T... is for Termination

We all know the routine, you go to work you get paid; but what you dont know is why you got fired. Well I am here to tell your stupid ass a few things to watch out for.

People do some stupid stuff that gets them fired like, not coming to work, stealing, taking too long a break, cussing out your boss, you know stupid shit. So as a person who has fired many people I am going to get real with you on Termination Thursday.

Top 10 Ways to know you might get fired:

10 - You the only one in the office that punches a clock.

9 - Your job routinely involves someone asking you “can you please go get me a…”

8 - You routinely tell your friends “Fuck that job! I can get another one…”

7 - You think they REALLY need you but you went on vacation for 3 weeks, you came back and the shit was better

6 - They hire you an assistant to train but you are never busy

5 - You have been there a year and you are still a temp

4 - You are the only one in the office who’s school initials end in “-CC”

3 - You are late to work, EVERYDAY!

2 - Your school has a commercial that comes on during Judge Mathis

1 - You work in a position where you refer to your boss as “Mr./Mrs. ‘First name’…” (i.e this is my boss Miss Kathy)

Stupid people get fired, smart people get LAID OFF. Only one can you control. See I have been known to fire a bitch while I was on vacation because I am not your friend, I am your employer or an agent thereof. So in business it is a little different than that other shit, it is like … uh we work together you are not my friend... I don’t want to see your alien looking kids or hear your problems because I will tell everyone I know. I don’t mix friends and work just like I don’t mix my food when I eat, each is separate.

One way to tell you may be the one on the chopping block is spotting easy shit like this:

Worker 1: “Hey Buddy, what do you have going on this weekend?”

Worker 2: “ Oh not much just going to the beach, chores, doing some work; you?”

Worker 1: “Oh you are not going to the company party?”

Worker 2: “…..(PAUSE) what party?”

When you start not knowing office shit, start knowing a recruiter; because your days are numbered.

Men … How to keep your woman… Do what the HELL YOU need to do… Guidance from a Gay Man… vol 2

This gay brother got a lot of flack for only writing to the girls last week, so I am bringing that chicken home to roost. Men, you have the same obligation as a woman does to keeping a happy home, and if you are not in a home together you are MORE obligated to keep your shit straight.

Men, you are not yarn and she is not Rumpelstiltskin so she cannot spin your sorry ass into gold. You need to “get it together” keep it straight, or whatever hood rat phrases you use. If you are Muslim get your rug out, face east and pray on it, Jewish call your homey from Temple, Christian get some olive oil and a Bible; all that to say get it right and get it tight, because you have work to do too. For some of you it may take a miracle.

There are some simple steps here that will help you in keep your shit right. There will be no mock conversations because this is YOU shit, not watch for this shit like it was for the ladies. Men are not smart enough to talk about the goodness of the candy they got at home because they don’t know what is a fake orgasm and a real one, I will tell you how to know….. And shit I am gay.

Step One: Have Gay Friends

Straight men get the hell over yourself and get some gay friends. Let me put you on notice, we don’t want you; because if we did you would know it. You aint got shit over shine-ola otherwise you would not need a Gay Man telling you how to keep your shit right.

Gay men do more straight shit than you think. We all don’t synchronized swim. What you need to do is this, show that you are comfortable around the homosex, because it will make you more appealing to women, more importantly your woman. Take it from a gay man who has satisfied many a woman, I can have her if I wanted her, and I don’t want you or her.

Besides when you have gay friends you have a built in reminder to fix your shirt, get your eyesbrows done, tell you to buy new shoes, you know some who is more than willing to tell you what not to wear.

In this case a gay man is like a puppy in the park, except we don’t need to be walked and we come with our shots. We can help you relate because, unfortunately we know women better than your stupid ass does. She needs us, but you need us more.

Step Two: Buy a DAMN CALENDAR

How hard is this? I mean really how hard is this. You are not Ronald Reagan and you don’t have as many houses as McCain so you can remember shit, so what you need to do is get a PDA or an old fashioned calendar and remember shit. Because the more you forget the less you will get, trust me. You forget the wrong shit and you will be out on the porch.

How easy is it to remember a birthday, an anniversary, a first this, a first that? Let me tell you it is a lot easier and less painful than remembering the last of anything … So go to the store and buy a damn calendar. Then when you have it use it and surprise a bitch from time to time, because like I told the women last week, “what you won’t do another muthafuckah will” and you can take that shit to the bank and you will not need the FDIC. You ain’t nothing special, every bipedal man got the same shit you do, you did not patent that shit.

Step Three: Smell Right and Get it Tight

Smell Right

Clean your nasty ass, and by ass I mean your whole being, that includes the inside of your mouth. Wash under your b-sac and your taint, because she will not be a Magellan to your Cape of Good Hope if it smells like baby vomit. Nobody wants a dirty assed, smelly bastard with stank ass breath lying all up on them.
What does that mean, get some loofa, some good lotion, a pumice stone, toe nail clippers, baby whipes, and an extra toothbrush and use them all.

Loofa – To exfoliate your crusty ass skin
Good Lotion – ALERT – white people get ashy too and it looks like brick mortar so get your ass some loation and handle up EVERYDAY before you leave the dame house
Pumice Stone – Women you need to know this too, you need to hit that crusty heel like Babe Ruth. Nothing worse than some crack ass heels rubbing some soft skin in hot moments of sin. Which leads right into…
Toe nail clippers – groom your nails it is simple… if it goes past the skin you wont win, nobody wants their Achilles cut but your razor sharp bullshit
Baby whipes – Just take care of your asshole, you wont get hemorrhoids
Extra toothbrush – Yeah, all that shit you eat all day, that is what you breathe smells like… that with a topping of baby shit
Now that you smell right, you need to get it tight.

Get it Tight

I don’t care what you look like, go to the gym. I don’t care what sport you USED to play, go to the gym . I don’t care what you USED to be able to run the 40 in, make a touchdown in, dunk the ball in, or any of that shit; you need to be in the gym. Why? Because you need to look like who she is reading about, and last I checked she is not reading about Wilford Brimley.

Look men, you are never going to look like Antonion Sabato, Jr. you may never look like Junior from the Taco Stand but you need to try, and she needs to know you are trying, why? Because the muthafuckah that steals her away, oh he is for damn sure is trying, trust me. I see him in the gym every day, why? BECAUSE I AM AT THAT BITCH!!! Like you should be.

