August 13, 2001
Floating Clumps of Jizz
Whats crackalackin ya’ll, the resident bitter biaatch is up in here and punctual as usual. I been slackin on doin anything in this heat so I’ma apologize for taking my sweet time to holla at ya’ll, my favorite people in the world, grrrrrr (you dirty bastards) This heat got me wantin to do nada, it's too hot to talk shit but bitterness never stops… so here it go.
It Aint Broke….But We Will Be
While ya’ll are sittin at home anxiously awaiting your supposed “tax relief check,” I’m fuckin bitter that the whole idea of these checks ever came about, yes, ya heard me, I’m bitter. After a lil research and a lot of work translating the IRS information via the web, I came across the main point of these checks - this is an advance, repeat ADVANCE of what we’d receive next year. Meaning it’s highly likely that our refunds next year will be about $300 less than usual and bout $600 less if you’re married.
They didn’t tell us all that though, did they? They act as if we’re all out on luxury vacations with our “refund” checks. Fuck naw. What can you do with $300? I can put it toward my rent even though that ain't near covering the whole bill, or maybe I can finally get some real groceries - them Ramen noodles and Pop Tarts ain't tasty the 6th day in a row.
In the long run though, how much can this $300 do for me? Is that check gonna make me feel better next year when tax time comes around and I get a refund that is substantially less than past years? Am I gonna feel all jolly when I lose my job and I’m told that the economy is so bad that unemployment comp has been retracted? Will the memory of that $300 check spark such a warm feeling that I’ll temporarily stop shivering and forget that I’m holed up inside a cardboard box eating old moldy Big Mac’s out of Mickey D’s dumpster? Fuck naw.
The system wasn’t great during the Clinton years, but it wasn’t fucked up neither. I had settled into the shit, nothing big changed and I wasn’t as broke as I used to be. Ery’thing was rollin along. Why fix shit that aint broke?
Even some politicians are scurred about what this is gonna do to the economy. The US had to “borrow” $51 billion to pay for the refunds. Borrow from who, you ask?…..US, the taxpayers, me, you, and the chick sitting next to you. So they’re giving us our own money back, taxing us on it, then taking that amount off the top of next years tax return.
It ain't just because of my apparent hatred of George Dubya Bush that I feel things have gone downhill since he's gotten into office, it’s a fuckin fact. Unemployment is HIGH, over 233,000 jobs have been cut, thousands of companies have closed their doors in the 7 short months since that non-genius took his oath, and there’s still 3 years left to this term. I guess I should be grateful that I get to sit by and watch this piece of shit country crumble right in front of my eyes, it’s not an every day occurance. My advice is to save that measly $300 till next year when your company cuts 400 jobs, your phone is turned off, and you find yourself fitna move back into your momma’s house. The 3 bones should be enough for a moving van, at least.
Get Ya Life Right
It was one of them nights, temp about 93, humidity kickin my ass…I couldn’t sleep. I hopped online and found myself at BlackPlanet.com still bored as hell. I decide to jump into a chat room right quick b-cuz when BP was live and jumpin I was queen of the chat room, always talking much shit, ya know, the usual. So I click the button to get my chat on and the first thing I see scroll past my screen is
"who’s the baddest bitch in here?" I just rolled my eyes and proceeded to say wassup to the chat room. Two seconds later I get
"do you got a pic," "do you do oral," or
"can I call you." I know, what else did I expect. I always talk about how many losers use the net to meet someone but geesus does it have to be a 24/7 thing? I thought, dayum am I out of the loop? What the fuck have my people come to?
I asked if anyone in the Twentysomethings room was over 21…no one replied. I asked again, nope. Then I seen a message saying 25/F/Texas looking for a big dick to fill all my spaces. I was bout to start an all out war on the bitch who typed it, lock and load.
"Ya nasty bitch."
