My Instinct is to Make Fun of You For Using the Word “Humping.”

I hate shopping.

It is not one of those traits as a lady I was supposed to get.

I just despise it.

My approach, in this case, to grocery shopping or otherwise, is to get in and get out. I don’t dilly dally unlike my own sex who has a tendency to him and hawh and think and wonder “does this make me look fat?” or “can i get this ice cream in another flavor?” or “can i still purchase this with the expiration dated coupon even THOUGH I have three more of these SAME products at home?” If you are one of these people, please stay away from me, especially in the grocery store. When I’m in the grocery store, I am in a zone. I have to be. I focus on the aisles I need to go to, I don’t think about what I might forget. I have pen in tow to cross out the items. I am ready.. then I hear the usual top 40 songs of the late 80s and 90s over the loud speaker… I’m in a groove then I hear something. Something foul. Something extremely shitty. Something that makes my ears bleed..

A crappy rapper.

But no, not over the loud speaker. It’s not a 90s rapper. It’s Lil’ Wayne. It’s Rick Ross.. It’s Tech Nine (yeah unfortunately there’s a crappy rapper called Tech Nine).. But where? Where oh WHERE is this poor excuse for rap music coming from? Where I say? The closer I get to the frozen dinners, the louder I hear it.. clashing with say a Taylor Dane song (google her youngins).. it’s getting worse. Then, II find the noise. The cringing, ear piercing, auto tuning.. the GAAAAAAH. I figured out where it has come from.

A FUCKING CELL PHONE.

For some reason the young numbnuts who pass themselves off as supposed teenagers of today now think it’s COOL to play their music on their cell phones out loud for everyone to hear as if I haven’t been punished enough with shopping. NOW I have to endure hearing the latest crapper recite lyrics littered with filth. And there are young kids around, I might add. And we all know short, crying, annoying children are like sponges and soak up whatever is around them. So chances are what these young nuts of numb believe to be cool to do is inflicting a bad example on the youngins of…well not tomorrow. But the day after tomorrow in what to call people and how to act. You know it’s bad enough I have to endure listening to lousy rap and pop music in the cars of other people at intersections and in lanes. But my GOD the grocery store? The grocery store??? Is there NO place sacred anymore? Do you REALLY want to hear Rick Ross lie about his upbringing JUST to look cool?

If I had my way, I would own these grocery stores. I would go up and down the aisles and whoever is playing the cell phone music outloud I would approach them. I’d use a tazer. And I’d tase the hell out of them and throw them out. Shopping at a grocery store doesn’t mean it can be your own club. It’s a public place people. What kills me even more is that the security guard, the old rusty dusty guard who let’s face will do NOTHING should anything really truly bad happen in the store, lets these young people just get away with it. It isn’t just in the frozen food section too. I just saw numbnut after numbnut.. aisle after aisle. From the cookies to the breads, to the toothpastes.. every other row.. I’d hear Wayne in one, LMFAO in another, and gasp! Pitbull in the baked goods. I swear it was enough to make me want to go all Michael Douglas from Falling Down on them and go the fuck off! But if I do then I’M seen as the crazy one.

Chris Brown? *ZAP* Lil Wayne? *ZAP* Pitbull *Double ZAP* JUST because I’m forced to hear the phrase “Mr. Worldwide” a gazillion freaking times.. leaving their tasered bodies by the automatic exit closing door, followed by me saying “have nice day.”

With it being MLK’s b-day, I don’t think he imagined a time where race relations would share a store and be forced to listen to crap music heard on cell phones in harmony. I don’t think there is anything harmonious about these situations, do YOU?

Don’t answer that.

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I See Myself as the Little Ship…

Happy new year my wittle chilrens..

Ok. Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I trust you are ready for a new year of rants, questions, head turners, and “um, would you like fries with your napkins?” as that was asked of me while I grabbed a snootful of napkins at the counter by a cashier. Hey I KNOW places go cheap with napkins.. as I’ve stated in a previous blog. So I want to make sure I take my fair share with enough to put in my glove compartment in case I spill coffee on myself while driving. And yes, trust me it HAS happened.

Did you miss my own hijack of this blog? You didn’t? Well tough because I’m sure 2012 will have more of the same..

Now, back to why I am here. So you ever have those moments when you listen to music and certain artists you love, i mean F’LOVE but after a while you have to wonder “how much of this music I have is REALLY necessary?” Or, “If they keep putting out stuff, how much is enough?” While you still love bands, there might possibly come a time where you just can’t buy anymore of their stuff. It’s too much. You don’t have the time. Life gets in the way, and you put them on the backburner, You’re afraid of being inundated with music and it’s either never as GOOD as previous efforts or “it’s JUST not the same..” Yeah, I’ve been there. I’m still there. Anyone who knows me knows I am drawn to music the way a drug addict needs another hit. I am currently going through my entire collection of music, cds, tapes, and the few pieces of vinyl I have.. and I have often asked this past week, “how much is enough?” Can I just let go of a 5th album by a group as opposed to the first or second one I cannot LIVE WITHOUT? Will I feel like I’ve divorced a band? Does that make me a horrible fan? Or have I outgrown them and I just keep buying their albums based on the nostalgia I have from being 13?

