Love thy neighbor, unless he’s a murderer who gets drunk and knocks on the neighbors doors.

Okay Okay Okay, I know it’s been a while and I suck at posting to this blog, but I’m back! Because I have a story I just HAVE to share with y’all. It’s pretty fucking ridiculous, so get ready.

So Monday night, in good ole Nashville, it started to snow and ice and stuff. No biggie, but it kept me home for the night. So I went to bed, and I woke up around midnight to the sound of someone banging on my front door. And I looked at my phone and looked around my room in a panic, and did what in normal person would do…pulled the covers over my head and hoped they wouldn’t find me if they broke in. Then they knocked again, so I grabbed my baseball bat and cell phone and preceded to…get back under the covers. But after that the knocking had stopped. They must’ve known I was armed and dangerous, right?

Then comes Tuesday morning. I woke up, got ready for work, and went outside to start my car and boom…it had really really iced and snowed overnight. Like, hardcore’ish (not really that bad at all). But our apartment parking lot was a sheet of ice. So I was like, “maaaaybe I’ll wait to leave for work” and went back inside. And when I walked inside, I heard a lot of cars screeching around from the main street in front of my apartment. So I ran onto the balcony to see what was going on, and it was nothing but ice and cars driving slow and sliding around. And my neighb’, a cool chick that’s right next door to me and has been for years, was on her balcony and she was like “girl, did you hear the knock on the doors last night?! Did you answer?!” And I was like “Nah girl, I’m chicken shit..I was hiding under my covers.” And she was like, “I saw it on the news this morning! That man who killed his wife a few months ago was drunk and knocking on all our doors trying to get in! And the cops found him lying drunk in the snow!” Immediately I was all “Whaaaaat?!?!” Because I don’t watch the news, for reasons like this, and had no clue what she was talking about. So I ran inside, and started googling stuff on the local news. And what do ya know?! It showed a picture of the man who was knocking on our doors, and who killed his wife in April, and the picture was of the man who lives across the hall from me!

Apparently this man, Randy Maidens, killed his rich doctor wife back in April in their Brentwood home. They said she was found dead, shot 10 times, and he had cleaned up the mess and fled the scenes and hid in the woods overnight.

Whaaat?! Yeah. I never knew anything about this until now. And he’s their main suspect and is being charged with the murder or going to court for it or whatever the lingo is, September 2014. Long ways away. And when he was arrested earlier this year, his bond was set for 2 million dollars and a judge said that’s ridiculous because no one would be able to post a bond that high, and lowered it. And back in June he made bail and got out. And crazy enough, his wife’s family didn’t want him in their house or near their child, so he had to find somewhere to live. And apparently, he chose my apartment complex…in the apartment right across the hall from me.

Now he’s lived there since late summer…probably July/August’ish. I just remember it being hot outside because he would run around our parking lot, get all sweaty and leave his clothes on his balcony. And he wears those shoes that look like feet and are supposed to help you run better, I think. I don’t know…I don’t run. I did, however, run last night from my car to my door in fear that he would pop out somewhere and kill me. Like, I invisioned myself running to my door and him opening up his and coming towards me while I tried to unlock my door, and then crying and screaming and banging on the door to open, like in a scary movie. I just know that I’ve thought something was weird about him ever since he moved in. Like, he doesn’t drive and has no car. Some old lady always comes over and gets him and drives him places. And she’s OLD. I always thought they were hooking up and doing sex, because she’s over there like, all the time…and it’s a one bedroom apartment and I’m perverted and always thought they were hooking up. Looking back, it’s probably his mom or grandma, the only two people who could still love him after he shot and killed his wife. Besides the old lady and sweaty clothes on the balcony, he’s just a weird dude. Like, most neighbors say hi when they pass in the parking lot or hall or mailbox, but not this dude. He avoids eye contact and creeps away.

