Sunday, June 27, 2010

I Wanna Thank My…

“Shout out to the sound-booth!”

So I’m sittin’ here in service, listenin’ to the recent graduates thank God, their momma, their hood waddup, Detroit? Southside! and their first grade teacher’s next door neighbors’ dog Spot and everyone in between, right? Yeah…the word bored doesn’t come close to describing how I feel at this current moment in time. I’m so thoroughly uninterested in the goings on that I’m counting wigs and weaves in the congregation.
So far I’ve got six phony-ponies, four wigs and seven weaves, one of which has tracks peaking out and throwin’ up gang signs like “Eff yo’ set, Sewn In’s run this thang, nicca!”
Jesus be a hot comb and better quality weave. Skip the synthetic, go human, hun.
Aight, let me leave Sister Sew-n-Sew alone. I heard it was supposed to storm later on and I don’t need to do anything else to tempt God to toss a lightning bolt my way.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

“We fallen angels rockin’ halo’s”

Why is there always that one person in church that claps loudly and off-beat?
Better question: Why was Bro. Heavy Hands sittin’ behind me doin’ the “Grindin’ beat on my eardrums with every round of applause during service earlier? If I wasn’t so concerned with the state of my Immortal Soul, I woulda turned around, smacked him upside the head with the New King James version of the Bible and hummed “Goin’ Up Yonder” while proceeding to do so with amazing grace as I beat him with a hymn book. But possibly unluckily for him, Judgment Day isn’t too far off and I’ll have more than enough to answer for.
Happy Fathers Day to all the real fathers, single mothers, aunts, uncles, grandma’s, next door neighbors, et cetera and ad nauseum that are holdin’ it down in the life of a child somewhere. You’re appreciated more than you know and in honor of today and all of you, I won’t delve into my pile of daddy issues. Nope, I’m gonna keep it movin’ with my Track of the Day and call it a post.
Today, my Pastor and newly appointed Bishop preached from Matthew, 7: 13-14

(13) Enter by the narrow gate; for broad is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. (14) Because narrow is the gate and difficult is the way that leads to life, there are few who find it.

And he went on to talk about choosing the right (see: narrow) path in and during our spiritual lives. While he was explaining how and why the narrow path wasn’t going to be an easy one to take, an edited version of  "The Narrow Path , my favorite song from  Blu and Exile’s Below the Heavens, was playing softly in my head.

Packin' up my bags
Hoppin' back on the narrow path that's planned for us

Tryin’ to tell my folks that flowin’ ain’t easy
Travelin’ down this yellow brick road until it frees me
I need a pen, I need a pad, I need a place to go
To get this shit lifted off of my soul

  It's been a long goin', troublesome road and I'm still travelin'.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

In. Tolerance.

Jesus be an electric, razor wired, ten foot fence.
Why must you insist on beating the dead horse that is Homosexuality, Black Church? Why? Don’t you realize that all you’re doing is spreading seeds of intolerance? How can you say that you stand for and represent a God who stands for love when what you’re preaching from the pulpits in your various houses of worship is hate?
Yes, homosexuality may very well be a sin, but hasn’t it been said that our God hates the sin and not the sinner? Stop trying to use God to further your misguided missions in life and learn to embrace all of His people.
After all; that is the Christian thing to do, right?

Friday, June 11, 2010

Alley Cat Strike…Out.

“I got no words for these niggas; I’m instrumental on ‘em.”

If and when my arm falls off, I’ll be using it to beat some sense into these people for making me bowl another game.
But whateva. I’m gonna ignore  them, my swollen and slightly throbbing fingers and the fact that my Sony just started playing Johnta Austin’s demo of “One Time for Loveand keep it pushin’.
I can see beneath that jaded cover, that you’re a girl who’s starved for lovin’, so to you I offer all my heart…
Ugh; dammit Johnta!
*changes the song*
Electric Relaxationby ATCQ; much better. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Operation The (Infamous) One Will Have a Good Gotdang Weekend Despite the Fxckery, or “eff the dumb shxt” for short.
See, I refuse to let the nonsense stop me from enjoying myself. I don’t have the time or the patience necessary for all that. I’ll be too busy flirting with The Young One on ooVoo although Egg is still in possession of my laptop which might just ruin that plan smh and trying to decide if and when I want to head out to Kalamazoo or not. If any of the above falls through—and it might because I have some of the worst luck in the world—I thankfully have other plans. Might head back out to Detroit for a little while to kick it with a few members of my fam that I can actually stand to be around for longish periods of time or I might head out to Flint to do this thing. Who’s to say?
But uh…yeah. There’s this rather gorgeous guy walking in my general direction and the pimp in me would die a little death if I didn’t apply a quick coat of Mango Sorbetto lipgloss and go introduce myself.

Insert Sarcastic and/or Rude Title…Here

“They tellin’ me I ain’t shit, it’s quite true; constipation takes patience.”

So, I’m sittin’ here, tryin’ to figure out if I give a fanga in the middle and a soy sauce packet about the fact that XX and XY are currently givin’ me the stank face, right? Y’know, like I’m all afraid of them and shxt?
Welp. I just decided that I give neither a fanga in the middle, a soy sauce packet or a four day old egg roll as I throw them my patent pending don’t forget I’ll be choosing your nursing home so act accordingly” side eye from my table.
I’ve got a headache that’s only being exacerbated by the fact that
1) Bowling alleys are generally loud and Royal Scot is proving to be no exception. Yay.
2) My freakin’ mp3 player has decided to play nothing but songs that remind me of He Who Must Not Be Named which makes me sad and in turn irritates the eff outta me. I hate being sad, dammit.
3) Erm…hello. I’m stuck with The Chromosonal Donors and The Sibling. I’d rather be somewhere enjoying a nice bowl of organic kitty litter.
Oh, how could I forget that
5) XY has recently taken to wearing his wedding ring and referring to XX as his wife…
*blows apple cinnamon flavored chunks*
Jesus be an electric fence all around his obviously addled state of mind every day. And that’s all I have to say on that.
As I’m so fond of telling anyone who’ll listen, I’ll be discussing my multitude of issues with a therapist one day soon. You’ll thank me for not elaborating further when you see my therapy bills; believe me.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

And on the Sixth Day...

