Sesostris

• I was watching Engineering an Empire : Egypt and now I can't get the name Sesostris out of my head or Snefru for that matter
• ella ella ella eh!
• Last weekend I went to my godson's (MonkeyBoy) basketball game with Cousin T.  We showed up in time for his second game (the first was at some ungawdly hour in the morning) and the other team hasn't shown up, so it was a forfeit.  
  

1. Superslag was there with NewBabyGirl and WackThug showed up.  We're watching the kids shoot around for a while and there's this little boy who is pretty damned good.  Doesn't hurt that he's taller than most of the other kids, but his Jordan's are barely tied.  So I say, "That kid would be awesome if someone took the time to tie his sneakers."  And Cousin T starts choking and everyone else (SuperSlag and WackThug) get quiet.  Cousin T told me later the kid was WackThug's son...
2. MonkeyBoy makes the same stink face as that his mother (SuperSlag) used to make when she was upset about something as a child
3. Cousin T and I went to see her Mommy in the hospital after we left the non-game.  She was doing much better (trying to get us to bring her some real food!) and is actually home now.  I promised her that I would make her some incense...

• Memory foam Sock Monkey Slippers (from Target) are apparently "gangsta."
• can I just say "ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" ah, much better
• I had the worst cereal I have ever eaten this morning.  It tasted buttery and sweet and sour, it was in a word disgusting.
• So I usually do my locks myself.  Its a long and arduous task, but I'm always happy with the results when I'm done.  The worse thing that happens when I do it, is that I think my curls are too tight, or something else trivial.  The same can't be said for when someone else does it.  

1. There was the African Hair Braiding place where I used to have to wash it first (if I wanted it really clean) and bring all of my own supplies.  And forget asking them to style them.  And I usually would have to tell the woman not to use so much product in my hair.
2. Then there was the professional loctician.  She was right near my house, and not too expensive.  Sistah can really do hair, but she has no customer service skills or personality at all as far as I can tell.  I went twice.  Both times it was just me and her in the shop and she said about 20 words to me.  The first time, I kept trying to ask questions, one word answers.  I'm not asking for your life story, but if we have to sit here together for 2 and a half hours, the least you could do is turn on some fucking music or talk to me!    The second time I wore my ipod and brought a book.  Yeah my hair looked nice, but I always left there feeling uncomfortable, like she really didn't want my business.
   
3. So now I found a new place.  I know I'm just being completely and utterly lazy, since I'm home all day it's not like I couldn't do it myself.  But I kind of want to get out of the house.  So I walked over there the other morning, and they weren't open.  I think that's a sign that I should get off of my ass and do it myself.  No curls this time though, they take too fucking long to do.
4. Speaking of hair, but almost completely unrelated (like something in this post was related) you know I really can't cornrow.  Lately Mommy has been making me practice on her, talkinbout what if I have little girls.  But PYT has braids and asked me if I could do his hair, I was like, "Uh..."

• I was going to say that I was verrrry goood last month in terms of not shopping.  But thats not entirely true, so I was going to amend it to say that I didn't buy any clothes last month.  But thats not true either...

1. I got my rose gold and black diamond ring.  To say I love it would be an understatement.  I also have to learn to stop staring at it like an idjeet, but I'm fascinated that something sooo black could be sooo sparkly
2. And I got a pair of high top Coach sneakers that I could not resist.  The look like Chucks (which I also love) and they are all black but they fold over to a leopard print (real genuine illegal leopard - sorry, the Artist used to say this to me all the time)
3. I got the Coach Chucks when I was looking for a pair of black pumps.  Which I realized that I didn't have when I was cleaning out my closet.  I got a fairly standard pair from MaxStudio with a rounded toe, but they have really great toe cleavage.  
4. And I got a dress, hammered silk off the shoulder BCBG.  But I'm not sure if its for me or for my goddaughter (MonkeyGirl.)  She has a formal event coming up next month and I saw the dress and kind of thought of her, even though I already gave her a dress.  But I was also thinking of me a little, since we wear the same size.  Can I just take a moment to say that I'm really kind of pissed and proud of that!?!  I mean what the fuck the kid used to fit on my lap, her whole freaking body used to fit on my lap!  And now the kid can borrow my clothes AND shoes! So anyway, the dress came (I got it from my favorite BCBG seller on ebay) and welll, I tried it on.  I really have no where to wear it, but it looks great, and I'm kind of hoping that she won't like it.  that is a really fucked up thought
5. I also got some lingerie from Victoria's Secret, they're having a clearance sale.  I haven't worn any of it yet though

