All Aboard The STALKER EXPRESS!!!!

Last week/weekend probably went down as one of the most epic 4-5 days I've ever experienced. It involved more booze consumed to kill an entire farm, little or no sleep one would think I was the second coming of Charlie Sheen and shenanigans so ridiculous that the first night I get to NYC, I actually almost got arrested.

And as much as I want to talk about the details of these events, I'm gonna hold off because if there was one thing that stood out more than all of that, it was one person. One fan. One monkey mouth bitch who thought she was probably the Ghetto Genius' First Lady.

Now, before I go off on what I'm about to say, I just want every person reading this to know, I LOVE MY FANS AND SUPPORTERS. However, there is a fine line when it comes to being a fan and a crazy fucking bitch. I'm not that guy who would ever put any of his fans on blast, but today, it's gonna happen.

Have a seat, relax and enjoy a story about the crazy bitch who thought she was bout it, bout it.

Saturday night. Toshi's Living Room. Flatiron District.

It was going to be a night that I knew I wasn't going to remember. Before I left my hotel that night, I told my buddies and my publicist, "Pray for no crazy motherfuckers. That's the last thing we need to ruin this fucking night." Those words about cursed me from the moment I arrived at the venue.

I arrive, set my shit down, grab a drink and right out the gate two awesome fans from Connecticut cruise up to me. "Hey J, love your book and blog! Can I get your autograph and a picture?" This is what I'm talking about. Getting love from fans already...and this shit just started. I sign her book and start to strike up convo because I'm the guy who wants to get to know his fans, even if it's for 5 fucking minutes. We start chatting and that's when I see it.

Her. Diagonal from me. Halfway lying across this couch as if the bitch was trying to model some fucked up smelling perfume or something. Trying to look all sexy. Slowly stirring her drink with her straw. Staring at me. And not like staring at me with sexy ass eyes but with eyes that said, "I will eat your fucking dick and wear your skin, motherfucker." Real talk.

I notice this obnoxious display and do my best to not make any eye contact. WHATSOEVER.

Roughly 10 minutes go by and for every minute that passed before my eyes, I started to notice this broads stare got more and more fucking crazy. Almost to the point that this chick was gonna say, "fuck it," pull out some chloroform, suffocate me with it, kidnap me, kill me, fuck my dead body, eat my ass and ball sack then throw me down the river at 5am. This is all truth people.

Knowing I couldn't avoid this girl, I finally approach her and do my job as a blogger/author and show some love. I  mean, they came here for me, right? Now, I'm not going to bore you guys to death so I'll give you fuckers a run down of what this bitch actually did/said/acted. Mind you, I'm not the only one who noticed this girl who thought this was her fucking party.

1) Acted as if SHE wrote the book. Literally. Hey, I get that you're a fan and you "keep it real". But is it really necessary to act like an angry motherfucker and think we're about to get in a brawl? If there was one person who tried way too fucking hard, it was this bitch. I was almost convinced she was gonna stop in mid-sentence and start barking like DMX and start breaking shit.

2) Mean mugging other female fans I was talking to AND talking shit about them. I mean, really? You didn't get your 15 minutes of attention so you have to go and mad dog every single broad I was talking to and talk shit? Last I checked, no one knows you and you don't know them. Did I miss something and not realize we were remaking a scene from American Me? You know who does shit like this? Insecure bitches. FACT.

3) Wanted not one, but TWO books signed. Front AND back covers. Someone did not get hugged much as a kid.

4) Interrupted and butted in on probably every conversation that didn't involve her.

5) Repeated all fucking night, "I did not come all this way for you guys not to hang out with me? You better not leave me!!!"

Let's back up the fucking truck here...I have done a few bar/book signings, drank with fans, had long conversations with them and never...I mean NEVER have I had a fan tell me and my homies what the fuck we should do and why we need to involve them. First off, no one forced you to come and second, you aren't a part of my crew. Now, I don't want that statement to offend anybody but when you try and make yourself at home when we don't even know who the fuck YOU are...you can go fuck yourself because when you act crazy, ain't nobody trying to deal with your psycho ass. But I digress...

6) Doodled J-Wunder and Ghetto Genius on the bar top at the Hog Pit...the bar we ended up moving the party to after Toshi's. Over and over and over again...

WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT FUCKING SHIT?!

7) Made other fans and friends so uncomfortable that I probably got "Hey bro...watch out for that bitch...she is fucking crazy. Seriously. That bitch is going to kill the next person who talks to you." a thousand times. NO FUCKING JOKE.

People, I could go on for days, but I think y'all get the picture.

It wasn't until 11pm or so that I looked around and all my homies and fans bounced...except her. Not because they were bored, but because this bitch drove them away. All on her own. Look, I have some cool friends and supporters...ones that can handle shit and not think twice about. But if you have to leave because one bitch is acting TOO CRAZY, what does that tell you?

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!!

So there I am, at the bar when I realized earlier in the night I took a bite of a tootsie roll that was made with weed. So not only am I high as shit and wasted, but I'm at this fucking bar with some old guy who knows all about this broad who has lost her goddamn mind AND the actual fucking broad. What is a guy to do? Simple.

