As a stay at home parent in a downtrodden economy I'd like to say, on behalf of all broke people everywhere, Elmo, Big Bird and any of those other people at Sesame Street Live can kiss my ass! $90 for floor seats? Not total, but $90 each! Really? Talk about forgetting where the hell you came from. Didn't you muppets start on PBS akaPublic Broadcasting Service?As far as I'm concerned, every building on Sesame Street is public housing aka the projects. How dare you project dwelling bastards ask me for $90 when I've given so much to keep the lights running on Sesame Street. I bet if Mitt Romney had won you would've been humble and come up here with some sensible prices.
For $90 my daughter deserves more than just a folding chair down on the floor. She deserves to ride into the arena on a snuffalupolous' back and then sit in an arm chair stuffed with 100% Big Bird down feathers. She better get a free autographed program and the last page better have a map that tells me how to get...how to get to Sesame Street.
Since that's not what we're gonna get, we're not going. I refuse to pay you that much for floor seats and anything cheaper will probably require us to look up at the screen to know what's going on. If I wanted to watch Sesame Street on a screen I'd stay home and do it for free.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
Children's Story
Once upon time not long ago,
I was riding the 90 bus home. For you home-gamers playing from out of town, the 90 bus goes to Anacostia, which would be the part of Mufasa's kingdom where the light doesn't touch and therefore Simba mustn't go. During rush hour the conditions on that bus mirror the Middle Passage. It used to be so packed that people used to sit underneath the seats.
So anyway, there I was riding in bondage on my way to the forgotten world. I was sitting in the back because, at that age, the concept of Rosa Parks was still lost on me when this dude in a puffy coat got on. His man in the back whistled or cooed or clucked...I don't know what word describes the hood noise that people make to get someone's attention, but you know what I'm talking about. After he finished arguing with the bus driver about his transfer he made his way to the back. Now this was back when DC buses still gave out transfers and people used to A) hand them out the window to a friend waiting to get on or B) paste/tape/hold real tight two transfers together to make it look like it was valid.
So anyway, the dude got on and then somehow squeezed his way through all those people to get to the back where his friend was standing. Normally people would curse you out for doing that, but let's just say that this dude had the kinda face that opened doors (and pockets and wallets) that would otherwise be closed to the average person. It was a look that you were just too afraid to say no to. He made his way to the back and they started talking real loud about some ignorant deed that happened a couple of days before. To write it verbatim is too much for even my potty mouth, so let's just say that they were chilling out, maxin, relaxing all cool while shooting some b-ball outside of the school when a couple of guys who were up to no good started makin trouble in their neighborhood.
So about two stops later, what happens? A guy gets on and what do these two dudes say? "Oh shit, that's that nigga right there!" Now everybody in the back of the bus already heard what they were gonna do if they ever ran into the dudes again, so when we all discover that one of them is on the bus alone, our hearts immediately go out to him. None of us are gonna say anything, as a matter of fact if the police are asking I don't even remember being on a bus that day. For all I can remember, it was black history month and I was trying to honor Dr. King by walking across the 11th Street Bridge.
The survivalist and military strategist in me starts thinking, "Please take your ignorant shit up off this bus. Please don't let that dude look or come back here." What happens? Dude looks toward the back to see if there's any space because all black people are magically drawn to the back of the bus. He doesn't see Thing 1 and Thing 2 in the back so he forces his way to the back. Then he sees them. They exchange glances at first while me and this older black lady sitting across from me do the same thing. She hangs her head as if to say "Here we go."
Thing 1 says "What the fuck you looking at?"
Thing 2 adds, "Bitch ass nigga."
New guy says, "What, nigga? Come say that shit in my face."
Thing 1: You a bitch. I'll fuck your ass up.
New guy: Step off this bus motherfucker. Let's see if you talk all that shit then.
Me (internally): Yeah step off this bus.
At this point I'm working on an exit strategy. The bus was in motion and again, for the out of towners, bus drivers stay out of conflict. Unless you're messing with them, they don't see nothing. So my plan was to keep these three separated using only the power of my mind. As long as there were about five people between them, I had a 70% chance of all five of them getting shot before I did.
Then the big dude sitting next to me rang the bell, got up and got off.
Me (internally): Bitch ass nigga. You were my backup body shield. Fuck!
Old lady sitting across from me (speaking to me telepathically): Bitch ass nigga. He was gonna be MY body shield.
