Concert Etiquette

Anybody that knows me knows that me and Lady Tee *crossing my fingers* go back like that! I was with her back when she was a need-a-perm, beach chick singing "I Can't Love Anymore" like her daddy was a sharecropper. I LOVES her, in all of her honorary blackness. And I'm not the type that will claim white folks to blackness...because quiet as it's kept, I'm cerulean blue or some other color other than black everytime one of these modern-day coons do something that makes my ass itch and sneeze. Ever hear an ass sneeze?

*pause* Wait...I'm rambling.

Anyway...I love Lady Tee and her music. So I decided to take Fido (that's my squeeze-ums) to go check her out at Pier Six at the Inner Harbor. 45 minutes into the show, YOUR cousins (yes, your cousins) commence to start acting a fool.

Girl in the Back: Could you stop moving your head? I paid good money for this seat, and I can't even see the damn show.
Man in the Front: Fuck I gotta do wit' dat? Move so you can see!
Girl in the Back: No you, move, muthafucka, you been movin' your head all night. I can't see.
Man in the Front's Girl: Next time, get some better damn seats if you wanna see so bad...BITCH!

Oh, see...now I'm fit to be tied, but I'm all up in it like a knife in hot butter. Fido isn't paying attention, but I have no doubts, if these fools start shoo'in, when I look over my shoulder on Pratt (which is what direction I'm fi'n to run), he'll be running next to me, stride for stride.

At any rate, B-mo' po po deaded that argument after about 10 minutes. Not that these Eastside chickenheads and roosters gave a fat baby's BM ball about Officer Friendly. They could care less about getting thrown into jail...I overheard one of them saying they didn't want to miss Teena singing, "Casa-noba Brown."

Uh. Yeah. *gulp* Your people. Uh huh.