• Speaking of the Artist, he is the worst joke teller ever!  But he always manages to make you laugh, just not at the joke he's telling.  So, he calls me up and is like "Hey Troubsy, what do you call cheese, that's not your cheese?" and he's cracking up while he's asking me.  I can hear Hautechick in the background saying, "Nooooo Artsy!" and I'm like, "I don't know Artso (*ahahahaha I dont know Artso! that rhymes) stolen cheese?"  And he's all, "Nnooooooooooo! (giggle giggle guffaw guffaw) Nacho cheese!" and then falls into a fit of hysterics.  Hautechick picks up the phone and says "He told that sooo wrong!  He was supposed to say, what do you call cheese that doesn't belong to you!  He's soo silly."  (she said it in that gushy "aww I love him" kind of way)
• This post is just a lame attempt by me to put off doing my hair as long as possible.  Thank you for playing along!  If you don't hear from me in awhile, no, I'm not being my usual flaking self.  I'm probably just tangled up in my hair.  Wish me luck, maybe I'll take a picture when I'm done

Speaking of poop...

When I was a sophmore in high school, Hautechick was a freshman in college. Since she spent high school locked up at an all girls boarding school, she decided to go to college in NYC and live at home to save some dough. I wanted to kill her for that decision. The main reason was because of our bathroom situation. Three women (well I was a young woman at the time) and one freaking bathroom. Mommy and I had pretty much worked out how to not inconvenience each other when here comes Ms. Stink Booty.

Here would be my typical morning routine in high school; Wake up and wait for Mommy to finish in the bathroom, use the toilet, brush my teeth, start the shower (it was an old house, took awhile for the water to get hot), and as soon as I put both feet in the tub, there would be a knock on the door. "Troub let me in, I have to go to the bathroom!"

The first couple of times I felt sorry for her and let her in. Each and everytime, I wouldn't be able to smell anything for the next 2 hours! I have no idea what the hell she was eating in those days, but boy did my nose sure suffer. Soo, I took to not letting her in. That worked a couple of times, then she decided to get Mommy involved, "Mommy! Trouble won't let me in the bathroom and I reallllllly have to go!" Of course I had to let her in, but usually by this time I would be done with my shower (I think I got it down to about 5 minutes to soap up and rinse off) and just lotion up in my room.

It wasn't until my junior year that I decided to get revenge. I would sneak downstairs to Hautechick's room while Mommy was in the shower. Then I would either sneak into her closet and steal her clothes/shoes/sneakers/bags/etc. or if I knew she got in really late the night before I would just ask her. When she would mumble something back (I told you, I come from a a family of sleep talkers. Just the other night Mommy asked me out of nowhere, "Does it have a finished basement?" She must have been dreaming about her vacation home.) I would take that as a yes and boogie. The clothes were cool and all, but they still didn't make up for all of the singed nose hairs.

Til this day, whenever Hautechick comes over, she always wants to use my bathroom. Doesn't matter that Mommy's apartment has one and a half baths, she still wants to use mine. And if I tell her no, Mommy says, "Oh stop being mean and let your sister use your bathroom!" (I notice that Duke always vacates the premises whenever she gets to pooping)

Endnote: This is kinda gross, but the reason this post popped into my head is cause Hautechick recently told me that she tried that new pro biotic yogurt. You know the one that as Tina Fey put it, makes you poop. Wellll, she sooo did not need to try that. On top of being highly highly regular, she's also a little lactose intolerant. All I have to say is that I feel really sorry that her husband and her co-workers had to go through that genius experiment with her. To them I gift some frankincense, myrrh, and some of that air displacing stuff...