I order a drink and a shot and sat there contemplating if this was the night I was going to be murdered and be seen on 48 Hours Murder Mystery next week. Out of sorts, I come to, leave my drinks, fake a phone call, slowly walk outside as if I need someplace quiet, take 12 steps to the left and do what any normal individual would do in a situation where you are left alone with a stalker...

I FUCKING RAN.

Actually...

I SPRINTED. I SPRINTED SO FUCKING FAST THAT USAIN BOLT DID NOT HAVE SHIT ON ME THAT NIGHT.

I was running so fucking fast that I was hurdling bums, fire hydrants and shit. It was mesmerizing...especially high off a goddamn tootsie roll.

When I finally got a few blocks down from the bar, I saw my homegirl and the only thing she could say was, "J, you my friend are a wreck. Aren't you glad you signed up for all this fame and shit?!" To which I respond, "Fuck...did I? Story of my life, I guess. I need to grab a fucking pizza. C'mon, I'll walk your ass home, then I'm gonna party...even if it's by myself."

Walk her home, I did. Pizza I got. And partying is what went down...til 7:30am from a fan and his buddy from Philly.

If there is anything I learned from this, is that I need to bring security next time. Even if it's my own fucking mom.

Oh, and to the fan that knows I'm talking about her...you may be mad. You may talk all the shit and try to put me on blast...that's totally fine. The reality is, this is the first story that I didn't even have to try and be over the top because you did that for me. For that, I thank you!

My +1 Experience With J-Wunder

It was a Wednesday around 3pm. I received a phone call from Mr. J-Wunder. He was at his martini “lunch” for his so-called job. Our fearless leader was rambling on about needing a date to his company Holiday Party. He said that he had not taken a date the last four years so people were beginning to spread rumors about him being gay. Keep in mind that J makes it a point to keep work and play VERY separate. Apparently, most of the people he works with think he’s actually a productive member of society. Crazy, right? I wouldn’t consider daily drinking, banging countless broads, and beating up people with a pair of shoes productive. But to each his own I guess.

Being the nice person that I am, I said that I’d go. I figured it would at least be free dinner and drinks. What woman would say no to free shit, right? I had a week and a half to prepare myself for the occasion so I primed my liver and pulled out my little black dress. J arranged a hotel room for the night since we both knew that driving would not be in the cards. I should never have let him choose the hotel, by the way. China town has some sketchy ass hotels where the dirtiest of dirty probably goes down. I’m surprised they didn’t charge him by the hour.

On the way to the party I was filled in on who everyone was that I would meet and who not to talk to. I was warned that the company owner would probably play grab ass with me which wasn’t all bad in my opinion. A possible sugar daddy should be on every girl’s life to-do list. First thing we did upon arrival was head to the bar, of course. Vodka for me, scotch for J-Wunder. There was the normal small talk bullshit and talking to people you really would rather not see outside of the office. Then I heard something I was not prepared for.

Co-worker: “Are you gonna dance battle Jamie tonight?! You kicked her ass last year!! Come on, you gotta do it!”

All I could do was imagine J drunk as shit, dancing like a spastic Carlton, but picturing himself as a suave John Travolta, hip thrusting the living shit out of his co-worker from behind. A pity winner train wreck that everyone waits to see at the yearly gathering. I was seriously looking forward to witnessing this for myself. After about eight vodka cranberries I forgot all about it. Damn drunk wandering mind. J was lookin pretty sexy though by that point. I was even willing to forgive him for introducing me as his future ex-wife to everyone. Asshole. The party started to get boring so we decided to head out and find some late night eats. As we were waiting for a cab I realized I had stolen someone’s santa hat, was carrying my shoes, and J was carrying a bottle of Kettle One that he stole from the bar. Good job, Mr. Wunder.

We headed to a thai food joint and ate like fat kids. When I came out of the ladies room, J-Wunder was nowhere to be found. Like, no fucking where. I walked outside, still nothing. I called to find out what the fuck happened and he just said, “HURRY…..LEAVE THERE NOW!!! I’m down the street waiting for you.” You know what this guy did? This asshole dined and dashed while I was taking a piss! He’s lucky I was drunk cause I forgot to be pissed for leaving me there. Well played, vodka.

On the walk back to the hotel I realized the dance battle never happened at the party. So I of course had to give J shit about being to pansy to battle that night. I was convinced that he had NO skills. Because of this, I was promised a private dance in the room. I was so ready to laugh my ass off. Let the goddamn dancing begin...

J proceeded to play the song Erotic City on his phone and sing along while slowly stripping off his clothes like a drunken Chip 'n Dales dancer. Now that I think about it, he might be hiding a past job experience from his stories. I might have to research how he put himself through college. Anyway, I was totally enjoying the show until he thought it would be a good idea to try swinging around the lamp like it was a stripper pole. The lamp shattered into a hundred damn pieces, J went flying onto the bed, and there was Mr. Wunder’s face……buried in my pink taco. I will not disclose what happened next, but I will say that all his claims about loving to please women are, in fact, true.

The next morning, I woke up to J trying to take pictures of my naked ass. I had managed to even keep the santa hat on in true Christmas spirit. This +1 experience took a naked turn for the best and one I will never forget.

Hope you all had a fan-fucking-tastic holiday season too!

Love,

RoMo

P.S. Next time J, leave the dancing to me.