Memorable Episode I

HELP! I’ve been kidnapped and placed in a Tyler Perry play – A Wedding, Funeral & Family Reunion Gone Awry! I am at a loss of keystroke on where to begin the drama that was my extended weekend. At what point do you start a description of all the misfits, miscreants, debutantes and delusional divas that cross your path in a three day time span.

Do I start with Jamaican Jerk turning Carabana’s truck into a Jitney Bus? Or maybe Cousin Polly Pilsner attacking Floyd Mayweather Jr (I know you didn’t think I was gone say senior. He woulda killed her ass with that hair alone) at the Foot Action store? I know, how bout Rev Dr. Pastor Bishop Fellowship of the Church in a House, who delivered the eulogy for BBQ Kings dearly departed Aunt Shoes while simultaneously trying to pray my baby sister into being his concubine (Lord forgive me for this one). Or I could simply begin and end with Uncle Mini Fester backing his FORD F150 into a tree and spinning off like Grady with Shug saying “I thought the Po-lice was gone get us for sure!”

As you can see there was so much going on and since I really can’t determine the start from the finish I have decided to break it down for you in a three part documentary. That’s right I’m talking Roots quality miniseries on my experience. So make sure you call your friends, neighbors, baby mammas & daddies cause you don’t want anyone to miss an installment.

Just to give you a sneak peak on coming episodes I’ma drop a few snippets. I have to cuss out Cousin Walrus & his girlfriend Pinky for drinking up all my damn Corona. Lady Carabana explodes about the cost of gas. There is even a Maury ‘Who’s your baby daddy’ DNA episode. So stay tuned folks while I pull all the pieces together for your reading pleasure. Now I must go and pontificate on the perforation of the document. I kill myself sometime.

Geritol Moment

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like the owner of your voodoo doll likeness is in an extra prickly mood? Well yesterday was that day for me. It started as I literally rolled out of bed & hit my knee caps on the night stand while trying unsuccessfully to press the snooze button. After biting back tears while balled in the fetal position cradling me knee – while BBQ King slept in peaceful oblivion to my pain – I finally made my way to the bathroom to start my morning routine.

The toothpaste tube was empty, the toilet seat was up and the damn hot water took to long to actually get hot. As I’ve told you all before, I am a firm believer in signs. I just don’t always adhere. The common sense in me should have jumped up & said “call out sick – stay home” but I guess it was still asleep. Hemingway! I hopped in the shower, reached for my Summers Eve femmie wash, only to find it empty (LAWD I hope the man ain’t using my wash), and disinfected (thoroughness is a must) my personal as best I could with the lil itty bitty piece of oatmeal & honey soap that was left. Why a man simply won’t open a new bar of soap is beyond me. I just hoped they would have the air up at work or else I was going to smell like Ms Betsys alley cat crack choker daughter by lunchtime.

Of course by the time I’m done with my personal hygiene, picking an outfit & dragging the child out of bed for school, I’m already 30 minutes in the hole with the man on work time. Oh well. YT knows we operate on CP time so he should be used to it. I figured I might as well stop for a cinnabun from Mickey D’s with a sweet tea since I’m already late. As I’m twissing (I may be xtra thick but that don’t mean I ain’t sexy) my way to the counter I notice these three older men checking me out. I give them my best ‘I’m so sexy you would give up 3 months of SSI checks just to get a whiff’, smile and bounce shake my booty to the counter to order. I won’t bore you with the details of me trying to order in Ebonics from someone who only speaks Latin Ville. You get the comical picture.

As I neared the table of the old breakfast club I realized from snippets of convo floating on the air that they were talking about me. My butt, my breast & my stomach!!! One of these geezers had the nerve to say my backside was nice but “all that stomach is too much” he didn’t want anything he had to “move out the way”. Now of course you know my first instinct was to cuss his black crispy Geritol guzzling ass out but the bible say respect your elders. Instead I walked over to the table, leaned over directly in his face so he could get a great view of my cleavage and sniff of my perfume, puckered my lips, blew him a kiss & whispered softly “If you promise to pull back the wrinkles on your man stick, I promise to keep my stomach out the way.”

