Now it’s me, Clay, and seven women at this bar. That’s when the fun started.
Clay has a BIG thing for Asian women and one of the girls just happened to be Asian, so he was zoned in. I started watching Clay, who was staring down the Asian girl, who was too drunk to comprehend anything at all.
To be honest, her whole crew was RIDICULOUSLY drunk. I couldn’t tell immediately, but Clay must have had his drunk-dar on high reception, because he seemed to hone in on the group and their actions. He was watching as they climbed over the bar and made their own drinks. He was watching when they fell out of their stools and chairs, laughing the way that drunk college girls tend to laugh when even they realize how drunk they are.
All of a sudden, Clay made his move. He yelled out, to all seven women at once: “who wants to do body shots?!”
I, personally, thought he was being ridiculous and that they would call both of us creepers since we were the only two men in there. Instead they started cheering. Clay started to unbutton his shirt as he stood up. I couldn’t believe it was really going to go down like this. In fact, all the girls were cheering on the Asian girl to let Clay take the body shots off of her. She was a little hesitant though and took her sweet time deciding if she wanted to go through with it. All the while, Clay was looking around, shirt unbuttoned, asking people “so, are we gonna do this or what?”
After about ten minutes of what basically amounted to the girl getting even more drunk, drunk enough to have no control over her decisions, she agreed to let Clayton take his body shot. With all her girls cheering, she laid down on the bar. Clay was handed a cup full of Patron (yea, a cup, not a shot) from which he then poured a small amount onto her stomach. He leaned in and hit the shot. Someone then shouted “do another one,” so he did. The girl didn’t move or seem to care, so he went on to do six more. The whole scene was pretty ridiculous.
Clay sat back down next to me (I hadn’t moved) and let the alcohol sit it. He was now drunk. The girls were still doing shots and getting more drunk. I was laughing at everyone and everything because it was quite funny. Seriously, the girl to my left started singing “Silent Night.” Like REALLY singing it like she was in the choir. The girl to her left started talking to Clay. Although I didn’t catch much, I did catch a phone number exchange and I SWEAR she said (cover your eyes if you don’t like Rated R): “c*m on my face!” I still have no clue as to why. I was the only sober person in the building besides the bartender.
All of a sudden, Clay gets down on the ground and starts ding push-ups. I gave him a look that said: “you gotta be kidding me,” but it was pretty funny. It got funnier when all the girls got down on the floor and they had a push-up contest. I guess alcohol gave them all extra chest muscle or something, because the all did upwards of 30 push-ups each.
They were still debating who did the most push-ups when somebody yelled out “hey! Everybody get the f*^k out! Bar’s closed!”
It was the bartender, and he had the asian girl thrown over his shoulder like a wet beach towel. I didn’t even notice she was gone from her friends who were doing push ups and arguing for the past 20 minutes. Everyone then turns and looks at the bartender, who is livid.
“Everyone’s got to go, I caught this girl, pants down, pissing on my stock room floor. Get her out of here and go home.”
Her pants did look like she may have missed the floor a little bit. That’s when Clay and I took our cues and left. Clay tried Facebooking all of the girls before he went to bed, but as far as I know, none of them have accepted. Cold blooded. He’ll always have his body shots though
My Blessings
January/13/2009 07:59 PM Filed in: Random
The other day I got an e-mail that made me laugh out loud. I get a lot of boom tho related e-mail, and 99.99% of it is really cool, great stuff from good people. Then I got this:
Your Name: alex blakeney
Your Email: alexblakeney@yahoo.com
Subject: give it up
Message: give it up Rod. you are not that good. you should have stayed in europe. how much do you want to bet that you never make it to the NBA this year? $50, $100, $500, $1000? you got no game
I got this while I was at the D-League showcase and I was surrounded by other ballers and officials. We laughed, hard, then they told me that I had to respond, so I did:
Alex,
Thanks for your constructive input. I will strongly consider the questions posed.
Keep supporting the movement!
Rod
I went on about my day.
The next day, I got another response:
I was once again surrounded by other players, including my boy (and soon to be blogging here on TMRB) Coleman Collins who said this guy was ridiculous, a hater, and stupid. To quote Coleman:
“What does this guy think you’re gonna just go quit basketball today because he sent you this message? What does he expect to come out of this? Idiot.”
Coleman is a smart guy who has a point, but the e-mail did kind of get me to thinking. See, as cool as it would be to get called up this season, I’ve been here before and I haven’t. So what if I don’t? Did I waste my time? The answer, clearly, is no. Here’s why:
-- I spent 4 months in France and made more tax free money than every one of my friends, and most of the American public.
-- I haven’t payed rent since college.
-- I work for a few hours a day and spend the rest being creative.
-- I get to travel the country, and the globe, and get paid to do it.
-- My job is FUN.
-- I can go back to Europe in a heartbeat and make big money for the rest of my days. I made enough this year to where I feel comfortable chillin for a bit.
Those, among other reasons clearly indicate that playing hoops, at any level, is one of the best jobs there is. I’ll bet $50, $100, $500 on that! I, and every person I play with, am blessed to be able bodied and skilled enough to do it. So, I actually thank Mr. Blakeney for helping me to remind me of why I do it. 2009 is gonna be huge, I can feel it! In other words: “my horn can pierce the sky!”
