Fashionable, but unable to tell fact from fiction (testing4l) wrote,
Fashionable, but unable to tell fact from fiction

beethatbumbles and relsqui have joined in an unholy conspiracy against me which makes this post necessary.

In my days of youthful discretion (approximately 4 years ago), I was living in the UCSC dorms. It was my first real departure from the home of my parents. It was the first time where I needn't make up excuses for my actions, nor report to any "superior" (so long as I ducked the proctors anyway).

I lived with a guy named Wes. Wes _loved_ rap. I must admit. I developed a taste for some of it in living with him. We got along pretty well. Especially since I had just turned 21.

In an effort to have great excuses to explore this wonderful chemical called alcohol, I made a point of enjoying (to the point of staying upright and at least semi-rational) the company of those who drank.

This led me into a number of interesting adventures. One of which introduced me to the daughter of Don Ho. I admit, a minor crush as well.

This is neither here nor there. The important part is where Wes and alcohol collided on one evening which has forever left a dark spot upon my soul.

This may have been the night of the fabled game of King's Cup. It's all a blur to me really. I remember being helped up the stairs by a rather attractive girl who lived on the floor below me. I admit it was entirely superfluous. I could have walked up those stairs backwards while reciting the greek alphabet backwards and done a series of backflips afterwards. However, when an attractive girl with a pleasing personality offers to place her arm around you and take you up the steps...well, let's just say that no one of right think would reject it.

After being helped to the room, I opened the door. Wes had a couple of friends over who were rapping to various instrumental tracks that he had set Napster on finding. It was amusing for the most part and it certainly didn't keep me from the care and love that my computers demanded ; )

After they left, Wes said: "Hey Phil....Wanna rap?"

I paused, pondered, and to my evergrowing regret said "Ummm................................sure!"

I refer to this as the night that Wes took advantage of me. Had I not been plied with that wonderful concoction of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, I never would have said yes. Not a million years. But I did, and in between a few sessions of passing the mic back and forth, we had this.

Ever since that day, whenever anyone saw me coming down the hall, someone would play it loudly. I would walk down halls full of people I didn't know and someone would inevitably play it. I was something of a celebrity. I began to be introduced as "Fresh Philly". The speed with which it spread across campus was incredible. AIDS, ebola, the common cold...none of them come even remotely close.
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