Category Archives: Something Ain’t Right…

Damn thee, Mali!!!

I’ve been busy, damn it! Give me a break! Sorry about the loooong absence, especially since my previous blog made it seem like I was back to stay. Lies, lies, lies. Never believe anything I have to say when it has to do with a committment. But anyway, so what have I been doing? Well, the j-o-b has got me goin’ nuts. Sometimes I just sit at my desk, gaze at my neverending stack, and say, “Damn thee, ye wretched pile of work!”

Anyway, so I’m on my way home from work today, and I come to the realization that I’m probably going to need a new car in about 3-6 months. Random malfunctions keep occuring and the stress of it is making me want to throw the Mali (P.O.S car) over a cliff. It’s crazy because the items that have issues seem to be stuff that’s not supposed to break on a car . 

First malfunction – Blinker:  It seems to be that Mali seems to know the exact time to be uncooperative – lunch time. For the last two weeks, my blinker has refused to work during lunch. This is truly when I need it the most. People are relentless during the lunch hour and aren’t kind to people who just smash on their brakes and cut their way in. Sorry lady in the grey Tahoe. How does the blinker stop working anyway? Is that even something that can be fixed or replaced? Damn thee blinker!

Second malfunction – Lack of sun visors: About the first year of having my car, the sun visors decided to commit suicide. Yes, they jumped off their hinges and lept to their death. As a result, I can’t block the setting sun. Sun in the face is a bitch after a long day at work. Such a shame – picture me stylin’ in diva shades while blocking the sun with my hands. Shades help, but sometimes the sun is at a spot where you just gotta have a visor or a midget sitting on your dash blocking the sun.

Third malfunction – AC button: Apparently Mali’s AC needs to be convinced in order for it to cooperate. It takes about 10 violent pushes of the button to get it going. Although once it’s going, it’s good to go, but then it refuses to turn off. The Texas heat is no place for an AC with an attitude. So you have two options: 1) Work up a sweat trying to push the damn AC button, or  2)Freeze your ass of for the rest of the trip.

So that makes 3 strikes. It’s about time for a new car anyway. The Mali is being a huge asshole and I don’t have time for anymore of its foolishness.

Sincerely, ty!

 

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Special Request

Internet Bride
I know most of you are like, “I thought you were back?” Well, I am back, but I can’t give you all my goodness at once. I figured I would give it to you in doses. You know, like two or three times a week. BWW (Blogging While Working) is really hard, especially if your co-workers are nosy. I don’t know how many times a day I get, “Who was that” after I get off a phone call. Umm…it was none of your damn business, hence the soft tone and the silent chuckles.

My co-workers have no problem projecting all their personal information out into the workplace. Unfortunately, due to his lack of a inside voice, I now know that one of my coworkers is divorced to a crack-head who caused him to go bankrupt. TMI, homie, TMI. To make matters worse, a few days after being succumbed to the unwanted information, I felt sorry for the guy and asked him how everything was going. You know, the crack-headex-wife, being a single father, the lack of good credit, etc. He turned a response, which should’ve been, “Fine,” or “Taking it day-by-day,” into a long drawn out story that ultimately turned out to be a tale about him trying to buy a baby momma on the internet. Hey, those kids need a mother and if paying a one-time fee of $10,000 is all it takes to get those little hellions off his back, then I say go for it.

This week it was spring break for his little demons, and I swear I heard him cuss them out at least 10 times each day. They called him everyday for the dumbest sh**. Can I ride my bike? Can I have a banana? I’m bored. He hit me. Forget the internet baby momma! Sell their little asses to the Cuban mafia. I bet those little hands would be perfect for rolling cigars. All jokes aside, this guy is really sweet. He’s a hard-working single father who needs someone special (and sexy, per his request) to make his life grand. So if you are down for making sweet love to an over 40 stallion (so he says), and don’t mind being a mother to two little hellions, then leave your email address and a full length picture. All women should apply, especially Filipino, Thai and anything else you see for sale on the internet. Sorry, just being honest.

Sincerely,

ty

 P.S.

Over it – Militant minister coverage

All about it– Media trying to dig up “dirt” on Ashley Alexandra Dupre and the ch-ching she is being offered to pose nude from the likes of Larry Flint and Joe Francis. Don’t you just love high-priced ho’s? The ho-locity just pulls you in.

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It A’int Easy Being Greasy

Tune Timers Photo Courtesy of http://www.tunetimers.com

Lunch, which is usually the highlight of my work day, was filled with frustration. I started off on a good note by making an effort to actually accomplish my lunch agenda: eat, run errands and return for a quick cat nap. I had a to-do list and everything.

So I’m full speed ahead with my lunch plans when decide to run my errands first–I figured I could endure the hunger a moment or two longer. My new cell phone had been giving me some drama so I decided to stop at the carrier to have it fixed. Waiting patiently in line, I was quickly scooped up by a African guy who was delighted to help. He wasn’t bad looking at all, but I did notice that his hair was slicked to the highest level of slicketivity ever witnessed on earth. I can usually appreciate a good selection of hair products, but his usage was a tad bit excessive. First of all, his hair was short–really short like the average black man fade that is often adorned with a bounty of waves. It wasn’t anything a doo-rag or wave cap couldn’t tame. So why all the extra product usage? Second, it was extra greasy. I didn’t plan on touching his hair, so the greasiness really wasn’t a problem for me…or so I thought.

