I went to Mr. Lucky’s last night. For those who have never heard of it, it is a small (emphasis on the word small) club right across the street from The Key Arena. I have been hearing good things about this club for a long time, and from a lot of different folks, unfortunately, I did not see any of the positives that so many people always tell me about. The club is small, real small. So small, that I think my kitchen (at my dad’s house) is bigger than the dance floor in this club. Then there was the music…nothing special there. Sounded like I was sitting on my couch watching a real long episode of 106 & Park, except there was no fine ass Free anywhere to be found. Ironically though, with all that, I still had fun…a lot of fun. I have to thank my folk for that.
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Now when I say folk, I do not mean folk as in somebody that you go out with due to a lack of options, I mean folk as in that person you can go out with, act a completely ridiculous, and he’ll be right there next to you acting just as ridiculous. So, that is what I did. I acted as ridiculous as I possibly could. Just imagine, a short five foot and some odd inches light-skinned black man who cannot dance bouncing around like he just lost his mind, and that, was me last night. I was bouncing from over there, to over here, back over there, and everywhere else. I looked foolish, but felt good…just how it should be. I really did not have a choice though, because the club alone was ZzzzZzzZzZ and then some. However, that is enough about the club, onto more (but less entertaining) stuff.
I am putting myself on restriction. Yup, that is right, restriction. I am now officially the oldest person I know on restriction. No more clubbin’, bloggin’, kickin’ it, or anything else until I get myself to an acceptable place with my schooling. I am not doing horrible (yet), but I am doing worse than I would like to be doing. So, to fix it, I am enforcing a self-imposed restriction on myself until I satisfy my own expectations. Lucky me.
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