[***This is some Panama-length shit right here. What can I say? We had a good time and I had a lot to say. Get it right, two step, and let your shoulder lean. I also broke this into 4 completely non-sensical parts for those who like to read in spurts and need chapters. ***]

Part I: Some Say The End Is The Beginning

As I wrote yesterday in the pseudo-advertisement for the weekly Wednesday night Stock 13 Open Mic joint at Bohemian Caverns, last night was my last time hosting so I wanted to go out with a bang.

Umm…damn.

Bang.

Let me tell you something. Esther Phillips has has an album and a song called “What a Diff’rence a Day Makes”. Dude, what a difference a designated driver makes! So for real…I’m slightly hungover at work right now typing this.

Shoutouts to the bartenders and waitresses at Bohemian Caverns on Wednesday nights. Rum and cokes and shots of tequila make Panama a very sleepy sexxy muhfucka.

That’s how we get down at the Caverns.

What if I started calling myself Panama F. Sexxy, please say the Sexxy? How dumb would that be? And how is it that Lil Wayne can say that and its like the coolest shit ever? Inquiring minds would like to know. I mean you can’t tell me he’s cooler than me…right?

Right?!?

*hanging head in shame at attempts to raise my own self esteem…hold me*

Now I’m not quitting the hosting gig. Nothing like that at all. Hell, I love doing it. For real. The format is changing to a comedy showcase and since I’m neither a comedian or a showcase…nor a tall white man named Jim, a different host is coming in who specializes in comedy. And he’s supposed to be well worth his weight in gold. But that’s a different talk show. Somebody call Oprah.

Speaking of Oprah, did you all hear about Bobby and Whitney getting a divorce? Apparently, Whitney’s name is not Susan so she filed for divorce. From here on out, every little step Bobby Brown takes will be away from the fortunes of Whitney. Sure hope she had a pre-nup. That ninja shouldn’t have been humping around. Though I suppose, if you’re going to be humping around, you might as well do it with the person who’s been made famous because of it. Word to Paris Hilton.

And is it me, or does anybody ELSE wonder why Superhead didn’t opt to change her name at some point? I understand that being super at anything is worthy of note. Superman comes to mind. Perhaps super sleuth, even. But Superhead? Then again, Wonderhead doesn’t quite have the same ring to it. And this of course assumes that you simply must have the word “head” in your title. People need to go through a nickname verification and certification at some point in their life.

Then again, this is coming from a cat who has a different name for every day of the week to include both a stripper name and a porn star name (Gemini Peters) and who actually likes referring to himself as Mr. Oh So Sexxy.

Chuuch. So back to the point.

You know who else is worth their weight in gold? The ELs. That’s the house band that has been there the last two weeks. Last week, they didn’t really get a chance to show what they could do due to a scheduling glitch in the Jada Pinkett, but alas, this week…they showed their asses.

When I tell you they were rocking from the moment they started until they started packing up…well, I guess that would be me telling you they were rocking from the mome…

Hell, you get the point. They played old school classics, rap, soul…they even hit Jay-Z’s “Public Service Announcement” which sparked an impromptu freestyle session between me and two other cats at the front door. No lie. We took ‘em to college with that one. But we’ll get back to the freestyling in a minute. I don’t think any of them even know that I have this blog, but in the event that they come thru…

…word life? They rocked that shit. I’d pay money to see these brothas play and back some folks.

The ELs, y’all. No diggety.

Part II: This Is The Second Part

So let’s get into the proceedings.

One of the most important facets of putting together this little shindig is getting the vibe and energy right. Russ, the promoter, is a stickler for this. He doesn’t like slow energy and really isn’t so big on the spoken word poetry shit. Not because he can’t appreciate it, but because he wants the energy to be vibrant and vivverent (or whatever the fuck Q-Tip called it). Folks doing shit with the band is how he wants it so that even if the folks blow ass, the audience can still jive with the band.

So what would Jesus do? He’d hit that shit.

Oops.

What would Panama do?

Put a chick up who does spoken word poetry without the band.

*scratching head*

Yeah. Oops. Luckily, she was good. Goes by the name Drisona. I don’t even remember what the first one was about but the second one started with this statement: “This is for my soon to be ex-husband.”

Ears perked. I always love bitter love tales. Seriously. Not because I don’t believe in love, I just like the emotions that ninjas have when they really got some shit on their hearts and minds.

Since there’s no good time to do this, let me go ahead and tell you that last night was like a damn blogger’s reunion and shit. Oh, and I’d like to go ahead and nominate myself for: Ninja Who Could Have Gotten The Most SkyMiles If I Combined All Of My Guests Travel Miles To Be In DC Last Night.

Or NWCHGTMSIICAOMGTMTBIDCLN.

Let me run down right quick the bloggers that were there. Well you have Panama F. Sexxy (please say the sexxy), Brutha Code, Xquizzyt1, The After Party Hostess, and Honest. I haven’t seen some of them in quite some time so it was REALLY good to see them in the hizzouse. Fa shizzle dizzle.

I actually have a friend who calls me Dizzle.

Now if we carry the 1, and you include the folks that I had in there and their skymiles, you had Brutha Code in there from Japan. I had two of my friends in there from the Dominican Republic and one of them is leaving for Chile. And for you geographically challenged and ignant bastards out there…it’s not Chile as in “oooh chile, he shole is ugly.” It’s Chile like chili, only its a country in South America.

Don’t act like somebody didn’t know that.

*wagging finger and the dog*

Back to the lecture at hand. My man Joe Young The Jyant came through and laced the crowd with a rap jam. Dude, when was the last time you actually heard somebody say rap jam? Never you say? Whatever you say.