Now here’s what happened Monday night/Tuesday morning. He was “drunk”, went knocking on a bunch of neighbors doors, and tried to get into some people’s apartments. And it ended when he went to the building next to ours and knocked on a guys door and the guy wouldn’t let him in. The guy said that Randy talked for like 30 minutes trying to convince him to open the door, he called the cops, cops showed up but Randy had left, so the cops left. Then Dandy Randy went back to dudes apartment, in a new outfit, said he was a police officer and tried again to get dude to open his door. Dafuqqqq? So he called the cops again, and when they got there they found ole Randall, dirty and in the snow. And he said that he wasn’t trying to get into anyone’s apartment or knocking on doors, he just wanted to be in the snow. Seriously, all together now, DAFUQQQ?! And the police said that on their way to the station, dirty ole Randy was like “hey let’s play a game and see who can pass out first?” And when the cops said “No you stupid fucking wife killer” (I might’ve just added a few words in there) Ran Ran put his seatbelt around his neck and went head first into the floor to try to make himself pass out. You know what’s next…DAFUQQQQ?!

So after reading these stories, and seeing his picture, I decided to call the apartment complex office to see if this was really my neighbor. So I called and one of the girls answered and I was like “Listen…I have a dumb question. I’m a resident here, and was wondering if that guy who was knocking on our doors and killed his wife and stuff lives here? Like is he a resident?” And the girl was like “what’s your apartment number?” and I told her, and she was like “oh..hang on a sec” and transferred me to the manager. And so when the manager got on, I asked her the same thing. And she was like “I can’t legally say if he does or doesn’t…” So I was like “HE DOES???!?? HE LIVES HERE?!?” And she was like “Legally, I can’t say he does…” And I was like “Listen, he lives across the hall from me doesn’t he?! It’s him!! Why would y’all let someone like that move here?!” And she was like “Well if it was him, he hasn’t been charged or convicted, so we have to. Let’s say you get arrested for a DUI. If you haven’t been charged or served time for it or if it’s not on your record yet, then you’re allowed to live here.” And I was like “You can’t compare a DUI to shooting someone 10 times.” And we went back and forth and she just kept saying that “legally I can’t say if it is or isn’t him”.

But then I saw an interview of his lawyer from in front of my apartment building, and read some more, and it’s official…bitch, he IS my neighbor.

How in the world, can someone who killed his wife be allowed to get out of jail till the trial court date stuff? Just because he has money?! That’s ridiculous. People get caught with drugs and spend more time in jail or have harsher punishments than this. This dude is out running around, drinking, trying to get into apartments, hanging out at local bars..but it’s cool. He had enough money to pay the $750,000 bond. Stupid dick. And he was released from jail yesterday since it was just public intoxication.

Do y’all know what it’s like having a wall separate you from a murderer? Or even just a “suspected” murderer. I can stand at my door, spit my gum out, and it would land on his door. I can hear him thru the walls. I hear his shower running. It freaks me out more than y’all will ever know! Someone said “well try not to think about it”. Fuck y’all! I have a very active imagination as it is…this just adds fuel to the fire. And someone said “well he’s still innocent. Like, he said he didn’t do it”. OHHH bullshit. Anyone can say they’re not guilty or didn’t do something. “Ames did you take the last cookie out of the cookie jar?”…”No”. 99.9% of the time, that’s a fucking lie. Damn straight I’ll take the last cookie out of the jar, I ain’t too proud! So just because he says he didn’t shoot his wife 10 times, clean up the evidence and hide in the woods, doesn’t mean he’s innocent. Assholes. I even admitted that if I had gotten the balls to look thru my peephole Monday night when he was knocking, that I would’ve opened the door because I knew him as my neighbor. Not the crazy ass guy from the news. But not now! “Can I borrow some sugar, neighbor girl?” “No killer neighbor man, you may not…” What if I had answered the door and he did something?! Y’all better believe if that son of a bitch tries to do something to someone else in our apartment or kills me, I’ll haunt every mother fucker who had something to do with him being released and our apartment people for letting him live there. Because “legally” they can’t so no. Bitches, how about morally.

Basically, internet friends, what I’m trying to say is…don’t trust your neighbors or anyone in your life! Ha. JK, you can trust people. But if someone appears creepy and strange, chances are, they’ve killed someone…? Anyways.

Love thy neighbor, my ass.

How I ended up with a yoga dvd, the L word, David Sedaris and Jock Jams.