Thing 2: We aint gotta step off the bus, nigga! Aint nothing but space and opportunity.
Me (internally): There's a lot more space off the bus.
So now my plan has shifted to pulling that little red lever on the window and jumping out, but only if they start shooting. I'm preparing myself mentally to tuck and roll on the way down. I figure there are enough empty packs of Newport and Chicken Wing styrofoam trays on any southeast street to cushion my fall.
New guy says, "Fuck it then. Let's go. What you wanna do. I'll light this whole motherfucking bus up!"
Thing 2 reaches into his puffy coat and says "You aint the only one nigga."
The bus driver is now looking up in the mirror and I see his hand motioning toward the thing that opens the door which tells me that he's planning to jump out himself. The old lady holds her bag up as if it's made out of Kevlar.
New guy starts walking to the back with his hand in his coat
Thing 2 walks toward new guy
I realize that the fucking lever is broke on the window and then
These two niggas pull their hands out of their coats, give each other dap and start laughing. One of them looks around the bus and says, "Yall were scared like shit weren't yall. You see ya man get up and get off the bus and shit." I'm thinking to myself, "Fuck yall!" Then one of them says, "Yall just as bad as them white folks. Just because two niggas start beefing you assume they gonna light the bus up and shit." (Yeah, right. Racial profiling.)
So the old lady promptly starts cursing them out and they explain that they're in some drama program and do this just to mess with people on the bus. "Yo let's hop on the 92!" They get off and I guess they go do the same ignorant shit on the 92.
I was riding the 90 bus home. For you home-gamers playing from out of town, the 90 bus goes to Anacostia, which would be the part of Mufasa's kingdom where the light doesn't touch and therefore Simba mustn't go. During rush hour the conditions on that bus mirror the Middle Passage. It used to be so packed that people used to sit underneath the seats.
So anyway, there I was riding in bondage on my way to the forgotten world. I was sitting in the back because, at that age, the concept of Rosa Parks was still lost on me when this dude in a puffy coat got on. His man in the back whistled or cooed or clucked...I don't know what word describes the hood noise that people make to get someone's attention, but you know what I'm talking about. After he finished arguing with the bus driver about his transfer he made his way to the back. Now this was back when DC buses still gave out transfers and people used to A) hand them out the window to a friend waiting to get on or B) paste/tape/hold real tight two transfers together to make it look like it was valid.
So anyway, the dude got on and then somehow squeezed his way through all those people to get to the back where his friend was standing. Normally people would curse you out for doing that, but let's just say that this dude had the kinda face that opened doors (and pockets and wallets) that would otherwise be closed to the average person. It was a look that you were just too afraid to say no to. He made his way to the back and they started talking real loud about some ignorant deed that happened a couple of days before. To write it verbatim is too much for even my potty mouth, so let's just say that they were chilling out, maxin, relaxing all cool while shooting some b-ball outside of the school when a couple of guys who were up to no good started makin trouble in their neighborhood.
So about two stops later, what happens? A guy gets on and what do these two dudes say? "Oh shit, that's that nigga right there!" Now everybody in the back of the bus already heard what they were gonna do if they ever ran into the dudes again, so when we all discover that one of them is on the bus alone, our hearts immediately go out to him. None of us are gonna say anything, as a matter of fact if the police are asking I don't even remember being on a bus that day. For all I can remember, it was black history month and I was trying to honor Dr. King by walking across the 11th Street Bridge.
The survivalist and military strategist in me starts thinking, "Please take your ignorant shit up off this bus. Please don't let that dude look or come back here." What happens? Dude looks toward the back to see if there's any space because all black people are magically drawn to the back of the bus. He doesn't see Thing 1 and Thing 2 in the back so he forces his way to the back. Then he sees them. They exchange glances at first while me and this older black lady sitting across from me do the same thing. She hangs her head as if to say "Here we go."
Thing 1 says "What the fuck you looking at?"
Thing 2 adds, "Bitch ass nigga."
New guy says, "What, nigga? Come say that shit in my face."
Thing 1: You a bitch. I'll fuck your ass up.
New guy: Step off this bus motherfucker. Let's see if you talk all that shit then.
Me (internally): Yeah step off this bus.
At this point I'm working on an exit strategy. The bus was in motion and again, for the out of towners, bus drivers stay out of conflict. Unless you're messing with them, they don't see nothing. So my plan was to keep these three separated using only the power of my mind. As long as there were about five people between them, I had a 70% chance of all five of them getting shot before I did.
