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.