As you've probably guessed my lazy ass probably won't post anything until the New Year.
Which means...LONG ass story. You know I have to keep you busy and entertained while trying to fight off that hangover from the New Years Parties and Events.
I'm in DC for Christmas and I'm going to Chicago for New Years...Fun Times Fun Times. I'm anticipating cold weather+scantily clad me+alcohol divided by my friends=Monster Hangover for 2007.
Ah bringing in the New Years drunk as a skunk since...well 2002.
Be safe, be merry and try not to slap someone down at the Christmas Dinner or on New Years when that drunk fool spills a drink on you...Oh wait, that's me.
No New Years Resolutions for me because...yeah they're broken by the 2nd.
2007...wow. As a kid I thought by 2007 I would be married with at least two kids by now. How dumb and naive I was *lol* I'll be 24 on May 10, 2007. One more year until I have to grow the fuck up and take serious control of my life.
2006 was a wonderful year...I'm looking at 2007 as the same.
But anyhoo...Happy Holidays to everyone.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Trust This Is Super Random
Wish me luck. I had an interview Wednesday at another property for a new job. Better pay, more authority, and better hours.
Not to mention a glowing recommendation from my manager. I did well if I don't say so myself. It pays to know 85% of the folks at this property.
And I’ll be back in my old stomping grounds, Crystal City, so I can go home and take a nap on my lunch breaks *lol*.
I am so glad I am off for the remainder of the week. I think I must have counted every single tile in the lobby this past weekend, that’s how slow and boring it was. It’s only so many times I can check my email before I begin to think I’m OCD *oh wait according to Scientologist that does not exist* and folks don’t really update their blogs on the weekend too busy having a life.
I think my muse is coming back because I have been feeling my inspiration to write. I have about two stories already saved as a draft; I’m just giving folks a chance to actually catch up *lol*
You should already know by now I am a talker.
And you can not outtalk me.
So why did this dude, who I gave my number to out of plain “If I give you number will you get the fuck out my face and let me eat my damn sandwich”, call me yesterday at about midnight?
Lesson #6- Do not call my phone after midnight.
A long time ago JBN and I came to an understanding that the opposite sex could not call either of our phones after a certain time. More importantly, "midnight”.
We ain’t got shit to talk about after midnight except “Your place or mine” and “spit or swallow”? Those are considered “booty call hours”. I repeat ”booty call hours”. Only and only if we are fucking *and good sex at that* can a male call me after midnight.
Otherwise…Nigga you better need some blood and I’m the only one in the world with your blood type.
Even then, you might get the dial tone. Shit, I lose blood every month already for free.
Oh I won’t get into the time after September 11th I went to a blood drive and the nurse pulled out a fucking beaker on my ass.
We’re talking about a girl who asks the laboratory to look up the old blood I gave the last time I was there because I know they didn’t use all that blood in the test tube.
And I’m not one to get grossed out easily but watching my blood fill a test tube makes me a little woozy.
So I let the nurse fill up her beaker with my blood and I kid you not I almost passed out when I stood up. I was weak as shit and this broad talking about, “Go eat a sandwich”. Fucking vampire sucked me dry. She’s lucky it was for September 11th.
*LOL* Ok one of those tangents again…
So anyway, I’m half sleep when my phone goes off. I’m now in the habit of leaving my ringer on so when My Love went off, it scared the shit out of me.
Umpt there goes a number without a name attached. So I hit quiet and try to nod back off.
Why did it go off again? Like, “Oh no she ain’t going to ignore me, she’s gonna pick up this phone.” Same fucking number.
Therefore, my sleep has officially been interrupted. JBN is knocked the fuck out mumbling in his sleep and shit so I pick up the phone with an attitude.
Me: *snaps* Hello?!
Dude: Hey baby it’s me.
Me: Me….who? Jesus? Cuz that’s the only nigga that should be ringing my phone at these hours!”
Dude: *laugh* I see you still got that sharp mouth Ima have to do something about that *laugh*
Me: Well I guess you’re going to have to do that with the dial tone because I’m about to hang up…
Dude: Dang baby…you don’t remember me? Remember I met you in April at Subway? You gave me your number?
Me: I don’t even remember what I had on yesterday let alone some dude I gave a number to in fucking April! Well it’s December now I advise you to put my number back into whatever pocket you got it out of and forget about it!
*click*
Put the phone on vibrate and rolled my ass back over. JBN woke up on the tail end and of course, “So…some dude calling you after midnight huh?”
You know what babes…I am so not in the mood. It’s not like I told him to call. I mean the nerve of this nigga! I swear men balls are getting bigger and bigger each day.
Back when I was single *oh so many years ago it seems* if and only if I actually gave out my real number, you had three days and then it was “Holler Back Youngin’”. No time for phone games and stubborn waiting games.
But then again I did relish in my single life. I loved every minute of it. Just by chance *and good sex* did I turn a FWB *Friends with Benefits* into an actual boyfriend. And he lasted a long time…well he has held my interest the longest.
What I really like though are the people who want to hear every single negative detail of my relationship.
Yeah we argue. Yeah we debate each other down on shit that is frowned down on in other relationships yet we try to “justify’ our behavior. We have difficulties like every relationship…but we don’t feel the need to dwell on it.
Because we communicate. We talk *ok yell sometimes* it out. We communicate very well via text, IM, emails and plain face to face.
Yeah my relationship isn’t perfect. Yeah I do fucked up shit that in some countries my ass would have been stoned to death. He does fucked up shit too. I’m sure many of days folks probably scratch their head and say, “Damn JBN is a good ass dude because Tenacious is just itching for an ass whooping”
But hey he knew all this shit about me before we got together and I know my behavior is fucked up, I’m getting better at not flirting with every cute man in sight, but understand I would never do anything to intentionally hurt him. There’s nothing wrong with a little window-shopping every now and then. It is not as if he is not checking out other women. It is human nature.
However, we have a weird relationship anyway. If you see us out in the streets, we give off “Just Friends” vibes. We are together but folks have to really sit and think if we are “together” together.
However, hey like I said I know I’m flawed. At least I can admit when my behavior is fucked up.
Ok wait…Did I go off on another tangent?
Damn phone call from DRAMA!
I can’t help if I’m not one of those girls who blabs only about the bad shit in my relationship and never highlights the good. In fact, my policy is generally to keep my lips zipped. Because then you get your girls on your side and ready to bust out the ‘Ripple for the “He Ain’t Shit” Party and when shit goes back to the good, who’s the first person to remind you of all the grimy shit you’ve said about your s/o in a fit of anger?
Your friends.
Therefore, I keep mum on my relationship. It is really no one’s business…is it?
I’m not the bragging type either. I don’t think sugar will not melt in his mouth but I’m not going to downplay him because every one else around me are griping about the fucked up shit Ray Ray did this week.
I just keep my lips zipped.
However, don’t throw rocks at me because for the most part my relationship is straight. No major beefs.
If he was cheating, I will actually clap on him his back and suggest he teach a class for men to get it right. No woman’s intuition, no “Spidey Sense”…nothing. No “signs”, no lipstick *or lip-gloss* on the collar…nothing. And he is a horrible liar. *lol*
Would I be hurt? Depends on the person honestly. If it is someone I know or cool with, yeah I will be hurt…then angry. Some random broad out in the street? More concerned about diseases than him actually cheating. Would I kick his ass to the curb? I guess that depends. When I cheated, he took me back. I don’t think I’m that nice though *lol*.
Ok I have gotten off subject enough. *lol*
Wow the shit you type when you’re on the phone with people *lol*
Not to mention a glowing recommendation from my manager. I did well if I don't say so myself. It pays to know 85% of the folks at this property.
And I’ll be back in my old stomping grounds, Crystal City, so I can go home and take a nap on my lunch breaks *lol*.
I am so glad I am off for the remainder of the week. I think I must have counted every single tile in the lobby this past weekend, that’s how slow and boring it was. It’s only so many times I can check my email before I begin to think I’m OCD *oh wait according to Scientologist that does not exist* and folks don’t really update their blogs on the weekend too busy having a life.
I think my muse is coming back because I have been feeling my inspiration to write. I have about two stories already saved as a draft; I’m just giving folks a chance to actually catch up *lol*
You should already know by now I am a talker.
And you can not outtalk me.
So why did this dude, who I gave my number to out of plain “If I give you number will you get the fuck out my face and let me eat my damn sandwich”, call me yesterday at about midnight?
Lesson #6- Do not call my phone after midnight.
A long time ago JBN and I came to an understanding that the opposite sex could not call either of our phones after a certain time. More importantly, "midnight”.
We ain’t got shit to talk about after midnight except “Your place or mine” and “spit or swallow”? Those are considered “booty call hours”. I repeat ”booty call hours”. Only and only if we are fucking *and good sex at that* can a male call me after midnight.
Otherwise…Nigga you better need some blood and I’m the only one in the world with your blood type.
Even then, you might get the dial tone. Shit, I lose blood every month already for free.
Oh I won’t get into the time after September 11th I went to a blood drive and the nurse pulled out a fucking beaker on my ass.
We’re talking about a girl who asks the laboratory to look up the old blood I gave the last time I was there because I know they didn’t use all that blood in the test tube.
And I’m not one to get grossed out easily but watching my blood fill a test tube makes me a little woozy.
So I let the nurse fill up her beaker with my blood and I kid you not I almost passed out when I stood up. I was weak as shit and this broad talking about, “Go eat a sandwich”. Fucking vampire sucked me dry. She’s lucky it was for September 11th.
*LOL* Ok one of those tangents again…
So anyway, I’m half sleep when my phone goes off. I’m now in the habit of leaving my ringer on so when My Love went off, it scared the shit out of me.
Umpt there goes a number without a name attached. So I hit quiet and try to nod back off.
Why did it go off again? Like, “Oh no she ain’t going to ignore me, she’s gonna pick up this phone.” Same fucking number.