Then the big dude sitting next to me rang the bell, got up and got off.
Me (internally): Bitch ass nigga. You were my backup body shield. Fuck!
Old lady sitting across from me (speaking to me telepathically): Bitch ass nigga. He was gonna be MY body shield.
Thing 2: We aint gotta step off the bus, nigga! Aint nothing but space and opportunity.
Me (internally): There's a lot more space off the bus.
So now my plan has shifted to pulling that little red lever on the window and jumping out, but only if they start shooting. I'm preparing myself mentally to tuck and roll on the way down. I figure there are enough empty packs of Newport and Chicken Wing styrofoam trays on any southeast street to cushion my fall.
New guy says, "Fuck it then. Let's go. What you wanna do. I'll light this whole motherfucking bus up!"
Thing 2 reaches into his puffy coat and says "You aint the only one nigga."
The bus driver is now looking up in the mirror and I see his hand motioning toward the thing that opens the door which tells me that he's planning to jump out himself. The old lady holds her bag up as if it's made out of Kevlar.
New guy starts walking to the back with his hand in his coat
Thing 2 walks toward new guy
I realize that the fucking lever is broke on the window and then
These two niggas pull their hands out of their coats, give each other dap and start laughing. One of them looks around the bus and says, "Yall were scared like shit weren't yall. You see ya man get up and get off the bus and shit." I'm thinking to myself, "Fuck yall!" Then one of them says, "Yall just as bad as them white folks. Just because two niggas start beefing you assume they gonna light the bus up and shit." (Yeah, right. Racial profiling.)
So the old lady promptly starts cursing them out and they explain that they're in some drama program and do this just to mess with people on the bus. "Yo let's hop on the 92!" They get off and I guess they go do the same ignorant shit on the 92.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
And So Begins the Obamery!
So here's the deal: The election is over, Obama won and now begins the winter of my discontent. The Inauguration is coming. As a person who already despises eight out of ten tourists in "my" city, the Inauguration is like the apocalypse to me. Hundreds of thousands of people will descend upon my town and with them comes more traffic jams and even more people Cupid Shuffling across the street.
Worse than that is witnessing what happens when the hustler's ambition hits some of these bammas around here (Yeah I said bammas. I'm feeling DC-ish today). Don't get me wrong, I love a good hustle. Personally, I plan to rent out every cubic inch of my apartment to any out of towner with the right price. I'll staple people to the ceiling if I have to. But what I saw four years ago was just sad. I call it Obamery. Words fail to describe it, so I compiled a brief slideshow.
[slideshow]
Worse than that is witnessing what happens when the hustler's ambition hits some of these bammas around here (Yeah I said bammas. I'm feeling DC-ish today). Don't get me wrong, I love a good hustle. Personally, I plan to rent out every cubic inch of my apartment to any out of towner with the right price. I'll staple people to the ceiling if I have to. But what I saw four years ago was just sad. I call it Obamery. Words fail to describe it, so I compiled a brief slideshow.
[slideshow]
The Winner and Still Champion
I haven't had so many black people exchange 'knowing' glances at me in...well, in four years. I got up early this morning coughing and sick (but still handsome as hell) and went out to the newspaper machine to get a special edition "Obama Beat Mitt Romney's Ass" newspaper. I was greeted by two things.
Thing 1: Newspapers really cost a dollar now? Damn. No wonder they're going out of business.
Thing 2: A black dude at the bus stop looked over at me and said, "Congrats, Congrats!"
That's become the ceremonial greeting between people of the darker persuasion every time a black president gets elected. Suffice to say, twice. I honestly didn't think he'd pull it off. When the healthcare debate was going on I thought to myself, "Well, it was nice while it lasted." He pissed off so many people with that one--he actually pissed off so many people just by showing up the first day--that I figured he was going the route of Jimmy Carter. I sat in the house pissed all night watching the electoral college votes come in one after the other for Romney.
Now if there's one thing that I'll say about the Republicans it's that they're great motivational speakers. Just the mere possibility that they were going to win the presidency and the House made me think that I needed to go back to college to be all I can be. I was thinking about grad school, medical school, clown college, and anywhere else that could help me. The message from some of them is loud and clear: You're on your own.
