Monday, March 30, 2009

Moody by design

I felt it creeping up on me all week. I wasn't sleeping well, have been traveling a lot (Four days in Nashville, Five days in Austin, One night in Detroit for being stranded there, 3 hours in Houston on account on a long ass layover, six days in Indianapolis and 8 days in Chicago) and I know my body ... and my moods. I mean, you know this about me, right? I'm kind of moody? I know, you ain't shocked. Shut up.

And then there's that JADED whose cycle is a vortex that pulls me around in mind numbing circles periodically ... so, i can always tell when that bitch is in a funk because you know what? I'm in a funk too!

She had the nerve to tell me one day that I'm on HER cycle cuz she's the man in this bitch.


I love the shit out her.

But anyway, I knew I was feeling out of whack and that I was going to be moody. The whole "thing" last night was lackluster and I'm not one to sit and wonder if things will get better. I'm moody and I don't give a shit right now. This morning he asked me if I was coming over tonight ...

Nigga, HELL NO. I hardly got any sleep. His bed is archaic and it's one of the most hugest turn offs for me. I remember this one nigga I met up with one day ... his bed was fucking HEAVEN. I wasn't really all that into him (I know, and yet I was in his bed - don't push it, I'm moody) but I kept asking him for his bed. In fact, I remember telling Jaded that I didn't want him - just his bed.

And like I really meant it.

But, oh. my. god. If you sleep on a bed that fucking creeks when you move - it's a mattress you ain't had NO BUSINESS spending money on. And I'm not playing. The whole bed thing became an issue when I was seeing this guy who invited me over to his house ... the one he was moving OUT from.

Since he was moving out, the place was in shambles - and that made sense. He had stacked all his shit on his bed to sort through it ... and I mean ALL his shit. His closet was empty but his bed was stacked with shit to the rafters. He was sleeping on an air mattress downstairs while he got it together.

And do you know that this nigga tried to dress the damn air mattress? Oh, honey, no. "We ain't laying on THAT, are we?"

He froze there on all fours while making the air mattress and turned his head to look at me. His face was blank. "I guess not."

"Um, I'm totally mattress worthy," I said to him.

"You gon make me move all that shit, aren't you ..."

I said not a fucking word and just stared at him, smiled and took a drag of my cigarette. He spent the next 20 minutes making trips upstairs and taking the stack off his bed and setting his stuff all over the living room ... while I smoked.

Don't come at me with some stupidness. And invest in a comfortable mother fucking mattress. Skip the $300 ipod or that "gotta have it" cell phone and add it to the $300 you have for a mattress and buy something in the $600 + range.

Seriously, I slept like SHIT last night and it's totally ruining this shit for me. Lack of sleep makes me irritable and sleeping on those $299 mattresses hurts my back. And for the love of God - don't buy a full size, carajo! Queen or bigger. Y YA!

And don't mother fucking lie about shit you KNOW i'm gonna find out. Like that one dude who said he was 35 ... except after we met he tells me he's 42. I actually don't give a fuck how hold you are (as long as you're over 27), but the fact that you lied about it ... well, that now makes it an issue.

But about your endowment?!? Much like I don't care how old you are, the size of your dick isn't an issue. As a matter of fact, there *IS* such a thing as too big. I'm *NOT* a size queen .. I prefer everything to fit.

But why, why WHY lie? KNOWING I'm gonna find out. And I can TOTALLY tell the difference between 8 inches and 6. Seriously, I know the difference.

TRUST ME. I know the difference. *wink*

The fact that you lied about it? Annoying as hell. And maybe I could chalk it all up to your being self-conscious about it, fine ... But your mattress sucks! Ay no, I can't. I spent $600 on mine ... and I have a platform bed without a box spring. I don't do $399 sets. Sorry.

I get TOTALLY petty when I'm moody - I accept it. Suffice it to say I turned down the offer to go back there again tonight. For WHAT!? For his mattress to blow my back out?

