Filed under: Everyday Chatter
Earthquakes
or
Hurricanes?
I was watching the news this morning, and I thought “Well, I won’t be making it out to Cali anytime soon…” I’ve heard a lot of people say that they wouldn’t want to live here on the Coast because of the hurricanes. Well, here’s my thoughts. I’d rather be here, cause I know when it’s about to pop off. There is no way a hurricane is going to sneak up on ya. You have ample opportunity to get the heck outta dodge, and getting out is easy…you tape up your windows, buy you some water, and get ta steppin. 9 times outta 10, you’re gonna be returning to a couple days of no lights.
On the other hand, in an earthquake, there is a very high likeliood that I would be injured in some way. Also, they say that you have, like, 30-60 seconds to get yourself together. Hell, I need that long just to spaz out before I start moving. You know, I have to stand there like “What in the?….is this a?…..is the stuff movin?…..oh, GLORAY, it’s a earthquake GEEZUSSSSS!!!!!” I can not grab Aidan, grab the dog, hum a negro spiritual, and call my mama in 30-60 seconds. Then, I have to endure the earthquake, itself. Lawdamercy, I would need to be tranquilized. I simply would not be able to take it.
So, what about you? What’s your pleasure? Well, not pleasure, but you know what I mean.
Filed under: Everyday Chatter
The pretty girl weedeater:
When Tim saw it, he said “Yeah, that looks just like something you would buy…an orange azz weedeater in a shiny box. You are such a girl.” He’s totally correct!
I ordered it off this informercial especially because it’s battery powered and I don’t have to fool with cords or gas. Cause, you know, when I’m weedeatin’ I ain’t got time for all that! Plus, the thing twists and turns from a weedeater to an edger. The edger has wheels to help you go in a straight line. WHAT??? I so needed that cause my edging was suspect to say the least. It’s got a little guard so you can’t cut your flowers all up (I needed that, too). It also has so many angles that you don’t have to bend down to get to places you couldn’t ordinarily reach. I wouldn’t know about that — cause if I can’t reach it, it just didn’t get weedeated. And the final straw that made me dial the number…..unlimited spools of that weedeater thread. Yes, honey, so I do not have to be going in the Walmart asking for weedeater thread and folks lookin at me all crazy. An added bonus, it’s easy enough to use that you break minimal sweat AND ain’t no whole lotta grass poppin you all on the arm and in the chest area.
Now, of course when I’m gettin my weedeat on I have to put on my fliest yard gear, and I’m even going to get some orange gloves to match. If I have to do my own yard, I might as well be fly while I’m doing it. So there you have it folks, the prettygirl weedeater.
Filed under: Everyday Chatter
You…..broke lookin’ boy
Stupid lookin’ boy
Won’t take care a yo kid lookin’ boy
Hateful lookin’ boy
Pathetic lookin’ boy
Daughter growin’ up to hate ya lookin’ boy
Preacha lookin’ boy
Teacha lookin’ boy
But won’t practice what you preach lookin’ boy
Contempt lookin’ boy
Verklempt lookin’ boy
$14,000 behind????? looking boy.
You oughta be shame lookin’ boy
You’re to blame, lookin’ boy
But payback will come ten fold. Believe that BOY.
Point ‘em out, point ‘em out — MIGUEL THOMAS lookin’ boy.
That was personal. Carry on.
Filed under: The Weekend in Review
This weekend was totally un-dramatic. Friday night I cooked dinner. Saturday we lounged around, worked in the yard, and then watched a movie. Sunday I went to church, went to buy school uniforms, then I went to the gym. Now, let’s go back….
The Yard. Tim was in charge of some weed killing/fertilizing mission he was on, and my assigned task was to weed eat. I didn’t blog about my pretty weedeater and edger I bought did I? Well, I bought one, so now I’m all about weed eating. So, Tim is walking around in his yard gear and I’m walking around in my Nikes and about every, oh, say…5 minutes he has to come tell me how I’m weed eating wrong. And I need to get up close to stuff. And how my prettygirl weedeater sucks. I’m sure that I’ve weedeated (? is that a word) before and it turned out fine. That dood is such a yard Nazi.
The Movie. Cloverfield. Three words can accurately sum it up: What.the.hell? The movie was about a monster eating New York, told through the eyes of these four people who happened to be recording it. And that’s it. When it was over, me and Tim looked at each other like “What!?”
