Category: tapped out

Oh O.J… Nine years? Really? Sigh. I swear there’s never been a person that wanted to go to jail more than dumbass O.J. Some negores are simply exhausting.

You get off the hook. But instead of being grateful that God was asleep that day, you went back to snorting coke and beating on white women. Then you write a book on “how you would’ve done it, if you did it. And now, armed robbery in Vegas hotel room?

Talking about,”you didn’t know it was wrong and you stand before the judge a little confused???? I’ll bet you are, sweetie.

Johnny Cochran is straight turning over in his grave right now.

Alrighty then… It seems the euphoria three-fourths of this country continues to experience after Obama’s decisive victory last Tuesday night, doesn’t necessarily extend to the rest of the world. Because yesterday afternoon over in Jerusalem a big ass brawl popped off inside of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher (alledgedly the spot where Jesus was crucified).
I’m talking tear down, drag out, beat ‘em up fight that only ended when the Israeli police storm the holy site with machine guns and pulled folks apart. But wait on it, guess who was up in God’s house throwin Ds like they were back at The Tunnel back in 1992???… Freaking monks!!!

Under normal circumstances I would ask Jesus to take the wheel. But for some reason, I feel like he may have left the building on this one. Read the story and light a candle.

No matter how you slice the cake, being cheated on sucks. And the older I become, the longer it takes me to trust. So to discover that someone I finally allowed myself to believe in, be completely unguarded around and tell Elsa about has betrayed me? Well like the 57% of you, just call me Capt. Cut-‘Em-Off.

And no, it’s not because I don’t understand how challenging it can be to meet amazing, progressive, single men nowadays. In fact, I’m the first one commenting on how much harder it’s become over the years and threatening to auction my virginity on Ebay (oh wait, it’s a little too late for that, huh?). But quietly, it’s just as hard to meet amazing women. So the way I see it, we’ll both be struggling to figure it out after the fact.

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for everything. And since I don’t have kids to consider, I refuse to be the only one trying to hold the sinking ship together. DO NOT come crying to me to me after the fact because you feel guilty or worse, cause your side chick is getting out of pocket and is threatening to rat you out. Sloppy is not hot.

Although I’ll admit; I wasn’t always this jaded. Looking way, way back, like the 42%, I’m sure that if my ex had simply been upfront about what happened or in my case, confessed before the trifling jump-off called my phone (insert eye roll and sigh) we would’ve definitely been able to move past it. Because keeping it real? Deep down inside, I wanted to forgive him. I wanted to make like the white girls in the movies and have a happily ever after. Now, no one’s saying it would’ve been easy (cause I’m a Scorpio and you know how we do) BUT when you actually meet someone that matters, it can be hard to just let go of everything because of one unfortunate, meaningless indiscretion…

I was going to start my day by breaking on Sarah “I’m a fake Maverick” Palin and the newly leaked expense reports that prove she’s been flying her three daughters all across the country to different events and shacking up in luxury hotel rooms at the state’s expense. And wait on it… homegirl got caught trying to amend her expense reports to read as if the girls were on ‘official state business’ all after the fact. Why by-golly, are you trying to tell me is that 7 year-old Piper is not capable of conducting official Alaska state business (insert patronizing wink/ smirk combo)?? I cry for the country.

Needless to say event organizers (who’ve seen way too many lobbyists headed to the clink in the past couple of years) were hardly willing to take the fall for the dimwitted Governor. As soon as they were questioned by the press, they started dry snitching like Bodie in The Wire, talking about, “We never extended an invitation to her family… The girls just showed up.” Um, what you say?
Jesus, take the wheel because I can’t.:
http://news.aol.com/elections/article/palin-charged-alaska-for-kids-travel/220444

But then, I received word of a voter in New Mexico getting turned away from the polls because of the t-shirt she was wearing and I got a little sidetracked.

WOW, so I guess all the hundreds of annoying emails reminding me not to wear an Obama t-shirt, button, sticker, underwear, eye patch or tattoo to the voting polls this November 4th that my beloved cousin Vianet keeps forwarding to are actually true. My bad, V!

Turns out that the poor lady was in a freaking wheelchair when she got sent away!! Talking about her Obama t-shirt was distracting to other voters. Um sure, but not for nothing the liquor store next door isn’t? I’m just saying… It’s definitely getting ugly.

Check out the craziness and be prepared.
http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/politics/2008/10/21/jones.nm.voter.turned.away.mxf.koat

So J-Hud done left her longtime janitor sweetheart and gotten engaged to ‘Punk’ a social climbing Harvard grad who was one of the I Love New York Season 2 reality show contestants (read: he watched the first season and STILL thought it was a good look to be part of the stupidity). Lord haf mercy! Where are her friends? Damn that, where is her TIVO? Cause all she had to do is watch one episode of that tom foolery and there NO WAY in the world she would even consider this a viable option. I mean MY GOD. Yes, it is hard out here for a single black girl but goddammit it aint THAT hard!!!! This wave nuevo wearing idiot broke down CRYING about how much he loved trashy ass Tiffany Pollard and now, you wanna call him your man??? Why? Why must I cry????

For the record, ‘Punk’ ain’t nothing but the African American Kevin Federline. He’s about to run through homegirl, spend/steal all her money and leave her crazy. Stay tuned for the inevitable photos of J-Hud on the side of the Santa Monica Freeway wailing out “You Gonna Love Me!!!”

