Don't Stop The Music

Okay...So last night was UMMAXX 10, another of my GM's MMA fights. He owns a mixed martial arts company and he holds fights about every three months or so. I have been to three of them, and I absolutely love it.

I was supposed to sing the National Anthem last night, and I was super excited. I had on a yummy ensemble consisting of skinny jeans, kickass black stiletto boots, and a black shirt that had a completely lace back. I flat-ironed my hair and my makeup was beyond awesome. (See the picture on the right--->) I looked glam. I was also insanely nervous, but that's beside the point.

So I go to the entertainment group guy to find out what the hell is going on, since no one explained to me where I was singing or what was actually going down. He tells me that there's been a slight change in events, and I am like, Oh shit. He tells me to come with him, and so I follow him to the back of the expo center. He decides to tell me that oh, I am no longer singing the anthem by myself--and I am like, umm...what?--that I am singing it with two people from the Army and am I okay with that? Okay, we all know that I am not okay with that, but because I didn't want to sound like a monster bitch and I wasn't sure if my GM knew what was going down, I said yeah, I was okay with that. So I go and meet these Army people, who I immediately decided were not the cool sort of Army people. On the contrary, they seemed very nerdy and uncool. I sucked up my boiling inner rage and smiled in a very convincing delightful fashion. The entertainment guy asked me if I knew how to harmonize. Um, duh. I was in choir from 4th grade to 8th grade. You definitely pick up harmony over eight years.

I smile convincingly again and say I was in choir for ten years--I decided to beef up my expertise because these two Army geeks definitely reeked of pure inexperience. I have to go sing with these idiots, and I must add that hey, the fight begins in five minutes. I sigh and internally roll my eyes, beginning to sing with these fools. As soon as they opened their mouths and began to sing, my inner hypothesis was immediately proven correct. They sucked. They knew absolutely nothing about harmony at all. I tried to sing above them to try to get some sort of harmony started, but I only had a few successful moments of harmony. By now my tumultuous sea of rage is seething just below the surface of my fakeass smile, but I decide that I am fucked and I have to make the most of it.

We roll on up to the cage, and I am figuring that hey, at least I will still look hot. They immediately put the brakes on that one. Someone shoves a white Army tee shirt over my head, and hey, the stupid shirt is two sizes too fucking big. Perfect. I am past smiling at this point, and I strut angrily into the cage. I am then informed that my heels have to come off because they will ruin the mat--why the hell didn't someone tell me that before I went shopping? I am furious. I leave the cage, and they announce my name--which, of course, is pronounced wrong. That is nothing new, people see Lashawn Chillious and immediately get intimidated. I am not pissed about that. I am pissed that my moment of shininess is being shitted on. I have to throw the boots on the ground and run into the cage in my socks and this stupid as hell shirt. I am beyond looking like nothing is wrong--they already started singing without me! I stomp over and discover that I HAVE NO MICROPHONE. How am I supposed to sing without a microphone??? I am so pissed that all I can do is stand there in a silent fury and attempt to sing along with these idiots. I am so mad that my throat goes dry and nothing comes out.

After I am done, I grab my shoes and go to my job's table. Everyone is stunned by what just went down. I am stunned, and I am furious and I yank the shirt off and put my boots back on. I am embarrassed and pissed and decide to go find my GM. I find him in the back of the expo center, and the first words out of his mouth are "What the fuck was that?" He had no idea what had just gone down. He thought that I was still the only one that was going to sing--smooth move, don't tell the guy in charge that you are fucking with the show. I am told that he is going to talk to Mr. Douchey Entertainment guy and that I am singing alone at his next fight.

After that moment of unparallelled suckiness, the night was great. The fights were good, and I had a good time with my friends.

Clint Eastwood

So...Last night was the MMA fight. Dude, it sucked. Unbelievably sucked.

Just kidding! It was AWESOME. Like Jesus walking on water awesome. I had to sell tickets, so I missed the first 3 matches, but...I never knew I'd like watching two guys beat the crap out of each other in a cage so much!

One of the fights (sponsored by our dealership) started out great. The one opponent was from Chicago (blue team), the other from Akron (red team). I wanted the guy from Chicago to win, and it looked just like maybe he would, until the dude from Akron pushed up against the cage and grappled (I think that's what it's called) with him. I personally thought it looked like they were hugging. Turns out that hugging is the Akron guy's favorite move, when he isn't "accidentally" kicking the guy in the crotch. My table was screaming and booing and yelling at the referee (myself included) to break the two up. The red guy won, much to a lot of people in the audience's chagrin.

The rest of the fights were awesome, the awesomeness amplified by the drinks I had. The best fight in my opinion was Bobby Jones, this ex-NFL player who lives in Wadsworth. He was part of the heavyweight match, and his opponent tapped out in like four minutes in the first round. It was badass! I stood on a chair for that one. They also had their first title match last night, and this welterweight from Cleveland (you know I was really loud for that one) won the belt.

It's really hard to put all the fun into words. I had a great time, and it was kind of cool to be the only girl at our table. It was even cooler to be the only girl at the table and to be louder than most of the guys! (My favorite line was "fuck him up!") I definitely plan on going to the next one in October, and I definitely plan to tell you guys all about it!

You Haven't Told Me Anything

What is it with "serious" artists being assholes?

I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me backtrack.