It’s all of the above.

The problem is, at least for me as a fellow music head.. I am always afraid if bypass an album that is new of a favorite band or singer, I’m always afraid there will be something I have missed.. you know what I mean? That song that is buried under album filler after album filler that you wouldn’t blink an eye to but you take a gander and realize BOTH eyes are blinking. And I know what you’re thinking.. no I will not tell you what I look like.. no I do NOT have any Kenny G.. and even I HAVE MY LIMITS people.. You’re probably wondering why I just don’t download the single.. and I could but really, true music enthusiasts or even apprentices will enjoy buying the WHOLE album and not just a song. And even if the album sucks otherwise, part of the fun in music is buying it to see if your curiosity has peen poked, much like those blasted facebook “pokes.” But what the butt are those pokes about anyhooters? And then once I buy the album, I have a difficult time listening because my mind might be stuck in the 90s or late 80s during the hey day of a singer or band. And then it’s a let down. Or I just don’t have time to listen and I might just stop buying altogether. Life can be overwhelming sometimes.. and so can music.

Then you’ve got those artists who just don’t know WHEN to stop releasing music. And they just keep putting it out there. And you keep buying, because you still have a small place in your heart for them.  They got you through horrible times and for that you will always feel appreciation towards them for it. But the artists don’t know when to say WHEN and they keep touring the planet and after a while you just pull a Charlie Brown and hope for dear life the football is taken from underneath you and you move on. Painfully.. but you move on. It’s never as good as you wished it would be. Your heart is just torn. And that’s never a good place to be.

Overindulgence isn’t always a good thing. And a clean break could be. At least I could feel less stressed.. isn’t music supposed to un-stress you? Right? Right? Right?

So I ask.. when does one say “Enough already.. stop putting out albums!! I can’t take it anymore?”

Of course I say this as I started to listen to DJ Shadow’s album, The Outsider, which is soooo far inferior to Entroducing, and ended my evening listening to his latest “The Less You Know, the Better” which is far more superior than most of his previous efforts after Entro..

So is the life of a music head…

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I Am a Creature of Habit.

I love how the news is just a double edged sword. It claims it is there to inform us of goings on in the world. But it does more harm than good by putting fear in viewers over everything. We probably have a more schitzophrenic and scared nation now than ever before. I think the doctors and the news networks are in cahoots with each other to scare the crap out of all of us. For example:

“Scientists say…”

…that if we use our cell phones too much, it can cause can cancer.

…that if you take zoloft, cymbalta, yada yada blerg while preggers you have a chance of having a kid with a birth defect.. (Sidebar..why would anyone take these pills while they’re pregnant ANYWAY??? just adds to my theory of how so many are not the sharpest knives in the kitchen)

…unisom or ambien makes you fall asleep faster but we have tested that you can also become addicted.

…more germs are spread from people touching doorknobs, their computers, railings, car doors, bus seats  and train seats

You know what i wish? I will tell you anyway. I wish doctors would spend MORE TIME, ENERGY, AND WILLPOWER at trying to come up with, oh I don’t know the CURES for all of these issues instead of sounding like a broken record and telling folks what to be fearful of at the present. Next thing you know, they will say fear itself will lead to death. Oops, too late. That’s in the 4 am news coverage. People are going to turn into hermits. Which means, they will be living within their own germs. I personally know my germs on a first name basis. We work together. Do you?

We all learn as we get older that two things are certain, death and taxes. But people left out a crucial third. The third? That as you get older, your patience with people goes down the toilet. You just don’t have the energy nor the time to deal with idiocy. Oh maybe that’s me. After a certain age, I have come to the realization that a good chunk of people are just completely stuck on stupid and they refuse to fast forward, just stay in rewind. And yes that is a tape player reference. Look it up dear. Clearly said in Rod Sterling tone “submitted for your approval’:

