Sunday, May 20, 2007

Fun with a "Gangsta"

"Sorry dude, you're out of dress code. You can't come in," I said to the wannabee thug last night. "Your clothes are too baggy."

Like most people told that they can't come in, it took a second or two for the little Eminem wannabe to digest the information, then the realization that he was just told he's not good enough to get in took hold.

"Yo....yo dawg, are you serious?" he said, looking at me wide-eyed like I had just told him his mother died.

"About as serious as he is drunk," I responded, motioning to a drunk guy passed out on the sidewalk, halfway laying in the gutter.

"That's fucked up!"

And so the wannabe thug stood there not two feet from me, eyeing everyone coming in and out of the bar, pointing and making comments about each one and what they were wearing, for the next 5 minutes or so. His friends would periodically join him and egg him on, encouraging his anger for getting rejected. As I knew it would, this eventually pissed me off. And as I knew he would, he eventually came up to me to voice his grievances .


I ignored him.

"Yo, dude! Yo...."

Thug wannabee walked up to me and pointed at a guy walking out. "Yo, that guys clothes are baggy, too. Why can't I come in?

Finally I turned to face him, squaring off with him.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked him. "Are you fucking stupid?"

"Yo, I was just sayin' that dawg walkin' out had baggy clothes too."

"Oh...I'm sorry. I thought we went over this. Your clothes are too fucking baggy. Was I not clear about that? Has something fucking changed in the last 2 fucking minutes? I'm sure I didn't fucking stutter when I told you that. Did I fucking stutter? Do I look like a fucking retard?"

"Nah, dawg, I was just sayin..."

"I know what you were saying. You were fucking saying that apparently you know how to do my job better than I do. Is that what you're fucking saying to me?"

"Nah, dude..."

"Maybe you should stand up here and fucking do what I do for the rest of the night. Because apparently you know how to do this better than I do. Is that what you're fucking saying to me right now? You can do my job better than me? You think you know more about my job than I do? Seems to me like you're calling me a fucking idiot. Are you calling me a fucking idiot?"


"Ok, then. So why don't you take your wannabee gangster ass, get the fuck out of my doorway, and shut your fucking trap. Is there anything un-fucking-clear about that, you fucking piece of white trailer trash?"


"I didn't think so."


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