Thursday, July 21, 2011

It's Too Damn Hot for All That....

So we got what we were asking for here in Ohio.  Generally, it stays frigid here until the end of March so people were on their knees praying to Baby Jesus asking him for relief from the snow and ice...Well are you happy now?? Fuckers??? I'm sweating like Mel Gibson at a Bat Mitzvah! The heat index at noon was 115 degrees. Which is a combination of the actual temp combined with Satan's toe jam, sweat of 49 fat bitches, Sherman Clump, and the humidity.  Needless to say it's fucking HOT. 

With that being said, I have seen some things recently that need to stop. 

1. Uggs and Shorts:  Bitch, are you serious?  Anything with fur on them are a no-go. Just stop it, wait until Fall and pull them fucking ugly ass boots back out of your closet. 

Let me clarify.....Men this includes you:  No fucking boots PERIOD. White people, hate us if you must, but keep those damn Nazi combat boots put away this week. Niggas and my nillas, no Tims..... nothing. Keep that shit in your damn closet.  The weight of the boots combined with the sweat will make your feet swell up faster than Kim Kardashian's lips after botox. 

Timbo Toe...Stay out the Tims fellas!
2.  Shave or wax your snatch before you go to the pool.  "Oh My God, I think I found Steve Harvey's toupee!"  Nope, that's just someone's hairy box... and thigh...Ew.

Fellas, again this includes you. Just because you don't worry about your thigh hair, you may want to take care of your hairy ass back before you go hoop down at the park...You go to make a layup and your Sasquatch ass back hair whipping dudes in the face... Not cool, man. Not cool.

3. The sun intensifies the effect of alcohol.  I repeat, sun intensifies the effect of alcohol. So take it easy Betty Ford....a few beers are just fine.  Now, 5 beers, 3 shots, and some Kahlua between the hours of 2-5pm? Not a good mix...Well, actually that is great vomit mix.  And usually a good way to act like an asshole at your grandma's 90'th birthday party this Saturday.  You don't want to wake up in the yard at 11 pm wondering where your day went.   No one is telling you not to drink just find some shade or do that shit from your couch. Save yourself the embarrassment and the people around you from having to watch you trying to dance with your Grandma to Khia's My Neck, My Back. Not a good look.

This is you on alcohol when it's 4 million degrees out.
Just use some common sense.  It's hot dammit. Every time I walk outside I feel like I'm fighting with two squirrels in a wool sock over one fucking nut.  If you aren't sure if what you are doing is asinine, ask a friend, if you're friends lead you astray...drop em like they're hot.  With this weather, should be pretty easy.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Rodney King Arrested. Again. Evidently, the Brain Damage Was a Little More Extensive Than We Originally Thought.

The above article explains how Rodney King was arrested sometime last night for driving while intoxicated. Police don't know if he was drunk or high on drugs but the mug shot pretty much speaks for itself.
He looks high as hell! Got the geeker face going hard right now.
Now, most of us remember the Rodney King beating from 1991.  This man got his ass beat, ripped off, then handed back to him in 1991.  Four cops beat the shit out of him because they were pissed off they had to do their jobs:  drive in their cars and follow him through San Fernando Valley during a high speed chase.  As we now know, they beat him long after he was subdued and caused skull fractures and brain damage. The cops were acquitted which is what sparked the riots that caused 55 deaths and $1 billion in damage to the city of LA. 

King in 1991 after the beating

As I was 11 in 1991, I didn't pay attention to the details of the trial. I just saw people acting a fool in LA pulling poor Reginald Denny out of the cab of his truck and beating the shit out of him, moms stealing diapers from grocery stores, and dudes running out of busted storefronts with two TVs in a shopping cart.  Those people were pissed and they were not playing around, they almost burned the hood to the ground.

I just found out today that this stupid ass muther fucker got $3.8 million dollars in damages from the city of LA. Did you hear me????  For those not so good at math, that is 3 million 800 thousand dollars! Now, the article also says this mutha fucka just got pulled over in a 1994 Mitsubishi. Did you hear me??? 1994! What the hell?  I know he had trouble with the law before, obviously during, and after this incident.  He even went on Celebrity Rehab. But FUCK dude, you got $3.8 mil in the early 90's and you're driving a Mitsubishi???  Now I know he sustained brain damage and I know his lawyers got a third of his money but still that still left this fool with about $2.5 million.  This nigga is driving a 1994 Mitsufuckinbishi. Did someone not teach him how to invest?  Hell, he should have bought a few stocks in Apple or something. Jesus take the wheel because this man has no idea what he is doing.  Save him!! I know him getting arrested is supposed to be the point of the article but I can't help keeping thinking about all the money he went through.  He didn't even have any anniversary specials on TV.  No book deal or anything. Somebody get this stupid ass an agent.

