On Being Trifling

I thought I long left my trifling ways behind but I lied to myself. And that same act brought me back to trifling. This one's from the Personal File...

When I sought therapy in things, I had linked up with the last man I was in a relationship with back in 2005. Way back. We both pulled some disappearing acts on each other resulting in our very anti-climatic 2008 link-up fizzling out. Having moved back from Dallas this time around, he was someone I wanted to run into - if anything to at least get a free meal out of the situation. Much to the delight of the devil we linked up via our original matchmaker. Kismet right? I told myself. "Everything happens for a reason" echoed in the halls of my heart. I should have known that little devil on my shoulder had some sway over me...

After seeing each other again, I got the stats: has a 1 1/2 year old and lives with - excuse me I meant to say is with his baby mother- but he wasn't living with her. In the realm of being single and really in the reality of having some morals the vitals should have had him dissed on site. But being the masochist that I am I kept parlaying and what began as just "how are yous" quickly evolved into those texts...and you all know what I'm talking about: the "remember whens" and "send me a picture" and the all to weakening "I miss yous."

My Waybackex after less than a month propositioned me to be the side chick and I dutifully told him no, but it was sincerely said with much chagrin, sadness, and not the least bit consideration that it could still happen if we continued this verbal dance. So for therapy and in a transferal of impulse, I bought 3 pairs of shoes. Didn't help. He saw my purchases so clearly I was seeing him, although our meet-ups didn't allow for too much to go down. Eventually after some car time, words of encouragement through some crazy life shit, and getting back "our rapport" I gave in and cemented my place among the annals of the homewrecking hoes and did it. It was even in true homewrecking ho style with the room in the 'tele, sexy underwear and all.

As we laid there he said to me "what's on your mind?" And I didn't want to tell him. It would have been a hailstorm of "I know I supported this, but I know you're not mine and I don't ever want to do this again." And I didn't ever do it again - at least not with him. Because even though he was my Waybackex, and seeing him brought me back to "those days" in '05 - he and his attachments were not moving forward with me.

When I assessed my own motivations, I really did just want to chill. Movies, the bar for happy hour, talk shit, catch up. The devil is. a. LIE. We had something in '05. He now had attachments AND commitments. He wasn't mine. And judging by the birthday cake he got and pics of la familia he wouldn't be mine forevermore. I was ready to discuss these sentiments with him just because I was hoping for a clean closure-filled split and fallback. But instead - my attitude changed from warm to curt, and in a series of unfortunate events (as he would ask Lemony Snicket to verify on his behalf) he didn't make it to my nonprofit's happy hour (and that is my child as far as I'm concerned), he wished me happy birthday 2 days too late, and he lost some shit of mine I entrusted to him because well, I thought he wouldn't lose it. 

He said my emotions & ego got in the way but this was furthest from the truth. If my ego got in the way, I never would have debased myself to the status of hotel homewrecking flusie just so we can get in what was some fairly basic sex. I was tired however, of living in a fantasy that didn't even reap the benefits of an equally-yoked friendship. I knew I wouldn't get what I wanted. I already gave him what he wanted and what my body told me I wanted. But what about everything besides sex - that for the most part were in the safe zone considering his attachments. The day I stopped lying to myself was a good day - the fog and mist I was walking in lifted and I saw things as they were and not as i hoped they would be.

It's funny how we can convince ourselves of everything and bring God and/or destiny into the damn shady deal like God would ever cosign and destiny is down to be trifling. Needless to say, my Waybackex is no longer in the picture and I sincerely hope that Karma doesn't chance upon the trifling vortex I put myself in but - I can say that I am no longer delusional, seeking therapy in things, and definitely staying out of trifling territory.

“I been gone for a minute now I’m back with” TDA the BAWSE

I’ve been gone for a minute. I know…it’s been about an accumulation of way too many minutes but life as it happens to do every now and again caught me in the middle of its multi-faceted shit storm so I was just making it. In the world of just making it there is very little time for the clarity and astute writing of yours truly. But have no fear TDA! is here.

Amongst the drunken birthday emo-breakdown (unexpected but not really), the movers losing one of my boxes and my vacuum after bringing my life from Dallas about 3 weeks later than anticipated, having to chase MY money about 4 times over, traveling to Europe for 6 nights (so necessary), and working on the daily grind – it’s been a crazy 2 months.