A Lil Bit Of Trouble (aka Tiki)

My adventures in mischief began at an early age.  I think I mentioned getting my head stuck in a banister.  For the most part it was all petty stuff like sticking my finger in freshly iced cakes, or asking too many damn questions for the likes of some adults.  I didn't step up to the big time until the 2nd grade...

I was still in public school, in the Astor program for gifted and talented children which basically equated to a bunch of smartass trouble makers.  Boy did we pull off some scams back in the day, but this little caper was done all on my own.  I'm not sure if schools still require parents to sign all of their children's test, but I had this science test and I was pretty sure that I could forge Mommy's signature.  

I found something that she had signed in her desk drawer and set to work.  I'm not going to reveal my methods, but thinking back, they were pretty sophisticated for a 2nd grader.  I'm feeling pretty good about myself.  Wondering if maybe I should offer my services to some of the other kids.  I hand in my signed test at the end of class, gathering up my stuff when the teacher says, "Trouble can you please stay after class."

Busted!  The teacher took one look at the signature and knew it wasn't my moms.  She was confident that my mother wouldn't sign her name in erasable ink, at least not with so many smudge marks.  Guess I made too many corrections.  What Mommy couldn't figure out was why I would try to forge a signature on a test that I got a 89 on.  I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it.  That extra book report and chores sure served to teach me my lesson.  I never used erasable ink again...

Cocky

My mom always taught me that there is no shame in giving yourself a compliment.  To paraphrase Muhammad Ali, humble people don't get very far.  You don't know how many times she's sat back after eating a meal that she just cooked and said, "That was exactly what I wanted, it was delicious if I may say so myself."  So lets just say that at times, I'm cocky as hell.  I mean, when things are down, it always helps to take a look at the things that you have going for you.  

For example, I'm young, I'm pretty, and I hit hard.  Not to mention that I own my own home, an incredibly dangerous and cunning mind, and a shitload of very nice clothes.  The world is my runway, and I own that bitch, if I may say so myself.  No matter how I may be feeling, the face that I present to the world is polished, clean.  My clothes are my armor, my bag my shield, my smile my trusty sword, my mind that hidden dagger that will strike the final blow.  (if you're wondering where that last bit came from, I just finished watching The Return of the King, it got me kinda hyped.)

But even the baddest bitch has her moments of self doubt.  That runway is fraught with possible slips and falls, and no matter how many times you practice walking in those 5 inch heels (like the ones from my Polyvore below) there is still a possibility that you'll end up ass out and eye to eye with the cameras.  I slipped this week.  It could have been a full out face plant, but I managed to get my equilibrium and turn it into a full out twirl.  I was feeling a bit, anxious, out of sorts, paralyzed with fear at thought of the future.  So for a minute I retreated.  I've never had a problem being alone, I find myself wildly fascinating, plus I'm a great listener.  My imagination is powerful enough that I can disappear into the world of fiction, snuggled deeply in down (that is until it was fucking 68 degrees, what the fuck), a mug of tea at my bedside, a large snoring dog on the floor under the window.   And it was warm, and comfortable, and not in the least bit scary, or anxiety ridden.  Then Friday rolled around and Cousin T called, "Still want to go to that party with me?" It's Cousin T, so despite my internal hesitation, I immediately replied, "Yes."

Fuck!  A million little niggling thoughts are going through my mind.  Is Big Mr. Sad going to be there?  Is it going to be a bunch of 22 and 23 year olds?  Do I really have to get out of the bed?  What the fuck am I going to wear!?!?!  A couple of (*ahem) inhales later, and I calmed the fuck down.  What the hell am I so worried about.  Just get clean, then get dressed and represent in my usual you aint got shit on me style.  (That is after a couple more inhales.)  Two hours, one shower, some MAC and a banging outfit later (off the shoulder sweater tunic, with my leather look leggings over the knee boots, and a vintage rabbit fur jacket - everything was black except for the boots which are a deep red) and I was really feeling my self.  Four hours later and I had two new numbers in my phone and had refreshed my status as a Baby Cougar - 22 and 25 if you're wondering...