So I’ve been trying to get healthy’ish, and had the idea that I should walk to places more often than drive. Which, I live relatively close to a few places, but yeah…I don’t live in the city near everything. But earlier this afternoon, I decided I wanted to go to McKay’s, a huge used bookstore that sells books, dvds, cds…everything. And I was like “Ames, just walk there…it’s not that far away. And you walk to Boost, which is like the same distance, but different direction. Yeah girl! Walk!” So I walked.

And it was about 20-25 minutes into my walk there, that I realized I had made a dumb decision. Boost Fitness takes 10-15 minutes to walk to. My fat ass was pushing close to 30 minutes and McKay’s was no where in sight. Y’all, I was tired. Like, I would’ve hitch hiked. My friend Jamie text me a little bit ago and said he was driving on that street and that if he would’ve seen me, then he would’ve stopped. Yeah, thanks J-Money…but the thought doesn’t help my out of shape ass from being tired and sore.

So I made it to the store. Walked around, shopped, relaxed, and left. And started my trek back to my apartment. I forgot that I was going to have to walk to the Mt. Everest hill of Bellevue to get back home, and was pretty pissed off when I got to it. But I survived. Which, I should also add, about Bellevue is that we have the most randomly placed sidewalks, ever. Y’all, I would walk for like 30 feet on a sidewalk, then trip into a ditch. Walk for 200 feet, and boom…sidewalk. Dear Bellevue sidewalk maker foundation group…fix the fucking sidewalks! Love, Ames.

When I finally made it home, I had been gone for over two fucking hours. Absolutely ridiculous. So I decided to get in my car and drive to McKay’s, and see how far it is. So I would know how far I walked and all. Y’all…I walked 4.5 miles to and from this store today! And I’m waaaayyy out of shape. I need to start working out more. 4.5 miles, and all I have to show for it is a beginners yoga dvd (so I can start getting healthy and in shape), a David Sedaris book (because he’s hilarious), season 2 of The L Word (because like my friend Jamie said, I’m officially a dyke) and a Jock Jams cd (because why wouldn’t you buy a Jock Jams cd if you saw one for sale?? Helllooooo 90’s basketball team warmup music!!)

I probably should be saying I’m doing the yoga dvd, but I’m not. I’m watching The Heat. What?? I walked more than a 5k today, friends, and The Heat is funny.

Ames, how’d you sleep last night? *knock knock* who’s there?!

“Ames, how’d you sleep last night?”- World

Well, I’m glad you asked. I didn’t sleep worth a shit. WHY?

I got home last night, watched some tv, and went to bed around 11’ish. Sounds like a great night, right? Wrong. At around 11:20, someone knocked on my door, and from that point on, I was too afraid to sleep. Okay, so there I was, about to fall asleep, when I heard the knock. And it freaked me out, so I text my friends to make sure it wasn’t them. Because I missed them banging on my door last week, so I thought this might have been a drunken random repeat. But they said they were at home. And like 20ish seconds after the first knock, the person knocked again, but kind of louder. And I was like, homo you ain’t. So my first quick action move was to put a shirt on. Because I was hot and took my shirt off, and I love sleeping topless. But if there was a murderer fixing to bust in and kill me, I didn’t want the police to find me topless. So I leaned down from bed and grabbed a shirt off the floor. Then I tiptoed to my bedroom door, and shut the bitch. Then hurried back to bed and put the covers over my head, so I could NEVER be found by any intruder. It was like when Macauley Culkin pulled the covers over his head in Home Alone when he was all “I’m not afraid anymore!! Did you hear me?! I said, I’m not afraid anymore!!!” And that creepy old man walked up and scared him and he ran inside, up to his parents room and covered his head. That’s what it was like. Except I’m a grown adult, in my own apartment, afraid of a knock at the door. So my imagination was running wild, because I watch entirely too many scary movies and shows. Like, it’s probably considered unnatural or unhealthy the amount of weird shit I watch. But oh well. All I know is, I was terrified. And y’all know how when you get really scared and it makes you have to shit? Yeah, I was that scared. Like, I had to shit so bad. But I was too afraid to walk out of my room and down the hall to the restroom, because I knew that there was someone waiting outside my door, just ready to butcher me.