Church. I haven’t been to church in about 2 months of Sundays, so yesterday was gonna be my comeback. I’m officially going to put serious effort into it and try to stop being out of town so much. I roll up late and notice the police in the parking lot with flashing lights. No one was outside, so I figured it must be somebody getting a ticket or something and this is where they pulled over. Wrong. Why was one of the church members getting arrested? And I, the lawyer, just happen up on the scene. Now, I’m not trying to work so I just ease on by…..but alas, didn’t happen. Turns out Mr. Fugitive had several parking tickets and was driving his car with a suspended license. Sidenote about the car: It’s an Infiniti M35. They bought it last year in January. It STILL doesn’t have a tag. Really, you have a defense, sir? I think not. So, anyway, I missed half of my church comeback standing in the parking lot over some nonsense.
What did ya’ll do this weekend?
Filed under: Incidentals
You know how when the internet goes down and the computer asks if you want to send an “error report”? Who the hell gets those????
My 3 year old told me, in a very serious tone, “Listen, mama, I’m being serious right now.” The killing part about that is that I really wasn’t listening. That child is so me.
In response to Michael somebodydood’s comments on autism, one parent of a child with autism asked how she felt about it. She said she was terrified. Terrified? WTH is there to be scared of?
I’m on twitter. PserendipityChic is my name. Follow me if you dare.
I made a mistake and let Aidan taste a cherry. He likes them. DANG! I hate sharing my cherries. Do you know how much they cost?? I shoulda just told him they had peanuts in them and he wouldnt’ve even tried to eat one.
I did something this week that I’m sure I’ll regret sooner or later. I still think it was the right thing to do, but I’m sure somebody else won’t — especially since it involved deceit.
The Governor is considering a 4 day work week. Woot Woot! But, I’ll probably still have to work 5 days. That cancels out the woot, woot. In true hater form, if I gotta work 5 days, I hope everybody else does, too.
Tim did basketball all week. He really is an awesome official. Nobody calls fouls like my baby!
You know the drill. Leave your incidental comment below!
Have a great weekend. See ya’ll Monday!
Filed under: My Soapbox
Hmmmm, where do I start?
1. Dood, pay your money. You ain’t a “Good Father” just because you spend time with your kids. And mamas, stop buying into that sh*t. A “good father” takes care of his children in every way. Every includes paying child support. Hell, I’ll come pick up your kids and take ‘em to the park or something every week. They can spend the night at my crib some weekends. Does that make me a good father, too? I thought not. That makes you a punk azz dood who is getting over — at the expense of your children.
2. Dood, pay your money. So you bought some school clothes and some Christmas gifts. And you want that to count against your child support? WTF ever. Stupid.
3. Dood, pay your money. If I hear “I pay her every month, but my kids are still wearing the same clothes every time I see them” one more time, I might just shank you right then and there. Is your point that because you pay child support your kids should be dressed to the nines? Let’s see, are they starving? Are the lights on at the place where they live? Do they have food, clothing, and shelter? Yeah, then STFU.
4. Dood, pay your money. Stop quitting your jobs so you won’t have to pay for your children. You’re the worst kind of trifling good for nothing scrub ever.
5. Dood, pay your money. Stop with this “I’m paying child support so she can pay her rent.” “I’m paying child support so she can ride around in a new car.” The amount of money you pay probably doesn’t even pay for daycare.
6. Dood, pay your money. You ain’t gotta love the child’s mother, you gotta love your child.
Filed under: Everyday Chatter
PIck up line of the day, said to me as I was walking past some inmates on my way into the building.
Inmate: Hey, yella. You lookin’ good today!
Yella: *polite smile* Thanks.
Inmate: You know, I only got 5 more years. I can use those to change. I’ll change for you, yella.
Yella: Nah, I like you just the way you are.
See? I still got it.
Filed under: My Soapbox
I was recently reminded of something that never manages to piss me the.hell.off. So, I decided to blog about it. I am certain that some of you will disagree with me on my viewpoints about this subject matter. I don’t mind if you disagree, that makes for meaningful discussion. I’ll just jump on in, forget all the filler.