And don't buy THIS shit either!

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Strangest thing

If you've followed my blog, you know that I had this sorta weird battle with wanting a relationship. It's weird because it seemed beyond my control, like it was some innate desire that I really couldn't explain. It made no sense in the context of my life because I live in one city, work in another, am a full time dad every weekend and am working on my master's degree and where the hell am I going to fit in time to work on a relationship?

And I do mean work. I don't buy into that theory that relationships shouldn't take work. Kiss my ENTIRE ass. I have to work at my relationship with my own mother - of COURSE I've got to work on my relationship with some nigga who isn't even blood. Gimme a break - that whole fairy tale, perfect "throw-down-your-hair-and-I'll-come-save-you" lives in the Magic Kingdom. Ever wonder why it's called "MAGIC Kingdom?" Because it's a fake place, bitchezz - it's where we keep the tooth fairy, and Santa and Leprechauns with pots of gold at the end of rainbows. People, the idea of a relationship that doesn't take work is about as real as Iraq's weapons of mass destruction.

So, what the fuck? Obviously, I've purposefully busied my life in order to not have to deal with the bullshit of feeling lonely and that I needed a man to fill my time. I get that and I own it. But how the fuck could I be wanting very thing I'm busying myself not to need? Ugh - it's been crazy.

Anyway, I got through it. By being a whore. That's right - I admit it. There's no time for the full fledged relationship that I apparently somehow wanted so I took to being a p-i-m-p (euphemism for whoring) and then got it out of my system. I realized that in the past few weeks I really haven't felt the urge to go out and sit on a dick. It's just kinda ... gone. Gone like the myriad of condoms done been folded in napkins, tissue or whatever. (Because you know there's ALWAYS gon' be condoms, right? If you read my blog and don't use condoms, even so much as neglected to use a condom ONE time ... don't tell me. I'll come unglued. It's. Just. Not. SMART!)

So what happens? I meet someone. We meet at starbucks. starbucks throws us out at 9pm cuz they closing. fuckers. so we sit in his car and just talk. Seriously, just TALK.

That's totally fine by me - as I said ... the whole sit-on-a-dick bit is out of my system and I'm good with just talking.

Next night we go out to dinner. We kiss, hold hands, kiss, blah blah blah. But no sex. Second date and no sex. We just simply have a nice time.

But then it hits me ... wait a minute. I'm DATING!

WTF?! I'm obviously not averse to it, but I get to the point that I'm not even thinking about anything serious ... and I start dating. He texts me and calls me and we chat daily, even if just for 15 minutes. And the words of one of my favorite people EVER resound: "if you're not careful you'll end up in a healthy adult relationship."

DAMMIT ANON! You're in my fucking head with that shit. DAMMIT!

I'm fairly certain that he and I will have rounded third base and slid home before my next post.

(tee hee - "slid home" I'm funny)

Stay tuned and let's see where THIS shit goes. For the first time in a long time I have no real expectations and am seriously just seeing where things go ... averse to nothing and expecting nothing at the same time.




Friday, March 20, 2009

When KARMA comes a knockin ...

March 7, 2008: My fat fuck of a boss reveals to me that he's letting me go because I have been doing things contrary to what I have been told. Except, I had been doing exactly what he was asking me to do. Fucker set me up.

Thursday, March 19, 2009: Fat fuck got shit canned.

In 2006, I spent 10 months working my ass off, literally. Ffrom January to October, I lost over 40 pounds. But then I started looking all gaunt and skeletal and so I stopped going to the gym. The weight began to come back on. My then boyfriend said to me one night, while we lay watching TV, his arm around me, "You ARE gaining weight - I can feel it."

Today, my now ex-boyfriend is 35 pounds heavier than he was that day and is quite the fat bastard.

If you don't knnow about, you should be ashamed.

