Thursday, March 30, 2006
I've been trying to hold back my analysis of Black. White. until the show was over, but my impatient ways have gotten the best of me yet again.
What do you think of the show?
Personally, I think the show is…err…interesting. Not interesting in a bad way but one in an interesting way for lack of better words. I currently have a love/hate relationship with the show. While I can appreciate what Ice Cube is doing…Ummm yeah…I don’t think any show will catch the real race relations in America, raw and unedited, nor do I think Whites (whom I feel are the intended audience) will really “get” it. I like the concept though.
1. I love how real both families are. I am really feeling the Black family- The Sparks (Renee, Brian, and Nick). Sometimes I think they are talking out the side of their asses but I really like the rawness of the Black family. The father and mother hold no punches (the son, Nick, on the other hand, is a different story…) and keep it real. I like the White family-The Wurgels (Bruno, Carmen, and Rose). I actually like how unapologetic the father is, but I do have my dislikes (his constant use of the word “nigger” really irks me. I feel my eye twitching every time he does it because I feel he does it purpose) with him. I like the mother and daughter’s earnest attempts at “fitting” in to the Black world. They’re a little dramatic at times but I like how, at least according to the editing, how they at least attempt to feel how it is to be Black in America.
2. I like the “walk throughs” as the opposite race. Even though it does seem a little phony at times (I mean are the cameras actually following them or are they using hidden cameras…I know a few scenes they do use a hidden camera and you catch the “essence” of being rejected for a job application and the way Whites follow you around the store-I am so glad Carmen and Rose peeped that as “Black Women”-but of course I wouldn’t be stupid enough, as a White person, to say “I hate niggers” knowing that it would probably end up on t.v.), there is a lot to be said. Black people are usually followed in stores. Black people do get shitty customer service. White people do tend to stare at you when you walk in an “All-White” establishment. And sometimes interracial couples do get dirty looks at “All-Black” events.
3. I like the cursing F/X allows. F/X allows a lot of damn cursing in their shows…I love it. I started watching The Shield after I was flipping channels and one of the characters said “sh*t”…Haven’t missed an episode yet. What’s the big deal with cursing anyway? There’s more cursing in pre-school than on t.v. I always find it funny how these so-called “parental advisory” groups are quick to jump over t.v., video games, and music videos when children nowadays pick up more f*cked up shit in school than on t.v. I know kids right now who can roll a blunt better than the best weed smoker. Age: 4. Where did they learn it? At home. But the little muthaf*cker can’t watch Grillz because it is “too sexual”. Go figure. Nothing catches the essence of a through chewing out by a Black mama and daddy with out all the blips and beeps. I love the charged conversations between the parents. I love the spoken word class Rose participates in. I loved the “edited” private conversations.
^^^The show is decent. If you’ve never seen it, it comes on the F/X channel at 10 pm Eastern time on Wednesdays. I think the reruns come on Thursdays or Fridays (I forget).
I think the concept works because there are folks out there like Bruno and Carmen. Those who are “blind” to the race problem and spit the same old “I treat others how I wanted to be treated therefore there is no racism because I treat everyone the same” crap but we all know that’s bull. While I have never been called a “nigger” to my face by someone other than a Black person, a lot of my family members have had that experience. They grew up in the dirty South where you were called a nigger so much some swore it was their name! My grandmother was called a “nigger” by a white woman before. Let’s just say that was the last time someone called my grandmother something than her birth name. My mother was called a “nigger” as a little girl. This was back when her neighborhood was a majority White, middle class neighborhood and my family were the first Blacks on the block <---Need I mention the immediate “White Flight” that occurred? Some little girl called my mother, The “King Kong Ain’t Got Sh*t On ME”, a “nigger”. Family story tells of the same little girl spitting up a tooth after the thorough ass whooping she got. Sure she was suspended for most of the year, but those Whites kids left my mama alone after that.
I’ve experienced little blatant racism thus far, but don’t think I haven’t gotten a lot of the subtle racism. Yes people, there is a difference. I ain’t never had to “Choke A Bitch” over disrespecting my color, but I have almost gotten locked up due to my constant back talking to the police. Fuck them anyway!
There are obvious flaws to Black. White. But I think the main problem, for me, is the “settings” that they prop them into. Bars, malls, walking down the street, fairs, etc. You experience racism here but there are other places to observe. Hell the train, the city bus, driving, restaurants…There are so many places other than the confined places that they use.
Here are several observations that I have peeped that contribute to the flaws:
1. The makeup. I hate it. No scratch that- I hate it on The Sparks. Brian looks like a damn predator (although he is a pretty Black man), Renee…Well she just look like a light skinned woman with a bad weave, and Nick looks…well like Michael Jackson. Only fruiter. I’m sorry but they are the ugliest White people ever! Any thought on how I would look White flew out the window. I think I would look like a hot sh*tty mess as a white woman. Probably like Liza Minnelli or something. Only younger.
The Wurgels, though, look nice as Black people. But did they really have to put Carmen and Bruno is the nappiest, tackiest wigs they could find? I don’t know too many Blacks who rock that nappy ass Afro look…And I live in DC where some folks like to pick a year and stick with it. Rose…Got Damn! She looks good as a Black girl. Hell, she could fool me- easily. The red lipstick has got to go through. I like Rose actually. She looks as if she could be a cool “White Girl Friend” that most Black girls pick up along the way. She is the most open minded of them all, I think. She does fall victim to the “WG Crying All The Time” sh*t that irks me. But as a Black girl…I’d hit it (And I am the Proud President of the “I Loves Me The Penis” Club). I remember the episode when she revealed herself to her spoken word class and they stopped by the next day *dead* at Black guy’s reaction when he saw her “White”. He damn near had a stroke…Hell all the Black people in her class damn near fell out.
2. Nick. Is it me or does it appear that Nick did not want to be on the show? Like his parents forced him on the show? He doesn’t have many scenes (some times I forget he’s on the show) and when he does, my back hand is itching to cross his face. He works my damn nerves! He doesn’t care about anything. He doesn’t do anything and his mouth is a little too fresh for my taste. Let that had been me talking to my parents the way he does sometimes. Let’s just say my mama would get booted from the show for beating the hell outta my ass on camera. You know damn well the White cameramen are not jumping in to break up sh*t! I’d have random bruises on my face, broken arms and legs, missing teeth…The works. In fact, they would have to edit me out the show because I would be looking so f*cked up. He is a little ignorant and I think he says what he says to get a response outta his parents. Like that “I care but I’m pissed at you so Ima say whatever to just piss you off” answers. I mean he bought a f*cking watch when he had one on at the mall?! A $150 one at that. My momma woulda slapped the sh*t outta me at the store just on GP (General Purpose). I try to like him because he’s young, but I can’t do it. I also think he’s a little wimpy. Mr “I get kicked out of school because I had a knife but technically it wasn’t mine, I was holding it down for my friend and took the wrap because I’m a G” ass. He would get that ass so beat at my high school. He just looks like a punk to me.
3. These “Black/White” classes. You know “teach the opposite race how to be the opposite race” class. Education in Blackness. Education in Whites. Blah Blah. I think this is the most racist part of the show! Come on, I’m going to teach you to talk “Black dialect”? WTF? Doesn’t this reinforce the notion that Whites talk “proper” while all Blacks speak “Ebonics”? Granted, they do make several good points, as how Blacks dialect changes when they are around other Blacks or with their family, but all Blacks does not do this. I don’t think there is a way to be “Black”. I think you’re born with it. That’s just me. You can’t teach someone to be a member of the “opposite” race. Sure you can assimilate but deep down you can not deny your heritage. You can not deny what’s part of you. You can’t give someone some inside information! All Blacks don’t “peep in the shower or the medicine cabinet…That’s just what Black people do”. I don’t! (Ok well I have been guilty of being all up in the medicine cabinet but you know Black folks don’t keep medicine in that cabinet)! While I kinda like the concept, I don’t really like it because I think it just reinforces negative stereotypes.
4. The wardrobe. Would it kill them to match? Why do the Wurgels go out looking homeless when they go out as Blacks? I mean they look homeless period but you know Black folks (with some exceptions of course) dressed to kill. We are some sharp looking people! WTF was up with the Kente cloth suits? Were they really going to wear that to church? A Black church? Rose dresses decent but she makes her back slide into “WG Color Coordination” at times. The Sparks look a little bogus but well they are in character *lol*
5. Bruno is a racist. Period. I feel sorry for racists. Jesus loves you. I’m waiting for Brian to hop over the table and beat the sh*t outta him. *dead* at Brian’s expressions some times when he looks at Bruno. Oh yes Brian...I peeps them. That is pure hatred in its rawest form. I don’t Bruno will learn and I don’t think he cares to learn. The “rap” video he made? He made himself look stupid as f*ck and White People you should disown his ass- quick! I don’t Bruno and I don’t like men like Bruno. As my grandmother says, “He has to meet his Maker someday and He sees everything”. I can at least give Rose and Carmen some props but Bruno irks me. Only thing I like is: At least he is honest. I would rather have a blatant racist than the subtle ones who are more likely to stab you in the back. I do think Bruno got a little too excited at seeing Carmen as a Black woman though. Hmmm…Maybe he was rejected as a Black girl as a teen or something. Maybe he has a color complex or something. Watch out Carmen…He might start bringing home some Cover Girl in “Mocha” for you to put on at night.
I can’t wait for the next season. What do you think?
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Don't Walk Around Your Apartment Naked
I found out I have a Peeping Tom who lives across from me. How I found out? The bastard waved!