I can’t stand motorcyclists and bicyclists. You want to know why? I will tell you. Because they spend more time trying to cause more headaches on the road while I’m in the car. We’re supposed to treat you all like motorists. Yet you continuously prove my point of frustration by going through stop signs, intersections, and let’s not forget red lights. But yet, i’m supposed to respect you all. If you can’t stop at a red light like us in the cars, then I have no sympathy for you if something happens. You all are NOT God. And last time I checked, it does NOT feel good to have a car door hit you because you tried to weave in and out of a lane. God forbid there are groups of you all one beside not behind, oh no because that would be too much like right, each other but beside each other holding up traffic EVEN more. And you all know what you’re doing because if there are three lanes, and you occupy TWO of the lanes, I can’t pass on the inside. Well I could, but unlike SOME drivers I abide by the law.  It also bugs the bejeezus out of my cockle doodle duck when I SEE a bike lane.. There’s an actual lane for you all to travel on, yet you all don’t use it. At all. Nope. I’m so glad DC used my hard earned tax money to paint the street bike lane to help people, and therefore eliminating perfectly good car lane space. Yeah. That’s just freaking fantastic. I love seeing that while the bike rider who is NOT in the newly painted bike lane is in between me and a big rig. But but but, no you bicyclists go right ahead and get in my way and break the law. Now for those FEW bicyclists and motorists who do the right thing.. this doesn’t apply to you all. And I know of one who enters in events so shout out to my friend Carrie, who does the right thing. Ok… moving on. Moo Goo Gy Pan..

Patience… it’s what’s for dinner.

Alright I feel much better now. Well not really. But I put it out there..

And here are some more thought provoking questions that make my brain hurt. What the heck ever happened to Nelly Furtado? Did she FINALLY become that bird and fly away?

Why did Scrubs stay on a gazillion seasons? Is it safe to say Chuck is the new Scrubs, staying on four seasons too long?

When will the writers of SNL give Keenan Thompson decent skits where he’s actually funny? I mean, imitating Whoopi from The View aside..

and why are we grossed out by fish parts, but yet enjoy eating caviar, which is essentially.. fish eggs.

Talk amongst yerselves. I’m going to drink more egg nog.

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Blogging is Fundamental, and so was Heavy D.

I can remember when I was 11 years old, my parents took me to a pizza place called Shakey’s. I used to sit and watch the aquarium they had in the middle of the place. But when I was 11, the shack decided to install televisions and a machine or jukebox if you will. You put in your money and a video would play on the tvs around the place. I can remember vividly a kid putting in the money and as I watched the fish I heard his voice for the very first time.

Heavy D.

Back then, he was in a group called “Heavy D. and the Boyz.” The song was “Mr. Big Stuff”. I was completely enamored from there on out. He was pretty cool and despite his size very very bouncy and agile. He danced just as much as the dancers in the video. It was pretty awesome to this “big for her age in all meaning of the expression 11 year old.” I was pretty much a fan from that point on. When I received my allowance, I BEGGED my mom to take me to the music store, Waxie Maxie’s (back when they HAD music stores in Maryland), and I purchased a cassette called “Living Large” – the group’s first album. I was overjoyed, mainly because there was no explicit lyrics sticker. Because my folks didn’t let me listen to a lot of rap, much less rap that had that sticker. It was poison to them. So imagine my parents’ surprise when this tape could be played IN FRONT OF THEM. And he was clean.

From jump, I was always a Heavy D fan. I bought his second cassette, Big Tyme, which I believe was his breakout album. The songs, “Somebody for Me,” “We Got our Own Thing,” and “More Bounce”..well hell, the whole damn album was just full of fun songs about love, hanging with friends, and enjoying life. It was a tape I wore out listening to. I was delighted with glee to see him become more popular and even appear on “A Different World”. He and the Boyz came out at a time right before rap changed, and some may say for the worse really. He stayed true to his art and he was still clean cut and very humble, something rappers know nothing about for the most part. There was no turning back for him. He could also slide in some reggae and dancehall with his lyrical delivery. Trust me, he was the man. Absolutely.

Peaceful Journey, his third album, left us with a retrospective and thought provoking Heavy. One of the Boyz, Trouble T Roy, accidentally died due to a fall, and this album was a dedication to him. He questioned life, God, his family, all while throwing in songs that dealt with love and of course his size. He even challenged rappers with the song, “Don’t Curse.” But it was the title track that still, to this day, brings a tear. Using background vocals by Jodeci for the chorus, he rhymed about his dear friend who left way too soon and how he would see him again. If you all don’t know of that song, I absolutely suggest you look it up. It’s a tear jerker. And a nice sample provided by the Jacksons on top made this song a classic standout.There was another hit, “You Can’t See What I Can See” which is one of my FAVORITES of all time of his, brought about a harder edge. It didn’t even make the album.. but it was a hint of what was to come. He sampled Public Enemy and he was essentially mad at rappers who gave HIM flack for not being…well.. mean enough. That was his answer. It was a great answer, indeed.

Blue Funk. I never could understand why people hated this album. I even loved the cover (maybe it was a precursor to my love for design). The beats were harder and any fan could tell his vocal delivery was a bit bitter. But he was still Heavy. Beatwise this was one of my favorites, hands down. “Truthful” “Blue Funk”, and “Who’s the Man?” were my favorites. My guestimation? He was tired of people thinking he wasn’t a hard enough rapper because everyone else had to throw in degrading lyrics to sell albums. He still got his point across without losing any respect from the fans. Still gets played on my ipod.