I started looking for apartments away from coastal and major cities. Once we go to war with the other continents, it'll help to be near a mountainous region. To be fair, the polar bears won't pose much of a threat once global warming melts half of Antarctica down. But then I started flipping channels to see who actually had the correct count. CNN seemed hell bent on being last to the party. They were still tallying votes for John McCain when I switched to the glib folks at CNBC. I watch them daily for stock results, but hate their politics. When I saw a glimmer of despair in Maria Bartiromo's eyes I knew that there might be something there. One more station down was Fox News and the flushed red cheeks of one of their talking heads told me all that I needed to know. He did it.
Barack "Don't Call It A Comeback" Obama did it. Relief isn't even the word. I don't expect any more of a miracle than I did last time, but at least I feel like the person in charge cares. As I've been saying all along, there are three branches of government. I'm just happy to know that one branch that's controlled by one man is at least staffed with someone who knows what it's like to be in my shoes. Everything I've written about from being broke to being too dark for some and too light for others to wanting to strike a balance between where I've been and where I can go...I feel like he's been through all of that. So, no I'm not gonna run around singing that "My President Is Black" song, because I think it's just another divisive form of expression. Instead, I'll say this...my president believes in what I believe in. That doesn't happen too often.
Thing 1: Newspapers really cost a dollar now? Damn. No wonder they're going out of business.
Thing 2: A black dude at the bus stop looked over at me and said, "Congrats, Congrats!"
That's become the ceremonial greeting between people of the darker persuasion every time a black president gets elected. Suffice to say, twice. I honestly didn't think he'd pull it off. When the healthcare debate was going on I thought to myself, "Well, it was nice while it lasted." He pissed off so many people with that one--he actually pissed off so many people just by showing up the first day--that I figured he was going the route of Jimmy Carter. I sat in the house pissed all night watching the electoral college votes come in one after the other for Romney.
Now if there's one thing that I'll say about the Republicans it's that they're great motivational speakers. Just the mere possibility that they were going to win the presidency and the House made me think that I needed to go back to college to be all I can be. I was thinking about grad school, medical school, clown college, and anywhere else that could help me. The message from some of them is loud and clear: You're on your own.
I started looking for apartments away from coastal and major cities. Once we go to war with the other continents, it'll help to be near a mountainous region. To be fair, the polar bears won't pose much of a threat once global warming melts half of Antarctica down. But then I started flipping channels to see who actually had the correct count. CNN seemed hell bent on being last to the party. They were still tallying votes for John McCain when I switched to the glib folks at CNBC. I watch them daily for stock results, but hate their politics. When I saw a glimmer of despair in Maria Bartiromo's eyes I knew that there might be something there. One more station down was Fox News and the flushed red cheeks of one of their talking heads told me all that I needed to know. He did it.
Barack "Don't Call It A Comeback" Obama did it. Relief isn't even the word. I don't expect any more of a miracle than I did last time, but at least I feel like the person in charge cares. As I've been saying all along, there are three branches of government. I'm just happy to know that one branch that's controlled by one man is at least staffed with someone who knows what it's like to be in my shoes. Everything I've written about from being broke to being too dark for some and too light for others to wanting to strike a balance between where I've been and where I can go...I feel like he's been through all of that. So, no I'm not gonna run around singing that "My President Is Black" song, because I think it's just another divisive form of expression. Instead, I'll say this...my president believes in what I believe in. That doesn't happen too often.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Uncle Tom?
I just got back from the polls. Now that I'm 30 I figured I'd be a grown-up and not write my name in for one of the ancillary positions. I still can't believe I didn't win for sheriff a few years back. Anyway, I was standing there in line at Murch Elementary when I realized that I was one of maybe four black people in a crowd of a few hundred. I started to take a picture and update my Facebook status to this:
Reason # 348 why you shouldn't but into the diatribe that white people are evil...they helped elect Obama last time.
DC has been a democratic vote forever. The rich white folks who live in my neighborhood proudly display their Obama paraphernalia in their yards and this morning I saw a sea of Obama hats and bumper stickers. So it kinda pisses me off when I hear people talk like white people only vote Republican and that having a "black" president somehow saves us from imperial rule. First, I like to remind people that Obama is mixed, grew up with his white mom and although he may just look "light skinned," I'm sure that he has love for both sides of his heritage. Second, white people are not the devil.
