The First Fight

It was inevitable. I knew it was coming, but I'm still not sure how to handle my disappointment.

I invited Four to Gutz' wedding about a month ago - the wedding itself was held yesterday. I told him that it was to be a ghetoriffic affair, bride all tatted up, groom with cornrows and tatts as well, held in a place (not a church) right in the middle of the hood. I also said that some of my favorite people would be there and I would like for him to meet them. My gorgeous lil cuz (who's 21 and at least 6 feet tall so I should really stop calling him my lil cuz!), my god daughter, Cousin T, my aunts - so I was happy to be going. And at the least I expected it to be entertaining.

The disagreement started a month ago when I showed him the first dress I had planned on wearing. He didn't like it, which was fine but a bit of a let down. I love to shop, so I found another dress - it was $20 and adorable so that kind of took the sting out of him not liking the first dress. But then he said that this dress was too short. It covered my ass and nothing was hanging out, it wasn't skin tight, so I figured he would get over it. Now for the next escalation.

Four assistant coaches some 13+ boys in a basketball league. I asked him if he was sure that he could make it or if he had a game the day of the wedding. He tells me that yes they have a game but that he should be able to make it and if anything that he would just meet me at the wedding. Ooooookay! I'm thinking that he has a game at 11 or 12 and that he'll be down at 1, head home to take a shower and still be just able to make it to the wedding at 3:30. Then last week, he tells me how the head coach cancelled practice on Thursday and Friday so that he could go to a friends rehearsal dinner and wedding. I'm hoping that he will take the cue and say that he can't make it to the game on Saturday so that he can be my date. No such luck

To make matters worse, my cousin who is the photographer asks me for my help since he is the one giving Gutz away. I'm excited for the opportunity since I recently started getting back into photography, something that I haven't done since I was a sophomore in college. I tell Four thinking he'll be excited since I am, and his reaction is "So you're going to be leaving me alone with a bunch of people I don't know!?" I'm calm, cool and collected even though I'm more than disappointed in his reaction. I don't point out that that is exactly what he did to me when we went to the wedding in VA. I don't point out that in VA, he didn't have a specific function that kept him from being with me, he was just off talking to his friends. Instead I tell him that I will make sure that he is seated with Lil Cuz since they have alot to talk about and my Lil Cuz is the best! He still doesn't look convinced and I'm starting to get nervous about how this wedding is going to play out.

The day of the wedding, I wake up early to take care of some stuff and around noon I send him a text message to see what he's up to. I'm expecting him to tell me that he's in the middle of a game and instead he waits about 10 minutes before texting me back and telling me that he doesn't start coaching until 1. WTF!!!! If he had been in Brooklyn, where the wedding is, or even in Queens, where he lives, I wouldn't have been concerned. But he's not, he's in Harlem and I can see no possible way for him to make it to the wedding. So I say as much, I send him a text that said "So your not going to make it to the wedding..." He waits an additional 20 minutes, til about 1:30 and then he calls me. He tells me that he has his clothes with him. Getting madder because even though I told him it was a ghetto wedding, I still expect him to take a shower before getting dressed. He tells me that the game has been forfeited and that his boys won. Getting even madder because the way I see it that means that he REALLY didn't need to be there. He tells me that he's about to leave and he can make it to the wedding. Getting really mad because I feel like he should have been in the car already making his way to Brooklyn. So I tell him not to bother, that I can go to the wedding by myself, he doesn't have to come with me.

I'm mad and I'm the first one to admit that most people do not act rationally when they are upset. But it's the way I feel. Sure he could have made it to the wedding and I really didn't expect it to start on time (actually didn't start until after 4) but I was feeling like he didn't really take it seriously. Like his priority was the boys basketball team, not going to a wedding with me. I'm thinking about how I spent 4 days in VA to go to a wedding with him. How I paid for my plane ticket. How I spent one of those days mostly alone because he couldn't fly down til Friday night and I came in on Thursday night. How he left me alone at the table while he went and entertained his best friends girl. How he would walk off and have conversations with people and leave me alone at the table and how I would have been madder about it had I not gotten along so well with one of the women at the table. And I don't want to deal with him. So when he sends me a text 20 minutes later that he's on his way to Brooklyn and am I sure that I don't want him to come, I say "no thanks!"

And when I get there and he's sending me text messages about how badly I behaved, I indulged in a text fight for awhile, then realized that I was having a good time at the wedding and told him I didn't want to deal with him now because I was enjoying myself. I was even more pissed off that he would feel the need to lash out at my reaction DURING the fucking wedding. Felt like he was trying to make sure that I didn't have fun. I also got pissed when he told me that he felt that I reacted badly. I didn't curse him out, or scream, or anything of the sort. I just calmly told him that I didn't want him to come with me. When he texted to tell me that my reaction and choice not to have him come was not cool- I told him that I would rather be at the wedding alone than have him with me and be pissed off the whole time because of unresolved issues. Sure the issue is still unresolved but because he wasn't sitting next to me I was able to put it aside and actually enjoy myself.

I know that I made the right decision telling him not to come with me but I know that today is a new day and eventually I'm going to have to deal with my anger at him...

A Bitch Is Back With Rats & Whatnot

The Rat

So I'm at Nostrand Avenue train station, which is just about as bad as Utica for sighting rats.  I'm walking toward the back of the Express platform because even though I need the local, I know that downstairs is like, I can't even come up with something its like cause its like nothing else you've ever seen.  Rats every fucking where.  And bold as shit too, don't think that stomping your foot is going to scare them off.  So, I'm walking towards the back of the train and I see dude sitting there and I'm thinking that I sure as fuck wouldn't be sitting on the stairs with as many rats as there are at Nostrand.  And just as I think that I see a rat by the edge of the platform.  I'm still kinda far, Nostrand Ave is a long ass station, but it looks like the rat is closer to me than the man is.  So I keep walking and as is my way, my mind starts to wonder.  Where the fuck it goes, I haven't the foggiest, so if you come across it, just make sure it doesn't cause too much damage.  (I was going to say trouble, but you were expecting that weren't you?)

