One night while walking through the Lower Eastside, I stumbled on a little Latin club with a sign out front that read: $3 Tequila Shots. I didn’t have anything else to do so I went in. I was the only Black person in the entire place, so I pretty much stayed to myself at the bar. After about 6 shots, I noticed this woman across the room in a bright red shawl sort of giving me the eye. I could already tell from where I stood that she wasn’t all that cute. But I was drunk, and by this time horny, so naturally I said “what the hell”. I walked over and introduced myself, and after a few minutes of talking she decided to remove her shawl. Suddenly, out popped this little miniature baby arm, and it had a stubby little hand on the end with about 3½ fingers. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Her left arm was completely normal. However, her right arm was only 11 inches long and just sort of dangled up by her chest like a dinosaur.
At first I thought maybe it was me. After all, I was pretty smashed. So I tried to shake it off, but when I opened my eyes the little funny arm was still there. I thought, “WTF?” I was devastated. I mean… are you allowed to just spring a little baby arm on people without some kind of a warning? This hardly seemed fair. That’s when it hit me. I, Brett Sanders had just been hoodwinked. She purposely used the old “bait & switch” by covering up her little baby arm. You see; she knew very well any descent guy would have to be pretty f*ked up to just run off when they saw it. As a result, the poor guy would be trapped into staying. It was genius. Like a sick game of poker. Old One Armed Sally was calling my bluff; and I wasn’t about to fold. So I just continued on with the conversation as if everything was normal. Score one for the kid. I tried to pretend I didn’t even see it; which was pretty difficult, seeing how she was one of those people who constantly uses their hands to emphasize their point. She must have been on to me, because she suddenly began gesturing, and pointed with her dead hand even more than ever. At one point she even used it to move her hair out of her face, which really f*ked me up. That’s when I thought, “Touche. This bitch is obviously a professional.” Nevertheless, I was determined to stand my ground.
After 3 more tequila shots she eventually wanted to dance, so she pulled me out on the floor. Now here I am, the only brother in the place; drunk out my mind, and Salsa dancing with a girl with a little T- Rex arm. Somehow, this was not what I envisioned for my Saturday night. Although the entire room was doing Salsa, I knew there was no way in hell I was touching that little dead hand. So thinking fast, I immediately broke into the Electric Slide. I tried to get her to join in, but she still insisted on trying to do her Salsa moves with me anyway. At one point she even twirled herself back into a dip, and ended up falling backwards into a row of tables. I tried to catch her, but unfortunately she reached out to me with the wrong hand. Thank God those bouncers were there to help her up. By the time she got herself together, I was already back at the bar for last call.
Believe it or not, but this is where the story really gets crazy. At some point I must’ve blacked out, because when I awoke we were now at her place having sex. I’m pretty sure she slipped me a ruffie; because when I came to, I was literally laying on my back with her on top riding me. It was like Quantum Leap gone wrong. Now, I’m not sure if it was the ruffie or the 11 tequila shots; but suddenly it actually started to feel good. I mean, for a one armed girl, she apparently had a few tricks up her sleeve. The only thing that kept throwing me off, was that her little baby arm just sort of dangled there the entire time. Because I was drunk, for some reason I kept thinking she was waving “Hello”. So I kept saying “Hi” back. It was freaking me out, so I tried to cover it up by hanging my hat on her nub, but it kept slipping off. I realized this position wasn’t going to work, so I flipped her around and then I got on top. But now, I realized her little claw was even closer to my face. I just couldn’t win. I tried to just block it out of my head, but the next thing you know she began slapping me in the face with it and yelling, “You like that..huh? You like that?” When I felt her little clammy hand on my face I literally almost died. Trying to keep my cool I replied, “Can you maybe find something else to do with that?” She asked what and I replied, “I don’t know. Anything…be creative.” Moments later, just as I was about to climax, I couldn’t believe it. The girl stuck one of her little fingers in my mouth. Talk about a mood killer. I couldn’t get out of that room fast enough. I grabbed my clothes and ran out to the curb, where I proceeded to throw up about everything I had to eat that year. As soon as I got home, I jumped straight in the shower with all my clothes on, and sat there in the fetal position crying for like 3 hours. To this day, I have yet to have another drink.
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Today had to be the worst day of my entire life, hands down. For starters; my alarm clock didn’t go off which made me super late for my big meeting. And in all the madness of rushing out the door to get to the train, I accidentally ran out of the house without my pants. Believe it or not, I made it six whole blocks before I realized I still had on my damn long johns. Picture me running down the street like a madman, with my briefcase, suit jacket; and a pair of long john bottoms. And not just any long johns, but my favorite pair. You know; the ones I’ve slept in every single night since college. The ones that are so worn that the entire ass is gone; and despite all the new ones I get from my mom every year, I still wear because they’re so damn comfortable, and just one step away from sleeping naked. The worst part is, I didn’t even discover it until I went to pull out my metro card. There’s nothing like getting to the station and reaching back for your wallet, and instead grabbing your bare ass. Talk about awkward. I guess in hind sight; there were quite a few people pointing at me and shouting obscenities, while they covered their kid’s eyes. But hell, I just thought it was because I was Black. Of course there was also the cool breeze I felt across my ass as I ran. But, I just assumed that was my new peppermint lotion.
