A Mexican, not a Niggra, stole my cell phone
You all know I am probably the most pathetic idiot to walk the face of the earth, especially when it comes to keeping track and taking care of my belongings. Just last night, Jada almost ran out of gas on the 495 as I was driving back from BWI airport...why? Because I treat her like a two-bit whore...but she was a gangsta and got us to an Exxon.
Along those lines, I lost my phone Friday night. I was at BarNun w/ some friends and my visiting sisters and lil cousin. Anyways, I hate things in my pocket...really, I hate it. Bulky keys, phones, wallets, even my hands. (I used to hate thick wads of money in my pocket, but I haven't had to be bothered with that since I left AF&PA a couple years back.) So, because of my aversion to keeping things in my pocket and because I can't carry a purse, I tend to set valuable things (cellphones, keys, wallets) on table tops...regardless of where I'm at.
Well, Friday night I was at BarNun and it was no different. I sat down and set my cellphone on the lil table in front of the seats/couch we were sitting at. Now, immediately, everyone started calling me names and scowling at how irresponsible that was (which is why I often leave my cell at home or in a car, because I don't want to be bothered with looking after it or people calling me an idiot and raising their hand like they're going slap me when i set it on the table). But as usual, I didn;'t care what everyone was saying and even secretly expected my more responsible friends and family members to look after my phone for me (as they usually do).
Chuck was was the first to mind the phone for me. We left the laid-back upstairs lounge for the loud and "crunk" downstairs, but as I was headed for the stairs, they played "I Love Every Little Thing About You", one of my favorite Stevie's, so I took a seat and decided to stay until the end...moments later, Chuck hands me my phone...if he didn't, I was sure to lose it.
Downstairs, I set it on another table. The difference with the downstairs situation is that we had a Mexican busboy that was obviously a klepto.
This Mexican stole three shots off our table. THREE!!!
Lyd had bought a round of shots, but just as we were about to indulge, Amerie came on...so the girls jetted for the floor (as women do).
Meanwhile, Chuck, G and I are engulfed in some argument and here comes the Mexican clearing the table like a diabolical streetsweeper in a PIXAR flick. Hector is just goin to town on the table. And you know Mexicans love their tequila (even though it wasn't tequila...but I don't think Vasquez knew that.).
So the girls get back and its time to do this shot thing...only three of them don't have shots (I think I was holding mine, otherwise Hernandez would've got me too). Needless to say, they were mad and Lydia immediately began her NYC-"irritated with immigrants" diatribe.
Fast forward...
About an hour later, Chuck and G are getting ready to leave, so they're saying their goodbyes out near the dance floor. I swing over there for a minute, too.
When I get back...my cell phone is GONE! Now, this is no high-tech cell we're talking about here. It's beat up, held together by tape, it's a piece of trash. But if you have family in Manzanillo, it'll do the trick. So Miguel probably came through, streetsweepin, saw the cell and ganked me.
Security, bartenders, no one located a lost cell...that's because Hector had it in the cleaning closet, kockin over PineSol becuase he was gonna get a chance to call Maria for the first time in months.
That night, I didn;t wanna report it stolen because I was holding out slim hope that someone put it in their purse and forgot about it, etc. But the next day i called Verizon and someone had made a call that morning. They couldn;'t tell me to where, but it was probably to Acapulco.
I took that as a cue to discontinue the service.
But the thing was, I NEEDED a phone. I was going to Florida for an interview the next day and couldn't afford to be uncontactable (new word. and what?). Waiting for Verizon insurance to send a phone wouldve taken too long. So I decided to switch to sprint (same number obviously), but didn;t really have the extra dough (not even $50) to get a halfway decent phone. So I had to settle for the free joint...some rinky-dink piece of shish that makes stupid sounds when you flip it open and close it...stuff my mother would like.
Needless to say, I need numbers since I no longer have my phone book, so email me your stats (home, cell, work) when u get a chance.
