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!!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
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.
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..
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:
(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)
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.
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…”
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…
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.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
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....
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....
Monday, August 18, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, August 4, 2008
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!!
..... “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!!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Riding music
I have a very eclectic musical taste which most people who know me know includes hair bands, gangta rap, ballads, blues, and gospel. I think music is a good thing. When I am driving home I typically drive with my windows down and music blasting, usually singing along. So on Friday as I was driving home I was blasting my music as usual not really paying attention to what was playing but singing along.
Now I love 80s hair band music, if it is Journey, Poison, anyone like that it is me. But my iPod shuffled up some Ambrosia. It was a hot filthy mess. Me driving Big Blue down the road blasting “How Much I Feel”, which all in all is not that bad, but at Arlington Blvd and Glebe Road I was at the stop light and a little too into it at the 2:20 mark on the song I really got into it as I looked over and notice the Ethiopian cab driver was just staring at me like he was amazed. Maybe you do not think this is a big deal, but here is the song, so imaginefor yourself my black ass singing this...
Life Lesson... The Sigh and the Pause
I think we all need to learn about a few things today the sigh and the pause. These are things that I have naturally employed for years, they operate as a simple warning mechanism. A warning that you are messing with a ticking time bomb, by the time I sigh, pause, AND look you up and down, it is over.
A sigh usually precedes a noun (or a pronoun) that is immediately followed by a pause then an action statement.
Ex #1:
In an argument… (we will use the last life lesson ((calling a black woman a bitch))
Foolish man: “Shut up, bitch!!”
Sistah: “What you say?!?”
Foolish man: “You heard me, BITCH!!” --- this is where it gets tangled up and is really almost a lesson in itself, when you call a woman a bitch, and she asks you what you said, you have only one chance to right this wrong, DO NOT REPEAT the word bitch, you will die. Trust me ---
Sistah: “I know you did not call me a BITCH, TWICE?!?”
--NOW IT ALL GOES AWRY –
Sistah: “(SIGH) You (PAUSE) need to (there was your action statement) get the fuck out of my face (and because you called her a bitch twice she will give you her action statement) before I slice your bitch ass”
What is integral here is that you understand the nature of the ‘Sigh, Pause, Action Statement, followed by her Action Statement/Threat’; the only important part is the threat because it is not to be taken lightly. Women are different than men in their emotions, when they say they will cut you, trust me there is a razor hidden under that track of weave.
For a perfect example of this you need to listed to the attached YouTube clip .... around the 1:18 mark you hear a great pause,the action statement comes around the 1:45 mark. The kicker is around the 2:49 mark where she sighs, tells him what to do and what the consequence will be. PERFECT example, a perfect "10". Take note of this she starts off REAL nice until you get into her wallet, once you get into a sistahs wallet and start asking for more money, oh it is over.
Now, let’s say you do not have an established relationship with the person and you say something crazy to them. We’ll say you say something to a gay man.
Ex #2:
In a discussion…
Foolish man: “ Yes ma’am I understand I can help you.”
Gay man: “I am not a ma’am I am a sir.”
Foolish man: “I am sorry sir, that will not happen again. Ok ma’am I have your order as…”
Gay man: “I just told you I was a sir, do not call me ma’am”
Foolish man: “Again I am so sorry sir. We have everything we need ma’am and we will..”
Gay man: “(Sigh) LOOK (PAUSE) I just told you that I am a sir (SECOND PAUSE) you have zero more times to call me ma’am so (ACTION STATEMENT) you need to get it together.”
Notice the distinct difference betwixt the two. The woman, a categorically undeniable threat, the gay man a veiled bullshit threat after which all that will happen is he will has to talk to your manager. Lesson here … a gay man is not going to fight you. He is not going to do a damn thing. He will just tussle around flapping his gums and nothing will happen. So note to self… that Drag Queen yelling at you in the bar all that bitch can do is call some busted ass security to haul you out. She is not going to fight because you might snatch her duct tape.
Trust me … unlike me most gays don’t like to fight.
Now this other YouTube is with gay men and a REAL sistah, she is not having it, there are a number of occassions where she sighs and pauses, but she does not let down. Why? Because there is not a gay man on earth that can kick a scorned woman's ass. PERIOD.
Enjoy...
This is the secret to the above call. You can tell by the way she answered teh phone that she is not in a playing mood. She did not recognize the number and she is not having it. At 1:17 when he makes his threat, the whole tone changes, at that point she is ready to fight. Aside from her wierd scream laugh she is serious.
You should not toy with the Sigh and the Pause because while it may be employed in similar fashion across the country the length of time before a real negative response may vary depending on where you are. A Bronx sigh and pause is nothing like a northern Virginia sigh and pause. TRUST ME!
Understanding the sigh and the pause are integral to your livelihood if they are followed with the look up and down, well that just means you are “done”. Which is typically what I do to people, sigh, pause, look them up, look them down, then walk away. Most of you have seen me do it.
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