Therefore, my sleep has officially been interrupted. JBN is knocked the fuck out mumbling in his sleep and shit so I pick up the phone with an attitude.
Me: *snaps* Hello?!
Dude: Hey baby it’s me.
Me: Me….who? Jesus? Cuz that’s the only nigga that should be ringing my phone at these hours!”
Dude: *laugh* I see you still got that sharp mouth Ima have to do something about that *laugh*
Me: Well I guess you’re going to have to do that with the dial tone because I’m about to hang up…
Dude: Dang baby…you don’t remember me? Remember I met you in April at Subway? You gave me your number?
Me: I don’t even remember what I had on yesterday let alone some dude I gave a number to in fucking April! Well it’s December now I advise you to put my number back into whatever pocket you got it out of and forget about it!
*click*
Put the phone on vibrate and rolled my ass back over. JBN woke up on the tail end and of course, “So…some dude calling you after midnight huh?”
You know what babes…I am so not in the mood. It’s not like I told him to call. I mean the nerve of this nigga! I swear men balls are getting bigger and bigger each day.
Back when I was single *oh so many years ago it seems* if and only if I actually gave out my real number, you had three days and then it was “Holler Back Youngin’”. No time for phone games and stubborn waiting games.
But then again I did relish in my single life. I loved every minute of it. Just by chance *and good sex* did I turn a FWB *Friends with Benefits* into an actual boyfriend. And he lasted a long time…well he has held my interest the longest.
What I really like though are the people who want to hear every single negative detail of my relationship.
Yeah we argue. Yeah we debate each other down on shit that is frowned down on in other relationships yet we try to “justify’ our behavior. We have difficulties like every relationship…but we don’t feel the need to dwell on it.
Because we communicate. We talk *ok yell sometimes* it out. We communicate very well via text, IM, emails and plain face to face.
Yeah my relationship isn’t perfect. Yeah I do fucked up shit that in some countries my ass would have been stoned to death. He does fucked up shit too. I’m sure many of days folks probably scratch their head and say, “Damn JBN is a good ass dude because Tenacious is just itching for an ass whooping”
But hey he knew all this shit about me before we got together and I know my behavior is fucked up, I’m getting better at not flirting with every cute man in sight, but understand I would never do anything to intentionally hurt him. There’s nothing wrong with a little window-shopping every now and then. It is not as if he is not checking out other women. It is human nature.
However, we have a weird relationship anyway. If you see us out in the streets, we give off “Just Friends” vibes. We are together but folks have to really sit and think if we are “together” together.
However, hey like I said I know I’m flawed. At least I can admit when my behavior is fucked up.
Ok wait…Did I go off on another tangent?
Damn phone call from DRAMA!
I can’t help if I’m not one of those girls who blabs only about the bad shit in my relationship and never highlights the good. In fact, my policy is generally to keep my lips zipped. Because then you get your girls on your side and ready to bust out the ‘Ripple for the “He Ain’t Shit” Party and when shit goes back to the good, who’s the first person to remind you of all the grimy shit you’ve said about your s/o in a fit of anger?
Your friends.
Therefore, I keep mum on my relationship. It is really no one’s business…is it?
I’m not the bragging type either. I don’t think sugar will not melt in his mouth but I’m not going to downplay him because every one else around me are griping about the fucked up shit Ray Ray did this week.
I just keep my lips zipped.
However, don’t throw rocks at me because for the most part my relationship is straight. No major beefs.
If he was cheating, I will actually clap on him his back and suggest he teach a class for men to get it right. No woman’s intuition, no “Spidey Sense”…nothing. No “signs”, no lipstick *or lip-gloss* on the collar…nothing. And he is a horrible liar. *lol*
Would I be hurt? Depends on the person honestly. If it is someone I know or cool with, yeah I will be hurt…then angry. Some random broad out in the street? More concerned about diseases than him actually cheating. Would I kick his ass to the curb? I guess that depends. When I cheated, he took me back. I don’t think I’m that nice though *lol*.
Ok I have gotten off subject enough. *lol*
Wow the shit you type when you’re on the phone with people *lol*
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Saturday Night Lights
Some men never cease to amaze me. Saturday night, as usual, I was stuck at work watching paint dry and wondering how many drunken guests from the holiday parties going on will come to the front desk to do nothing more than irk my nerves with drunken stupid questions and not to mention the “belligerent” drunk who yells at you because their key doesn’t work…although they went to the wrong room in the first place and you have to explain, in a patient tone, why a key won’t work if it is not programmed for that room.
So I’m bored out of my skull officially by 8 pm because there were only 15 people left to check in and many of them were probably at the party getting drunk.
Some guy tried to slide to the front desk to holler never mind the fact that I check him and his girlfriend in. And I guess I was supposed to ignore him obviously checking me out as I’m checking him in. I mean how disrespectful! He’s just the cheesing as I check him in, never mind the dry dialogue and limited eye contact I mean they did interrupt my enlightening game of Spider, but oh no please wait until your girl is at the party and try to come back and holler.
Just to get shut the fuck down.
And the killing part: He acted as if I should be honored that he snuck away from the party to talk to me, little lowly ole me. Yes, everyone I should have fallen to my knees and praised God for dropping a slightly balding, middle-aged man right into my lap.
But you know an empty lobby and no manager in sight means an opportunity for yours truly to get ignant.
This fool has the audacity to ask me did I have on underwear because judging by the fit of my pants, I either didn’t have any on or was wearing a thong?
*cricket chirp*
What?! Repeate por favor?
I had to throw my head back and laugh because that had to be the most foolish statement I have heard in…well weeks.
But oh, no he didn’t stop there. I guess the laugh was confirmation to continue to say sweet, perverted nothings in my ear.
He even boldly stated that I should make a key for a room so he can show me “what I’m obviously not getting at home”.
*cricket chirp*
OMG I was laughing so hard my stomach started hurting. He will not try to kill me while I still have three more hours on the clock.
The foolishness that a little bit of spiked eggnog brings out.
Wiping tears from my face I had to tell him to get away from me because he was straight killing me. Oh yeah…And get the fuck out of my face. Please go back to your girlfriend sleazeball.
I said a few other choice words that would make any child of God blush but just know it had a lot of cursing in it *lol*.
I probably got a comment card about that encounter. Oh well…make sure my name is spelled right.
I was encouraged to go out and after some debating, I thought why not? It’s not as if I had any definite plans for the night.
I called JBN and convinced him to iron and bring me a “club outfit” so I can go out and shake my tail feather. He failed to see the logic of bringing a blazer without a shirt, which led into a mini-debate which led to "I didn't ask your opinion, just bring the outfit!"
He can grumble all he want. I was wearing the outfit regardless.
We went to the “Roman Numerals” Club, as we call it, or 1223 as everyone else calls it.
I had a nice time, I was a little bored *maybe I am outgrowing the “club” scene* even though this guy asked me did I do drugs because I have a “coke pinky”.
Tuh as if I would ever do coke. I do not indulge in drugs. Ok I smoke weed once every blue moon but that’s it. I don’t need an after school special to see what drugs do to the human body.
A “coke pinky”, in case anyone didn’t know, means that the pinky nails are longer than the rest of the nails in order to better scoop it up into your nose. You know in case the good old “dollar” bill isn’t working. I’d never gotten the “coke pinky” comment before, but I was highly amused. I can’t help those nails grow the fastest.
And does it look like I do drugs?
I think he was a dealer though because that’s the first thing he asked me.
We had a good laugh about that one. I’m not used to drug dealers trying to sell their wares in the club. I’m used to the good old corner hustlers asking are “you straight” and “what you need”.
The music was actually decent that night although that “Dutty Wine” dance don’t have anything on “Drunk White Gurls” dance. Shit I didn’t know whipping your damn hair all over the place like a deranged rock star actually had a name.
Let me find out there is a dance name for the awkward groping, offbeat dancing, and stiff stripper moves.
I personally find the dancing hilarious and I can not resist laughing when I see a group of girls who swear they are killing it on the dance floor when they are actually killing me with dance moves they’ve probably secretly copied from Save the Last Dance.
And if girls are really going to get on the bar and dance, make sure your outfit fits before hopping on the counter. Nothing is more disgusting than a girl digging her leotard out her butt every other second.
We did feel like pseudo celebrities because the cameramen always wanted to take a picture. I think it was because my breasts were hanging out of my shirt. And it’s not my imagination. I was asked twice by friends did my chest get bigger. And it was not because of the bra *lol*
Then when I sit and think about it…We were really the only people dancing…on beat.
Without spilling our alcohol all over the place. Shit for what I paid for that drink not a drop was falling out that cup. I would fight a motherfucker in the club for spilling my drink…or burning me with a cigarette.
This is very annoying. Stop trying to stunt and smoke that big nasty ass cigar in the club. And who smokes in a fucking crowded ass club…someone is just begging for an ass whooping. Because let that cigarette singe me…oh that’s a fight. Waving that shit all around…let some ashes flick into my hair.
Besides getting a little loose in the club, shit that bartender was trying to get me fucked up, I had a great time.
And I made it in the house at a decent time and I still got my 8 hours of sleep. The most important.
Although I did get a random text from someone early in the morning talking about “Good Morning”. This damn 202 number has been bugging me all week. I think I recognize the number but when I call it, no one picks up and when I send a text all I get is “You know who this is…”
I think 3+ years of having the same number is starting to come back and bite me on the ass. I think it’s time for a new number.
I wonder if they’ll let me have 867-5309 *lol*
So I’m bored out of my skull officially by 8 pm because there were only 15 people left to check in and many of them were probably at the party getting drunk.
Some guy tried to slide to the front desk to holler never mind the fact that I check him and his girlfriend in. And I guess I was supposed to ignore him obviously checking me out as I’m checking him in. I mean how disrespectful! He’s just the cheesing as I check him in, never mind the dry dialogue and limited eye contact I mean they did interrupt my enlightening game of Spider, but oh no please wait until your girl is at the party and try to come back and holler.
