The internets is filled with stuff, so much stuff it seems like a job just to keep up with it all. Here at Super-Id, we like to keep it simple – one thing, whether it’s a photo, video, song, or whatever, they we think you should fucks with. We call it Today’s…
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The Instagram Account of Misty Copeland
[intense_lead]If you dare say Misty Copeland and Black Swan in the same block of words, you deserve to have ravens pluck out your eyeballs for eternity. [/intense_lead]
I have a Misty Copeland story. I met Misty Copeland before she was dancing on pianos and being super fly with Prince and an inspiration to millions. It was at my friend’s birthday party. I saw Misty sitting on the end of the bar next to another female. Immediately registered she was a neck-breaker and started to scheme (being some type of creep, I scheme instead of simply introducing myself – the life of a guy). Here was the problem – Misty sat at the bar with her girlfriend the entire time there and all the seats at the bar were full, so striking up a natural conversation was kinda difficult. I forgot how, but somehow, someway I finally get a chit-chat in with her. I gave her a hard time for hogging up the seats all night. She laughed. I kept the joke going. She laughed more. I introduced myself. She did the same. Misty. Seriously? That’s your name? Interesting…
I’m going to be honest. I have zero idea if I had a shot with Misty that night. She laughed at everything I said, but then again, I’m funny, so it’s to be expected that people laugh at my shit. She never excused herself to get away from me, but then again, I smell really good and once again, I’m funny, so this is normal as well. The conversation flowed smoothly so I made the decision to pull out the contract for her to sign (ladies, this is a sports euphemism for getting the phone number). Seriously, literally as I’m about to pull out my phone, her girlfriend swoops in, hits me over the head and two times in the nose with the major cockblock and whisks her away saying that they had to go. What. The. Hell? What! The! Hell!
I asked my homeboy about her cause I wasn’t about to let her jump into her pumpkin stage-coach and have me never see her again. I wanted to follow-up. He told me that was his good friend and to Google her. Now understand, this is before people become obnoxious as fuck as they tell folk to Google them on some ‘I’m special’ shit. This is before the song. This is before all that nonsense. So I went home and Google’d her… and I saw her Wikipedia page… and her YouTube videos… and the newspaper articles… and all the crazy ass pictures of her, her legs, and her dancing… and I hated her girlfriend with every core of my being.