I had my iPod with me so I'm sure I was singing along to something.  All of a sudden I see the man jump up about 5 feet in the air and I see the rat running away.  What.  The. Fuck.  Right?  I mean did I really just see that.  Did I really just see that rat sneak up on the dude and try to crawl up his shorts?!?  Yes.  The.  Fuck.  I.  Did.  And nearly passed the fuck out for him.  I mean the leap in the air, in retrospect, was hilarious.  But I couldn't even laugh because I was so fucking disgusted.  So dude says to me, "You didn't just see that!  You can not tell anyone one that you saw me scream like a girl."  And I'm all private school snarky ass black chick with the, "Seriously are you kidding me?!?  It was a fucking rat in your pants!   I sooooo saw that and I'm soo writing about it on my blog!"

The Whatnot

If you were wondering where I've been, I was severely depressed after LadyShay came to New York, turned me on to the ways of Sapphic love and then abandoned me.  After which I briefly stalked Taimak from the Last Dragon, which lead me to discover the death of Julius Carry which further deepened my depression.  The situation was further exacerbated (whoa, I spelled that right on the first try- and I'm about to use it correctly!) when I discovered that two of the most disgusting, unattractive people I know are getting married (If a woman who has no problem spreading her thighs on the beach so that she can pick at her numerous razor bumps and I guy who has so many cavities that he doesn't even have to open his mouth for you to see them can find love, why the fuck can't I?  Probably cause my ass is way too picky for some of these half assed dudes...) The depression abruptly lifted upon discovering the deliciousness that is Peaches (a restaurant) and smothering my blues in copious amounts of Chicken Fried Chicken from the Comfort Diner, Bacon Cheeseburgers and fries from 5 Guys (I am obsessed with 5 Guys - The Artist calls them crackburgers), spoiling my Mom with a Mojito soaked lunch at Cabana, discovering the funnocity that is Wii, washing an incredibly big dog who hates water and throwing myself into my work.  You would think that I'd have gained some weight, but you'd be wrong, tummy's still 100 good sit ups away from a 6 pack.  Ahh it is wonderful to be naturally thin. (and don't worry that food was supplemented with organic heart healthy oatmeal for breakfast and plenty of fruits and vegetables!)  

Smooches Hooches!

Dance MonkeyGirl Dance!

I think I owe you guys about two weeks worth of stories.  The week before last, the weather was so nice that I spent as much time as possible outside.  I spent alot of time being Mommy's garden bitch.  But I also went to the Spring recitals at MonkeyGirls school.  She goes to a school that has programs for both the performing and graphic arts and I think thats great.  I also think that its great that they do not let the children preform if their grades are not up to par.  What I don't think is cool is that there were soooo many children in the audience last time I was there (poor grades.)  What I don't like is that they teach them how to preform, but they don't teach them anything about public speaking.  You get these amazing dancers and singers who had the opportunity to preform at DisneyWorld , graceful as shit til its time for them to tell you about their trip.  Um, ah, em, ummm.  That shit was working my last nerve.

What I also don't like is that had the performance been last week, instead of the week before, MonkeyGirl would have not been able to perform.  Little chit failed her Social Studies test.  I had brought her a new swimsuit but shes not getting shit til she gets her act together.

Also that week was Spring Break for public school kids in Connecticut so Cousin T's lil Cuz C (LCC) was in town.  She's the same age as Monkeygirl and has to be my second favorite 13 year old girl.  She's got 3 brothers, one older and two younger, and I've always loved her for her girly tomboy ways.  Now that she's thirteen, she's also gorgeous, not that she wasn't beautiful before but its become very apparent that her and MonkeyGirl aren't lil girls anymore.  Makes me feel old as shit and hella protective.

So you can imagine my reaction when some lil shits were sitting behind LCC at the performance and were clearly talking shit.  LCC being 13, decided to sit behind us, rather than with us.  She was steadily ignoring that shit, like a junior Bad Bitch, but I was about to jump outta my skin at those lil hating asses.  Cousin T must have read my mind cause she got up and went and sat with LCC with a well heard, "Let me go sit with LCC before I have to knock out someone's child."

Dear Plasma de fuckwit,

likeable my ass!  you obviously didn't read shit.  I'm a little cocky mouthy broad with a shit load of opinions if you really care to know.  I don't give a fuck about being likeable.  Add that shit to your blogroll and smoke it

Hugs and kisses,

Trouble

The Where I Was...

So last week was ab-so-lute-ly gorgeous in NYC.  I'm talking perfect late spring type weather.  (If you're not from NYC, than that means upper 70s and sunny, slightly cool at night.)  So I spent alot of time out of doors.  I spent about two days giving Duke a shape up.  Of course, a week later and he looks like he could use another trim.  Then I spent an afternoon with Mommy at our local Lowe's Home Improvement.  I found a exotic houseplant whose common name is Lipstick Rasta so of course I had to get it.  Not to mention that its tendrils look like my hair when I put it in curls.  I paid for Mommy's lil Lowe's adventure and she thanked me for her Mother's Day gift. 

For the past couple of years, I haven't remembered when Mother's Day is.  So instead of missing it and being a jerk, I always try and buy Mommy something in early April just to be safe.  As it turns out, thats also the time that Mommy starts to plan out her garden for the summer, so I usually end up getting her plants or garden related items.  Now when ever I buy her any thing of that sort during the month of April, she adds it to the Mother's Day gift list.  She kind of gets over.

So then the next day we spent in the garden together, planting all the shit she got.  I'm not allowed to plant things with out her permission and can only plant things in the places that she designates.  She's a really strict gardener and shamelessly uses me for cheap labor.  On the up side, my ass and thighs are gonna be right for the summer.  All that damned bending, squatting, and lifting is doing a body good!

The whole time, Duke is laying in the grass doing his best impression of an urban lion.  I wish I could say that old age has mellowed him, but every time someone too rowdy got too close to the gate, he would take off like a bat out of hell and scare the crap out of them.  He finally seems to have tuckered himself out, and here comes this little boy from up the block.  I'm hidden behind one of Mommy's ginormous evergreen bushes, and I hear him say to Mommy, "Excuse me miss, where's your dog?"  Mommy points to Duke, splayed out in the grass, and right on cue, he yawns huge at the kid and rolls his eyes.  I love that dog!