Just to get shut the fuck down.
And the killing part: He acted as if I should be honored that he snuck away from the party to talk to me, little lowly ole me. Yes, everyone I should have fallen to my knees and praised God for dropping a slightly balding, middle-aged man right into my lap.
But you know an empty lobby and no manager in sight means an opportunity for yours truly to get ignant.
This fool has the audacity to ask me did I have on underwear because judging by the fit of my pants, I either didn’t have any on or was wearing a thong?
*cricket chirp*
What?! Repeate por favor?
I had to throw my head back and laugh because that had to be the most foolish statement I have heard in…well weeks.
But oh, no he didn’t stop there. I guess the laugh was confirmation to continue to say sweet, perverted nothings in my ear.
He even boldly stated that I should make a key for a room so he can show me “what I’m obviously not getting at home”.
*cricket chirp*
OMG I was laughing so hard my stomach started hurting. He will not try to kill me while I still have three more hours on the clock.
The foolishness that a little bit of spiked eggnog brings out.
Wiping tears from my face I had to tell him to get away from me because he was straight killing me. Oh yeah…And get the fuck out of my face. Please go back to your girlfriend sleazeball.
I said a few other choice words that would make any child of God blush but just know it had a lot of cursing in it *lol*.
I probably got a comment card about that encounter. Oh well…make sure my name is spelled right.
I was encouraged to go out and after some debating, I thought why not? It’s not as if I had any definite plans for the night.
I called JBN and convinced him to iron and bring me a “club outfit” so I can go out and shake my tail feather. He failed to see the logic of bringing a blazer without a shirt, which led into a mini-debate which led to "I didn't ask your opinion, just bring the outfit!"
He can grumble all he want. I was wearing the outfit regardless.
We went to the “Roman Numerals” Club, as we call it, or 1223 as everyone else calls it.
I had a nice time, I was a little bored *maybe I am outgrowing the “club” scene* even though this guy asked me did I do drugs because I have a “coke pinky”.
Tuh as if I would ever do coke. I do not indulge in drugs. Ok I smoke weed once every blue moon but that’s it. I don’t need an after school special to see what drugs do to the human body.
A “coke pinky”, in case anyone didn’t know, means that the pinky nails are longer than the rest of the nails in order to better scoop it up into your nose. You know in case the good old “dollar” bill isn’t working. I’d never gotten the “coke pinky” comment before, but I was highly amused. I can’t help those nails grow the fastest.
And does it look like I do drugs?
I think he was a dealer though because that’s the first thing he asked me.
We had a good laugh about that one. I’m not used to drug dealers trying to sell their wares in the club. I’m used to the good old corner hustlers asking are “you straight” and “what you need”.
The music was actually decent that night although that “Dutty Wine” dance don’t have anything on “Drunk White Gurls” dance. Shit I didn’t know whipping your damn hair all over the place like a deranged rock star actually had a name.
Let me find out there is a dance name for the awkward groping, offbeat dancing, and stiff stripper moves.
I personally find the dancing hilarious and I can not resist laughing when I see a group of girls who swear they are killing it on the dance floor when they are actually killing me with dance moves they’ve probably secretly copied from Save the Last Dance.
And if girls are really going to get on the bar and dance, make sure your outfit fits before hopping on the counter. Nothing is more disgusting than a girl digging her leotard out her butt every other second.
We did feel like pseudo celebrities because the cameramen always wanted to take a picture. I think it was because my breasts were hanging out of my shirt. And it’s not my imagination. I was asked twice by friends did my chest get bigger. And it was not because of the bra *lol*
Then when I sit and think about it…We were really the only people dancing…on beat.
Without spilling our alcohol all over the place. Shit for what I paid for that drink not a drop was falling out that cup. I would fight a motherfucker in the club for spilling my drink…or burning me with a cigarette.
This is very annoying. Stop trying to stunt and smoke that big nasty ass cigar in the club. And who smokes in a fucking crowded ass club…someone is just begging for an ass whooping. Because let that cigarette singe me…oh that’s a fight. Waving that shit all around…let some ashes flick into my hair.
Besides getting a little loose in the club, shit that bartender was trying to get me fucked up, I had a great time.
And I made it in the house at a decent time and I still got my 8 hours of sleep. The most important.
Although I did get a random text from someone early in the morning talking about “Good Morning”. This damn 202 number has been bugging me all week. I think I recognize the number but when I call it, no one picks up and when I send a text all I get is “You know who this is…”
I think 3+ years of having the same number is starting to come back and bite me on the ass. I think it’s time for a new number.
I wonder if they’ll let me have 867-5309 *lol*
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Damn BET Fell Off!!
It has been a minute since I have actually sat in front of the TV and watched a channel other than the few that I watch on a daily basis.
Hell it has been months since I have watched a music video. I remember a time when you could not drag me away from BET, MTV, and The Box. I knew every artists’ video by heart and let’s not get on when my cousins or friends and I would “recreate” a video on those boring summer days.
Imagine a bunch of ten-year-old girls in “satin” PJs recreating TLC’s Creep. Never mind we didn’t know what we were singing but ah the good old days before video chicks completely ruined videos. Now if we wanted to recreate a video all we need are bras and thongs while gyrating off beat to some rapper’s song that have nothing to do with the concept of the video at hand.
But I can’t blame the video chicks because a paycheck is a paycheck and I don’t believe that all of those girls are hoes and sometimes I can’t even blame the rapper because they’re only rapping about what their adoring public wants to hear. IMO I think 95% of rappers are “studio rappers” who wouldn’t know an AK-47 from a Super Soaker and are “manufactured thugs” but I guess that’s a different post. I fail to believe Jeezy is still rollin’ around upping those thangs on folks in a fucking Bentley. I fail to believe Jay Z is out selling “white” *or have ever sold drugs in that matter* after he leaves Def Jam for the day.
Or stashing it in Beyonce’s Gucci purse as they move through the airport.
So due to the complete garbage that is out there, I avoid most channels like that plague.
I’m starting to get back into Real World though although I stopped watching after the “Las Vegas” season. I watched a bit of Austin, Philly, and Key West but eh…the show is so stereotypical right now it’s funny.
If they have a DC casting I am so there though. Ever since high school I wanted to try out for Real World and I was pissed that I didn’t find out about Real World: Chicago until after they had already finished casting calls.
Could you imagine that one, I would so take them on the South Side for “real” living. Imagine…first run-ins with a crackhead, someone probably getting shot or popped off on the block, witnessing a fist fight in the street over LaKeitha’s baby daddy….Boy that season wouldn’t know what to do with themselves *lol*
They probably will not pick me but I would send in a tape. I’d either be “Angry Black Ghetto Chick” aka “Coral Jr.” *only without the HUGE breasts even though our foreheads are neck to neck* or “Crazy Chick who everyone votes out the house after I attack a roommate with a spork for eating my French fries”
BET…Oh my…It has fallen off tremendously. Like I was shocked at how much BET sucks now.
I thought bloggers were joking when they would gripe about BET but now I see the light.
I only made it half way through 106 & Park before I turned. Not that I watched it a lot when AJ & Free would host, hell they sucked too, I only watched for Free’s wardrobe and hair, but these two new kids?
Please. My 5-year-old nephew could host better than they could and he knows all the words to “I’m A King” by T.I.
They are not funny, awkward as hell, and just goofy. And old girl voice is annoying. She needs a Hall’s cough drop or something.
The videos…eh I could comment on videos for hours. Mainly the same concepts, chicks, and people dominated the ½ hour of the show I gave sparse attention to.
I guess people just stop giving a fuck in the “Writer’s Workshop” huh? Just throw in a rapper, a car, and some cute girls and that’s it.
And please if you’re going to make a “club scene” let’s make it realistic. I don’t know where everyone is from but where I’m from I have yet to see a chick waltz in the club in a bikini. That’s a “rape” waiting to happen in the club because you know some vulture wouldn’t hesitate to either untie the strings or stick their hands down the front “Press Play” style of some girl’s bottom. I mean maybe the top is worn *mine are too “colorful” to pass as a top* but the entire suit? And I’ve seen all walks of fashion in the club from the classy chick to the chick that just look as if she’s gotten off her shift on the nearest corner. So I know “skanky” does exist in the club…but a damn bikini?
I remember when I had to convince a friend to buy a bathing suit and she baulked at the price of a bikini…from Target. This heifer was walking around with a $300 Coach bag but complaining on the price of a $30 bikini.
And the whole purpose of the bathing suit? To wear the top to the club. Not the bottoms but the top.
But in video bitches be looking like they’re going swimming or some shit.
I mean shit is just garbage on BET. I was watching the countdown show and I was like “Damn where’s Ray J”? Everyone knows I loved to crack on Ray J, the prototype of “lame”, on the countdown show. Now it’s some chick dryly announcing videos.
The movies…I mean could BET PLEASE invest in a new movie catalog? If I see Three Strikes one more time I am going to scream. I mean USA and TBS has tremendously stepped up their movie catalog game…when will BET? There are more black movies out there than Master P’s old movies! I Got The Hookup is not a cinemas classic!
Damn I’ll even take old Hits from the Streets or Cita’s World episodes than the shit that is cranked out now on BET. I mean someone finally airing old “The Wire” episodes *in January* is great…although I wish it were on a different channel.
I mean even TV One is stepping up their airing game with old Martin, Boston Public, and New York Undercover to name a few good shows. I watch that channel more than I watch BET.
MTV is not any better with the crappy ass shows they are squirting out but BET should hang its head in shame. This is the baldhead stepchild in the basement channel.
Or maybe it’s not exactly BET; it’s just the crappy videos. I remember when videos were about something. At least they had a decent plot, choreography or something to keep my interest and make me want to hear more music from that particular artist or group. I remember back when I would patiently wait for a new Immature video and call all of my little friends shrieking because their new video is on. Not to mention the times I would call The Box and request my favorite videos until my mother put a quick stop on that.