In all insanity though, lucidity is never too far behind if you’re looking for it. So of the many lessons I’ve learned in the past few months, this post is your introduction to That Damn Anne, the BAWSE (as Ricky Rozay would say)

Those that know me are well aware that at any given time I’m working on about 4 different things. As an energetic, ambitious, do-er on a mission I legitimately can’t co-sign sitting around waiting for the world to present me with glitter and gold. My current roster (even though as the weeks change so do a few items on the list) is as follows:

1. Executive Director of The World is Your Oyster (TWIYO)
2. Co-founder of The Voluptuary
3. Researcher, grant-writer, paper-writer
4. Solo Jewelry-maker AnastasiabyAnne

Looking at this list it looks pretty paltry to me considering my day-job isn’t on there, and it doesn’t include the other things that seem to consume my time on a pretty regular basis.

I’m sure you’re likening my list though to one (or several) of your scatter-brained friends who hasn’t picked what exactly they want to do and is all ova di place. Every day they have a new job or interest, a new way to make it.

Again Ricky Rozay said it best “No sir, not me!” See when its time to hustle and flow, there are rules of thumb and the 1^st one is shown in my list: prioritize your hustles. I put myself into everything that I do. I truly (rule #2) enjoy everything that I do. But in picking my #1 hustle I found the thing that I would rather be doing EVERYDAY and that has enamored my heart, mind, and time. The 2^nd thing is very closely related to the first, but it’s for-profit so it will most likely ensure baller status so I have the option of making it rain at somebody’s hood-fabulous club one day.

Both 1 & 2 are helping me on my way to my mission. Hustles 3 & 4 are things I enjoy, services I provide to others – but most important those are the “Get money” hustles that put the dolla dolla bills in my hand quickly and without too much effort (rule #3: something you do has to benefit your pockets).

The most commonly asked question: “Where do you find the time?” Now this is tender topic for me because I am a self-professed Go Hard. Methinks that being a Go Hard by virtue of pledging has eradicated most of the fibers in my moral and mental tissue dedicated to making excuses. So disclaimer having been put forth this is a somewhat mathematical response to how alla dis happens.

There are 24 hours in a day. 8 hours in a workday. I have calculated that my average work-work (meaning what they actually want me to do when I’m at work) productivity is at its height at about 4 hours, leaving 4 hours to accomplish strides towards hustle #1 primarily. Hustle # 3 also takes advantage of some of these personal work hours left by what hasn’t been accomplished for #1. So at the minimum you have applied 4 hours on your workday to accomplishing something. Another disclaimer: I work in the nonprofit field so there is some overlap – but I email my cousin back & forth at work so I KNOW some of yall corporate folks be bored as hell…rule #4: find those extra pockets & maximize your time.

Bottom line is everyone makes time for what they want. How bad do you want what you want?

Rule #5: it’s a FLOW. By no means do I kill myself if I haven’t spent exactly 4 hours on my side hustles, by no means do I NOT partake in the social functions and happenings that make me, me. So get you flow together and figure out what works. My flow is that aside from 1& 2 the hustle list is malleable and I’m okay with that. That’s where my spice of life comes from (since the dates have all but dried up).

Okay so I’ve babbled enough about the hustle & flow but there’s one more thing I have to say. As a BAWSE, you have to make time for your team. Your team will always be the first group of ppl to show love, spend $$, and spread the word (at least they should be) so it’s critical that you are (rule #6) never too busy for your team.

I’m “out here tryna get, each and every way” with my focus on. Where you at?

The Therapy in Things

Hello, my name is Anne and this is my first public admonition of going to therapy....

Following the emotional floodgates of seeing a very special someone, who is NOT sans-attachment, I went back to doing what I do best. Seeking therapy in things. My fascination with things however is not some impromptu trait that recently made itself known to me. This surge of emotions was only the tipping point.

I've always been fascinated by things. I mean we do live in a materialistic culture so I guess my affinity for "stuff" was probably well-formulated by all my years of watching television (much worse has been known to happen because of watching TV though). I also have always been very observant. So when I rode the train with my mom I would look around and see snippets of "cool" things I would want when I got older. Bags, shoes, earrings, trinkets. Just stuff. 