And of course after all that time outside, my hair was dirty.   Didn't smell of anything, but I had been sweating and I can't stand nasty dreads.  Since I was at it I put the curls back in.  That shit took forevah, but they look amazing, if I must say so myself.  Then I made lemon cupcakes with raspberry buttercream icing.  I have to admit that I ate most of them myself, but I did give two to Cousin T, Mommy ate probably one less than I did, and I gave one to Hautechick and one to the Artist.  Everyone loved them, except for Hautechick, the asshole.  I'm on the phone talking to her about the Tupperware that Cousin T brought me (its a cupcake carrier!) and she says, "Why would Cousin T buy something for you?  Oh and I meant to tell you your cupcakes were dry."  I said, "What?!" to give the insensitive chit a chance to rephrase and she says, "your cupcakes were dry"  I hung up on her ass and she has the nerve to call me back and then leave a message repeating that she thought my cupcakes were dry, "since you didn't let me finish."

April Showers

This past Sunday was the first Brooklyn Flea Market.  Going to the flea market with my Mom and Hautey as a kid rates high as one of my favorite things to do as a child.  I even remember going with my Dad and buying pickles from the pickle man.  Dude would be out there (we mostly went to the one at Aquaduct Racetrack, but there were a few others) with like 12 huge barrels filled with different types of pickles.  Daddy used to let me choose my own, but he always let me taste his.  Then there was the sausage and peppers truck, and the zeppole man.  Oh, and the lady with the cheesecakes.  And the italian ices and candied apples.  And occasionally I could talk someone into letting me get cotton candy.  Needless to say, food played a major part in my flea market experiences and thusly (ha! I said thusly!) I really liked going.

So maybe two weeks ago, Mommy's reading the paper and she comes across an article about the new Flea Market thats coming to Brooklyn to be held on the track field at Bishop Laughlin Memorial High School.  Mommy told me that all of the spaces for the first flea market had already been filled with some pretty fancy vendors including that truck that makes belgian waffles.  The whole shebang was put together by  Brownstoners so I figured it wouldn't be anything like the pickle and sweat sock extravaganza's of my youth.  So Mommy called Hautey and we all decided to go together.  Jeanie was chilling with her girls!

The day started off wonderfully, Mommy made Buttermilk Waffles (from scratch cause you know I had to get that shit from somewhere) on her old fashion waffle iron.  You know the kind thats really iron or some other metal, and heavy enough to put a serious dent in someones skull.  The kind you put directly on the burner.  Damn those things were good!  Duke even got one.  Then we hopped in a cab, picked up Hautey and were on our way!

Now, after it all being said and done, theres something to be said for the pickle and sweat sock experience.  What good is a flea market if you have to empty out your savings account to pay for the stuff you like?  I mean the lady with the Marrameko fabric was great.  And so was the lady with the homemade ricotta cheese - I think I just read about her in New York Magazine, Hautey got some and is making me really jealous that I didn't buy some.  And I saw some really cool doors - but the thing about the doors is that some contractor probably ripped them off of some sweet old womans house calling himself doing her a favor and getting her a brand new (ie cheap) door and hauling the old messes away.  But what that sweet old woman doesn't know is, he's gonna strip them, clean them and sell them at a flea market for $4,500 (or was it $5400?).  Then I saw some really nice Danish Modern furniture that I think I might have seen on ebay for half the price.  Oh, and lets not forget the stalls and stalls and stalls of so called "unique" baby clothes.  Cause lord forbid we dress our hipster children in the Gap or some other chain store or brand name!  We want our children to be individuals!  So they all wear the same damned white onesie with a screen print of some old school headphones on it.  Or a microphone.  Or a skateboard.  Or an urban skyline.  Or a stylized monkey - wait, that one was hella cute actually.  But my point is the were all the phucking same you morons!  And I haven't brought for babies lately, but I'm petty sure the onsies are less expensive at the Gap.  Sheet you really wanna be unique buy some white onsies and screenprint them bitches yourself!  Some stiff cardboard, an exacto knife and a little fabric paint and BAM! one of a kind baby onsie.  It's not rocket science.

On the upside, there was no fighting or bickering or name calling.  Even Mommy behaved.  And we walked home so we were all pretty pooped come evening.  But I'm still kinda pissed I didn't get a pickle.

The Skin I'm In

• lots and lots of water, I drink that is.  Plus the MAC doesn't hurt a bit
• speaking of makeup, the handle on my makeup train case broke this morning and I'm really sad about it, I think I'm going to take it to the shoemaker since its leather and see if he can fix it.
• remember I used to do those post on things that every woman needs?  well I just thought of another one, a really good old school shoe maker.  They can take the calf of your boots in, or if they are really good make them a little bigger.  Stretch your too tight leather shoes (or do it yourself with some wooden shoe trees and some rubbing alcohol) fix the run down heel on your favorite shoes, replace a worn down sole, fix the leather strap on a makeup case, at least I hope so
• i actually had a really bad case of the chickenpox when I was in the 4th grade.  So bad that I missed the last month and a half of school.  I still have the dots all over including one on my right cheek and a couple on my nose.  They just dont show up in pictures for some reason.  Then again people usually think they're birthmarks...
• speaking of the chickenpox, did I ever mention that I have a half brother?  He's a real shit.  Anyway when I got the chickenpox, he was in the Marines and he came to see me when he was home on leave.  that would have been strange considering that we spent hardly any time together when I was a kid, but our dad had just passed away the year before, so he was trying to pretend that he's not an asshat.  Anywho, guess who gave the fucktard the chickenpox and guess who ended up in military quarantine for 2 months?
• and continuing on the theme of my shitwit brother, have I ever mentioned that I'm an aunt?  dont think so.  well anyway come to find out I'm an aunt again.  How did I find out?  My buppy cousin gets an email birth announcement from Shitwits (I really like that one, and it really fits my brother) wife, Shitwitta (shes an ass too), so she forwards it to my Mom, who checks her email like maybe 4 times a month (and that does not mean once a week) who mentions it to me last week.  The kid, a boy, was born on Valentines day.
• my home phone went out this weekend, actually all three lines in the house were acting wonky, so Mommy called Verizon and they said they would be here on Monday morning.  wait I should correct that, the first dumbass broad that answered the phone told Mommy that it must be a problem with one of our phones.  I said that was bullshit and told Mommy to call them back (after she made me check all the jacks - good thing the designers of this house were asses and there are only three of them, one on each floor) and THEN they said they would come on Monday.  And what a day Monday was...
• I'm knocked the fuck out, and I kinda hear Mommy's line ringing on Monday morning, but I rolled over and what do you know, it stops.  then my cell phone rings, it the verizon guy and he's outside.  oops!  So I throw on some sweat pants and a hoodie and answer the door.  Hello!  I was for a minute regretting my choice of attire when I realized that the sweats are kinda low rise and show off my flat belly very nicely and actually make me look like I have hips!  it didn't turn into anything but flirting, but that was my choice.  he called me once after he left to make sure that everything was ok, then he stopped by a little later to "make sure."
• so the verizon guy leaves and Mommy comes home and says, "huh, i thought that they were going to come and read the meter today." and right on cue the door bell rings.  I'm right there, so even though this is something that Mommy usually does, I answer the door.  First off, by this time Duke is pretty sick and tired of getting locked up everytime someone comes to the door, so he sticks his snooze in the door and follows me out into the vestibule.  Good thing I hadn't yet answered the front door.  So after a brief yet frenzied battle with the hairy beast I answer the door.  Dog hair everywhere and a tall young cutie here to read the meter!  Sheesh!  That boy better be happy Mommy was home cause I was seriously thinking about jumping the young man right there in the basement.
• My god daughter is going to be 13 on Thursday!  She wants a Sidekick and/or to go to Dave and Busters with a crew.  I'm all for the Sidekick - shes a good kid and she doesn't have a cell phone, but me and Cousin T had a long ass talk about the Dave and Busters thingamajig.
• I was in Filene's Basement shopping for MonkeyGirl's birthday and I saw the most adorable Ralph Lauren baby girl clothes.  I really was debating with myself if I should buy something for NewBabyGirl, SuperSlag's newest kid, but I decided against it.  She'll take it as were cool again and as always expect more.  It tears me up that I can't buy something for the kid without her Mom trying to hit me up for more.