I don't know why it bothers me so much when I hear black people talk about how white people are out to get them. It started when I was little. When I was little my next door neighbors were white. They had way nicer things than we did, which led five-year-old-me to believe that all white people were rich. They invited me into their house with open arms and I ate dinner with them some nights and watched movies with their family. So one day during Black History Month one of my teachers makes a remark that white people don't like black people. I disagreed with her and she made me stay after class to "talk some sense into me."
She told me that white people shouldn't be trusted and that even if the white people next door to me or the white people at my mother's job were nice to me that it was only because they looked down on me and took pride in being nice to a "nigger." A few days later I had another incident where a different teacher made fun of the only white kid in school and said that his parents must be poor if they couldn't afford to send him to a school with his people.
Now throughout all of this my family was broke as hell and I got the full "inner city black youth" experience. Still, I couldn't understand how white people could be so bad. A few years later I went to college where I read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. That put me on this road to Black Pantherism and by the end of freshman year I'd read every speech, essay or book that I could find by anyone who lived through the civil rights movement. I became this dude:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFY2kJ96jNY
Now a funny thing happens when you become afrocentric all of a sudden on the campus of an HBCU. It rarely lasts. I emerged from the library like the character in the Allegory of the Cave. I was ready to lift every voice and sing, march on Washington, and keep our eyes on the prize. Then some girl that I barely knew came by my dorm and invited me to run a train on her with some dudes down the hall. (Um...no) A teacher told me that I was stupid for not cheating on the test with the rest of the class. We had an all-hands meeting in the dorm to discuss the double-digit rapes on campus and the disturbing fact that they had to discard 60% of the blood from the blood drive due to STDs. It was an interesting week.
I wasn't discouraged though. I knew that I was just being tested to see if my convictions were genuine. They were not. After a week back in DC during Winter Break, I decided that not only was the revolution not gonna be televised, it wasn't gonna be starring me. Being in NC had caused a mild form of amnesia. Being shot at and chased down MLK Ave near Anacostia station by some dudes in a car over mistaken identity woke me back up from that amnesia and hammered the final nail in my Black Power coffin.
I'm not saying that all black people are bad just like I'm not saying all white people are good. I'm just saying that I hate blanket statements especially when it comes to race. And I really hate hypocrites who complain about how this country needs to end racism about two sentences before they say something about how white people do this and white people do that. If that makes me an Uncle Tom, then so be it, but to this day I haven't been robbed, chased or jumped by white people. Black people did that...or did they?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3PJF0YE-x4
Reason # 348 why you shouldn't but into the diatribe that white people are evil...they helped elect Obama last time.
DC has been a democratic vote forever. The rich white folks who live in my neighborhood proudly display their Obama paraphernalia in their yards and this morning I saw a sea of Obama hats and bumper stickers. So it kinda pisses me off when I hear people talk like white people only vote Republican and that having a "black" president somehow saves us from imperial rule. First, I like to remind people that Obama is mixed, grew up with his white mom and although he may just look "light skinned," I'm sure that he has love for both sides of his heritage. Second, white people are not the devil.
I don't know why it bothers me so much when I hear black people talk about how white people are out to get them. It started when I was little. When I was little my next door neighbors were white. They had way nicer things than we did, which led five-year-old-me to believe that all white people were rich. They invited me into their house with open arms and I ate dinner with them some nights and watched movies with their family. So one day during Black History Month one of my teachers makes a remark that white people don't like black people. I disagreed with her and she made me stay after class to "talk some sense into me."
She told me that white people shouldn't be trusted and that even if the white people next door to me or the white people at my mother's job were nice to me that it was only because they looked down on me and took pride in being nice to a "nigger." A few days later I had another incident where a different teacher made fun of the only white kid in school and said that his parents must be poor if they couldn't afford to send him to a school with his people.
Now throughout all of this my family was broke as hell and I got the full "inner city black youth" experience. Still, I couldn't understand how white people could be so bad. A few years later I went to college where I read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. That put me on this road to Black Pantherism and by the end of freshman year I'd read every speech, essay or book that I could find by anyone who lived through the civil rights movement. I became this dude:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFY2kJ96jNY
Now a funny thing happens when you become afrocentric all of a sudden on the campus of an HBCU. It rarely lasts. I emerged from the library like the character in the Allegory of the Cave. I was ready to lift every voice and sing, march on Washington, and keep our eyes on the prize. Then some girl that I barely knew came by my dorm and invited me to run a train on her with some dudes down the hall. (Um...no) A teacher told me that I was stupid for not cheating on the test with the rest of the class. We had an all-hands meeting in the dorm to discuss the double-digit rapes on campus and the disturbing fact that they had to discard 60% of the blood from the blood drive due to STDs. It was an interesting week.