As I got older, I worked to attain the "cool" stuff I wanted. And when my check was gone I would get my guy cousin Jr. to commiserate in my love for THE sneaker or pair of Tims I just HAD to stunt with. And so it was that growing up, things became a fascination and I slowly acquired things that people found "cool" and "cute" and "pretty."

Now also having fought the good debt fight quite early, I realized that I had a shopping problem. So I reigned that in with a sprinkle of common sense - "how many red, POINTY shoes do you REALLY need?" A smattering of restraint - "I'm not going to the mall, downtown OR any stores!" And a dash of reality - "WHERE are you going to put all of this STUFF?" That fared pretty well for a good stretch, but after a relocation, some bouts of isolation, boredom, frustration and loneliness I sought therapy in things.

I think I would be a great candidate to see a shrink for many reasons BUT I think I've got my therapy in things pretty well analyzed and to be quite frank, I've gotten some pretty fly shit during my "therapy" trips. I always stick to my main rule: NEVER pay RETAIL/ONLY ON SALE! And I also make sure to keep stock that I'm not adding a trillionth pointy shoe to the collection. So why do it? What's the point of seeking therapy in things? 

#1: Things are ALWAYS there for you. Things aren't the dependent variable, they're the independent variable. The ONE constant in my personal world of change and compromise.  It's not like things can get up and walk away, reschedule, skip out on dates, not call you back. 

#2: Things make me feel good. I always wanted to be "the girl with the cool stuff" and in my mind I LOVE being that girl. I think to some extent my affinity for things has taken shape quite healthy & nicely. Whenever I get my baubles during one of my therapy sessions there is a void that is filled. The therapy-inducing incident(s) may not go away but I'll be damned if I'm not excited about stuntin in my new shoes, wearing my new perfume, or hitting the town with my boss bitch dress. I love making additions to my home decor as well :-)

#3: It's a distraction with long-term benefits. Looking for things, buying things, thinking about things, are all ways to get my mind off the situations that I am tired of dealing with. Not that I'm a sweep under the rug kind of chick, but I am an OVER-thinker kind of chick. If rumination was a sport I would be a champion of champions. So it's a good thing to step back from the sometimes all-consuming, introspective vortex that certain incidents induce in my mind.

This past weekend I bought 1 pair of tan Steve Madden shoes, 1 pair of black suede clog-wedge peep-toes (they look MUCH cuter than they sound), and some gold Marc Jacobs rain boots. 

I figured if I'm going to be dealing with the flood gates I might as well do it in style and stunt!

Hi. My name is Anne. I seek therapy in things and I'm perfectly okay with that.

The GettinOld Blues

I'm 25. And it seems like leading up to this point and very much thereafter I'm beginning to feel the signs of age wearing on me.

I know I'm young. Very. Young. But only 3 months to 26, and I can't help but take to my blog to see if I'm the only one experiencing these pitfalls of GettinOld. I'll break it down into the 3 areas that I hear old ppl talk about: physical ailments, internal maladies, overall deterioration.

Physical Ailments

I've always loved to dance. At the club, at a bbq, anywhere there's music I'm guaranteed to dance solo, with friends, or whatever.

Upon turning 25 however, I fear that I can no longer drop it like it's hot. My thighs be BURNIN!

"Somebody call 911/Shorty's fire burnin on de dance flaww oo wooo"

Literally. Burning. The heels add a whole other variable to that burnin equation...

I've always only had a 4 hour maximum with my shoes, post-25 that 4 hour maximum has gone on to include:

no walking to the club in heels (to save the knees and balance ratio)
no unnecessary dancing to songs I have no affinity for (to save the heel stamina and prevent unnecessary sweating)

Sweat: an outfit's worst enemy has now become a standard part of my partying experience.

I remember when I NEVER used to sweat. It had to be at least 95 to get some bead formation on my forehead.

Now. It happens TOO MUCH. In CREVICES. BEFORE I'm done getting dressed. Like Whitney I sweat above my lips. ::Shakes fists in the air:: WHY??!! Has my internal thermometer really set off to this degree.

Sadly. It has.

Internal Maladies
I used to drink like a fish. If drinking was a sport I would have probably come up with at least a Bronze Medal considering my weight class and ability to tank the alcohol without any repercussions except your standard young person hangover.