Your Name: alex blakeney
Your Email: alexblakeney@yahoo.com
Subject: give it up
Message: give it up Rod. you are not that good. you should have stayed in europe. how much do you want to bet that you never make it to the NBA this year? $50, $100, $500, $1000? you got no game
I got this while I was at the D-League showcase and I was surrounded by other ballers and officials. We laughed, hard, then they told me that I had to respond, so I did:
Alex,
Thanks for your constructive input. I will strongly consider the questions posed.
Keep supporting the movement!
Rod
I went on about my day.
The next day, I got another response:
| face it, you had one good year at Cal, the other 3 were sub par at best. I guess it is hard for me to see an otherwise mulit- talented individual waste good years on pursuing something that is not feasible. sorry bro, sometimes you need to let the dream go and get on with your life. |
“What does this guy think you’re gonna just go quit basketball today because he sent you this message? What does he expect to come out of this? Idiot.”
Coleman is a smart guy who has a point, but the e-mail did kind of get me to thinking. See, as cool as it would be to get called up this season, I’ve been here before and I haven’t. So what if I don’t? Did I waste my time? The answer, clearly, is no. Here’s why:
-- I spent 4 months in France and made more tax free money than every one of my friends, and most of the American public.
-- I haven’t payed rent since college.
-- I work for a few hours a day and spend the rest being creative.
-- I get to travel the country, and the globe, and get paid to do it.
-- My job is FUN.
-- I can go back to Europe in a heartbeat and make big money for the rest of my days. I made enough this year to where I feel comfortable chillin for a bit.
Those, among other reasons clearly indicate that playing hoops, at any level, is one of the best jobs there is. I’ll bet $50, $100, $500 on that! I, and every person I play with, am blessed to be able bodied and skilled enough to do it. So, I actually thank Mr. Blakeney for helping me to remind me of why I do it. 2009 is gonna be huge, I can feel it! In other words: “my horn can pierce the sky!”
LMFAO Gets Groupies!
January/10/2009 12:13 PM Filed in: Random
I’ve been away from the court for the better part of the last month, but it clearly led me to really enjoy myself. I basically had a winter vacation for the first time since I was a high school freshman. One of my first orders of business was to get out and party with my boys, because I never get to do that outside of a couple summer months.
I was loungin at Clay’s apartment, trying to figure out our plans for the night, when we were told that LMFAO would be performing at one of my favorite spots, FLUID Ultralounge. We looked up LMFAO on MySpace music to see if we knew any of their songs and, sure enough, I had heard a couple of them before. I really like their song called “I am not a whore.” Thats some quality electronic hip hop right there. They also sing “I’m in Miami, bitch.”
So we cabbed it over to Fluid later that night to catch the performance and to get our dance party on.
When we got there I realized that the crowd was about 70% women and that they were dressed like it was a sexy halloween party:
Maybe that should have been an indicator of the extreme groupie-ism that was about to transpire, but I just considered it to be a good ratio. Then the group started performing and every woman in there went buck-wild.
I just don’t understand why the girls go crazy like that? They had a fat guy walk around the club and invite girls backstage for little rendezvous all night. They pulled their pants down and grinded on hella women. They pulled tops down and signed bare boobies. They made out with half the women WHILE PERFORMING. The funniest part is that their song is called “I AM NOT A WHORE!”
Look at Exhibit A above. Girl on right has the two handed wrap-hug/smile-for-the-camera pose going on. Girl on left has completely neglected the camera, because she has floppy tongue in her mouth. She completely ignores the fact that this picture is on NapkinNights.com and can be seen by the entire world. Afro-headed LMFAO member in the middle has his pants down, Carolina blue tight boxers, his tongue out, his sunglass lenses in the garbage and his eyes closed. I swear this photo was taken while he was on stage performing.
In the spirit of not hating, I think this is a signal that I need to hold special live performances for “Boom Got Them Three.” If LMFAO is any indication of how these small concerts go, I should be pants down, tongue out, eyes closed be the start of my second verse.
I was loungin at Clay’s apartment, trying to figure out our plans for the night, when we were told that LMFAO would be performing at one of my favorite spots, FLUID Ultralounge. We looked up LMFAO on MySpace music to see if we knew any of their songs and, sure enough, I had heard a couple of them before. I really like their song called “I am not a whore.” Thats some quality electronic hip hop right there. They also sing “I’m in Miami, bitch.”
So we cabbed it over to Fluid later that night to catch the performance and to get our dance party on.
When we got there I realized that the crowd was about 70% women and that they were dressed like it was a sexy halloween party:
Maybe that should have been an indicator of the extreme groupie-ism that was about to transpire, but I just considered it to be a good ratio. Then the group started performing and every woman in there went buck-wild.
I just don’t understand why the girls go crazy like that? They had a fat guy walk around the club and invite girls backstage for little rendezvous all night. They pulled their pants down and grinded on hella women. They pulled tops down and signed bare boobies. They made out with half the women WHILE PERFORMING. The funniest part is that their song is called “I AM NOT A WHORE!”
Look at Exhibit A above. Girl on right has the two handed wrap-hug/smile-for-the-camera pose going on. Girl on left has completely neglected the camera, because she has floppy tongue in her mouth. She completely ignores the fact that this picture is on NapkinNights.com and can be seen by the entire world. Afro-headed LMFAO member in the middle has his pants down, Carolina blue tight boxers, his tongue out, his sunglass lenses in the garbage and his eyes closed. I swear this photo was taken while he was on stage performing.
In the spirit of not hating, I think this is a signal that I need to hold special live performances for “Boom Got Them Three.” If LMFAO is any indication of how these small concerts go, I should be pants down, tongue out, eyes closed be the start of my second verse.