The pinacle of the success of Heavy came in the album, “Nuthin’ but Love.” God that was a great album. He regrouped and released a bevy of hits. The samples were on point, and he returned to his fun self. His biggest hit, Black Coffee, was a dedication of his love to Black women everywhere. Every song on this album is truly wonderful. I could go on and on with talking about it. But out of alllllllll of his works, this one is a true gem from start to finish. NO FILLER WHATSOEVER.

After that album’s success, of course the group takes a “break” (i.e. Heavy goes solo) and he never quite garnered the same amount of success as he had with the Boyz. In fact his FIRST solo album (with more albums after that) was called Waterbed Heav. I still laugh at that title. Really Heavy? He thought a lot of himself there. But I digress.

Why did I go into a retrospective of Heavy D’s albums? Because he passed away today. I am still saddened by this. He meant a lot to me as a music fan. He was positive, he didn’t disrespect, he pulled his pants up, well spoken, humble, loveable, and had quite the pair of dancing feet. He was proof positive that you didn’t have to change your style to sell albums. And you can be just as popular being yourself  and respecting others unlike many rappers who were just immature. I will miss Heavy D dearly. And if I ever have kids one day, rest assured, they will know who he is, and I hope they love him… as much as their mom (that’d be me) does… and always will.

Thanks Heav.  Nuthin’ but love for you.

“Not fred flinstone, but i’ll make your bed rock.” Goddamn I love this song.

Tightest beat.. EVER.

Dude could dance…

“All I really need and a bag of blue funk…”

 

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Feel free to comment.. here. Not fb.. herrrrre lol. Thanks.

 

“You’re Really Sorta f*cked with the Whole Sibbling Thing..”

This is what I say about Halloween.

I don’t like it. I don’t like getting dressed up in costumes. Never have. Never will. I feel like I’ve always been too old for it truth be told. SO. Instead of talking about costumes, and who showed off the most skin, yada yada yada. I will talk about..

CANDY.

Yes. The one thing that always gets talked about amongst ourselves but seems to be overshadowed by how many people dress up like the Crapdashians.. I mean the Khardashians. Or clowns. Or the scream face. Or Obama. Or whoever. Yes. The candy. I can go on and on about candy and my love for it. And little trinkets of heaven that are wrapped up for us to devour and enjoy and wuv. The best thing about Halloween isn’t dressing up in ridiculous costumes. It’s the SWEETNESS that you get to sort out after walking around in over the top ridiculousness. So I thought I would share with you all my list of golden-y gems that keep my dentist employed and dancing for joy.

1. Reeses Peanut butter cups. Now this comes in a variety of shapes. Depending on the season i can get peanut butter and choco eggs, or pumpkins or trees. This is win win. Although for the most part, we just get little and I DO mean little cups. Because the candy company i would LOVE to invest money in has gone cheapass and reduced the size of peanut butter cups. This hurts me to my core. But I digress. If you score any peanut butter cups, THIS would be the upper echalon of rewards for dressing up.

2. Snickers. Ah yes, – the peanut and chocolate together as one in a unified theme to solve my hunger at 10 in the morning. Much like the butter cups, but with actual peanuts, this is also a winner. The tiny bites that are wrapped are just small enough to cure my choco craving but not so bad that you feel guilty. Well, unless you have like ten. Or you know, twelve. Hey don’t judge ME!!! I need a pick me up in the middle of the afternoon. However the only downfall (really, there are obviously MORE downfalls to eating candy but just humor me for gits and shiggles) is that you bite down on a peanut and a filling might fall out. But other than that, they’re just.. swell. Aaah nirvana.

3. Three Musketeers. Yes yes yes. I call this the old person’s candy. Why? Because it’s just chewy and mushy enough to indulge in without worrying about breaking a denture. Or if you don’t have a lot of teeth at all. You can always count on the Musketeers because there isn’t much there. It could melt in your mouth. And you’d be just as happy and willing to do a spin on the dancefloor with a walker. Who’s with me and Grandma?

4. Candy corn. It’s a staple. When you think of Halloween, you think of candy corn. I would make a comedic descriptive paragraph about it. But really, what is it made of? Besides sugar and food coloring? And how DO they go about getting the stripes so perfect? I’m more amazed by THAT than the taste. Brach’s candy is just absolutely incredible in the evenly striped design.

5. And last but not least, TWIX. Oh man, hello love, thy name is twix. It’s perfect. Just perfect. It’s crunchy, it’s sweet and looks like a log. Even the miniatures.. look like mini logs. Sometimes I pretend I am holding a log and I’m a big giant. I’m sure there is always one who doesn’t like some candy… but c’monnnn who doesn’t like Twix? Don’t even answer. Denied. NEXT!