Now. I can't even digest it as fast as I would like to drink it. Drinking has become a planned event in my social calendar. I have to plan to be fucked up, because the next day effects require my full and undivided attention.

From getting rid of the bile and that ghastly stomach feeling. Ick. To sleeping off the tiredness that ensues. UGH. To calculating when the best time to eat is, along with the appropriate meal (the grease ratio MUST be minimal). To being able to drink water without it tasting sweeter than it should - just being DONE is an event in and of itself that has to have a day after sequel.

I've never been keen on patience and I'm likening this to an internal malady because it's a mental thing. My fuse has shortened by a LOT. Considering it was already short, I am quite sure this isn't a good thing for anyone. Least of all me. But how do I even work on this? I'm only GettinOld out here...

Overall Deterioration
I just be tired. I move a little slower. And I need naps.

Makes adventure-having pretty hard but I've been managing.

I also have been trying to walk myself back into shape. As a petite young lady I know I "look" fit but these internal maladies have got to have some abatement somewhere...and maybe being in shape is the key...

Recovery time is a bitch....luckily I'm in good company when I'm hungover most of the time lol.

I don't even want to be naive about the fact that we all have to get old. I just NEVER thought I would FEEL it at 25!! I thought my legs would start burning at 30 maybe 28 on my more pessimistic days. Maybe it's something in the food we ate coming up that caused this? Since the kids now are overgrown maybe our insides were stunted on the quest to put hormones in these animals....

Dayyuuummmm! All I know is shit is real out here. But I'm determined to stay fly. So excuse me while I go sip on some wine to increase my digestive tolerance and clean the house in heels to stabilize my innate equilibrium. Shaking my GettonOld head.....

Because it's Tuesday & We Get Lo'

I love my friends. There are so many reasons I can list but as it pertains to this post, there's always an adventure involved at the most random times.

Those being the best types of adventures of course, this tale chronicles how my Roadie introduced me to the spot Get Lo. Based in Brooklyn of course, on a late Monday night chill session we ended up at Get Lo.

Now Roadie told me about his older lady friend {definitely NO judgment from me considering I'm not qualified} who is mad chill. Having told Lo about me, the introduction was finally made one very late Monday evening.

As we walked up to Get Lo the sound coming from the building was already letting me know what was up. Life in the hood has its benefits, including the absence of neighbors who call in noise disturbances, and the seemingly cool neighbors who don't need to sleep or go to work in the morning.

So we show up at Get Lo and she's a little distressed at the moment, which explains why she didn't connect the 'Anne' that Roadie introduced her to and the 'Anne' that was called to get down on the dance floor a little bit later. As a welcome distraction though, Lo was happy to take her mind off of what had been bothering her - and we were happy to take her to a happier place.

So settle in and chill session goin on... Lo' is fiddling with the already boomin system because the subwoofer wasn't as "doom-doo-doom" enough. Once the 'woof is 'woofin to her content and after a little more chillaxin, Lo' turned the lights off & turned the music up.

With a sliver of a bright blue light emanating from the sound system, mirrored walls, and the bass thump-thump-thumpin all in my chest - I'm just soaking it all in and boppin my head to the beat, when I see Roadie tap Lo' and tell her something that was clearly inaudible to me.

Lo' goes: "Oh! Diisssss AYYUUNNE?!"
As she dips down an entire level to really scope out if it's Anneintheflesh.

I love my Roadie. And at that very moment I knew he really told Lo' about his good ol Roadie (yours truly) because of the above response. Not that I doubted him at all, but it just warmed my heart to know in my absence I was still... "around." ~End sappy moment~

"Don't be SHY!" Lo says and invites me to Get Lo...

And Get Lo I sure did on an early Tuesday morning in the heart of Brooklyn. No fuss, no muss. Just a bunch of friends partying like it was 1999 and like none of us had a care in the world. Hands in the air, swayin' with the music, like we own the place and it's only for us.

As time winded down, and my "gettinold" ass took a natural seat with the slow music break, Lo asked me to sign her table. As I sat there, I saw the signatures of my Roadie's crew and how they decided to leave their mark.