There’s a very fine line between “angry” and “pissed the effyouseekayoheffeff”. A very fine line. Tell me, which side of said very fine line do you think I happen to be on at this moment in time?
Under normal circumstances; I wouldn’t hesitate to tell you just what’s got my boy-shorts in a comedic twist, but these? Yeah…normal circumstances these ain’t. Dwelling on any of the reckless, totally uncalled for bullshxt that’s currently occurring in the Wonderful Realm of Ren would probably piss me the effyouseekayoheffeff to the point that I go on a targeted choking spree. So instead, to avoid wrapping my in desperate need of a manicure hands around certain people’s necks, I’m gonna touch on just a few of the things that are annoying me and be out.
1) My uterus is scheduled to begin it’s monthly mollywhopping of my intestines in a couple of days and everywhere I go, stores are out of my Hershey Special Dark chocolate bars. Those, along with my assorted heating pads and various bottles of Midol and ibuprofen, are the only things that keep me alive and semiconscious during that time of the month.
2) The dude who just rolled up on me callin’ himself tryin’ to holla just blinded me with his bright ass, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brownmeets Tropicana Pure Premium low pulp, orange polo and my eyes have yet to adjust.
3) The number of people who feel the need to harp on my quote unquote “anger issues” is slowly yet ever so steadily rising. The day that people realize that the only effin’ issue I have in regards to my “anger” is with people who do dumb shxt that pisses me the effyouseekayoheffeff can’t come soon enough. For example
4) Egg doesn’t seem to realize that she’s acting just like Sperm did with El Jefe.
I don’t give a fanga in the middle about the fact that they’re “dating” each other again…I’m lyin’ like shxt.
She’s the one who told me that all men are dogs I know, I know. Bitter much? and then she goes and get’s with the main munfxcka that needs to be put down? After telling me that I “deserve so much better” than the guys that she thinks I’m involved with, she goes and gets back with that? Anyway…
XX insists on trying to force that “man” down my throat, barking commands like “speak” at me whenever he’s around, which is, as I already said, exactly what he used to do in regard to The Broad-Backed One. If I wish to acknowledge his presence, I’ll do so. After all, that’s what he did to me for the past fifteen years of my life. Turnabout is fair play and all that, right? Whatever.
Since I’m still on the subject of The Egg Donor and am moving swiftly away from the topic of “dear old dad” *side eye*
5) Egg ganked my laptop earlier in the week while I was listening to WQXR and cleaning my room and has yet to return it even though I have more than met her terms and conditions. Once again; she’s reneged on the deal that she’s forced me into by trying to get me to do above and beyond that which I needed to do in order to have my frickin’ property returned to me. Ugh.
I miss flirting with talkin’ to the Young One on ooVoo feel free to hit me up on there or Skype: LauRenxExCarter
Sure, I get to talk to him on the phone all the time which is cool, but I kinda miss him mocking my movements on cam. It’s cute.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Cinder. Elle. E.

“Don’t sound too good; it sounds ‘Tainted’ to me.”

By a show of hands, how many of y’all would be surprised if I were to say that I’m not in a good gotdamn mood right now? Nobody? Okay…now, by that same show of hands, how many of y’all wouldn’t be surprised at all?
Damn, don’t everyone raise your hands at once!
I’ve been cleanin’ all gotdang weekend and it’s hot as grits on Al Green in the upstairs rooms of my house. I’ve got a ginormous  see: Rihanna’s twelve point nine head headache brought on by The Chromosonal Donors innate sense of idiotic inanity. My mp3 player, in between annoyingly frequent spaz outs, has been playing songs that remind me of He Who Must Not Be Named. The very fact that HWMNBN is on my mind right now saddens and annoys me, as does the fact that I have my own personal Lord Voldermort out this bish.
Hmm; what else…
For reasons that are still unknown to me, I’ve been locked out of my main Twitter account and have been forced to use my backup. Twitter and their effing “support” team are making me jump through hoops to get my password changed and with every support ticket and request for a password change that I file, I get more and more aggravated. If they keep up the bullshxt, I’ll be forced to switch my social networking allegiance to FaceBook or even *gulp* MySpace. Didn’t take Kat Stacks this long to get her ish back. Within hours she was back to spreading venereal disease and hearing AIDS with her cackle on the Interwebnets and I can’t get a simple password change request answered?! 
I just had a slight wardrobe malfunction and my creepy neighbor witnessed it. Ewww. Dad Sperm won’t get the eff outta my house and hearing Mom Egg fawn over him makes me want to blow gooey pink and yellow chunks. All. Over. Them.
Oh yeah. I sorta kinda almost but really do miss The Young One too. Just a little bit…
lol, aight, my rant and the breeze that’s comin’ through my window made me feel just a tad bit better. I’m gonna turn the volume on my Sony all the way up to 30 and, despite my throbbing headache, plug in my Sharper Image headphones, go downstairs and find somethin’ to eat. So uh, yeah. Until I feel the need to rant and/or rave again, I’m out.