So I stayed in bed thinking about what all the knock could have been. I had the dishwasher on, so I thought “could it be the people downstairs coming up to say that my dishwasher had leaked and thru the floor into their apartment?!” No, they moved out. Besides, the apartment people would have been contacted and maintenance wouldn’t have responded in such a quick time, and they know to call me…for reasons like this. “Is this fixing to be like Law and Order: SVU?!?” No one would want to rape me, but if someone does bust in here, I need an exit strategy. I could jump out of the window, onto the tree outside, and shimmy my way down. Or just fall to the ground and roll down the hill and run away. “Was it the guy upstairs to let me know that he dropped a lit candle and the apartment is fixing to go up in flames??!” No, because I don’t smell smoke. I took my smoke detector off the wall a few months ago, because it was making a god awful noise one night and I was drunk and not in the mood for all that mess, and I haven’t really put it back together yet. Whoops…
smoke detector. Who needs one?

So I just listened closely to hear his alarm, and I didn’t hear anything. But then I remembered that my new upstairs neighbor is partially deaf, and he probably wouldn’t hear anything either, so I shouldn’t depend on him. “What if it’s the creepy Kevin Spacey neighbor from across the hall, and he knows that I now call him the creepy Kevin Spacey neighbor and he wants to share words about that?!??!” No, I doubt he reads my blog. He doesn’t even have the time to find a real fucking parking spot, what makes me think he has the time to sit and read my bull. “I need something to protect myself??” Ames, it’s been an hour. I doubt anyone’s coming in. But just in case, hold on to the Chicago Cubs baseball bat for protection. My parents gave it to me, because well…I like Chicago, and it’s good protection. As long as the intruder is cool with coming close, because the bat is only so big, so unless I plan on throwing it at he/she, they need to be in close range.

I don’t know how long I ended up lying there in bed thinking of scenarios, because I woke up a few hours later spooning a pillow, with the baseball in my bed, still wearing a t-shirt. Either way, I didn’t get much sleep last night. So I think a nap will be in my near future. And that, pals, is how my night of slumber went.


My Finding Nemo died when he came to work with me.

I meant to post this yesterday, but forgot to hit publish, because I’m a failure at life? JK. But seriously, this was my morning yesterday…

So y’all, listen!! Please. I was pulling out of my apartment this morning and saw some gross looking bug on the hood of my car, which I now know was a praying mantis, and I was like “eww” and expected it to fly off once I started speeding down my street, but it didn’t! This badass mantis totally lowered down like “I’m holding on, Ames!! Lessssgo!!!”
Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go

But once I got to the interstate I was like “holy shit…I just accidentally pulled a Finding Nemo! Did I steal the parent? Or the baby? Or a friend???? His family and friends will be looking for him in Bellevue and his badass self will be in downtown Nashville! How will they find him??? I just ruined their family!” So I didn’t drive over 60 the whole way here and clearly I named him, Nemo. I would have been an idiot not to name him that. And I thought about his bug family and friends trying to travel down I-40 to come find him, and imagined the real Nemo’s dad and Dory swimming to try to find him at, P. Sherman 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney, Australlia. Would the bugs know how to find my office?? I didn’t leave any goggles behind for them to read my addy. So I decided to capture my new Nemo, before I knew he was a praying mantis and how mean those little shits are, once I got to work and put him in a cup and save his life and then take him back home this afternoon to be reunited with his loved ones!!! But when I got to work, I went to take a pic of him before I put him in the cup, and once I took the pic, Nemo jumped at me and I got scared and swatted really hard and like…I think I killed Nemo.

This was the last pic of Nemo, before he came at me and with my phone in hand, I slapped his ass away.

RIP Nemo

I felt bad about it for a couple of hours, then I found out that praying mantis, aka Nemo, was the bug that is like the bully in the bug world. And eats other animals and kills shit and sometimes, the female eats the male during or after sex. Whaaaat?!?! In the words of my manager when we found out about the eating the man during sex, “Talk about S&M!”. Rihanna definitely didn’t mention that part in her song though. “Sex in the air, I don’t care I love the smell of it. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me…almost as much as eating my mate alive!” whaaat?! Yeah, so I’m not that sad that I killed Nemo after he survived the 20+ minute drive to work. Man, my Finding Nemo story totally took ended up out in left field, and definitely didn’t end as sweet as Pixar’s Finding Nemo. My bad, boo boo’s.