Now…I don’t care. I’m so behind when it comes to music the only time I hear a new song is when I’m in the car and it’s on the radio, when I go to the club and even then I have to ask “who is that” or when JBN downloads new songs for his I-POD.
I mainly rely on my gossip blogs to keep me entertained about artists since I know I won’t watch any of their videos.
But I find comedy in anything so I got a good laugh out of watching those videos. I mean give me $500 and a camera phone and I can crank out some better shit than what’s airing.
I wonder do artists really believe some of the crap they’re talking about? Do they really believe they are drug dealers? Do they really believe someone could be scared of them? I am so shivering in my shoes at the thought of Young Joc running up on me in a pastel polo and some shoes with bunnies scrawled all over them. I am just shaking. I mean 50 without his bodyguards? I highly doubt any of them step one foot in the ghetto without security detail. I mean seriously quit playing. All they are doing is "pretend talking"...HELLO Jay-Z is the President of Def Jam. He is so far above your struggle right now. I bet he have a ghostwriter reliving the tails of his own "ghetto" life. Seriously...when the album goes platinum and an artist finish paying off the obnoxious loans and "advances" the record label trick them with...trust they are on a whole different status than us average joes.
Or if not...Shit they sure do know how to pretend.
But I think artists really start buying into the shit that comes out of their mouths. Like Beyonce is really going to “Upgrade” Jay Z. I mean sometimes he needs to upgrade her with a better wardrobe and weave because after a certain age, let’s admit it, we stop letting our parents dress us and do our hair.
I fail to believe she don’t have enough in her budget for a pedicure and a good “Toni Braxton ‘99” weave. Because frankly that's the last time Toni rocked a decent weave. I remember when her shit was so tight made me want to get a weave. Although I liked Toni when she had the short hair and I thought she was a lesbian.
I fail to believe Ciara can gyrate in those high waist tight ass jeans without popping a button. And she pops her coochie just a little too much in her videos for me. But she’s a cute girl though. I’m still mad she did that song with R. Kelly on her first cd.
Snoop Dogg and R. Kelly…please sit yall old asses down. Straight old men in the club.
Weezy F. Baby and Jim Jones…I don’t care how much money you have a fucking bath is mandatory! I kept spraying the TV with Lysol thinking it was the TV screen that was dirty…but no, it’s these two “Pig Pen” niggaz! I mean it’s one thing to be dirty and look like you’re dirty and these two look like they smell like weed, underarms, balls, and Funyons. With their hair smelling like that musty smell that people have when they don’t wash their hair for long periods of time.
Just nasty. Not even if I was drunk, blind and I knew no one would find out could they come anywhere near my vaginal area.
I know those girls deserved Oscars because I know I couldn’t stand in the same room with them without passing out. And pretend as if you wanted to be around them? That’s good ass acting skills right there. Those video chicks earned that money that night.
But then again, for some people, money makes everyone look good.
I say a baseball cap and nice gear may up a point or two. But then again when was the last time a “pretty” rapper came out? Or hell a “pretty” R&B singer? Ok I back track. There are quite a few cuties on the R&B circuit right now. But rappers? Ummm Little Zane was kind of cute in an alien sort of way. Wait does he count as a rapper?
I guess that you have to be ugly as shit in order to rap. I mean aren’t those the ones that’s supposedly on the grind? I mean a pretty face is memorable but an ugly one is forgettable, right?
I mean there are some of both *the pretty and the tragic* that I would like to forget but would it kill record executives to put out someone cute? It sure would be nice to actually use the face and body that comes with the voice.
Ok well not their voices either but it would be nice to have the complete package *face, body, and voice*.
But of course you can’t tell my cousin Bow Wow, Chris Brown and Lil’ Wayne is not the shit. To them, these guys are the finest men in the world and you can’t convince them otherwise.
But can I really talk? I had a shrine dedicated to BJ Armstrong, “Batman”, Tevin Campbell, J’Son, Jason Weaver, Penny Hardaway, Al B. Sure, the guys from Subway, Mr. Devante and Dalvin **shudder**, Soul 4 Real, A+ and a slew of other one hit wonders who probably belongs on “Where Are They Now: Black Folk Edition” or the very least a Google search.
But you couldn’t tell me I shouldn’t spend my weekly allowance or save up for one of their tapes or cds. And dub off the radio? I’ve found tapes of my radio taping days. Ah WGCI and 106 Jamz…takes me back to the 20-second workout, extended workout, Birthday Shout outs and All Eyes on Me.
Even though I used to hate when the DJ would cut in on the song before it ended and I would have to run across the room to cut the tape off.
The tales of my youth. What a wonderful thing.
I thought TLC was the “be all, end all” as far as female groups. You couldn’t tell me nothing about TLC. My girls and I had their routines down, their dressing down *Ok well my mother wasn’t for the condom over my glasses and shit*, and I wore my hair like Left Eye for so long my family thought I would never get out of wearing a pony tail. My older cousin was always T Boz because she rocked the latest in “Ghetto Hair” fashions. She was the first of us to get the “box cut”, which I thought was the shit until I hacked my hair off and cried the next day because I didn’t like it. Fucking hair has not grown right since. And our best friend and “play cousin” was always Chilli because she was the “light skinned” one. And she had “good hair”. *lol* She wanted to be Left Eye and I think we got into a big fight over being Left Eye but I won because I made the point that I’m Left Eye and if I can’t be Left Eye no one can listen to my boom box anymore *lol*
Now…whom do I have for inspiration? The now defunct Destiny’s Child? Even though I thought they were pretty cool when they first came out. I think I wanted one of their outfits from their videos *lol* Of course I was LeToya…for obvious reasons.
Funny enough, we never had a Beyonce. I don’t think anyone wanted to be her, well no one resembled her the most. I felt I should have been Kelly because I was thin and dark but I was LeToya because my name is LaToya.
I know dumb, right?
But I look back at those times and remember when I really enjoyed watching BET. When the shows were not snooze fests or unintentionally funny *College Hill I’m looking right at you on this one* or just plain dumb as hell.
Maybe I’m really growing up. When today’s music scene doesn’t dictate my fashion or music choices. When I’m not checking for the latest video to see what’s the hottest hair style or trendy “must have”.
When I’m not look at the newest artists and squealing, “OMG I LOVES me some [insert artist’s name], Girl I would “do” him in a heartbeat.”
Now I’m scratching my head when I hear a ring tone and asking “Who in the world is that?” and listen as the younger generation *LOL at younger generation like 23 is so much older* as they roll their eyes and explain “snap music”, “chicken noodle soup” and why Lil’ Wayne is so much hotter than Jay-Z right now.
All while I’m wondering did T-Pain really wipe his mouth super nasty like in the “U and Dat” video.
*sigh* BET you have officially damaged our youth. That and the “Chicken Noodle Soup” dance.
*flips back to The History Channel to catch the end of Modern Marvels*
Hell it has been months since I have watched a music video. I remember a time when you could not drag me away from BET, MTV, and The Box. I knew every artists’ video by heart and let’s not get on when my cousins or friends and I would “recreate” a video on those boring summer days.
Imagine a bunch of ten-year-old girls in “satin” PJs recreating TLC’s Creep. Never mind we didn’t know what we were singing but ah the good old days before video chicks completely ruined videos. Now if we wanted to recreate a video all we need are bras and thongs while gyrating off beat to some rapper’s song that have nothing to do with the concept of the video at hand.
But I can’t blame the video chicks because a paycheck is a paycheck and I don’t believe that all of those girls are hoes and sometimes I can’t even blame the rapper because they’re only rapping about what their adoring public wants to hear. IMO I think 95% of rappers are “studio rappers” who wouldn’t know an AK-47 from a Super Soaker and are “manufactured thugs” but I guess that’s a different post. I fail to believe Jeezy is still rollin’ around upping those thangs on folks in a fucking Bentley. I fail to believe Jay Z is out selling “white” *or have ever sold drugs in that matter* after he leaves Def Jam for the day.
Or stashing it in Beyonce’s Gucci purse as they move through the airport.
So due to the complete garbage that is out there, I avoid most channels like that plague.
I’m starting to get back into Real World though although I stopped watching after the “Las Vegas” season. I watched a bit of Austin, Philly, and Key West but eh…the show is so stereotypical right now it’s funny.
If they have a DC casting I am so there though. Ever since high school I wanted to try out for Real World and I was pissed that I didn’t find out about Real World: Chicago until after they had already finished casting calls.
Could you imagine that one, I would so take them on the South Side for “real” living. Imagine…first run-ins with a crackhead, someone probably getting shot or popped off on the block, witnessing a fist fight in the street over LaKeitha’s baby daddy….Boy that season wouldn’t know what to do with themselves *lol*
They probably will not pick me but I would send in a tape. I’d either be “Angry Black Ghetto Chick” aka “Coral Jr.” *only without the HUGE breasts even though our foreheads are neck to neck* or “Crazy Chick who everyone votes out the house after I attack a roommate with a spork for eating my French fries”
BET…Oh my…It has fallen off tremendously. Like I was shocked at how much BET sucks now.
I thought bloggers were joking when they would gripe about BET but now I see the light.
I only made it half way through 106 & Park before I turned. Not that I watched it a lot when AJ & Free would host, hell they sucked too, I only watched for Free’s wardrobe and hair, but these two new kids?
Please. My 5-year-old nephew could host better than they could and he knows all the words to “I’m A King” by T.I.
They are not funny, awkward as hell, and just goofy. And old girl voice is annoying. She needs a Hall’s cough drop or something.
The videos…eh I could comment on videos for hours. Mainly the same concepts, chicks, and people dominated the ½ hour of the show I gave sparse attention to.
I guess people just stop giving a fuck in the “Writer’s Workshop” huh? Just throw in a rapper, a car, and some cute girls and that’s it.
