Let's start w/ the most recent: Dave & Busters Last night

I'm a teacher, and while I do have MANY complaints about the educational system as we know it, I do appreciate the fact that it allows me to fritter away my time in weekly increments disguised as Thankgiving, Christmas, and Summer break. My current frittering session is Christmas break, so I decided it'd be cool to hang out with some of my friends. In an effort to protect their identity (laughing to myself) we'll just collectively refer to them as "ABC." Anyway, ABC and I all met up at Dave and Busters last night for a little late happy hour, people watching, and our weekly ritual of updating the tally of "suspect" (read: prolly gay) black men. We were sitting in the north pole of D & Bs (directly under one of the monster vents) struggling to maintain our sexy posture, all the while sharpening our gaydar skills. The table convo went somethin like this:

A: (a lil bent from that STRONG blue martini) So u know if u yell out "trade" and a straight-lookin man looks up, that means he's really down low.

Me: (genuinely interested) What? Fo real?

A: Yeah girl. A then proceeds to yell out "TRADE! TRADE!" the liquor adding just enough volume to her voice to cause a little scene.

C: (after laughter subsides) Uh...ol' boy over there just looked up when you were yelling.

Me: Who? Not the cutie in the pink shirt with all the swagger?

C: Yep

All: Damn (lot's of head shaking)

So after a while, the conversation subsided, besides me repeatedly asking about how long it had been since I order those nachos, my aggitation growing as each second dragged by. (C quickly reminded me it had only been 9 minutes, while A rolled her eyes and mumbled "Here we go with this again..")
All of a sudden, we hear someone holler out behind us "Fried shrimp platter??" so we all rotate to connect a face to the voice. And there he was: posing a few yards away in a slightly-ironed uniform shirt, plastic name tag, and an overall look that screamed, "I still live with my momma rent free." It was Kelvin. So I call Kelvin over to the table to find out if 1) Can I pull out my pistol and shoot this AC vent so my nips will stop offending my friend thru my shirt; and 2) Are all the servers allergic to our area? Cuz nobody's over here checkin on us. So Kelvin answers my questions, then asks if A and I are related:

A: (grinning) Why do we look alike?

Kelvin: Yeah yall look like sisters

A: Aww...(pausing) Oh wait, look @ Kelvin! He got TWO earrings! (Kelvin then starts profilin, showing off both earrings one at a time. I felt bad for Kelvin. He clearly didn't get that black-man memo with the subject heading "Two earrings= Not a good look"

Kelvin: (still grinning with a false sense of triumph) So are you taken?

Me: Who me? ( I hesistated--had to mentally check my Facebook relationship status). No, I'm not taken.

Kelvin: So can I get yo number? (yes, ladies and gentlemen. Very audacious, cuz I CLEARLY don't live with MY momma rent free)

Me: Umm...you cute Kelvin, but I think you're too---

A: (cutting me off) Girl give that boy yo number! He's a cutie. And he's real nice (that damn martini she had was NO joke)

I think at this point C was at the bar and B hadn't arrived yet. So no voice of reason @ the table.

So obviously temporary insantity is a viable defense, because I actually gave this boy my number! Now in hindsight, my greediness made the decision for me: I figured I could just text Kelvin when I was hungry and get that employee discount on some chicken strips and get the hook up on some game cards. Boy was I wrong!

And that's when it got bizarre...

Kelvin explains that not only is he a food service engineer (waiter/ busboy), but he also sings! And he has CDs on sale for $2!!! Now folks, I know what you're thinking....and you're right. It gets worse. Mr. Two Earrings actually asked me to PURCHASE one of his CDs!

Me: Oh hell no! So lemme get this straight: I give you my number and you ask me for $2???

Kelvin: Nah I'm just sayin...(voice trails off) Got that child support to pay

Me: WHAT!! (The whole thing is pure humor to me at this point- so I feel justified when I start f*ing with him) Ok, ok...well kick somethin then

A: (with WAAAY too much enthusiasm) Yeah! Yeah!

And this is where it got even MORE bizarre...

Kelvin was so talented that he didn't need instrumentals for his song. He just started pounding the bassline into our table with his fist (I think A and I both jumped back a little when he started). His song was.......hmmmm...how can I put this....RAW. At this point, C had returned to the table, so he sang to an audience of six raised eyebrows.

Kelvin: (crooning) When I put in she said "Ohhh" (almost falsetto, but not quite). When I pulled it out, she said "Nooooo-oh-oh-oh" (Kelvin had more lyrics, but I think those crass lyrics deafened all of us at this point, so I don't remember what else the song was about)

C, A & Me: (fake clapping) Wow...Yay...that was good *sneakily rolling eyes*

Me: Alright Kelvin, I'll buy your CD

Kelvin: Ok, I gotta get it out of my car

Me: (naively) But Kelvin, how you gonna leave? arent' you on the clock?

Kelvin: Oh I'll go get it... for YOU. For free (guess I was supposed to be impressed). Just find me before you leave...

Not too long after, B arrives and we fill her in on the details of my latest episode of the Houston Twilight Zone. We enjoy our drinks for awhile, and then my nachos arrive. All is well with the world.

As we're leaving, I notice that Kelvin is nowhere to be found and I STILL didn't get my eight quarters worth of music. But then, I see him: my lil cutie standing on the curb as we leave--anxiously looking toward the parking lot entrance. And that's when we all realize that Kelvin didn't have a car. Which is why I never got my $2 CD. He was prolly waitin on his landlord/mamma to pick him up. Which explains why he only mumbled two words to me as I passed him on my way to my car. Poor baby. But you did it to yourself. You KNEW you were outta your league. Let's review: waiter, two earrings, child support, no car, makin beats on the bar table, pretending to ask about fried shrimp just to get my number. Sad. And you know what's worse folks? This was only ONE out of the TWO bizarre encounters for the night. I need an intervention....