In the words of Jill Scott:
Hate on me hater
Now or Later
Cause I'm gonna do me
You'll be made baby
So as I come into the office and get on the elevator, I run into a fellow company employee.
I cheerfully say good morning and the greeting is returned. Couple seconds later, she says to me, she says, “You have on a skirt and its COLD?” Then proceeds to shake her head. Apparently she had me mistaken for one of the construction workers across the street and thought that I would be working outside all day today. So I gently reminded her, “Well, it’s not like I work outside.”
“Yeah, that’s true.” she responded.
Listen, lady, just because you are short, fat and apparently low on self esteem, don’t go hatin’ on me. I usually have a very casual appearance, jeans, or slacks and long sleeve tees. So I understand if I caught you by surprise with the skirt, patterned tights and boots. But I look cute and you know it. If you don’t want to admit it, just don’t say anything. Didn’t your mother teach you that?
And if you ARE going to make comments like that, check yourself first, Honey. She had on jeans, a light jacket, no hat or gloves. Yet she was so concerned about my seasonal attire. Funny, ain’t it?
Go ‘head and hate on me, hater
‘Cause I’m not afraid, naw
What I got I paid for
You can hate on me.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Georgia Lottery
Ok so, you heard about the girl in South Fulton who won $72 Million in the Georgia Lottery, right? Well, just in case you haven’t (Evelyn) here’s a quick recap.
This Marcia chick’s boyfriend wanted some chocolate, or so he said (what man all of a sudden has chocolate cravins?). She told him to get a lottery ticket while he was at the store. He just so happened to purchase what turned out to be the winning ticket. So my question is, how does SHE get to claim the money and now begin to plan for her dream wedding since they have now been dating for seven years?
Here’s my theory: dude has seven children by nine different women and doesn’t want them beating down his door to get back child support OR dude is married and doesn’t want his wife to know that he won the money.
With that being said, my prediction is that the way this will play out will be an even bigger story than her winning the lottery. I’m sure Marcia has threatened to tell his wife everything if he doesn’t cooperate with her.
My second question is why would you go on television to tell the world that you are now a millionaire? Now every cousin, aunt, uncle and step-sibling you forgot you had will be knocking on your door and every friend you ever dumped will be hitting you up on FaceBook. And like 77% of all lottery winners, you will be broke again in three years. “A fool and his money are soon parted.”
Evenso, I wish her luck and pray that someone will talk some sense into her and give her some good financial advice. AND good relationship advice, like this: Honey, if he ain’t married you in seven years, he doesn’t want to marry you, period. Good Luck, Marcia.
This Marcia chick’s boyfriend wanted some chocolate, or so he said (what man all of a sudden has chocolate cravins?). She told him to get a lottery ticket while he was at the store. He just so happened to purchase what turned out to be the winning ticket. So my question is, how does SHE get to claim the money and now begin to plan for her dream wedding since they have now been dating for seven years?
Here’s my theory: dude has seven children by nine different women and doesn’t want them beating down his door to get back child support OR dude is married and doesn’t want his wife to know that he won the money.
With that being said, my prediction is that the way this will play out will be an even bigger story than her winning the lottery. I’m sure Marcia has threatened to tell his wife everything if he doesn’t cooperate with her.
My second question is why would you go on television to tell the world that you are now a millionaire? Now every cousin, aunt, uncle and step-sibling you forgot you had will be knocking on your door and every friend you ever dumped will be hitting you up on FaceBook. And like 77% of all lottery winners, you will be broke again in three years. “A fool and his money are soon parted.”
Evenso, I wish her luck and pray that someone will talk some sense into her and give her some good financial advice. AND good relationship advice, like this: Honey, if he ain’t married you in seven years, he doesn’t want to marry you, period. Good Luck, Marcia.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
In Spy a You
What inspires you? Who is your inspiration? I'll give you a second to think about it. Don’t take too long, I have stuff to do.
I'm sure you came up with a couple of different things, but what I hope is at the top of your list is You.
You should be your biggest inspiration, your own motivation, your best selling story, your own morning glory.