By the time I actually made it to the city, I was 15 minutes late for my meeting. I’d been working all year on this enormous copier deal with a company called Christian Leadership Alliance, and I was finally invited to speak to their board. The meeting was in this really fancy restaurant, and by the time I arrived everyone was already seated around the board table eating. The CEO was just beginning his address so I figured I had just enough time to grab myself a quick coffee from the set up in the back. I noticed they had those really fancy green latte mugs like the French place near my house: the really big ceramic ones without the stems. So, I poured myself a cup and discreetly sat down at the table. Looking around the room I realized not only was I the only Black person there, I was the only one under 65. Naturally I felt a little bit out of place. Just as I was sipping my coffee, the CEO stopped his speech, looked directly at me and said, “Excuse me…but why do you have a bowl of coffee?” As I looked around the table, I couldn’t believe what I had done. I was drinking my coffee out of a damn cereal bowl. Now completely on the spot; the only thing I could think to say was, “Oh I’m sorry, I just really like the coffee here.” It’s safe to say the meeting wasn’t exactly off to a great start.
Eventually it was time for my big sales presentation. I’m really good with people so I thought, “Okay, this is my chance to wow them.” So I connected my lap top to the projector on the table, and began my spiel: “Hello, I’d like to begin with a little introductory video we like to show all our perspective clients. I’m pretty sure you’re going to love it.” Then, instead of selecting the file on my lap top marked “MFP” (Multi-Functional Printer), I accidentally selected the wrong one marked “MP”; which stands for Midget Porn. Let’s just say, I don’t think anyone in that room was ready for what came next. If you follow this column at all, then you already know how much I love my midget porn. As luck would have it, this was the absolute most filthy gang bang midget flick I had in my entire collection. I mean, this REALLY was a good one. It’s called Kitchen Midgets 2, and it has pretty much an all star line up of midget porn stars including: Teeny Weenie, Tiny Vaginy, both Bridget and Twidget the Midgets (which as you know is a HUGE deal, seeing how it’s the first time they’ve appeared together on film since the big knife fight in Encino), and rounding up the cast was Baby Gangsta; who’s basically the 50 Cent of midget porn, but nowhere near as nice.
There were midgets doing things on that screen you couldn’t imagine even in your wildest midget fantasies. There were midgets doing it inside of refrigerators; 69′ing on top of ovens; and tossing all kind of salads both literally and figuratively. And then a grand finale that featured Baby Gangsta riding in on the back of a pit bull. All I have to say is, I’m sure glad that pit bull got the hell out of that kitchen when he did. He obviously saw what happened to the one in Kitchen Midgets 1. Before I knew it, the entire board room had broken into complete pandemonium. There were people screaming, crying, and doing Hail Marys. One lady even threw up, which if you ask me was taking it a little too far. In all the chaos I tried to stop the clip, but my lap top froze up so I couldn’t turn the damn thing off. Finally with no other choice, I just kicked my lap top clear off the table. It was the only thing I could think to do to make it stop. Sure, looking back I guess I could’ve just unplugged it. But if you know me at all, you know I don’t exactly think straight during a crisis. Not only was I escorted out of the building again by security. I am now out of an $800 Dell lap top, which I have the right mind to send the Christian Leadership Academy an invoice for.
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African American leaders protest blatant snubbing of Rosetta Stone from Black History
Washington DC. In a press conference this morning that ran on “CP Time”, which basically for all of the white reporters in the room translated to 45 minutes late. African American leaders gathered at our Nation’s Capital, to call for a boycott against next February’s Black History Month. “Not only is it the shortest month of the year”, remarked NAAACP Chairmen Nipsey Edward Russell the 3rd, “but in 28 days of Black History programming on every network from HGTV to Telemundo. Once again, the great African American abolitionist and Union spy Rosetta Stone, wasn’t mentioned one single time. And we aren’t going to stand for it anymore!” According to Curtis Bronson, one of the 700 gathered protesters outside on the mall, “It’s a shame that an old slave woman could make all those different language CD’s at a time when most slaves didn’t even have Walkmans, and still year after year be left out of Black History Month.” An unidentified protester shouted in the background, “Them Mother F*ckers Susan Luccyd her is what they did!” At that point, the entire crowd locked arms reminiscent to the great March on Washington, and in unison all began to sing last year’s R&B anthem Blame It, by Jamie Fox (featuring T. Pain). When asked why they chose such a seemingly odd song for the occasion, Civil Rights Leader and Chief Organizer Jesse Jackson explained, “No particular reason, we just really like the beat. We were all going to do Single Ladies. But Al was worried about sweating his hair out.”