When it finally came time to trouble shoot the issue, the man had to man-handle my phone to find the problem. By the time I got it back, it was greasy as hell. Most people (well at least black ladies) are used to a little product build-up (via make-up or hair) on the ear piece. That’s nothing that a quick swap can’t take care of. Other than that, one doesn’t usually have phone keys so greasy that you have to balance the phone in both hands just to dial a number. I wouldn’t have minded all the greasiness, but as usual the employees in the store don’t know sh*t about the phones when it comes to technical issues. We sat online with technical support for about 45 minutes until I finally said, “You know what, I’m on my lunch break. I’ll just give it to one of the IT guys at work.”

For what it’s worth, the guy really did try to help me. Due to his thick accent, he had to repeat everything over and over again to the technician, who probably had an accent as well. So ‘Thank you’ African man at the ATT store on MacArthur. Thanks, not only for your assistance, but also for subjecting me to an afternoon of alcohol pads and windex. I tried everything and still couldn’t get that greasiness off my phone.

 Sincerely, ty!

P.S. I love all my African brothers and sisters–greasy or not.

When did that happen?

You Don’t Know Jack!!!

Over the last few days, I’ve come to realize that I’ve been missing out on some events and situations. I watch the news, read the news, and even give wasteful hours of time to online gossip. So, how and why did I miss out on a few things?

Why didn’t anyone tell me…

…Bob Barker no longer hosts The Price Is Right? I didn’t find that out until today. It’s always been me and Bob. When I was younger, I’d see Bob Barker’s face and know that I still had about three hours left until I could watch cartoons. Anyone who had an old lady for a babysitter knows the schedule–The Price is Right, Young and the Restless, and then the mid-day news. It seemed like torture looking at Bob–whose hair never seemed to move nor change. But I always got a kick out of the spinning wheel. For some reason, Santa overlooked that request on my Christmas list—Cabbage Patch doll, crayons, and the wheel from Price is Right. Nevertheless, I’ll miss Bob.

…Alfonso Ribero had a break-dancing instructional video back in the 80’s. I’d forgotten all about Alfonso and his Michael Jackson impersonation gig from back in the day. Remember the Pepsi commercial? I can’t believe someone actually convinced him that his breakin’ skills were so tight that he needed to teach aspiring breakers all around the world how to perfect their ‘pop-lockin’ technique in a step-by-step guide. From this day forth, I ban all instructional dance videos–Dancin’ with Darrin included.

…the lawyers on tv don’t know sh**! About three weeks ago I got a speeding ticket. I’m always reluctant to go to court–something about hanging around too many people carrying loaded weapons makes me feel like I’m in Iraq. So I asked around and a few people mentioned they’d used a traffic lawyer. A co-worker recommended me to a lawyer who was supposed to be able to work magic. I called Mr. Magic, and after only five minutes of speaking with him I got that I’m-just-gonna-take-your-money-and-run vibe from him. I asked him my options, and he was telling me stuff I already knew.

By the way, someone has been trying to frame me. Upon my arrival at the courthouse, I found out that I had an outstanding from 2004. I’m looking at the ticket clerk like, “Oh, no I don’t. I don’t remember running any stops signs in 2004.” Bastards!!! Get your database straight FWPD!!! Those fools put a “U” and a “T” in my last name, created some imaginery person, and then blamed me for her sh**. Now you know that aint right. Sorry, but I had to get ghetto on y’all.

Sincerely,

ty

Keep Up the Good Work

Sexual Harrassment

Work is boring me to death. You know what, I’d rather start off on a positive note. Thank God for this wonderful day! That’s better. Now back to the work situation. So far, the highlight of my work day has been a quick visit from one of my ho-workers. Yes, ho-worker is correct. This type of co-worker has been known to take on the actions and rationality of, “Why get a degree or work hard when you can sleep your way to the top?” Then once they get the power job and the big checks start rollin’ in, they want to get all professional on us. “Hey, you know I’m in grad school now.” Grad school? Why not just turn a few more tricks? I know this may come off a bit judgmental and envious, but I’m just stating the facts. In actuality, I feel sorry for the poor girl. She’ll always be known as the girl who slept with her boss and helped ruin his marriage. No matter how smart she actually is, or how hard she performs her job (outside of the bedroom), somewhere in the back of my mind I’ll always think, “I wonder if she’s still passing out blow-jobs?”

After hating her, then feeling sorry for her, and then forgetting about her altogether, my mind went wandering to the a part of the day that I’m always overzealous for—lunch. For me, lunch is a special time when I can effectively execute my daily to-do list:

  • log-off
  • chew
  • digest
  • take a nap 

After this is done, what more would I possibly need to do? Oh yeah, brush my teeth. Lately I’ve realized that myself and another female co-worker are the only two who stroll into the ladies restroom after lunch to give our mouths a good scrub down. What’s up with that? Does everybody else just walk around with chunks of burger trapped in their molars? Ewww!!! That almost made me as sick as the Astroglide did yesterday. Speaking of lubricants, wouldn’t it be fabulous if there were a gay, male version of Rachel Ray. She’s just such a bore to me, and I have in mind a few zesty fellas that could definitely spice up a cooking show.

Hope I wasn’t too random today. I’m trying to keep my blog updated daily, so expect the aimless stories to continue.

Sincerely, ty! 

P.S.  Am I sick and twisted for wanting to buy my 9-month old nephew a little devil costume so he can be the “Hell Date” midget this Halloween?