Ask Cafe Darkness

Can we all go to this bar now, please?

Wow, it’s been a minute since we’ve answered your questions! Sorry, y’all! I’ve been busy drinking wine and taking shots of tequila on a school night. (Blech). Anywhoos, after sifting through none hundreds of your questions, here are the ones I feel require the most attention.  Side note: I’m punchy today because of tequila, so I apologize for my sassitude.

Dear Café Darkness:


Why does TLW only speak in a cockney accent when she’s deep in her cups? It’s annoying and not nearly as funny as she thinks it is. 


Over it in the Southside.

Dear Over it,

First off, you live in Southside, so stfu. Second of all, we couldn’t agree more. It’s irritating and we’re not quite sure what to do about it.  There is currently a small group of people talking about going all Intervention on her ass like they did back in the fall about her semi-ferals. I.e: Your addiction to speaking in cockney has affected me in the following ways: It makes me want to slap the shit out of you, it makes boys look at you funny, etc.  If you want to get up in on it, hit us up at!

Dear Café Darkness,


It’s Memorial Day weekend and I don’t have any plans. What should I do?


Lonely in Lakeside

Dear Lonely,

I don’t understand you people.  How many times do we have to tell what you need to do to make some friends? Jesus. Christ. Turn off your god damn Xbox and get your ass out and about! Shake what your mamma gave you! Buy some people some shots! I’m not answering questions like these anymore because you have the tools (liquid courage) in your tool belt (this blog) to help you.  GO LIVE YOUR LIFE!



Yesterday I came up with what may be my best money-making scheme yet. It involves a twist on the world’s oldest profession but instead of selling my milkshake, I’m selling my company!  I call it FRIENDS FOR HIRE and for the low, low cost of $19.99 you get me, TLW, to hang out with you for an entire evening! Drinks on you and no funny business, please-unless you’re cute and I feel like getting handsy after a couple of cocktails.

Now I know what you’re thinking, who in the world would pay for me to hang with them, amright? And to a certain extent, you’re right! Most people would find no need to employ my services as they have plenty of friends/significant others/real dolls to occupy their time.  However, there are some people who would be silly to not use FRIENDS FOR HIRE for basement bargain price of $19.99 (plus drinks, no funny business)!

You: New to town and in search of someone with impeccable taste to take you around to RVA’s hottest spots. HIRE ME! As a Richmond native I am more than aware of what bars around town would be to your tastes. Are you into Ed Hardy? Then let’s go to Star-lite, anywhere Downtown or maybe even Bar Louie in DTSP.  Are you a lobster-pants wearing preppy asshole? Cool! Let’s hit up City Limit and then anywhere on Robinson! A dirty fucking hipster? No irony, no problem! We’ll go to Ipanema, The Camel and Gallery 5. Trust! 

You: A still in the closet gay man attending a family reunion. HIRE ME! I love my gays and would be more than willing to pretend to be your adoring girlfriend to your judgey Southern Baptist family. For an extra $10.00 I’ll even pretend to be a Republican!

You: Recently divorced and realized all of your friends are other married couples who pretty much only couple skate. HIRE ME! As a divorcée, (God, I love that word, it’s so 1980’s Dynasty) myself I also had to mix things up.  Not only do I bring experience to the table, but I make a great a fantastic wingman and promise to turn you into a Kissing Bandit within 3 sessions!

You: A socially awkward singleton in need of desperately getting laid. HIRE ME! Did I mention I make an excellent wingman?! I’m capable of talking to pretty much anyone and am great salesman. I will promote your best assets to their fullest extent and  I promise you will get the sexy within 5 sessions! (Money back not guaranteed!)

So yeah, FRIENDS FOR HIRE is pretty much the best idea ever. All interested parties should hit me up at and we’ll work out the logistics.  (Drinks on you, no funny business)!

BP Officals Admit, “We’re Fresh Outta Ideas!”

One of the potential solutions BP officals are considering

VENICE, LOUISIANA.  BP officials announced yesterday that they would begin accepting solutions from the general public in regards to what steps the British company should take to stop the massive amounts of oil that are currently gushing from an oil leak causing massive environmental damage to the Gulf of Mexico’s fragile ecosystem. 

Howard Smith spoke on behalf of the company earlier today and stated that at this time BP has, “no idea what the fuck we are going to do about this oil leak.  We are completely out of ideas and now turn to you, the general public, to help us stop this environmental nightmare from continuing.” 

This is not the first time BP officials have used the public’s suggestions.  Mr. Smith admitted that the idea of a “containment dome” came from a five-year girl at a McDonald’s Play Land and a local Louisiana hobo suggested the “junk shot” method, which involves plugging the well with rubber. Both, he stated were, “great ideas that just didn’t pan out.”