Buy some damn clothes while you at it. CONCERT REGALIA is not, IS NOT a fashion item. Frame that shit. This goes double for shit with a Weed Flower on it (hats, shirts, etc.). No one woman wants you to meet their friends when you are dressed like you just came from a Snoop Party. While smoking weed might be cool for you all wearing the shit is cool for NO ONE!!! You a grown ass man, get yourself some “staples”, and if you don’t know your “staples”, you know me, so call and I will tell you. How is she going to introduce you to a friend at the mall and you are in a damn Toadies t-shirt? Now tell me that.

She needs you to try, because effort goes a long way with a woman… So the last thing you need to try is manscaping. Now some of you might be screaming, “oh that shit is gay”; let me think which is worse you looking like Chewbacca or you doing that gay shit and trimming your man parts, and I mean ALL OF THEM!!! If you don’t want to venture down when she looks like Don King, she damn sure does not want to get a hair pic to go through your shit that looks like Macy Gray. Not Hot…

Get that damn back waxed while you are at it, she should not think you have on a shirt when you don’t, some people are into that but if she is not, then you are not. Remember that all you need to do is try and when you try that will get you the Golden Ticket.

Step Four (yeah you need an extra step b/c men are not right): Work it like a PART TIME JOB!!

Now look this blog may not have been the funniest one of the bunch, but it was needed you boys are falling off in at least of the 3 above and if you are not you MUST be falling off in this one.
You better work that shit like a PART TIME JOB. If you cannot hit it, tap it, slap it, rub it, taste it, feel it right, guess what? You got it… another muthafuckah will. More women than men cheat ….Why? Men aint shit in bed. That is it, period; call Judge Judy.

Men you are selfish. You think when you are done she is done, well you dead wrong. As a gay man who has satisfied many women let me set you straight. I can butter that bread any way she likes it, why? Because I am good that is why. My shit is like CATNIP!!

I can hear it now, “No man my shit is the bomb, my shit is good; she is always coming to get this”; if the rest of your shit is not right, THE ONLY reason she is coming back is because she has not found anything better. Trust me. You have the same equipment as 48% of the World’s population and I seriously doubt your shit is all that you say it is if it was you would be in the circus or on the internet getting some money. Stop talking about your shit like you got an anaconda when you have a garden snake. Look be confident in what you got, don’t tell someone “I can long dick you from across the street” unless it is true. That is why I say it all the time.
You must understand this fundamental thing it is not about size it is about DELIVERY. If you can pick her olive with your toothpick, I bet you cash money she keeps bringing you back to her martini.
TRUTH: Your woman is faking the Big “O”, and by O I don’t me Oprah, I mean ORGASM. You will know when she has had an Orgasm because you will get scared. You will think she is possessed. If your woman stops talking in English and slaps you with her foot, you might be close. If she grabs you by the eyelid and tells you don’t stop, you might be close. But you know you have hit it when she can turn on electronics without a remote. But you have to find it, and that is the problem, you don’t want to explore.

If your women is tired coming home from work EVERY NIGHT – it means you cannot tap it right . You need to buy a sex book and do everything in that book like you are tracing letters in 1st grade. You need to do it so good you make her face numb, you need to do it so good she has to walk to work sideways, you need to hit it so well that she does a flip like a Chinese gymnast at the end.

Let me let you in on a little secret this is how you know you are doing your job in the sac; your women beats you to it…. And by it I mean everything. I mean she want that shit so bad she will take an unpaid sick day for it. She will skip naked in the rain to get to it. She needs to be your #1 fan, she needs to be crying at the end of that concert. If she has never met you at the door in her drawers, you aint hitting it right, if she has never cooked for you in the nude, you aint hitting it right, so let me help you…

How do you hit it right?

Last longer – if you are done in ten minutes, you better phone a friend. Get you endorphins up and do some Kaegal exercises and get your shit on the 45 minute plan, and by 45 minutes I mean AT LEAST…

Surprise a bitch – while you are at the gym you need to work on your core and leg strength because you need to pick a bitch up walk her around and toss her around a bit. She will proudly go to work with a ripened black eye if she likes the way she got it. Now if she has not hit the gym, don’t try it … Period… you will be in traction the rest of your damn life.

Lastly, you have to go downtown, and not in a punk ass way. You need to eat that shit like a Las Vegas buffet. Lick it like you are eating a Jello pudding snack without a spoon. You need toeat it so well that make her sing like Jennifer Hudson and dance like MC Hammer doing that Typewriter dance. You do that, and you have it made. Trust me!

OK I am done with you for today…. Actually I am not …

Tell her she looks nice. Women go through too much damn trouble to look good for your sorry asses for you to show up with a Triathlon free t-shirt and some Tevas on. She will always look better than you, but she AT LEAST needs to want to look at you, because while you want her to look like the girl in MAXIM, I am sure she does not want you looking like a character from Family Guy .... so get it together….

Yeah so I hit you hard… You need to be … You need to get it right…

And if you got shit to say… add a comment…

Telegram Tuesday 08.26.2008

Good morning, good morning, good people, good morning. You know me, I am Dragatha and I am back, so put on your good reading glasses because the time is right. Let me first apologize for the tardiness of this post. I am on the road and the internet was acting up, but you know like they say “You can’t keep a good ho down” so I am up and running again. And to those of you who had something to say about it not being up, you can kiss my ass, I don’t see any checks with your name on them coming my way.

Holla

So let’s get this shit started. First off I need more email, hardly any of you bitches emailed me this week . EMAIL ME ...

I picked out two good questions from two raggedy assed people. But first let me give my props to MObama and HRC, them sistahs held there shit DOWN!!! The packed a bag full of mess and unfolded every piece for these bitches. Michele was like “American Dream, what?” and Hillary took it all the way to the Underground Railroad…. You don’t bring up Harriet unless you serious … WHEW it was too much for this old girl to handle…

Dear Dragatha:

My man got me a new Louis Vuitton purse for our six month anniversary. He says it is real, and I want to believe him. Now, I know these purses are expensive, and he does not have a job. He says it is not stolen or from Eastern Market or Canal Street. But how can I be sure it is real?

Very truly yours,

- Deserves a real purse for putting up with his ass for six months

Dear Deserves:

What you deserves is an ass whooping or for you to get your weave loosened. Why in the hell are you with his sorry ass if he does not have a JOB???? This story is wrong on multiple levels. Let me examine them for you.