When we teach our kids about all of the important Black pioneers that died for our freedom; African Americans and about a hand full of Mexicans are simply asking that Rosetta Stone be included in the history books as well. In a moving speech, Civil Rights Activist and Ex Pimp Reverend Al Sharpton exclaimed:
“If you ask me, it’s downright deplorable that we spend so much time learning about some crazy man who figured out a way to play a record with a peanut; and some old madam who’s famous for combing a few naps out of her hoe’s heads, instead of people that really made a difference in this country.” Sharpton continued on, “Big deal, the lady heated up a damn comb. That doesn’t make her a genius…she just didn’t like naps in her head. Meanwhile Rosetta an old slave woman, managed to make 52 different languages CD’s; all while helping to free the slaves along the Underground Railroad, and no one even so much as says a peep. We ought to be ashamed of ourselves as a people.”
By the time Reverend Sharpton was finished, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Including Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton, who later admitted:
“I actually never heard of Rosetta, but she sounds like she was a remarkable woman. Truthfully, I just dropped by because I love the little snack biscuits they always set out for all the Negro conferences. They remind me of the ones our dear old house keeper Big Mama used to make when I was a kid. Then she’d corn row my hair out on the back porch, and share with me the most touching prison lesbian stories while we shared a pack of Kool’s. ”
With tears in her eyes, Clinton tossed the last six biscuits in her purse and ran off to her office; angering the co host of The View’s Sherri Shepherd who complained, “Hillary makes me sick. That B*tch is always coming in here and stealing our good biscuits. Now I got to eat one of these old bull sh*t ass veggie wraps.” It’s still unclear whether Secretary Clinton was crying over Sharpton’s speech or the little snack sized butter biscuits.
The blatant snubbing of Rosetta Stone from Black History Month is no doubt a travesty. To add salt to an open wound, even Rosa Parks was awarded a damn Congressional Medal of Honor just for refusing to sit on the back of a bus. If my memory serves me correct, I don’t even think they had seats on the Underground Railroad. Not to mention a fancy little bell to ring to let the driver know you reached your stop. Yet we treat old Rosa like she parted The Red Sea; or came up with the idea for the indoor/outdoor bbq size George Foreman Grill. So where is Rosetta’s Parade? Where is her Grammy winning rap song featuring Big Boy and Andre 2000? Not only did Rosetta free all the slaves on foot: but amazingly enough, she managed to learn Swahili and German along the way. Do you know how difficult it is to learn German, running through a pitch black swamp with a pack of Basset Hounds hot on your ass? That’s what you call some serious multitasking. Rosetta gives a whole new meaning to the term “woman on the move”. So as an African American, it deeply disturbs me that poor Rosetta never gets her just due.
In a separate yet related interview, legendary poet and star of Stephen Spielberg’s E.T, Maya Angelou stated:
“It really chaps my ass whenever I turn on BET, and see someone like Fantasia getting her 2nd Life Time Achievement Award, when honestly…I don’t even think the heffa has mastered English yet. Have you ever tried closing your eyes while watching her family on their new VH1 reality show? You’d swear you were watching Roots. The episode where Chicken George gets his foot cut off.” While on the subject of Chicken; Maya Angelou decided to surprise the crowd with a 35 minute impromptu poem about the last time her and Oprah went to Popeye’s.
Angelou closed by saying that it makes no sense whatsoever that someone like Rosetta Stone dedicated her entire life to learning languages and freeing slaves, and she’s never even so much as gotten a Soul Train, Lady Of Soul Award.
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Stop the press!!! I just found out that Yvonne the Ghetto Receptionist speaks Chinese. WTF??? If you follow Brett and the City, then you know all too well who Yvonne the Receptionist is, and just why this statement is so shocking. For those of you who may be new to the column, before you go any further, I’d strongly suggest that you stop right now and immediately read the previous post titled: Meet Yvonne the Receptionist.
I used to refer to Yvonne as “the most ghetto receptionist in the world”; but after careful deliberation, I am afraid I’m actually going to have to retract that statement. A woman whose cell phone was once actually repossessed for failing to make her weekly payment to Tuffy’s Rent-a-Phone; and a woman who every Monday makes a giant pitcher of Kool-Aid at her desk to last her through the week. The word “ghetto”, would actually be considered a step up. Perhaps even something for Yvonne to aspire to. With our office being located merely steps away from Manhattan’s Red Light District: we often have to walk past all the local undesirables to get to work. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen random street hookers, literally point and laugh at Yvonne as she struts by in one of her infamous work outfits. When your taste is so bad that even common street whores have lost respect for you; I can honestly say that’s probably not a good thing. Truthfully even when I first met Yvonne, not knowing: during my interview I commented to the CEO, how admirable it was that he participated in the State’s “Prison to Work” program. Boy did I feel stupid when he told me he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. In my defense I explained, “I’m sorry; Yvonne just has the essence of a woman, struggling to ease back into the work force, after having just done a 7 to 10. But in a good way of course.”