You know how you have those friends that you only talk to about two times a year? You’re not any less their friend for the lack of communication cause you just kinda always know they’re okay? But if they do reach out, you know it’s important? Well I received a very distressed email from one of my very good homegirls that falls in this category. The email read:

“Why they have to make her look like a white woman! I’m so pissed at this. She is barely recognizable. Come on. This is why I constantly tell my daughter and all her friends how beautiful they are EVERY CHANCE I GET!! When are people (Black & White) gonna stop standing for artificial nonsense like this. Beyonce should be ASHAMED of her damn self. I will no long support her endeavors if this is how she choices to portray herself. I’m gonna end my rant now because I’m getting madder!”
Okay before I say another word, you really need to understand is that my girl is like the ultimate Queen B fan. So for it to come to this… her little heart must be breaking. And to admit it publicly? Well lets just say it’s time to convene the prayer circles. But you know what? She sure is dead right. This photo is just that crazy.
I mean no, Beyonce is not necessarily the same complexion as her half-sister Kelly (yeah, I said it) but shit, she surely ain’t the same complexion as Angelina Jolie!! What in the world??? And I’m sorry but there’s nothing that can convince me except the contract papaers themselves, that she doesn’t have right of review on these shots. Seriously? this is what you’re okay with Mrs. Carter? Boo.

Damn Beyonce w/ with her color-corrected self and don’t forget to vote for my book!

I can’t believe it’s been damn near a week since the last post. And no, I don’t even have a good vacay to blame it on this time. Basically, I’ve been running around like a chicken without a head since last Thursday: Getting my apartment together (Yes, I mopped that damn kitchen), watching George Michael in concert (the world’s biggest coming-out-the-closet tour), shopping with Elsa (nothing better than a day at Target with your mom), kicking it with friends I haven’t seen in weeks (I missed my Sharae), spending money I don’t have (what recession?) and procrastinating on work that I should’ve been done (I will finish this godforsaken article on Robin Thicke before I pick my aunt up at the airport tomorrow).

Why is twenty-four hours never enough?

4:45p? The days just seem to fly by ESPECIALLY with a weekend around the corner. So far so good with the schedule, life during the workdays has become more productive than not so I won’t coplain BUT as for the afterwork stuff… that’s another story.

So on Wednesday night I went out with my girlfriends. Since it’s been a million and one years since we’ve all gotten together, dressed up, dressed up and headed out we decided to go hard and hit up three venues- a pre-draft party at the Manhattan Porche delearship, a friend’s party in the LES and D-Nice’s bday party at Plumm (better known as the old Nells). All I can say is- being the sober friend sucks.
While it was wonderful to catch up with old faces, chit-chat with new boys and be out with the girls, that whole “natural high” and “just a ginger ale for me, please” business only lasts for so long. And certainly not long enough to numb the pain in my feet or mask the increasing body odor factor (of the folks around us NOT my friends) as the night progressed. By about 2am, yours truly was DONE. But of course, I still had a friend dancing on top of the table so I couldn’t exactly just get up and leave. Sigh.
When I finally dragged my tired behind into the cab home, I could barely feel anything below my knees. Mind this is despite the fact that I’d changed into the emergency flip-flops. You know it’s bad when you get out the cab and the corner boys jump up to open door b/c they pity you, not cause you’re fly. Two days later and I’m still not okay… And the summer is just beginning. Pray for me ya’ll.

Sigh, I’m having a really bad hair moment. My ‘fro is fighting me at every step and I’m really starting to think that that this whole natural hair thing is for the birds. Yeah, I siad it- it might be time to slap a good old fashioned perm up in this nappy head of mine.
I am sick and tired of losing an hour and a half of my life combing this hot ass mess out. Not to mention what it does to my carpal tunnel. I get out of the shower feeling like a cripple. It’s crazy.
And let’s not talk about all these new gray hairs are popping up. I really don’t want to dye my hair but if I see one more gray hair, I’m going to scream. My mom rationalized the newest patch that just sprouted up in the front of my head by saying that I’m 32 and that’s what happens when you get old. Geez, thanks Elsa.
Honestly, I think I need a good haircut but my lazy ass likes to pull my hair up in a ponytail. Can’t do the pony puff without the length. Besides, I’m afraid that if I go into the salon feeling funky and undecisive, I might come out with no hair at all.
Perhaps I need suggestions. What color do you think I should dye my hair? Should I perm it? Maybe I should just wear a dramatic Beyonce-esque weave for a little while until I decide what I want to do… holler at the kid.

Don’t you hate it when things become predictable? I mean seriously, I’m away for four days- OF COURSE there’s going to be a major water leak in my kitchen while I’m gone (refer to earlier post). Why wouldn’t there be?
So like clockwork, I call my building super first thing Monday morning to come and replaster the now sagging ceiling. Mind you, I make it my business to point out where my light fixture has obviously started to come off of the ceiling from the water damage. Note the word, started. As in if you do something now, it might be prevented.
Well as you can see from the picture, I speak another language. I mean, I must. Because not even fifteen minutes after that slow-eye, no repair skill having, midget of a man walked out my door the damn light fell down!!!
But wait on it- cause there’s always more…
When the light fell, rat FECES tumbled out from the ceiling and all over my floor. What in the third-world hell? Perhaps I should just be thankful a mice didn’t fall down too, huh?
Anybody got a good realtor?


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