First off if he does not have a job, he should not have you. REREAD that shit, write it on a piece of paper, and put it in your fake ass purse. Why are you with a man with no job? What is it with you women? He must do something right and since you did not mention it I am going to guess.

- He is not a cook because you did not say that he can cook, and if he could he would what? HAVE A JOB! Even if it was at the Waffle House

- He does not have a drivers’ license because if he did he could upgrade that shit and drive a bus

- He has baby mama drama. Because he would be working if he did not have to pay all that support

So since I cleared up the sideline shit, here is the real, you are with him because he can “butter yo bread” and not with money honey. He is tearing you up like a paper shredder. You in love with a raggedy ass sorry man who can tap your ass like it is a beer keg. Plain and simple. So don’t bullshit me. Shit….

Who gives a damn if he bought you a purse? Futhermore, who cares if it is real, bitch you prolly work at the phone company who you trying to fool? I see you all the time on the Red Line to Shady Grove or on the Ghost Train to Midtown; girl you are on THE TRAIN, in a UNIFORM with a 800 dollar purse, Stevie Wonder can see that shit.

Girl, you better call it like it is, your man is on the Hustle and if he will run that game for you and buy you a fake ass purse you better take it and walk that shit like it is real. Walk that shit like you are in Milan and you are coming out right behind Tyra. Now, don’t take it too far because I can spot a real purse any day; and you may want to know how do I do what I do? Well, I look all the way down a bitch’s leg and I check out the shoes. If a bitch has on some Payless BoGo shit and is carrying a Louis Vuitton, she needs to save that for Halloween, because that is the best time to parade around like you in some shit.

Bottom line, get a man with a job. I mean Mr. Louis Vuitton may be spreading you like Jif but he aint helping you with anything but your libido. While you are at work he is either out hustling or in eating your pork rinds, using your hot sauce, drink your water, sitting on your couch, what Judge Mathis on your TV. All the while you robbing Peter to pay Paul, stealing power from your neighbors meter and calling your cousin to turn your water meter back. Girl get it together.

--- p.s. when you dump the Hustler give him my number….

Your Girl,

The Drag C

Dear Dragatha:

What is the best bikini to camouflage a large FUPA (fat upper pussy area)?

Sincerely,

- Wants to have a great Labor Day weekend at the beach

Uh Wants To:

Ohh gurl. Uh, let me see, well. You should, damn. You have a what FUPA? I thought that was a Labor Union. Uh wait a minute, I am calling Dr. Oz….

Guuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrlllllllllllllllllllllllllllll. You in trouble girl, I just saw this commercial that your polar habitat is melting. I don’t know what you SHOULD wear but a bikini is not it. It is too cold where you are from….

But if you must go, wear some drapes, or a shower curtain since it is the beach, maybe even a box, or better yet a car. How about this, you don’t go because they will call the wildlife reserve to come get you because they will think you have beached….

Holla at your girl…

Always Honest,

DC

Always remember...

....if need advice of have a dispute and cannot find Judge Judge ... Just email me bitch .. EMAIL ME @ soyouthinkiammean@gmail.com....

Blast from the Past ... Vol 2.... Toilet Humor (Originally Aired 9/21/2001)

Hey Folks,

How is everyone? I hope that all of you are fine. Since i rarely hear
from any of you I hope that you all have not fallen off the face of the
earth. I will begin by first saying that my heart goes out to all those
affected by last weeks tragedy, and i hope that we can keep in our minds
and in our hearts the meaning and expressions of peace. Okay... Now
that I did that.

Most of you know that i do not usually write these mass emails unless i
have something funny and self deprecating to say, well today is your
lucky day. Since i am still fairly new to our nations capital everyday
brings a brand new fresh set of weird funny and freaky shit to light.
So what am i to do? None other than write about it. I will preface
this all by saying if you are easily offended, do not read (i usually
wait until I can offend the largest cross section possible that way i do
not seem biased), if you do not like profane words -- move your ass on
to the next email in your box (I am trying to cut down on my profanity
in normal everyday convo, but it is just too expressive for me in email
form), lastly remember I love all of you and try to do nothing but
express to you all how screwed up my life really is, and see what you
all think about my adventures.

Toilet Humor -


Those of you who know me know that I hate public restrooms but I accept
them as a necessary evil in this complex world we live in. Well usually
if i have to potty (not pee) I will hold for as long as possible before
i will use a public restroom. Sometimes that does not work. So my
story begins, I am at Tysons Corner Mall in Virginia surveying the food
court restroom (at this point i had been to all the common area
restrooms and they were NASTY), it was very clean and had a nice piney
odor to it which i knew would help out in a minute :). So i go all the
way down to the handicapped stall (most room, you have to have room) and
begin to prepare to do my business. Before i actually begin i notice
that this toilet has a seat riser for people in wheelchairs. Rather
turned off by this I begin to look in the other stalls (all being empty)
they are not quite as clean so i suck it up and go to the wheelchair
stall. Now a few of you may know of the dilemmas i have had in public
restrooms, namely the wheelchair incident and the boss who had the
squirts and i began to laugh. Anyway, back to the toilet story. So
after preparation, i sit down on the crown and i immediately notice the
fact that I am way too high off the ground to be sitting on a toilet.

So i do what i have to do to get comfortable. As i sit there feet
swinging in the wind i finish up, and I reach over to my left to get the
TP to finish my business. As i lean over a bit the toilet riser shifts
cause the actual seat itself to fall into the bowl a bit (I am sure you
all can figure out what I am talking about). So I fall off the bowl and
in my hurry to stand up/catch myself I fall forward hitting the stall
front wall and door. Well I am sure you all know the amount of force IT
DOES NOT take to open a stall door and those little knobby locks they
have cannot even keep a 2 year old out, so the door flies open, I freak
out look around no one is out there (so I think at this point) so I have
to hold the door closed as I finish up. This is not going to work,
something is going to have to give. I cannot hold the door and pull my
pants up without letting the door go. At this point the restroom door
opens and people rush in a whole slew of them, long enough for a line . All i can think of now is staples, why can't i just fix this with staples :) (to help some of you I was known to fix my clothing with staples back in the day)

