the gay storm's got me!!!

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
The Colbert Coalition's Anti-Gay Marriage Ad
colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor Gay Marriage Commercial

please watch this.

i dont know if you know, but many of my friends and family members have the gay. lol. the original commercial they showed is foolish propaganda, and my love, stephen colbert really showed that. really? youre afraid? really? im sorry, but, i cannot understand how gay people getting married affects my specific marriage. maybe the wedding, because thered be less availability in halls and churches, but not my marriage. unless i married a gay. and trust me, that aint the case.

*taken from stephen rader's blog. an awesome guy who i woulod so be friends with in real life.*

A fence called Jesus

These are the texts I sent La at 1125-1130 PM, July 3, 2008.



*Oh God someone is singing and my mp3 player died. He's apparently singing about an "ice cream girl" and asking people what their flavor is. And now there's people playing his song!!! Oh God! This must stop!



*I wish I was lying. Now he's dancing! This is fooley Wang to the fullest!



*And people got the nerve to wanna join in! I hope you're not asleep. I can't take it Jesus.



They eventually left and came back singing a "love in the club" remix. Trust I got video. I'll have it up here ASAP. Just to clarify they texts, apparently I thought he was trying to sing/ hit on a chick, then his homey came up with the casio joint playing the song, and another dude had a camera... Apparently this will be on youtube tonight so if you see a chick with an afro, a frown, and a wife beater, that was me just trying to make it home from work cuz that Negro was in my face. His name... Was SKIIBO. No lie. Can't make it up.



This is just why I takes my camera everywhere.



Jesus, you were a carpenter, now please be a fence.

Cosigning

I've mentioned before that my butt is getting to be serious. I know people are looking. I'm getting better about it. But every now and then...

"your man let you out the house with those pants on?"

Now this was asked of me by not some stranger, but a fellow employee of my fine establishment. Not once, but twice, oh, just in case I didn't hear him.

"well Johnny (when you say dumb shit I put your name out there), FIRST of all (girls in the A put special emphasis on first when they are trying to make a point) my man doesn't live with me. I own my house. Secondly, hour doesn't let me do anything. He doesn't try to control me. Thirdly, seriously Johnny? For real? What year is this? And finally, no matter what pants I have on this will still be a fire lookin ass that you can't touch." and I'm out.

I get a lot of this, "your man let's" or "your man does," as if I'm barefoot and pregnant, or even have a wedding ring on. Psyche! Then these same people turn around and hit on me as if that wouldn't make both of us triffling and as if they didn't just show how chauvinistic they are.

Like la said, get like me. I am a confident, capable woman, and maybe I ruin your hypothesis that women are golddiggers and want to trap a nigga. Cuz no matter how successful I believe my man will be one day, he is not at this moment ballin out of control, and I certainly am not trying to have his baby right now. Oh nooo. So scrap that theory. It might help you get your relationship game up.

Kesi himself has told me I'm mean to men. I just tend to ignore them cuz I know they can't offer me a thing but a wack line.





Ps: I'm about to go into sleep therapy tonight. I'll be bored out of my mind tonight so I'll be blogging on the experience. Pray for me!
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

the more i think about it,

the funnier, or at least more interesting this story is. so i'm telling it. last friday i went to the club. with:

b, my best work friend and the guy who drives me home when i dont wanna take the train.

bri, new chick at work who's as cute- and smart- as a button.

marcia, a night shift regular who feels my pain, and my love of reggae.

denny, a morning shifter from the usvi who has breathing problems and a mantra: i got five kids!

and nadia, also from the islands, whose birthday it was, and who wanted to go out despite not dancing with ANYONE but b.

so friday night we leave work at record time. the royal peacock closes at 4am but we want to have as much fun as a $20 can legally get ya. despite the fact that the club is only a few blocks away, we have to go all the way to nadia's to pick her and denny up.

we get there at about 12:30. i'm the first one dressed in my cute new extra long pink tank and shorts i refer to as "jeans underwear." accessorized with a multicolored sash worn as a belt and a vickie's bra you can almost see through my shirt. whoo that girl was smokin.

an hour, a plum and an orange soda later and we're outa there. we find parking easily and discuss why guys think yelling out a car window is supposed to make a girl with any sense want to answer. we also discussed how b looked like a pimp with 5 scantily clad girls walking down auburn ave with him.

we enter the club after being frisked, wristbanded and serenaded by a toothless crack head singing "i wanna sex you up." we head for the bar and everyone gets a drink including b and bri, who are a litte less than legal.