Remember when you were dating that guy and he was at that place with the people and he did that thing? Remember that? And remember how you left the situation without forcing that thing into his body part that would have made that stuff ooze out of his body? Remember how you didn't do that? You went home and told yourself you would be fine. Of course there was also alcohol, ice cream, doughnuts, and lots of tissue involved. And you kept using up battery life from talking to friends and family overnight. And you did finally find that old Bible that Aunt Charmaine gave you when you were 7 and you drew pictures in it because you thought Jesus should have boots instead of sandals. But you got through that ordeal. YOU got through that. You were able to get out of bed, go to work, do your job (well ACT like you were doing your job), hold conversations with people you don’t even like and get through your day. You were able to get over the pain and frustration and get on with your life. YOU did that. Not your kids. Not your mom. Not your pastor. They may have helped and encouraged, but you did it. You motivated yourself. You inspired you.
I'm sure you came up with a couple of different things, but what I hope is at the top of your list is You.
You should be your biggest inspiration, your own motivation, your best selling story, your own morning glory.
Remember when you were dating that guy and he was at that place with the people and he did that thing? Remember that? And remember how you left the situation without forcing that thing into his body part that would have made that stuff ooze out of his body? Remember how you didn't do that? You went home and told yourself you would be fine. Of course there was also alcohol, ice cream, doughnuts, and lots of tissue involved. And you kept using up battery life from talking to friends and family overnight. And you did finally find that old Bible that Aunt Charmaine gave you when you were 7 and you drew pictures in it because you thought Jesus should have boots instead of sandals. But you got through that ordeal. YOU got through that. You were able to get out of bed, go to work, do your job (well ACT like you were doing your job), hold conversations with people you don’t even like and get through your day. You were able to get over the pain and frustration and get on with your life. YOU did that. Not your kids. Not your mom. Not your pastor. They may have helped and encouraged, but you did it. You motivated yourself. You inspired you.
So what’s holding you back now from taking that next step towards what you want to do next? You. That’s right, you can inspire yourself, or you hold yourself back. It’s all up to you.
By the way, this was all me talking to myself. I need to get off my azz and do what I need to do to get where I want to be. If you have found something that helped you, that’s cool. But I really did this for me. I’ll help you later.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Next, Lex
Who are these people who can afford to give brand new Lexuses (Lexi? Lexesi?) as presents for Christmas? Not a little used Honda or a new Ford, but a Brand New Luxury car. Who are these people, where do they hang out and do they need a friend, daughter, administrator, house keeper or mere acquaintance?
Quite a few people I know including myself are barely making payments or just living hand-to-mouth like so many others nowadays. And the makers of LEXUS have the nerve to rub into my face the fact that I’m broke. Again. Still. Really? Thanks for reminding me that I have 10 more payments on a 12 year old car. Thanks for reminding me that I have to splice together two paychecks to pay my mortgage. Thank you for reminding me that I am nowhere near the 10 percent of the people who have 90 percent of the wealth in this country.
Oh yeah, and THANK YOU, Lexus for reminding me that the rate on my credit card just doubled because I reached my limit and didn't make a payment because I had to use cash to buy gifts for the kids at church whose house burned down last week because they couldn’t afford to keep their heat on and had to use a space heater for warmth, which shorted out and caused the fire, ultimately taking away everything they ever had in life. Yeah. Thanks.
Honestly, I would think that people who are considering buying a brand new luxury car as a gift would probably not be watching TMZ anyway. Wouldn’t they be at the Vanderpool party sipping spiked eggnog and munching on cookies made with gold dust and diamond butter?
And with the economy the way it is right now, reminding most of us that we can’t even afford what you’re peddling is not too bright of an idea if you ask me, Lexus. But then again, you wouldn’t bother asking me anything anyway, would you? I’m just a slovenly middle class worker who is just trying to get by. I wouldn’t think about buying your overpriced, poorly disguised Toyota anyway. I would get a Honda. Or a Hyundai. Well, that’s what I have now, so. . .but anyway, it wouldn’t be no Lexus.
So keep your snooty patooty commercials to yourself and let us regular folk continue to dream of our big, hulking overpriced not so luxury SUVs and Cross Countries, uh, Cross Overs. Whatever. We don’t need no stinking Lexuseses.
