Doing Tricks On Your Face!

The reoccurring theme for me recently has been "having my life threatened" apparently. I dont know why, but luckily, I have a blog. I feel bad for everyone who has to vent about their problems in a healthy way. What better way to get all of this off my chest, right?! Therapist < Blog. Im spreading the wealth of knowledge with all of you loyal followers.

Last night, my friends asked me if I wanted to meet up with them in Downtown Hollywood to grab a bite. Their not from around the area, so turns out the restaurant they wanted to go to was actually in Los Feliz a.k.a little Mexico a.k.a not a chill place to be walking by yourself. ever. I had to park in a sketchy ass parking lot and walk four blocks just to get to the restaurant.... who am I kidding. It was a bar.

I was mildly scared for my life and for my chastity during the walk there, but then I got a little alcohol in my system and I was feeling pretty invincible. My friend J asked me if I wanted a ride back to my car after our little outing and I, verbatum, replied "nah dude." Super sophisticated. Because I can defend myself if shit happens, right? No.

So anyway, Im walking down an alley way to find my car, which was parked outside a mexican dollar store. Or should I say Peso store. Of course, every light is out. This is where shit gets real meat and potatoes.

This (insert ethnicity here) dude walked up behind me and started asking me where downtown LA was. I looked at him and said "ummmm really fucking far from here." Booze brain. He kept asking me if I was for treals, and then he said, "Are you sure you know your way around this city?"
I dont think he was actually asking for directions. More-so, I think (I know) he was asking me to confirm that I didn't know where the fuck I was.
I said, "No, but I know were easily five plus miles away from Downtown LA."
He goes, "Its a little late for you to be walking around here alone, arent you scared?" namely, his hood. potentially.
So I shit my pants, and I said, "No, not really." As in, no, I'm not scared (lie). (Every time I do those parentheses things I feel like Im Lizzie McGuires cartoon alter-ego coming in hot to speak the truth)

He then stepped towards me shadily. He was close enough to me that I could smell him and/or he could touch me. He smelled like he pissed his pants...three days ago.

Then he said in this hella-creepy-bitch-im-on-bath-salts-im-gonna-eat-your-organs voice, "Well, you should be scared..." I literally pivoted and booked it three blocks to my car. Then I got in my car, locked the doors, shit my pants, threw up all over my steering wheel, and drove home (not safe. do not encourage this).

Lucky for y'all, im speed demon.com on the keys so I can record all of this story properly and right as i think it. STAY IN SCHOOL. HELL YEAH SKRILLA!

YOLO,
DK