Understanding the Fabulosity.

**I found these in my drafts and it was too fun for me not to share so consider this a post-Miami treat! The above was the title of the first draft. I crack myself up.**

When last we left off, I was blogging beneath the coconut tree about my time with the Colombian. So Stace and I are sitting outside the club, minding our biz when the Colombian pulls up a chair. We look at each other like "Word? Really? All that?" He's oblivious in his drunken state. He starts to ask us if we saw the lunar eclipse and blah blah blah. He buys me another mojito... whoooooo!! "Bouncer" and the self-proclaimed coconut king return and we're surrounded. MAKE IT STOP!! Too much. He also asked me if he could kiss me "right there" which was on my mole next to my nose. That would be a no. I don't know where your lips have been AND THAT'S BIZARRE NUTSO!!! We ask the Colombian to take a picture of us and do you know first he took a picture of himself and the owner. What??? Too much. Drew FINALLY arrives to rescue us and we head to his next gig. This one is at a place called Mara.bou Cafe. You don't ever want to go here.

It's a strip mall restaurant converted to a club and they were charging $30/head. But we're with the band so of course we pay NOTHING. I would've left if we had to anyway. No sweat off my back. No one in there was sexy. We head next door where they're playing hip-hop and miss the concert. But why was it stripper central up in the hip hop spot? They kept their clothes on but the girls were the stankest thing since Stankonia. And not in a good way. These were the Monday-Friday daytime strippers with stab wounds and c-section scars. You know the ones who don't make the club any money. The ones who get a few pity dollars thrown at them. Womp.

Next we head to the bass player's house. AFTERPARTY!! Guinness all around. When you've been drinking, Guinness doesn't taste as chewy. We hang out there for a minute, then head to IHOP. That's right Joy and La, NOT WAFFLE HOUSE. For those who don't know I think Waffle House is the most disgusting restaurant in America. Convict food. Please do not put a Kraft single on scrambled eggs with the extra large pieces of ham and call it an omelette. Vomit. How about the dudes behind us are straight passed out at the table. All three of them. Wil'in. We grub then head back to Drew's and crash.

Overall note:
The guys we were around (the band) like to kiss you on the forehead when they say hi. Lovely when they're cute. Not so much when they're not.

Draft 2:
Omg so urban journalista is talking about crushin. how fabulous are crushes? i don't know if i would've graduated from high school or college w/o them. i cannot go to school and enjoy myself without the possibility of seeing someone who makes me stomach do flips. my mom says i came out of the womb liking boys. boy crazy from the start. and a natural flirt. its just great! who can top that? how do you survive w/o crushes. i mean granted, i've had to do it now, but its not as bad b/c i'm working non-stop so who even notices. the only thing i'm tryin to see is the back of my eyelids for 9/10 hours a night. nah mean?

so anyway crushes. back in college, we made crushin a sport. i had to be chief crush-a-lot. i'm sayin ya girl was the QUEEN of crushes. So true!! LMAO!! Here's the post I actually completed. College is so fun!!