My new bald creepy Kevin Spacey/Britney Spears neighbor

Holy moly, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted on here! I bet y’all are wondering how it’s been since my last post about coming out. Well, things have been awesome! I wish I would’ve done it years ago, but I guess it’s better late than never! Right? Right. I have had, for the most part, nothing but love and support from my friends and family. I am blessed. There have been a few not so nice remarks, but I’m trying to learn how to ignore those people and their opinions. I’m not very good at it, but I’m trying MFers. But what I really wanted to tell y’all about was that I think my Queen Latifah has moved. Or died.

If you’ve read my blog or Facebook before, then you know about my cray cray neighb that lives (lived) above me who was mega obnoxious and loud and who parked in the very front spot in front of our building, that’s not even a real parking spot. It’s like the emergency spot. But anyways, in case you haven’t heard about her and that situation, refer to this:

So, yeah, she sucked. But I came home from vacation a few weeks ago, and her car was gone! hallelujah! However, while I was on vacation, some new mega creepy dude moved in across the hall from me. And he now parks in the front non-parking spot. I refuse to complain on him though because this mother fucker is legit the creepiest man I’ve seen in a long time. And that says a lot coming from me, because I’ll invite strangers home from the bar to hangout and watch movies. Like, I love strangers. Except this dude. He looks like someone from a scary movie. Like the person doing the rapes and murders. Like, he probably touches himself to pictures of little kdis. Like, he probably masturbates with an animal skull. Like, he probably has a collection of trolls in his underwear drawer. Like, I came home late a few nights ago, and one of my neighbors was walking out of the building while he was walking in, and he totally knocked her shoulder and didn’t even say sorry. And she’s one of the ghetto girls, so that’s someone who most people (I) tend to be polite to. But nope, not bald creeper man. He legit looks and acts like a Law and Order: SVU suspect. I’ve been trying to snap a picture, but I haven’t been able to. So to give you a visual of who I’m dealing with now…

My Kevin Spacey'ish creeper bald man neighb.

No, my new creepy neighb isn’t the real Kevin Spacey, but that’s kind of what he looks like. And when he gets angry, I’m guessing he looks like Britney Spears when she went bald and crazy…

Angry bald britney spears

Now I don’t know if my apartment people did a thorough background check on homedog, but I’m thinking we’re going to have to do some detective work ourselves, boo boo’s. So I’m going to find out this guys name and we’re going to get to work. Until then, be prepared for anything. And if you never hear from me again, it’s because I’m dead in that guys apartment for trying to be nosey and snoop around. Or because I don’t have internet at my apartment, so it’s hard to get on here a lot. LOL. But seriously. Nice talking to y’all, and I pinky promise I’ll try to post something else soon and not wait another two months. Because I know how much y’all have missed my long random rambles (not). Love y’all, bye.

So, I have this friend…

So, I have this friend that I’ve known for a long time…who is gay. She’s been struggling with it her whole life and never knew how to tell anyone. Because she, like everyone else, was born this way. But she said it’s been one of the biggest burdens ever, because she’s kept it a secret forever. She’s suffered from depression since she was in high school, and has been on meds for over 10 years to help with it. And she knows that some people have probably assumed it. Some of her family knows, and they support her and still love her, because she really is the same person she’s been her entire life. Nothing has changed, at all. Some of her friends know too, and they support her 100%, because they also know that she’s the same person. But what is starting to eat away at her and kill her spirit and hurting her heart is that she can’t decide if she should come out to the rest of her friends and family. Because she doesn’t want to disappoint anyone or lose friends over it, or embarrass her family.

We come from a very very small town in Tennessee, so she’s not sure how people will take it. Some of our friends that have come out in the past have been treated differently by our friends since doing so. Some of our friends stop inviting our gay friends on trips and to clubs and to a lot of things we do, because they don’t want a gay person there, because they say they don’t want to be hit on. But the thing is, just because someone’s gay doesn’t mean they’re going to hit on you or try anything with you. Does every person of the opposite sex do that to you? No, because not everyone is attracted to you. And if they haven’t tried anything with you yet, then they’re not going to.