And please if you’re going to make a “club scene” let’s make it realistic. I don’t know where everyone is from but where I’m from I have yet to see a chick waltz in the club in a bikini. That’s a “rape” waiting to happen in the club because you know some vulture wouldn’t hesitate to either untie the strings or stick their hands down the front “Press Play” style of some girl’s bottom. I mean maybe the top is worn *mine are too “colorful” to pass as a top* but the entire suit? And I’ve seen all walks of fashion in the club from the classy chick to the chick that just look as if she’s gotten off her shift on the nearest corner. So I know “skanky” does exist in the club…but a damn bikini?
I remember when I had to convince a friend to buy a bathing suit and she baulked at the price of a bikini…from Target. This heifer was walking around with a $300 Coach bag but complaining on the price of a $30 bikini.
And the whole purpose of the bathing suit? To wear the top to the club. Not the bottoms but the top.
But in video bitches be looking like they’re going swimming or some shit.
I mean shit is just garbage on BET. I was watching the countdown show and I was like “Damn where’s Ray J”? Everyone knows I loved to crack on Ray J, the prototype of “lame”, on the countdown show. Now it’s some chick dryly announcing videos.
The movies…I mean could BET PLEASE invest in a new movie catalog? If I see Three Strikes one more time I am going to scream. I mean USA and TBS has tremendously stepped up their movie catalog game…when will BET? There are more black movies out there than Master P’s old movies! I Got The Hookup is not a cinemas classic!
Damn I’ll even take old Hits from the Streets or Cita’s World episodes than the shit that is cranked out now on BET. I mean someone finally airing old “The Wire” episodes *in January* is great…although I wish it were on a different channel.
I mean even TV One is stepping up their airing game with old Martin, Boston Public, and New York Undercover to name a few good shows. I watch that channel more than I watch BET.
MTV is not any better with the crappy ass shows they are squirting out but BET should hang its head in shame. This is the baldhead stepchild in the basement channel.
Or maybe it’s not exactly BET; it’s just the crappy videos. I remember when videos were about something. At least they had a decent plot, choreography or something to keep my interest and make me want to hear more music from that particular artist or group. I remember back when I would patiently wait for a new Immature video and call all of my little friends shrieking because their new video is on. Not to mention the times I would call The Box and request my favorite videos until my mother put a quick stop on that.
Now…I don’t care. I’m so behind when it comes to music the only time I hear a new song is when I’m in the car and it’s on the radio, when I go to the club and even then I have to ask “who is that” or when JBN downloads new songs for his I-POD.
I mainly rely on my gossip blogs to keep me entertained about artists since I know I won’t watch any of their videos.
But I find comedy in anything so I got a good laugh out of watching those videos. I mean give me $500 and a camera phone and I can crank out some better shit than what’s airing.
I wonder do artists really believe some of the crap they’re talking about? Do they really believe they are drug dealers? Do they really believe someone could be scared of them? I am so shivering in my shoes at the thought of Young Joc running up on me in a pastel polo and some shoes with bunnies scrawled all over them. I am just shaking. I mean 50 without his bodyguards? I highly doubt any of them step one foot in the ghetto without security detail. I mean seriously quit playing. All they are doing is "pretend talking"...HELLO Jay-Z is the President of Def Jam. He is so far above your struggle right now. I bet he have a ghostwriter reliving the tails of his own "ghetto" life. Seriously...when the album goes platinum and an artist finish paying off the obnoxious loans and "advances" the record label trick them with...trust they are on a whole different status than us average joes.
Or if not...Shit they sure do know how to pretend.
But I think artists really start buying into the shit that comes out of their mouths. Like Beyonce is really going to “Upgrade” Jay Z. I mean sometimes he needs to upgrade her with a better wardrobe and weave because after a certain age, let’s admit it, we stop letting our parents dress us and do our hair.
I fail to believe she don’t have enough in her budget for a pedicure and a good “Toni Braxton ‘99” weave. Because frankly that's the last time Toni rocked a decent weave. I remember when her shit was so tight made me want to get a weave. Although I liked Toni when she had the short hair and I thought she was a lesbian.
I fail to believe Ciara can gyrate in those high waist tight ass jeans without popping a button. And she pops her coochie just a little too much in her videos for me. But she’s a cute girl though. I’m still mad she did that song with R. Kelly on her first cd.
Snoop Dogg and R. Kelly…please sit yall old asses down. Straight old men in the club.
Weezy F. Baby and Jim Jones…I don’t care how much money you have a fucking bath is mandatory! I kept spraying the TV with Lysol thinking it was the TV screen that was dirty…but no, it’s these two “Pig Pen” niggaz! I mean it’s one thing to be dirty and look like you’re dirty and these two look like they smell like weed, underarms, balls, and Funyons. With their hair smelling like that musty smell that people have when they don’t wash their hair for long periods of time.
Just nasty. Not even if I was drunk, blind and I knew no one would find out could they come anywhere near my vaginal area.
I know those girls deserved Oscars because I know I couldn’t stand in the same room with them without passing out. And pretend as if you wanted to be around them? That’s good ass acting skills right there. Those video chicks earned that money that night.
But then again, for some people, money makes everyone look good.
I say a baseball cap and nice gear may up a point or two. But then again when was the last time a “pretty” rapper came out? Or hell a “pretty” R&B singer? Ok I back track. There are quite a few cuties on the R&B circuit right now. But rappers? Ummm Little Zane was kind of cute in an alien sort of way. Wait does he count as a rapper?
I guess that you have to be ugly as shit in order to rap. I mean aren’t those the ones that’s supposedly on the grind? I mean a pretty face is memorable but an ugly one is forgettable, right?
I mean there are some of both *the pretty and the tragic* that I would like to forget but would it kill record executives to put out someone cute? It sure would be nice to actually use the face and body that comes with the voice.
Ok well not their voices either but it would be nice to have the complete package *face, body, and voice*.
But of course you can’t tell my cousin Bow Wow, Chris Brown and Lil’ Wayne is not the shit. To them, these guys are the finest men in the world and you can’t convince them otherwise.
But can I really talk? I had a shrine dedicated to BJ Armstrong, “Batman”, Tevin Campbell, J’Son, Jason Weaver, Penny Hardaway, Al B. Sure, the guys from Subway, Mr. Devante and Dalvin **shudder**, Soul 4 Real, A+ and a slew of other one hit wonders who probably belongs on “Where Are They Now: Black Folk Edition” or the very least a Google search.
But you couldn’t tell me I shouldn’t spend my weekly allowance or save up for one of their tapes or cds. And dub off the radio? I’ve found tapes of my radio taping days. Ah WGCI and 106 Jamz…takes me back to the 20-second workout, extended workout, Birthday Shout outs and All Eyes on Me.
Even though I used to hate when the DJ would cut in on the song before it ended and I would have to run across the room to cut the tape off.
The tales of my youth. What a wonderful thing.
I thought TLC was the “be all, end all” as far as female groups. You couldn’t tell me nothing about TLC. My girls and I had their routines down, their dressing down *Ok well my mother wasn’t for the condom over my glasses and shit*, and I wore my hair like Left Eye for so long my family thought I would never get out of wearing a pony tail. My older cousin was always T Boz because she rocked the latest in “Ghetto Hair” fashions. She was the first of us to get the “box cut”, which I thought was the shit until I hacked my hair off and cried the next day because I didn’t like it. Fucking hair has not grown right since. And our best friend and “play cousin” was always Chilli because she was the “light skinned” one. And she had “good hair”. *lol* She wanted to be Left Eye and I think we got into a big fight over being Left Eye but I won because I made the point that I’m Left Eye and if I can’t be Left Eye no one can listen to my boom box anymore *lol*
Now…whom do I have for inspiration? The now defunct Destiny’s Child? Even though I thought they were pretty cool when they first came out. I think I wanted one of their outfits from their videos *lol* Of course I was LeToya…for obvious reasons.
Funny enough, we never had a Beyonce. I don’t think anyone wanted to be her, well no one resembled her the most. I felt I should have been Kelly because I was thin and dark but I was LeToya because my name is LaToya.
I know dumb, right?
But I look back at those times and remember when I really enjoyed watching BET. When the shows were not snooze fests or unintentionally funny *College Hill I’m looking right at you on this one* or just plain dumb as hell.
Maybe I’m really growing up. When today’s music scene doesn’t dictate my fashion or music choices. When I’m not checking for the latest video to see what’s the hottest hair style or trendy “must have”.
When I’m not look at the newest artists and squealing, “OMG I LOVES me some [insert artist’s name], Girl I would “do” him in a heartbeat.”
Now I’m scratching my head when I hear a ring tone and asking “Who in the world is that?” and listen as the younger generation *LOL at younger generation like 23 is so much older* as they roll their eyes and explain “snap music”, “chicken noodle soup” and why Lil’ Wayne is so much hotter than Jay-Z right now.
All while I’m wondering did T-Pain really wipe his mouth super nasty like in the “U and Dat” video.
*sigh* BET you have officially damaged our youth. That and the “Chicken Noodle Soup” dance.
*flips back to The History Channel to catch the end of Modern Marvels*
Saturday, December 16, 2006
My Night Out With the CCHR
Thursday I went to a Scientologist event.
And strangely enough…I enjoyed it.
Thursday was my day off and I was lying around the house as usual when JBN emailed me *yeah we email each other all the time* and asked did I want to go to this event named “Psychiatry: An Industry of Death - Touring Exhibit & Documentaries” that was advertised in the Express newspaper.
Of course, he was interested because he is currently pursuing in Masters in the field and I was interested because, well, it seemed interesting.
Now don’t get me wrong the program was very interesting. I do think he lost interest halfway through and started to nod off but I was very intently into the subject.
I was a little suspicious coming in because the people were just too damn happy for me. Just smiling real wide and over zealous with handshakes and hugs.
You know how I feel about strangers touching me.
The gust of the program was the “evils” of psychiatrists and pharmaceuticals companies and how they are modern day drug pushers for mental illnesses, which do not exist. No mental illnesses exists according to the CCHR, which is a subgroup of Scientology, they are made up entities devised by psychiatrists in order to get money.