I felt more than happy and honored to leave my mark at Get Lo too; and of course I got an invite to the Get Lo event of the summer: none other than Lo's b-day B-D

I'll definitely be back at Get Lo with my bells and whistles on cuz aint nuthing like getting down where you're welcome, in the heart of where you're from.

Reading is Fundamental: A Letter to the Future Leaders

"If you ever want to hide something from a black person put it in a book" ~Unknown

From the time that I can remember I loved to read. My mom used to tell me that when I first learned how to read I read everything from train signs, to posters, to billboards and anything in between. I am quite aware that I have for the most part of my life been a (cool) nerd and liked school, homework and those types of things - so by no means is this post a crusade to convert non-reading aficionados into bookworms.

But the fact remains that reading is fundamental. When I Googled the quote above to see if I could track down who said it, I came across this link:

http://ar-ar.facebook.com/topic.php?uid=113960473311&topic=15101&post=78855

from which I'll be excerpting bits & pieces...

There hasn't been one thing that has benefited me professionally, personally, and financially that did NOT involve reading, processing, and understanding what I was entitled to. From refunds and credits, directions, invitations, job opportunities and duties reading is the one skill that lends itself to developing other skills.

"Their IGNORANCE is the primary weapon of containment...We now live in the Information Age. They have gained the opportunity to read any book on any subject through the efforts of their fight for freedom, yet they refuse to read."

I often see - well let me restate - on occasion I see young ladies reading on the train. They're never the type of things that you can really learn from though. It's the street literature that has the cache with these girls...But having read a few of those when I was like 12ish I'll sum it up with a face :-/ I'm sorry but the stories about Tyquell and his ride or die chick who goes down for him after she gets caught up in his drug game are.....not anything that can educate me.

I know some reading should be for enjoyment purposes but I don't see many of us read AT ALL. Not AMNY, not Metro, barely a magazine...smh something. I read Vogue and even if I don't live that life I always take away something from it. Including upping my vocabulary :-)

I watch my little cousins engulf themselves in their damn DS all day. They don't even know how to interact with the real world because their faces are constantly buried in some alternate reality. My cousin bumped into an old man on the street because he "didn't see him" and he reads above his grade level (thanks to great parenting). But if only they knew that reading could do so much more for you than a video game. Where's the IMAGINATION? Where's the CRITICAL THINKING?

We have access to so much information that it is quite possible to suffer from overload. So many FB statuses have the wrong "there" so many tweets have you wondering if ppl thought that passing elementary was the be all end all of grammatical life. Everything comes in spurts. Even kids shows these days make NO SENSE to me. There isn't a logical, coherent, progression of thoughts. There's no sequence of events. It's just. A mess.

Reading taught me how to organize my thoughts and how even when it may not make sense in the beginning - if you have the imagination and vision to tie everything together, stick it out until the end, you'll be in on the story. That goes for books that teach too...

"There are numerous books readily available at Border's, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon.com not to mention their own Black Bookstores that provide solid blueprints to reaching economic equality (which should have been their fight all along) yet few read consistently, if at all."

Now I'm not saying that the solutions to all black ppl's problems are in books - but reading has become even more fundamental now because that's how you PAY ATTENTION in today's world. That's how you sift through all the bull that you get fed listening to "Pookie and 'em," sitting on the stoop, and NOT knowing how everything in Washington actually affects you way more than Daddy Warbucks and his crew.

I think there's a very serious correlation between the fact that most black children can't read at their appropriate grade level, and that reading remains to be fundamental. It's 2011...slaves weren't allowed to read but here we are with the right to it and it's still not happening...

I often get 'complimented' by los blancos who say to me all the time "You speak so well!" or "You're so articulate!" I don't even know if that is a compliment - because I can tell you after going to school for over 20+ years, with 2 degrees, and way TOO much debt I expect nothing less than how to speak well! Shiiiieeeet I would sue the whole system if I couldn't do at least that for all that money. But I still acknowledge reading has made me a much better writer, and better at articulating things.

If the children are our future, my ass is scared! With the Age of Entitlement youngins coming up in the ranks I'm going to need some insurance from somewhere that all my money wont disappear at the bank, that they'll know how to do their jobs, and that they'll understand what I'm saying when I call them incompetent to get my refunds.