I wasn't discouraged though. I knew that I was just being tested to see if my convictions were genuine. They were not. After a week back in DC during Winter Break, I decided that not only was the revolution not gonna be televised, it wasn't gonna be starring me. Being in NC had caused a mild form of amnesia. Being shot at and chased down MLK Ave near Anacostia station by some dudes in a car over mistaken identity woke me back up from that amnesia and hammered the final nail in my Black Power coffin.
I'm not saying that all black people are bad just like I'm not saying all white people are good. I'm just saying that I hate blanket statements especially when it comes to race. And I really hate hypocrites who complain about how this country needs to end racism about two sentences before they say something about how white people do this and white people do that. If that makes me an Uncle Tom, then so be it, but to this day I haven't been robbed, chased or jumped by white people. Black people did that...or did they?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3PJF0YE-x4
Monday, November 5, 2012
I'm MIA
To the seven people who visited today (11/5/12) and the 14 who visited yesterday,
I have not forgotten you or abandoned the site. The wife is sick. The child is sick. I am sick. I blame it on my nephew. He's one and a half and if you think my daughter is a gremlin you really need to spend some time with him. It's like he took pride in his role as an Outbreak monkey. He walked around my mother's house coughing in everyone's face and blowing his nose into his hand and then slapping people. I gotta hand it to him...biological warfare is new in the hood. He adapted to it so well.
Anyway, I feel like shit but unlike some people I can't call out sick from my job. My employer shows up at the side of the bed every morning at 6:45 making demands.
"Banana? Banana?"
"I'm sleep. Go back in your bed!"
"Banana? Okay, let's get banana."
"No!"
"Potty, potty?"
(Dammit.) "Okay, let's go to the bathroom."
*And as soon as we get in the bathroom and the last drop has landed in the toilet*
"Okay, let's get banana!"
So here I am, functioning on whatever bit of energy that one serving of Cheerios gave me this morning. Not only do I not feel like going to the grocery store, but I have to dress and take the mogwai with me because her owner is in a Nyquil coma.
And since I'm ranting...
I'll be so glad when this election is over. Part of my headache stems from everyone becoming a political activist all of a sudden on Facebook. Name five people on the DC council! If you don't live in DC then name your state senators. If you can do that then you have my respect, otherwise you're just annoying.
There are three branches of government. Two of them are electable. If Romney wins, slavery will not be reinstated. If Obama wins, your beauty school dropout ass will still be unemployed. Leave me alone.
That was mean. I'm sorry. I get cranky when I'm sick...and I have a two year old who is hell bent on skydiving off the top of the couch. It's like, you work so hard to keep someone alive when they obviously have a different vision of their future. Anyway, I'm just tangenting because I haven't blogged in a while.
If I can dope up on enough cold medicine then you can look forward to tomorrow's blog entitled "Am I An Uncle Tom?" Inquiring minds would like to know.
I have not forgotten you or abandoned the site. The wife is sick. The child is sick. I am sick. I blame it on my nephew. He's one and a half and if you think my daughter is a gremlin you really need to spend some time with him. It's like he took pride in his role as an Outbreak monkey. He walked around my mother's house coughing in everyone's face and blowing his nose into his hand and then slapping people. I gotta hand it to him...biological warfare is new in the hood. He adapted to it so well.
Anyway, I feel like shit but unlike some people I can't call out sick from my job. My employer shows up at the side of the bed every morning at 6:45 making demands.
"Banana? Banana?"
"I'm sleep. Go back in your bed!"
"Banana? Okay, let's get banana."
"No!"
"Potty, potty?"
(Dammit.) "Okay, let's go to the bathroom."
*And as soon as we get in the bathroom and the last drop has landed in the toilet*
"Okay, let's get banana!"
So here I am, functioning on whatever bit of energy that one serving of Cheerios gave me this morning. Not only do I not feel like going to the grocery store, but I have to dress and take the mogwai with me because her owner is in a Nyquil coma.
And since I'm ranting...
I'll be so glad when this election is over. Part of my headache stems from everyone becoming a political activist all of a sudden on Facebook. Name five people on the DC council! If you don't live in DC then name your state senators. If you can do that then you have my respect, otherwise you're just annoying.
