It's Been A Long Time...I Shouldna Left You

The following post is a summary of why I thought the Mayan calendar was right and that shit was gonna get really real for us on December 21.

A few months ago a friend of mine (and I use the word friend loosely) sent me this jewel from a precious little lamb named Trinidad James: 

It took me a full 7-10 business days to realize this shit wasn't a joke. Like this dude is dead damn serious. Rapping about mollies, gold, and niggas. All while looking like he just might be one of the last folks to step off the Underground Railroad.

I just knew that this guy was a sign that the Mayans were right. When he signed a record deal with Def Jam, I went into Doomsday Prepper mode. I hit Safeway shelves for non-perishables, toilet paper, batteries, and bottled water.

Then this happened:

A Tyler Perry movie that I think I want to see. I don't think I have to say anything more. Just know that after this happened, I began watching the sky for locusts and checking to see if the Patapsco River was flowing blood instead of water.

One of my followers sent me a video. It's Ices Brown. I said a little prayer before I pressed play. Then this happened:

First of all...why is this chick so damn greasy? Look like she bobbed for wings and thighs in Precious' bucket of chicken. This purple shirt got her giving all kinds of Grimace realness. And don't even get me started on the fact that she don't even know the words to the dang song!!

When I tell you I got down on my knees and prayed to the Good Lord for help?!? Y'all just don't understand. Ices took me to the edge and I was gonna voluntarily take a swan dive off. I also seriously considered tunneling a bunker under my apartment building. When things like this are happening in the world, you just can't take chances.

But even with all of this calamity, the world didn't end. Sweet Baby Jesus' Daddy said he chooses the hour and the minute that the world's rotations stops. It's gonna be a surprise. But that doesn't mean that y'all can keep letting foolishness happen. We have to stop giving him reasons to push fast forward. 

Let's do better in 2013. Please.

I Don't Even Know What To Call This...

Greetings friends!!! I know, I know.  I've been gone for a minute.  Yes, there's been plenty of foolishness running rampant in these streets.  But honestly not much has moved me enough to write about.

I mean there was Herman "Big Daddy" Cain and all of his Tiger Woods-y foolishness.  ReDICKulous fellated himself and managed to gross out a whole nation of people.  Chrissy molly whopped Kimbella.  Ghadafi got murked.  And then there's the "Frankie Leg".  Every single one of those incidents had me damn near death.  But not one of them made me feel that feeling in the pit of my belly.

That feeling that's kind of like half gas, half anxiety.  The one that makes me feel like I just took a couple spins on a Tilt-O-Whirl after eating 15 funnels cakes.  I haven't felt that feeling since the last time Ices Brown dropped down and got her eagle.

Nope.  I haven't felt that way in a good long while.  Almost forgot what it felt like.  Until I saw this....

Look closely children....this is what a real, live dumb ass looks like.

Okay people.  Look at this good stuff and concentrate real hard.  Maybe you have an answer for the question that I need to ask....

What the entire fuck was this broad thinking?

Now, I've been accused of being a super fan before.  In fact I proudly say that I think that Michael Joseph Jackson (R.I.P.) is the greatest of all times! *Muhammad Ali voice*  But the furthest I ever went to be closer to him was get a greasy ass Jheri curl and a red, pleather jacket with zippers.  No way would I ever get a tattoo of the guys name.  And if I did it surely wouldn't be on my forehead in size 40 Courier New font. 

And it most certainly wouldn't be a tattoo for Drake!! Drake? Like, seriously?  She decides to spend the rest of her days with the softest marshmallow in Hip-Hop's moniker stuck on her forehead?  I can't.

Drake is like the frilliest, softest, pinkest dude there ever was.  I bet if you poke Drake in the tummy, Jelly Belly's would fall out of his ass.  

If you are gonna do something like this, at least pick a guy that's had a murder charge.  Or at least a traffic violation.  Suge Knight comes to mind. Lil' Kim.  Bushwick Bill.  Hell, I'd even rather she picked Lil' Boosie.

But Drake?

Nah son.

I'm certain this dude bathes in only the purest of spring waters infused with the scents of lavender and gardenia.  

But this chick chose him.  The idea of it just makes me cringe.  We are talking about Wheelchair Jimmy people.  If anything get a tramp stamp of his wheels or that little blue tag that hangs from his rear view mirror.  Not a full on brand that makes your dome look like on of those Victoria Secret collegiate shirts. 

That tattoo is nothing but a bullseye.  She may as well have put "Punch Me" on her head instead.  That's pretty much what I want to do.  Punch her right between here eyes, about a 1/2" below that "A".

What About Your Friends?

So I was over at View of the World Through My Big Sunglasses reading what Lil' Lady has to say about haters.  I think she hit the proverbial nail on the head with her examples.  In fact, they all hit me right in the spot where my heart used to be. 

 

I found myself asking myself who really lets their friends go outside looking a mess?  Who condones squuuueeeeeezzzzzziiiinnnng industrial sized thighs into clothing that is four sizes too small?  Who really tells their friend that she is America's Next Top Model material, when her reality is that she's better suited for the cover of Blind Man's Weekly?  Who tells a guy that he's the next big rapper when he makes Wacka Flocka and Gucci Mane sound like they earned degrees from Harvard and MIT? 

 

My hypothesis is that there has been a severe breach in these folks circles of trust.  Somehow, someway the haters infiltrated their life and blocked all roads to common sense and good decisions.  This is why these people have problems.  Everybody needs a person or team of people in their life to tell them when they've made a wrong decision and inform them of the possible consequences of making it.  Reading through Lil' Lady's blog entry made me realize how blessed I am to have these kinds of people in my circle of trust.  Well, it's not really a circle is more like a triangle of trust, maybe even a straight line of trust, a duo of trust even.  You get the picture.  Anyway, like I was saying, these people need to have someone in their lives that is willing to tell them all of the things that the haters in their lives will not.  And since the people that say that they love them won't stand up to the challenge, I Tee, have volunteered for the job.  I'm going to consider this my community service for the millenium.  I'm behind on good deeds and angel wing earning behavior.

 

So here are a few rules of thumb to consider in order to keep the haters from wreaking havoc on your life:

• If it don't fit, don't wear that shit. 
• Trust everything you see in the mirror and nothing that your homegirl says.
• If your real mirror is giving off funhouse effects consider other options.
• Self-esteem is good.  Delusions are not.
• Ask a stranger (or an old person), see what they say.
• Everyday is opposite day.

Help me, help you.  Try to apply one or two to these rules to your life.  See how that works out for you.  We can't let the haters win.