Last night I went to the Feast of the Assumption festival of shenanigans with Tricia and Josh. It's an annual event they hold in Little Italy, off Mayfield Road...It's been going on for like 111 years, so it's a cultural thing in Cleveland.

So, we roll into the parking lot over by the Case Western, and I see a security guard guy chilling on the curb. He's got this crazy looking Elvis meets Superman 'do, complete with the lone curl in the center of the forehead. I take this as a good sign, as does Tricia. When we pull into the spot where we're supposed to park, there's this parking attendant who obviously is a starving actor/college student reading The Pelican Brief. We have a few laughs amongst ourselves about that, and go on our merry way.

We go past a procession of parked motorcycles, parked police cruisers, and under a bridge that had this really foul smelling mud, then...I smell fried deliciousness, and Nirvana. There's a street that has the delightful name of Random, which I took as the ultimate sign that it was going to be a crazy, interesting night.

We wandered casually up the hill to Murray Hill, taking in all the Italian and non-Italian people chowing down on yummy Italian cuisine and perusing the art galleries that seem to be on every corner. I see this one gallery that is having a moving sale and everything is like 20 to 50% off. I casually mention this to Tricia, since her and Josh just bought a house and need some classy art to hang up for potentially awkward conversation starters. We look in the window at this one painting that we know Tricia most likely will not afford. I joke with her that we should take a picture of it and give it to Tiffany, her younger sister who is very artsy, and have her copy it. We open the door, and are greeted by a surly-looking Italian guy and his equally friendly-looking family sitting on a couch.

Turns out he heard my joke and thought I was serious, though mind you, I was not. He made a smart remark about us taking pictures and stealing people's art, which just wasn't true. We're not exactly art pirates. He goes on to say that if he catches us taking any pictures, he'll throw us out. We roll our eyes and go over to look at some of his art, which wasn't actually all that very good and naturally very overpriced. We whisper about Signor Asshole and are on our way to the back of the shop when we hear him still talking about us, the "girls who take pictures and make copies". Tricia is starting to get upset, and I think he is being a bit melodramatic and a lot asshole.

We are studying a collage of the Cavaliers and LeBron James when we hear the door open and some other customers stroll on in. Art Asshole Extraordinaire tells them to look around and that he'd let them go upstairs but not now because there were "these girls who take pictures of paintings and copy them", like we're professional counterfeiters. Tricia decides she's had enough and tersely informs him that we're taking our money elsewhere, and we roll out like some badass gangsters in a mobster movie, only without the guns.

We vent our anger to Josh, who suggests we let it go and go eat. We go to this Italian restaurant that looks straight out of The Godfather or Goodfellas, and promptly sit down at the bar. Wine is ordered, and I discover a few things about myself and wine: 1.)I don't like red wine, 2.)I shouldn't hold it in my mouth, no matter how untasty I think it is, and 3.)I'm thinking that perhaps wine is an acquired taste and that I don't see myself as a wine lover in the near future. I also discover that I have a knack for insulting Italian-Americans. I guess I'm a freak in the Italian world because I was eating bread and taking off the crust. I thought I was doing all right, dipping my bread in olive oil just as Josh and Tricia were doing, although I was doing more sipping of water than of wine, but NOOOO. I'm an aberration to Little Italy because I don't like the crust on their bread. Jesus.

I come to the conclusion that I do not like wine, and give it to Tricia. She drinks mine, and I want to go back out on the street because I think that I can't make an ass of myself if we're in the crush of people outside. Outside we go, and I go buy some cheese ravioli (verry good, by the way), and sit on the sidewalk and eat. We joke that we should run by that stupid shop and take a picture just to piss that guy off, but Josh quickly shot that brilliant idea down. After we ate, we went to the Holy Rosary Church to get our gamble on (that's how us Catholics roll). After losing our money to the church, we went back outside and wandered the streets aimlessly. I bought some yummy tiramisu and while I'm eating, Tricia sees a Ferris Wheel and offers up the idea that we should go ride some rides.

We buy some tickets and Tricia sees this crazy ride that spins you upside down and looks altogether dangerous and unsafe, and she immediately wants to ride it. We have only enough tickets for one ride, but Tricia has a way with people, and we get a free ride out of the guy. It was like cheating death...I hate carnival rides. They're just screaming of potential disaster.

Before we leave, we manage to piss off another person. Tricia saw this ride operator who looked like Li'l Jon, from the hair to the glasses to the cap, and she yells "Oookaaaayyy" in true Li'l Jon fashion. He was not impressed.

All in all it was a good night. Tonight is the MMA fight, and like I said earlier, I hope it does not disappoint.

Untitled 1

Hmm. It's been a while, eh?

Not too much has gone down. I registered Nicky for Head Start. I fell up the stairs and bruised my leg up pretty good. I got locked in after closing at work. I bought a badass Michael Jackson tee shirt.

I've decided that I am indeed pretty awesome. I'd like to make or buy a tee shirt that reaffirms that sentiment. I have not drank soda in like three months, which is pretty damn impressive. I'd like to say that I rock.

I have a touch of writer's block, which may or may not be due to the fact that nothing funny has really happened this week. I'm going to a MMA (mixed martial arts) fight tomorrow night, which should inspire a humorous post in the upcoming days. Just think about it, okay? Angry, sweaty guys in a cage. Fighting. In a cage. There's humor written all over it.

Til then, as always...XO