There are three branches of government. Two of them are electable. If Romney wins, slavery will not be reinstated. If Obama wins, your beauty school dropout ass will still be unemployed. Leave me alone.
That was mean. I'm sorry. I get cranky when I'm sick...and I have a two year old who is hell bent on skydiving off the top of the couch. It's like, you work so hard to keep someone alive when they obviously have a different vision of their future. Anyway, I'm just tangenting because I haven't blogged in a while.
If I can dope up on enough cold medicine then you can look forward to tomorrow's blog entitled "Am I An Uncle Tom?" Inquiring minds would like to know.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
We "Missed" Halloween YAY!
Well, Halloween is over. The boys over here in mission control are throwing high fives around the room. Another holiday has passed that we didn't celebrate with our daughter. So far we've missed Halloween, The 4th of July, Easter, Valentine's Day and MLK's Birthday (That's when kids dress up in suits and ties and walk around giving speeches). I know it sounds mean, but you have to see the big picture. I have the rest of my life to be an ATM machine. If she isn't aware of these holidays yet, then why rush into things? In the words of Janet Jackson, "Let's wait a while...before we go too far." When she starts school next year, I'm certain some asshole teacher will inform her of all of these holidays.
Truth be told, I actually look forward to it. Halloween was one of my favorite holidays. I was always too cheap to spend my money on candy. For the price of a Snickers, I could get two Chick-o-Sticks, two Tootsie Pops, a pack of Now-and-Laters and three of those rock hard bubble gums. Halloween was like the Christmas of candy.
It was the same thing every year. I'd beg for a costume all month and my mother would pull out her "I'm broke" card. "We'll see what happens when I get paid." About two days before Halloween we'd go to Peoples Drug Store (now CVS) so that I could pick a costume from the scraps that were left. They used to come in a box with that hard ass plastic mask showing through the front. Each year I wanted to be a Ghostbuster, but I had to take whatever was left. I got to be one once, but those costumes were so cheap that you couldn't keep them from year to year.
I didn't complain much, because the worst thing you could do on Halloween was go around without a costume. Correction, the worst thing you could do was go around sharing a costume. One kid got the mask and the other got the outfit. And don't get me started on the kids whose parents made them go around in their school uniform and tell people that they were a student. Or...their old cap and gown. "I'm a graduate!"
I'd take whatever they had in the store and walk around with that little mask while trying to breath through the little slit in the mouth. Either my tongue got cut on it or my eyelids were scratched to hell whenever I blinked while trying to look through the eye slots. But I dare not take the mask off. "As much as you begged me to buy you a costume!" We would walk around for about two hours and I'd come home with about three grocery store bags filled with candy. My mother would check it a.k.a. take what she liked out of it. It's amazing how all of the Reese Cups were poisoned every year. Then I'd go to school the next day where everyone would lie about how much candy they got the night before.
Truth be told, I actually look forward to it. Halloween was one of my favorite holidays. I was always too cheap to spend my money on candy. For the price of a Snickers, I could get two Chick-o-Sticks, two Tootsie Pops, a pack of Now-and-Laters and three of those rock hard bubble gums. Halloween was like the Christmas of candy.
It was the same thing every year. I'd beg for a costume all month and my mother would pull out her "I'm broke" card. "We'll see what happens when I get paid." About two days before Halloween we'd go to Peoples Drug Store (now CVS) so that I could pick a costume from the scraps that were left. They used to come in a box with that hard ass plastic mask showing through the front. Each year I wanted to be a Ghostbuster, but I had to take whatever was left. I got to be one once, but those costumes were so cheap that you couldn't keep them from year to year.
I didn't complain much, because the worst thing you could do on Halloween was go around without a costume. Correction, the worst thing you could do was go around sharing a costume. One kid got the mask and the other got the outfit. And don't get me started on the kids whose parents made them go around in their school uniform and tell people that they were a student. Or...their old cap and gown. "I'm a graduate!"
I'd take whatever they had in the store and walk around with that little mask while trying to breath through the little slit in the mouth. Either my tongue got cut on it or my eyelids were scratched to hell whenever I blinked while trying to look through the eye slots. But I dare not take the mask off. "As much as you begged me to buy you a costume!" We would walk around for about two hours and I'd come home with about three grocery store bags filled with candy. My mother would check it a.k.a. take what she liked out of it. It's amazing how all of the Reese Cups were poisoned every year. Then I'd go to school the next day where everyone would lie about how much candy they got the night before.
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