Needless to say those old MFR’s was speechless as I walked away with a huge smile. Sometimes the best revenge is a sweetly laced cyanide capsule delivered with a dash of honey. Next time they old asses will learn to whisper or buy stronger hearing aid batteries before they talk about people.

Taking Shit Too Far

The other evening at Lady Carabanas place, while attempting to breathe through toxic fumes of a carcinogenic nature, unintentionally released by Jamaican Jerk Chicken (her Man was attempting to reheat some crabs so she could continue stuffing her face – bless his lil heart), I came to the realization that some people just always have to take shit too far. You know the ones that if someone cries loudly at tragedy, they got to fall out on the floor and do the Pattie roll so as not to be outdone. Or that particular boyfriend that did you wrong but can’t let go now that you’ve moved on. Knocking at your door intoxicated all hours of the night. Sending you outrageously vulgar text messages about you being the biach that ruined his life? I ain’t gone call no names but King Jafi Jafur you should know better.

Some people just don’t know when enough is enough or that they have just gone too DAMN far. For example, take the guy in Australia who created the Virginia Tech massacre game and posted it on the internet. Now why couldn’t he just let the dead rest in peace? Don’t put the departed souls on the net, t-shirts, coffee mugs or what have you. Let the dead REST IN PEACE!!! Obviously some persons are not taught the proper etiquette when it comes to the deceased. Peoples don’t need nor want to be seeing all that. Then little YT had the nerve to say he would take it down if people sent him money. Now see if somebody go over there and straight tie his lil ass up Rick James style he’ll know next time not to take shit too far.

Another instance where folks, especially Nigras, seem to take shit too far is the work place. If you know your black ass ain’t coming to work or you quitting a job or what have you. Don’t post a missing persons report in the paper for your damn self. Or call your boss 3 weeks later tomboutsome (talking about some –please store this in your slang dictionary) you was a witness in a federal money laundering case & you still in protective custody in the Pocono’s. That’s taking shit too too far!

I guess the point I’m trying to make people is that if you gotta make a scene, know the limitations. Understand where the lines are drawn. If you take a girl out on a date, forget your wallet, she has to pay and then you get on her doorstep & trust to ask to come in for some nookie. That’s taking shit too far! If your baby daddy and his new baby mama is at the corner store when you pass by, don’t call your cousin Bey Bey & LoQuisha up there to help your fight her. That’s taking shit too far! Last but certainly not least. If you find yourself getting ready for an event and you look in the mirror and a XTRA sequined Dr Bobby Jones is staring back at you; DUMP the glitter cause that’s taking shit too far!

Jesus Be A Fence

Ok People I am officially changing my name to Traumatic Jon’ta’niece Jones!!!! Why? One may ask. Because! One may answer!!! My life is in a complete downward spiral!! After enduring countless minutes of Floyd Merry Weather Man Sr. (WHAT IN THE 4, 5 HELLS WAS WRONG WITH HIS DAMN HAIR- I MEAN HEAD) this the type of shit Oprah needs to have a Town Hall about!) and Larry Merchant attempting to carry on a conversation all the while channeling a broke down Marion Barry and a somewhat deceased Johnny Carson, all the while suffering 3rd degree underarm burns and some more in other UNMENTIONABLE areas courtesy of NAIR – WARNING BLACK PEOPLE- THAT SHIT AIN’T FOR US!!

And to make matters worse a cameo of Wesley ‘MFR Crispy Chicken Neck’ Snipes popping up on the big screen nearly sent me to the clinic. I felt unclean and violated. Like I needed to run down to the Martin Luther Rosa Parks Jackson Clinic for the Poor and get a shot of penicillin in the ass right away! That Nigra looked like an over sweat gleaned Chinese fry cook who just ran out of seasoning roaches for the cat’sichauan noodles! I simply refuse to acknowledge the pastiness that is John McCain even being there.

I mean here I was stuck at a fight party that could only be described as a cross between The Wire and Driving Miss Daisy while Ms BBB – my new arch nemesis- was bumping implants with J-Ho-Lo & Skeletor (now yall know Marc Anthony looks just like that man) and trading trick secrets with 50 Cent at the MGM!! What have I done wrong to deserve such suffering? Doesn’t all that volunteering with them bad ass kids in Palmer Park count for something? DAMN!