I was ironing some clothes to go out to Lucky Strike later with co-workers and ok ok Shawnna's Getting Some video came on. I like that song for some reason. It's a little dumb but I like the beat. Plus I like the heel-toe they do in the video. So I have on some panties and basically no shirt or bra because the first thing I do when I come home is take off my bra. I really hate wearing a bra so usually I take it off as soon as possible. I seem to think by taking it off somehow this will move the growth along, like the bra is constricting my growth or something *lol* I mean I have been a 34B since 16. I mean I went from a 34A to a 34B overnight...Why can't I seem to go from a 34B to a 34C? I'm just saying....There's 12 year olds with bigger breasts than me. At least I have an ass, I guess.
I guess you can call me an exhibitionist because I love being naked. I am a sexy b*tch. I primp and preen so much in the mirror I think my BF think I am crazy or something. It used to be my own private thing but when you live with someone, there's no such thing as privacy. Granted, I don't lounge all over the furniture and I don't walk around naked too much but I live on the 7th floor of a building, so I'm pretty high up. I assumed I was safe.
I was wrong.
So I'm ironing and dancing when I happen to glance over...And there's a guy smoking a cigarette on his balcony watching. I don't know how long he was there but obviously he was enjoying himself. So being the drama queen that I am, I shriek and shut the blinds and run for my bathrobe. Why I don't know because he's already seen my butt clapping abilities but a woman has to have something sacred right? So I kinda peep through the blinds to see if the perv was still there. He was. He waved to my ass and went in his apartment.
I was so embarrassed.
I didn't even get a clear look at him nor do I know the apartment number that he lives in. Sure I can find out but I ain't lurking over to his apartment by myself to curse him out. Shit he can be a serial killer or something and drag me in the apartment and tie my ass up in the closet where he will torture my body and then dispose of me in the dumpster by the Hilton or something. I ain't gonna go all Action Jackson on him (with out some protection, that is) but I can imagine the conversation. I mean, I can't curse him out for being, well, a man can I? I mean, I would be insulted if I was dancing in front of his ass and he didn't look! I'd be like, "Who the fuck do he think he is? Do he not know who I am? I'm Tenacious BITCH!" and put 'em on the glass for him to see.
^^Ok I wouldn't do that but I would be insulted.
So when the BF walked in from work, I told him what happened. His reaction: this fool laughed. I mean I laughed too but I whined to him that I was violated and I demand he do something.
His answer, "Your conceited ass would be upset if he didn't look"
^^^Knows me well.
For the time being, I'll keep my clothes on. I'd hate to have my head posted on some woman's body on the internet.
Unless she got 34Cs...Then I probably wouldn't be insulted.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
I am really getting through my current movie slump. I went to see a movie before it actually hit the shelf at Blockbusters. Granted, I didn't see the movie when it first hit the theaters, but a few days late ain't bad?
My review: 4.5 out of 5 stars.
A really good movie, great plot, superb acting, and great dialogue. I'm not going to give too much away because I tend to tell you the entire movie, but I would recommend everyone see the movie. I love Spike Lee and, well, I will go see anything he has his brilliant fingers in. Denzel, was great as usual, I thought they were going to paint him as a dirty cop (again) in a movie (ONE damn movie and forever Whites will see Denzel as "dirty" cop *shakes fist at Training Day DVD...I didn't even like this movie that much* but I was pleasantly surprised. His friend, the sexy detective with the hard to pronounce and spell name, oh yeah he's my new eye candy. He played in something else, I think. Do any one know the name of the movie? That bothered me. I hate seeing actors/actresses that I recognize from something else and I can't remember so I waste precious moments racking my brain on the movie that I might have seen them from but then I can't remember the title of that movie but I do remember the plot...*sigh* Pet Peeve No. 70- My sporadic memory.
Jodie- I was surprised. She was looking good in that movie. I heard she was all lesbo-ed out (Is that true or are my blogs just being funny because of her manish voice) but home girl was rocking them suits and stilettos like it was nothing. Side note: I knew her feet was hurting when she was walking in the part. And then being in the heels the entire day? She had that Silence of the Lambs courage. Had no idea what her actually job was but it seemed a little shady. Getting Bin Laden's nephew a condo in NY? Umm yeah, she was into something dirty.
^^Ok Ok I'm trying to control giving away the entire plot but this movie was really good. The best I have seen in a while. And no Get Rich Or Die Trying was not a good movie. I did peep the subliminal dig at Fiddy...You know his slow ass ain't gone get it though. Olivia's gonna have to break it down to him.
The movie did teach me a valuable thing that I have been taking for granted: WEAR MATCHING BRAS AND PANTIES! You never know when that McDonald's might get held up and you are forced to strip. <--Reference to the movie. I'm guilty of the crime every once in a while but when you're tired and groggy and don't feel like digging in the drawer for the matching panties sometimes because you know they at the bottom of the drawer which means you have to dump out the drawer, shift through the underwear, and then put them all back...You gotta rough it sometimes. Inside Man has now shown me different.
There's a lot of clever twists in the movie that will have you second guessing who are hostages and who are the criminals <--Brillant. And the end is amazing! I never saw it coming, well I did based on the beginning, but I didn't connect it until the end.
I will, how ever, tell you that I was disappointed about the hoola about Box 392. Had there been a birth certificate about an illigetimate Black child or something, I would have been pleasantly suprised. What was in Box 392 is nothing that most of Fortune 500 companies were built upon (movie's quote). I think all banks were built from it. I did kind of feel sorry for the old guy but you can tell his old ass was a "G". Denzel betta watch his back.
There were scenes that had Spike Lee scrawled all over it. That's why I like Spike. Critics can down him all they want but he keeps it real. There are several racially charged scenes that only Spike can portray correctly. Although I did not know men's hair were that damn long under that turban! I think I said out loud, "Damn that nigga got some buttas". Please excuse the ignorance, I've always assumed their hair was really short under the turban *smacks self in forehead*. I was, however, rolling at his refusal to answer anything with his turban, not a turban, but his turban! I also peeped the typical police "lie"- "Naw it was a lot going on...You didn't hear "Iraqi"...It was a lot of noise and confusion" *dead at rebuttal* Gotta see the movie to hear the classic line (that is, if you have never been pulled over the police and put up an argument...People who have you know what the hell he said back)! That was kinda fucked up that this man was thrown out the bank, bound and gagged--basically helpless--and when they ripped off the hoody, the police went crazy! Ok, ok sure he had a black box around his neck, but it wasn't just that...It was the fact that he was "Iraqi" and was on some "terrorist" tactics. *hangs head at dumb, White Americans* When will you learn.....
So everyone go see the movie so I can discuss it with you!!
Sunday, March 26, 2006
No point...I just love those "Bacardi and Cola" commercials with the Black Guy (Cola?) and the White Guy (Bacardi?). They crack me up. A little racist-I mean why can't the Black guy be Bacardi-But still funny as hell?
Am I the only one that laughs at commercials?
I look forward to commercials especially those selling particular items. Give me an M&M and a Geico (Well I really just love the "Caveman" ones and the "woman: Honey do I look fat it this? Man (reading newspaper): You Betcha. Announcer: In the time it take him to pull out the sofa you can save 15% or more on your insurance") commercials and I will roll like I'm watching my old Def Comedy Jam DVDS. I discuss commercials like it's a movie plot or something. Maybe that's just me.
Does anyone have a particularly funny commercial?
^^^My friends call me a "Laugh Whore" <---"Hanging Around Too Many White People" Slang---Meaning I will laugh at anything.
Especially sh*t that is technically not funny. Yall already know how I feel about a lot of the movies that are out there. I'm laughing at horror, drama, action, foreign...Hell any type of film that I find funny (even though technically it's not a comedy). Mostly at the bad acting. Is it really that hard to act? I do it all the time...For free. I deserve an Oscar for all the acting I've done over the years. From dramatic dialogues as to why I shouldn't get an ass whooping to over the top "orgasms" from unfulfilling partners (And when you can't please a multi-orgasmic woman with an extremely high sex drive whose nipples get hard from staring at Krispy Kreme doughnuts too long...You have a problem. Not me <--Ok my nipples don't get hard from Krispy Kremes....anymore--But you) to twisting my face to portray the proper expressions when someone is telling me a story (that I'm half listening to anyway) and although I don't really care about your Baby Daddy Drama Part 65, Ima pretend to feel where you coming from when you catch him creeping for the 1000th time...That takes skill.
Corny jokes? It could be the corniest joke in the world and I will laugh because it is the corniest joke in the world. Pick up lines? Who doesn't laugh at some of the pick-up lines out there? Sure, this might hurt the guy's feelings. Here he is being serious, done worked up the courage to walk across the path, work through the "Girlfriend" Clique, man up to their probing and accusing eyes and sneers...Only to have me laugh at their best line. I'm not being mean, contrary to the belief, when a guy hit me with the "Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel" line but I'm laughing because, well, it's funny. As in ha ha funny.
I also laugh at bogus stuff. Don't trip and fall in front of me. My immediate reaction: laughter. I will crack the f*ck up. Hell, I laugh at myself when I fall what makes you think you are excluded. I remember I tried to curse a guy out and tried to do that sexy "Take That" walk and promptly tripped and fell right in front of the guy I just played. Call it karma; I called it funny as hell. I laughed my ass off. The next day, getting that ankle wrapped? Funny because a girl slipped down the stairs in front of me. She fell hard too. I was laughing too hard to help her up.
I rarely get embarrassed by the antics that I do. I do blush on occasions though. Like the drunken Blackmail pictures my friends have that they will sell to the press when I get famous. Ummm yeah me looking in the camera with the drunk sexy look? You've seen pictures like that. You're drunk, gazing into the camera trying to sip your drink seductively. Never mind the fact that your hair is all over your head, one eye is half closed, and you got a little bit of crust in the corner of your mouth. According to you, you were ready for the runway that night. Yeah, that'll be the cover of Star....Along with my alleged Drinking problem and "sources" quoting my long addiction to that white (Wine, that is).