The Prostitute and the Politician

A case could be made for either being the world's oldest profession.  On the one hand, you have the men and women who seek to govern others, to rule in a sense over the masses.  And on the other, you have the men and women who seek to please, to pleasure and submit to the masses.  Or in some cases to pleasure and submit to the elite.  As much as we've seen Elliot Spitzer or H. Carl McCall(to those not from NYC, both are local politicians) on tv, we see the residents of the Bunny Ranch and others making a quick buck off of sex.  

Personally, I've never bought nor paid for sex.  But to be perfectly honest, I really can't knock the hustle of someone who can get paid $5,000 for an hour of their time.  Of course it is much more than an hour of time that they are giving up in exchange.  But with some control and intelligence, I can see how someone could use being a prostitute to become something more.  Hell, shorty in the news right now, wasn't very smart at all and already the offers are pouring in.  Then there was the former call girl who wrote that book.  I read it and to be honest it was so dry that I can't even remember the name of the book or the author.  Nor do I care to take the time and look them up.  But the point is, she managed to not only get out, get married, and get a book deal, but to also be completely honest about what she did without anyone turning their nose down (too much) at her past.

A bad politician, one who lets secrets slip, who goes after people who are supposed to be his betters, who comes off as a self righteous prick, who goes against the grain, who offers up motions and ideas that no one wants anything to do with, who can't balance an enormous budget.  Well there's really no redeeming the politician now is there?  No one ever says, "Oh, poor little politician, s/he was just young and naive and got taken advantage of. They just used her/him like a pawn!"  No one ever feels sorry for the ex politician like they would for the ex prostitute. 

SuperSlag Update

I actually spent about 2 hours with my worthless cousin yesterday. Cousin T was there to make sure she didn't say something she might regret, and that I didn't choke the shit out of her on gp. I also finally got to meet her new daughter. She's looks a lot like her older sister did when she was that age. But she's having problems pooping. Usually I dont talk about baby poop but I'm putting it out there cause child is not at all happy.

Seems that the formula that she's on (I'm all for breast feeding!) has a lot of iron in it. Plus something else that she takes has a lot of iron in it, so shes all backed up. Someone (ghetto) suggested that she put some soap up the baby's butt, but that just seems wrong to me on sooo many levels. I mean, soap kinda burns doesn't it? There's got to be something a little more natural and less burny than soapy for the little monkey, right? So any suggestions on how to get a backed up baby to poop?

The reason that SuperSlag and I were together was to go to her sons basketball game. He was supposed to have 2 games yesterday, one at 12 and another at 2. We get there at 2 and SS dont know where the game is going to be at. We finally get in touch with SuperSlags ex and he tells us the games, both of them, are already over. Way to keep track asshat! I mean I know you have the baby and all, but you can't write the information down on a calender or someshit? What the fuck. And stop letting people put soap up your babies butt! Sheesh!

Jump on it in the morning and ride it til the night...

...wanna give you real jewelry so when it hits the light, bitches will momentarily lose their sight.  She said, "I know what boys like, I know what they want, they want to sex me, they think I'm sexy.  I know what boys like, boys like me."

Just a little trip back in hip hop time when I actually liked Jay-Z.  This is going to be another one of those random post that I do from time to time.  Bear with me...

 I recently realized that I've never slept with more than one man at a time.  Wait, I'm not sure how you took that, but what I mean is that if I'm sleeping with one man, I don't sleep with anyone else.  I guess you would say that I'm sexually exclusive.  I just couldn't see myself going back and forth between men.  Twins on the same night at the same time, now thats another dirtier story.  I don't expect my lovahs to be sexually exclusive, but I do expect them to be discreet and most importantly clean.  Dont you ever fucking come to my house smelling like some other woman or just as bad, you own funky ass.

I thought I lost my The Incredibles DVD.  I love that movie!  Shit, who am I kidding I love Pixar almost as much as I love Jim Henson and thats saying alot if you know how I feel about the Muppets.  Speaking of the Muppets, I just got The Muppets Take Manhattan on dvd!  How cool is that!  (ok maybe not that cool to you, but cool as shit to me! fuck you very much if you think I'm a dork.  But I'm pretty sure dorks don't have head game like I do...)

Speaking of head game (is it wrong to segue from Muppets to Blowjobs?) can I just say as a woman, that I actually do quite enjoy the power of giving a blowjob.  The feel of having something so vulnerable yet so hard in the palm of my hand.  Doing just the right thing to make him hiss and that extra swirl of the tongue that will having him calling out.  If you're a woman and you're thinking that its an act of submission, than sweetie, you really haven't been doing it right.  And to the maybe 3 straight guys that may be reading this, if you learned to really enjoy eating the puss, (that is if you already don't) you'd probably get a hell of a different reaction than if you just eat it cause you think its what she wants you to do it.  If you don't enjoy it, chances are you're partner won't enjoy it either.