the music is bumping. many reggae songs i've only heard once. but all it takes is for me to finish my double of malibu- lauren's influence- to get loose enough to dance. and in a reggae club all it takes is a girl with her ass wiggling to magnetize some dude(s).

i'm dancing. bri's dancing, and she's looking like she's gonna be in a video next week. but the guys like it. nadia is of course dancing with b and the others are getting their individual grooves on. we see j, another islander who works downstairs from us. he's wearing just a white a-shirt. and he's muscles for days. and he can dance, naturally.

about this time, mr straight from a beanie man video comes up. we dance. he tries to one up me but i'm right with him. at some point he attempts to take me to the floor rump shaker style, and manages to land flat on his ass. my friends see this and do the point and laugh. needless to say he didnt wanna dance with me anymore.

j tells me he respects me. oh, so you didnt before? i tell him i grew up around jamaicans and he seems impressed. haha. so we dance and he seems more impressed.

bri starts telling guys i'm her girlfriend so she wouldnt have to dance with them. i do a very unconvincing job of making them believe it. but seeing how i'm not a lesbian...

denny had to work at 6:30 am. at about 3, she went to sit down. and directly fell asleep. asleep! mouth open, maybe some drool. in a club of bumping music. she has apnea so she's constantly nodding off. but this did it. i've never seen anyone full on snore in a club.

so 4:15 rolls around and the lights come on. actually they'd been on for a few minutes but they didnt start playing slow music until then. so we got on the highway, opting to go to bri's house first cuz she lived the farthest away, near six flags. only one problem: she really had no idea where she lived.

we drove around for almost an hour. from camp creek, the fairburn side, to cascade road and back. i'd like all of you with sidekicks, blackberrys, and the new sda like mine, to pat yourselves on the back. you will never have to worry about a drunk 19 year old who doesnt know how to get home. please visit mapquest.com to see how not close those things are to each other.

once we have an affirmed way to her house, we stop at a gas station. he made bri pay for the gas. looking back, this must have been the moment b really looked like a pimp. me in my booty shorts and nadia in her ridiculously short skirt went to the store to get food with b. some guy asked me how old i was. "Old enough not to answer you." b told me to stay until nadia finished.

we take bri home. she also has to work soon and mentions cheerios as she stumbles to the door. we drop marcia off but she cant get inside at 6am and opts to sleep in her car. next is nadia and denny, who live near me. and i get home and go straight to bed. i too have to work later that day.

i left my voice somewhere at that club and still havent really gotten it back. everyone made it to work saturday but bri. she and the cheerios had a fight. they won. we're going back the 21st to see kid capri. i loves him.

holla.

remember that episode where will and grace have that wierd neighbor ned and grace mumbles at him so she doesnt have to commit to him?

scene: me on the train writing my entry on ethnicity which i wrote already and managed to mysteriously erase from my phone) i'm annoyed at trying to remember what i wrote.

him: hi.
me: mmmhmm
him: what's your name? (i shrug) oh you dont have a name? (i say nothing) where you going?
me: work.
him: oh yeah, where? i'll come buy something. (i stare into my phone) where you work?
me: i'm not going to answer you so stop asking me stuff.
him: i'm tryin to be nice.
me: that's ok. you dont have to do that.

this is what happens just about every time a guy tries to holler at me. the problem is not that they holler, its that they dont know when to stop.

i asked two different women if i was wrong. clearly i wasn't in the mood to talk, but if just kept on trying! he could have moved on to another, more eligible woman rather than keep trying to break down this steel wall of what is apparently rudeness.

it is not rudeness. what it is is a hint. i'm not single. i'm not interested. i'm not at your level (way above it). sooner or later you will come across the fact that i have a boyfriend, plenty of regular friends, and am so much better than you that it will hurt your heart. kesi calls me bad for self esteem. and he's glad i actually like him. i just dont believe in wasting time. especially my own.

so... next time you get ignored by a pretty girl on the train, move on.

holla.

a wise man once said

dont you hate them old lyin ass hoes
smiling in your face but in her best friend's clothes?

ok, seriously it was lil flip. but it's true! ok, so she didnt smile in my face, but this is what i think happened:

my "friend" told her friends that she had a "hook up"-me- and that she would guarantee a good time for those friends from services rendered by the hook up. all this happened before talking to me.

said "friend" called me repeatedly at times when i was busy-i am always busy- and left messages, not to say hi, happy birthday (in 2 weeks) or happy anniversary (one week), but to say "i need something from you for free."

said "friend" also left IM's on my yahoo acct to say "oh, so you cant pick up the phone?" mind you, the last time i talked to her was october. and she was drunk and dismissive. and only wanted to talk about herself.

so no, i will not be rendering my services to you, my "clothes" if you will, for you will surely be flossing off of what i got, not what you earned, if i did so.

and shit, i dont have time to make sure your shit is squared away when mine is all over the place. but you wouldnt know that, cuz you never asked, did you. boo to you madam. boo to you.