Sometimes I can't help but laugh at stupid sh*t out loud and then every one gives me that "You Bogus As Hell" glare. Like the girl in one of my classes that had narcolepsy and she was educating the class on her condition and went to sleep "Deuce Bigalow" style. Oh my friend and I had to run out the class. You've ever laughed so hard, you start crying and you start gasping for air like you're having a heart attack? Yeah that was us. Or the handicapped guy who fell out his chair? Bogus as f*ck but I laughed. I don't even know why that was funny but I laughed. I did feel bad though so don't send me hate emails ok?
Funny ass pictures? *dead* That's how I got the damn Blog addiction that I have now. Reading funny ass captions to pictures.
I love people who have some sense of humor. If you're too uptight for me, 9 times out of 10 we won't be friends. I hate stick in the muds. People that are so serious they can't tell the difference between obvious sarcasm and a statement. They wanna "educate" you and sh*t, take all the fun out the comment and sh*t. I got co-workers (including The Prick) like that. Just so damn serious all the time. I'm like, "Damn aren't you 24? Where's ya sense of humor?" I get the dreary, "Life's too serious to take it lightly" answer.<---WTF? I live life up to the fullest.
Sure I say dumb stuff (Some times my mouths says something before my mind catches it) and at times my 22 years clearly reflect (I mean I'm sorry I was, like 9, when a lot of culturally significant events were going on. Sorry I had to be in the house when the street lights came on and my bed time was, like, 9 pm. I guess my mom didn't get that memo) but I'm mature (sometimes). I'm not a "Young and Dumb" woman. Not girl. I can't be an uptight 22 year old. I refuse. I'm not thinking of marriage and babies. I'm not thinking of my biological clock. I'm not thinking of every man as a husband. Hell I'm not thinking of what the hell I'm going to wear tomorrow for work. I'm thinking of the Family Guy episode I'm watching and the upcoming episode of Boondocks.
I eventually want all of those things (well Baby singular not babies plural. I watch The Discovery Channel and TLC. Oh...Hell To The Naw!) but hell not today and not tomorrow! I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.
Until then...Ima sip my Yak while watching Geico commercials.
Do people have sex to music anymore? Or am I the only one who's too lazy to make cds of various sexual songs?
It's not that I hate having sex with music playing in the background but isn't that a distraction? I mean, I tend to tune out the world when I'm getting my world rocked, but what about the folks that are not as multi-orgasmically blessed as myself?
I just bring this dumb ass thought up because I've noticed on my "baby"- The Shuffle-that I have a lot of songs of the sexual persuasion that I just listen to. They don't put me in the mood, I strictly like the song, beat, or lyrics. A friend was looking through my play list and asked why did I have a lot of "old school" love songs and I never thought of it like that. So we began a conversation about High School and how it seems in high school every one "did it" to a cd. It became something like a requirement to have sex with a cd on or something. Not just any cd but a love cd. Of course this was kinda before "burned cds" became really popular (crazy considering I graduated in 2001 and by the end of 2002 everybody and they mama made burned cds off of their computers but hey I went to an inner-inner city high school) so you basically had to pick a cd that had a repetitive number of slow songs without any of the fast dance songs in-between.
Ok...Admitting time. Know what cds I loved to get busy off of and I secretly listen to today? Sisqo's Unleash The Dragon and R Kelly's TP2.com. Yeah yeah stop laughing, I sure some of yall had a Shaq cd somewhere in your collection. For some reason, I just loved these two cds. Ok, Ok so I downloaded a few of both cds onto my Shuffle but that's besides the point.
Now that I look back, though, at the lyrics, I realized just how lame (and crazy R Kelly) really was. I mean I would get upset if my boyfriend at the time would try to feel me up in his room before his mama came home and he did not have one of the two cds on. That was, like, an insult.
Although I did notice R. Kelly was kind of a rapist. I mean I always thought R. Kelly was a little bit, um, strange but I liked him all the same. Down Low? Oh I requested that on The Box (remember that? Yeah I'm taking it back to The 96 Dayz Of Summer and when it was 2 for 1...Ordered the original and get the remix for free) right along with Immature (You couldn't tell me nothing about Batman, Romeo and LDB) *dead* until my momma got the phone bill and deaded that sh*t quick, fast, and in a hurry. Have you ever hear Don't You Say No? That's my best friend's and I favorite song to roast on but at the time was on of my cuts to get cut, nah mean? I mean if you don't know the lyrics...Please find them on the internet. Yall know I'm too lazy to post them. *lol* Those are classic "WTF You Mean No Ass...I Mean I Took You Out For Chedda Biscuits And Errthing. If You Don't Give It To Me Ima Take It" lyrics. And then again, it makes me kinda uncomfortable to know while I was getting busy to these lyrics, he was getting busy with some girl my age (at the time) and pissing on them and that poor chile is the inspiration for those f*cked up lyrics. *waves fist* Damn you R. Kelly! F*cked up everything! Can't even think of you as a "baby maker" lyricist more like a "baby raper" instead!
Sisqo, I don't know I just liked that cd. I think it's like the first five songs or something that I loved. Of course, the brutha didn't last the five songs but still, those were the best "10 but seems like an hour" minutes of my life! Doesn't it seem like sex last longer than what it really is? I mean, I don't want a two-minute brutha (Unless he gives me the best two minutes of my life) but at the same time I don't need three hour sex. Shit, I get tired, too. Coochie and thighs all chafed up and shit. Sweating hard as hell. And you know men are slick and f*ck you on your "side" of the bed and guess who ends up in the wet spot? ME!!! Yeah yall ain't slick...I've been peeped the "Ima slowly turn and twist her onto the other side of the bed so she can get the wet spot" thing. I hate the damn wet spot. It's like a fight to get my boyfriend to sleep on the other side of the bed. His answer: Uh, baby, well, uh that's your side. Nigga, it's a king size bed! Ain't no such thing as "sides"! This ain't Popeye's! And hey sometimes I just want 10 minutes. That quick, hard sex. When you just get in there and just beat it up for those 10 minutes. Best sex in the world sometimes. Sometimes I don't even want foreplay. No kissing, no licking, nothing. Just "some hard dick". <--So graphic. Sorry all my sensitive readers! I'm blessed with a high sex drive, multi-orgasms, and a tight cooch. It's is amazing what those Cosmo magazines will teach you about your coochie muscles. I tighten those bad boys for 10 minutes a day. Some women could really use a Cosmo magazine. It does wonders. Men (and Ladies...I guess), can you really tell if a coochie is loose or is that pure exaggeration? Someone...Let me know. I am curious. Like, I always jokes hoes coochies are "swinging low sweet chariot" but can a man really tell? Does it feel different or something? Oh yeah, can a man really tell if their ladies are cheating on them strictly through the cooch? Someone hook a sista up with some random knowledge. *lol*
^^^See how my mind went in the gutter just that quick?
But now...I don't even want music. Sure, on "special" occasions my boyfriend might slip on a cd but he knows it irritates me. I don't need Usher yodeling in my damn ear. I will, however, take a Tyrese. Mmm...Tyrese will get it. It's like, it's ok, but so lame. I remember in college a guy who had a crush on me tried to set the mood up in a dorm room (yeah a dorm room with a room mate in a noisy, nosy one at that) with some music. Granted the cuts were really nice but um yeah I left that dorm with my panties intact. After all, I had a boyfriend. "Studying" for that class we both failing...Yeah right nigga! Don't try to use that "We the only Blacks in the Class and should stick together" routine. I sleep in class. You sleep in class. What notes could you possibly take sleeping? I just can't do it. I like the sound of, well, sex. Thighs slapping, grunts, moans, that wet slapping noise...Stuff like that.
^^^But hey that's me. Do anyone out still "do it" to music and if so, what do you listen to?<---Doesn't that sound so High School? Doing it...Although my friends and would use food references as our code for sex...You know my mama was listening on the other end a minute before she hollered for me to "Get Off The Damn Phone"! We had "Doing The Dew", "Eating The Muffin and Dunkin Minis", "Getting That Krispy Kreme On", etc <---Yeah you can tell I'm a hungry bastard.
Just a Random Thought.....
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Sorry I haven't been around a few days, I have been getting worked harder than a slave the past couple of days. To my wonderful audience, Thank ya for coming by and being entertained by my random thoughts *blows kiss* Feel free to leave a comment if ya want...Make Sure You Check Out Some Of My Personal Daily Reads...Genius.
Friday I go in to work tired as ever and mad because I had to come in early. George Mason is chilling at the hotel for a few days due to the NCAA tournament *Commence White Executive Dick-Sucking Mode* Surprise, surprise I'm not a sports fan so you know yours truly can care less about the team...Unless someone is going to the NBA and want a lil Chocolate Thunder on their arms <--Right who am I kidding...They going straight for the white girls *lol*
So I see a few of the Black players (although isn't 99% of their team Black? Just asking...), I mean you can't miss their lanky 6' and up asses walking through the lobby anyway so I give a wave to a few of the little cute ones who I wouldn't mind sneaking into their rooms with a master key and lo and behold a manager appears at my right arm like a damn killer in the night. He's notorious for sneaking up on people...He must don't know he'd get sliced doing that in Chicago...
Now I can't stand this prick anyway, he is the worst type of White Guy to be around in my opinion. One, he needs to get laid. Two, he's too uptight and conservative. Get the stick out your ass White Guys. Three, I think he's racist but he's that slick "I got three Black friends so that mean I can't be racist" White person. He says what I think, in my paranoid Black mind, are slick racist but technically they can go either way kind of remarks but when I call him out on them I come across as "oversensitive" <--Don't you hate that? *waves fist* White people have gotten sooo smart....
