Why you shouldn't let your kid watch "Chappelle's Show"

Ok.

That last entry was tough. So, in an effort to lift the dark cloud that’s hovering over this diary, I have a story that may or may not be funny, but I don’t care.

I hope you appreciate it, because I really thought it might be curtains for Andria.

Kay, RAM, and I were shopping at Sam’s Club (because what I really need is 36 pounds of cheese, 800 trash bags, and 3000 tampons), and we were in the refrigerated section. Kay was looking at some deli meats or something, and there was a group of black guys a few feet away, and a couple of them had basketball jerseys and shorts on. One of them made a comment that the Lunchables (the preservative, calorie-laden crap parents give their kids) boxes were racist. I wasn’t listening to the details, I just heard something about it being racist, and the word “cracker” and the box being black. Since I didn’t hear all of it, it didn’t make sense to me (which is not to say if I had heard every word it still would have made any sense).

The guys started goofing off and laughing, and then I heard them start quoting a sketch from Chappelle’s Show – the Rick James sketches.

**Sidebar: At Kay and DMX’s house, we watch these two episodes of Chappelle’s Show pretty frequently. They are the Charlie Murphy episodes (which feature the Rick James sketches), and they’re hilarious. RAM knows all of them word for word.

So, as soon as RAM heard them yelling out “Darkness!” he started laughing, and then he and I started doing the same thing, only we were quoting the Prince basketball game sketch, which is his favorite.

We were right next to the guys, and RAM yells out, “Nice game. Bitches.”

Silence.

All the guys stopped talking, and looked at Kay and I, and then at RAM. RAM, having no idea what was going on, kept going.

“Let’s play a game. The shirts against the blouses!” And then he bursts into laughter, because it’s funny.

The mother of the boys looked at Kay and I and said, “What in the hell did he just call us?”

Uh-oh.

Kay starts back-peddling, trying to explain what it was about, and how it was just a joke. The mother had no clue who the hell Dave Chappelle was, and didn’t see the humor in a five year old calling anyone bitches (I thought it was funny. I guess it’s a good idea I am not a parent).

When it clicked in the boys heads what RAM was talking about, they all laughed, and I breathed sigh of relief that for the third time a week, someone I was with shot off at the mouth and pissed off someone else, and I lived to tell about it.

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So, in my previous entry, my friend John made a rare appearance in the comments section and told me to tell the story of how a bunch of homos taught me how to give a good blowjob.

I was hanging out with John, his then boyfriend Adam, and our other friend Vivian. Vivian was a drag queen, and when in drag, was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. I must have been around 20 at the time.

I won’t go into too much detail, because I don’t want the, um, “manly men” (although a certain someone with pink clothes might not be so offended) who read this to freak out about man on man action, but I will say this: after a very detailed demonstration of technique, not only have I never gotten any kind of complaint, but I have received rave reviews from every single guy.

All 37 of them (if you know what that’s from, you rule).

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This morning Celestia ate shit in front of about six people, and it was hilarious. What a perfect way to start my week.

She had these ridiculously high-heeled shoes on, and was walking in front of my desk, trying to do some supermodel, runway type of walk, and her feet tangled and she fell down.

I giggled, but the best part is, CFO Boss, who is the big dog in this office, laughed right in her face, too.

Awesome.

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I’ve been ordered to spread the word about this diary.

He’s sick.

And funny.