Sorry I haven't been around the blog world lately, I've been off playing with a boy.  Well at least part of the time.  I've also been cleaning this sty I call an apartment, fine tuning my resume (I should start sending it out by Wednesday) and trying to groom Duke.  It took me about 4 hours just to give him a really good brushing.  Then I spent another hour using the undercoat rake.  Then I needed a break so the next day I got started with the clippers, and we were doing pretty good until I tried to cut him back left leg.  He didn't want me on that side.  So I was pretty tired and said I would try the next day.  But then it snowed.  And since we live on the corner and own the lot next door I had to shovel all of that shit and I think I pulled something.  So the haircut is incomplete.  He looks alot better, but my back is fucking killing me from the snow shoveling.  Then it had the fucking nerve to rain the next day and most of that fuck ass snow disappeared and today it was in the 60s!?!  Fucking weetodd weather, I blame it on the industrial revolution.  Fucked up weather, cancer and pollution.  What a great fucking time in history that was...

KoC - King of Crap

The King of Crap, cockblocker extraordinaire, was a guy that I used to see.  We met through mutual friends when I was about 22, it didn't work and he would put his bid in just about everytime we saw each other.  I was hesitant to start seeing him again because he's a bitch when it comes to running his mouth.  He once told one of my associates (not a close friend by any means) that I was amazing in bed.  Which lead to about a year and half of all the women that I hung out with speculating about how many men I had been with and odd questions at random times like, "when did you lose your virginity?"  "ever been with two men?"  "ever had sex with a woman?"  all of which were met with a why, their usual response being "Oh I was just curious."  Some women were stupid enough to follow that up with, "well?" to which they got a cocked eyebrow, a partial sneer and a "none of your fucking business."

But I figured that we had both not only gotten older, but that we had both matured.  I was really wrong about that.  We were together about 3 months last year before I made his ringer silent.  But it appears that he is making another play.  It started about two weeks ago when I got a call from a number that looked kind of familiar but I couldn't place.  I still haven't put my old contacts into my new cell phone.  

"Good Afternoon"

"Hey, Happy New Year"

"Thanks, who's this?"

"I'm afraid if I tell you, you'll hang up."

"Who is this?"

"King of Crap"

"Well you had that one right." CLICK!

Later that day I got a text message "Aren't you ever going to forgive me?  Damn your mean"  Oh, yeah insulting me has always been such a turn on for me, idjeet.  To KoC, if I'm angry, the answer is to leave me alone and let me get over or forget that I was angry.  I feel for it once, when I forgot why I stopped seeing him the first time (I still dont really remember), and I guess he figures that I'll go for it again.  There have been a couple of phone calls that I didn't answer in the following weeks.  But last night, he called me at 1 in the morning!  Did he think he might be able to finaggle some ass?  Was he trying to cockblock in case I had someone else over?  What the fuck was he thinking?  I WILL NOT let my curiousity get the better of me, and I can't even engage in the "stop fucking calling me!" convo.

KoC is the type of man who thinks that a woman doesn't care for him if she doesn't raise her voice at least once a week.  So I can't even go there without it giving him hope.  Besides, I got no time to be wasting yelling at a grown man.  When we last broke up, it was because he not only stood me up on Friday, but he didn't even call me until Sunday.  His excuse "Oh well I went out after work with some co-workers and I got drunk and I totalled my car and I forgot I was supposed to take you out.  My back really hurts can I come over so you can rub it?"  I'll admit, I lost it.  I called him all kinds of fuckers and shits and bitches.  I yelled, I screamed, I told him 12 different ways that I could not be involved with a man who was soo irresponsible and all that got through to him was that I really must care about him cause he finally got me to yell at him.  Fucktard.

The Brush Off

I like my space when it comes to men.  If you're looking for a woman who will call you 4 and 5 times a day, I'm not the one for you.  Sheeet, if you're looking for a woman who will call you everyday, I still might be the one for you.  I've yet to meet the man that inspires that kind of behavior.  Just the same, if you call ME 5 times a day, you're going to quickly get on my nerves.  Specially if you really don't have anything to say...

So things with Big Mr. Bad have been going downhill for a minute.  It started with him giving me an itemized description of his bills the same evening that he found out that I got my paycheck.  (Like I give a fuck what some dude I met 3 weeks ago has to pay for his cell phone!?!)  It continued when he called to ask me out last Tuesday.  Sounds like that would be a good thing, but it wasn't.  You see, when we first started "talking", I told Big Mr. Bad that my pet peeve with men is that they start thinking that the sex is enough to keep me and stop taking me out.  "Oh no, that will never happen with me!  I love to go out."  Uh, huh.  Cause we've actually only been on one date so far.

So he calls me at around 6:30 pm.  The cell phone is downstairs and I'm upstairs, so I don't hear it.  I go downstairs at around 7:30 and my phone is ringing, its Hautechick.  I get off the phone with her and see that Big Mr. Bad has called me 5 times.  I'm about to check the message when he calls again.  (sidenote - I had food poisoning last weekend (DAMN YOU RED LOBSTER!) and Big Mr Bad knew I still wasn't feeling well)  "Hey, where have you been?!" (is that a slight attitude I detect?) "My uncle got some last minute tickets to a comedy show tonight.  Can you be ready in 20 minutes?"  Uh, "No."

What part of I've been throwing up all weekend and haven't eaten solid food do you not understand?  No.  And 20 minutes?!?  Some notice that is.  Granted he had tried to reach me earlier, but the voicemail revealed that he didn't mention anything about tickets or a comedy show, just asked me to call him back.

Then comes The Call.  You know, the lets beat around the bush and not really say anything but I think you might not like that much anymore and I wanna ask you what I'm doing wrong but I'm a chickenshit call.  The hemming and hawing is not at all masculine.  When I say, "Is there something on your mind?" thats your cue to tell me what the fuck is on your mind!  So when he didn't say anything other than, "I've got alot on my mind I guess and I can't sleep."  I said something along the lines of "Well listening to you breathe is putting me to sleep, so I'll talk to you tomorrow."  I didn't expect him to call me at 7 fucking 45 in the morning. (for those that missed it, I sorta kinda don't have to work for awhile and I basically sleep til noon) Naturally I ignored that shit.