At press time BP officials were currently reviewing three different ideas to help contain the leak: using a hot tub time machine to go back to the day before the leak and plug it with kittens, employing a wizard from the future to perform magic on the leak and finally, hiring a velociraptor to “scare” the leak with it’s high pitched shrieks and clacking talons.

The Weekend in Review: May 21st-May 23rd

I love to hate you. Hard.

I hate when I actually have to work at work. Normally I can get away with the bare minimum (read maybe an hour a day) but lately shit’s been bananas and I’ve barely had a hot second to do what I do best: write awesome self-deprecating blog posts about my life that make most of you happy that you’re not me! Just to tide y’all over until I have more free time here’s the short list of the highlights of my weekend:

Friday: I cleaned my disgusting hovel of an apartment from ten in the morning until one in the afternoon. Thoroughly impressed with my responsible actions I treat myself to a nap and a happy hour at Legend’s which turned into drinks at Havana which turned into even more drinks at Sidewalk. I think I high fived people? Fun times.

Saturday: I woke up still drunk and met my mom for some classy art gallery stuff (don’t worry about it) and then lunch. The booze began to wear off as soon we were seated and I went from being mildy punch to cold sweating. Sensing the urgency of the situation, mom orders me a Bloody Mary straight away and orders me to drink it post haste.  The apple doesn’t fall far the tree, ifyouknowwhatimsayin.  I comply and treat myself to another nap after lunch. Saturday evening arrives and it’s time for some wine with the ladies which later turns into whiskey with a different group of ladies. Gross. I need to stop drinking whiskey on the rocks straight away.

Sunday: I briefly wake up around 10:00 to walk the boys. I even drink a cup of coffee and fool myself for a hot second that I’m going to get up and be productive. Ten minutes later I retire back to the bed where I don’t rise again until 1:30. I do some light fitness to (unsuccessfully) get back to good, but it’s not until my second glass of wine at The Republic when I start to feel normal again.  Sunday Funday, FTW!

So there you have it folks, my weekend in review. Sorry it’s not more detailed, but just you wait. Soon I’ll be back on my A game of working the bare minimum to not get fired!

I’ve Got Opinions, Y’all!

Dear God No
I’ve recently discovered something interesting about myself. Apparently I have opinions on subjects that no one else does.  I’ve also never done things that most people have done (and no, I’m NOT talking about bukkake, you disgusting freak shows) for a good part of their lives. I’m just a mystery, enshrouded in a riddle, covered in an enigma, y’all!
1-I have never operated a lawnmower. Ever. I don’t even know how to start one. I would like to keep it this way from now to forever.
2-Most people paint their apartment or house when they move in. Not this girl.  I have not once even looked at a paint sample, let alone physically painted a room.  I suppose it’s because I can’t be so bothered and don’t really give a rip what color my walls are.  
3-I hate bed and breakfasts. I think they’re creepy and weird. I guess the general consensus is that they’re “charming” and “intimate”. Now, I’ve never actually been to a bed and breakfast but I’m picturing it to be the most awkward experience of my entire life. I imagine having to eat breakfast around a very large circular wooden table in someone’s kitchen, eating their nasty food and having to make chit chat about the weather. Kind of like morning office talk except I’m actually in their home, which is weird. I also imagine it something like the Walton’s (g’night John Boy!) where we all have to go to bed at the same time. Gross. No thank you. I’ll just stay at the airport Holiday Inn, thank you very much.
4-Certain words really weird me out. When I hear them I have an instant reaction. A few of these words are: yellow, sprout, pillow, moist and panties. It was hard for me to even type those words. Excuse me while I go get sick all over my freshly cleaned bathroom. Sickos.
5-I would rather have my toe nails removed with a rusty pair of pliers than go to a Baby’s R Us (!).  I went to one once to buy a baby shower gift and stood there scared and unable to comprehend what in the hell was happening.  For those of you lucky enough to never have gone to one, let me break it down for you. You go in, print off the registry and select whatever gift that has yet to be purchased. If you’re like me, you’re more than likely doing this the day of the shower, so it’s slim pickins. Side note: how come men never have to attend showers? Jesus Christ, they’re awful.  Anywhoos, so you see your friend registered for a Baby Romper Bumpee Bopper of which you have no clue what the fuck a Baby Romper Bumpee Bopper is so it’s not you can just go to the Baby Romper Bumpee Bopper aisle.  Oh no. Not only do have to know what a Baby Romper Bumpee Bopper is, you have to know for what age it’s appropriate because that’s how they organize their store. Fun! So you start in the infant section and work your way through to the 30 and living in their parent’s basement section just praying you find this god damn item. Now you could ask someone to help you, but these employees do not exist in Baby’s R Us. It’s a free for all and they assume that you have a vagina then you’re motherly instinct will kick in and lead you like a magical unicorn to the Baby Romper Bumpee Bopper.  But, if you’re like me, it won’t and you’ll stand in the middle of the store after wandering around aimlessly for an hour.  Finally you’ll say “fuck this shit” (loudly) and leave. Pro tip: you can buy any baby shower gift at Kroger. All babies are pooping and peeing machines and they sell diapers everywhere.  You’re welcome!

