Packin dem Bags part deux

While I am on the subject of mismatched, random packing, does if bother anyone else when these NINCOMPOOPS sales associates ask you, "Would you like a bag for that?"

NO YOU DUMB FUTHER MUCKER! I would really love to carry 19 rolls of 2-ply Bounty under my gottt damn arm, and once I have those neatly tucked away, pass me the 7 DVD's I bought. I will hold those in my hand. Since when do I have to ask for a bag.....isnt that part of PACKING MY BAGS you gottt damn ninny?? AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED about the arsehole associates who guesstimate, "Oh I dont think that it will fit in that bag!" Oh really...you dont think it will fit? Well, SINCE WHEN ARE YOU PAID TO THINK, you red shirt wearing bastard (sorry to my Target family, I really do love y'all)? Punch the mutha fuggin keys on that register, swipe my card or take my cash, PACK MY BAG, and give me my GOTT DAMN change.......UNLESS it's under a nickel; in that instance, dont waste my time! SHEEEEEEIT!

ok, I'm calm now. and I'm gone...................

Packin dem Bags - The Art of Bag Packing

Packing bags is a lost art form. When I go to my local grocery store, or my favorite store Target, I am reluctant to allow the associate to pack my bags. WHY? Since when do turkey ham, chlorine beach, condoms, Scott bathroom tissue and a dozen eggs go in the same bag? How come when I was younger, this sort of thing never happened? Dairy would go in same bag as the other dairy, all of the perishables were sorted, the meats were together and so on....nowadays, these young futha muckin bag packers are reckless. There's rules to this shit! Do employers offer courses in bagpacking, because if not, they should.

And speaking of packing dem bags, doesnt that phrase sound like a euphemism for some unGodly sexual act? SHEEEIT, it sounds like a rap song. Soulja Boy was crankin dat, Supaman'n dat hoe......sheeit, I be packin dem bags. Here's how the song would go:

I be......packin dem bags.
I be......packin dem bags.
put yo shit up on the counter,
and let me pack your bags.
Then I'ma crank dat, crack back and.....

ok. let me stop. i'll let someone else make up the dance.


and I'm gone...........

The World Keeps Spinning....Beat YOUR Kids!

It has recently dawned on moi that I am getting old(er). A couple of months ago, I had two gray hairs in my goatee; now, there are 4 and counting. I wont even mention the gray hairs in the nether region (oops, I guess I just did!). But, whats put my rapid ascent/descent into senility & diapers into perspective is my past, present and future. Huh you say? In saying that, I mean with regard to my past, when I left for college back in August of '91, my little sister was 9 months old. Tomorrow, she graduates from high school. Congratulations lil sis (BK's lil gangsta)...I love you and I'm proud of you. Which brings me to the present....my lil sister had no choice but to graduate....well she did. Her options were graduate from high school (and ALSO college), or get you ARSE beat with a bag of rusty nickels. Minors should NOT have a choice in whether they want to graduate, let alone go to school. There are consequences and repercussions for everything, but I'm not even going there. There should be such a thing as PRE-EMPTIVE BEATINGS. Parents, grandparents, siblings, beat (not abuse) your kids so they have the FEAR OF GOD in them and stay on the right path. It worked for me, and look, today, I'm writing blogs!!!

But on a serious note, prior to leaving for college, I told my mother, at that time a TEACHER/Literacy Coach, that I did not want to go to college. My mom (no she didnt beat me, but I'm sure she wanted to) just spoke to me. She told me I had 3 options:

1. GO TO COLLEGE - being that I'd already made it clear that that was not my intent, it really wasnt an option, thus, mom dukes, using the GHETTO JEDI MIND TRICK, gave me 2 options.
2. GET A JOB - when i graduated from high school, I was 17 years old. What kind of job was I going to get? What kind of money was I going to make? I calculated (I was good in math) that based on pensions, social security and such, I would have to work at LEAST 45 years before I could retire. FUGGG that...onto option 3.
3. GET THE FUGG OWT! - Mom dukes wasnt having a non-working, non school going to, Wonder bread eating, Kool-Aid drinking, almost grown negro traipsing around the crib.

Needless to say, 17 years later, I have my Bachelor's (class of '96) and Master's degrees (class of '07). My moms BEAT ME IN THE HEAD and I thank her for it. Y'all dont hear me though. But yeah, a nicca is getting old, gray hairs, little sister graduating, still scared of PRE-EMPTIVE beating....yada yada yada.

and I'm gone.....