He called back at about 1, I just missed it and returned the call.  "Hey, I just got busy, I'll call you back in about 5 minutes."  Oh-kay!  Except, he didn't call me back for about 4 hours and by that time I was basically through.  He's done that a couple of times.  Tell me he'll call me back in 5 minutes when he really means 5 hours.  Just say later idiot and it wouldn't piss me off.  But it does.  Piss me off that is.  He leaves a message, "Hey, give me a call when you get this."  I went about my business that night and went to sleep.  The next morning, its deja vu all over again.  7 fucking 45 in the morning and this fool is calling me.  No message.  Now he's really starting to get on my nerves.  Long story a little shorter, I spent Thursday afternoon getting massages with Ripeshit aka Hautechick (see Lil Sister Blues below) and was pretty much out of the house and running around with either her or my Mom from Thursday at 1:30 til midnight Saturday morning.  In that span of time, Big Mr. Bad called me a total of 24 times.  (only 3 voicemails)  

That really put me off, so I answered the phone when he called on Saturday evening.  (I didn't count the 9 times he called me on Saturday in the previous total.)  "Do you realize how many times you've called me in the last 2 days?"  "Alot"  "yeah, what the hell is up with that?"  "I was worried about you."  "You never left a message to that affect."  "Well, no..." "It was my sisters birthday, not that I owe you an explanation, especially when I told you we had some stuff planned earlier in the week." "Oh! I forgot, I'm sorry"  "Yeah we'll its not cool with me, that shits not cool at all.  I think you need to take a step back." "Uh..." "I'll Call You, if I change how I feel.  Ok?"  "Uh"  "Ok!?!" "Ok..." Click.

What set me off...

you might want to take a look at the definition of defamation.  and by the by it would be comprehends, not has comprehension.

Listen Trouble.  You said that it was 'one-sided' ...I will repost everything, because I clipped it.  Think for two seconds that neither of us had colour.  I apologized to Pretty on her blog for my behalf and if this has turned into a laughing matter between all of you, that is fine.

Trouble, it was not your place to get in our argument.

As for visiting blogs, I came to yours constantly, and left comments.  You only came to mine recently and then you have been acting like I am a leper.  I don't care.

And from what I just read that Anners posted, it looks like a bunch of you are talking smack about me (how mature!). You have my email.  Write me.  Or post it on your blog.  I read it.  Do not speak of me as if I don't exist.  I have never seen anyone turn their attitude as quickly as you, Trouble, and I really thought highly of you at one point.

If PB don't want to come back, not many of us knew her anyways.  She never made it a point to come to my blog and still never could answer the 'loopy' question. Look back and tell me one reference to my medications making me loopy.  Try not to be so one-sided yourself, Trouble.

I don't even have a problem with PB because I never knew her.  I didn't get a chance to meet her...but you...I can't believe your ways.  But it's the internet.

Maybe Anners, in some small way, is playing you, but in a mature way, and let's pretend I am PB.

Don't worry, when I am done with the CSS here, I am going to start on my blog and if you like I will send you an invite to see how I really, really, really feel.

This comment was posted on TypHo Boulevard prior to the posts below.  Of course you can no longer find it on there because someone erased it.  Anyone else remember the Pink Elephant post?

I Usually Don't Do This...

...eh I'm lying!  If you knew me, you would know that I'm hell on wheels when it comes to research.  If you knew me, you would know that I don't change shit.  I wasn't the one removing multiple post over on the Boulevard.  If you knew me, you would know that I don't give a fuck what you think Harlequin.  You know me like I know Brittney Spears, I comments on what she presents to the public but at the end of the day, Brittney don't give a fuck about what I think about her and I could give half a fuck what you think about me.  Comments once a week for two months does not mean you know me Harlequin.  As for the statement that you made about me not participating on your blog, your full of shit.  Lets go see.  Oh wait how fucking convenient, the Gazette has been erased!  No matter, I have a good fucking memory, unlike some people.  Shall I talk about your medicine cabinet?  Too recent?  How about the novenas and drinking holy water? Or how about the post you wrote to your husband when he was on the road?  I hate to break it to you but you blog was never private and to assume that others didn't see it is ridiculous.  But that seems to be your thing, ridiculousness.

You stated that you thought people were talking about you behind you back.  Where?  I said my piece and I haven't changed it.  Its on my blog exactly how it was published.  Why is it that when you first read it, you immediately came back to the Bouley and said that you wanted to apologize to PB?  Now all of a sudden you think your tough and want to pop shit?  Fine, since you dont seem to remember what you said, or what other people have said, I've made you a little something.  Mind you this took me about 5 minutes to do, and I only went back to the 16th.  Ain't it a bitch when your words come back to bite you on the ass....

.

..Don't worry, you can come over to the medicine cabinet you saw anytime, and don't forget there is shit in the fridge too!  I got medicine from A-Z.  I just refuse to share any of the narcs.  I didn't know the going rate on the *insert narcotic name here* on the streets.  Shit, that would be my ticket to a Chanel in 30 seconds or less.  (I kid, I kid!)

Harlequin on TypHo Boulevard January 16th

Vagisil, I don't have feelings.  I am not sensitive.  If you grew up the way I did, feelings were laughed at and not allowed.  Believe me, I am not in anyway sensitive.  Besides, I know what you are about, so I don't even get offended.  So stop!

Harlequin on TypHo Boulevard January 16th 

By the way I'm pretty sure that the 16th was the day before the LoopySpice Post, wait that last quote gets better, right Harley?

30 seconds later, after a comment by Afro...

Child abuse is funny?  Afro, I am 30 years old and over the holidays, my momma punched me and smacked me in the mouth with a shoe.  I ain't never struck her though, but if she wasn't a cripple, I would have killed her.

Very rational thought there Harley, and excellent comprehension level since Afro was quoting Strangers with Candy.  I don't even have cable and yet I knew he was trying to lighten the mood.

What I was responding to with my Tribute to Pretty Black post, was the fact that on the post where Anners announced that PB would no longer be on the Bouley, instead of leaving it as a goodbye, it turned into a condemnation.  Why is it that you think that it is ok for Anners to comment on the situation but not me?  Wait you need a quote...

Jezzy... it's sad that she couldn't simply understand that what she said was mean.  You're not to blame...