Stupid name anyway.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Sir Prize
No one is a bigger supporter of those who serve in the military than me. All of the important men in my life have military connections. My father was a WWII vet, all three of my brothers were in the army, and all of my husbands, past and present served as well. I’ve only had two husbands by the way, and consecutively not concurrently. But any who, I have the utmost respect and admiration for those who serve our country and I’m always happy and filled with joy and relief when they return from a tour away from home.
Nothing gives you a better feeling than when you see your loved one return from facing war or the possibility of war abroad. But lately, and I mean in the last few weeks or so, there has been an influx of news specials featuring service personnel’s’ “surprise” homecomings. And frankly, it’s gettin’ on my nerves.
I’ll admit the first 5, 10, even 20 times were very touching, real tear jerkers if you will. But when it happens every other day for three weeks, it becomes somewhat oh-not-this-againish. Don’t get me wrong, I want them to come home and be greeted lovingly by family and friends and even well meaning strangers. And there should be tears of joy, there should be hugs and kisses, there should be total relief filled faces. What there shouldn’t be is a full camera crew including director, producer and two assistant grips filming the entire occasion.
The problem is that it seems so staged now, there’s just no real feel of genuine emotion coming through the flat screen anymore.
As if on cue, camera one pans to little Timmy conveniently sitting on the opposite side of the room. Reporter, report! What little Timmy doesn’t know is that his dad, Big Tim is returning home from Iraq today and will surprise him in the middle of his English class (A class that little Timmy is failing terribly by the way. He continues to spell Iraq with two ‘k’s and a ‘w’. We may want to think about surprising little Timmy with a DVD of Sesame Street when this is all over.)
Now pan to the opposite side of the room and BAM! In walks Big Tim in full Army camouflage garb. Quick, back to little Timmy. Surprise look and run, little Timmy, run. Jump in daddy’s arms and hide your face while making sobbing noises. Big Tim, kiss little Timmy on the head and tell him you love him. Little Timmy, look into the camera and say, I love you too daddy. Bury face in daddy’s shoulder, and . . . scene.
Wait, we have to do that one over. Kayla was in the background eating her boogers. Again. Can someone escort Kayla to the cafeteria for a snack please? Now let’s take it from little Timmy’s surprise expression. Action!
And so it goes time and time again. I expect there to be more of these scenes until the end of the year.
Don’t get me wrong. Like I said, I want them to come home and be greeted with love and open arms. My issue is with whomever it was who called Channel 5 and told them that Big Tim would be at little Timmy’s school at exactly 8:16 Tuesday morning. Not much of a surprise now, is it TV news crew? Yeah, the camera gave it away just a little. Well, maybe not for little Timmy. He’s a little slow.
Nothing gives you a better feeling than when you see your loved one return from facing war or the possibility of war abroad. But lately, and I mean in the last few weeks or so, there has been an influx of news specials featuring service personnel’s’ “surprise” homecomings. And frankly, it’s gettin’ on my nerves.
I’ll admit the first 5, 10, even 20 times were very touching, real tear jerkers if you will. But when it happens every other day for three weeks, it becomes somewhat oh-not-this-againish. Don’t get me wrong, I want them to come home and be greeted lovingly by family and friends and even well meaning strangers. And there should be tears of joy, there should be hugs and kisses, there should be total relief filled faces. What there shouldn’t be is a full camera crew including director, producer and two assistant grips filming the entire occasion.
The problem is that it seems so staged now, there’s just no real feel of genuine emotion coming through the flat screen anymore.
As if on cue, camera one pans to little Timmy conveniently sitting on the opposite side of the room. Reporter, report! What little Timmy doesn’t know is that his dad, Big Tim is returning home from Iraq today and will surprise him in the middle of his English class (A class that little Timmy is failing terribly by the way. He continues to spell Iraq with two ‘k’s and a ‘w’. We may want to think about surprising little Timmy with a DVD of Sesame Street when this is all over.)
Wait, we have to do that one over. Kayla was in the background eating her boogers. Again. Can someone escort Kayla to the cafeteria for a snack please? Now let’s take it from little Timmy’s surprise expression. Action!
And so it goes time and time again. I expect there to be more of these scenes until the end of the year.