Now I have seen his "girlfriend" (Did I mention I think he's a closet homo as well?) and she's a gorgeous woman. I don't think she's laying it down in the bed because sometimes he has the bad attitude of a man with blue balls who ain't getting ass so he's gonna snap at you on sight because it's clear you're getting yours and wants to make your life as miserable as his. He's like one of those white guys whom talk all that conservative shit but probably got a gay, Black lover somewhere out in the streets. I think he's aware of my general disdain for him so we avoid contact as much as possible...Otherwise I know a trip to HR and the unemployment line are in my immediate future.
He calls me in the office to basically quote company policy about "mingling" with the guests. He get the "Who The hell You Talking To?" eyebrow. Sensing my anger, He wiggles in his seat, stammering, "Well, uh, I saw you wave to them and I know they're young and you're young..." so I have to cut him off quickly and read his ass:
"First of all [prick's name] I hope your not insinuating what I think you're insinuating. I hope [although Black people don't hope we wish a nigga would....] that you're not calling me some low-class groupie who would risk her job to hop in bed with some kids who are barely legal. I hope that you're not insinuating that all Black women are trolling for booty, and because I am young, although I might mention I am only 4 years younger than you, I might revert back to a college groupie and you want to quote company policy [even though you know I threw that damn handbook away and only read all of one page from it] to me because of a wave. That so-called wave that has me in this office is called a "friendly" wave. I don't know what kind of waves you give [probably of the "limp wrist" variety] but mine was strictly platonic. *stands up* And the last time I checked, I thought your degree was in Hotel Management and not Wave-ology. It's called customer service. Maybe you should look that up in the handbook"
And I walked out his office. Oh you know I wanted to get gutter but I left before it went that route. I also wanted to mention that the team waved because it's not too many Black faces in the hotel and they waved to acknowledge me as a Black person and not as potential after-the-game booty. I can tell they are tired of the executives yapping at their heels because I know they don't give them boys a moment's peace. If they even think they see one, they're quickly tugging at their arms for a "photo-op" or the fans that were lucky enough to get a room there want to stop and ask them (or us) random dumb ass questions and then they want autographs and pictures as well. I'm sure Black athletes get tired of the same white faces, sucking their dicks and talking about them behind their backs, and just crave a friendly Black face every once and awhile. But you know White Folks will never understand that.
Needless to say after the confrontation, the prick left my ass alone. We were busy the entire day and after work, I agreed to go out with some of the "cool" people from work for drinks and club hopping.
We hit up Dave and Buster's and proceeded to get slizzard out the ass. One of the guys at work knew one of the bartenders and we got a sweet hook-up on drinks. It pays to know somebody that know somebody. His guy hooked us up! I mean I had 2 Armaretto Sours, Four Shots of Tequila, Three Rum and Cokes, and a Gin and Tonic Water. Yes a bitch got slizzard in that bad boy. I'm walking around drunk as hell, playing games, flirting, and just clowning with the crew. We were all out the ass drunk.
We easily had a $100 dollar tab (including food and drink). Our grand total: $40. Not only were we wasted good because he made our drinks extra strong (you know how weak those drinks are sometimes) so we laced his ass with good tip money. That's one thing though, if someone is hooking you up with something, please lace their pockets. That's how you leave happy and your hook up continue to, well, hook you up. No one likes cheapness. I gave dude $40 for a tip (and we all split that $40 tab 6 ways)...He's now my "hook up" for when I come to Dave and Buster's. Oh yeah, the cool white boy waiter who didn't charge me for me for my meal (must have been my "Objects Under This Shirt Are Larger Than They Appear" tee)? I gave him a $20 tip...He's also my hook-up for food/drinks because next week he start bartending. Shout out to Micks and David!
^^^I was balling that night. My bills were paid and I had plenty of extra money in the Checking left *lol*
But of course you can't let everyone know your hook ups because you know Black Folks will fuck that shit up in a heart beat.
We basically get thrown out of D&B (because it was actually closing and we had overstayed our grace period) and hit up the clubs Platinum, Drinks and Avenue. Got a hook-up from those spots as well. We danced, got some more drinks, and partied! I musta danced with every dude up in the club.
One thing about me: I go to the club to dance. I don't go to look cute (I'm already that) or stand against the wall playing the "pouty video chick who gets all the men by standing against the wall playing the pouty video chick" routine. If I paid $25 to get in and I only got $20 in Checking that gotta last me until the end of the week...Best believe I am going to get my money's worth. My girls are always on me because as soon as we hit the club, I hit the bar and then the dance floor. I love to dance. Granted I ain't the Jamaican Dancehall Queen that I think I am but I can get down with the best of them. No "lean wit it, rock wit it", "drop down and get ur eagle on", "chicken head" dances here...I do have standards you know.
It's only under extreme circumstances that I will not dance at the club (a fresh relaxer, actually tired as hell and being dragged out by force, and on "the cycle" are a few) but I can not stand the "club boyfriend" and if I think you have those tendencies then I will not dance with you. Ladies you know what I'm talking about...The man you give just one dance to, it don't even have to be a dance song and you don't even have to give him your full dancing capabilities, and he proceed to follow you around the club like he's your man, boguarding dances and advances from other men like he is, well, your man. I usually get a few of them every time I go out and yes I had two of them in my drunken state for every club we hit. I think it's because men are so used to women not dancing in the club that when he find one that do he gotta stay near her...I mean no telling when he might get another dance right?
I had to basically bring up my "Dance Minimum" rule which is basically: YOU ONLY GET ONE DANCE! You get one dance and as soon as the song changes...So do my dance partner. I ain't trying to be latched to your ass the whole night...Unless you can really dance (and not just stand there and lean back while I do all the work) and I might let you get a few more dances. Might being the word of the day.
Oh I had a good ass time. We all had a good time. Surprising when folks are not at work, they can be a lot a fun. Well they are fun at work, they're the few that I correspond with outside of work, but we had a good time and we suppose to hit the club tonight.
I guess I don't have to mention I came home smelling like alcohol, weed, and sweat. The feet were pounding like hell. Gotta bust out the post-club flip-flops because my feet are too swollen to fit in my shoes.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
I guess I am a very picky and particular person because I have a lot of pet peeves. What's the phrase? "I See The Glass As Half-Empty Instead Of Half-Full" or something like that? I guess. I see the proverbial glass as someone who has spilled Yak on my $300 suit and now I'm pissed because they was coming around those curves too quick...Another pet peeve *lol* I felt Pinky's pain in Friday After Next.
I think I have anger management problems. I found that out after backhanding some female at school and my RA recommended me for the class. Don't people know that those "self help" classes only give you better tips on being sneakier with the vice that you have that got you in that class in the first place? I learned how to smack a person in the face without leaving a bruise, how to curse someone out in another language, even what to say to the judge at your aggravated assault and battery hearing, and get this...How to cry on cue at said hearing and earn mercy from the court. I was in there scribbling notes, interviewing people, and basically just begging for advice. Yeah...You can tell I walked away learning a slew of material that I should not learn and nothing from what I should.
I realized I was beyond redemption when I was asked not to come back after gleefully recapping a story of how I was removed from the local Chinese Buffet for senting it up because I was given a limit at the "All You Can Eat" buffet. I guess screaming "I'll burn this shit to the ground if I don't get another plate" was a bad idea.
I don't think I'm an angry person. For the most part, I'm pretty easy going. I laugh and joke around most of the time but it's my pet peeves have my eye twitching and me screaming "NO...WIRE...HANGERS"!!! I also think alcohol fuels my anger. Nothing is worse than an angry, drunk, Black woman. Luckily this sides rarely come out but when it does, I go berserk! I will swear you're hollering at me, trying to send it up with me, when indeed you're trying to talk over the loud music. You could be the bartender that refuse to serve me another drink and I will try to flip the bar over even though it's your job to refuse to serve me another "Blue MoFo". But according to my friends, I rarely display "Angry Black Drunk Girl". For the most part, I am the "Funny Ass Who Befriends Everyone While Having Random Train Of Thought Conversations And Usually Pass Out After Completely Doing Something To Embarrass My Ass Because Oh Yes Indeed There Are Pictures Of My Drunken Antics And Due To The Advancements of Cell Phones Audio Clips And Wake Up Wondering Where The Hell Am I, What's This Random Bruise, Why Do I Only Have One Shoe, Where's My Voice, Why Is This Garbage Can In The Room Did I Really Get That Drunk No Loud Noises Please" Girl.
But please...Do Not Test My Gangsta.
Take the other morning. I didn't have to be at work until 11 am so I decided to stop by McDonald's to get some breakfast. Now until a week ago, I swore McDonald's served breakfast until 11 am but after being rudely told by the little Hispanic girl behind the counter (in Broken English at that. Ain't that 'bout a bitch?) that breakfast is served until 10:30 am, I left out the door a little bit earlier to make sure I got there on time.
Why did I have to go postal? Why did I have to show my Black, natural ass in McDonald's? Why was I late to work and so mad I couldn't enjoy my food the way I wanted? Why the hell do I keep asking Why?
I get to counter. First of all, hood ass sista at the register. I love DC but I swear some people in DC pick a year, let's just say 1993 for this girl, and just stick with it. One, she had the Poetic Justice braids. I wasn't aware women still wore their hair braided in that style. I thought those went out of style when women started getting Micros, Kinky Twists, "Alicia Keys' braids...Maybe that's just me. Two, she was dark skinned and had hooker red lip stick...With Black lip liner around her mouth. Yeah, hot ass mess. Three, she had to "come hither" nails...Long as fuck and fire engine red. You know the ghetto nails on full display in every little "urban" movie? Yeah they were just like that. So looking at her, popping her gum and twirling her fingers around her braids, I knew there would be problems.