Now I am standing in the stall, holding my pants half way up with one
hand and the door with the other, thinking -- this is the most fucked up
thing in the world, WHY ME? Now i figure out that if i sit back on the
bowl i can hold the door closed with my feet, easy enough so i sit, I
grip the door with my toes and i pull up my pants as quickly as
possible. Now the moment of truth, i look back at the toilet and it
looks to be in need of some repair, so as i stand like a ice skater
using one foot to hold the door closed, i wrap my hands in TP and try to fix the
toliet seat by sitting it back up in it proper place. it does not work
(or stay for that matter) so i just perch it up there, knowing that
whomever uses it next is going to fall on their ass. Needless to say by
this point i have been talking out loud, saying things like "Oh DAMN",
"STUPID STUPID STUPID", and "This is BAD" to myself the whole time and
making the wierd noises i make when i get frustrated so it is
embarrassing when i walk out to a restroom full of old men from what
seem to be a nursing home laughing and pointing. This really does not
bother me i mean i get laughed at all the time, the pointing part sucked
but whatever -- old people do what they do. None of them catch my eye
except for one ho begins to move towards the stall as I am leaving the
restroom, the handicapped one. He has a walker, now i know he going to
need the riser. I am washing my hands as he slowly moves past behind me
in the mirror. "What do i do?", that is all i can think, "what do I
do?", so before i can even stop thinking i blurt out "Dont use that
toliet I broke it!!" and I jet out of the restroom. Now i do not know
what happened to that old man, but no worry of mine I mean i did not
mean to break the toilet.

Freedom Friday

The “free-ist” part about Friday is that I can write bout anything. But I am going to be quick today and write about one thing. Bad clothing choices. That’s it.

Project Runway

First I will begin with Project Runway. If you don’t watch that shit, find a friend who does and have them explain it to you. This week the challenge was to make clothing for Drag Queens (a challenge they should have every season if you ask me). So they drag in the best set of Drag Queens they could find in New York City. Some superstar, some just sitting around with no booking, and of course RuPaul.

Now to tell me that RuPaul is going to be on TV is like telling a child Santa Claus is coming to town, I mean I was sitting there with baited breath. Then I saw the bitch.....

Ooooh weeeeee, girl look tired!!! She looked like a cross between a swiffer duster and a black Barbie (or more like a Bratz doll). I mean, yeah she is 47 which when you have to have 2 wardrobes means you are really 84, and trust me that bitch looked every minute of it. Wearing that TIRED ass whig and face all sunken in... Ohh just sad.

I mean it looks that this tired piece of mess woke up late and forgot she had a booking. Just for a moment, pause and close your eyes and remember the Rupaul of SUPERMODEL. Now open your eyes and feast them on this tired leftover piece of something. Couple that with that Jaclyn Smith KMART shirt and jewelry and you have a South Detroit Beauty Paegant.

Just look...



Good thing you cannot cast off judges because this girl here could have used a trip to that damn Loreal Paris Hair and Make up Room. Ohhh that wig.

I would sell fire in gasoline drawers before I wore that bullshit.

TIRED BITCH, TIRED!!!






And Michael Kors knows he was wrong when he called that Tanorexic Boys outfit from a dinosaur from a Gay Jurassic Park. He was wrong because he knew that outfit belonged to RuPaul, gay ass pterodactyl just swooping down to get some nasty mess.

Witness a gay dinosaur....now really which one looks like it hails from the Jurassic Era... RU RU RU !!









JUST A HOT DAMN SHAME!!!!












What not to wear .... Trains

So I am catching the train to the office and see this trashy hot mess....



Who told this child that it was “Ranger Day on the Red Line” she needs her ass whooped, then someone needs to whoop her mommas as for letting her leave the house in that bullshit.

What not to wear ... message T’s

If I have said it once I have said it 1000 times, everyone cannot wear every thing. END OF SUBJECT -- NO DEBATE NEEDED...

Well when you see a shirt like this...

If you are me (slightly perverted) you laugh your ass off, which I did. And if you freaky (like me) you may want to know if a bitch is serious. BUT when you look at who (or what) is wearing the shirt you damn near have to buckle over in pain. She look like a naked mole rat. Just a hot mess.


First of all I would not lick that shit anymore than I would eat at a 27/7 Chinese Buffet in Compton. Some shit you don't do...




Besides someone needs sell this chick a box perm, or at least loan her a hot comb.

I mean DAMN her hair look like Kim Carnes' voice (the gay men will get it)!!!

GOOD DAY!!!

T.... Thursdays

Yo!

How you all doing? I am getting by today, just getting by. Rough day..

I did thought want to hit you up with T... Thursdays. Today's 'T' is for 'talk too much'....

Greg Smith also known as Greg "The Barber" Smith is the man who knocked out Suge Knight, and Greg, well Greg talk too much. Now some of you may not know who Suge Knght is, so let me explain it. Suge Knight used to be the CEO of Death Row Records, he is suspected to have orchestrated the killing of Tupac Shakur and Notorious B.I.G. so that should tell you what crop we are talking about.

Let me start with this... If I saw Suge Knight I would not say shit. If I smelled Suge Knight I would not say shit. If Suge Knight was my cousin I WOULD NOT SAY SHIT!!!! Shit, if I was Suge Knight I would keep my mouth shut for fear I would whoop my own ass...

First of why look the Devil in the eye? And secondly when you look at his ass why you have to dance with him. Suge Knight is the Devil. That's it. Furthermore, I am not going to bullshit with a man who killed 2 men who had 10 bodyguards combined a man who goes to prison and is still having folks "offed" this brotha is the Black Al Capone. And this fool got in to brawl with him and then went all over the radio, the internet, and some tv talking about how Suge Knight ain't shit.

Uh let me clarify. Suge Knight is shit. He Big Shit, he sitting for 2 hours on the toilet shit. He is the kind of shit you tell people about when you done. Suge Knight is shit.


Knocking out Suge Knight, that is some nasty shitty mess. First of all why in the hell you fucking with Suge Knight? You need better company. I mean really if all you do is cut hair stick to fades and edge ups, leave the ass whoopin' to the professionals, not yo ass. To top that off, after all this talking Suge Knight put a 'call' on his ass. (A 'call' is when you let e'erybody know who you looking for and what you got for they ASS!! The call was so bad that LAPD went to get Greg Smith on an "outstanding warrant". I doubt it, they put him in jail strictly on 'ass whoop protection'.