Feel free to give Karma her due respects in comment - I look forward to hearing from you all. I could use a smile or two these days.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Prognosis? Grim.

I pulled this from the show's site, so if I get in trouble - at least it's free advertising! But I love the Special Victim's Unit - love it. I was watching it last night, the one with Carol Burnett. OMG, crazy good. hella good. DOPE. (Whatever the kids are saying these days) I've always liked that Carol - she usually makes me laugh (remember the curtain she wore as a dress? omg! too much) but she tore UP her role on SVU last night. I won't spoil it.

But suffice it to say someone died. There was some subplot about cancer and shortened lifespans and 4 months to live and blah blah blah. But anyway, I'm way digressing here - I got to thinking about that this afternoon in light of a certain situation I find myself in at work.

A coworker - right? We're supposed to be tight. (it's gonna get good - he said "supposed to be") You know, like I got your back and you got mine and all that. Well, she straight up done lost her mind on my via email copying our boss, the mayor of chicago, obama and Jesus Christ himself. I was taken aback, confused - and really just pretty disappointed.

And you know what? If you throw me under the bus, in WRITING no less, I guaran-go-dam-tee you that I don't trust you. Well, what to do if it's someone you're supposed to be close to?

You stop trusting them.

And I'm kind of mourning the end of what I thought existed, but that apparently didn't. I mean, we talked this morning and smoothed things over - well enough to continue to work in the same office together.

(as in we office-share, SAME office)

So, she has her side too - she felt that I was attacking her in my email ... because I copied our boss on my initial note to explain the problem a client had. Note, I was in Tenneessee and said client was looking me dead in the face - I emailed in and explained the situation and that the client wanted his money back. I can't make that decision, but my boss can. I copied my coworker because the client's account is actually under her auspices and she thought I had no business copying the boss. But I was emailing the boss for permission to tell this man we'll ignore the $2,000 invoice we sent him and copying her as a courtesy.

All that said, maybe it seems petty. But what is NOT petty, is that her initial instinct was to mistrust me. I really thought we were better than that - that she would at least stop and think "well, this is JACK ... and not some schmuck passin me by on the street' or something along that vein.

But no ...

And I'm realizing that this friendship received a very grim prognosis - we're really only just coworkers.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

No, I mean I REALLY love my vibrator

Straight bizarro shit, folks. I mean - BIZZARE

Watch Married To The Eiffel Tower [Part 1]  |  View More Free Videos Online at

Friday, March 13, 2009

Bandwagon ...

Figure 1: Closeted homosexual comedian - who isn't funny OR good in bed.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Northworst for a reason

*shines spotlight on stupid*

I didn't really have a good time flying with Northwest yesterday. My 9PM flight out of Detroit was canceled ... at 12:15 a.m. Yes folks, nearly 3 and a half hours, 3 planes with mechanical problems and 4 different gates ... they canceled the flight. I mean, don't get me wrong, when it was announced that the first plane had mechanical problems, I really didn't feel like getting IN it, you feel me? But a second plane with mechanical problems? And then that third gate we went to ... it was an incoming flight that never came because of ... you guessed it


And the last gate they sent us to was the very last gate in the concourse. And if you know anything about Detroit metro's Northwest terminal is that the end of that "C" terminal is about as far away from here as Topeka. That bitch is HUGE. and terminal "C" doesn't have that nifty tram taking riders back and forth. So, we hoofed it - and that's where they canceled the flight.

So we had to walk through the terminal, again - go underground through the walkway ... which is longer than the yellow brick road ... to where? Terminal fucking "A" - not to baggage claim. To another fucking terminal. Because you can't just fucking get there from here. So, I traipse through that terminal too and head outside where we all stand waiting on the Marriott shuttle. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And there it is! We fill that bitch to the gills except there one more person than there are seats. So who stands? JACK stands. We finally get to a hotel to get a room, and where do they fucking put me? Two doors down from the end of the building.

This morning, my foot fell off.