My contingency is to help expose and engage these kids to the world that's out there but I know I can't be the only one. I just hope that these kids learn from somebody, somewhere that reading is fundamental. And without it your just a blind person walking in the dark on these streets.

It's August & That Last Week Was....

In terms of popular culture, last week can be summed up with one word: STOOPID. So dumb that the appropriate spelling of the word does NOT suffice - a big word can;t even be ascribed to the tomfoolery that was the last week of July in popular culture. Seriously.

Now I will admit that i do watch a preposterous amount of TV. But it's not like I'm not gaining something from it. Last week proved to me a few things that I'll shed light on at the end of my rant. So let's start with the rundown from the day we all LOVE to LOATHE: Monday.

Basketball Wives: Undoubtedly I could begin a rant about this in any one of the 7 damn milieus that displayed the boorishness that characterize the "except one - none of us are actually basketball wives" clique. I guess I'll start with the root of the debacles that ensued.

Meeka. As soon as this girl waltzed onto our television screens she had disaster written all over her mouth. Maybe if she had taped that shit shut she wouldn't have been in that situation. We've ALL been newcomers but how many of us can attest to being that...damn...thirsty. The cardinal rule with females is NOT to run your mouth, you have to peep the scene and THEN get in where you fit in. At least don't SHOW ppl that you do that. Fool them, trick them, stunt, front. But from the beginning I knew she was asking for it. As she did the entire season she ran her mouth too damn much. The situation was squashed and her tongue took off...running at lightening speed about some stoopid weeks ago comment. Everyone has to learn a lesson. Just sucks that you had to get mushed out of a country on national television...And peep how she never told Tami she was classless to her face. I have to pull out an old term we had for that in Brooklyn when I was coming up: pet. Seriously pet.

Suzi. "I didn't want to say anything but"another one who's PET. Why bring that shit up there...along the wonderful cobblestone streets of Rome, with a scenic backdrop. Your lisp-havin ass started a fire and Evelyn of course throws that gas. You too Suzi are deathly afraid of a verbal sparring match, and you definitely proved you were an underling when you read your "entire" text message string when NO ONE ASKED FOR ALLA DAT. Not interested in your new founded tucked under balls.

Tami. You have children. Need I say ANYTHING else in your special section here. No I'll continue because these are egregious social maturity issues and clearly you're not aware that fighting bitches over "principal" was something that should have STOPPED occurring after 25 - at the very latest. At a benefit yelling and carrying on about food stamps, at a Polo event, at dinner in Rome, at VIP in the club... in ROME?!?! I personally don't even want to visit that place until an extensive amount of time has eradicated the Italians memories of those ghetto ass bitches. There's something that I learned when I went to orientation before studying in Sydney. The Ugly American. Tami took the travel adage of the loud, obnoxious, demanding, unpleasant American traveler and upped it a whole other level to the "Grotesque American." At any point in time when I choose not to associate with someone do you know how I handle it?

......

.......

That's just it. I ignore them, cut them off, and move on. I've wanted to mollywop girls and guys alike PLENTY of times. But what exactly is the point? Now your titty is out, you can't party and finish the bottle of liquor, you look ignorant at someone's classy affair (again), and let me reiterate YOU HAVE CHILDREN. Sitchyoassdown. Build a bridge and get the fuck over it.

Shaunie. This bitch be fanning the flame before the gas even gets to it. Instigating, non-helpful I can see why Shaq put that court order tellin her to keep his name out her mouth. I mean why would you read a letter addressed to you in a lobby...out loud? She's the main one. Trust as a producer she needs ratings so there's no way not having fights would do her wallets good I'm sure. But I guess since traveling to a nice country for free is a perk worth the drama....

STOOPID.

Ms. Winehouse: may she RIP. In no way do I celebrate death or wish it on anyone - but really though her debut, celebrity-creating single was Rehab and she said they tried to make her go and she said "No, no, no" what did ppl THINK WOULD HAPPEN??? What you just do mad drugs for forever? This culture of following celebrity is just corny to me now.

Yall have all this money. Accolades. Press. Bling. Fly cribs. But where is the SUBSTANCE? Where are YOUR FRIENDS? Like non of yall have friends from your youth? No? Too normal? Money really made you? Meanwhile soldiers died the WHOLE WEEK. Fighting for these high ass gas prices we got going right damn now.