Which I agree with…to some extent.
There was also a documentary on the history of “mental illness” and the “evil” psychiatrists behind it. It discussed popular psychiatrist and how wrong many of their popular theories were. They also discussed how psychology has entrenched every part of society.
Now I agreed with many of the points the documentary stated. I do believe that there are made-up illnesses just for the purpose of pumping drugs. Some of these illnesses are down right hilarious. I think it is just people who are just trying to get over on the State and collect disability.
Because in that case everyone has some sort of mental disorder.
JBN has 95% of the books they blasted in the documentary and even he sort of agreed that everyone is going to fit in some category in the book.
I don’t believe in the doping of children. Not all children have ADHD, some are just active. I don’t believe drugging a child into submission is the answer. Some children are just generally bored with their class work and needs more stimulation and challenges. Then those are the ones who just need an ass whooping…but that is another story.
Shit their brains are still developing imagine what those drugs would do to their developing brains?
I do believe that some, not all, psychiatrists are nothing more than drug pushers. They’re quick to prescribe pills but not offer any real therapy.
BUT I don’t agree with the notion that mental illness do not exist. I do believe that some mental illnesses exist and I don’t buy their bullshit theory that there is no such things as chemical imbalances in the brain. I believe that some mental illnesses are caused by imbalances in the brain and are not just “made up”. I mean how does a person “make up” schizophrenia if they have never read about symptoms? Who wakes up one day and says, “Hmm I’ll be bi polar today?”
This comes from personal experiences because I do have family members who have mental illnesses and JBN's mother have schizophrenia and I know that something is wrong; I won't say that they are "faking" an illness in order to obtain drugs, because I've found that they stop taking their medications because they don't like the side effects of the drugs, which of course makes their illness worse, but to for the documentary to state that "mental illnesses" do not exist was outrageous. There is a difference between schizophrenia and a so-called Caffeine Disorder.
I thought that was a crock and found that it was very interesting that none of them would answer my questions directly. They brushed them off with no real answer.
The documentaries also were a little bias. They failed to show the good in psychology such as some drugs do help treat certain symptoms of mental illnesses. While they are not a cure, they do help alleviates certain symptoms.
And everyone knows early psychiatrists were crackpots and half-crazy or drugged up themselves but what about modern psychiatrists who have done more good than harm?
I understand where they were coming from but at the same time show both sides not the bad side.
But the Scientologists are crazy though. They smiled a little too much even when I was debating with them. I think they were trying to convert us so I warned JBN not to eat the cookies because who knows…might wake up in the Scientologist basement strapped to a medieval torture device. Um yeah I believe in God, not some other dude. Fuck around and go home talking about I'm a Scientologist, I'd either get holy water tossed on me.
That or asked is that a new job description.
And they wouldn’t answer our questions completely because JBN kept drilling them although I think one guy was starting to get annoyed with us because we kept asking questions and answering a question with a question. He was starting to lose the smile and take on that "Tom Cruise" crazy eye.
Besides the uniforms were ugly. I do not look good in a jean shirt and khakis. Ima need a church hat or something to go with the outfit. The gaudy suits, I mean I would so rock a peacock blue suit with matching stockings and heels...not to mention the church hat with the matching feathers, waving my church fan as I catch the Holy Ghost.
Can you do that in a Scientology Center? I think not.
But an interesting program nonetheless.
Next up...Actually going in the Scientology building. A girl gotta find comedy in something right?
And strangely enough…I enjoyed it.
Thursday was my day off and I was lying around the house as usual when JBN emailed me *yeah we email each other all the time* and asked did I want to go to this event named “Psychiatry: An Industry of Death - Touring Exhibit & Documentaries” that was advertised in the Express newspaper.
Of course, he was interested because he is currently pursuing in Masters in the field and I was interested because, well, it seemed interesting.
Now don’t get me wrong the program was very interesting. I do think he lost interest halfway through and started to nod off but I was very intently into the subject.
I was a little suspicious coming in because the people were just too damn happy for me. Just smiling real wide and over zealous with handshakes and hugs.
You know how I feel about strangers touching me.
The gust of the program was the “evils” of psychiatrists and pharmaceuticals companies and how they are modern day drug pushers for mental illnesses, which do not exist. No mental illnesses exists according to the CCHR, which is a subgroup of Scientology, they are made up entities devised by psychiatrists in order to get money.
Which I agree with…to some extent.
There was also a documentary on the history of “mental illness” and the “evil” psychiatrists behind it. It discussed popular psychiatrist and how wrong many of their popular theories were. They also discussed how psychology has entrenched every part of society.
Now I agreed with many of the points the documentary stated. I do believe that there are made-up illnesses just for the purpose of pumping drugs. Some of these illnesses are down right hilarious. I think it is just people who are just trying to get over on the State and collect disability.
Because in that case everyone has some sort of mental disorder.
JBN has 95% of the books they blasted in the documentary and even he sort of agreed that everyone is going to fit in some category in the book.
I don’t believe in the doping of children. Not all children have ADHD, some are just active. I don’t believe drugging a child into submission is the answer. Some children are just generally bored with their class work and needs more stimulation and challenges. Then those are the ones who just need an ass whooping…but that is another story.
Shit their brains are still developing imagine what those drugs would do to their developing brains?
I do believe that some, not all, psychiatrists are nothing more than drug pushers. They’re quick to prescribe pills but not offer any real therapy.
BUT I don’t agree with the notion that mental illness do not exist. I do believe that some mental illnesses exist and I don’t buy their bullshit theory that there is no such things as chemical imbalances in the brain. I believe that some mental illnesses are caused by imbalances in the brain and are not just “made up”. I mean how does a person “make up” schizophrenia if they have never read about symptoms? Who wakes up one day and says, “Hmm I’ll be bi polar today?”
This comes from personal experiences because I do have family members who have mental illnesses and JBN's mother have schizophrenia and I know that something is wrong; I won't say that they are "faking" an illness in order to obtain drugs, because I've found that they stop taking their medications because they don't like the side effects of the drugs, which of course makes their illness worse, but to for the documentary to state that "mental illnesses" do not exist was outrageous. There is a difference between schizophrenia and a so-called Caffeine Disorder.
I thought that was a crock and found that it was very interesting that none of them would answer my questions directly. They brushed them off with no real answer.
The documentaries also were a little bias. They failed to show the good in psychology such as some drugs do help treat certain symptoms of mental illnesses. While they are not a cure, they do help alleviates certain symptoms.
And everyone knows early psychiatrists were crackpots and half-crazy or drugged up themselves but what about modern psychiatrists who have done more good than harm?
I understand where they were coming from but at the same time show both sides not the bad side.
But the Scientologists are crazy though. They smiled a little too much even when I was debating with them. I think they were trying to convert us so I warned JBN not to eat the cookies because who knows…might wake up in the Scientologist basement strapped to a medieval torture device. Um yeah I believe in God, not some other dude. Fuck around and go home talking about I'm a Scientologist, I'd either get holy water tossed on me.
That or asked is that a new job description.
And they wouldn’t answer our questions completely because JBN kept drilling them although I think one guy was starting to get annoyed with us because we kept asking questions and answering a question with a question. He was starting to lose the smile and take on that "Tom Cruise" crazy eye.
Besides the uniforms were ugly. I do not look good in a jean shirt and khakis. Ima need a church hat or something to go with the outfit. The gaudy suits, I mean I would so rock a peacock blue suit with matching stockings and heels...not to mention the church hat with the matching feathers, waving my church fan as I catch the Holy Ghost.
Can you do that in a Scientology Center? I think not.
But an interesting program nonetheless.
Next up...Actually going in the Scientology building. A girl gotta find comedy in something right?
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Holiday Party
We had our office party yesterday and surprise surprise folks got drunk.
I was not one of them by the way, I sipped on Coke and Sprite the entire time.
I did get one of those Victoria Secret’s bags with the spray, lotion, and body wash from my “Secret Santa” who was this guy I suspect have a crush on me. He’s a nice guy but he rubs me the wrong way. He always seems a little into my personal life which creeps me out in addition to the staring that I catch him doing every once and awhile.
Hey I’m all for staring but please not the creepy molester stares. It’s like he’s always undressing me with his eyes and of course those are the days when I’m not wearing a matching bra and panty set.
I thought it was hilarious that one girl received sexy *and I do mean sexy* lingerie and she turned so red I thought she was choking for a hot second. Never mind that I think she is an undercover lesbian but that’s another story.
Basically folks got drunk and began to act a damn fool. Which is when I made my stage left exit and took my ass home. I was tired as shit. I crawled in the bed as soon as I got home.
My transfer papers went in, now I just have to wait for the phone calls. I was a little surprised that my manager was for my promotion. He’s not the type of boss that gives out compliments but I saw the recommendation letters and I was very surprised that he was impressed by my work.
Is this a different person whom I catch behind me just after I’ve read a guest to death about coming at me from the side of his/her neck? Once again, I don’t set the rates nor do I book reservations. Stop fronting like you didn’t get that confirmation email stating you’re paying $269/night!
And look I don’t make the rules for Arlington County, you are not tax exempt! That’s not even a government issued credit card! Shit I got that same Visa in my purse, quit playing! DC is just across the bridge! What makes you think government employees don’t pay taxes, shit everyone pays taxes in Arlington!
I got my new phone Monday and I am so in love with it. Ok I dropped it already but it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t drop my phone.
I almost got hit by a bus texting though. Damn texting is going to be my downfall because I was inches from ending up like that girl from Final Destination.
Although if the bus was a CTA bus I’m sure that bitch would’ve broken down about a block away. I used to hate when I was already late for school and the fucking 106/103 bus would break the fuck down on Michigan…Like I was going to walk to Cottage Grove. Fuck that shit, I already used my fare card, I’m going to get my money’s worth.