Yeah, so those are my top 5 favorite pics of Halloween. Forget the songs. Forget the costumes. It’s about the candy.

It’s about the candy.

Just remember to have a toothbrush. Because as much as i LOVE this candy, they seem to have a separation anxiety with my teeth.. preferably the caramel in between my teeth. Sad face. #Fail.

Oh my phone is ringing. Probably my dentist and his spidey sense have detected my devouring of candy and wants to see me.

..the bastard.

 

Xanax and whiskey work well.

I have a difficult time getting out of bed in the morning. I could go on and on as to why I have a hard time, but let’s keep this PG-13 shall we?

Every once and a while, I am FORCED to get up for reasons that are above the usual. The usual being..you know, paycheck, paycheck, paycheck. But every once in a while, I am awakened by a smell. No, it’s not me. But it’s a smell that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I and the blue donkey next to me are forced out from a halfway decent slumber to inhale this odor. I wake up. Stub my toe. Try and figure out what it is. It’s not the donkey either. While loveable, he’s stuffed.

Then I realize.

It’s coming from inside the house.

I am a cleaning fiend. I take the trash out two to 3 times a week. I clean the tub. Everynight. Can you say the same? No I didn’t think so. That being said, to smell this odor is just absolutely beyond a cleaning freak’s spectrum of annoying. I look everywhere. I look here, there yonder. Just when I think I’ve narrowed it down, I haven’t. I think it’s in one area.. then it’s not. Then I think it’s in another area, then it’s not. I am perplexed. And the donkey is just sad. It’s enough to make me drop to my knees and go FUCK THE HEAVENS! Then I look in the kitchen. More specifically, I look in the fridge. Now we all have those foods that stay in the back of the fridge a little TOO long. You know the ones.. that can no longer be scientifically defined as a salad. Or mayo. Or mustard. It happens ok? I work late hours. I don’t even use mustard. I’m more of a ranch user, which never seems to smell because I use it as a condiment on more foods than I can speak of at the present, therefore I run out of it first. But that’s for another time. So I have come to the realization that the smell is coming from the fridge. Then I realize…

It’s me. Versus. The fridge.

Mano y mano.

I am determined to figure out what in blue balls that smell is. It’s not milk. It’s not butter. It’s not cottage cheese (mmmmm.. cottage cheeeeeese). It’s not pasta. It’s not scallops (shout out to Crisfield’s in Silver Spring, MD). It’s not candy. Hmmm,.. I guess that snickers bar that is two years old is still good right? Right.. I am at the mercy of my fridge. I bow to it’s tenacity and it’s determination to drive it’s owner INSANE in trying to figure out what the butt this smell is. I’m tired of bending over in the fridge. Time to sit down and drag out. After about a half an hour.. I find out what it is.

Broccoli.

The top was on it. You KNOW it’s bad when the top on a container will not keep the smell out. I see it. Waaaaay in the corner. On the second shelf. My nemesis. While healthy for you, can also if not devoured immediately cause the smell to rock a foundation. I couldn’t even touch it. I used a set of rubber gloves and removed stink container and I sprinted to the trash bin outside as if I had sperm in a frozen playmate container running to a donor bank. Flo Jo had NOTHING on me that night. I threw the container, and the gloves away.

And the fridge hummed when I came back inside. It was as if it was it returned to it’s harmonious simplicity again. Then again, it would have been in that state already, if it had not have been for my forgetful memory. The lingering smell on the other hand, took a while to get the memo that the owner of the smell was in the trash bin. It took a while to play catch up and disappear to join it.

Take note kids.. eat that broccoli before it takes on a smell even a dog wouldn’t like.

Good night.

 

 

I Save it for the People!!

When I was a teenager, cassettes were my life… they still are in some regard. A good night for this music nerd was to sit and make mixtapes. Lots and lots of mixtapes. I know I’m not the only one who used to do this. So I already know you all who read this (all 3 of you..maybe 5) are nodding your heads in agreement to what I’m saying. There was just a feeling of accomplishment when you could record from the radio that one remix that you saw on the Jukebox Network (or the Box as it was called later), or that one rock song that would change your life forever (for me, it was Losing My Religion by R.E.M. for those who don’t know.). And listening to them the next day on your way to school, or in between classes.. or on a bus coming home.

..Then times changed.

And it became mix cds.. Again, being able to make your OWN mix cds and not having to buy mix cds with those one or two or three songs you have been trying to get off the radio. I mean, there are only so many compilations I can take with Robin S.’s “Show Me Love” – a downfall to buying those mix cds.. with the one or two or three songs you have been dying to have. Yeah, I know. Total contradiction to the previous sentence but you get the gist, twist, and everything else. I loved bringing cds into work and talking about the songs.

