okay... i'm just happy to be on the payroll... happy to be alive.....
the last week has been strange. currently, unbeknownst to me, i am warring with princess. since we've been back from our audit, she has continued to be somewhat attitudinal and passive aggressive. passive-aggressiveness in black women is such a turn off, and just no fcking fun... i mean i can take from any other woman, but a sister. i support your cause, even if it's with me, when you're able to hostile represent your sorry ass case to my face, or at least my black ass while i walk away from you and your argument.... and what makes it bad is we're the two brightest, professional women in our area (despite color). you know, i'm not her tomboi or her bitch ass niccah. i just get tired of being played (all the damn time), takin the high road and ignoring her stupidity. don't let the grammar or lack of the familiar (ghettoness) fool ya. i did grow up on the east side of a town, if you know what i mean. i can get "gully" (with language), 'cuz i ain't gone hit no body without knocking a bunch of people down trying to run away after probably bitch slapping some air. (hahaha) so, i'm walking on pins and needles, asking for my DAMN WORK PAPERS and support documentation for her work findings. i want to move cubicles. she and the ellen are too damn moody. and i would have thought the ellen and i would have gotten along better, considering we have soooooo much in common.
i hate motorcycle riders in austin. yesterday, a foolish motorcycle rider, we'll call hoochie man (it was written on his del valle motorcycle club vest, he's the president), cut in front of my MUSTANG! now mind you he was riding a touring bike, not one for speed, did he really think he'd make it far? anyway, i blew the horn at him cuz his fat white ass almost became a hood ornament, a crack in my windshield, or bug splat on my front bumper, scared the shit out of me, all i could think of was fat white crack and leather bits blowing through my windshield. anyway, i pull into another lane and say, "that's why you fuckers get hit". now this is when it get's interesting, he tries to BITCH me and MY CAR.... his dumb ass is riding in the left median, where i could pin his dumb ass or worse, a piece of 18 wheeler tire truck rubber could knock his dumb ass back off that stoopidly SLOW bike he was riding... anyway, he's screaming what did you say, what did you say.. like he's from new york or something... now what he doesn't know is I WISH I WAS FROM NEW YORK, so what did i do? i pulled the fck over. he rode past, so i caught up with him and told him "i said that's why you fckers get run over. i have already dialed 91, fck with me some more and i'll dial the last 1. you ain't gone bitch me... (hell it was over 100 degrees, traffic was awful, and i needed to kick a fcking dog after the day i had, and since i didn't have a dog, he'd be my bitch.) he reaches like he's punking me, so i told him he'd get punked and i laid on my horn in front of all places DRUMROLL a funeral home. yes, i felt disrespectful to those persons viewing their friend's/family's remains... and like a scared baptist i prayed all the way to my destination, "GOD, i know that was wrong, please forgive me and don't let me die right here right now with that on my conscious..... anyway, he drove away.... and i of course thanked GOD that i didn't get hurt or hurt anyone (with my car).
last night i won the slam... well, the team won the slam. we took first second and third. feels good to be apart of this group. i can feel growth personally, professionally and poetically. now i'm happy i won 'cuz a sister was broke and going to the rations.... i have been trying to save money... "13, don't let the account fall below _______, but my standards are shifting and it keeps falling below that amount." but my bank account(s) are speaking negatively of me (as Lovie says). i seldom follow the weekly budget. at least now i could spend money foolishly without going into the account...
lastly... well, i think that's all... i have to complete a gazzillion reports.... that were due two months ago.
the last week has been strange. currently, unbeknownst to me, i am warring with princess. since we've been back from our audit, she has continued to be somewhat attitudinal and passive aggressive. passive-aggressiveness in black women is such a turn off, and just no fcking fun... i mean i can take from any other woman, but a sister. i support your cause, even if it's with me, when you're able to hostile represent your sorry ass case to my face, or at least my black ass while i walk away from you and your argument.... and what makes it bad is we're the two brightest, professional women in our area (despite color). you know, i'm not her tomboi or her bitch ass niccah. i just get tired of being played (all the damn time), takin the high road and ignoring her stupidity. don't let the grammar or lack of the familiar (ghettoness) fool ya. i did grow up on the east side of a town, if you know what i mean. i can get "gully" (with language), 'cuz i ain't gone hit no body without knocking a bunch of people down trying to run away after probably bitch slapping some air. (hahaha) so, i'm walking on pins and needles, asking for my DAMN WORK PAPERS and support documentation for her work findings. i want to move cubicles. she and the ellen are too damn moody. and i would have thought the ellen and i would have gotten along better, considering we have soooooo much in common.
i hate motorcycle riders in austin. yesterday, a foolish motorcycle rider, we'll call hoochie man (it was written on his del valle motorcycle club vest, he's the president), cut in front of my MUSTANG! now mind you he was riding a touring bike, not one for speed, did he really think he'd make it far? anyway, i blew the horn at him cuz his fat white ass almost became a hood ornament, a crack in my windshield, or bug splat on my front bumper, scared the shit out of me, all i could think of was fat white crack and leather bits blowing through my windshield. anyway, i pull into another lane and say, "that's why you fuckers get hit". now this is when it get's interesting, he tries to BITCH me and MY CAR.... his dumb ass is riding in the left median, where i could pin his dumb ass or worse, a piece of 18 wheeler tire truck rubber could knock his dumb ass back off that stoopidly SLOW bike he was riding... anyway, he's screaming what did you say, what did you say.. like he's from new york or something... now what he doesn't know is I WISH I WAS FROM NEW YORK, so what did i do? i pulled the fck over. he rode past, so i caught up with him and told him "i said that's why you fckers get run over. i have already dialed 91, fck with me some more and i'll dial the last 1. you ain't gone bitch me... (hell it was over 100 degrees, traffic was awful, and i needed to kick a fcking dog after the day i had, and since i didn't have a dog, he'd be my bitch.) he reaches like he's punking me, so i told him he'd get punked and i laid on my horn in front of all places DRUMROLL a funeral home. yes, i felt disrespectful to those persons viewing their friend's/family's remains... and like a scared baptist i prayed all the way to my destination, "GOD, i know that was wrong, please forgive me and don't let me die right here right now with that on my conscious..... anyway, he drove away.... and i of course thanked GOD that i didn't get hurt or hurt anyone (with my car).
last night i won the slam... well, the team won the slam. we took first second and third. feels good to be apart of this group. i can feel growth personally, professionally and poetically. now i'm happy i won 'cuz a sister was broke and going to the rations.... i have been trying to save money... "13, don't let the account fall below _______, but my standards are shifting and it keeps falling below that amount." but my bank account(s) are speaking negatively of me (as Lovie says). i seldom follow the weekly budget. at least now i could spend money foolishly without going into the account...
lastly... well, i think that's all... i have to complete a gazzillion reports.... that were due two months ago.