Kids Birthday Parties

Good afternoon good people. I was recently blessed to celebrate my child's birthday. It was a beautiful, SpiderMan themed affair. My wife went all out; the party was complete with a clown, a Spidey character, Spidey cake & decorations, a custom Spider Man movie, in which when Spidey was unmasked, it was my son's face. I'm glad my wife makes more money than me because my contribution was some pizza and 2-liter of off-brand soda. But, nonetheless, it was a KID'S party. WHAT in the HELL is up with these parents who have birthday parties for children, but nothing is juvenile about the party? How are you gonna have a birthday party for a 1 year old and hire a DJ who plays nothing but booty music, every bit of the food has hot sauce on it, and the drink de jour is a malt liquor, MD 20/20, or Georgi Vodka? I mean, even winos dont drink Georgi. I guess a party aint a party unless a 1 year old can get fugged up in the haze of weed smoke and OE (that's Old English for you youngsters)!

Parents, if you have a party for your child's birthday, please remember that you are celebrating your child's life. LIQUOR is not appropriate for a child's party; if it were the legal drinking age in the United States of A FUTHA MUCKIN AMERICA would be 3 and a 1/2. Thats why our kids are so fugged up.....cuz the gottt damn parents are fuggin fugged up fuggers. Damn it, y'all got me heated; I know cuz I'm typing phonetically in slang. Gott damn it!

and I'm gone......

7 reasons I want to flog my wife with a Chinese noodle!

Some of you may be thrown back by the title of this post, but, before I write anything else, let me preface this post by saying I love my wife. Lord knows I love my wife. I know I am easy to put down, but hard to put up with and I appreciate, respect and admire her. But gott damn it if I dont want to smother her in her sleep sometimes! Geez, she knows how to work my nerves. Below, please find the top 7 reasons I want to smother my wife with a down pillow, or rather flog her with a Chinese noodle:

7. She sometimes uses MY deodorant -- I know the economy has gone south, and the price of everything, including SPIT is up, but damn, is there a deodorant shortage. We can share SECRETS but not that SECRET. Gottt damn! And for the record, NO, I DO NOT, I repeat, I DO NOT wear Secret.

6. She wants to talk during TV shows & basketball games -- Honey, if you're reading this, which I know you're not (and thats the reason I'm even writing this...lol), please, if it is that important, and I am actively engaged, watching the season finale of one of my favorite shows or a basketball game, WRITE IT DOWN. TV shows are usually 1/2 hour or 1 hour and games 2 hours. I will respond in kind when they are done. If the house is burning down around me, just leave me a glass of ice water and save yourself!

5. She done the T.P. or paper towel and dont replace it -- You mean to tell me after you're done wiping your crusty fingers or crusty arse, and you use the last futha muckin square and you are eye to eye with that brown roll, (as if that is not enough of a reminder), that you forget to change the TP or paper towel. So am I supposed to wipe my @ss with that brown roll, or your shower cap, or the sponge? WTF yo?!?! (and yes, i meant to put she done the TP, all my BROOKLYN people know what I'm talking about).

You know what.....I think I will stop here for now (before someone calls or e-mails my wife and tells her about the existence of this blog)! I love you Bubba!

and i'm gone..............

The Sweet Tea is my CRACK COCAINE

Some months ago, Mickey D's added Sweet Tea to the dollar menu and I think this is one of the BEST things that they could have done. On a hot summer's day, nothing is more refreshing than a cool 32 oz's of that artificially flavored orange pekoe, black tea combination, the high fructose corn syrup topped off with a lemon wedge that has been out and unrefrigerated for 4 days. Mmmm mmm good! And for some reason, I can not order 1 at a time; I always purchase two (resulting in frequent, unrelenting potty time). There must be something to it, or better yet, something in it. I know everyone has their own particular vice, and mine is that gott damn sweet tea. In no uncertain terms do I compare myself to Chris Rock because he is a funny looking summumabich (but I'm glad he got his teefus fixed), but gott damn if I dont feel like Pookie. "It keeps callin me man, it keeps callin me!" And if you dont know what I am referencing, please flog yourself with a wet sock and go rent New Jack City.

and i'm gone.......

The A/C

Only in New York.....only in Harlem, New York. This is not PHOTOSHOPPED!! I encountered this on my way to work this morning. I was listening to some tunes, minding my own business, zoning out, oblivious to the world. I came to a red light and stopped as law abiding citizens as myself do. I looked down to reach for my MP3 player then looked back up to see if the light had changed and there I saw it......the futha mucka in front of me had an air conditioner in the back window of his Econoline! WAIT, let me rewind that, the futha mucka had a HOUSE AIR CONDITIONER in the back window of his van!!

What kinda sh%t is that? I'ma need my ghetto brethren to stop being so creative. I'm all for ingenuity and creativity but the line gotta be drawn somewhere and I think house A/C's in cars/vans/SUV's is a tad much. And what the fugg was it plugged into? Only in New York....only in Harlem, New York.

and I'm gone....