バーベキュー (The Barbecue)
Last Monday was Memorial Day. Contrary to popular belief, it is not a celebration of the country's vast amount of memorials. It's actually a day that is meant to honor fallen soldiers. Usually this is done by getting shit faced, eating grilled meat, and waking up next to a stranger.
I went to my homey Anovia's Memorial Day BBQ at a nice ass house over in Columbia Heights. The house was nice as fuck. I was shocked because I did not expect to be eating grilled meat in such a beautiful' house. It could have been on MTV Cribs. It was four floors of pimp shit. I'm talking about artifacts from all sorts of countries. And there was a deck on the roof where you could look out and spit on people walking on the sidewalk. I didn't do that, but if I had more to drink and someone triple dog dared me, I would have considered it. I may or may not want a house like that in the future. It would be cool to have a pad full of treasures I've collected from my exploits across the eleven seas (there's definitely more than seven...check a map), but I would hate to have to clean that place.
Anyway, there is a point to this story. At the BBQ I was drinking my ass off and being extremely social like my Japan days. Someone asked me what my deal was and I told them the whole shebang-a-bang. That I'd come back from Japan, and used to work in PR, and was looking for a j-o-b so I wouldn't have to fuck with Ray-Ray's broke ass no mo (2004 rap song reference alert). One of the party goers also happened to work in PR and gave me her contact info so I could forward her my resume. A couple of days later, after I'd gotten over my Memorial Day induced hangover, I sent it to her. Now I've got a phone interview with someone at her organization in the very near future. First comes phone interview; then comes regular interview. Then comes baby in the baby carriage! Er...job with benefits.
Wish me luck.
I won't be writing a song about this particular BBQ...but you can listen to the other one I wrote.