The Legend of Ratchetbelle

Shakespeare  once said, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Aretha Franklin once said, “A rose is still a rose…Baby Girl, you’re still a flower.”

I bring you these wise words, not only to demonstrate how overused roses and floral imagery are in literary and artistic works, but to set  myself up for the story of how I love my friends, Class and Trash.

Sass here, reporting  for duty.

A little over a week ago, I returned from a much needed trip to see my boys. My favorite duo, Class and Trash. Well, really I went to see Trash, but Class can’t turn down a good time, and just happened to be in the area at the same time, accompanied by my newest boo thang Dash. We spent an entire weekend laughing, laughing until we cried, eating, cackling, guffawing and just fellowshipping in a way that most people will never experience in a lifetime. At a stressful and transitional time in all of our lives, I have to admit that this was well needed and much deserved.

The weekend began when I was picked up by a car of black men, one wearing a du-rag, as if I were some kind of Instagram honey, getting flown out to be tip drilled by the squad. You don’t know me well, but I don’t do those things anymore. This was hours after my plane was originally scheduled to arrive, so I arrived under the guise of night, with plans to turn alllllllllll the way up firmly implanted in my brain. Just as an FYI, we went to Trash’s beautiful apartment where an unfortunate bottle of Fireball dared to challenge us. Don’t worry – we handled that within a number of minutes.

We went to a bar, which didn’t give two shits or a damn about my vagina, if you catch my drift. The bartender there, though, God bless him. I’m positive that he hasn’t yet met a liver that he hasn’t destroyed, with his $3 drinks that were composed of 95% alcohol with a splash of mixer. This is not an exaggeration.  I have a healthy appetite for alcohol, and even I had to ask the bartender for an extra cup of the mixer so that my liver wouldn’t commit suicide on the first night. If there’s one thing that I know, it’s that a weekend with Class and Trash will have your liver praying to King Jesus to bring it home. I needed to pace myself so as to not lose on night one. No one likes that person.

I took my first praise break of the weekend during a 1:30 trip to Zaxby’s. If you’ve never been to Zaxby’s, you have 99 problems, and that is most definitely one.

On Saturday, we prospered and flourished, while sitting on the couch watching Orange is the New Black until about 5 PM. I mean, Class went for a run, because he’s the only one who is apparently serious about his position during the upcoming cuffing season. The rest of us got Chik-Fil-A. Agree or disagree with their policies, but that chicken is scrumptious. “When Jesus says ‘YES,’ nobody can say ‘NO'”

yas

That night, two groups went out. Me and my new lifelong best friend Asian Sensation went to a club where Trey Songz was “performing,” while Class, Trash and Dash went to another bar. I’m not one to gossip, so you didn’t hear this from me, but only four people went back to Trash’s house that evening *sips tea and lowers spectacles.*

Bloop

Since there were only a few of us going back to the apartment, we got CookOut and I had my second praise break of the weekend. Again, if you’ve never had CookOut, please call a friend because you’re not living right.

cookout_tray

So remember how I said only four people returned to Trash’s casa on Saturday night? Let me tell you how said person sauntered into the house on Sunday morning just as chipper as can be. The rest of us didn’t let said person CUM into the house without us all coming for their NECK. We made sure to GET IN THAT ASS with all the jokes that a good HAND JOB could muster (okay, that one was a stretch, but I heard said person needed to stretch after their night out, too). There’s nothing to do after an amazingly fun night out besides go to brunch. And continue to drink. Excessively. For hours. It would have been rude not to. We spent the rest of the day clowning at the pool, because drunk swimming is awesome. Another friend, ATRIPP, took us out around her hood, and we had a blast at a private party, like Trash didn’t need to be at work bright and early at 8 AM.

Now let’s come back full circle, friends. Remember how I gave you those inspiring and riveting quotes about roses at the beginning? And the title is, “The Legend of Ratchetbelle?” Let’s go back there, shall we?

I live across the country from ALL of my friends. Where I live, I have friends, but it is the East Coast that knows me, loves me and allows me to be unapologetically me. When I come back to this side of the world, my friends show up, show out and get down. Which has somehow earned me a nickname…they call me Ratchetbelle. Similar to Tinkerbelle, I fly in, sprinkle you with Ratchet Dust and everyone seems to fly high and leave their manners, good sense and panties at home.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am the victim of a slander campaign. Don’t let Class, Trash, Dash, Asian Sensation or ATRIPP fool you into thinking that any of the good times mentioned this weekend are because of me. Whether you call me a rose, Sass or Ratchetbelle, I can’t take credit for the gut busting that laughter caused this weekend. These good times are because of US. A group of friends who wholeheartedly love each other, and enjoy the good things that each person bring to our lives. I could have visited these people in South Africa during Apartheid, and we probably would have made each other laugh, love and live as freely as we did.

The value of a genuine friend is something that everyone should know. I am honored to have spent my time with these people, and I truly cannot wait until all of our paths cross again. With or without my Ratchet Dust.

So to Class, Trash, Dash, Asian Sensation, ATRIPP and everyone else I saw that didn’t get a shout out because this entry is too long already: Thank you for being a friend. Traveled round the world and back again. Your heart is true; you’re a pal and a confidant. *DUN DUN DUNNNNN* And if you threw a party…invited everyone you knew….you would see the biggest gift would be from me, and the card attached would say (all together now) THANK YOU FOR BEING A FRIEND.

xxoo, Sass.

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One comment

  1. This comment shall remain anonymous to protect all involved parties:

    Aww Sass! Now I have to throw in my 2 cents…

    You managed to sum up my experience with all you lovely people with humor, wit, and an ASS LOAD of double entendre (you shady bitch <3). When i arrived back at home and was asked how I enjoyed my time I responded with…"You know how sometimes you meet someone or a group of people and it's like instant family (and i mean the kind of family where you can talk mad shit to each other and still have a blast)?? Oh you don't. Well sorry I don't know how else to explain it because that's how it was." It was perfect. I feel blessed to have been able to meet and spend time with you all. Truly. Much needed and very much appreciated. God (and condoms) be with you till we meet again. 😉

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