Needless to say I needed my Sunday morning fix of Jesus like Paris Hilton needs a good stiff well placed foot and soap on a rope (yeah Missy Ann got some jail time to do). Hemingway – I headed down to my favorite “Jesus Be a Fence Around Me” gathering spot with Lil G and guests in tow – Lady & Lil Carabana of course. Well it was exactly what I needed! A guest preacher from North Carolina complete with gold tooth and Rickey Smiley hymn recitation!! Perfect. I caught the spirit and held on for dear life.

I don’t believe Lady Carabana got the full effect though. It’s hard to catch the spirit when the Head Ursher Lady got to bang on the door of the mini sanctuary room until you release the porcelain prayer pedestal to someone else. I told her not to eat that McDonalds but you know how greedy folks are. She gone learn.

So far the spirit continues to hold me. God is good, I know he is. If I can endure an after church call from Harvey asking me out for chittlins & ribs – his treat of course, than I can make it through the remainder of the week.

I'm Back

Hi Family!!! Missed Me? GREAT!!! Normally I would have more excuses than a Nigra going to jail about why I haven’t updated in a minute. But the truth of the matter is I just have NOT felt like telling yall my business and when I did feel like telling; I was just to damn lazy to get up and write. So there you have it. You know Ms G will always keep it real with my peeps.

Every since I went to Carabanas house and ate all the salmon, shrimp, peas & rice, mac&cheese, roast, chicken, potato salad and collard greens I could stuff into my body, I’ve been unable to move around much. Have you ever had food so good that you would deny your own mother –possibly Jesus – just to get another bite? The ancestors put the secret between her toes so she could put her foots in that food.

I honestly didn’t think anything would be able to bring me out of the lethargic state I’ve been in. I mean if a trip to Hechinger Mall on a Saturday – with every weave queen and her momma out – couldn’t do it …then…..? Sure I laughed at the Ghetto Grandpa Pimp with his gelled back cornrows leaning to the left in a 1985 Lexus Super Coupe. And we all know the plus size sistas in the super tight lycra are the staple of community comedy. But even that didn’t inspire my fingers to rise up and type a litany of “Why Must My People Be This Way!” Just as I was about to donate my laptop & close down my page the workplace came to the rescue!

Now some super super super SUPER special person decided to send out a flyer company wide posing as a reputed R&B sex offender – I better say alleged ‘fore they send somebody after me ‘cause yall know how the Rarrah Kells get down – talking about co-workers and they tight jeans, big foreheads, cheap pockets you name it! Ummm ‘ham mercy on my soul. I was APPALLED!! It was funny as hell and caused me to have a Depends moment but I was still appalled. So you know if I was appalled honey YT damn near had an epileptic fit up in this biach!!

Honey emergency meetings were held, email tracing software was purchased and the police were called. It was a MAJOR moment. Some pink faces were streaked red with tear stains. Of course all the colored employees were scared cause you know they was gone blame it on us. I mean after all half of the establishment didn’t know who R Kelly was. I took all the R Kelly songs off my computer. Losing my job is not an option & I know good and well R Kelly ain’t gone give me a damn dime.

Needless to say I have been on my best behavior for the past few days. I’ve cut my tardiness down to a ½ hour. I leave at 4pm instead of 3pm. Plus I have reduced my standard lunch hour from 12 to 3 down to 12 to 1:30. I don’t want Massa to have any excuses to put me off the plantation.

I’ve discreetly tried to find out who the culprit is but ain’t nobody talking on this one. Peoples is scared!!! I mean really afeared (Bigmama says that’s a word)! It’s just terrible having to walk around choking on laughter. We Nigras is scared to emuch smile to hard ‘fore they thinks we did it. This is interfering with my weekly supply collection of tissue, soap, bags and pens – THEY watching everything!!! Hopefully it will all die down soon. I’m trying to be optimistic but they holding on to this like Sharpton did to IMUS. Keep Hope Alive!!!