Here is the reality, you remember the saying "don't write a check you ass cannot cash", see Greg wrote that check to Suge, but you know Suge is a felon and cannot get a checking account so he is coming to whoop up on that ass for not paying in CASH!!! Plain and simple. If Suge Knight was around me talking shit even if I knew I could whoop his ass, guess what? I am taking one for the team and getting my black ass whooped. I would shine his shoes and dance a soft shoe, but I will be damned if I whoop his ass and then have him hunting me down like I am the unibomber. I would say Osama Bin Laden but we stopped looking for him a long time ago. LAPD doe no need to pic me up, trust.

SHIT, YOU CRAZY. Bragging rights are not worth all that. What is the lesson? Stop talking so damn much!!

Women .. How to keep your man .. do what the hell you need to do... Guidance from a Gay Man

Here it is in plain fucking English. I am tired of watching Divorce Court, Jerry, Judge Judy, Maury, or any other crazy ass show that has a “he left me for my best friend theme”. If he left you for her that is your damn fault. You have the same equipment that raggedy whore who stole your piece does so if you are not working it right that is on you. Done.

People get complacent real fast and that is the problem here, complacency. What women don’t realize is that you need to be more on your game the longer your relationship goes.

I am going to use this Wisdom Wednesday to let you know what really needs to happen to keep your man with you, and coming home to you EVERYDAY!!! In three easy steps..

Women, how to keep your MAN:

Step One:

Tell those hoes to hire a handyman. Some people would tell you to not have any attractive friends or something like that, but I have said time and time again it is not the cute ones you need to worry about. You need to face it, mediocre to ugly bitches will steal your man. Period, re-read and write down. What you need to convey to your friends is your man cannot fix SHIT, he is so bad he cannot change a light bulb, because as soon as you tell that ho that he is handy, he will be in her hand and she will have stolen your man, all under the guise of a broken door lock or a drippy faucet.

Straight women, I don’t get it. You work so damn hard to get a man and then when you’ve got him you let him roam the outward plain unsupervised. Take it from a gay man, men are dumb; they are lured in by stupid shit, like a call at 12AM that a bitch cannot unlock her door. WHAT? You need to train your man that that kind of call is intended to get him in some Kobe Bryant/Mike Tyson kind of mess. The kind of mess you may have to kill him for. Tell him and your bitch ass friends he is not Rota Rooter or Pop A Lock …

This is how it needs to play out:

Your Man: “Hello this is Larry”

Your Ho Ass Friend: “Hey, Larry this is Tish”

Your Man: “Hey Tish, what it do?”

(I will pause here, if you have a man who talks like this, you need to let your ho ass friend have his sorry ass, no man who talks like this can do shit for you long term)

Your Ho Ass Friend: “Nothing, hey Larry I know Kisha out of town but I cannot get my door unlocked and I am afraid I will break the key off in it can you come help me”

(This is where a well trained man would say, “no girl you need to call your cousin or your brother and see who can help you deal with that, it is too late for me to be out like that”)

Your Man: “Yeah, girl where you stay at?”

(His ignorant ass never saw it coming, NEVER)

Mess, mess, mess, mc mess mess. Next thing you know your hiring that show Cheaters to bust him out because he is buying new clothes and ironing and shit, but not for you. And you never expected Kisha because she has been your girl since middle school and besides she is healthy and not all that attractive and wears HO CLOTHES…. Which brings me to Step Two.

Step Two:

Ugly bitches will do anything. You can define ugly by attitude, looks, whatever; but what you need to define is your plan of attack. You need to keep your good shit as secret as a VP pick, don’t tell your girls that you man is good at shit. Remember he cannot fix shit, that part is easy the hard part is the money and the sex. You are so proud that your man is successful and can work you out better than a Wii Fit that you feel the need to tell every bitch you know.

And it goes a little something like this:

You: “Girl, Kisha, girl Larry has a good job, girl ooh and he only has to work one shift, girl. He may have a friend up at the plant that you can meet”

Your Ho Ass Friend: “Girl, I need me a man with benefits, you know little Jubari has asthma, so I need a Postman or something like that, somebody with a low copay, girl”

You: “Mmmmm but that aint it. He can work it behind the doors too…”

(this is where you made your mistake, don’t tell that single ho ass bitch your man is good in bed. Do you see how she dress, that should tell you how desperate she is and you just put your shit on MAIN STREET, you just made a pact with the Devil.)

Your Ho Ass Friend: “What? He can? Better than your ex?”

You: “Bitch, that is why he is my ex.”

Your Ho Ass Friend: “Damn you lucky, girl I need to get my front door fixed.”

You: “What?”

Your Ho Ass Friend: “Nothing just thinking to the future..."

(BOOM! That is the setup, she just set the stage for the takeover. She is Palestine and you are Israel, and you are about to fight over his silly ass like the West Bank)

Lesson here is what? Your man cannot fuck, I hate to be crude, but put that shit on the street. You can package it like you want, but you better let the word go forth, that he aint shit in bed. Best to tell all the nasty ho ass friends you have that he is bad in bed, tell them bitches ‘it hurt going in and sting coming out’. That is how you hold your shit down.. but only if you can handle Step Three too…

STEP THREE:

Work your JELLY. I mean you better work it and work it until you can’t stand up. You need to work your shit so good in bed, that you both may need to call in sick the next day. Because let me tell you this, what you won’t do some other raggedy bitch will, so if you want to keep your man you better take the plunge. It is simple, if your man wants to fold you up like a piece of Origami you better get to stretching. If he want to put on a Miner’s Hat with a light on top and explore your caverns, your better sell tickets to the tour. If he wants to put on a cape and jump through the window, you better buy a cat woman suit.

My point. Do what the fuck you need to do, because it will be that nasty, raggedy, bitch you know that steals him from you. And it won’t be who you think. Remember that. You need to keep shit right on the home front, because if you don’t someone else what? WILL!!!

Until next time, holla….

Telegram Tuesday 08.19.2008

Good morning, good morning, good people, good morning.

My name is Dragatha Christie. Scooter has so graciously invited me into his world to be his advice columnist. Please know that I am not Dr. Joyce Brothers but I do like the Brothers, so keep it together and get ready for real advice on Telegram Tuesday.

