It is no secret that women are catty, especially in the nightlife industry. It just comes with the territory. There is no way around it. After a while you start to become immune to people’s jabs and just feel sorry for them. That’s Kash now. Kash 8 years ago was a little bit different. Isabella and I were on the move from club to club. We had just left Diamonds and we were looking for the same consistent cash flow elsewhere without really any luck. Here’s the tea…
We ended up at a club on the Indiana, Illinois border called Déjà vu. It was a club with an upstairs and a downstairs. Upstairs was liquor, downstairs, 18+. Our reasoning for trying it was it must be okay. Diamonds was 18+ and we used to bank. You would get 18, 19 year old guys in there trying to spend all their parents money at Diamonds, so we decided to give ‘The Vu’ a try.
We went in there on a Monday night and there were literally 4 guys downstairs. After two hours of staring at each other we decided it wasn’t for us and we should probably leave. The manager wanted us to stay or come back on the weekend. “It’s better than this, I promise! Try upstairs!” he said. “Well, we did drive all the way out here, we might as well try upstairs.” Isabella said. So we went upstairs…
It was the same bullshit upstairs, except there was liquor so people were doing the same thing as downstairs, but drinking. Isabella did not drink and I really was not in the mood, so we just sat at a table and talked amongst ourselves.
“Why is that girl staring over here?” Isabella said. I looked over and this Fire Crotch with a drink in her hand covered in tattoos was over in the corner with a customer staring straight at us making obscene gestures with her hands. “I don’t know girl, were in Indiana.” I said.
“Let it go and let’s get the fuck out of here. We’ll try it on a weekend.” I said. “This bitch has a problem!” Isabella said. Here we go, I thought. I just wanted to go home and watch my recorded episodes of Jersey Shore.
We told the manager we were going to leave and he said to see him before we left. We walked back into the dressing room to change. Fire Crotch excused herself from the table she was sitting at and followed behind us.
“We don’t want you here, bitch. You’re a stuck up bitch!” I heard Fire Crotch yell across the dressing room in our direction. She had to have been talking to Isabella because Isabella was usually the one involved in all the drama, not me. “Let’s just go girl, ignore her.” I said to Isabella. Isabella turned to me, “She ain’t talking to me bitch, she’s talking to you.” she said. “What?” I turned around confused.
“Um, I’m not sure I know you. Is there a problem?” I said. “Yeah, Bitch. You’re a stuck up bitch. We don’t like bitches in here.” she said. I was so confused. I usually got along with everyone and kept to myself. I was there for money, not friends, so out of shock I said “Well everyone likes me!!” And looked at Isabella like there must be some mistake. Isabella just shook her head and laughed.
Fire Crotch was clearly intoxicated, she must have been confused, but nonetheless she kept talking shit. Her two buddies were in the dressing room now closest to the door. Well, if this how it has to be then this is how it has to be….
I started to walk towards her. Isabella close behind me. “Put your drink down you sloppy ass bitch.” I said. “What?” she said confused. “I said PUT YOUR DRINK DOWN YOU SLOPPY ASS BITCH.” Annunciating each syllable for her. I swung on her. The next thing I know Isabella tackles us both to the ground. Fire Crotch is face down and I’m just punching the back of her head. “STOP!! STOP!!” the girls in the dressing room were yelling.
I got up and remember Isabella yelling, “What did you think we were just some preppy Naperville bitches?”
I burst out of the dressing room track jacket unzipped yelling for the manager. I don’t even remember what I said. Knowing myself probably something along the lines of “go pick that trash up off the floor”.
I went outside. Isabella wasn’t coming. Oh No! I left her in there alone! I ran back inside the club as she was coming out. “You fucked that girl up, Kimbo Slice.” Isabella said with a look of panic mixed with satisfaction. “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” I said.
On the ride home Isabella was giving me the play by play of the fight. I just sat there listening to her in disbelief. I still could not believe that it actually happened. I did not even know this girl. I never slept with her man. I didn’t know any of her friends. I never did anything to her except walk into a club that she worked at. From that day forward I swore I would never fight in a club again. I was upset I let someone push me that far that I did not even know.
After trying to rationalize what I possibly could have done to this girl, I came to the conclusion that some women are just so jealous, insecure and unhappy with their lives they will go the extra mile to try and make someone feel less about themselves to feel better. It’s one thing if someone is messing with your man, of course there will be words, but to come out of left field with shade for no reason at all except the fact she’s jealous— that “woman” has some serious issues on the inside she needs to address. Unfortunately you cannot just go around beating people up, so you need to tell yourself that bitches be bitches. Wish them luck and if you’re really nice, throw them a life vest, so they don’t drown in that hateraid. #nowthatsthefuckingtea