Randomly...

• Hey did you know Blogger is now available in Arabic, Hebrew and Persian?  I thought that was kinda cool...
• So sometimes I miss comments that you guys leave for me and for that I apologize, but I can't believe that I missed that whole Anal Sex conversation!  Here's Wiki's article on Anal Sex if anyone is interested...
• "A maiden before and a martyr behind"!  Not me, but that line cracked me the fuck up!  Don't know what I'm talking about? Anal sex and Norman Mailer's Harlot's Ghost
• I just read this article about the recent changes in animal behavior; stingrays attacking humans (there was another incident shortly after the one with Steve Irwin), packs of wild dogs coming into towns and attacking people, monkeys holding water deliveries hostage, and ELEPHANTS RAPING RHINOS! (type that phrase into google and you'll get over 84,000 hits)
• Speaking of animal behavior, did you know that a Florida man was shot by a puppy in 2004?!?  It was considered self defense since the man was trying to kill the puppy and his six sibs.  He couldn't find them homes and had already killed 3 of the pups.  Then there is also the case where a hunting dog shot his owner in the leg.  Apparently its not uncommon for hunters to get shot by their dogs.  I also heard there was the dog that shot his owner in the back when the owner was beating his girlfriend, but I can't find a source for that story...
• LadyShay (fresh from Gasparilla) finds the coolest food shit!  Make and publish your own cookbook

Ahhhh

thats a little easier to read now isn't it?

Bad God Mother

yes, I will admit it, I'm a terrible God Mother.  I don't see my Monkey Girl nearly as much as I should and she is such an amazing young lady.  She is going to be 13 in March and while I absolutely adore her alot of shit gets in the way of me spending time with her.  Namely her mother, Superslag (she and the baby are out of the hospital, so I can go back to calling her Superslag without feeling bad) not that she stays with Superslag.  She actually lives with her stepfather, his mom, and her little brother.  I think that her stepdad and his family are an amazing bunch of people for raising a little girl that they certainly didn't have to.  And it pisses me off to no end that my family didn't step up and keep MonkeyGirl with us.  They all talk about the Steps like they are better than them, but my family has their own issues, and Superslag is like the carrier for all of them.

But Monkey Girl does not let me get away with slacking, and since the Steps like me, she calls me pretty often.  Boy do I need to teach that child phone manners cause whenever she calls there is no hey Trouble or anything, she just starts talking.  Luckily I don't know any other sweet voiced 12 year old girls.  Figuring out what she is talking about is a whole nother story.  

It was back in August, and I was chilling with Hautey and the Artist, my cell phone rings "Trouba what kind of smoothie did you get that time?"  Huh?  Ok the nickname stems from when she was a wee one and couldn't say my name so I know who it is.  What smoothie though?  Oh shit, she means the smoothie that I got July 4th weekend when we were in the Vineyard.  Like the hell I remember!  So I had her read me the flavors when she got to the bakery.

Two days ago, I'm playing with Pooper and my cell phone rings, "Trouba whats the address of the Capezio store by your job?"  Huh?  I swear the kid probably thinks I'm slow.  Oh thats right she switched programs at her Junior High School and is now in the dance program.  So I spent a good portion of yesterday running around looking for footless flesh tone tights in a S/M.  And getting them to her for her performance today.  I can't wait cause I usually miss her performances because of my work schedule, but I'm not missing this one!  I'll be sure to take lots of pictures!

Oh and she gets all the clothes that I'm giving away, the little shits legs are almost as long as mine! (and thats saying something cause I'm about 3/4 legs!)  And the reason I called her a little shit just now, is cause I'm telling her that I look and see if I have any size 0 pants and jeans for her and shes scheming on how to get me out of the J Brands that I had on, "Why don't you let me try those on to see what will fit?  Who makes those again?  What size are they?"  

