Holla-ing in Da Hood

     Da Hood was calling our names. We holla-ed back! For the past month, the Disbeliever and I have been exploring Da Hood once or twice a week. We can’t get enough! Da Hood loves us!

    Our first extravaganza to Da Hood was on the day before Cinco de Mayo, so it was Quatro de Mayo. We found this gem while walking the streets, as hood rats do. We sit down and order a pitcher of Sangria immediately. We could not remember the last time we had a drink or got drunk! We rarely get to go out because we work mostly weekends. Whenever we have off, we take advantage of it!     

There was an eld (probably in his 40s) who was sitting next to me, a few chairs away. The Disbeliever caught him peepin’ at me. Not again, I thought. Soon enough, he moved closer and started talking to me. FML! His old man friend (in his late 60s) came over to talk to us. He hooked us up with so many drinks and shots. We were basically paired up now. The 40-year-old virgin kept putting his hand on my leg and gave me a horrible massage. I squirmed away. Creepy hands. I hate talking to these elds about my life. I have no interest in ever seeing him again, so he does not need to know anything about me. Plus the conversation is so boring. Guys need to learn how to hold a conversation. Blablabla.

     I think these old timers just talk to younger girls to lift their self-esteem. I am not Prozac!

     The 40-year-old virgin left after numerous failed attempts. The really old man, his friend, stuck around. He was at the bar since 2 p.m.! He was really funny and gave us sage advice: “The key to living a long and happy life is to have lots of sex.” I’ll take that prescription, doc!

     Then a younger eld came by to join the orgy. At least he was younger and more attractive than the other two. I also got a sharp tattoo of flames on my arm. I would seriously consider getting it. It’s that “hot.”

     The night ended with him giving us an amazing massage. That was a good happy ending. ;)

Keepin’ it real,

   Realist