When writing please refer to me as Dragatha, Ms. Christie, or Ms. Dragatha Christie; but never as Draggie, Drag C, or some mess like that. It is Dragatha Christie, or D.C. if you nasty…

Alright here is Day One of this bullshit, and remember I don’t get paid and I am not censored so when you write to me, bring me flavor because I am fancy. Remember that is fancy, not fancie, or fancee; I am a respectable Drag Queen, I may look like the preacher’s wife but I fight like Lenox Lewis, so just be ready.

Today’s entries focus on two distinct personal issues on the one hand we have appearance concerns and on the other we have relationship issues, let’s begin with the appearance concerns….

Dear Dragatha Christie:

I am 24, 5'2" weigh 265, and I am very classy. I am big busted. I have a fairly large stomach (although the breasts hide almost all of it). I also have a nice, round behind and thick thighs. Some people have told me that I resemble Beyonce. I like to dress sexy, but I also need to be professional for my job at the telemarketing agency. What sort of clothes will work best on me to help me look my best while still keeping my own personal style?

- Wants to Look Good

Dear Wants To:

Huh? You how tall? You weigh how much? You big who? Your stomach is what? Whew, girl good thing I am off that narcotic because there was a day I would have to get high to deal with a big ass girl like you; that day has long since passed and I am here to give you some advice. I have some great suggestions for you.

First off, you don’t look like Beyonce. Period. Whoever told you that is related to the person who tells me I look like Halle Barry, if anything you look like Barry White and I look like Hank Aaron, but all that aside let me help you out.

STEP ONE: Stop eating. Diet. Exercise. If you cannot do any of those, stop eating for 4 days and use the money you saved to go to some war torn West African nation and eat what they eat. You ever seen anyone fat on Save the Children, NO!!! The only fat person on there is Sally Struthers and they all look at her like she is the sacrificial cow coming to the slaughter. So I see you have a round behind, keep it. I have one word of advice, a flat assed sistah is a LONELY sistah. So if you lose some of that ass you better work on getting it back. I mean work, work that shit like a part time job.

STEP TWO: Stop dressing sexy. Some shit is better left unseen. I do not want to see your labia because your shorts are so short. Besides that I don’t think anyone needs to smell your poon. Become friends with Summer’s Eve and buy and wear bottoms that come below the knee and are not clingy. As big as your ass is the last thing you need is a yeast infection. Wear granny panties; because I don’t want you writing back telling me your thong got lost in the Netherlands of your body.

Another thing to consider if you cannot find/afford anything new to wear; get a sheet or some drapes, watch and episode of Project Runaway and “MAKE IT WORK!”. If that fails you, run down to the circus and grab that thing the drape over the elephant, that will look HOT on your big ass…

STEP THREE: As for work, you need to quit. You need to work somewhere you can move around. Try Chuckie Cheese, Barney, Sesame Street, or some shit like that. A little make up and some primary colors you would make a great stand-in.
Be Blessed,
Ms. Dragatha

And the relationship Issue….

Dear Dragatha Christie:

I recently found out that my boyfriend has a fake leg. It is only fake from the knee down. I found out it was fake because it fell off during sex (he always keeps his pants on - just the way he rolls, he told me). At first, I thought I had broken it off, so I was both relieved and disturbed to find out, no ... it was just fake. Should this be a deal breaker? He has some money, but I feel like he was not honest with me by not telling me about the fake leg. Also, it's kind of gross.

Please help.

- Needs a Leg to Stand on

Dear Needs A:

GIIIIIIIRRRRRRL, you fucked up girl. Your problem is you like thugs with a thug walk. You saw that limp and told your girlfriend with you, “girl, look at that thug walk… mmmm”; you then walked down the Subway platform and tried to hollah. See I am a truth teller, I bet you and all the other readers want to know how I know you met him on the Subway, BOOM let me tell you.

- #1 – If he had a car you would have noticed that it was handicap accessible or at least had a tag, then you would have been like, “ooh look at that walk girl” and your girl would have been like “bitch you crazy, that is limp, he handicapped”
- #2 – It is summer it is too damn hot to be standing outside, if it was the bus stop you would have noticed that fake ass foot pointed up in the air.
- #3 – Last but not least, it was not the club of the grocery store, because he could not have walked too far, and he for damn sure didn’t dance
So I got that shit on the nose. It is called deduction, bitch. This is real easy. You need to LEAVE him because he is ill equipped. Period. He has 1 ½ legs and a small Johnson. Again, deduction.

How do I know about his Johnson? I mean, who in the hell wants to be with a man that can “tap it” with his pants on. That is some freaky shit, and believe me I am all about freaky, but if you can do all you gotta do with your pants on TRUST me only one of us is leaving satisfied, AND IT AINT ME!! You need a man that when he “taps” it, needs the whole dance floor. Okay? OK. You need a man that NEEDS to pull his pants down, because you need to get to it to DO IT…

So this is what you need to do. Stay with him until the end of summer. You say he has a little piece of money so get your hair done, get your light bill covered, and maybe get some school supplies for your child (if you have one). But one thing to keep in your mind… let him down REAL easy-like because he may be a good gravy train, but to assess that you need to know if the leg is polymer plastic or wood. If it is polymer, keep him in your pocket, that means he is getting a monthly check from Uncle Sam. If wood, put a match on that ho, and let him go. Either way, when he takes it off put it under the bed so you don’t trip over it.

Love and Peace,
Dragatha

Well that is all I got today. See you next week!! And remember, always keep a combed wig on standby… you never know who is coming to the door…. and remember all questions should come to soyouthinkiammean@gmail.com....

Memory Mondays ... Blast from the Past Vol.3 The Roommate...

---- Originally distributed 30 October 2001 ----

Hello,

It is good to be back in the seat writing to you all again. It took a while to write this one because of lack of material, but I think that it has all come together. In this issue we will take a look at the roommate.....

The Roommate.

