She Ain't Messin With no Broke Nigga

I was gonna drop a Music Dude post today, because I've been doin knowledge on the new Miles Davis box set and my favorite music pirate, Sumaya (who is also the blgs omsbudman) has just dropped us two goliath internet bootlegs. But I'm chillin on this for a minute to bring you an interesting story, or at least what i thought to be interesting.

Its a tale of a real live gold digger that I met at Applebees.

Now, J, one of my favorite black girls, keenly noted that "ain't no real goldigger eating at applebees, dawg. " Which is only semi-true. its a pseudo-truth, a quasi-truth, if you will...and on two levels.

First, she was eating at Applebees, she was working at Applebees. Ahhhhhh!!!!! the plot thickens, does it not? we'll get to all this, trust me.

but first, lets examine the other reason why one of my favorite black girls was only partially right.

to do that, we gotta determine what type of gold digger we're talking about. Are we talkin a Kanye gold-digger? or an EPMD gold digger. Sadly, a few of you reading this blog thought Ye was the first dude to drop a song entitled gold digger, when in fact black girls like J and black boys like me were rockin to a track called gold digger back in 1990 on EPMD's Business as Usual LP. yeah, yall remember? of course you do. how can u forget the track with the sax riff from the Funkadelic's "Freak". for many of us youngsters it was our first introduction to women that purposely try to get men for their dough by using sex and the product of sex, only, society didn't call these women prostitutes.

Kanye's gold digger, a fly honey with HLT (Hips, Lips and Ti...Tonsils) out for the come-up on some rich, movie star, rap star, ball playin nigga...the chick lookin for some high profile dude to make her hot...the chick asking a dude to take a walk in the rain without a raincoat and next thing u know they got a seed between them and he's hooked for child support....the chick who gets fat whips and fly shoes and fresh gear bought in exchange for some of that sweet thang....that was the Parish (EPMD, Eric and Parish Makin Dollas) gold digger long before Kanye reprised it.

check a portion of Parish's verse:
til one day, she spent the crazy dough
Ten G's on Levi's, cold went Rambo
But then she smiled, gave me a back massage
Gassed my head up, and said (oh P you're so large)
Like a jerk, I went for the line like a fish
But she was far from dream girl, and more like a death wish
She likes to sit back, lamp, walk on plush rugs
Whip my five-sixty sip Moet and bug
(so did you flip?)Tried to but she cut me off
And said, "Guess what?" (what) "I'm pregnant" (pregnant? damn)
Yeah and the child is yours

Now that's one type of gold-digger. Eric Sermon spit on the other type in the earlier verse.

check the techs:

Oh what the heck, let's get married and have a son named Erick
No big deal, no sweat
Hmmm, I was in for a big surprise
And when I saw the judge hammer pass my green eyes
Brainlocked, my whole damn head was malfunctional
Cause I forgot to co-sign a prenuptial, agreement
Now her case is hard like cement
I have no files on all the money she spent
She has a car, nineteen ninety brand new Jaguar
Fly kit, with chrome rims that's five star
that she bought, when I was away on tour
Hittin' my bank account, gettin more and more money
She got paid, it wasn't funny
Talkin to myself - oh you big big dummy

This is more of the gold-digger i'm talkin about. the woman that marries a man, severs ties and walks away with much of he earned. sometimes its warranted, sometimes it isnt.

and lets be clear, gold-diggin is a mentality. a woman need not be rich or perusing with rich men to be a gold digger. a gold digger is a woman that basically seeks a man pockets and does so in devious, heartless ways.

which brings us to the chick in applebees.

my neighborhood had some stupid blackout a while ago, righ in the middle of the lakers game. so, i went to the local applebees to kop some $1 beers and some nachos, sit by lonesome and focus on my squad.

thats when homegirl comes over to my table, with some fruity looking drink, sits down and starts to yakking, stright up bumpin her gums. were it some other time, i'd have been happy to engage her, since its not everyday that someone randomly comes over to your table to start conversing. i eat alone alot, and i can count on one hand how often thats happened, unless we're talking about a server sitting down for a moment and chatting. but this time, i was a lil disturbed, but didnt want to be rude...so i engaged.

apparently her shift was nearing its end and it was slow and she wanted to know why i was eating a lone and what i did and where i'm from and every other personal matter other than, "Am I disturbing you?" If she was super-duper-extra-fly, it would have been cool, but she was regular...maybe slightly above average...and, call me a moho or a loser, not as attractive as the 13-point 3rd quarter Odom had going.

After about 5-10 minutes I realized I was in deep, so i started asking questions. here are the most importanmt findings:

-- she took a Xanax earlier in her shift, "just because". (which is so Hernando.)
-- she started wearing boy shorts long before the other "followers" saw the girl in Common's "Go" video. (that revelation, mind you, was almost entirely unsolicited)
-- when she was yonger, she wanted to be Jamaican instead of Puerto Rican. (but that's what she gets for being born into a puerto rican family that chooses to live in Brooklyn...as if the Bronx is not right on the other end of Manhattan)

and then the essentials started trickling in...

-- i have two kids
-- but i'm so single

thats when i started thinkin, "uh-oh, I think she wants me to maker her hot and be a father to her children like Ed OG and the Bulldogs. But then she started hittin me with this info..

-- i have a five bedroom house
-- i work here 12 hours a week because i drink free and my friends come here and i like to keep my tips as cash in my pocket and otherwise i'd do nothing all day
-- i drive a 2004 lexus and here is my key in case u think i'm lying and, wait, hear that? that was the alarm sounding, since u seem to be a rather cynical guy.

so i obviously asked how she manages to care for all of this stuff as a less-than part time server at a Spring Hill Applebee's. thats when she hits me with this:

-- i've been married twice
-- both my exes make lots of money
-- i get most of it
-- one pays for the house and the other pays for my car
-- child supprt pays for the kids and our trips and my shopping, hahahahaa. (She chuckled for about 7 seconds, i used that time to 1) roll my eyes like a fag. 2) sneak a peak at the Lakers score. they were down 6. "dumb rican broad from Brooklyn...i mean really, what was keeping you from the Bronx?")

i was kinda speechless, but fascinated. this led to questions about her relationship steez and why she's had two failed marriages before 30.

-- i got married at 19. he was 26. i hated him by the time i was 20. but i had a kid because i was getting something oput of it and i wanted kids anyway and didnt need him to help raise it. (but she needed his dough because that shiftless damsel doesnt wanna work. she wants to take xanex and drink pina coladas)
-- i'm really tough to get along with.
-- at some point i would just get tired of them. they were just a**holes. they didnt cheat or anything.
-- if it (marriage) happens again, it'll be with a guy that like 45 or 50, well established. (and we know why)

she had a very arbitrary and trivial view of what had went down. and i just couldnt heklp but feel that, as my boy Chuck would say, "she won". the law is set up that way. woman says the situation is unliveable, woman gets the kids and the dough. those laws are there for a reason, because, of course, men take advantage of their wives all the time and if it werent for the law, a lot of wives and mothers woul be left in the lurch. but as with everything man-made, these laws are imperfect and there are women that straight-up-n-down take advantage of it.

this girl embodied everything Eric and Parish first spit about. i'll let them ride it out:

That's why she wheels the Benz[P] And you ride Greyhound
Oh, just your luck, they on strike
Take off the wedding band, put out the thumb, time to hitch-hike
And the more you walk the pain from your corns get bigger
(Now you know) Not to mess with a gold digger