A Very Richmond Edition of Wednesday Randoms

Last night I sashayed shanted myself to the Style Weekly Very Richmond party. It was loads of fun but the highlight of the evening was seeing the infamous Meade Skelton perform not one, not two but three songs. He crooned his heart out and ended it with my fav “Hipsters Ruin Everything” because you know, when you think about it, they really do.  After his rousing performance I even got to shake his hand and give him a hug Café Darkness style! Squee! I think he gave my glass of wine the stink eye, though. Sorry, it’s not Cheerwine, Meade.

Did you know you’re very Richmond if you have a blog and think you’re way more clever than you really are?  It’s true! Take me for example. I think I’m funnier than I am in reality.  I also abhor nuts in my sweet treats, bed and breakfasts, and the word “sprout” but that’s another story all together!

My one-way ticket to hell was signed, sealed and delivered this morning when I could barely contain my laughter as a coworker described a party she went to last week. She said she ran into an old friend who was having a grand ole time dancing and laughing and taking pictures like bananas with his girlfriend. In between cutting a carpet, she said that he told her he had to be on dialysis three times a week and used to be homeless. I could barely get out the question between the tears to please explain and let me get this straight; I can’t pay a guy to take me out to get a god damn Wendy’s combo number 3 but a fucking ex-hobo with busted kidneys is getting laid on the regs? Nice. I’m still chuckling, by the way.

My manager is on a cruise this week. I’m glad she can afford to go on vacation, because I sure as shit can’t. (HIRE ME!) In typical TLW style I am taking full advantage of the lack of supervision by coming in an hour late, taking two hour lunches and bouncing early as a mofo.  This has been the best week ever.

I’ll take my crazy with a side of crazy!

Something needs to be done to stop this

Editor’s note: In an effort to maintain my pledge of real talk, I present to you an uncensored, no holds barred description of events. Thank you and goodnight. 

I’m not sure what is going on in the Universe that’s making the fellas go bananas lately but it’s a cosmic shit storm and TLW loves! JK, I totally hate it and I’m going to need y’all to slow your collective roll for a hot second. 

1-Nicholas Sparks would be so proud.  If I request for to please not send me an email that will undoubtedly make our friendship awkward to the max, take my advice and do *not* hit send. Now shit’s all sorts of fucked. Instead, treat this situation like a rom com. Write the letter, then ceremoniously burn it, preferably near a body of water whilst playing The Cure in the background.

2-I’ll see you at the Rainbow Bridge.  My ex husband took the boys on Saturday and arrived an hour early for no real reason. Unable to figure out what to do with this extra hour, I suggested we start drinking. Don’t judge me.  It was after 10 AM and it was Strawberry Hill! For those of y’all not in the know, my ex has cried two times the entire time I’ve known him. One time was when his father had a health scare. The other time was after he watched King Kong.  For serious. Anywhoos, so he told me that he and his brother were throwing back a few (shocking) and he was suddenly overcome with sadness at the thought that after our boys die (which will be never) I would have no reason to talk to him anymore. Right. I asked him if it would make him feel better if I pinky swore that we could continue to talk even after Sammy and Scooter go to the light. He said yes, it would. So I did. Shoot me.

3-He’s just not that into you.  The third and final entertaining encounter involved a gentleman who wasn’t my boyfriend at all, then was kind of I guess and now isn’t again but we now sometimes we hang n’ bang.  And yes, I know I said I was marrying Jesus, but seriously if y’all believed that then I have some land in Florida I would like to sell you.  So it’s me and my friend at Strawberry Hill (who just so happens to be a guy who likes other guys like that)  and we meet up with my aforementioned friend who I occasionally make the sexy with.  I’ll go ahead and blame it on the alcohol because he assumed that we were…wait for it…sexing it up.  Apparently this was upsetting to him after drinking for 12 hours which makes me LOL to infinity because he just wasn’t that into me.  Gotta love the races. And day drinking. And gay friends.