Posted by Anners on January 18th

You wanna go erase some more shit off the Bouley Harley?  Cause I'll wait.  I never changed my comment after Anners did the TypHo post.  I believe there are ways to check that.  But you sure did change your shit real quick.  Good thing you can't change your comments on Snarky.  Hey lets post them!  And by the by, there are alot more loopy quotes from you but hopefully this will get you to Shut The Fuck Up!

Bullshit and Fuckery

If anyone has a problem with me, fucking say that shit in the comments and stop beating around the fucking bush.  Grow the fuck up people!  

So let me get this straight.  I'm not allowed to come to the defense of people I like?!?

Yeeeeeoooooouuuuuccchh!

I SLAMMED MY POINTER FINGER IN A FUCKING CAR DOOR!  And I was drunk enough that I didn't really feel it.  But it was gross looking.  So I cleaned it and slapped a bandaid on it.  I don't know, I've always had a thing for bandaids.  When I was little I used to sneak them out of the medicine cabinet and put them on myself.  In the morning, I used to take the off before Mommy or Daddy found them.  But of course they always did when the changed my sheets.  Anyway now my finger is starting to throb.  And its my right finger too!  I need that finger!  And that means I won't be able to change my polish for a while cause the gash is right under my nail.  At least it's good polish, Chanel.  I don't care what anyone says, that shit is worth the money.  Goes on smoother, dries a lil quicker, last a lil longer.  If you can afford it try it.  Shit, I got distracted!  What the fuck was this lil rant about again?  Oh yes, my fucking pointer finger and how I fucked it up.  I deserve some chocolate for my pain....

I drank the effing milk!!!

so I wander into Mommy's apartment this morning and she's making pancakes.  Mmmmm, Mommy makes the best pancakes!  So I'm hungry.  But then she says to me, "Why didn't you tell me the milk was bad"  And I'm all "the milk was bad?!?"  and she's all "yeah it was thick as shit, you didn't notice?"

So now I feel sick cause I put it in my tea! (I don't drink coffee, I'm hyper enough as it is! and it gives me a tummy ache)  I frothed it so I didn't notice that it was bad.  Which is really strange cause I'm usually the one that is like, "this smells funny" two days before everyone else.  And even though it was over 24 hours ago, I swear I'm about to be sick!  So I haven't eaten yet today.

I think I'll go eat a Sweetie

Tiki's Turn

So I let Leggs do the 7 things about me post and now Tiki is jealous.  So here she is with 7 things that you may not know about my silly side...

1. When I was 3, I got my head stuck in a banister.  Still can't figure out how I got my head in there (my head always looks really BIG in pictures from when I was little) but I scared the crap out of Mommy.  She screamed and screamed until Aunt Bling came upstairs and helped to grease my head up...
2. I once almost drowned in a bubble bath that my cousins (Superslag and CoHo) were taking.  I don't remember this, but apparently I was about 2 and was fascinated with bubbles...
3. Clowns used to scare the crap out of me as a wee one.  And men on stilts, I was not a fun kid to take to the circus.  I would scream my head off just about the entire time
4. When I was 9 I almost drowned at Sesame Place.  I went down the water slide and I was having the time of my life til I hit the water.  I remember very vividly watching the lifeguards hand reaching down to me under the water.  Even after the near misses, I love the water
5. You know how some people can make a U out of their tongues?  Well I can make a W! (this might be something thats best explained in person) 
6. I used to make up songs as a kid and I would walk around all day singing to myself.  Never really had a problem entertaining myself, which is bad cause I never really felt pressure to make friends.  But since I can't stand to see people be uncomfortable (which alot of kids are when they don't know anyone), I usually befriended those kids.
7. I had my first fist fight in the 2nd grade.  Daddy was sick and this fat dumb bitch named Rebecca thought it would be a good time to pick on me.  We were in the auditorium after lunch (do they still play movies in public school after lunch?) and Rebecca said something about me being flat chested.  And I might have come back with something about her not having tits, she was just fat, and she decided she was feeling froggy and jumped.  Weeeeeeeeelll that was also the day that I found out that not only do I talk alot of shit, but I can back it up!  Since there was an auditorium full of kids that said that Rebecca started the fight, I never got in trouble, but her father did try to intimidate me one day after school, I told Mommy and she got all in his ass and the teachers for pointing me out to him.

           BONUS:  I used to be obsessed with telephones!  My Aunt Bling used to work for the telephone company so she had of these fancy phones in her apartment.  Good thing for her that telephone employees used to get free long distance calling, cause I was a dialing fool!  

           I was also quite the little thief, as a toddler I used to take people's earrings and necklaces off, mostly without them noticing.

Ollie Ollie Oxen Free!

Soooo Shay Shay La Femme (of The Skirkle - private blog, sorry!) has tagged Leggs Diamond.  If you're not familiar with blogger tag, you get tagged, you share 7 things about yourself on your blog and you tag some other people that you would like to know more about.  Since LadyShay picked Leggs and not Trouble, I'm gonna let Leggs take over....

hello darlings!  So Shay would like to know 7 delectable things about Leggs Diamond.  Oh where to begin

