NYC... New Years Eve... 2005

"goddammit chad! you named this column after the greek god of wine and festival. why is everything you write about some black shit that don't nobody give a rat's ass about?" you're right. i should lighten up a little...we ain't getting no reparations, so why even bitch about it? (this sexy girl i knew told me that the hawaiians get reparations-now i am really pissed! the nerve!) i guess i'll tell you folks about what i did over the holiday season which i spent in new york city and also in deer park, new york (where my grandmother lives). some of it was inconsequential, while some of it was down right hilarious. i'll give it to you how i remembered it...in a blacked out, very vague flashback form...ya heard?

-i got to see the only musical artist that i am even close to being a groupie over, jean grae. i have always had a thing with a woman that can express herself in such a male-dominated industry such as hip-hop. myself, kevin hutchinson and rob bacon ventured to the sounds of brasil (s.o.b.'s) and saw ms. grae do her thing. you know how at rap shows, you really don't give a fuck about the opening acts, just the headliners? well there was one real good opener, mr. eon. this dude had a real tight stage presence and had a great voice. you may hear more from this guy, but more than likely you won't hear shit from him because he's actually good and will probably be doomed to the underground for all eternity. anyhow, jean grae was there, and was so tight. the thing a like about the girl is that she's funny and can relate to the crowd. it doesn't hurt that she's cute and thick and looked, oh so good in them jeans on some ginuwine shit. all i know is that i had one too much too drink and barfed my fucking ass off at rob's crib. but really, if y'all haven't (especially the ladies) check out jean grae's shit. she definitely puts all other female emcees to shame and does a number on most of the men too. truly one of the best out here. thick too. she's coming to dc on friday, january 21 at the black cat, and i'm a groupie, so i'll be there.

-what the fuck is this reggaeton explosion? where did this shit come from? it's like dancehall mixed with commercial hip-hop and rapped in spanish. that's about as bad of a recipe for disaster as trying to force democracy on the middle east. this shit sucks! it's all over the radio in new york too! i don't get it. yo-i'm sorry. if you don't speak english with an american accent, do not rap. do not fucking rap. the only people that can get away with this are slick rick, monie love and roots manuva! no, not the streets, sorry. i cannot believe this shit. all i can say is that i am glad that there are more spanish speaking people in this country than blacks, so now they can become the second tier race and feel all of the shit that we have been going through for years (like: "those goddamned latinos are taking all of the white man's jobs). what is bad about that, is the proliferation of their culture into american culture. i hope they've got better shit to offer than this clown-ass spanglish babble that is reggaeton.

-manhattan is full of shit. my buddy does investment banking. good thing he is on the island of manhattan. i don't think that the pickup line "have you ever heard of ubs warburg?" would work any where else save for maybe london and los angeles. we met a bunch of austrailian girls, one of which came to america to get a "99 cent cheeseburger". what an incredible country we live in when foreigners come for a fucking item off the extra value menu and have suddenly achieved american nirvana. sad. (a very funny aside to this story-on the way from whatever pretentious bar we were at, my boys took one cab, and then i took another with the 3 aussie ladies. we got to my folks' spot, paid the man, and got out of the cab. i was on the left side of the cab and had to get out on the right. i believe that the combination of my fat ass shifting and my cheap ass $20 old navy jeans resulted in the crotch of my pants ripping as i got out of the cab. i felt my fucking dignity rip as well. do you have any idea how hard it is to chill for an hour with a torn crotch while attempting not to let anyone know about it? i had to sit at certain angles, cross my legs, laugh at jokes that were not funny, alladat. good god...i believe no one noticed, but i am not sure if everyone else knew i had this ripped crotch. just a little something for the folks that say i sound too arrogant on here. i, also, fuck up. the breeze felt great though.)

-if you are ever in new york and ever feel out of place or as if people are not listening to you, or are not in compliance with want you want from them, there is one thing that you can say. the following phrase can be used in any borough without fear of alienation or attack from normal humans or from those godammed unamerican terrorists. if the party is not hype, all you need to ask is, "is brooklyn in the house?" to which you will find that everyone in manhattan (or wherever you are at that time) is actually from brooklyn and that they will get hype as fuck because you just asked if brooklyn was, indeed, in the house or not. if you have used the aforementioned phrase too much and don't want the party to wane due to reiteration, one can always go back to the biggie classic, "where brooklyn at?" this will work as well.

-true story: we went to the 40/40 club on a monday night. it was slow, as it should be considering it was the start of the week. for those that don't know, the 40/40 club is jay-z's sports club that is down in the meat packing district (no, the gay spot is the village, not the meat packing district) . the place is nice though. it isn't too big, but it really is plush. i'm just glad they let me in with some indie-rock jeans. since it was so slow, i asked one of the bouncer/club dudes to show me around. so he proceed to take me upstairs to these 4 rooms, one with a pool table, one a cigar room, one a gaming room complete with a playstation and an x box, and one room that cost $3000 just to rent out for the evening...no drinks included. being the curious fellow i am, i ask the dude, "so yo man, where do beyonce and jay z chill at when they're here?" that dude's response is as follows: "excellent question. right over here, (he motions me over to the stairs and points to a sectioned off area that is right in front of the biggest screen in the whole club.) this partioned area is exclusively for jay and beyonce. not only do they have the best view in the house, but everyone in the house has the best view of the hottest couple in hip hop." i almost shit myself on spot and wondered to mineself, "how much more pretentious can this fucking place get?"

-12:32am, 1-1-2005...a tad bit after the ball fell, myself and kevin hutchinson went to this party in manhattan. i was invited by this cool ass girl we had met the other day, and she said it would be cool if me and my homie fell through. cool. so we go up to the apartment, take the elevator up and are greetled new year's eve style by cute little ol' ashleigh. all is well. she takes us into the apartment that is having the party, and i, being the festive muthafucka that i am start to tell all the party people "happy new year's y'all". most were in agreement and smiled and wished a yungplure a great new year. when ashleigh attempted to introduce us to the hostess of the party i overheard the hostess going "ashliegh, no. no way. who are these guys?" now my hair is crazy. true, but i don't think i look like a problem. kevin has dreadlocks true, but he looks like good folks too. and plus we was both dressed to the 9's with the pimp ass silk/cotton mixtures and the garbadine wool...ya heard? so i sorta took offense to that shit, but paid it no heed as we laughed about the salutation while pouring a super stiff drink in the kitchen. i looked around the party for a friendly face, and when i found one, i asked him if people were smoking at the party. real smoke...no marlboros, bro...he said, yeah, in that room back there. so me and kev and a couple of young ladies go to that room back there and fire up that funk. all was cool, until some girl burst in the room and screamed, "whoever the fuck is smoking fucking marijuana in my house, get the fuck out!!!" i grabbed my coat, stumped out the blunt on the bottom of my shoe, and just left with my drink and my pal, kevin...12:38 am, 1-1-2005...

just a little bit of my life for those that do not know...more to follow...
peace,
chadster 29.5