So get caught up on the first installment....yeah.
So okay. The Supa Clan bounces down to Venice Beach, and proceeds to get their roll on...Sexy Petite Diva and I decide to do our flossin' on the blades, while the RR gang (sans The Boy, he's too cool for all this shit) opts for the bikes. Cool! See?
Oh, and for those who were thinking I fell on my ass - nah. Ya girl glides like a brown stallion horse with skates on/smooth like a hot comb on nappy ass hair! Thought you knew...
(The Girl was so damn excited!) The rest of the clan, in preparation......
So the weather was nice, and we took in the sights, such as:
The wanted poster for Osama Bush Laden...
The sign letting us know the bike path was under construction...(tagged up Southern Cali graffiti style)
The famous Venice basketball courts, where they be hardcore street ballin'.....
And the crowded Venice Boardwalk.
Now here's Supa and SPD lookin' all windblown! (we were takin' a break).
And, check this out. Notice the SUPA t-shirt I was rockin'? Well, whenever I skated past some fool, all I heard was "SOOUUPPAAAA!"
Surprised the hell outta me, because (a) I was purposely skating with a great amount of speed so folks wouldn't have time to read my titties, and (b) seeing as how most of those fools looked functionally illiterate, I was pleasantly surprised they could actually read.
I'm just sayin'.
Now, lemme say this. Ladies, ya'll already know - as women, we are constantly approached, propositioned, macked to, popped at - all the time. Just how it is. We accept it. Right? Most times we handle that shit graciously. We cool about it. You know, play the game, engage in harmless banter, launch a few polite disses, send the fool on. (and admittedly, I am a vicious flirt..)
What the fellas gotta to realize, that on any given day, by about 12 noon, at least 200 otha fools have already approached the sista you *think* you're about to throw your fresh mack down on. Now...
The first 2...or 5...or even, let's say 10 fools who approach, we cool. By the time Fool# 298 approaches, our shit's gonna be markedly less amicable. 'Cuz... we tired. Tired of gettin' popped at with unoriginal lines. You know. So by that time, our responses will be a lil' more simple. Basic. Short. Dry. Evil. Feel me? So sometimes, it 'aint you - just bad timing. But then again, sometimes it IS you. And a lot of the times, we don't feel like explaining the difference.
Case in point: Supa was admiring a piece of artwork being displayed, and a fool slithers beside her and says:
Fool: Six five two twenty.
Supa: *straight ignoring*
Fool: Six five two twenty.
Supa: Damn. Can I help you?
Fool: Baby I'm 6'5", 220, with braids and tatts. I'm all the man you'll ever need..
Supa: Yeah? Well I fucking hate men. I'm into girls. Now excuse me, I think I see my wife.....
Anyway. Would you give this man a dollar?
This fool is dancing for his supper, on the boardwalk, in a leaopard print speedo, ankle socks, and tennies. I took a picture of him, but I 'aint have a dollar.
So Kish and her dude took another pic, and gave him some cheddar.
It was another April-ish day in LA.
Gotta love it!