One good thing I can say that he learned was not to run from the police.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Sexless in the City

Single life means not having to say I’m sorry unless I give a shit.  It means I don’t have to call anyone when I get up, on my lunch break, on my way home, after dinner,  or before bedtime.  I get to eat the biggest piece of chicken.   I sleep in the middle of my bed.   I can watch PBS all day if I want to.  I don’t even have to be covert when I need to fart. I just let ‘er rip.  Simply put, it’s just me and my gaggle of heathens.  They know my farts stink.
I have been single for almost a year now and I’m OK with it.  Well, that is what I keep telling myself. I’m not out patrolling bars begging men to come home with me or flashing dudes for beads. I stopped asking my gynecologist if he was still married a few years ago.  I don’t make up shit about myself so you think I’m worthy of your time.  If you don’t like me, then fuck you.  It’s not meant to be anyway. But there is also something to be said about having someone there to count on, share with, return love. Most importantly, someone  to provide butt in the gut time after the kids go to bed.  I truely miss it.
Me being single isn’t because I don’t have options, and it’s not by choice.  I just feel like I don’t have good options. They say there are plenty of fish in the sea. I say the sea is actually a dirty fucking mud puddle and 85% of the fish are retarded from the lack of oxygen. The sea dried up years ago.  I have been on dates and even met some cool people, but for whatever reason things didn’t work out. Now that I am 30 I find myself looking for someone who can do more than buy me a drink and rock my world. I know I am not perfect by any means. However, I don’t nag, steal, cheat (exception: Monopoly), or excessively lie. I do sometimes borrow and take too long to return (ask Blockbuster), I bash food like a competitive eater, and I am obsessive about the cleanliness of my home.  But I’m also pretty, optimistic, witty, I try to take care of my body, my kids, and my home. I have my own money and I’m educated. If we make plans to go out in your 1985 Fiero, I promise there is room for me and my ego.  
See, there is room for all 3 of us; you, me, and my ego.
 That being said, I’ve ran into really, really small pensises, bad attitudes, people who think I am property, people who think I am stupid, people who think the world owes them something, people who just want to fuck,  people who want to use my money,liars, theives, and my personal favorite a dickhead who after meeting him once constantly asked for a back rub, constantly.  I told him back rubs lead to nudity and he would have to earn his. Plus, can this bitch get a back rub first? 
What I want to know is; where are all the real men at? The one’s who work hard, play hard, and know what a woman wants?
For the record we, I really mean I:
1.      Want you to be employed …anywhere….as long as you are on someone’s payroll you are cool with me. And it can’t be SSA  or OWF. THAT DOES NOT COUNT.

2.       Want you to be self sufficient and be able to get your own oil changed…and change mine while you are at it.

3.       Want you to be reliable. This encompasses a few aspects, but I need to rely on you to do what you say and say what you mean.  This also encompasses my need to rely on your ability to get ‘er wet and get ‘er done. Nuff said.  

4.       Want you to be hygienic. Daily showers are a plus.  (I once dated a guy for a few weeks who didn’t wash his hands, he claimed showers were sufficient) Also, shaving is underrated. 5 o’clock shadows are sexy.  Fortnight shadows are not.
This is Joaquin's fortnight shadow and his drug induced sense of euphoria.
5.       Want you to be romantic and this does not mean offering to “go to the buffet “before you ask for a BJ.  

6.       Want you to have a personality. This doesn’t include constantly rambling on and on about your racks on racks on racks, how you are Polo’ed down, how much weed you sold last night. Tell me what you saw on History Channel last night, your vast of knowledge state birds, maybe about the last time you left Ohio (If you haven’t left, you have way more issues than I can address here), or just about your day at work.

Tell me, what is wrong with this picture?
7.       Want you to be emotionally stable. This is last mentioned but one of the most important. I can’t stand to see a man cry unless someone died (dogs are OK, cats are not. If you are a man with a cat that you did not inherit in some way, kill yourself). There are of course exceptions to this rule, but if you have think you have testes, own a cat,  and you cry more than once a month, get checked. You may actually have ovaries, a vagina, and a cat. Fits of rage are not okay and if you have anything diagnosed in the DSM-IV, GO AWAY. I have been there before and honestly making sure you take your medication and go to therapy is more effort than I have to give.  
 My mom says I am looking in the wrong place. She says I need to go to church and find me a, “Good, clean, man.” I don’t think that is exactly what I am looking for either, I like my men like Reese Cups.  Rugged on the outside and soft in the middle.  There has to be a grey area, right???  Someone let me know where it is, because I am going there Saturday night.