Useless Complaint

So I'm awake and its all nice and quiet except for Duke's snoring and all of a sudden I hear this loud ass BEEEEEEEP!  Naturally, it scares the crap out of me and makes me realize that I have to pee.  It's my cell phone, apparently the battery needs to be charged.

Um, to cell phone engineers worldwide, can I ask a question; Wouldn't it make more sense to have the damn thing conserve energy when the phone is dying instead of beeping every 4 fucking minutes?  And why is it that the low battery alarm is louder than any of the other beeps and tones on my phone?  I won't hear the damn thing singing Back to Black at max volume in my Botkier bag, but the low battery alarm I always hear.  FIX THAT SHIT!  I guarantee that you'll make a shit load of money if you do.

Huh

Apparently I'm a member of Team Celine, so if any of you are interested in Celine Dion tickets, holla at your girl! You know I got that hotness! Owwww

And I think "Don't Forget to Hide A Pickle In The Solstice Tree" has got to be one of the best titles that I've come up with, if I might say so myself. I think thats going to be the name of my novel...

And TRexy is still making me giggle like a loon.

I had to take the train with high school kids this morning and for some reason that always makes me nervous. By the by Afro, I was right, that was my train!

Wish me luck, the NY Mega Millions Jackpot is now 96 million dollars! That's 96 million dollars! Ah ha ha ha! (sorry still channeling the Count) I promise to buy you all something (or at least come and visit you all) if I win. Hmmm, I'm thinking TypHo estates in Canada, Hawaii, Turkey, Barbados, Seychelles, Belize or Ecuador, Thailand, Italy, and New Zealand.

For some reason this morning I said to Persian Royalty, "I need tea and sympathy!" he cracked up and told me thats the name of a restaurant. And don't worry I don't really need the sympathy, I'm in an exceptionally good mood! Which is hella strange considering...

Don't Forget to Hide a Pickle in the Solstice Tree!

* you show me where in the Bible is says that JC was born on December 25th and I'll start calling it Christmas. Some Pope back in the 4th Century choose December 25th, which was already an established holiday among Pagans. (by the by Pagan comes from the word paganus which means rustic, and refers to people that adhere to a Pre-Christian religion - mostly nature based or polytheistic. Oh shit look at the Dumb Rexy knowing shit! owwwwww!) That shit is Winter Solstice or Brumalia if you want to go waaaaay back. Christmas didn't even become a federal holiday in the USA until 1870.

When you're setting up your Solstice tree this year, don't forget to hide a pickle! Its a German tradition. And whom ever finds it on Solstice Eve, gets a special gift! Just some random winter knowledge that I picked up working in a Holiday Ornament store in high school. We used to sell glass pickles. I also know from working there that the man who used to play the Lone Ranger is delusional (dude you were on tv before I was even born, of course I didn't know who you were! Shit even the older folk didn't know who the hell you were, even AFTER you said your name, which I still dont recall) Rosie is hell on assistants and something of a meanie (we sold these ruby slipper ornaments that were covered in glitter and kept sending her assistant back to exchange them cause she didn't like the way the glitter was placed. I should point out that she picked them out herself but blamed the assistant) And Gregory Hines was exceptionally nice, a true gentleman and entertainer! RIP Mr. Hines...

I Wasn't Gonna Do This...

...another post that is. But I managed to wrangle a half an hour to myself and made the rounds. (I think I got to everybody) Well actually I was on The Skirkle cause for some reason my link to PrettyBlack didn't want to work. So I saw that it was word association day, (I'll be back Shay! I like to at least read what you guys write cause I really preciates it when you guys read what I write! Even went to Texas to visit Madame Harley! - you know they've been trying to inject radioactive dye into my thyroid for the last 9 months?) but then I headed over to PrettyBlackGold and I am so glad that I did cause she sent me here.

http://www.1hivpositivegirl.blogspot.com/
check it out because HIV and AIDS effects us all
Thanks PrettyBlack!

And on a lighter note, I don't know whose cuter the duck or the ladybug! PrettyBlack and LadyShay have some of the cutest little brown girls I evah did see!