No shine for them. No recognition. No acknowledgment - besides on 1010 WINS and I know no one besides my aunt is playing that when she goes to work...And if Osama is DEAD WHY WE STILL AT WAR??? Now we trying to get ALL the Taliban? Lawd we gon' be at war foreva then because they birth these "insurgents"

STOOPID.

The Debt Crisis. I'm so SICK of these politicians. All the fuck they're good for is fuckin/flirting/texting recklessly, getting into scandals, and arguing. If that was a Black person doing what they were doing they would have been fired, shot, and protested against EONS ago.

I really would love have a Democratic experiment. Come Election Day how about NOBODY like nobody at all, vote. Run up on these fools and just SHAKE THE SHIT OUTTA THEM. They'll probably be at some fancy $300 lunch with a damn lobbyist. But the old people might not get paid? WHy should yall get paid. None of these people have mastered what we ALL got taught in like Kindergarten and the 1st grade: compromise - listening - playing fair.

Then we got the blockhead FB contributors talking about: "if Social Secutiry don't get paid I'm not voting for Obama again!" Right because Obama is supposed to wave his big black dick and SAVE AMERICA! People's ignorance into the workings of the government is just damn depressing because really it's not a complicated matrix...but I mean in all honesty if you don't vote for him again, that's cool I mean the Republicans are already planning to eradicate and or quarantine the US from the millions of leaches who are unemployed and sucking the life out of the country they live in :-/

STOOPID

T-Mobile/Macy's Downtown BK. I'm broke and honestly like I told T-Mobile's reps I've paid overdraft JUST to pay the bill before. But shit aint smart...so if I can prevent it I will. I called July 25 to cancel my payment arrangement. Shorty says your service may be interrupted. The next day, I tried to call my mother and was greeted by the "Doo-doo-doo dum" T-Mobile chime. WTF?! So I made another arrangement and got it put back on, the agent says ALL THE WAY AT THE END OF THE CALL "They'll be a $20 restoration fee" I was rushing but I definitely was like Ohhh iggghhhht. I'll call yall after I handle this interview.

Get to Macy's for said interview...mad hot ghetto mess going on. Arrived on time for a 2pm interview. Signed in. No one said shit, addressed me, or even said "We'll be with you" until the guy who's interviewing me calls me in at 2:50pm. Long story short (and sparing you the absurd outfits and relational skills) the job that was online wasn't even available. "I'll keep your number" No. Please for both of our sakes burn my shit. This wasn't meant to be. And of course I get an email at 6 pm saying the job isn't available. Now you tell me....

Back to T-Mobile. After getting the run around and being told "there's nothing we can do" with my angry approach "Even if you think you're charging me the bill will be short $20 every time." I parlayed with a Billing Specialist about the reality the next day. I've been with yall for too long to pull this shit without warning. You can't just CUT MY PHONE OFF no text, no warning. Customer Service Rep could have TOLD ME to reschedule another payment since my shit was off for all of 2 minutes. I can do her job in my sleep and we're all struggling. It's the agent's job to know how to help me and every other time they do...he got tired of my yapping and gave me a credit. Having to wait an extra day:

STOOPID

In Conclusion. One of my besties said it best: "when you have money you be bored...and you have nothing else to do than be concerned with drama I guess" I'm just thankful I don't hang out with classless, bum bitches who lack social maturity.

In terms of what's going on I sincerely hope ppl pay more attention to what's REAL. Blacks lost ALL WEALTH GAINS b/c of the recession. Largest gap in 25 years. But who cares about that when they're blasting who wore what to Ms. WInehouse's funeral.

As for the general masses learn the damn branches of government, watch School House Rock shit that's how I learned the shit. I'm just saying stop expecting (like too many Black ppl have done for too long) for people to just IMPROVE SHIT. IMPROVE YOURSELF. READ. LEARN TO READ. Anything besides saying you're about to do NOTHING because you don't have your way.

Customer Service is a job, just like representing your constituents in Washington. When people don't get on their job or when they violate you can do what YOU want - but I refuse to pay for that shit because in the grand scheme of things too many ppl are looking for something to do for ANYONE to be doing simple shit WRONG. And I'll remind those slackin asses whenever it affects me because I refuse to be like this past week suffering from

STOOPID.