Fast forward to now.. I won’t bother to go on and on about the ipod and how cool it is. You know it is. What I have been torn with is Spotify. I like Spotify. I don’t LOVE Spotify. WHY? Because.. it’s a double edged sword. I enjoy the playlists. I’m all about listening to other people’s playlists and such. It’s great in that regard. Then I feel left out because yours truly, music nerd extraordinaire, doesn’t have a lot of playlists. And it’s not from lack of trying. But I can’t really get on the good foot to make a good number of playlists. You know why?

FUCKING LIFE GETS IN THE WAY!

When the bloody ‘ell do people have TIME to put together endless playlists? I mean, I can understand kids and teenagers putting together during the summer. WTF else do they have to do? But man, grown adults? When do we have TIME??? I mean, between work, and traveling, and errands, and kids, and bills, and car problems, and deciding where to eat for lunch, and which movie you want to see, when WHEN does one propose to make more than one list of songs? I don’t get it. And then there’s pressure. Oh the pressure to make great playlists. What song to choose? Can I repeat songs and add them to different lists? OH THE HORROR!! And the fact that my music is on so many different computers. I might have one song in mind, but it’s not on the ‘puter I want and d’oh wouldn’t you know it? I rotated it OUT of my ipod. OH THE AGONYYYYYYYY!!

So while I decide on what to put into my playlists, go listen to spotify. It’s pretty good. Is it great? Naaah, not til I get on the ball and add my stuffings.

Oh and “Show Me Love” will NOT be one..

As you were…

 

…thought it was a Saskatoon grasshopper

Dearest blog readers (all 8 of you..i just wanted the opener to feel grand, and no not the biscuit by pilsbury),

I am a good person, let me stress this for the record. I do good things for others. I’m a good listener, I do good errands, Good hugging. I love hugs.  I am good. I am rare. People like myself are a commodity so hold onto us mmmkay? So what I’m about to say.. might go against my good nature, but I am so sure you all know how I feel. When I’m in downtown DC, in the heart of the city.. I really truly am tired.. sick.. and tired.. of..

People.

Begging.

Me.

For.

Money.

NOW. Before I get damned to hell for this hear me out here. I do give to charities. I help my fellow man and woman. I tip well. I give to people on the corner.. the squatters. But there comes a point especially as of late where… I just want to scream STOP ASKING MEEEEEE. I feel like responding GOD WHY WON’T YOU ALL GIVE MEEEEEEE MONEY. Now it’s a slippery slope. And I’m not trying to sound like a complete jerk. But where do you draw the line exactly? If you give a couple of times, people will think they can think you are obligated to give. If you don’t do it at all, you’re absolutely positively seen as a complete jerk. It’s just frustrating. I am torn on a daily basis between ignoring and just giving in. But nooo more!! I am from here on out done. You know when the breaking point occurs? When you give money, and you don’t hear a “thank you.” How hard is it to say thank you? You bug me every freaking day for money and I do give and then bam.. NOTHING. There comes a time where I will put my foot down and walk. And yes rugrats, I’m talking to you..yes.. the ones with the crates full of overpriced candy that’s not even good. I don’t want to contribute to your bogus charity. You’re not fooling anyone. And if you do, then say thank you. It’s just incredibly frustrating as a human being who tries to do good things for people.

Ok, I will take my ticket to hell now. One way ticket. I get it.

One little tick that I can’t stand occurs when random strangers rope me into a story, presumably because I’m good *see previous paragraph rant* and.. they grab my arm when they want to tell me something. And chances are, it’s not THAT exciting.. they just want to make sure I don’t run away… And it’s always the person you DON’T want to speak to who grabs your arm. And I don’t mean a gentle touch. I mean a yank. There is nothing THAT important that you need to yank one’s arm off in a sense of immediacy. Just calm down, compose yourself and then recite whatever you want to say. Hands off or you will draw back a nub. I mean, do I walk around with a sign above my head that says, “you Adrienne, it’s this one?” Apparently I did have a sign a few days ago when a bird pooped on my head.. Yes. On my head. I almost cried. Not from the pooping, which under any other circumstance would infuriate me, but from the fact that again, I’m having difficulty catching a break. And I’m glad I realized what happened.. or else you know that scene from There’s Sumfin’ About Mary? The one with the “hair mousse” that wasn’t really mousse? Yeah almost had one of THOSE situations. Yeah, bad huh? That wouldn’t have garnered a sign. The poop is the sign. And no I don’t believe it happened because of the money asking.. because I do give. Or I DID give..

But I digress. And for those keeping track, I got the stuff out, but it still..traumatized me. I was truly not “winning” that day.