Never mind the fact that she walked off from her register to answer her cell phone, but she was the only one at the register...Yet 12 people were behind the counter. So already about 4 of my pet peeves were rearing their ugly head.
So I finally get to the register after what seems like years and ordered the Hot Cakes meal. This heffa looked at me, looked at the clock and told me, "Breakfast ain't being served. We on the lunch menu now".
The time: 10:31 am.
Breakfast stopped being served at 10:30 am.
Now I tried to hold back but I asked what the hell was a minute? I mean I see some damn hotcakes and sausage right there and why couldn't I have those?
She arched an eyebrow and rudely said, "Well since breakfast ain't being served, I ain't ringing up a breakfast order and besides they 'bout to throw those away anywayz". Cow even stepped back and folded her arms like, "What"?
Can you guess my reaction?
Yes I went the fuck off! The manager had to bring her ass out there because I raised hell! She was not going to keep me from the hot cakes that was resting less than three feet from the counter! After arguing with the manager and the cashier for a few minutes, I got my fucking hot cakes. I was pissed, the people behind me was pissed. You know I had to tell one of them to shut the fuck up because I heard someone say some slick ass shit.
Arguing with McDonald's, I walked in 10 minutes late to work. So you know that looked bad. Black...Always on CP Time...And you walk in with a food bag? And then the bitch forgot my butter and syrup pack.
I was mad the whole day. Let this be a lesson:
1. Never wear outdated hair styles...Too many hair books out there to walk around looking like you're giving a personal tribute to 1990.
2. Red lipstick and Black lip liner don't mix. Hell lip liner don't mix period. Just say no.
3. Leave the ghetto looking nails alone. Especially if you work in food service.
4. Don't ever get between me and food. Ever.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
I have a confession...I am a horrible driver. *wipes forehead* Whew...Glad I got that out the way. Others may disagree with me but I know me. I am a notoriously bad driver. I speed, run various stop signs and traffic light, run over small children...That type of thing. It's like I have a heavy foot and it's always pressing down on the gas urging me to go 65 mph in a 20 mph zone.
The even craziest thing is...I have never received a ticket.
I know the cops see me...I just know it. Hell I ran a stop sign in front of a police car! What did that cop do? Apparently enjoy the rest of the doughnut he was eating because he did not move from that spot. I am like a crackhead scoping for a rock when it comes to the police. That should let you know I'm never up to any good because I stay with the "hawk eye" when it comes to the police...I'm always in the mirror looking for them, checking the side streets, busy streets, and expressways(They like to hide in the corners or in the bushes on Route 66) and when I' confident that they are not around...My Fast and The Furious personality comes out.
How fast can you really go in an Camry? Pretty damn fast, at least to me. I warn everyone who hops in the car with me (and besides my boyfriend not too many folks are willing to hop in while I am behind the wheel) to belt up because it's going to be a ride. I make a 30 minute ride into a 15 minute ride- easily. My own father (and this another reason we don't get along) refused to teach me how to drive so I had to go to driving school.
That poor white man.
Let's just say I almost caused about three fatal collusion and gave him about 50 heart attacks in the four months I was with him. I know he drank after every session...I just know it. I was turning down one-way streets, making left turns when I was in the furthermost right lane, speeding through lights, and just a host of other bad ass moves. Of course I improved but the speeding did not. I failed my driver's test two times because I was driving over the speed limit.
And get this: I did not even get my license until I was 21 *dead silence*
Yes, I was an old bitch getting my license. Now we're not going to talk about my illegal driving years but after getting ragged on *waits for audience to stop ragging on me* for x amount of years, I decided to go ahead and "make it legal". Now I thought my driving was fine but when it was time to do the "Rules of the Road" version of driving, I found out I sucked. I did not follow a rule out of that book...I broke so many I was nervous that I would not make it.
Let me say now that I hate the DMV in Champaign and I hope someone burn the shit to the ground. First, there's only one DMV in that whole town and everyone has to pass through it. Two, they are racist as hell. Like 1950's Jim Crow racist. This bitch let a white woman go in front of me (Bitch was older than Jesus by who the fuck cares...I was there in line for 45 minutes) and then promptly ignored me when she finished helping the old bag. Let's just say the outcome of that situation was me getting put out. Third, they ask you every single fucking question in the world. You go there for a change of address and muthafuckers wanna ask you 15 million questions, like "Why are you changing the address" (Duh, because I'm moving), "This is a Chicago address" (Duh because my permanent address is in Chicago...I only go to school here lady), and the killing one that usually get my eye twitching and my skin turns green, "We need an ID to verify that this ID is your ID" *silence* Yes they asked me that and needless to say...Another escorted walk out the door.
I think it is a job qualification at the DMV to work people's nerves and to see how pissed you can get them. They ask the dumbest fucking questions and really expect an answer. And don't let me get on the Asians. Any given day your ass would go in there and there's 45 Asians...Half who don't speak one word of English, the other half are their translators...And they're trying to get a Driver's License. So that's 45 minutes for every person because the fuckers behind the desk asks the standard on top of the dumb ass questions, have to inspect passports and visas, make phone calls, ask more questions, talk to the translator about shit that don't have anything to do with the task at hand and then give them the materials for the written test, let the complete that and put them in line for the driver's test.
How are you going to take a driver's test and you don't understand not one lick of English? I know some of them muthafuckers are lying...They understand English but when I walk in the DMV and see more than 5 of them...I walk out before I am escorted out.
So I failed my driver's test two times because of speed. Because apparently I went over the speed limit by 3. Yes, I was going 33 in a 30 mph zone and I failed yet the same Asian muthafucker in front of me who didn't understand one word of English passed. Ummm yeah...Pissed was not the word! Racist fuckers...Can you even compute 3 mph on the speedometer? I couldn't stand her anyway..Who the hell told you that you can roll down my windows? Bitch it's 95 degrees out and you playing with me. You know how Black people get when we're hot. Just be angry as hell. I was going to throw her ass out the car.
I got my license on the third try and lo and behold, two weeks later I got in a car wreck. Flipped a damn Enterprise rental car over on the expressway...I am lucky to be alive. How the fuck you flip a car over on the expressway you might be asking and walked away from it?
Trying to turn off the damn stereo.
*pause* It was one of those turnstile thingies...I ain't used to those! Over the 4th of July weekend, I was still in Champaign and was on route via I-57 on my way to Chicago to attend the Taste. Tried to turn off the radio, swerved, spun in a circle, went into the ditch and the car flipped over. The killing part...I was going 45 mph (speed limit is 60 mph). I joke about it now but I was scared as fuck. Scared that some one else was going to run into me (namely the semi trucks that I had passed up) and that I was going to die. That car flipped over and my life passed before my eyes.
A few months before that, two of my close friends were killed on that same expressway (I-57). Them and a friend were trying to get back to Chicago because they had to go to work...It was late (after 5am) and everyone had just came from partying and drinking. Apparently someone fell asleep behind the wheel and drifted into southbound traffic and hit another vehicle head on. No one in their car survived and only one of the three from the other car survived. This is continuing to mess me up. One of my friends was in medical school and due to graduate soon. I miss them everyday and I pray that they did not suffer...I pray their death was instant. I cried for two weeks straight, lost 5 lbs, and did not want to get in a car for weeks after their death. I did not want anyone out my sight. That's crazy...You see someone and the next hour they're gone from this earth. That struck a nerve with me because their death really told me that tomorrow is not promised today and when it's your time, it's your time. God does not have an age requirement.
Sorry for the emotions but my heart died when they died.
So when my car flipped over, I instantly thought of them. God really smiled down on me because a minute before the accident, I had put on my seat belt. I probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that seat belt. I wear that damn thing faithfully now. The passenger and driver's side was smashed, all the windows shattered, and the driver side was crumpled up...Yeah that Dodge was fucked up. Me being the paranoid bastard that I am instantly thought the car was going to blow up...So I unbuckled the seat belt and crawled through the back window. I watch too many action movies as you can see.
Now people had stopped and a nice woman comforted me because I was beyond hysterical. I was freaking out because 1) It was a rental. 2) My clothes were still in the car. 3) I came close to meeting my maker. Now the funniest thing out the situation was when the ambulance, fire truck, and officer got to the scene. They all just got out their respective vehicles and ran straight to the car. When puzzled why they did not see a person everyone pointed to me and they all bugged the fuck out. "How did you get out the car?" was their main question and when I told them how, a fireman was like, "There's no way you should have been able to get out that car and walk away with just a scratch". The Lord works in mysterious ways. They wanted to take me in but besides being a little shaken, I refused.
The officer wrote me a warning. I was happy...No ticket for me. I called my father and being the ass that he can be, he gone tell me he's "at work" and he'll get away when he can. WTF? Your only child was almost smashed in an accident and that doesn't qualify as "Get your ass here, like, yesterday"? Yeah...We didn't talk for a long time after that. In fact, I still don't talk to him like that. Thank God for my boyfriend. I called him crying and lo and behold 20 minutes later, he was there with open arms. He drove 90 miles in 20 minutes...I kid you not. He saw the car and freaked out. He drove me the rest of the way to Chicago with my mother blowing up my phone every 10 minutes (By this time, I had called my mom and of course it went through the family like wildfire) wondering about me and crying. My mother does not cry. Period.
After being poked, prodded, and bombarded with questions...Oh yes the whole family was there when I made it to my moms...The jokes began. And have not stopped yet. That's how my family is. And yes...I bought the Enterprise insurance. That insurance came in handy...I know I'm banned from Enterprise though. My total bill : $36.42. For three hours of having their car, wrecking it, and towing it came out to less than my monthly cell phone bill. Later on, I answered their insurance company's questions but because I bought the insurance...Enterprise sucked up that Dodge as a loss. I really like Enterprise too. I'm probably on their "Do Not Rent-Bitch Wreck Cars" list.