But she hasn’t wanted to come out because she doesn’t want to be treated differently by our friends. And she knows if they don’t accept her then they’re not even real friends. But still, it’ll break her heart. She still wants to be invited everywhere like she has been and treated the same, because she really is the same person as she’s always been. So she sometimes thinks she should just suck it up and keep it to herself. But she also wants to tell people, because she’s living a lie and keeping it a secret is killing her more than anyone knows. She knows that it’s really no ones business, but it’s like the weight of the world is on her and she can’t take it anymore. So she doesn’t know if she should come out or not. It sucks for her. She’s been sad recently debating on what to do.

She really just wants people to still love her and know she’s the same person. She’s still silly, loud, sometimes obnoxious, witty, immature, clumsy, loves animals and babies and kids, still likes doing random spontaneous things and can’t dance to save her life (unless she’s drunk)…wants to be a rap video dancing girl though, she’s still a phenomenal drinker and can out drink most men, loves to write, loves to shop and quite possibly the best target shopper ever, thinks farts and burps and inappropriate jokes are funny, is the worst cook ever and still needs to learn, still loves helping people and volunteering and helping the homeless, she’s still an excellent road trip and vacation companion, still loves life and laughter, but most of all loves her family and friends more than anything in the world and really hopes they’d still love her and accept her and still treat her as if she never came out as gay. She just doesn’t know what to do. What do y’all think?

Oh…And by friend, I mean me.

I have been waiting for a long time to tell y’all this, and figure why not just go ahead and do it. And it’s Pride Month, so perfect timing. And hey, it could always be worse…at least I didn’t kill anyone? I just hope it helps me be less depressed and stressed, because I have enough of that right now in my life. This blog and telling y’all this could possibly be one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made, or the best. Who fucking knows?! I know how some people feel towards gay people, and there will be some people in life who will hurt or hate me, but oh well. I can’t change or “pray the gay away”. I can’t and don’t want to change who I am. I really was born this way. I want to be able to be me and be happy, because I haven’t been recently…And I hate being depressed and sad. I want to know what it feels like to be myself and not have to hide or lie about who I am.

This was one of the hardest things to say. But knowing my parents and sister and other family and friends still love me makes me realize I’m okay. I really just hope y’all can still treat me the same and love me for me, because I’m still Ames, and because I do love y’all.

“It matters not who you love, where you love, why you love, when you love or how you love, it matters only that you love.” -John Lennon

Now, who wants to take a road-trip?!

Well…here goes nothings…

How I ended up in the projects of Nashville. What? Carpe the Hell out of this Diem!

Now, this is a story, all about how my life got flipped turned upside down. And I’d like to take a minute, just sit right there, I’ll tell you how I…ended up in the projects of Nashville. Okay, that didn’t really work out as well as Fresh Prince of Bel Air, but fuck it. I’m not a real rapper. But I did end up in the projects a couple of nights ago, and was going to tell y’all about it. Get excited, because it’s not really that exciting of a story.

So I’ve been in a major funk mood for a week or so, and my lovely friends have been helping me get out of it, even without knowing, just by talking and getting me out of the apartment (womp womp womp). I also decided I need to keep my blah moods off of Facebook, because my moods are good at making other people worry and doesn’t help cheer them up, and I’d rather cheer people up than make them worry…so I’ll keep my moods to myself now. And post stuff like this instead:

Now the day started with me going with a friend to a super cute little vintage art sale type thing. It’s just a bunch of booths set up with local artist who sale their stuff. It’s awesome. One of our friends had a booth there, so we went for her and to shop. But, best of all, there was a booth set up selling beer and wine. Score. That’s where I went, and threw down $8 for a big cup of wine. We walked around, I chugged it and soon became parched and needed another. Boom. 8 more bucks for a big cup of wine. By now I had become friendly with the two alcohol booth workers. So we went back to our friends booth, and I was like “I’m going to go throw my cup away”, and the trashcan was conveniently located next to…the booze booth. So I walked up and they were like “You want more?” And I was like, “yeah, nahhh…” but then asked how much a bottle would be. I have no shame. And when they told me $10, I was like “BRB!” and went over to my friends to borrow some cash. And without them knowing, they contributed to my alcoholism. Because they were all kinda “wtf’ish” when I walked back over with a bottle of wine. That’s when I knew my afternoon would be better than any afternoon last week. Because I, Ames, went to an art fair and walked out with a bottle of wine and super badass pillow made by my friend Lisa.

