Y’all. Why is going to Brooklyn such a PROCESS. I cannot. I love my Brooklyn Buddies, but you just gon’ hafta visit me in the city because every time I try to go over there, Brooklyn is like “Negro please. You are not welcome.”
Ketan and I are taking various breaks from our hurricane snacks to play on Facebook, catch up on R&B Divas on TVOne.com, and get up-to-date hurricane footage. See, without the news, I wouldn’t know what was going on with the hurricane. I couldn’t possibly get this information from looking out of the window at all of the trees doing the Shoulda Lean right now.
Oh but look what happened in my friend’s neighborhood in Brooklyn!
And people say NYC has no trees. What do you call that thing on the sidewalk, huh?
That is a condiment container in the bathroom of this little cafe in Brooklyn by the name of Outpost. What’s in it? Handsoap.
In theory, I guess this is a cute idea, but in actual practice….No. I’ve seen some of the people coming out of the bathroom at Outpost and I’m not trynna think about them pooping, wiping, and then picking up the bottle of handsoap! I get squicked out enough just pushing a little pump handle in the bathroom, but I have to wrap my whole hand around this possibly doo-doo infested bottle just to get some soap!? Yeah, I know I’m about to wash my hands right after, but I don’t need those 3 seconds of somebody else’s poop hand germs in my palm.
Standing in a field, surrounded by delicious-smelling food, and unable to eat anything. That is my personal definition of Hell. Look at this video I shot after we were completely fed up with standing in lines.
Let me explain to you what a shitshow this entire ordeal was.
I mean, downtown Brooklyn isn’t the HOOD hood, but that movie theater on Court Street is definitely a few shades left of classy. And that’s why I’m going!
One thing I refuse to do: go see a movie on opening weekend. Too many people, too much talking, and I cannot deal. And it’s always black folks. But Steve Harvey’s I-Don’t-Know-Who-Decided-This-Was-A-Good-Movie-Idea flick is coming out tonight and I feel like I will enjoy it so much more if there are loud black people talking to the screen.
So.
We’re gonna get drunk on the Promenade, wander our bougie asses on over there, and enjoy the show! Both shows—the film itself and whatever the audience is gonna give me.
Hopefully, if I make it back to Manhattan in one piece, I’ll have some fun things to report.
Brooklyn still hates me and does not want me over there.
