All Aboard The STALKER EXPRESS!!!!

Last week/weekend probably went down as one of the most epic 4-5 days I've ever experienced. It involved more booze consumed to kill an entire farm, little or no sleep one would think I was the second coming of Charlie Sheen and shenanigans so ridiculous that the first night I get to NYC, I actually almost got arrested.

And as much as I want to talk about the details of these events, I'm gonna hold off because if there was one thing that stood out more than all of that, it was one person. One fan. One monkey mouth bitch who thought she was probably the Ghetto Genius' First Lady.

Now, before I go off on what I'm about to say, I just want every person reading this to know, I LOVE MY FANS AND SUPPORTERS. However, there is a fine line when it comes to being a fan and a crazy fucking bitch. I'm not that guy who would ever put any of his fans on blast, but today, it's gonna happen.

Have a seat, relax and enjoy a story about the crazy bitch who thought she was bout it, bout it.

Saturday night. Toshi's Living Room. Flatiron District.

It was going to be a night that I knew I wasn't going to remember. Before I left my hotel that night, I told my buddies and my publicist, "Pray for no crazy motherfuckers. That's the last thing we need to ruin this fucking night." Those words about cursed me from the moment I arrived at the venue.

I arrive, set my shit down, grab a drink and right out the gate two awesome fans from Connecticut cruise up to me. "Hey J, love your book and blog! Can I get your autograph and a picture?" This is what I'm talking about. Getting love from fans already...and this shit just started. I sign her book and start to strike up convo because I'm the guy who wants to get to know his fans, even if it's for 5 fucking minutes. We start chatting and that's when I see it.

Her. Diagonal from me. Halfway lying across this couch as if the bitch was trying to model some fucked up smelling perfume or something. Trying to look all sexy. Slowly stirring her drink with her straw. Staring at me. And not like staring at me with sexy ass eyes but with eyes that said, "I will eat your fucking dick and wear your skin, motherfucker." Real talk.

I notice this obnoxious display and do my best to not make any eye contact. WHATSOEVER.

Roughly 10 minutes go by and for every minute that passed before my eyes, I started to notice this broads stare got more and more fucking crazy. Almost to the point that this chick was gonna say, "fuck it," pull out some chloroform, suffocate me with it, kidnap me, kill me, fuck my dead body, eat my ass and ball sack then throw me down the river at 5am. This is all truth people.

Knowing I couldn't avoid this girl, I finally approach her and do my job as a blogger/author and show some love. I  mean, they came here for me, right? Now, I'm not going to bore you guys to death so I'll give you fuckers a run down of what this bitch actually did/said/acted. Mind you, I'm not the only one who noticed this girl who thought this was her fucking party.

1) Acted as if SHE wrote the book. Literally. Hey, I get that you're a fan and you "keep it real". But is it really necessary to act like an angry motherfucker and think we're about to get in a brawl? If there was one person who tried way too fucking hard, it was this bitch. I was almost convinced she was gonna stop in mid-sentence and start barking like DMX and start breaking shit.

2) Mean mugging other female fans I was talking to AND talking shit about them. I mean, really? You didn't get your 15 minutes of attention so you have to go and mad dog every single broad I was talking to and talk shit? Last I checked, no one knows you and you don't know them. Did I miss something and not realize we were remaking a scene from American Me? You know who does shit like this? Insecure bitches. FACT.

3) Wanted not one, but TWO books signed. Front AND back covers. Someone did not get hugged much as a kid.

4) Interrupted and butted in on probably every conversation that didn't involve her.

5) Repeated all fucking night, "I did not come all this way for you guys not to hang out with me? You better not leave me!!!"

Let's back up the fucking truck here...I have done a few bar/book signings, drank with fans, had long conversations with them and never...I mean NEVER have I had a fan tell me and my homies what the fuck we should do and why we need to involve them. First off, no one forced you to come and second, you aren't a part of my crew. Now, I don't want that statement to offend anybody but when you try and make yourself at home when we don't even know who the fuck YOU are...you can go fuck yourself because when you act crazy, ain't nobody trying to deal with your psycho ass. But I digress...

6) Doodled J-Wunder and Ghetto Genius on the bar top at the Hog Pit...the bar we ended up moving the party to after Toshi's. Over and over and over again...

WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT FUCKING SHIT?!

7) Made other fans and friends so uncomfortable that I probably got "Hey bro...watch out for that bitch...she is fucking crazy. Seriously. That bitch is going to kill the next person who talks to you." a thousand times. NO FUCKING JOKE.

People, I could go on for days, but I think y'all get the picture.

It wasn't until 11pm or so that I looked around and all my homies and fans bounced...except her. Not because they were bored, but because this bitch drove them away. All on her own. Look, I have some cool friends and supporters...ones that can handle shit and not think twice about. But if you have to leave because one bitch is acting TOO CRAZY, what does that tell you?

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!!

So there I am, at the bar when I realized earlier in the night I took a bite of a tootsie roll that was made with weed. So not only am I high as shit and wasted, but I'm at this fucking bar with some old guy who knows all about this broad who has lost her goddamn mind AND the actual fucking broad. What is a guy to do? Simple.

I order a drink and a shot and sat there contemplating if this was the night I was going to be murdered and be seen on 48 Hours Murder Mystery next week. Out of sorts, I come to, leave my drinks, fake a phone call, slowly walk outside as if I need someplace quiet, take 12 steps to the left and do what any normal individual would do in a situation where you are left alone with a stalker...

I FUCKING RAN.

Actually...

I SPRINTED. I SPRINTED SO FUCKING FAST THAT USAIN BOLT DID NOT HAVE SHIT ON ME THAT NIGHT.

I was running so fucking fast that I was hurdling bums, fire hydrants and shit. It was mesmerizing...especially high off a goddamn tootsie roll.

When I finally got a few blocks down from the bar, I saw my homegirl and the only thing she could say was, "J, you my friend are a wreck. Aren't you glad you signed up for all this fame and shit?!" To which I respond, "Fuck...did I? Story of my life, I guess. I need to grab a fucking pizza. C'mon, I'll walk your ass home, then I'm gonna party...even if it's by myself."

Walk her home, I did. Pizza I got. And partying is what went down...til 7:30am from a fan and his buddy from Philly.

If there is anything I learned from this, is that I need to bring security next time. Even if it's my own fucking mom.

Oh, and to the fan that knows I'm talking about her...you may be mad. You may talk all the shit and try to put me on blast...that's totally fine. The reality is, this is the first story that I didn't even have to try and be over the top because you did that for me. For that, I thank you!