All the other ignant people in the room went on with their immature sexual escapades while I sent that Texas chick looking for a dick a long ass message, telling her what kinda woman would type some nasty shit like that, and what kinda man she would get if someone did respond. No response. I thought so. Still the queen of the chat. So I ain't outta the loop, I ain't gone nowhere, it’s ya’ll other people who need to get ya lives right. Can’t even get a decent convo goin in a chat room no more, it’s an all out cyber orgy, and the saddest shit is that half these people are into this shit for real, it’s a daily ritual for them. Guys sharing their stories of “bitches they met off the net” and how freaky they was. What a waste of time. I’ll stick to playin Dreamcast next time; I can’t sleep. The children are our future? Be afraid, be very afraid.
Shmack, Shmack
By now ya’ll hafta know I’m a po summamabitch, I had gotten into the swing of being po and adjusted to it over time, but now I’m fuckin bitter about it. It’s those certain times that I get into Biaaatch mode like when someone younger than you drives up in a 2002 Explorer and you huffin and puffin along in the 1990 Ford Escort, the one where you gotta hold down the parking brake and pump the gas to keep from rollin backwards on a hill. Or when you go to the mall and see them high school chicks carrying mad bags and you walkin around with just ya purse, hearing the spare change clink and clank as you walk.
I ran into a friend from high school the other day, she just graduated from college and bought a house. The whole time she was talkin I just daydreamed bout shmackin that geechy smile off her ugly ass face. When ya broke you find you have a whole new part of your personality, the evil side of yourself, for real. You don’t wanna hear no one talking about what cd they just bought, you don’t want no one callin you cuz you’d just be reminded of the phone bill you’re late on, and all hell will break loose if they consider asking you out to peep a movie; I’ve gone off on bout 12 people in the past 10 days.
Listen bitches, I’ma only say this once… Don’t ask me if I seen
Rush Hour 2,, no, I ain't go to the 112 concert, and I don’t give a fuck to hear how hot the shit was. If you feel the need to tell me your new Nikes cost $119 then I will find the need to shmack that smug look off ya fuckin face for even saying the words Nike and one hundred dollars in my presence. Your mouth... close it!
It’s amazing that I found the energy to get outta bed this morning, I don’t have the time nor the patience to contain myself from goin off on your stupid ass. Okay, maybe it ain't only when ya broke, I’m like this all the time. Just don’t get yourself shmacked. If you do get shmacked, don’t ack like you don’t know why. You been warned.
It’s the Jizz
I’m so fuckin thankful that the heatwave is finally over. It’s not often that you’ll find me fitna get in any got dayum pool but this past week…without an air conditioner, I almost went back on everything I believe in. Getting in a public pool is like taking a bath in a sea of urine, sweat, jizz, pubic hairs, dead infected bugs and dirty bandaids. Not appetizing to say the least, so I was a tad hesitant. I remember gym class in high school and I have not so fond memories, of the slimy, bacteria ridden water hole they actually made us immerse our bodies in. I contemplated even digging out my bathing suit b-cuz I knew that as soon as I got into it I’d change my mind. Just thinking of a close encounter with a strangers pubic hair or jumping into a spot of water that’s been warmed by someone else’s urine, I never want to be that close to unclaimed anonymous bodily fluids; It’s the jizz, I can’t swim in jizz.
So I decided to break out the kiddie pool and fill it with clean, fresh water. I was refreshed for all of 5 minutes when I seen a dead spider floating towards me. It was bad enough that I was sitting in a small, round, kiddie pool full of about 5 inches of water, but when I saw the spider it was over. I stood up real quick, jumped out, and started jumpin around ackin a fool. I just can’t win. The neighbors must think I’m a crackhead or su’thin, not to mention there’s an Olympic size pool about 50 feet from my front door, it’s a tad bit too public for my taste.
I guess it’s off to the car to sit in the AC, I can’t swim anyways.
All she wrote
It’s bout that time ya’ll, I’m bout to bounce. I wanna give a shout-out to all ya’ll who wrote to me. "They like me, they really like me." Thanks for real ya’ll.
Until next time keep it bitter, talk much shit, and watch out for floating clumps of jizz in ya pool.
Smoochies
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