We met at happy hour and several of my work friends were there. Now here is the funny part. This one fellow that I work with who has a superiority complex comes over and it is clear he started happy hour at his house. The two men talk about life, California, politics, whatever else. I zone out and talk to elitist's girlfriend. I tune back into the conversation when I hear this fairly intoxicating man throwing out what can only be described as a pitiful attempt to be down. I am quite surprised he didn't utter the phrase, "you dig, my brotha?" It was all too funny.
There isn't much else to say from there. Big Black will not be getting a second chance. The very first thing I noticed about him was that he had ashy elbows damn near to his wrists. I get that black people may have different skin, but you gotta take care of that shit.
The sad thing about the whole thing is that as BB and I were leaving the bar, my Rasta Man crush showed up at the bar. He never comes to happy hour. It is just my luck.