So, I hobble my way to an early flight and land in Nashville to meet in baggage claim this college girl who asks if she can use my phone because she's trying to get to school and is stuck. She seemed really frustrated. I put on my professional "I'm-at-work-and-there's-nothing-wrong" facade and let her use it, ignoring the fact that I JUST plugged the mother fucker in because the battery was juiced. So, she used my phone with it charging in the outlet.

No answer. She begins to fiddle with the buttons on my phone and continues to do so while she asks, "do you have unlimited text on your phone?" Bitch, you already texing!

But it wasn't JACK! it was the professional "sure, go ahead" me and that was that. I later look at my sent texts and you know what this stupid bitch wrote:

"I need a ride ... now!"

Honey, you were using *my* phone.

Seriously, you just should've left a message identifying yourself. That was dumb.

But somebody figured it out - because s/he texted me back later asking,

"did you get a ride yet?"

Ok, now you - responding to the text. This isn't her phone, carajo. I was tempted to respond
"Hell no! Who's coming to get me?" but they had my phone number. I let it drop.

I get to do this all over again on Wednesday. yay.

Thursday, March 5, 2009


... as in a rant and a rave. No parties here. It seems to be in the air, this venerable spring cleaning for the soul. I am about at whits end, the end of my rope, it's the last straw, ain't taking it not one more again ...

Are you so well endowed that you can tuck your dick between your legs and touch your asshole? Are you? Nice. Then go fuck yourself.

  • That micromanaging prick at work who isn't my boss and insists on emailing me about how I spend my time, all the while admitting he has NO idea what I do every day, needs to back the fuck up. I mean, aren't you the one saying you don't know what I do? Right. That means, you don't know how I spend my fucking time. And that letter you wrote to the board of directors, naming me? Oh, how I wish I could ball it up and gag the fuck out you with it. What kind of nonsense is this - do you really have nothing else to do? Blog world can fucking tell you I've been blogging MUCH MUCH less than ever before, and it's a function of all the damn time I'm giving this job. So, back the fuck up before the boiling Rican blood within me insists on spilling yours!
  • What's with agreeing to meet for a booty call and then deciding against it and not fucking telling me? I mean, the whole point of a booty call is that there are no strings attached. And when I call you on it, your explanation is that you want more than I'm giving? Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Nigga, you didn't even have my number programmed into your phone and had NO idea who I was. An hour later, I'm not giving enough? Next time you want more from a man, ask him out - don't offer to help him so he doesn't have to jerk off alone. The latter does NOT convey your desire for some sort of committment. And don't fucking tell me that you really enjoyed my company last time and that you were waiting on me to call YOU. If you're not a go-getter, I'm a get to gettin' ... it's really pretty simple.
  • Dear dude on the train petting the seeing eye dog: You're not supposed to pet seeing eye dogs. They're working. And in case you're wondering why the dog's owner didn't say anything, it's because she didn't fucking SEE you - not because it was ok. Seriously, it's NOT ok. Ever. Never, ever pet a seeing eye dog.
  • Dear dude who texted me "I'm amazing." When I tell you that you became less attractive when you texted me that, don't argue with me. I don't care if you think that was supposed to make you more attractive, *I* get to decide what I find attractive and I'm telling you that's not it. And don't come at me with some flowery 5-text explanation about how God wants us to be positive and about how we determine how other people see us. I've read your stuff, and I'm far better at putting you in your place by putting shit into words. You crossed the confidence line into cocky and it's not cute, no matter what you say. We can talk this thing to death, but you became ugly to me today. Y YA.

I'm pretty fed up, folks. And as the weather here in Chicago warms, my heart is getting colder. I think I've accepted enough bullshit for 2009. Hereto forward, I'm dishing it out. Come fuck with me - I dare you.

And I ESPECIALLY extend that invitation to the jackhole who is divorcing my lovely, delightful friend. Please - I implore you ... fuck with me.