carpe the hell out of the diem with wine

(Y’all should seriously check out her stuff…if you have a Facebook Like her page!/LisaMarieInvitationsandDesign?fref=ts and if you don’t have a Facebook, or do, whatever, then here’s her ETSY She has the cutest stuff and is going to start selling the pillows soon. I don’t know if she wants a business plug from a blog talking about going to the projects, but…oh well.)

Okay, back to my story. So I was also invited out to Mercy Lounge to listen to a band Friday night and I was like, “Alright I’ll go”. But later that night when I got home, the wire on my bra broke and was poking my tit and I was like, “yeah, I’m not going to go…I’m going to stay home and drink wine and watch tv and be braless all night”. So my friend Suzy stopped by and she said she was invited to some party and asked if I wanted to go. Now, I really didn’t want to, but I had drunk 1.5 bottles of wine and a glass of wine from my boxed wine selection and a shot of Fireball. I’m classy as fuuuuck. So I decided to go. So we headed to the party and quickly realized that we weren’t in our type of neighborhood, and that’s when Suzy said we were in the projects. And yes, we definitely were.

We weren’t really sure about going to it after that, because two white girls from Cheatham County don’t really fit in with that type of place. But we’re pretty much down for anything. So we kept heading that way, but first stopped by Suzy’s work to handle some business in the restroom. Because let’s face it, the last place you want to sit your ass is on a toilet in the ‘hood. And normally we’ll pop a squat outside, but I have a feeling that’s even more dangerous than the toilet seat. So we did our business and started heading to the “house party”. Woop Woop, raise the roof. But on our way there, she called one of her friends who had invited us, and he was like “yeah, we called a cab…we’re not staying here!” and we were right down the street, and heading that way, so we said we would pick them up. And as we pulled closer, 11ish at night, there stood the two white people waiting to jump into our car. And they did. And we left and went to her friend Pauls house. Who is now my Facebook friend, so we’re basically BFF’s now.

So we hung out at his place for a little bit, where I consumed more beer and another big shot of Fireball. And around 12ish we decided to roll out of there and head home. But we both decided it would be mega hilarious to stop by that party, and take a pic of us there and send it to him. Like, LOL funny. So we did. Now, I was completely drunk. I was at the 2ish bottles of wine, three shots of Fireball and a six-pack of beer…because when I get drunk, I also like to feel out of control. So less drunk Suzy should’ve been like “eh, bad idea for two white girls to drive back into the projects to take a picture at a party.” But, she’s like me and we don’t understand the concept of dangerous because we don’t watch the news.

where the party at
Suzy, drunk me, Suzy’s drunk friend Matt…I think.

We got back to the party and was walking to the house from our car and heard “fire crackers”…but we’re quite certain that it was more of a gun cracker than a fire cracker, but whatevs’. One of Suzy’s other friends that had invited her to the party earlier, had decided to stay, so luckily we had him there too. So we walked into the party like we were personally invited to it, and here’s where it gets interesting…

Rap battle, whaaat?!

Rap battle, whaaaat?! Yes, we walked right into a freestyle rap battle. And if you know me, then you know that I am 100% obsessed with this kind of stuff. Like, 8 Mile is one of my fav movies and is the reason that I want to move to Detroit and become a rapper like Eminem. Refer back to this if you weren’t aware of that passion…

So needless to say, once we realized shit was getting real in there, we stayed for a while. It was awesome, awesome. And we were invited to some rap thing they’re doing at some club in a couple weeks. Annnd I literally had the best night ever. I lost my Cheatham County white girl status that night, and I couldn’t be happier. And that, angel faces, is how I ended up in the projects of Nashville.