I've got a Daemon!

Ok, so I told you I was excited about the Golden Compass movie, and I posted the preview, but I forgot to mention that I spent about an hour and a half on the movie's website. And I found my daemon! His name is Aenad, he's a crow don't ja know! Apparently I'm modest, spontaneous, inquisitive, proud (and modest? ohkay) and assertive....




And did I mention that DANIEL CRAIG IS IN THE MOVIE!!!!! I think I forgot that part, he's Lord Asriel... (and Eva Green, Nik Kidman, and Sam Elliot)

The original books are by Phillip Pullman, he rocks hard in my humble opinion

wha tha heezy?!

I don't know what happened to the pretty pic.

I fell into Excel Hell yesterday and I'm still trying to claw my way out of that bitch, bear with me.

Speaking of Excel Hell, BossMan had me create this spreadsheet that labels items 1a, 2a, 3a, etc. The letter range from a to h and the numbers from 1 to 22, arranged by letter than number (all the a's then all the b's, c's, etc.) I give the sheet to BossMan and hes like, this is great but can I see it arranged by number than letter also? (all the 1's then 2's then 3's) I say fine, give me a minute to rearrange it. Exactly 60 seconds later, this artless fen-sucked clotpole (see below) is bellowing for me. ITS AN EXPRESSIONS! damn, give me a little more time.

Have you heard of Ron Mueck? He's a pretty fucking cool artist that makes giant babies, among other things...

Thou yeasty rump fed maltworm! Thou churlish earth vexing canker-blossom! Thou loggerheaded knotty pated skainsmate! Wanna learn how to insult someone like Shakespeare? Go here thou gleeking dismal dreaming bugbear! I think my new favorite insult is gonna be "thou pribbling beefwitted giglet!"

I know All Hallow's Eve has come and gone, but if you want a Christopher Walken mask (him on SNL was one of the funniest things they've done besides Dick in a Box, or Lazy Sunday) you can get your very own right chere!

So this morning I decided to wear my red dolman sleeve sweater and a black wool pencil skirt. I'm looking for tights when I remember that I just got a new pair of black sweater tights last weekend. Pop open them bitches, throw on some boots and makeup and I'm out. I'm walking up the block to the train station and look down, errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrk! them bitches are navy blue, back to the house I go! So you know I was late right?

The Receptionist (formerly known as Crapcakes) and I have banded together to defeat the evil Bambi. Snarkyness will prevail over stoopidity! And Office Manager is on it. She can't stand that churlish boil brained giglet either.

I'm really excited that they made The Golden Compass into a movie, I love those books and sooooo hope it doesn't blow chunks...

This fucking knot in my neck....

Cool Beans

Duke thinks he can talk, but he don't have anything on these guys!

Mwahahahahahahah!*

*no reason for this title except its Halloween and you can always use a good evil laugh on All Hallows Eve. Or Samhain, (blooger must be strictly Christian cause it don't know that word) which means Summers End in some other language.

DONT FORGET TO SET YOUR CLOCKS BACK ON SUNDAY (fall back momofoko, I don't know you like that!)

So I gave myself the day off, cause I was hella busy today and I noticed that I've been doing a lot of post lately. Each month has more post that the one before it. But as you can see, I couldn't stay away. I got the broadband fixed on the macbook, but I spent last night watching Extreme Makeover Home Edition on abc.com. I really like that show, even if it makes me cry every week. This week they helped out a Navajo boy and his family. This little dude didn't have heat in the trailer that they were living in so he invented a solar powered heater for his mom and little sister. I mean homeboy went to the junkyard found some old cans and made that shit work. AND all the while he was going to a school that lacked proper science equipment. They built him and his sisters a green house, complete with sedum on the roof, solar panels that following the sun, and a wind turbine. Plus it lookded (sorry I typed that by mistake but left it in cause it irks me to no end when I hear people say it) amazing.