There is one thing that I think despicable women do. They refuse child support. I once had a client. A man. He was chomping at the bit to pay his child support. I called the other parent to let her know that this guy was going to begin paying his support and that she would be served with process to come to court so we could work out the details of his payments. The child was only about 2 months old at the time. When I called that woman, I got cussed out. She didn’t want a dime of his money. She didn’t need him for anything. How dare he try to pay her child support. Ummm, okay. What I told her? You’re stupid. I’ll see you in court where I will argue that child support is for the benefit of the child and can not be refused by either parent. And I’ll win. In the end, we just ended up setting up the payments in a separate bank account that she had access to, and last I heard she had never used it. Stupid.
There is another thing that I think despicable women do. I’ll give you an example. A friend asked if she could borrow $100 or something like that to buy her kid school clothes. “Why won’t babydaddy pay it?” “Girrrl, I didn’t even ask him. You know he ain’t tryin to do nothin.” Oh. Okay….so…….you’ll as ME for MY money, but you won’t take any steps to collect funds that your children are certainly entitled to from a dood that has every responsibility to pay it. Sorry chic, but until you handle your business, I ain’t got you on your kids school clothes. Sh*t, I ain’t they daddy and that dood ain’t paying nothin. Hell to the naw, stupid.
This is my stance. Like it or hate it. Child support is for the good of the child. A parent has no right to refuse to accept money that belongs to her child, especially for prideful or vengeful reasons. Similarly, a parent has no right to not go after what her child is owed by his other parent. Refusing the support or not attempting to collect it is like stealing from your child. In my opinion. Yes, I understand that there are different situations, but aside from the other person being dead, none of them explain why you can’t or won’t get your kids money. In my opinion. I would never participate in my child getting less than anything than he should have, regardless of my emotional or financial situation. When it comes to Aidan, I’m going for his, everything else be damned. And that’s not my opinion, that right there is the truf.
Go ahead, I know you got somethin to say……….
Coming tomorrow: BabyDaddy. Pay your babymoney.
Filed under: Everyday Chatter
This morning as I was dressing, I was gettin my jam on to my new favorite song “Hi, Haters” when I was wondering…dang, who am I talking to? I’m lookin around in the bathroom and the closet like “Dang, I done lost my damn haters!!” I’m accustomed to having haters, at least 2 or 3 at any given moment. Today? I got nothin. Well, that’s not totally true. I have one built in hater that came as a package deal with my man. But I mean, really, I don’t care about that. She hates because she has to.
Where my haters at that hate because they want to? The ones that hate cause they can’t help it? The ones that hate ’cause I’m so damn fly? I’m tellin ya’ll, I GOT NOTHIN.
Peeps, this is a crisis. I am full fledged in the middle of a hater drought, and this simply will.not.do. I need to get to the gym post-haste. I need a new handbag immediately. My hair and nails must be done forthwith because I gotsta get my haters back. If they ain’t hatin’, then my game is less than tight — and that is NOT an option. I am officially slackin on my hater pimpin. I am hanging my head in shame. How on earth did I let this happen? I mean, I just slacked off for a few days….and now look. My haters are probably somewhere thinking I wasn’t all that to begin with. Oh, hell naw. This will never do.
Don’t fear, though. I’m down, but I’m not out. I’m still bobbin and weavin. I’m not going to get hit with that KO punch. I’m back on the scene, haters, so come on back!!! And ya’ll b*tches betta have my money! (<- that didn’t have any place here, I just really wanted to say it.)
Filed under: Everyday Chatter
Ever had one of those moments where you just have to accept that something you always thought was going to happen just may not be in the cards for you? Like, it’s right there in front of you, you can almost reach out and touch it. You dream about it, you prepare for it, and there is really no reason that you shouldn’t have it. Really, you deserve this.
Then, you find out that the cost might be too high. You might just have to give up a lot more of your time, make more sacrifices, and put more on the line than you can afford to lose, and you still can’t be guaranteed that you’ll have what it is that you want. If you knew you could have this thing, you’d give up whatever you had to in order to have it — but you just don’t know.
Would you give it up now and suffer the consequence — but gain everything that comes with knowing that you won’t have it, so you can move on. Or would you wait on this thing that means more to you than words could say — knowing that you might suffer in the end?
Life has given me lemons, but damn it’s hard making this lemonade.