"why i dont go out" or "that creepy guy is staring at me again"

so the afore mentioned christmas party was sunday. extra fun. it was touch and go as to wether i was going to be able to get out of work to go (you cant make up excuses to get out of work so you can go to your job's christmas party, especially when the party is downstairs), but i made it and i looked jazzy as haelll( thats how you say i when you looked as jazzy as my ass did).

let me recount the day. i went to work, blabla, and creepy guy was there. creepy guy is a man(a man. he's 28) who works with us who still lives at home, smiles all the damn time and has this afro/dreds combo compareable to the adoreable crabman from "my name is earl." all this is fine in pieces, but when you put it all together it is what we like to refer to as too many adjectives. and: he's creepy. he likes every girl in our restaurant and has the mental state of a 13 year old when "flirting." i assume his still living at home has something to do with that. he's a vegetarian, which is cool, but one day when refering to a hunting show he said, "why do white people have to kill animals? animals are of color too." of color- meaning cows and deer were a part of the civil rights struggle and marched on washington too? i thinkest not.

so anyway, creepy guy went somewhere after his shift but before the party, and proceeded to come back to work high. squinty and smelly high. all cloudy up in his crabman fro. it was the dumbest thing i had ever seen anyone do. and i have seen some things. he must know we dont like him and would rat him out in a heartbeat. our shift manager was RIGHT THERE!!!! he isnt an actual employee as much as a seasonal one, so he had to be escorted into the party.

meanwhile, kesi is lost on peachtree street. my co worker had given him shady directions so i had to get a map to maneuver him through the series of one way streets that is downtown ATL. once at the parkinglot, he informs me that he has no cash and drives off to a lot that takes cards, which is CLOSED. so i must once again maneuver him back to the hotel i work at, scrounge up some money from the co worker who gave us bad directions in the first place, and go out to the lot, without a jacket, in 20 degree weather to pay the lil machine.

he was at the wrong lot. the one i wanted him to go to DID take credit. and i am cold. its time to party.

i change from a burgundy uniform to an equally burgundy but way sexier dress. kesi, who had never seen me in the dress, said something to the effect of, "wow." i told you i was jazzy. we enter the party and sit with two coworkers, one who looks like james cagney in his suit and another who looks like the pastor's wife (in a whitney houston way). and creepy guy, who is wearing a beige suit i can only assume is made of hemp. kesi volunteers to sit next to him so i dont have to. what a guy. and he looked good too. in my favorite color on him: baby blue. -drool-

we get drinks, eat a lil, the electric slide plays and of course we dance. at one point a slow song comes on and he gets prom-reminiscent and smiles all goofy at me. his "i really love you" smile. as stoic as he can be at times, he breaks out the emotion every once in a while, and its always when i least expect it.

my friends show up, we give each other compliments, i run my hands through my friends dreads and traumatise myself at how grossly sweaty they are. the dj talks over and through really good songs- at one point stopping the new T-pain song cause there were only "10 people on the floor." BASTARD. those 10, myself included, were in love. with strippers, no less. my sweaty dredded friend was singing to his "date"(another seasonal worker who asked him to take her so she could get in) and the dj messed up that moment. we didnt like him much, but when he wasnt talking he was playing the jams. i even taught kesi how to dance to latin music as best he could in tims.

i NEVER stopped dancing. not when i got soft shoed on, not when someone spilled a LITER of alcohol on the dance floor, not when creepy guy was staring at me...need i mention he had only the big chick with bad breath to dance with? and almost every time i happened to look in his general area, he was staring at me, with that goofy ass smile he has. but i just kept on dancing. reggae, salsa, hiphop...dj talksalot's remixes... til midnight.

but before midnight, my homegirl got drunk and started dancing on me and kesi. i am so sure smitty's got a pic of that. after she walked away she fell, and the dishwasher, who has a crush on any 20something that shows him slight attention, caught her and didnt let her go for the rest of the night. it would have been cute, if i didnt know she barfed all through monday.

so all in all a good night. i woke up monday morning with a burning pain in my thighs and realized i need to do this way more or not at all. i'm sure lauren has the answers to that.