I cooked macaroni and cheese for the party and no one had to be rushed to Georgetown University Hospital for food poisoning. And dare I say it…but everyone enjoyed it? Sure there were probably some haters in the room but I know that pan was gone when I left.
Why do some men make it a point of standing really close to you while trying to holla? All up in my personal space and shit. I don’t like for people to get really, really close to me, I mean do I know you?
I’m waiting for the Blue Line train yesterday morning *I was actually going to drive but it was too foggy out and we all know my bad driving record* and some guy felt the need to get all up in my personal space. It’s too early in the morning to holler and I really was trying to catch that quick 10 minute nap but nooooo…Sir Yaps A Lot would not shut the fuck up!
Once again, ½ empty trains do not mean sit next to me. That was my purse/macaroni and cheese seat you know.
And rude of rude, please look in me in my face. So what I was wearing the shirt that makes the breasts pop out like “Hi” but could you focus please?
But he was leaning in a little too close for my taste, I thought he was going to kiss me…and that would have concluded in me being led off the train in handcuffs.
And stop touching my damn hand! Who knows where your hands have been? I’ve seen men straight scratch their nuts scratch their nose and put their hand on the pole like they weren’t scratching their nuts like the crabs were moving around. Just yuck.
And didn’t blink an eye. But let me have scratched my vagina…fucking 6 foot radius around me like I have the plague or something.
So once again I had to decline his offer for my number and taking his down. Once again, I don’t ever plan on calling so don’t ask. And I don’t have time for the phone call that starts with, “Do you know who this is…”
Yeah this is a nigga who’s burning up my day time minutes so let me ‘gon head and just end this call.
Lesson #77-Don’t call me with the phone games.
I had to work in the morning and I’m not a morning person *anymore* so I’m usually grumpy for the first three or so hours *lol* I mean not a smile cracked but then again I never laugh at corny ass jokes…especially the ones on my name.
Guest: Wow…you check me in [# of nights] ago and you’re still here? Do you ever go home?
*insert guest chuckle like that’s the funniest shit ever*
Me: *dryly* Yeah they have me shackled in the basement. Almost like how my ancestors were shackled on that boat. At least I get potty privileges.
*Guest grabs folio and hastily leaves*
OR the infamous:
Guest: Your name is LaToya…Like in Jackson? Hey do you have a brother named Michael? *chuckle chuckle*
Me: *frown and evil eye*
*Guest grabs shit and gets the fuck away from me*
And my manager doesn’t see this? Damn I know that file is thick over at Corporate. Real thick. Just make sure my name is spelled right bitches *lol*
I guess since I’ve put in my transfer papers all of a sudden I’m getting the day shifts like I wanted but shit now my body is programmed to work nights. Shit I like sleeping until noon and then rolling to work. Shit 5 am getting up? That’s like waking up the dead.
JULES made a quite interesting tribute to me which is hilarious as shit. Please disregard his Harriet Tubman picture. Nigga got jokes. I guess I’ll get a “Muse Tribute” any way I can get it.
**Ok I couldn't link his page to mine for some reason, I guess that borderline just came out...So just check out his page**
Ah JULES maybe when you get rid of those tight A&F sweaters, we can holler. And I’ve never made it with a “Mexican” before. Might be “muy caliente”.
Yes TOLDJA…I am on the 4th grade level now. I LOVE the Hispanic housekeepers. They’re teaching me naughty words now.
I don’t know if this woman was playing but she asked was I Ethiopian. Please lady quit playing, I’m not that pretty. Aside from the “bad attitude” vibe I get from some Ethiopian women, I think Ethiopian women are sooo pretty.
Don’t worry CURLY…My girl crush for you is still intact *lol*
I personally think I am one hot chick. Very immature but hot. I just stand in front of the mirror, drinking Kool-Aid butt ass naked, and say “Damn I’m one Hot Bitch!”
Then the reply: “Baby could you get your ass out the mirror, I’m trying to shave!”
But I’m not conceited though. I know I have flaws. But I see I have to step up the picture game since folks *ahem HONEY, DOLLFACE* wanna rock the sexy pictures and shit.
I’m still trying to figure out how to work the flash on my camera.
Is it true men do “check-up” calls? To see if you’re single yet?
I think I may have gotten a couple this week. And a few Face Book notes. Never mind my status is on the page but whatever.
And how can you miss someone you don’t know? Some jerk on Black Planet sends me notes talking about “He Misses Me”….Could he be a stalker?
Lord knows I don’t need a DC stalker.
When going through an “address book” clean-up I deleted some dude’s number. Why did he call me the next day and invite me to dinner? Dude I don’t know you or remember your face what makes you think I will go out with you?
I was mad I picked up. If it doesn’t have a name attached oh that phone will ring. Better send me a text like, “I’m at my mama’s Ima call you from her phone” or something.
And why am I just finding out some of friends have “house” phones? Shit people use their cell even when they’re in the house and have a house phone. Ok I’m guilty of the same thing but I was surprised to find out people had house phones. For “business purposes”. You mean telemarketers and my job? That’s all that calls my house phone. That or people who can’t reach me on the cell and actually knows the house number.
I don’t know what I’m doing this weekend? Any suggestions?
I was not one of them by the way, I sipped on Coke and Sprite the entire time.
I did get one of those Victoria Secret’s bags with the spray, lotion, and body wash from my “Secret Santa” who was this guy I suspect have a crush on me. He’s a nice guy but he rubs me the wrong way. He always seems a little into my personal life which creeps me out in addition to the staring that I catch him doing every once and awhile.
Hey I’m all for staring but please not the creepy molester stares. It’s like he’s always undressing me with his eyes and of course those are the days when I’m not wearing a matching bra and panty set.
I thought it was hilarious that one girl received sexy *and I do mean sexy* lingerie and she turned so red I thought she was choking for a hot second. Never mind that I think she is an undercover lesbian but that’s another story.
Basically folks got drunk and began to act a damn fool. Which is when I made my stage left exit and took my ass home. I was tired as shit. I crawled in the bed as soon as I got home.
My transfer papers went in, now I just have to wait for the phone calls. I was a little surprised that my manager was for my promotion. He’s not the type of boss that gives out compliments but I saw the recommendation letters and I was very surprised that he was impressed by my work.
Is this a different person whom I catch behind me just after I’ve read a guest to death about coming at me from the side of his/her neck? Once again, I don’t set the rates nor do I book reservations. Stop fronting like you didn’t get that confirmation email stating you’re paying $269/night!
And look I don’t make the rules for Arlington County, you are not tax exempt! That’s not even a government issued credit card! Shit I got that same Visa in my purse, quit playing! DC is just across the bridge! What makes you think government employees don’t pay taxes, shit everyone pays taxes in Arlington!
I got my new phone Monday and I am so in love with it. Ok I dropped it already but it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t drop my phone.
I almost got hit by a bus texting though. Damn texting is going to be my downfall because I was inches from ending up like that girl from Final Destination.
Although if the bus was a CTA bus I’m sure that bitch would’ve broken down about a block away. I used to hate when I was already late for school and the fucking 106/103 bus would break the fuck down on Michigan…Like I was going to walk to Cottage Grove. Fuck that shit, I already used my fare card, I’m going to get my money’s worth.
I cooked macaroni and cheese for the party and no one had to be rushed to Georgetown University Hospital for food poisoning. And dare I say it…but everyone enjoyed it? Sure there were probably some haters in the room but I know that pan was gone when I left.
Why do some men make it a point of standing really close to you while trying to holla? All up in my personal space and shit. I don’t like for people to get really, really close to me, I mean do I know you?
I’m waiting for the Blue Line train yesterday morning *I was actually going to drive but it was too foggy out and we all know my bad driving record* and some guy felt the need to get all up in my personal space. It’s too early in the morning to holler and I really was trying to catch that quick 10 minute nap but nooooo…Sir Yaps A Lot would not shut the fuck up!
Once again, ½ empty trains do not mean sit next to me. That was my purse/macaroni and cheese seat you know.
And rude of rude, please look in me in my face. So what I was wearing the shirt that makes the breasts pop out like “Hi” but could you focus please?
But he was leaning in a little too close for my taste, I thought he was going to kiss me…and that would have concluded in me being led off the train in handcuffs.
And stop touching my damn hand! Who knows where your hands have been? I’ve seen men straight scratch their nuts scratch their nose and put their hand on the pole like they weren’t scratching their nuts like the crabs were moving around. Just yuck.
And didn’t blink an eye. But let me have scratched my vagina…fucking 6 foot radius around me like I have the plague or something.
So once again I had to decline his offer for my number and taking his down. Once again, I don’t ever plan on calling so don’t ask. And I don’t have time for the phone call that starts with, “Do you know who this is…”
Yeah this is a nigga who’s burning up my day time minutes so let me ‘gon head and just end this call.
Lesson #77-Don’t call me with the phone games.
I had to work in the morning and I’m not a morning person *anymore* so I’m usually grumpy for the first three or so hours *lol* I mean not a smile cracked but then again I never laugh at corny ass jokes…especially the ones on my name.
Guest: Wow…you check me in [# of nights] ago and you’re still here? Do you ever go home?
*insert guest chuckle like that’s the funniest shit ever*
Me: *dryly* Yeah they have me shackled in the basement. Almost like how my ancestors were shackled on that boat. At least I get potty privileges.
*Guest grabs folio and hastily leaves*
OR the infamous:
Guest: Your name is LaToya…Like in Jackson? Hey do you have a brother named Michael? *chuckle chuckle*
Me: *frown and evil eye*
*Guest grabs shit and gets the fuck away from me*
And my manager doesn’t see this? Damn I know that file is thick over at Corporate. Real thick. Just make sure my name is spelled right bitches *lol*
I guess since I’ve put in my transfer papers all of a sudden I’m getting the day shifts like I wanted but shit now my body is programmed to work nights. Shit I like sleeping until noon and then rolling to work. Shit 5 am getting up? That’s like waking up the dead.