To continue on with the stranger yanking.. when they don’t yank your arm, they slap you on the shoulder. Seriously? You grab my arm for emphasis and then you slap me on the shoulder? Do you know you are dangerously close to being hospitalized? Do you? This is what I’m saying in my head. There is a line you do not cross. If you MUST feel the need to bring me into whatever conversation your voices are directing you to discuss, then fine. But to grab my arm and or slap my shoulder as your way of trying to get me to agree with you? You picked the WRONG woman. Submitted for your approval (yes the quality isn’t the best, but i’m really driving the point home here):

Keep watching..

Yes. If you try your damndest to grab me in any way, shape, or form to prove a point I will kick you strangers. You have been forewarned. And if you think I won’t hit Punky Brewster back because she’s..well.. Punky Brewster, you have another thing comin’.. You yank my arm or hit my shoulder – and I don’t know you, well, I’m an equal opportunity puncher.

Don’t. This will be your only warning. If you doubt me, just watch that clip again.

Ok. tell me I’m a bad person. I’m ready for it.

Dexter take me away!

 

Making Dreams Happen..

A few things to get off my chest, but not quite enough to not make me my life long ambition to be the best Eeyore possible…

Movies and television.

I have wasted a good chunk of my life on these mediums of entertainment for a variety of reasons; 1. I was and still am an only kid and there weren’t a lot of children in my area. So I would entertain myself with my mind. When my mind got tired, I turned to television and movies as do most children of that age. And 2. I could relate to every imaginary character on television because somewhere deep down I was the outcast, the funny one, the clutz, the nerd, the one that makes the funny faces and enjoys playing with imaginary friends all wrapped up into a spy who wants to save the world with my shoe phone and break out of jail and rescue people. Sounds pretty believable right? Right. Ok. That being said, I think I have a pretty good inclination as to what works in television and movies, and what does NOT work, and what is just plain old and tired. So you know where I’m going with this right? Right?

For once, just ONCE I’d like to see a television show where the people turn off their lights when they leave their homes… I can’t even IMAGINE the price of their electric bill.

For once, just ONCE, I’d like to see when the good guys shoot the bad guys, that they get them on the first go around. It puzzles me that all that ammunition, and it takes like 20 minutes for them to catch the crooks. I mean, are they blind? Do they NOT see? Are the scopes on their righteous man riffles just cloudy from all the dust that is rallied up from chasing them?

For once, just ONCE, I’d like to see a show or a movie where the child respects the parent, and is not a smart ass. If I said HALF the things that brats on tv say over the years..well.. I wouldn’t be here. And if the child on tv or in movies get out of line, the parent acts accordingly, and ACTS LIKE A PARENT instead of huddling in a corner without any balls and let the kid run ALL of them. It can be done. Grow a pair tv/movie parents, grow a pair.

For once, just ONCE, I’d like to see friends actually LISTEN to their friends when they ask their advice, instead of just doing the exact OPPOSITE of what is advised. Oh wait, that’s also in real life too. Well they’re interchangeable. Moo goo. Gy. Pan.

For once, just ONCE…. I’d like.. and allow me to bring up race for a minute. For ONCE I’d like Tyler Perry to direct, write, produce, superman that he is, a move where Black people aren’t “actin’ a fool” or are in relationships that are so damn doomed that it resorts to a wife hauling ass and waving a golf club at the men around her. While I know that not EVERY relationship with Black people is in jeopardy, it seems as of late we’re not really reflected well in that department, amongst other departments which I KNOW you all of every race know all too well so I won’t even go into it. And tv and television aren’t the only mediums I’m thinking about. We’re not all like that Tyler, come on now. It’s either one or two of those situations.. With the exception of The House that Preys. Actually, no, no golf clubs there.. just infidelity left and right. Yeah Fail Tyler. Fail.

For once, just ONCE, I’d like for fat people to just be the people you know.. not the best friend next door who dispenses advice and always smiles. That has got to be the biggest cop outs in television history. Letmetellya we don’t know everything, we don’t your coffee and we WON’T ALWAYS SMILE dammit. And trust me I do not personally want to walk in kitchen door into the home of anyone I know just on a whim. Ok now that I’ve thought about it, I personally will always want your coffee. Always. But I won’t crack a smile about it. On the inside, I’ll be giddy as a school girl that I’m drinking liquid gold but shhhhhh. Don’t say anything.

For once.. just ONCE, I’d like for grandparents in tv shows and movies to just..be people who want the best for their families. Not the people who insist on marrying everyone off and ask the dreaded question “Oh Nicky, when are you gonna settle down?” I like my grandparents mean, far away, drunk, and sittin’ in their chairs in the corners with their dentures soaking.

And that is what I have found to be most frustrating with these mediums, filmed at 11.

Back to you Chris!

 

Come on people, move closer.. we flew for 40 freaking hours to see you.

There are a few things in going on a road trip one must have.

An Ipod. Duh..

An ipod converter. Duh two time..

