I SHOULD BE ASLEEP

I swear i'm the most long suffering person in the whole entire world, ever. Mhmm. Totally.

Yes i said that with a straight face and i don't care if yalls eyes are rolling, just as long as your reading. :)

Now let me explain why i am blogging at nigh on 2 in the morning ok?

I just finished picking up my sister's dude from some random recording studio. He's some sort of struggling frustrated musician. Actually i don't know if he's struggling or if its more of a hobby, but at this late hour who cares. My eyes are tired and my brain went to bed about 2 hours ago.

Anyhoo my sister called me @ around 12:15 this evening -or should i say morning - talking about:

"can you pick L____ from the studio?"

My immediate thought was she was that she was trippin. Buggin even. I said as much. In fact, the exact words that came out of my mouth were "you MUST be out of your ever lovin' mind."

I mean 10 years ago, i would have been annoyed because i was inconvenienced, but the hour wouldn't have meant anything to me. Now that i'm old as dirt, words like time and bed and sleep have suddenly taken on new meaning. I needs my rest. I wish i could party like a rockstar but that ain't happening. After midnight im in the bed. I might not be asleep but i'm in the bed heading in that direction.

I know, i cry for my youth too.

Of course, despite my protestation, im a real softy which means i made the trek to go pick that fool up. I mean how could i say no? He's a foreigner(london) which means he was all stranger in a strange land and who am i to leave him subject to the vagaries of SEPTA? I mean it would be funny, but it wouldn't be nice. Our public transportation is a doozy even to regular riders, i wouldn't want to put that on a n00b.


So my sister has me driving through all sort of crazy neighborhoods trying to find the "studio" which is really a house on some random block that used to be condemned but is now labeled "up and coming" which means hardcore gentrification. So we're wandering around looking for the address(oh yes she came with me) and its a weird contrast of slum and pristine. Kind of like outfit i left the house with, because at the late hour i did not give a flying -

I was totally scandalous, at least according to my standards. There are certain ways i will and will not walk out of the house, and tonight i was breaking rules left and right. Black tights and black shirt, no socks and some broke down chuck taylors(like the only sneaker i own) a ratty baseball cap. I was praying i didn't see anybody i knew lest i die of shame. I threw on the leather jacket but my butt was still hanging out in a vulgar fashion. Gross. I threw on my signature gold hoops but they could not save the fug that i was presenting to the world(or at least the freaks that come out at night) as i left the house.

Anyway.

We finally find the block and he's standing outside the house/studio looking like tiny tim. All lost and meek looking. It would have been hilarious if i hadn't been already feeling churlish at being put in such a predicament. He was all hugged up against the facade, and if im not mistaken he looked mighty relieved when he saw that the car slowing down was us(and not the random thug)when he gets in the car we're like how long have you been waiting outside?

"45 minutes"

Lord. Why did he wait outside in the hood looking like he just walked out of piccadilly circus? Total mark. Anyway we picked him up and they proceeded to talk to each other(rude!) while i played chauffeur. I swear. The things i do because i love (some)people.