I’m sure you’re all wondering how a classy ginger such as myself came to join forces with the rugged Real Cape crew. Well as is everything that happens in my life, it was both random and creepy.
I was originally approached by a Real Cape writer we shall call ‘DaBoss’ and shortly after was additionally approached by a former high school classmate of mine who reassured me that although he thought I was a total Cut-Up-Not-Toasted in High School, thought my blog was hilarious and wanted to talk about the possibility of a collaboration.
From there, DaBoss and I coordinated schedules and I headed over to The Beach House to meet him and the others for a super formal meeting at 1030PM while heavily intoxicated. I obviously ate shit and face planted when walking through the front door because I’m me and awkwardly waited at the bar while the fetus of a bartender hit on me.
One of the ring leaders, we’ll call him “Santa”, because he was extremely jolly and kept asking me to sit on his lap, requested I join him in the back function room to speak. I made a joke about being murdered and he reassured me that rape almost always happens first and he didn’t have time for that. I immediately felt a connection.
The remaining members joined us and we began drinking, I mean talking business. I think I was a little betchy to the Minion they call Ham Sandwich, which I’d apologize for, but he was just so adorbs I couldn’t help but give him a hard time because I wanted to put him in my pocket and take him out when I’m having a bad day for something to point and laugh at. In a loving way, obviously.
Once business was over, one of the crew, let’s call him….Leppy McAwk because he’s super Irish and almost as awkward as I am, began spitting game like a fucking Llama on acid. I was picking up what he was putting down for a short time because he was totally my “good looking stoner” type, but got pissed when he challenged a black girl to a dance off with me.
Why he thought it was a good idea to make a red-headed white girl in an Old Navy sweater attempt to drop it like it’s hot with a Beyonce wannabe is beyond me, but thanks for that. Coincidentally when the night was over homeboy needed a ride home and I was the only one able to bring him. Smooth…
The entire ride home he kept on coming up with ways to try and get me to come into his house but I wasn’t having it. He even went as far as to tell me I could come in for “some water and The Oscars”. Seriously?
I dropped him off and went home to pass out in my 9 year old nephew’s twin bunk beds because I can. The next night I went to Brody’s to visit my heroin-dealing uneducated best friend (previous blog post) and low and behold Leppy McAwk strolled in. His face immediately dropped when he saw me because I obviously called him out on his super sweet pimping skills the night before in front of his pals.
Soo basically the point I’m trying to get at is that when you put together a group of degenerates from the same hometown that share a love of talking shit and pissing people off in a creative and witty way: you’ve got The Real Cape meets The Glitter Ginger, betches.
Twitter: Hippie - Insane Tony