Sad to say, after my accident, I did not get behind the wheel again. Psychological, yes. I am terrified of getting on the expressway, I break out in a sweat if someone is going too fast or I think the car is swerving (and this is from a former speed demon), and I am ready to jump out the car if we're too close to a semi-truck. People say it's just because of the accident and I'll get behind the wheel but besides backing the car out, I have not hopped behind the wheel since July 1, 2005. I did drive for a little bit in August but I got so flustered I pulled over and started crying...I had to get my best friend to come and get me, but I have not drove again..Until Sunday. I got behind the wheel (with my boyfriend supervising) and I drove around for an hour. I was scared as hell and hugged that brake every rip but slowly I am facing my fears. I have to..DC doesn't have many residential areas so I was on a busy street trying to go 20 mph...Yeah I got the bird a lot that day.
But I'm talking it one step at a time.
One day I'll be back to my reckless speeding self but until then...Granny Driving.
One day I'll be back on the expressway...One day....
Monday, March 20, 2006
"That's not Christian Like" is a new quote from my grandmother after my Aunt exclaimed that she would burn my Uncle's wife (Yeah his wife done pissed off the fam so she is in the realms of "she who is not named") clothes up after she threw my Uncle's things out after an argument. My Aunt is a "pseudo" Christian who makes a backslide into "heathentry" (Grandma's words) every once and a while...Like Saturday. My Aunt's words:
"Well since [my Uncle's name] is not a Christian, technically I'm helping "she who is not named" become a better Christian by helping her get rid of the material possession that is preventing her from being close to the Lawd. So, in a sense, I would be saving her from herself and the ass whooping she would have gotten from me...Had I not been a Christian"
My family has some fucked up justifications, don't they? I love them all the same though.
Saturday was a pretty uneventful day. My flight was departing at 7:15 pm that night so I didn't have time to do as much as I wanted. I slept late and woke up at about 11 am I thought I had lost my nephew and turns out he was wrapped in covers on the floor...He fell out the reclining chair while he was asleep and like the heavy sleepers that we are, he did not wake up. Never mind the fact that I tore apart the house for 30 minutes...I thought it was an Amber Alert in the making. Never mind the fact that the doors/windows were locked, no signs of disturbance, I was convinced he was kidnapped! Now my mother had went out of town the night before and my aunt and grandmother went out shopping and while I do vaguely remember them waking me to tell me that, I could not find him.
I knew he wasn't with them and I know he's not crazy enough to play hide and seek with me because he has learned from experience that I do not find you. I play for like a minute and plop down in front of the t.v. until you emerge, tired as hell 2 hours later wondering how come I didn't "find" you. So I know he wasn't dumb enough to try that again *lol*
I worked myself up in a panic, envisioning my mother's fingers around my neck while the police fights her off of me for losing her grandbaby, so I did what I do naturally when I try to cover some shit up and I don't want to go down by myself...I called one of my best friends. She came by 10 minutes later, hollering and screaming how she "hated" me and how she would be so glad when I got my ass on the plane to leave because I woke her up from a good ass sleep (But you real best friends are ride and die...She'd be right next to me in the cell telling me how we fucked up...Yeah I got that same text-forward from all my friends...Don't they know that shit cost?!) and that's when she discovered his ass on the floor fast asleep. To say she was pissed would be an understatement. I tore apart that house for an half hour and she found him in less than two minutes. After calling me everything but a child of God, I convinced her to be my friend again by actually cooking breakfast.
She was a little hesitate considering my last efforts at cooking (I mean, medium well done burgers are good right? What's a little blood?) but I convinced her my skills was up...I mean I don't burn eggs anymore. I made some sausage, cheese eggs, rice, and biscuits....And surprisingly it was good! I don't eat eggs but they looked good and she did not have to run to the bathroom afterwards.
*Duh Duh Duh*
Ran into some of my exes (Damn it seems like my ass have had hella exes don't it?) and tried to run. No success.
One ex was a guy I got with shortly before getting with the main squeeze. He was a sweet guy by had no backbone. In fact, I started cheating with the main squeeze before I got rid of him. Another flaw: No stamina. Sorry, the ass was not up to my standards so needless to say we stopped having sex, hence the "side dip"- my current boyfriend (My ex could eat some coochie though, I will give that to him). Since he lives 4 blocks from me and he hangs with my brother sometimes, he just so happened to be in the neighborhood when I stopped by. I just feel bad sometimes because he always has this sad puppy dog look when I see him. He wanted to hold a deep conversation but considering the last real conversation I had with him had him outside my window drunk as hell declaring his love for me, I kept it short and simple.
Then walking to Osco, this other guy I was talking to pulled in front of me (or tried to run me over as I see it). I must have a homing device implanted in me because it never fails that I run into this nicca every single time I'm in town. I attract crazies in case you have not notice. "You attract yourself" or whatever that quote is. He grew crazed and bitter after I refused to bow to his 1950s standards of being in a relationship with him. This nicca actually typed up rules for being in a relationship with him and handed them to me like it was 50 million dollar contract. Needless to say, I could not follow 99 out of 100 of those bad boys. Now we started off as friends (he went to high school with my cousin) and when I came home for the summer freshman year, we would always go out. I mean we went out faithfully every Thursday and Friday. I guess that qualified him as being my man and since me and main squeeze were not at the "6 month" rule, I kinda led him to believe he could be my man (my mistake). We fell apart after his rules and regulations and he did not take kindly to my choice of words to describe him as a person.
This fool actually drove the 2 hours it takes to arrive at UIUC from Chicago and was waiting in my room when I came in drunk as a skunk from a Kappa party at 4 am. Quickly sober, I was shocked, scared, and then mad were my immediate reactions (after I saw he had no sharp instruments in his hand). He sweet-talked my best friend into letting him wait in our room and since her ass didn't sleep there anyway as she slept on the 4th floor every night with her boyfriend, I guess it was ok for him to kill me and dump my body in the nearest dumpster as long as my blood didn't get on her Mickey Mouse sheets. I guess the 14 times he called every hour did it for her and she figured if he killed me then at least he wouldn't call and disturb her. <--Umm yeah that was sarcasm and we had a long ass talk after that nigga got the boot. He came to my school to basically call me a "fucking bitch" and left. Crazy right?
But he stopped to tell me that he has found a woman who is "mature enough to be on his level". I send a prayer to that unfortunate soul. I was relieved esp. since he was the one who claimed he would run me down like the "low down dog" I am. <--I thought those words were reserved for trifling men. Hmmpt..Go figure.
I left from around my way and was on my way back to my grandmother's to retrieve my things when I ran into a guy that got the booty unintentionally. Yes, unintentionally. This fucker (I hate his ass so much) got me drunk and took advantage of me. *silence* Ok...Well technically I was the main one drinking and technically he did not force those Bacardi Lemon shots on me and ok ok technically I was aware enough to know what the hell was going on...But still...Bastard.
I turn into a hissing snake around him and I can not stop the instant venom that runs through my blood when I see him. His only saving factors (and I hate to fucking admit this): He is fine as hell. He is fiercely protective and will defend you. He can work it *shudder* But I can't stand him mainly because he is a smug bastard and he is mentally unstable. He is cute but crazy. He knew I could not stand his ass from Day 1. The first time we met, we got into it because his crazy ass rubbed me the wrong way and in the end, I called him a "Dirty Mexican" *sorry to insult all the Mexicans out there*. He went beserk! You would have thought I called his "gay" or his mother sucked some thang thang for the rent the way he reacted. That's how I knew he was crazy and learning my lesson from previous experiences, I kept my distance from him. Unfortunately, he took a "shining" to me and would always hang around, giving me this "We're made for each other, I love dark skinned women" line (although all of his exes are dark skinned...I think the bastard got a color complex) and always appearing out of no where whispering in my ear blowing my drinking high. Did I mention the bastard is a Kappa and a stereotypical one at that? All my friends would fall for his dumb ass lines-hook, line and sinker- and were always on me to *in nagging tone* "Be nice to him, Tenacious. He said all he wants to be is your friend and you treat him so cold. He told me he was sad when you walked out the door yesterday and went home when you saw him at [random friend's name] get-together. Girl, he's really a nice guy. Why you always gotta treat him like that? You so mean and spiteful. Give him a chance. He really is cool to kick it with"
I guess taking advantage of drunken women is what's hot out in the streets right now. I guess that's what women are looking for in "nice" men, huh?
*gag me with a spoon*
So after the drunken sex incident, he gives me this smug "I've had you and there's nothing you can do about it" look that drives me crazy! No matter how much I emphasis that he only got the booty after 6 double shots clouded my judgment, in his head, he hears "I want you". So every time I see him is his opportunity to try to get in my drawls again. No go. Chicago is a big city but it seems that if you live on the Southside, guarantee you will run into folks you know everywhere. I ran into this fucker at the McDonald's on 79th and Western...I will no longer darken their doors for this injustice. Why this fucker was in this McDonald's when he lives clear on the other side of town, I will never know.
Of course he did his little chuckle and "It must be fate" line. I ignored him. He asked for the 1000th time "When we're going to hook up". I told him, "When George Bush admits he's a fucking liar on national t.v....LIVE", grabbed my meal and skated out of there. Had to take another shower when I got to my grandmother's....I felt so dirty. I know it seems like I'm bitter or secretly sprung like my best friends' feeble mind think...But I will cut you with a dirty razor if you ever say those hurtful words to me. That is an insult to my vagina and all she stands for.
I need to branch my exes out of my immediate neighborhood. Damn "Don't Shit where You Eat" never seemed so real. Looking back, I have had hella exes. I am like a serial dater who has received *some* type of treatment. Damn my cute, flirty ways! Always getting me in trouble!
