I was supposed to meet Pretty Ricky for drinks and playoff games on the big screen last Friday night. We talked about it Wednesday, we talked about it Thursday, we even talked about it Friday morning. The time was set for 8 p.m., but he was to call me back with a location that was central to both of us. Sounded good to me.Imagine my confusion and utter pisstivity when I found myself at home. At 8, then 8:15, then 8:41...on my couch...drinking sangria.... and watching the game on my 27" box TV. What tha fuh?
He called and texted me before 9, but I didn't pick up. We never spoke. And we never will.
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