Derby was off the CHAIN.

I started off at The Roots concert on Wednesday. That was one of the best concerts I have ever been to in my life. (I’ve seen my husband Maxwell TWICE, so that would be the best two concerts I’ve ever seen.) The Roots and Common made every hair on my body stand on end. I was energized. Positive. Funky. Real Hip Hop. Not the disgusting, vulgar, cheerleading chanting bullcrap that permeates the airwaves today. I know I sound like an old fart when I say this: but music was better in my day. (Ha! I sound funny even to myself.) But for real, besides good beats, okay great beats, these songs SAY nothing. Hip hop used to be about good fun, a little male bravado, spreading hard-knock life wisdom. Women could be beautiful sex kittens (Real Roxanne) or hard core rhyme spitters (MC Lyte). Hip hop artists were college students or college grads. Now we have nothing but illiterate, ex-drug dealer, high school drop outs that can’t form a complete sentence let alone an intricate rhyme containing allusion to books, 70s kung fun movies, or old time jazz or blues. We have ignorant, small minded manchildren that lust over every non-black woman on earth who can barely read and couldn’t freestyle their way out a paperbag. I could go on but you get my point, don’t you? Oh yeah, and I learned some life-saving news as well. More on that in the future.

Next, went to the annual bash at Kye’s in Jeffersonville. It’s like a reunion of all the kids that went to U of L in the nineties. It was nice to see a lot of old friends, but I really didn’t have that much fun I’m sorry to say. I don’t think I was in the right mind frame. You have be in the right mind frame to party some days. Sometimes you want to party, sometimes you want to slap every man you see with gold teeth. Luckily this was the type of party where gold teeth were at a minimum. Just a bunch of neo-soul, bourgeoisie negros. You know my type of people, but they were getting on my nerves. See them all year long.

Finally, we went to the annual Darryl Griffith party. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen so many fiiiiiiine, Black brothas in suits. I’m so sick of baggie jeans and white tees. (Remember when guys wore khakis, K-swiss tennis shoes, white t-shirt with a sweater vest?) Back to the grown men. There were tons of good lucking guys. Some young one from Thompkinsville, Kentucky hit on me…..that was flattering. He had to be 21. Ooooo, 21. Okay, I’m back. The dj was Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid Capri. Awesome. The drinks free. The food free. Saw Usher. Saw Floetry. Saw Michael Jordan. Awesome. I heard there was some kind of horse race, but I missed it.