Dear Miss Entitled Asshat that seemed to be angered because I happend to merge in front of her and followed my car in front of my children’s day care to scream something unintelligible out the window, then sped off: you just fandangoed with a Grade A ass whupping. Now, I know these days, yall don’t want to be bullied and take jujitsu and all that other tricky shit. However, here’s a little something you might want to know: I don’t like to be accosted either. I also keep something under the driver’s seat for individuals that choose to accost me. I don’t even have to pop the trunk hatchback on your ass. Do you really want to see my black ass reenact the controversial ending of Michael Jackson’s “Black or White” video on your car? Don’t get fucked up.
The coffee at my job? I hate it. I hate the way it tastes, I hate the way it smells. I’m also not a fan of coffee at the mega-shops (Starbucks, Caribou, for my New Orleans peeps, PJ’s). However, I need coffee. I need coffee as bad as Jazmine Sullivan needs that man that she needs bad as a heartbeat. I’ve polled my friends and family, and they say this makes me a crackhead.
Know what’s sexy? Getting eye-fucked on the train while my kids are sitting next to me. Being eyeballed like a slab of meat is such a turn-on. And by “sexy” and “turn-on,” I mean disgusting, creepy and slightly pitiful. I have given BIRTH. I am a sacred vessel bitch! RECOGNIZE!
Headhunters have been calling my phone. MERCILESSLY. My pocket says answer. I’ve never done a lateral move for salary. I’m also looking at the economy NOT getting better. I remember being a victim of last hired first fired post 9/11. Not cool. Granted, I have developed a far more marketble skill since then, but the fact remains that I’m not a fan of job hopping. My stability has served me well thus far. I’m not a “company” chick, but I certainly don’t want to go anywhere the wind (or paycheck) blows me, just for the sake of a few extra bucks. Some may say I’m loyal to a fault; others that I’m a flat out idiot.
My bunion hurts. The fact that I have one at all really fucks with me.
I try not to say “fuck” so much, but sometimes, it just feels so fucking good.
When I went on tour, Bubble looked like a tornado hit it. It feels so good to have that part of my universe back in order again.
Planning a birthday party is not as easy as it seems, but it is certainly keeping me busy. There WILL be dark rum at said party. Lots and lots of it.
A friend called me the other night and commented on my chipper mood. My secret? Dark rum. LOTS of dark rum.
Being astute and observant can sometimes be a curse. There are times that I just don’t want to be right about people or situations. Unfortunately, that’s rare. Even when I ignore what I’m feeling, in my gut, I tend to know how things are going to pan out. It makes it hard to enjoy life sometimes, but I do my damnedest to enjoy it anyway. My smile makes the sun come out, man. It would be selfish to deprive folks.
P.S. – I missed you guys yesterday. I had to be on my grind for all three of my gigs, so I completed a post, but didn’t finish. The reason I hate that is because I often abandon the idea of the post entirely for one reason or another. Blast!