I Remember...The Football Player, Vomit In My Hair and Cops

I remember laying in his bed...every few minutes looking at the clock because it was after 1:30am and this mf still wasn't home. Then my cell rings. I remember him slurring the words, "baby where you at?"...wtf...I remember telling the fool that I was still at his house where he'd left me when it was still daylight outside. He laughed. I didn't. He asked me if I could please come get him from the club because he was too drunk to drive home. Again, wtf! I said ok and headed out.

When I get to the club this jackass is LAYING on the hood of a police car grinning with a damn toothpick in his mouth...WHAT THE F*CK!!! The cop told me that he told him to call someone to get him so that he didn't have to pull him over. I thanked him and told "Mr. Champagne Guzzler" to come get in my car so I could take him home. I remember him telling me to park my car and get in his because he didn't want to leave his truck. Now I'M laughing and thinking this (N word) must be crazy! ...then he tells me he CAN'T leave his truck and if something happened to mine he'd buy me a new one. So I left it.

Fast forward to the ride back to his house. On the beltway and I remember him gagging and wretching. I asked him if he needed me to pull over because I knew he was going to throw up. He said no. Then he put the window down and stuck his head out. Again, "do you need me to pull over?"
"Nope. Just get to the house."
The next memory I have is this mf'er vomiting out the window and vomit blowing back in the truck...in my f**king hair! I then remember slamming on breaks (in the middle of the beltway) and screaming at the top of my lungs...no words, just screaming. I stopped the truck so suddenly and screamed so loud that I scared him. I remember him taking off his black button-down Armani shirt and trying to wipe the vomit out of my hair for me. I smashed the accelerator (which also scared the sh*t out of him) and finally made it to the house...where his drunk ass vomited again...all over the inside of the passenger door and in the driveway. I left him in the driveway on his knees and ran straight in the house so that I could take a shower and wash my hair. I was glad I had his keys and didn't have to wait on him...pause...I get in the house and the alarm is beeping for me to enter the code. Nice. I don't live there so I don't know the damn code, but luckily he's up off his knees and now laying in the doorway so i tell him to put the code in or give it to me so I can put it in...pause again...This (N word) is so f**ked up that he can't even remember the code to his own alarm! Again..nice...now the alarm is going off...LOUD. Dumbass is now asleep (still in the doorway...feet outside, head inside) and the alarm is blaring. The phone is also riinging and now...the cops are there. Remember I'm dealing with all this nonsense...with my hair still wet and smelling of vomit.

Short story...me and nice cop #2 woke him up long enough to talk to the security company on the phone. Fortunately for him the cop was a big fan and recognized him. I finally got to wash my hair (with him kneeling in front of the toilet and then falling asleep on the bathroom floor). I left him in the bathroom (cut the lights off and everything) and went to bed. It was about 4am. I set the alarm so that I could wake him up in the morning for practice. I remember getting up when I heard the alarm and was shocked...this mf'er was already up and dressed. Guess he didn't want that fine for being late. smh. So many more stories of him so for future reference we'll just refer to him as "Mr. NFL"...lol

The "I Remember" Series...

The "I Remember" series is the most personal part of The Pink Ink Blog. It describes a series of different memories throughout my life. Some are funny, some are sad, some are very random but they all are important and personal to me. At times I may only tell part of a story, other times you'll get the entire picture. Hope you enjoy!

I Remember...The Night Gino Died

I remember reading the text...way before texting was so popular. I remember not being able to process what it said and not being able to cry...because I couldn't process it. I remember a few hours later sitting in my car in front of my house reading the text again...and again...and again. I remember an excessive amount of calls breaking through my phone as I was reading the text...again...and again...and again. A friend of his showed up at my house. I remember him explaining all the details that he knew but still...couldn't process it. Still couldn't cry. I watched some tv, read a few chapters of a book, ignored my phone which had vibrated so much that it had fallen on the floor and then I went to sleep.

The next memory I have is 3am...I remember getting up to use the bathroom and then...devastation. I started to cry and I couldn't pull it together. I stayed in the bathroom...crying...for over an hour. I had now totally processed what had happened. Gino was dead. I went to my phone and went through my call log. I had spoken to him at 9:03am that morning. He had just gotten out of the hospital and wanted me to come see him at his mom's. I said, "I'll come by later". Later was too late. I checked my voicemail, skipping through all the "Mo, I'm so sorry"..."Mo, what happened?"..."Are you ok?"...etc. I was looking for the last message he'd left me saying to call him, it was an emergency. I remembered that I'd gotten the message but I'd never called him back. The message was gone...it had been over a month ago. I cried some more. Then I went back to that state of not being able to process it again...to be continued