So after chilling with my grandmother, aunt and nephew for a little while, they dropped me off at Midway. Not only was ATAs line long as hell, there was only 2 workers at the computer...But 6 folks behind the desk. Don't you hate that? I had three security guards trying to hit on me and one held the line up just to ask for my number and peep me in my low-rise Se7ens. Since he was not really attractive (He did have nice, even WHITE teeth though) and the people behind were ready to beat the shit out of me...I kept it movin' shawty!
Of course my 7:15 pm flight was delayed for 45 minutes and of course I had to flirt with a cute guy who was on the same flight and of course it took forever to board and depart, but the flight was pretty uneventful. I was, how ever, cracking up at the gay male flight attendant who snapped his finger and did the "sista girl" neck thing to a passenger who was upset because they did not have personal bottles of water. Chile, he read her ass. I was highly amused the entire trip because he made it a point to ignore her the entire flight and even cut his eyes at her when she thought about it (Yes them muthafuckers have to save your life if the plane goes down) and tried to apologize.
A little bumpy landing and I was back in DC and away from the roving eyes of my exes. I waved to the cute guy and walked straight to the boyfriend's car and we went to IHOP where of course I had to tell him about the crazy folks I've had the displeasure of allowing to see me in various stages of undress. I secretly think he won't break up with me because he don't want to go crazy like the rest.
Yes People...Baby Diva Is Back In Chocolate City!
Sunday, March 19, 2006
So after I dragged my drunken ass home...I ended up babysitting my nephew...While trying to nurse that hangover. Have you ever tried to watch an active 5 year old while half drunk and half sleep? Kids today are a new breed...I remember when I was a kid, pop in a Disney tape and kids were quiet the entire time. I mean, did not say a peep. Not his ass...He was like an over-eager puppy. Would not sit down for shit!
He is so cute and so smart I could not be mad because even though I was popping Tylenols like it was candy, his little ass kept me rolling! That boy is a comedic genius! Now he ain't like the typical little Ghetto kid...Know every song on the radio but don't know his name. This littl guy know every single commercial, theme song, and videos on TV (But luckily he only knows the R&B joints...I would slap the taste out his mouth if I heard him repeating the crap that's on TV). But it's the questions he ask that get me.
Him: Auntie...Guess what I wanna be when I grow up
Me (half sleep): Hmmm...What baby?
Him: I wanna be a Law and Order Lawyer *starts humming "Law and Order" opening credits*
Me: Why do you want to be a lawyer?
Him: Cuz' they cool and they get to curse.
Him: Auntie what's that in your hair?
Me: They're braids.
Him: I like them. They're pretty
Me: Aww thank you.
Him: Yeah because the last time you came home, youse was looking a mess!
*dead* at this comment
So I got a little tired of his chattering because Lawd! A little kid will talk you to death about nothing if you let him so I put him on some clothes and took him out. Lo and behold....Ran into my best friend's baby mama who hates my guts.
She gets mad because we went out last night and I spent the night at his house. Granted they're not together anymore but I love messing with her. We were kinda cool until her craziness began to show. Guess it didn't help when I told her I had slept with her man before and knowing how her jealousy tends to get the best of her, she flipped out. I mean come on did she really think he was a virgin? But ever since then, she cuts her eye at me like I want him. So we're at the mall and I run into her.
Her: Who's this cute little boy? How old are you?
Me: My nephew. He's five.
Him: Is that weave? *tugs my arm* Do it suppose to look like that?
*dead* again...I couldn't even spank him because it was too funny!
She leaves in a huff after that...I guess a 5 year old roasting on your ass will do that to you!
I take him home and lo and behold...Some dude tried to pick me up! Now he was fine as hell but I did not appreciate him rolling up on me like that! In Chicago, men are notorious for driving up on you and trying to holla at you on a slow creep while they try to get your number or "offer" you a ride somewhere. They really don't care that they're holding up traffic or that their car will get smacked up in traffic. Almost ran my ass over too!
I saw his ass but I tried to speed up on his ass and get across the street. Oh no, this nigga bust a U-Turn, half turned into the alley and came back my way. I was just not getting away. I tried to tell him I didn't live in Chicago anymore but he insisted on getting my number. Because he was cute as hell, had nice even white teeth, and a nice ass car...I gave him the number. I hate cell phones because everyone has one! He pulled out his phone and called the number to make sure it was my real number. Don't you hate that? Damn where's the trust! Can't a sista give off a "sent off" number anymore like in the olden days?
He called me later on that night. We went out to the Olive Garden (What, you thought I was passing up the breadsticks and salad? There isn't an Olive Garden in DC) and I had a nice time. He didn't try to pull anything and we had great conversation. I told him I had a man and surprisingly he had a woman. Why we went out then I had no idea because he showed me no sexual interest at all and we spent a great deal bragging about our significant others. He was cool though so we promised to keep in touch. Maybe he just needed someone to eat with (Lawd knows I'm perfect for that job!) Came home and chilled with the family. Watched the mess that was "Diary of a Mad Black Woman" and "Stealth" *yawn* Both were bores but you know I found comedy in them anyway!
So much has happened when I went home to Chicago for the weekend that I just had to split it up into days. God my family and friends are crazy. The shit they get me into (willingly) and the humorous quotes that keeps me rolling for days *sigh* What can you do?
So my day started Thursday morning @ DCA. For once, I was on time and ATA was actually doing some work. I was kinda pissed that this lady had like 40 bags to check in and took forever but I made it to my gate with 10 minutes to spare. The flight was quick and wasn't bumpy. I will admit that I am terrified of flying. I literally have to get a pep talk to get on the plane. If there's even a little bit of turbulence...I am ready to claw the exit doors open and leap out. Needless to say, I have never sat in those seat because I have disclosed to the flight attendants that in the case of an emergency I will 1) Claw the door open and jump out and 2) Have no intentions of saving anyone on board. If you see my ass running you better get a clue because I am not a hero. So to save me from knocking over small children to get off the plane, I'm usually seated a nice distance from the exit rows. I hate flying strictly because planes go down all the damn time and no one seems to know what the fuck happened until afterwards. That's a damn lie!
When I first moved to DC, I worked at Dulles guiding planes in and out of the gates, loading/unloading luggage, and doing general inspections (I know...My lazy ass working at an airport? The job was actually fun as hell and being one of the few women that worked there meant others, namely the men, did the work for me while I sat looking cute) and they do a close inspection of the plane upon arrival/departure. The smallest scratch= that plane is not leaving the gate. I know this because I was always reporting everything (due to my paranoia) and was constantly being told "that is normal" (They got tired of my "Final Destination" rants). Needless to say, I hate flying so I either need to be extremely drunk, tired, or sick to get on a plane and relax. I slept 95% of the flight. I woke up when we were descending into Midway.
My best guy friend met me at Midway and boy did we clown. I was really happy to see him so I jumped all over him, he fell, I fell...We laughed. It was like a ghetto "Sleepless in Chi-Town". If I wasn't with my boyfriend, I would probably hook up with my best friend. We're so much alike, it's eerie. Him being hung like a porn star and blessed with the tongue of a God are also his other good qualities. Yes, I sampled the merchandise a few years ago and I had to leave him alone because I would have became a stalker. Yes, it was just that good. So we went out to eat...At the I-HOP we were banned from two years ago for throwing a plate at the waitress. Yes that same waitress still was working there and yes she still held a grudge. We were escorted out. I made a scene. We were promptly banned from the property again.
Then we met up with the "crew". The "crew" is an assortment of friends/associates that I sorta/kinda kick it with when I am in town. We're a group of loud ass ig'nant Black folks...My good U of I education does out the window when I'm around these folks. So we're chilling at my girl's house and they're bringing me up to date on the neighborhood gossip. One of the dudes I messed around with is in jail. So and so is on her third baby. Pointing out the new crackhead in the neighborhood...That sort of thing. Netta (yeah the same bitch that gave my number to my ex...Oh yes that ass got cursed the fuck out) told me my ex was asking about me. Yes the same crazy fucker. So I start talking mad shit about his ass.
Now I am a champion bull shitter. I walk tall and stand tall. I swear I think I got balls the size of....Well think of something big and that's how big my balls are. So I'm like "Fuck that nigga duhdaduhda" when the fucker walks in the room. I kid you not...I jumped like a scared kitten. So they laughing and shit while this nigga got a death look on his face. The fucker heard my entire conversation because I'm so busy talking shit that I don't know the nigga came in the house. So of course we get into it. We get into it bad. My best friend had to carry me out the house because it was about to go down. I had took the earrings off, tied my hair to the back and was about to go to school on his ass. Now I probably would have gotten my ass beat but I woulda scratched an eyeball out or something.
I was so pissed I went over to my grandmother's. Tell me why I'm walking home and this bastard start following me home, talking about, "Get in the car...We need to talk about your anger problems. Your jealousy issues will be the end of you". Oh yes....The fucker went there. 1) I wasn't hopping my ass in the car with that nigga...They would never find my body. 2) He is crazy. 3) He is crazy. I ignored him and went on my way.
Now my grandmother cracked her collarbone so my mother has her on lockdown. We call my mother "The Warden" because my grandmother can't go to the washroom without her breathing down her neck. Now my grandmother is far from the fragile, senile granny....My granny hits the streets. She hops in her jeep and be gone! So she's mad that she can't drive more than anything esp. since she cracked her bone falling out the bed. Yes, we have that problem bad in the family. We all fall out the damn bed all the time (well mine is more alcohol related) so when I found out...I was worried but then again my mother is a drama queen and queen of exaggeration. So when I found out my granny was ok, I started jokin with my grandma that she needs to "get off the Jesus Juice" and my grandmother told me to "Get Some Business".