Don’t get me wrong. Like I said, I want them to come home and be greeted with love and open arms. My issue is with whomever it was who called Channel 5 and told them that Big Tim would be at little Timmy’s school at exactly 8:16 Tuesday morning. Not much of a surprise now, is it TV news crew? Yeah, the camera gave it away just a little. Well, maybe not for little Timmy. He’s a little slow.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
A New Day
I was mad, hurt, dumbfounded, irked, pissed, and at one point extremely hungry, but I didn’t want to eat, because I was so ANGRY. I was gonna show those mean ol’ people a thing a two. I wasn’t going to eat lunch! But I remembered I had brought in those delicious noodles and my mouth started watering. Yeah, those cheap noodles where you get like 1,679 for $1? Man, add some garlic powder, a little green onion, white pepper, some grilled chicken and a little parmesan cheese, and you got yourself something right there. Oh, yeah I have that recipe copywritten so don’t EVEN think about going all Paula Deenish on me and calling it your own.
So anywho, once I sat down and had lunch with a friend I felt better. I was still hurt, but the cut didn’t feel as deep. Then later that day, after I stopped at my favorite store (to be revealed later), I had forgotten all about the horrid happenstance from earlier in the day. Until my husband brought it up. “So what happened at work?” When I told him, HE got all mad, and I had to calm him down. And in telling him that it wasn’t so bad, that it wasn’t the end of the world and that worse things have happened, I realized that maybe the whole thing wasn’t so bad after all. What was the final effect on me in the end? Not a doggone thing. Nothing in my life would change. So what the heck was I griping for? Who knows?
And this morning I woke up with a better attitude and a regenerated understanding of how life can be all that I need it to be if I stop letting the stupid stuff get to me. Things happen and some people are put on this earth to make those things happen. I can either stop and let those people and things get to me, or I can continue on my path to get where I’m going. When something bad happens, I have to put it behind me as soon as possible and look forward to moving on.
That's the best thing for anyone to do.
Today is a new day. Don’t look back on tomorrow. You might run into a wall and knock out a tooth. That happened to me in 1st grade.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Cinco de Ridiculous
A school in California sent a few students home on May 5, because the Hispanic principal at the school felt it was disrespectful for students to wear red, white and blue and clothes with the American flag depicted on the day of a Mexican holiday .
Oh. Em. Gee. What the heck is going on here people? Please keep in mind that the school's dress code does NOT prohibit wearing clothes with the American flag depicted nor the colors red, white & blue.
First of all, Cinco de Mayo is an American fueled holiday geared to make people spend money on booze and trinkets. Kind of like most holidays celebrated in America. Cinco de Mayo isn't even a big deal in Mexico. So why in the name of sanity is there an uproar in a California school about kids wearing the colors of the American flag.
Why are we always so much more concerned with how other people feel over the concerns of our own feelings, families and traditions.
The anti-Christmas rally faltered after retailers tried to keep the Christ out of Christmas and attempted to make that time of year all about greeting the season. The backlash from Americans was too much of a force to be reckoned with, so they "allowed" the Christ back in.
But now we're saying its wrong to display the colors of the American flag because we choose to celebrate a third rate Mexican holiday? Really?
Seriously. What is really going on here?
http://www.nbcbayarea.com/news/local-beat/Students-Wearing-American-Flag-Shirts-Sent-Home-92945969.html
Oh. Em. Gee. What the heck is going on here people? Please keep in mind that the school's dress code does NOT prohibit wearing clothes with the American flag depicted nor the colors red, white & blue.
First of all, Cinco de Mayo is an American fueled holiday geared to make people spend money on booze and trinkets. Kind of like most holidays celebrated in America. Cinco de Mayo isn't even a big deal in Mexico. So why in the name of sanity is there an uproar in a California school about kids wearing the colors of the American flag.
Why are we always so much more concerned with how other people feel over the concerns of our own feelings, families and traditions.
The anti-Christmas rally faltered after retailers tried to keep the Christ out of Christmas and attempted to make that time of year all about greeting the season. The backlash from Americans was too much of a force to be reckoned with, so they "allowed" the Christ back in.
But now we're saying its wrong to display the colors of the American flag because we choose to celebrate a third rate Mexican holiday? Really?
Seriously. What is really going on here?
http://www.nbcbayarea.com/news/local-beat/Students-Wearing-American-Flag-Shirts-Sent-Home-92945969.html
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