Along those lines, I lost my phone Friday night. I was at BarNun w/ some friends and my visiting sisters and lil cousin. Anyways, I hate things in my pocket...really, I hate it. Bulky keys, phones, wallets, even my hands. (I used to hate thick wads of money in my pocket, but I haven't had to be bothered with that since I left AF&PA a couple years back.) So, because of my aversion to keeping things in my pocket and because I can't carry a purse, I tend to set valuable things (cellphones, keys, wallets) on table tops...regardless of where I'm at.
Well, Friday night I was at BarNun and it was no different. I sat down and set my cellphone on the lil table in front of the seats/couch we were sitting at. Now, immediately, everyone started calling me names and scowling at how irresponsible that was (which is why I often leave my cell at home or in a car, because I don't want to be bothered with looking after it or people calling me an idiot and raising their hand like they're going slap me when i set it on the table). But as usual, I didn;'t care what everyone was saying and even secretly expected my more responsible friends and family members to look after my phone for me (as they usually do).
Chuck was was the first to mind the phone for me. We left the laid-back upstairs lounge for the loud and "crunk" downstairs, but as I was headed for the stairs, they played "I Love Every Little Thing About You", one of my favorite Stevie's, so I took a seat and decided to stay until the end...moments later, Chuck hands me my phone...if he didn't, I was sure to lose it.
Downstairs, I set it on another table. The difference with the downstairs situation is that we had a Mexican busboy that was obviously a klepto.
This Mexican stole three shots off our table. THREE!!!
Lyd had bought a round of shots, but just as we were about to indulge, Amerie came on...so the girls jetted for the floor (as women do).
Meanwhile, Chuck, G and I are engulfed in some argument and here comes the Mexican clearing the table like a diabolical streetsweeper in a PIXAR flick. Hector is just goin to town on the table. And you know Mexicans love their tequila (even though it wasn't tequila...but I don't think Vasquez knew that.).
So the girls get back and its time to do this shot thing...only three of them don't have shots (I think I was holding mine, otherwise Hernandez would've got me too). Needless to say, they were mad and Lydia immediately began her NYC-"irritated with immigrants" diatribe.
Fast forward...
About an hour later, Chuck and G are getting ready to leave, so they're saying their goodbyes out near the dance floor. I swing over there for a minute, too.
When I get back...my cell phone is GONE! Now, this is no high-tech cell we're talking about here. It's beat up, held together by tape, it's a piece of trash. But if you have family in Manzanillo, it'll do the trick. So Miguel probably came through, streetsweepin, saw the cell and ganked me.
Security, bartenders, no one located a lost cell...that's because Hector had it in the cleaning closet, kockin over PineSol becuase he was gonna get a chance to call Maria for the first time in months.
That night, I didn;t wanna report it stolen because I was holding out slim hope that someone put it in their purse and forgot about it, etc. But the next day i called Verizon and someone had made a call that morning. They couldn;'t tell me to where, but it was probably to Acapulco.
I took that as a cue to discontinue the service.
But the thing was, I NEEDED a phone. I was going to Florida for an interview the next day and couldn't afford to be uncontactable (new word. and what?). Waiting for Verizon insurance to send a phone wouldve taken too long. So I decided to switch to sprint (same number obviously), but didn;t really have the extra dough (not even $50) to get a halfway decent phone. So I had to settle for the free joint...some rinky-dink piece of shish that makes stupid sounds when you flip it open and close it...stuff my mother would like.
Needless to say, I need numbers since I no longer have my phone book, so email me your stats (home, cell, work) when u get a chance.
posted by Twistinado @ 3:14 PM
1 Comments:
At 12:05 PM,
Not Your Average Chimichanga said…
to date...
i have gone through five cellphones in four years...
lost two in a cab
dropped two in a toilet
one just straight up died on me because i had battered the thing..
i love phones. i hate phones.
remember when you didn't even need a cellphone? remember when, if you left your house, that was it? folks just had to leave messages at the crib. i miss the days when an answering machine was sufficient.
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