I go home, spend time with the family, and later on go out with my best friend and his Frat Brothers who I adore like they're my real brothers. Them niggaz are stupid and I know I'm in for a good time when I'm out with them. Plus his frat brother Adam (who looks exactly like Remy Shand...I even call him Remy) was there. Sad to say, Adam can't stand me. I kinda did him bogus and so he doesn't even acknowledge my presence. It's cool though...We all hit an Irish pub (in honor of St. Patrick's Day...Any excuse to drink for us) and proceed to get slizzard out the ass. We so drunk we making friends with the white folks that was there, we dancing, singing along (badly) to songs...We showed our Black asses. Bacardi will make you sin. I had 6 Double Shots of Bacardi Superior--Straight, some Rum and Coke and an Armetto Sour. I woke up with a T-Shirt and some panties on (Luckily I wore the cute pair) and a headache. Now my best friend and I did not have sex, even though I woke up in his bed half naked and with his t-shirt on. We're beyond the sexual stage I guess (I was kinda insulted though...Like who wouldn't want to sleep with me?) but he did have some amusing drunk stories about me for my ass and I got clowned the entire weekend. I forgot they some real drunks so shortly after we left (or got kicked out the bar) they were cool...But me on the other hand was another story. According to him:
1. I flashed a random stranger (unintentionally). My low rises slide down and I had "Plumber's Crack" which prompted a lot of butt crack jokes ("Crack" of Dawn, "Crack" Kills, "Crack"ers, etc). My rebuttal: "At least my panties are clean *pause* Wait...I think they clean...What color are they? Hey when did that Walgreens get there"?
2. I cursed out some dude who apparently wasn't feeling my drunken advances. Me: "Fuck you bitch...You wasn't cute anywayz!" (Yeah...That Chicago Rejection Line was out in full force).
3. I tripped and fell over everything including my own feet. Then slipped off the curb.
4. I fell asleep mid-sentence a few times and woke up to finish the conversation.
5. I was about to sent it up with some dudes who, in my drunken state, I thought was trying to kick it off. The men: mid-60s White Men.
6. Cursed out Adam for being a fucking "douche bag" (I hang with too many white folks). We're back to not speaking.
7. Drunk dialed a few folks and proceeded to tell them how much I "love" them...And how they are my best friends.
Yeah...When I get drunk...Anything goes. That was Thursday's day of events......
Monday, March 13, 2006
Why did my nutty ass ex-boyfriend call me today with a revelation: He can find me though Google Earth. If you're not familiar with Google Earth: Read The Title. It. Makes. Stalking. Easier. Some genius over at the Google Lab decided to create a program that's similar to Map Quest...Only cooler and more accurate. Fucking Map Quest is so damn unreliable. I have gone miles out of my way and lost thanks to going miles out of my way. I have ran out of gas looking for an address. I've even gotten a flat tire relying on Map Quest. Knowing DC is confusing, I have given up relying on Map Quest to get me to the nearest Taco Bell and random clubs (Yes I Map Quest for food...Do you know how confusing some of these streets are? They become new streets, expressways, hell some become sudden dead ends) so I either get lost or take a scenic trip through DC (not some neighborhoods though...I ain't getting my Camry jacked!)
So...Back to Google Earth. It's really cool though. If you type in an address, city, or country it gives you an pretty astonishing aerial view of the area. The directions are a little more accurate because you know what the hell you're looking for. So if you're driving through a damn forest...And you really should be riding through plains...Umm yeah...You're in the wrong direction. I can even see my old neighborhood (minus the crackheads) thanks to Google Earth. Bad thing is...If anyone has your address, they can get a pretty good idea on what your place looks likes.
So my crazy ex...He is a mentally unstable dude. See when we were together I saw peeks of his insanity but I waved it off. Anyone who has ever been with a crazy ass person know that person is crazy...We just choose to ignore the signs until it is too late. When his eye used to randomly twitch...Oh it was just the sun in his eye. When he would blow up because I didn't call him right right back...Oh he had a bad day at work. When the bastard got me kicked out the movie theater...Now that muthafucker WAS crazy. Do you know that fool followed my best friend and I the whole day. The entire day. Now I went with this guy in high school. We were together for a year and a half (my entire junior year and half of my senior year) and I swear he was crazy for a year of it. You know a person is crazy when they stalk you via CTA (Chicago Transit Authority aka The Bus). Yes this fool trekked me and my girl down via the janky ass bus. He would get on the bus two stops (roughly two blocks) before me and kept a nice distance from me. Being the self-absorbed teenager that I was...Paying attention to my surrounding was not my best trait hence his ability to efficiently stalk me. His justification: "I was lying about kicking it with just my girl and wanted to see what the hell I was on when he was not around". Yeah...Real High school but he was a pretty crazy (and insecure) guy. After that, he had a sista cutting the corner of her eye, always on the lookout, expecting him to hop out the alley or something. I became one with my surrounding immediately after that incident.
The break-up came because of two reason (besides his obvious mental issues). Crazy tried to knock me up and Crazy also broke into my house and was waiting for me in my room, gangsta style, when I came home. Scared the living hell outta me. He was lucky my mama wasn't at home because he would got shot. His justification: "He had a dream about me last night and was worried and since I was not answering my phone at 8 a.m. (being that I was in school), he skipped school to come by my house and then when I didn't come to the door (because I was in school), he jimmied my bootleg window lock (hey it's the hood...You get what you pay a fiend to install it for) so he can "rescue me" from the dangers of my house. That goes to show you the neighborhood I lived in...A person could break in your home in broad daylight and no one would blink an eye...But will come in and help themselves to your T.V. and DVD player. And he had the nerve to get mad at me because I was not at home and decided to wait for me to curse me out! Umm yeah...It was called school! Crazy fool did not turn on one light, t.v., didn't even fix him anything to eat. Just sat in the dark waiting for me to waltz through the door. Yeah...Like I said...NUTS! Then during the course of that argument, he revealed something else: he had been poking holes in the condoms for months and was upset because I was not getting pregnant. Ummm yeah...I thought only desperate women did that too. Apparently I was wrong. The world stopped for a split second...AND then I saw RED! I went the fuck off! He wanted me to "have his seed", so to speak, so we can be together forever. After informing him that I would never had a child by him and I rather take a trip to the clinic than place another person with his genetic material on this earth, I threw his ass out...And got the same fiend to put a better lock on my window. Yeah he stalked me for a while (Always at a distance...Damn shame when your own friends, who are just as crazy as you, have to escort you home from school) and he started talking that "Fatal Attraction" shit (I'll be damn if Funky Chunk (my cat) ended up boiling in my mama's chitlin pot) for a while but eventually he left me alone.
So I went away for school...He went to the Marines (Where even crazier men lurk). No contact, nothing. Like any normal person, I figured like, damn, ok it's been 5 YEARS...He must have moved on right? WRONG! Fool got my number through an associate of mine. You see why I only have a few friends...Fucking associates will sell your soul for a doughnut. You're always suppose to get permission from a person before you start handing out their number like candy (Ok...Giving your friend's name/number to an unattractive person who's trying to holla doesn't count *lol*)...That is, like, a rule. So when he called, I picked up assuming it was someone else. Now usually I don't pick up a call if it doesn't have a caller-id tag but I saw the Chicago area code and assumed it was someone I knew calling from another phone on the other end. IT WAS HIS ASS! Conversation started off normal enough. He told me he was over in Germany for about 8 months and just got back to the United States (after probably torturing folks) and he might get deployed to Iraq (where he can torture more folks) and he was just calling to see how I was doing. Knowing his tendencies to blow up and go crazy, I fed his ass with a long handled spoon. Making very small talk, I told him I moved out the state with my boyfriend of four years and we live in DC now and ARE VERY VERY VERY HAPPY!
And wouldn't you know it, he went nuts! Start yelling and cursing me out so he promptly got the dial tone. After the 15th time of ignoring his calls he left a voice mail.
You have one new voice message...To listen to your messages..Press One...
(screaming)"Oh so your BITCH ASS aint gone pick up the phone huh? It's cool cuz' I got your fucking address anyway! Don't make me make a trip to fucking DC! Yeah muthafucker I Google Earth that ass.. (Proceeds to read my address) Yeah muthafucking Netta gave me your address...(switch from screaming to speaking calmly as hell) Oh yeah Netta said she was going to mail you her baby's new pictures next week and she said 'what's up'. (back to screaming) AND I see you got a pool too huh? I wonder, when I throw you and that wack ass nigga from the balcony, can you survive a fall like that? I hope your bitch ass can hold your breath! (back to speaking calmly) Call me back when you get this"
I don't scare easily...But a bitch flew to my door and start putting on the dead bolts, shutting blinds, going through alternative escape plans in my head, writing my last will and testament...THE WORKS! Had me sweating and pacing around the house. I damn near picked up chain smoking! The bastard is crazy I tell you. Damn was my pussy platinum or something? Do it just make men lose their mind? You figure you break up with someone FIVE YEARS AGO they would have moved on. Got a new girl (or man...You never know...), have gotten married...Something other than stalking your ex. Now I gotta change my number (again). *sigh* And I just really started to like this number. I even got the nervous giggles and got that "crazy laugh" until I realized something...That fool is in the military. Don't they teach you to stalk your prey or something like that? How to kill a man 10 different ways? How to do sniper-on-the-roof type killings?
I shoulda left his ass when he first started showing his true colors but noooo Tenacious had to be well Tenacious. Word of advice people: If your significant other shows faint traces of craziness: RUN! I laughed off his little rants and I made excuses for his random slips into insanity but little did I know...A crazy boy developed into an insane man.
Thanks Google Earth. You are really a blessing (and a curse).