1. I love to dress up.  I'm not talking about a nice dress and some heels, well I do like to dress up that way too.  But I'm talking about in the bedroom.  Wigs, costumes, dance wear (i.e. stripper gear), impossibly high heels, shit I even have a pair of butterfly wings!  I recently rocked some leather look leggings, a cashmere halter and some 6 inch stiletto slides (I really need to get a new pair of the furry kind.)  And then there was the gym class hero outfit; some cheeky little gym shorts (I brought a size too small, navy blue with orange), with footless fishnets (orange), a tight and tiny wife beater (orange), and some Michael Kors stiletto slides that I can't walk in (orange suede.)
2. I think women are beautiful.  I have no problem if a man wants to watch a porno, but the chick in it better be cute as hell, otherwise you run the risk of me snarking on her the whole "film."  And on the same subject, just because its your fantasy to be with two women, does not mean its mine.  I have no problem looking at another women, but I'll be damned if I stick my face in her cooch!  Penis fascinates me in large part because I don't have one.  Can't say the same about pussy...
3. I do however have a fantasy that involves me and two very gorgeous men.  We're (THIS PORTION HAS BEEN REMOVED BY TROUBLE TO PROTECT SOME SMALL SHRED OF DECENCY ON THIS DAMNED THING! )
4. A dude I was seeing once asked me to put on a strap on and make him my bitch.  He didn't say "make me your bitch" but thats what I heard, so I passed.  It's not that I have anything against anal sex, (and yes Afro, Leggs knows that a prostate is the same on a man and a woman) but I really didn't know dude like that.  Maybe if he had waited a month or two...
5. Speaking of anal, I don't do booty duty.  Do enjoy a stiff finger every now and again, but I feel like I should have something that I saved for my husband.  That is if he wants it.  Strange I know...
6. I don't swallow either!  I think I've made this clear so this will be a freebee.  Ok, well there was that one time, but I was drunk, which was a bad thing for him when I gagged that shit back up in his lap!  I kid you not.  I spit that shit, and what I think was a little vodka, right back at his ass.  Don't try coming in my face either, unless you want me to take a bite out of your shit!
7. I love a talker, but just don't say anything ridiculous, cause I will crack the fuck up.  There was the little dude that asked me to call him Big Dick Daddy - "What!?! Are you fucking kidding me?  You did not just say that shit!  You were joking right?"  Or the guy that said, "Tell me its the best you ever had!"  only to be greeted by silence.  Or my all time personal favorite, "Whose pussy is this?!"  Well it's mine tardo, "Legg's fucker, and don't make me have to tell you again!"
8. I can honestly think of only one man that I regret sleeping with.  He had been my best friend Freshman and Sophomore years.  Even punched a dude in the face for trying to play me.  Would always take me to the supermarket when he knew I wasn't eating the food at school.  Tried to teach me how to drive in his car with crappy ass brakes!  Talked him out of driving drunk one night when he could barely stand up but insisted he had to have some fried chicken from the gas station down the road (and every one else was going to let him go) 6'5" about 220 lbs and in the best damned shape of any man I've ever been with (my gawd the physique on that man!) and I loved him (not in love, but I loved him) and we slept together.  I think we giggled through the whole thing!  And then I left school to take a job in NY, but I would still travel to go and see him.  But things had changed, and suddenly he didn't get my sense of humor.  And I knew him too well, so I knew when he started seeing someone on campus.  And then he told me that he got my old roomates best friend pregnant.  And I wanted my heart to be broken, but it was so easy to tell him to "kiss my ass, you dipshit!" 

Oh, Leggs wasn't as bad as I thought she was going to be!  I do however think she has something else planned so stay tuned.  And since all of the TypHo's have been tagged.  I'm gonna go with Seattle Slim at The Beatniks, Lyrically Speaking of Lyrically I Am Yours and Girly Longings, and Mr. Swag. Game on...

Check your paycheck...

... seriously, don't take for granted that they got your shit right.  Even if you have direct deposit.  

So I decided to not go online of Friday until I finished my resume.  It seems that every time I went online to look to research something, I ended up on TypHo Blvd. (if you don't know what I'm talking about, sucks to be you!  I kid, kinda)  laughing at some crazy shit or another.  So I said no internet until I finished my revisions.  Woke up on Friday, ready to rock, check the mail, and there's my paycheck, crammed into the mail slot.  My post office is constantly pissing me off with shit like that, one of the mailmen is good, but the rest seem to be a bunch of lazy fucks.  So I'm still muttering to myself when I unwrinkle and open up the bitch and I notice something hinky.  

My fucking check is over $400 short!  What the fuck!  I pull out some old pay stubs and see what the problem is.  My state and fed are at almost %50.  So I call OfficeManager.

Troub: Hey I got my check today (snarky voiced cause she said she mailed the bitch on Tues, but it was postmarked for Wed.) and my taxes are wrong.

OfficeManager: What do you mean your taxes are wrong? (is that a slight attitude I detect?)

Troub:  My taxes are wrong.  They are taking about $500 more dollars out of my check.

OfficeManager:  Of course they're taking more, your taxes are supposed to go up every year Trouble.

At this point, I'm confused as fuck by her logic, so I tell her that I will do a little research and call her back.  Now usually, I'm a kick ass researcher, like Duke with a fucking bone, I don't let shit go.  By now your talking about my money, so its a whole nother ball game, if you feel me.  I broke my rule and went online.  Found this amazing calculator that lets you figure out how much money is supposed to be taken out in taxes from your paycheck based on your number of deductions and the state that you live in.  Figured out that I was right, they were taking almost $500 extra, which meant that I was getting taxed at about %47 percent or some shit.  Then I called the IRS.

Spoke to this very nice woman who said, "I don't think anyone has ever asked me how to figure out if they were being taxed the right amount on their paycheck."  She then pointed out that even if my taxes were to go up in 2008, the check was for the last three weeks in December.  I was too mad to realize that.  She also sent me to the pertinent pages of the tax code regulation that showed that I was being taxed too much.  I printed them out along with the calculations from the payroll calculator, and called back OfficeManager.

"Well, I have nothing to do with how much they decide to take out of your check in taxes.  If you think its wrong, why don't you call the people who process our paychecks and see if they can give you an answer you'll accept."  So thats just what I did.  Of course I got the fucktards voicemail.  I left a very professionally politely pissed message explaining the situation and asking him to get back to me on my cell phone.  Then I went and deposited the check (after scanning it onto my computer, along with a copy of the envelope showing the postmark date), and went to get a manicure and a pedicure.  I needed to calm the fuck down and that helped.

I'm getting back into the car to come home and notice I have a voicemail, the missed call log indicates its OfficeManager.  "Trouble, call me back as soon as you get this"  So I do, "Oh Trouble, you saved everyones ass! (I kid you not, I'm not exaggerating) You're the only one who caught the mistake! Well Bambi caught it but she didn't follow through..."  Come to find out, when I called the processor, he checked his records and realized that in updating our records for the new year (switching from getting paid every 4 weeks to every 2 weeks) he miscalculated everyones taxes.  And only two people in the entire company noticed.  One was too stooopid to follow up on something that she thought was wrong.  And the other (me) didn't even get her check until a full week after everyone else!

WHAT THE FUCK!  People don't check their checks?!?  When I told Hautechick about it, she admitted that she rarely if ever checks to see if the amount of her direct deposit is correct.  Don't take that shit for granted, cause next thing you know the guvment will have an extra $500 of your money, and you'll be none the wiser.  Shit, you know how much shopping damage I could do with $500?!?