The Pot:

Those of you who are new to the list do not know that I hate one of my roommates. He is not very socially acclimated and just plain pisses me off most of the time. Well it all started with raisins. He has these raisins from Iran that he eats that look like little yellow roaches. I asked him where he got them and he said “my mom sent them to me”, so I was like ok. The problem is the damn things were all in my sofa and I asked him not to eat on the sofa anymore so he has been pissed at me and Jim ever since. What bothers me about this guy is that he has a horrible voice, in fact he sounds just like Grover from Sesame Street with a slight Middle Eastern accent. I will say this much, he is scared of me after the other day. In the past few weeks he has broken a glass (no big deal), burned one of my pots blacker than James Brown, and refuses to fill the water filter jug. We will start with the pot. He cooks this Iranny shit that smells like feet and Ben Gay everyday. It really never bothered me until Jim (the cool roomie) came to me asking where his pots were. I was like, “shit I dunno, they are not my pots”. So Jim was like “I will ask Ali.”, well it goes without saying that the Mexican in Jim came out like a FOOL. Apparently, Ali threw away the pots of Jim’s after he burned them, but never said anything to Jim about it until Jim asked him. Well this is where the drama ensues. Jim started cursing in Spanish and I was sitting there on the sofa eating popcorn and watching like I was at the movies. It was okay until Jim who is about 5’4” started to push Ali who is about 6’2”, at this point I was laughing but knew I had to be the ambassador of peace in this situation. So I am standing between the two with my popcorn and laughing. So Ali knocks the popcorn out of my hand and kinda nudges me out of the way. TICK TICK BOOM!! The room fell quiet and I turned to Ali who was walking toward the kitchen and I noticed my pot on the stove. I said, “uh Ali, you cooking in my pot?” He said, “uh yeah!!” but in that kinda way like why in the hell you asking me your dumbass you can see it is your pot. So I say, “just don’t burn anything”. He say “okay” and all is well. Well about 20 minutes go by and the Iranny cuisine is burning like a the South in the Civil War. I can smell it in my room (1 floor up). As I descend down to the kitchen I see him scurrying to get the shit out of the pot, only one problem. It is burned on to my shit. Now those of you who can remember the motto that I had in college and subsequently when I lived in Dallas, “you are welcome to come over, just don’t jack with the shit is all” Well Ali had jacked with my shit and at this point I was only slightly pissed.

As I asked Ali about the pot he said, “what is the big deal it will wash out”. “True”, I said, “but you have no respect for other peoples shit so you clean it and replace Jim’s pots too.” Ali says, “you are ridiculous they are just pots YOU ALL CAN BUY NEW ONES.” Now Jim is downstairs and he is looking at me like, you gonna let him talk to you like that. Reminiscent of Sprint PCS, all I really heard was “YOU ALL” and not much else. SO, I was like (in my most ghetto sophisticated way) “you all, who the hell is you all. I aint you all, Jim aint you all. You(with finger pointing and a pause), YOU ‘you all’. We don’t eat that nasty smelling shit, ‘you all’ do. ‘You all’ the one that has got the whole damn house smelling like the damn Gaza Strip that is ‘you all’. So ‘you all’ can clean my pot, ‘you all’ can buy Jim a pot, and as far as I am concerned ‘you all' can kiss my black ass.” Well Ali kinda looked startled and stepped back. So Jim and I both thought it was about to be on, so I looked at him, like he was a visitor at church you know that --“what, what you gonna do now, what”-- look. All he said was he was going to think about it. Well that set me off again. I said, “You all don’t have much to think about” (now as I am talking he is walking over to his sofa and slams a book on the top of my tv as he is about to say something), “‘I’ do not have to buy you or Jim a damn thing”, at this point it is "Showtime at U Street" and I am ready to get with it. I said “you, you, you gonna do what?”. Now those of you who are not black or who have never been around black mothers do not quite understand the significance of the repeat. When you have something repeated to you by your mother you are in trouble, so I was hoping Ali knew the significance. Well he does not. He responded by saying, “ I said, (first mistake lies therein you never repeat to a black person what you just said by starting off “I said”, and he said it much like the 7 year old female cousin rolling her eyes) I will think about it.” Well Jim jumps in and says well you are obligated to blah blah blah, a whole bunch of lawyer yaya (Jim is an attorney). I was "Jim, like bump that shit". I don’t care what he is “obligated to do, i am telling him what he is going to do”. At this point I come to him with some ghetto reasoning. I say “Ali, this is all I have to say you don’t clean my pot and you don’t buy Jim new pots if you want to.” Now there is that phrase “if you want to” now when some tells you “if you want to” you usually don’t want to. So nonetheless, he noticed how pissed I was and he went off to his room. I told Jim that he would replace the pots and not to worry. Sure enough the next night there were new pots and he cleaned mine. Shit he does not know I will call the DOJ on his ass, and say I found some American hate letters in his room.

Kennedy Center... Sneaky Bitches...

It has been a hot minute since I have written and believe me there is more than enough to write about I have just been slacking. But, I have two words from last Friday night that warrant a complete recap...


..... “Sneaky Bitches”......




So I attended a function at the Kennedy Center called Africa Rising. It is a concert to show the beauty and talent that Africa has to offer through fashion and music. The designer Momo featured her work as did Chris Aire, but most people were there for one of 3 reasons, Tyson Beckford (I’m sorry but he is still hot), John Legend, or Jay Z. Let me state that simply, fashion show --- John Legend – Jay Z. That is all most people knew. Never mind the fact that Jascylene, Alek Wek, Tyson Beckford, and other great models were there. Trust me … it was the John Legend and Jay Z show.


Well the show started out calmly enough, there was just mischief and disbelief at some of the outfits that people will come out of the house wearing. Apparently, men’s suiting with a Lawrence of Arabia scarf is the in thing (who knew?, not me because the shit looks a mess). Couple with that this chick who had on Sally Jesse glasses, thigh high red boots, and red gloves. Where in the hell was she going? Sesame Street? AND apparently you can dress like a ho and be pregnant too. I have never seen so many pregnant women, fetus damn near out, trapsing around in 4” heels … Isn’t that how you got that way to begin with? I mean, close your legs it is drafty in this bitch, and in you apparently.


Now the show took place in the concert hall of the Kennedy Center, the same Kennedy Center where The Lion King was going on in the Opera House. Now imagine this if you will, let’s call it a-third, a-third, and a-third; one third there for The Lion King, Africa Rising (Africa focus) and Africa Rising (Jay-Z focus) respectively --- so there are 3 major entrances to the Kennedy Center and when entering you can usually tell where you need to go. So imagine DC Metro suburbanites, tourists, and others trying to figure out if the Africans there for Africa Rising were there for a show or in The Lion King, and imagine if you will how those very same folks responded to the Jay Z crowd. I will leave you be with that notion.