A working A/C..

A mask. Whuuut?

And coffee.

And patience.

And prayer.

And fingers crossed, which makes quite the challenge to handle a steering wheel letmetellya.

One of these things is not like the other kids.. can you guess which?

Oh yes. The mask. Let me ‘splain. For certain road trips, you know you’re in country time (not the lemonade) USA. You know that there is a point where you will be surrounded by nothing by vast lands of corn, veggies, tractors, bambis, a few thumpers, squirrels, and meat and fruit markets. Now what might seem as beeeeeautiful to some of you and it is on some levels a pretty sight, might not be so beautiful once you smell said areas. Even with the windows up, there is an overwhelming stench in some of the fields that you cannot escape even if you drive an Indy car. The lands wreak. You think for a sec, is that me? Do I SMELL? But no, it’s not you.. well it might be if you didn’t shower, but that’s beside the point. No my friends and chilluns, it is the field. So you must protect your snout. And your state of mind. And cover them up while driving through Country Time. You can thank me later. The expression this too shall pass comes to mind, but only because the smell has definitely been passed by every animal I see.

There is something scary about driving past field after field with no person in sight, equipped with overwhelming smells. Especially when you are driving by yourself, at night, coffee in tow, and Michael Jackson’s Thriller comes on the pod as a result of a random shuffle. You don’t see anyone.. NO ONE. I mean.. not even a zombie. It’s a little daunting. And off putting. And very.. Night of the Living Dead. You’d THINK that you have a chance to be around peace and tranquility and all of that crap. But NO. You are praying for dear life that the zombies are not hiding in the field. And they are not ready to pounce on you and kill you and leave you for dead amongst all the cow poop. *So THAT’S what that smell is!!* And then you pull a Jay Z and put the pedal to the floor, only to realize that it’s impossible to run away from. Accept your fate, that zombies will come and devour you and drive like a normal person…even at 2 in the morning. Even the trees – the same beautiful trees you love when you drive in the day – pretty, full trees -  look like they can swallow you whole by the way they are leaning in the dark. That is some scary shit. I don’t care what ANYONE says. I feel as though when I finally drive through the night of the living dead fields, I feel like saying a few Hail Marys and making whoever is up there a promise to eat all my veggies and go to church often if I survive the drive, scared to death. But yet somehow I know good and well that I have no intention of keeping those promises. Even the headlights that are hundreds and hundreds of feet behind me that I DON’T worry about start to creep up behind me while I’m driving. I start to think, “OMG. This person is following me. I’m gonna die in the middle of nowhere and again, dumped where the horse poop is in the middle of the field.. Tell my mommy I loved her and it’s been a great ride on the earth. Well. not so great a lot of the times.. but. OH NOOOO THE LIGHTS ARE BLINDING ME…” Only for the car behind me to turn at one of the FEW intersections I approach.. Whew. Take THAT zombieland. I ain’t scurrred.

Until I drive towards a bridge.

Now. Let me state. For the record. Bridges suck. Almost as much as airplane seats. Almost as much as uncomfortable movie theater seats. Bridges are horrible. They are too high up. They are menacing in looks as if to scare the cars away. I don’t understand why when the world or state was created more land wasn’t just built to avoid having to drive over water. It’s ridiculous. And I am a ridiculous scaredy cat. I will admit. So that being said, let’s fast forward to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge in Maryland. This is a monstrasity of a fustercluck. It is like going on a rollercoaster (and wouldn’t you guess it, I’m scurrrred of those too). You go straight up. And no, not a ramp..your ass goes UP. UP. And away. You are soooooo high up, you don’t even see water.. You see the sky. You see heaven. Yes kids. I saw heaven. It is wonderful, however, I don’t care to see heaven while I’m in a 9 year old car that I’m praying will make it safely over the river and through the woods. It is just absolutely unnatural to have to be so high to go from point A to point B. When you start to see clouds and no water, I immediately think, Hello. God? It’s me.. J-Bird. And then finally you go straight DOWN… what amazes me is that you can go on that fucker for 50 miles an hour. Really? why don’t you just have an ambulance set up at the ends of the bridge that way you don’t have to travel far bc you KNOW people are going at least 70 except yours truly. I go 48 and in the middle lane. Yeah call me an old fogie allllll you want. But I’m in no rush to be that high up. It is at this moment where Enter Sandman is now playing on the pod. I don’t think it is good to hear “Off to never never land” while I’m trying to cross a ridiculously high terror to point B.

“The Lord is my shepherd…”

I WOULD get that tattooed but the Lord and I aren’t on speaking terms. I did recite it for good measure though.

Bridges. Hate them. Like a fat kid hates green beans.. And I despise green beans.

This has been another tasty treat from yours truly. Milk does a body good. Reading is fundamental. Bridges are the devil in hiding. In that order.