Something weird happened to me last night. I was walking to the train station after work, on the phone telling Mommy that I was on my way, when I hear someone say, "Wow, beautiful locks." I turn around and look up into some of the nicest eyes I've seen in a long time. No need to tell you that I got off the phone with Mommy quick fast in a hurry. He introduces himself asks if I'm on my way to the train station and if he can walk me. Big pretty man wants to walk me to the train, heck yeah! Pleasant conversation for the most part, but he was weird. He had locks too, but he cut them off, and was carrying them around in his backpack. He's telling me how he's gonna glue them on a cap and wear them for All Hallows. Typical, he cute and crazy. So we get to the train station and he's all, "Well it was nice meeting you Trouble" and I'm all "It was nice meeting you too!" eyes all a twinkling smile all bright and shiny, but I gotta admit that I forgot homeboys name as soon as he told me about the hair in his bag. And he's kinda holding on to my hand, and I let him for a minute. But I have a short attention span so I pulled free and he let me go with a maybe I'll see you around.

Not that I was into crazy pretty boy but I think I'm a little offended that he didn't ask for my number...

Working again...

Damn these people, dont they know I need these hours to blog! No damn consideration. Well, if tonight is anything like last night, I may be up til 2 in the morning again (Hey Anners!) but I may also have mush for brain so I'm gonna try and get some interesting shit on here before I go home.

Oooo and I can't stand the chick but I now know who to blame for all the teenyboppers and pathetic middle aged woman hanging around my office building. Turns out Beyawnce lives across the street. I would soooo totes (Hey Danae!) post the address but that would only lead to more idiots being around my job. I'm sure if you know NYC and had been reading this blog for a while you can figure out where she lives. AND somebody totes cool and super bad was at my job today. I can't say who it was so lets just say he's an NHL hall of famer and I used to watch NHL with my Daddy so I knew who he was! (He really doesn't play for the NHL, just easier to tell the story this way) But then here comes Giraffe making fun of the women in the job cause we said it was Wayne Gretzky and he said it was Martan Brodeur. Now granted all of the other women in the office had to look up his name, but I KNEW it wasn't Brodeur. And I was right! So Giraffe will never live it down.

Oh Shit

more cut and paste....

Tough questions

Question 1: If you knew a woman who was pregnant, who had 8 kids already,
three who were deaf, two who were blind, one mentally retarded, and she had syphilis; would you recommend that she have an abortion?
Read the next question before scrolling down to the
answer of this one........



Question 2: It is time to elect a new world leader, and your vote counts.
Here are the facts about the three leading candidates:

Candidate A: Associates with crooked politicians, and consults with astrologists. He's had two mistresses. He also chain smokes and drinks 8 to 10 martinis a day.

Candidate B: He was kicked out of office twice, sleeps until noon, used opium in college and drinks a quart of whisky every evening.

Candidate C: He is a decorated war hero. He's a vegetarian, doesn't smoke, drinks an occasional beer and hasn't had any extramarital affairs.

Which of these candidates would be your choice? Decide first, no peeking, then scroll down for the answer.














Candidate A is Franklin D. Roosevelt

Candidate B is Winston Churchill

Candidate C is Adolph Hitler

And by the way: Answer to the abortion question …..if you said yes, you just killed Beethoven..

Pretty interesting isn't it. Makes a person think, before judging someone.

Remember amateurs built the ark - Professionals built the Titanic.

Crazy Facts

Or as I like to call it Cut and Paste!
Like I said, lazy today so I dont know if these are true, somebody look it up ok?

In the 1400's a law was set forth that a man was not allowed to beat his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb. Hence we have "the rule of thumb".

Many years ago in Scotland, a new game was invented. It was ruled "Gentlemen Only...Ladies Forbidden"...and thus the word GOLF entered into the English language.

It is impossible to lick your elbow.

111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321

If a statue in the park of a person on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle. If the horse has one front leg in the air the person died as a result of wounds received in battle. If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural
causes.

Q. If you were to spell out numbers, how far would you have to go until you would find the letter "A"?
A. One thousand

Q. What do bullet-proof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers, and laser printers all have in common?
A. All invented by women. (owwww!)