I must issue a formal apology here. The dude Komplex got up next and straight KILLED it. If you from the hood I know you feel me (keep going…). So in what can only be entitled the Great Miscommunication of 2006, I gave Kom a signal to keep going. Only, my dumb ass apparently gave the universal sign for wrap it up. Now I usually point to my watch when I want folks to wrap it up, so I’m thinking on my own terms. Well, after murdering it, he gets off stage and I’m confused because like I said, I thought I told him to keep going…oy vey…

Let’s just say, if you need anybody to umpire your kids baseball game, in game 5 of a best of 5 series to determine the area championship…I will inevitably blow a call or two. And be the subject of much ire.

Komplex…I apologize (believe me I do).

Well, Komplex brought two of his boys with him and the first cat Lamont, got up there and did a spoken word joint. Fair enough. But he ALSO brought this dude named One Wise African. I assume I’m spelling that right but you know how black folks get with their spelling of their names and shit. Well, this ninja gets up there in a tuxedo.

I swear, I didn’t even see him before this or I might have had to put the kabosh on that shit. Or AT LEAST…did a much better intro. A tuxedo provides so much fodder for…hell, clownage. I wish I could tell you if he was good or not but I can’t. He had on a tux. That’s all I saw. And heard. The jacket was white.

What’s that you say? You’re wondering if he came from somewhere that required a tuxedo?

Call me Mr. Me Too.

At least he rocked with the band.

Part III : Rounding 3rd Base

Speaking of rocking with the band. I was feeling it last night. Not feeling it as in, I’m drunk (that didn’t come until later) but the band hit that Dr. Dre “Xplosive” joint and in the crowd I see my mans and ‘nem Rashad and Sekani yelling “freestyle”.

So what does Panama do?

Says fuck it and just started freestyling. Now let me tell you something about his Royal Highness Panama. Me + Freestyle does not equal success. Or at least not in the technical sense. You’ll have fun watching me have fun on the microphone. If it’s one thing I can do…its finger roll.

You see, I have very little shame. It takes very little prodding to get me to sing or dance or do anything fun. In fact, invite me out to go karaoke-ing with you. We’ll have fun.

So I busted some raps and shit. I’m sexxy like that.

Well, we had this cat coming through named Manrock. He’s from New Jersey. Small world because he’s knows a chick I know from Spelman. Apparently its his cousin. Small world. Small world.

Well RIGHT before he gets up there, I straight DEBO Sekani into getting up on stage to freestyle. Talk about bullshitting for a second but he got up there and freestyled for a second.

And I appreciate that. Funny shit about that is, it seems like more people in there wanted him to get up and freestyle than see anything else. Everybody broke cameras out. Good times.

And good damn job Sekani. Where’s my CD ninja!!?!?!?!

By the way, Sekani is one of the guys who helps Russ put the event on as well. You can listen to a few of his songs (he’s a black dude so he’s a rapper/artist on the main page for the entire shebang, Stockholm 180). He’s one of the mans behind the man. And in today’s day and age that is a very gay statement so I’d like to add a big no brokeback (not that there’s anything wrong with that) to that entire sentence.

Manrock came and showed out…bling and all. He was feeling the energy or something because not only did he keep going for longer than he was supposed to, as soon as he got off stage he was talking about coming back next week.

Comedy.

If you get the pun that just occurred and you have breasts and look good outside of a club, I will marry you.

The highlight for me was that Asheru came through again. For those that don’t know who he is, if you’ve ever watched an episode of The Boondocks, you’ve heard him. He does the theme song. Either way…he put on a good show. I was happy.

I am Panama F. Sexxy.

You know, I’m really still tipsy at work right now and shit. This could very well be a problem.

We had two comedians come through and provide jokes. Sean Gabbert and Eric Meyer. Both were funny. People laughed. Not much more that I can say there.

Part IV: 44 Fours

I came I saw I conquered…from record sales to sold out concerts.

As usual, DJ Scientific and Grap Luva (who was AWOL for a good 10 minutes requiring me to be the hype man for the afterparty for a few…which I actually really liked doing for some reason…that was fun), get on and lead the afterparty into the wee hours.

But let me say something else right quick and do a shout out to some of my folks in the blogworld. Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of Tupac’s passing so I made sure to add to the September 13th Thug Awareness Day movement started by the homies OJ and Killacal. I even made sure that folks knew to go and Hug-A-Thug. Hell, I even wore my West Coast attire complete with bandana, Dickies, and Chucks.

Shit, ’twasn’t nothing but a gangsta party.

Well, do you know I had to REQUEST Tupac records?? For fuck’s sake, it’s his death anniversary (word to Nas). DJ Scientific is my homey but he’s clearly not a Tupac fan…EVIDENCED by the fact that this cat wore his Biggie shirt. I’m a black man and hereby paranoid so I assumed he did that on purpose.

Real talk…two people actually told me they were leaving because of that slight. Now, I take my rappers seriously but there’s one thing you do not mess with Southern Negroes about…and that’s Tupac. The dudes that left? Southern Negroes. Word life.

The afterparty was hot. I got my dance on…a lot. More liquor consumption occurred and the people were looking good in there last night. I hope they put the pictures up on the site (www.stock13.net) for this joint soon. Or at least that they put them up at some point. From what I saw…there were some very good pictures taken.

So what does it all mean?

It means a good time was had by all.

It means that we took the last Open Mic segment out on a good note.

It means that The ELs are that shit.

It means that Panama F. Sexxy enjoyed himself and met some nice new people.

And it means that on Wednesday’s at the Stock 13 joint…meet me at Bohemian Caverns…

…its going down.

I know you see it.

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