Now once in the show started and got rolling it was great. Nice clothing great African talent, but it was not ‘set off’ until John Legend took to the stage. He is a small gay talented man who REALLY likes himself but MAN, he can SANG!!!



- When John Legend began singing the seats in front of the group I was with were empty. They were quickly filled up bytwo groups of people one that had two of the skinniest men I have seen not in a famine relief commercial and two women. The women, oh the women one had hair that looked like dried mistletoe and the other looked like the Loch Ness Monster, codename: Nessie. Now, Nessie was a Hot Trashy Mess, she smoked Clove cigarettes, had not seen a bra since Clinton was president, and sat with her legs wide open. Top that off with her revealing purple dress (that reveal her side titties) and you have a Barney stand-in. Nessie, should have photographed that bitch hi-res, I would have gotten PAID!!!



- The other group were what we will call the “Sneaky Bitches”. They were these two younger women who were sitting in the section next to us, but further back. Now they decided they would commandeer these two empty seats in front of me. NOW TAKE THIS SHIT TO HEART, understand it and absorb it; you do not steal someone’s good seats at a concert #1, and you definitely do not steal someone’s good seat at anything JAY –Z is going to be at (or where it is a majority black folks). There is a reason they had metal detectors. Herein lies the problem with these ‘Sneaky Bitches’, they think they are slick because they are thin and kinda flashy, the problem here is they were like Khadijah and Regine from Living Single, one was cute but kinda big and the other one was just a beautiful ho, we will call her a ‘Salmon’.



Question: Scooter, what is a Salmon? Well a salmon is the kind of “Sneaky Bitch” that will do anything including swim upstream to get a man to pay her rent, day care, car note, hair appointment, nails, you name it. What is dangerous about a Salmon is that bitch will bring her own bait if she needs to, and it usually comes in the form of a small tight dress and no underwear. She is the kind of fish that catches the fisherman, HELLO!! There were a lot of Salmon out on Friday night. Ladies: If your man tells you he is going to any hip hop event with his “boys” you better have an ambush make over and take a fishing net, because trust me he is not coming home to you with all his money if he goes alone. The DC Queen Salmon will hit that shit like Barry Bonds!!



- The last but certainly not least group are the two women who paid for the seats. Let’s call them Flo and Willona (a al Good Times), these two women were older and had more meat on their bones, but you can tell that they used to be the “Sneaky Bitches” back in their day. They noticed Khadijah and Regine in their seats and did the proper thing, got the usher and had them move. They then sat down, and Flo acted as though John Legend was just singing to her in her peach pleated muumuu, and Willona well Willona needed a new bra, or a very short person to stand under her and hold those girls up. So you would think all was ok? Right, well you would think….



So John Legend finished his set with a beautiful song called ‘Good Morning’, to which I am sure Flo wet herself, because she was just too into him, but apparently she was into Jay-Z too, because when I was asked who his band was she shifted her weight (literally) turned around and said in her best Hennessy induced drawl ‘he travels with the Delfonics, you know who the Delfonics are?’ I answered yes, to which she was elated and further explain her love for H.O.V.A!! At this point Flo and Willona get up to feed the drunken monster I am sure, and they are gone up until the Jay-Z set begins…



….all good right. OH HELL NO!!!!



The “Sneaky Bitches” broke rule #1 and rule #2 AGAIN, and what is so bad they did it with the same women. When they came back to those seats I looked over and said, those are some bold bitches, because Flo and Willona are not having this. And have it they did not. Flo and WIllona came back and were not happy to see Khadijah and Regine in their seats, again. So l looked over and said ,they are about to fight….which for me means getting my fighting mind right, because I am all about breaking up a fight.



Now, women fight dirty and black women fight dirtiest. So Willona goes to get the usher again, who again, stands in front of me us and tells the ladies they need to move. Well the “Sneaky Bitches” must have had some Popeye Spinach because the Regine (the Salmon) was talking plenty of shit, all in the name of not moving (from a seat she stole, remember).. at this point my favorite song is starting.. “And the winner is…” Now Flo is dancing in the aisle and Willona walks down my row and starts talking more shit to Regine. Next thing I know Flo is back at her seat and Willona is about to scrap with Regine ….literally. Then, BAM!!! Like a gun at T.I.’s house these bitches set it off, right there in the aisle. Remember Willona is one row behind it all. They were throwing bow, they let their hands go, they did whatever you want to call it, these heifers were FIGHTING. I jump into “stop fight” mode once I see that Flo has snatched Regines hair and she almost flies over the balcony (literally), thanks to Chad she is still in the land of the living, and Willona has fallen on my boy Matt’s leg and busted up his shit. I get down to the end of the aisle and have to tackle Willona while snatching Regine’s hand off of her hair. I then pick up Willona and stand her big ass up and sufficiently quell the madness.


Now had I taken heed earlier I would have probably stopped it before it started by letting Regine know that Willona was ready to tap that ass. I noticed that when Willona came back with the usher, she was taking off her rings and her earrings. Well, bitch that is signal #1 when a bitch starts to disrobe she is ready to kick some dust, but I just thought deep inside, no no not in the Kennedy Center … alas I was wrong. To top it off the “Sneaky Bitches” ran, they split. So when security came down, Flo and Willona had to take the rap alone. Damn Shame!!! Women, that is the lesson you need to learn about a sneaky bitch…. They know how to escape everything.



And just when I thought it was over, I look back behind me midway through the Jay Z set and the “Sneaky Bitches” are back in their original seats, just having a good time.



NOW – Take this to the grave… The loudest mutha around is the one that LOST the FIGHT!!! After the show Regine talked all the way to the door about how she had to fight them bitches off, I wanted to tell her, she got her ass beat and in lucky her hair glue held up because she would have been at GW Hospital. That’s the bullshit. This “Sneaky Bitch” did not realize what had just happened, she was SAVED, because that shit was like Tommy Hearns trying to Fight Kembo, Tommy would have been dusted up.

The biggest bullshit of it all is I got Willona's cheap Rite Aid make-up on my shirt. Here is a note to you ladies. If you plan on whooping some ass or you might get your ass whopped it would be nice if you wore some extended wear CoverGirl shit, because a gay man (like myself) might let you get your ass whooped if it means keeping his shirt clean. That shit is two-ply egyptian cotton. Take heed bitches, take heed.

All of this at the Kennedy Center… Mess!!