...and then I went to the Malibu...Again.

Oh God. It happened again. Every time I go, I tell myself "Fuck that place. I'll never return." Then one year later, I open my eyes and I am there again. Who did it? How did I get there? It's a mystery. But I do know this time was a little different from other times. But I think I should start with describing the other times first. Other times I had gone to the Malibu, or as some call it, "the Bu," I usually go expecting it to be kinda "meh." In fact, a lot of people groan about going. Why? Well, for one, the music. Its like the Malibu has 4 the most southern, dirtiest, gangsta mixed CD's and plays them from least gangsta, to most. And it is strictly southern hiphop. Once, the DJ made the mistake of trying to sneak in a Jay-z song (he's from New York for those who don't ever leave from under their rocks). The moment Alica Keys opened her wonderful mouth, followed by Jay-z's nonsouthern dialect, half the place just started hollering "booooo"or "Man that nigga worships tha devil." (okay, I might not have heard that last one, but it sounds like something people would say...if you know what I mean.)

"Say Hova! C'mon say it.....please"

Also, there is a group of alumni from my old high school that go almost every weekend. However, there are more alumni that come from various high schools all over the city. Ranging from the classes 1812-2011. If all of your beard is turning white, please don't go to the Malibu. Go to a Jazz club or a checkers club (haha). But whatever, old people's money is as green as mine.

In addition, there is something slightly insecure about the music that is played. Most of the songs are big ol' dedications to your various haters that may or may not exist. When the DJ plays these songs he usually tells everyone to put their middle fingers up to all the your haters in the room. Middle fingers go up. But to the ceiling. Who is up there? No one. Just like the haters. They aren't there. And when they are there, they are too busy flipping off their haters.

But this time it was different because all of this felt new to me. I had been away from this kind of club for a long time. Instead, I had been going to fun clubs. So seeing all this again was new, which answers the question posed earlier in this post. Why the hell did you come back? Because every time I find myself there, it has been a long time since I had last been. I am telling you, some places are like black holes for fun luggage: Funerals, a War's battlefield, and The Malibu. 

But one year from now....Hell naw. I'm done.