Had a slight flashback to my college days last night at 11:45pm, this morning at 6am, then again at 8am in a high school classroom. The first was wanting to hang myself for being up at 6am. The second was my intense hatred for those damn desks my legs never vibed with at 8am. The third was a rarity in that I made the prudential decision to only turn up slightly from 8:30pm to midnight before my county test. The one time where my honey dip and I were making some serious connections, I gotta go be responsible and shit. Lame. Shoutouts to the Chestnut Club in Santa Monica though, that place is pretty lit, despite my $20 shot of whiskey. Not sure if it was worth that much, but when in Rome and all that. Not to mention I was able to hang out at Bad Robot for like 30 minutes or so. Their office is housed in such an unassuming building. It is literally just a brick and mortar venue that looks like the dozens of other brick and mortar buildings in Santa Monica. I appreciate great feats of stealth, so bravo.
I got to experience great people, great amenities, and overall chill atmosphere; certainly my kind of work environment. The coup de grace was this crazy banana cream pie (my favorite pie)/pudding concoction that was lightly whipped. Ooof. It tasted like heaven was doing pirouettes on my tongue. They’ve got my approval for anything they do now. Even if they are behind some shitty adaptation of something I love, I’ll give them a pass for that piece of decadence.
Just want to touch on something really quick. So ol girl had a friend of hers laser cutting some stuff for her side business at Bad Robot (hence my entry). He came with us to the bar(s) as it was a Bad Robot shindig for someone’s birthday. As we file into the bar, everyone is already seated. Mind you this is one of those circular booth things. I was fiddling with my I.D. only see that this guy puts some pep in his step to walk behind my bae-in-training. Okay, I see you bro. Naturally, I’m at the end of this brown donut booth thing and he’s between me and her. I didn’t trip and I could have asked him to switch, but it wasn’t a huge deal. She referenced him as the “annoying little brother” so no threat in my eyes. Any doubt was essentially shattered when my man didn’t bother getting up to dance, just sitting there stiff as hell. Case closed. Though I can’t be hard on him, he prolly had no idea of my relation to her. Hell, I don’t even have a full understanding of it either. Still a funny exchange nonetheless. Her sis was snapping photos of us being ridiculous and carrying on so that’s a pretty good indicator of something I’ve yet to determine. Optimism.
But yeah this damn test was cockblocking me and ruining my steeze. I was pretty close to saying “Fuck it” and heading to the next bar with everyone else, but I knew better. Oooo 23-year-old me would have definitely stayed. But he ain’t have the foresight I do now (obviously). So I decide to dip and was planning on scooping ol girl off to the side and turning on the mack and cheese. You know, just drizzle that on them natural locks of hers then die immediately because you don’t enter a black woman’s follicle domain unless you get a passport and three letters of recommendation from other black women who will vouch for you.
Anyway, the plan was set and instantly ruined as were all moving as a group to this spot around the corner. Casual me just chillin, looking for my opening that ended up never coming so I had to improvise. Then that improvisation never came and I just told her I was gonna leave. I wanted so much to whisk her away, but I had to play it cool as we were in a fair amount of company. But to my surprise, I got me a real two-armed hug this time around instead of the one-armed “I don’t like really you, but I don’t want to be rude” type hug. That damn side hug, ugh. So that was nice I got upgraded. I kid though, she’s great and has physical reasons as to why the hugging game isn’t super strong. So I try to keep it ginger and respectful because I tend to crush spines from time to time (so skronnngggg).
I don’t think I’ll ever get a pussy hug from her though, which is fine. That requires a lot of the back and hers is kind of messed up, so I rather her not get paralyzed tryna make me feel better. For the uninitiated:
Pussy hug (noun) – when a girl leans in and arches her back where her vagina is the first thing to make contact with the pelvis. Then she slowly presses her breasts against the chest & then finally wraps her arms around the neck.
Our resident relations expert Murs (his new album is Okay™) was the first to succinctly define this phenomenon that millions of men (including me) have experienced in the course of their lifetimes on his track titled “I Hate Your Boyfriend.”
Let me give the people what they want though. This test was interesting and slightly challenging, I can’t even front. The writing portion was pretty cake, they essentially wrote it for you with the prompt and content requests in the directions. The multiple choice test was a different fucking beast though, my word. There were 100 questions spanning a multitude of topics/disciplines that I was so glad I had knowledge in. It was pretty insane and I feel like the older candidates prolly bombed hard on the video production and social media section. Those questions were obscure as shit. I think I did decently. I always have that pit of doubt in my stomach after multiple choice tests. “Was it really A for three question in a row? Oh no, I fucked up. It wasn’t X, it was Z. Or maybe Y?” Just a hot mess really. There’s gotta be a better way to measure potential.
The best part was that one of the proctors just looked a county employee. Like you know her pension was straight and retirement was prolly 4 months away or some shit. She was an elderly black lady with that slight waddle with manicured hands that prolly were responsible for dozens of Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. She was rocking those trainer type New Balance shoes because her feet prolly hurt and she was sporting a short gray church-lady hairdo with the curls; she was a literal piece of history. I just imagined her with those big-ass gaudy Sunday sermon hats in the front row side-eying the bishop as he’s tryna spit game to a young 20-something choir girl talking about “come visit me in my study this evening for a private prayer session.” She was super nice though, made me wanna call my grandma. I plan on visiting her after my other test on Monday anyway. Look at me being all family oriented and shit, what a god.