On the way to Hollywood Billiards...
...last night, I met a nice young college student who happened to be black. We chatted about his studies after he told me what a great day he had at school that day. He was handsome, well groomed, and if it weren't for the pants around his thighs, he would look like the kind of kid you would like to see your daughter dating.
He was charming, witty, considerate beyond his 19 years and possessive of all the qualities necessary to be a productive member of society. I actually remember thinking just that as we were chatting about Earth Sciences, his favorite class, and when I told him about volunteering at the excavation at the La Brea Tar pits, he was extremely interested asked a ton of questions about who I knew and if he could start soon. We had a great time.
Then, we parted ways and I went off to shoot pool with the stars. I shot exactly like a woman without her glasses, on large tables that she wasn't used to, surrounded by excellent players shooting nine ball. Unfortunately...I sucked. I actually committed blunder after floundering blunder. I shot so badly that I was absolutely mortified. The balls that DID go in consisted of 5 really nice shots, 165 way off shots and 792 closer than an ass hair shots.
I was determined to play until I got into my game and began attracting attention by my amazing skill. That just made my humiliation last longer. If it hadn't been for the Smirnoff Ice's that I drank, I wouldn't have been able to live with it as long as I did.
Anyway, eventually I gave up and left with my date. Coincidentally, we happened to run into the same guy from earlier on the way home. We're in the nation's second largest city with millions and millions of people and I ran into my new friend a few hours after I met him. We all went over to his place to talk which was odd for me...especially when I met his mother who is still in her thirties. My kids never brought home AARP members and I'm sure our presence took that lady aback as well. Anyway, I guess she realized that we were no threat to her son so she went to bed and we all sat around talking.
At one point in a VERY ENJOYABLE conversation, my new friend tosses out this little gem..."I can feel ya'll so I'm just gonna be straight up and tell you that I actually robbed a guy."
He said it like he was telling us what he had for breakfast. I suppose I should have been smart enough to be scared but I wasn't...the Smirnoff Ice...remember?
I was like Thelma in Thelma and Louise anxiously asking all sorts of questions and getting him to show me how he robbed the guy. It was really pretty cool. (Smirnoff Ice.) As he kept on talking, he eventually shared more and more information until it became obvious that he was not only a very prolific robber, but most likely not a college student either.
He told us every detail of how and why he chooses any one particular victim, how he approaches the victim, grabs his target and then how he gets away quickly and without being caught. For a good while there, I was enjoying it all and he knew it. Then, my giddy, Smirnoff-induced mood turned quickly into a defensive but still relatively cool mood because of something that he said..."I even thought about robbing you two."
I thanked him for not doing so and then I mentioned the 22 in my back pocket and said something stupid like, "I don't care about aim because I'm not shooting anyone 20 feet away from me...I'm plugging the fool who tries to have a close encounter with me."
Then, he reached around me affectionately and pulled his hand from one side of my hips to the other. Guessing that he had just checked to see if I did, in fact, have a 22 in my back pocket, I told him, "You know, I'm not wearing any granny jeans. These are low riders, the pockets were 3 inches below were you just checked."
He looked at me and said to my date, "This is one smart lady you got here!"
Shortly after that we went our own way and as I looked at the people around me, I wondered which one of them would be the one who actually DID rob me. Then I looked at my 250 pound 6'5" beau...Thor...and I decided that we wouldn't be likely targets. For last night anyway, it worked out just fine.
...last night, I met a nice young college student who happened to be black. We chatted about his studies after he told me what a great day he had at school that day. He was handsome, well groomed, and if it weren't for the pants around his thighs, he would look like the kind of kid you would like to see your daughter dating.
He was charming, witty, considerate beyond his 19 years and possessive of all the qualities necessary to be a productive member of society. I actually remember thinking just that as we were chatting about Earth Sciences, his favorite class, and when I told him about volunteering at the excavation at the La Brea Tar pits, he was extremely interested asked a ton of questions about who I knew and if he could start soon. We had a great time.
Then, we parted ways and I went off to shoot pool with the stars. I shot exactly like a woman without her glasses, on large tables that she wasn't used to, surrounded by excellent players shooting nine ball. Unfortunately...I sucked. I actually committed blunder after floundering blunder. I shot so badly that I was absolutely mortified. The balls that DID go in consisted of 5 really nice shots, 165 way off shots and 792 closer than an ass hair shots.
I was determined to play until I got into my game and began attracting attention by my amazing skill. That just made my humiliation last longer. If it hadn't been for the Smirnoff Ice's that I drank, I wouldn't have been able to live with it as long as I did.
Anyway, eventually I gave up and left with my date. Coincidentally, we happened to run into the same guy from earlier on the way home. We're in the nation's second largest city with millions and millions of people and I ran into my new friend a few hours after I met him. We all went over to his place to talk which was odd for me...especially when I met his mother who is still in her thirties. My kids never brought home AARP members and I'm sure our presence took that lady aback as well. Anyway, I guess she realized that we were no threat to her son so she went to bed and we all sat around talking.
At one point in a VERY ENJOYABLE conversation, my new friend tosses out this little gem..."I can feel ya'll so I'm just gonna be straight up and tell you that I actually robbed a guy."
He said it like he was telling us what he had for breakfast. I suppose I should have been smart enough to be scared but I wasn't...the Smirnoff Ice...remember?
I was like Thelma in Thelma and Louise anxiously asking all sorts of questions and getting him to show me how he robbed the guy. It was really pretty cool. (Smirnoff Ice.) As he kept on talking, he eventually shared more and more information until it became obvious that he was not only a very prolific robber, but most likely not a college student either.
He told us every detail of how and why he chooses any one particular victim, how he approaches the victim, grabs his target and then how he gets away quickly and without being caught. For a good while there, I was enjoying it all and he knew it. Then, my giddy, Smirnoff-induced mood turned quickly into a defensive but still relatively cool mood because of something that he said..."I even thought about robbing you two."
I thanked him for not doing so and then I mentioned the 22 in my back pocket and said something stupid like, "I don't care about aim because I'm not shooting anyone 20 feet away from me...I'm plugging the fool who tries to have a close encounter with me."
Then, he reached around me affectionately and pulled his hand from one side of my hips to the other. Guessing that he had just checked to see if I did, in fact, have a 22 in my back pocket, I told him, "You know, I'm not wearing any granny jeans. These are low riders, the pockets were 3 inches below were you just checked."
He looked at me and said to my date, "This is one smart lady you got here!"
Shortly after that we went our own way and as I looked at the people around me, I wondered which one of them would be the one who actually DID rob me. Then I looked at my 250 pound 6'5" beau...Thor...and I decided that we wouldn't be likely targets. For last night anyway, it worked out just fine.
posted by Meg Kelso | 10:35 PM
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