JULES made a quite interesting tribute to me which is hilarious as shit. Please disregard his Harriet Tubman picture. Nigga got jokes. I guess I’ll get a “Muse Tribute” any way I can get it.
**Ok I couldn't link his page to mine for some reason, I guess that borderline just came out...So just check out his page**
Ah JULES maybe when you get rid of those tight A&F sweaters, we can holler. And I’ve never made it with a “Mexican” before. Might be “muy caliente”.
Yes TOLDJA…I am on the 4th grade level now. I LOVE the Hispanic housekeepers. They’re teaching me naughty words now.
I don’t know if this woman was playing but she asked was I Ethiopian. Please lady quit playing, I’m not that pretty. Aside from the “bad attitude” vibe I get from some Ethiopian women, I think Ethiopian women are sooo pretty.
Don’t worry CURLY…My girl crush for you is still intact *lol*
I personally think I am one hot chick. Very immature but hot. I just stand in front of the mirror, drinking Kool-Aid butt ass naked, and say “Damn I’m one Hot Bitch!”
Then the reply: “Baby could you get your ass out the mirror, I’m trying to shave!”
But I’m not conceited though. I know I have flaws. But I see I have to step up the picture game since folks *ahem HONEY, DOLLFACE* wanna rock the sexy pictures and shit.
I’m still trying to figure out how to work the flash on my camera.
Is it true men do “check-up” calls? To see if you’re single yet?
I think I may have gotten a couple this week. And a few Face Book notes. Never mind my status is on the page but whatever.
And how can you miss someone you don’t know? Some jerk on Black Planet sends me notes talking about “He Misses Me”….Could he be a stalker?
Lord knows I don’t need a DC stalker.
When going through an “address book” clean-up I deleted some dude’s number. Why did he call me the next day and invite me to dinner? Dude I don’t know you or remember your face what makes you think I will go out with you?
I was mad I picked up. If it doesn’t have a name attached oh that phone will ring. Better send me a text like, “I’m at my mama’s Ima call you from her phone” or something.
And why am I just finding out some of friends have “house” phones? Shit people use their cell even when they’re in the house and have a house phone. Ok I’m guilty of the same thing but I was surprised to find out people had house phones. For “business purposes”. You mean telemarketers and my job? That’s all that calls my house phone. That or people who can’t reach me on the cell and actually knows the house number.
I don’t know what I’m doing this weekend? Any suggestions?
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Random Talking Part II
Ok so I finally went and returned the bra to Victoria’s Secret and I was upset to discover that the aquarium bra that I had did not come in my size so I had to go with another color.
Why did the sales girl look at me like I were lying when I told her the bra was too small and I was exchanging it?
She must have stared at my face, my chest, and back to my face for at least five minutes. Trying to mentally size up my chest as if I’m in denial about my chest size. I also suspect that she was thinking, “Wow I didn’t know anyone outside of pre-teens wore B cups”.
You know I had her DD Cup wearing ass name so I could write a letter to Corporate about their discriminating practices toward women in the “Itty Bitty Titty” committee **Proud card holder since ‘97**.
Why do people try to get your attention and talk to you while you are occupied?
I’ll have my I-Pod on and people would try to hold conversations with me. Do they not see my eyes closed and me mouthing lyrics? What makes you think I want to talk to you?
Or I’ll be on my cell phone and someone is yakking off my other ear. Rude fucker…Do you not see that I’m on the phone?
And yes, I saw you out of my peripheral; it’s called “ignoring your ass”. A man in Victoria’s Secret with no obvious reason is creepy beyond belief. And fingering the panties? Just nasty.
So to get my “attention” he grabbed the purse arm. Never grab the purse arm. Ever. I’ve lived in too many neighborhoods with crack heads, which have my defenses on high.
So you know I swung on his ass right?
Don’t think because I’m small I don’t know how to scrape.
I guess he realized his mistake because he was about to get it in Pentagon City so he apologized and promptly asked me for my phone number. Which I had to decline. So he asked could I take his?
Would Santa put me on the naughty list because I told the guy it was no purpose of me taking his number as I never intend to call it?
Some days I am in a very flirty mood; other days I’m in a “get out of my face” mood.
I think that I’m a very nice person…when I want to be.
I love velour sweatpants. I guess I’m tacky because I never wear a shirt under my tracksuits BUT I do wear a matching bra, if that counts.
I hate shoes. I wish I could wear flip-flops all year long.
I also hate wearing socks. I try to avoid wearing them as much as possible. I am a bare foot queen.
I let the hubby open his X-Mas gift. Why did we spend 2 hours playing “Sonic the Hedgehog” *um yeah he wasn’t going to beat my ass at Madden* and it took us two hours…to just go up one level?
*sigh* I need to invest in a plain old Sega Genesis.
Damn these new realistic games that just let you run all over the place with no real setting. I like the old school games that wouldn’t let you go back and you had a straight course.
It’s funny when I went to Best Buy to buy the blasted machine, I was hit on by a lot of men. Faces fell when I told them it was a gift for my boyfriend.
Then I guess I got “cool points” for buying my man a system.
I don’t plan on gift-wrapping any gifts. Waste of paper.
My new phone comes in Monday and I can’t wait! Not only is my phone bill now cheaper by at least $50 because I won’t have data usage, there’s no way in hell I can break this phone!
I like TTL’s new phone.
I’m a little envious but I guess now he gets my text messages.
I think I have a crush on him.
But I’m too immature for him.
When I’m super silly, I’m very annoying. I’m like a kid on ADD, bouncing off the walls.
I think I look the best in the color red. I think I look chunky in black.
How many more months until spring? I really hate the cold weather right now.
It seems like I get pimples in the same place. Luckily, I don’t get body acne. I just break out on my cheeks, chin, or near my hairline.
I have to have all doors shut in order to sleep comfortably.
Our mirror fell off the back of the door, I am laughed at every night because I flip the mirror over. My grandmother told me to never have a mirror face your bed otherwise your spirit gets caught in it.
Yeah I’m superstitious. You can’t help it in my family.
Let someone sweep my feet or set my purse on the floor…That is a fight waiting to happen.
I love dark skinned men but why are the light-skinned ones the only one that chases me? Not that I have anything against light-skinned men but I am “Team Chocolate”.
Ooh and don’t let him have well kept dreads and even white teeth. I am a sucker for a pretty smile.
I’m getting closer to my goal of moving back to my old property or staying in the same neighborhood. This means back to rolling out of bed 30 minutes before work and dashing out the dppr.
But I will miss my Metro stories.
I was called “cheap” by a Salvation Army bell ringer…ain’t that ‘bout a bitch? Shit I didn’t have any change on me and I was going to go back but after being called cheap, tuh I took my change elsewhere.
Right to McDonald’s for a Sweet Tea.
I said “fuck this diet” when I think I’m getting too fat for real then my ass would hit the gym. I’m just trying to get rid of the pudge around my belly but screw it…I can still suck my stomach in and have a six-pack so I guess it’s not that bad.
I’m swearing off the mall…at least until I get my credit card paid down.
Is it really easier for women in the club? It’s not as if I go to the club and yell “Hey Guys…Buy me a drank…” and men just comply. Best believe if a man buys me a drink, he’s “club boyfriend” for the rest of the evening.
And when I buy a man a drink *and yes I do sometimes* most look at me as if I’m crazy. Sniffing the drink as if I slipped something in it. Or it’s a trick or something. Shit I don’t want you like that, just want a guy to know that I “saw” him.
Trust I am too pretty to rape someone, they give it up willingly.
Sometimes I love working in a hotel, other times I hate it. Mainly I dislike the customers. I could fill this blog up on gripes that I have about working in a hotel but the moral of the story: Leave me the hell alone and learn how to read!
I never understand how people check in and get an attitude with me over their rate. Shit I didn’t book your reservation! Holler at your damn secretary!
Don’t get mad at me because you got lost in DC, like I invented Map Quest or some shit?!
Another thing is since I’ve started working in a hotel I must give out a “I Can Help You With Directions” scent…I mean I’m trying to get to Colds Stone not how to get you to 1-66W!
And I am so bad with directions it’s crazy. My first week in DC, I merged onto the wrong lane and ended up in Woodbridge, VA! Then got lost and couldn’t get back to Maryland! I was so pissed, I called the hubby crying because I was so scared and the fucking Mexicans had me thinking DC was like hours away because they were blinking at me and shit.
I know they understood my 3rd grade Spanish!
I passed out Saturday. Too much wine, not enough food in my system. Like any alcoholic, I was drinking at home.
A white boy who is staying in my hotel has been flirting with me all weekend. Now if he looked like Justin, maybe, but no he looks like a plain old white boy.
And you know I’m wary of the “pink”. He asked me out to dinner but I’m not trying to end up as his chocolate eye candy. I had to decline, flashing the ring.
I want a pair of slouchy boots.
I have Hello Kitty lip-gloss that smells like Grapefruit.
This week is shaping up to be a great week. Holiday party this Wednesday. Let me make sure my camera is charged, I know someone is going to get drunk and make an ass out of himself.
I hope everyone had a more interesting weekend that myself.
Another reason I hate the winter time: It zaps my motivation to leave the house.
I'm thinking of going to see Mel Gibson's new movie. Have anyone seen it? Is it worth my money or should I just have one of my friends buy it on bootleg?
G is a character and a half. I love him to death.
I think there is a conspiracy for Express for Men. I'm going to get to the bottom of this, too many fine ass men working in that store and all of them gay? Or at least "curious"?
Bur I love the "Queens" all the same. Shit some of them are more woman than me and shit I have a real vagina!
Just let's not talk about the "X-Rated" stuff, I've heard enough shit from G on his blowing niggas backs out stories to have me turn green for days. Another reason "anal" is never an option in the bedroom.
But to each his own. Do you.
I'm a weird person. I accept that now.
But I'm not called "Tenacious" for nothing
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