It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 years ago that for a month after the wedding, the bride's father would supply his son-in-law with all the mead he could drink. Mead is a honey beer and because their calendar was lunar based, this period was called the honey month, which we know today as the honeymoon.

In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts... So in old England, when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them "Mind your pints and quarts, and settle down." It's where we get the phrase "mind your P's and Q's"

At least 75% of people who read this will try to lick their elbow (Lord knows I did, twice)

The Way I Are...

I was a floater in high school. Not really surprising considering that I bore easily and the damn school only had 87 people. My class was the second largest, coming in with a whooping 23 kids. And just in case you still haven't gotten it let me spell it out. e i g h t y s e v e n k i d s i n t h e e n t i r e s c h o o l n i n t h t o t w e l f t h. Got it?

So I hung out with everybody. The Theatre kids were always in character. I did Waiting for Godot, God by Woody Allen, and the Mad Woman of Chaillot, pretty impressive works for high school. And see there is some basis for me saying that I'm gonna be the next Gabby Union, only this time with talent (*ba doom bish!) But it still did not prepare me for the nasty ass Theater Major that would be my roommate freshman year in college - used tampons and pads do not go in the wastepaper basket you crab! (I was in that room for less than a month - the stupid RA was like "Why don't you try talking to her? Maybe she doesn't know..." 18 years old and she don't already know that people don't want to see her bloody rags?! - sorry that was gross for me too)

I played trumpet in the Jazz band and I've been know to improvise on a sax or trombone. My name earned me alot of cool points with the music set. I also sang 2nd Soprano in the school chorus - I even had a couple of solos. I can still give one hell of a Yankee Yell (I was gonna put Rebel Yell there but that would have been all kinds a wrong for a black girl from NYC) and I probably have one of the most melodic Rat Rage Screams in New York.

I hung out with the Asian kids (girls really there were only like 2 Asian guys, one who was kinda hot but very pervy), the school was so small the cool ones and the geeky ones had no choice but to hang out together. In exchange for editing their papers, I had all the Calculus tutors a girl could ever want and a hook up for my pager. With them I learned how to tell when an Asian woman is cursing you out without having to know the language, that I can eat Jellyfish (but why would I want to when its like chewing on rubberbands), and they used to always tell me when people were talking about me (couldn't fart in that school without the Asian chicks knowing!)

I played volleyball, basketball, and softball so I had an in with the jocks. Specially since I used to fill in for the guys basketball team's score keeper. They didn't let me do that very often cause I would usually bust into giggles at the patheticness (that's not really a word, but it should be!) that was our boys basketball team. Girls team totally kicked ass though! We were always in the semi-finals or finals for our league while I was playing. And did I mention that I was a starter freshman year (it would be more impressive if I hadn't just told you that there was only 87 kids in the school) and that I've played ever position except point guard. Yes, my 5'7" ass did play center and did the jump ball gainst some big burly bitches!

I hung out with the gays and lesbians, well actually I had 2 openly gay teachers and one suspected lesbian (the school was founded by a communist lesbian so lets just say tolerance was more than a catch phrase.) Plus I had two friends, one male and one female who came out shortly after graduation (well actually he was a year ahead of us so he came out and my homegirl did too. duh you idiots, like I didn't know! Shit I think I knew before they did.) And from them I learned that gay or lesbian does not mean sex addict. Sheet if I had a quarter for everytime some dowdy dog lookin chick thought my homegirl was checking her out in the locker room just because she was gay. Dudes don't want you, you really think a woman would? (by the by we all lived in the same neighborhood and took the train home together not that I need to justify why we hung together.) They also taught me how to pitch pennies at the third rail (I know I know totally troublesome right but you'll be happy to know I was never able to get the penny to make sparks...)

I was also in student government, gave peer tours to visiting students, was the effing prom committee (u bunch of lazy shits! I wasn't even gonna go to that crap) and was in the photo club (and I pretty sure that I still remember how to process my own film and make my own prints.)

To Me!

1,000 smarty farty points for using Waiting for Godot in a post!