Mr. Mac just called me to say that he was in the electronics section at Wal-Mart and they were playing the song I used to rap when I got intoxicated.Well, the Ice Cube verse. Because Ice Cube is the shiznit.
It's actually pretty funny to hear me rap this song. I am admittedly about as un-gangsta as they come. Crazy, yes. Gangsta, no. Of course, my brother, G, is a real-life rapper. It doesn't run in our family or anything; I have this Minnie Mouse/Mike Tyson/Michele' (remember her?) voice going on and don't know much about the rapper lifestyle except for knowing that I don't live it. Imagine Minnie Mouse rapping the Ice Cube verse at the end of this song. Yeah, no.
I cannot believe that they were playing this song at Wal-Mart - it was uncensored, too, I know because I made Mr. Mac shut up so that I could hear my verse. Wal-Mart is so 'hood. Especially around here. The last time I went to Wal-Mart, I made it all the way to the checkout line, got pissed because the line didn't move after 20 minutes and just walked out of the store (sorry to the re-stock employees). They never fecking have any lanes open! Seriously, why have 50 checkout registers/lanes/whatever and 2 cashiers? And what is the point of the self-checkout if you aren't going to let people use them? HATE!
In other news, I had dinner with Snow White and Prince Erik last night, which happens pretty much every Wednesday night. David is probably reading this now going, W(why)TF is this Jaz's code name for me? Well, it's simple, Davey. It's because Snow White is a Disney Princess and if she is going to be in a committed relationship with someone, it has to be a Prince. And out of all of the Disney Princes, I felt like Prince Erik was the best looking (and according to THIS POLL, I am not the only one). I loved me some Aladdin, but I thought it would be kind of weird to name you Aladdin considering the whole Jas(z)mine thing going on. Right? So, that left me with Charming, Beast, Hercules, Li Shang, The Prince (Snow White's official man), Phillip, John Smith and Tarzan.
So, let's go through my thought process here. Aladdin was nixed automatically. I didn't want you to be Beast because even after he transformed, he seemed sort of gross to me still (I always liked Gaston for Belle anyway - he was big and stupid though, but considering she had intense conversations with a tea pot and a candle-abra, who is she to judge?), Charming never said anything of importance that I could remember, The Prince allowed Snow White to be a dwarf-hoe, John Smith didn't end up with Pocahontas in the end anyway, and I never really got into Hercules or Tarzan. Did they even have princesses? Li Shang was actually a front runner just because I thought it would be EXTREMELY hilarious to give you that name, but in the end, the red hair influenced the decision (Ariel was a red-head 'memba?).
And so, that is how you came to be Prince Erik.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Mexican is NOT a Language
I don't think I really know any Mexicans. Sure, I have seen them before, but I don't really know any.
Which makes me wonder, in a city so "allegedly" overrun with the ever-growing Hispanic population, why don't Mac and I have any Mexi-pals? Does it count that when I called Amigo's Mexican Grille (shout out to them for always making my order exactly how I want it!) last night, after I placed my to-go order, the guy on the phone totally recognized my voice.
Manuel:Hey, do I know who this is?
Me:Yeah, it's me
Manuel: Man, I haven't talked to you forever -- they've had me over at the other location. It's been like 3 months, I wondered if you were still coming.
Me: Well, I'm glad you are back. I gave up you guys for Lent, so I just started back a few weeks ago. Who is the chick that has been answering lately?
Manuel: That's my cousin, she's kind of slow in the head, isn't she?
Me: Yeah, dude, when I call we go through the same shit every week where she acts like she doesn't understand what I'm saying so I finally have to tell her to just go to the back and tell them it's me -- they know what I want
Manuel: She's really stupid
Me: Well, I missed you guys. Tell your brother I said hey. How is your Dad?
Manuel: He's alright, just working us all the time... You on your way?
Me: Yeah.
Manuel: Just give me 8 minutes. Just park at the door.
You think I eat there too much?
We are going to let my relationship with the owner's son at Amigos Mexican Grille count.
In other, but somewhat related news, at the gym last night, Kandis and I were sitting on the window ledge with Edison when his phone rang. He answered in the middle of our conversation and started speaking in a foreign language to, most likely, his wife. Kandis says, "Is he speaking Mexican?" which is funny for several reasons:
1. the obvious: Mexican isn't a language
2. Kandis is an exceptionally intelligent person
3. Edison is Puerto Rican, not Mexican
4. I was delirious from that freaking hard as hell Body Attack class we had just taken (courtesy of Snow White Allison the Drill Sergeant from Hell, Les Mills, and Riviera Fitness of Homewood)
Skipping back --
Can I say that I LOVE the fact that my Mexi-pal called his cousin stupid and slow?
Which makes me wonder, in a city so "allegedly" overrun with the ever-growing Hispanic population, why don't Mac and I have any Mexi-pals? Does it count that when I called Amigo's Mexican Grille (shout out to them for always making my order exactly how I want it!) last night, after I placed my to-go order, the guy on the phone totally recognized my voice.
Manuel:Hey, do I know who this is?
Me:Yeah, it's me
Manuel: Man, I haven't talked to you forever -- they've had me over at the other location. It's been like 3 months, I wondered if you were still coming.
Me: Well, I'm glad you are back. I gave up you guys for Lent, so I just started back a few weeks ago. Who is the chick that has been answering lately?
Manuel: That's my cousin, she's kind of slow in the head, isn't she?
Me: Yeah, dude, when I call we go through the same shit every week where she acts like she doesn't understand what I'm saying so I finally have to tell her to just go to the back and tell them it's me -- they know what I want
Manuel: She's really stupid
Me: Well, I missed you guys. Tell your brother I said hey. How is your Dad?
Manuel: He's alright, just working us all the time... You on your way?
Me: Yeah.
Manuel: Just give me 8 minutes. Just park at the door.
You think I eat there too much?
We are going to let my relationship with the owner's son at Amigos Mexican Grille count.
In other, but somewhat related news, at the gym last night, Kandis and I were sitting on the window ledge with Edison when his phone rang. He answered in the middle of our conversation and started speaking in a foreign language to, most likely, his wife. Kandis says, "Is he speaking Mexican?" which is funny for several reasons:
1. the obvious: Mexican isn't a language
2. Kandis is an exceptionally intelligent person
3. Edison is Puerto Rican, not Mexican
4. I was delirious from that freaking hard as hell Body Attack class we had just taken (courtesy of Snow White Allison the Drill Sergeant from Hell, Les Mills, and Riviera Fitness of Homewood)
Skipping back --
Can I say that I LOVE the fact that my Mexi-pal called his cousin stupid and slow?
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Quote of the Week
"Patron is not cheap and if I am sharing it with someone who didn’t put in on it then you damn well better keep that shit down and not throw it up all over the place."
-Ashley, on Branden's ho throwing up the Patron that she specifically asked her for a cup of.
-Ashley, on Branden's ho throwing up the Patron that she specifically asked her for a cup of.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Deja Vu is a Mutha Hater @ THOGB
So, as reported earlier, the Memorial Day Cookout at Casa McCrazy was canceled due to a horrible bitchtastic case of the snitch. As it do. Mr. Mac and I were actually resolved to the idea of a quiet day alone, at home, with nothing but the sexin' and The Boondocks DVD to keep us content. And then, we woke up and remembered that as cool (hot?) as the sexin' and The Boondocks are, food, alcohol and human interaction outside of ourselves is pretty damn high on the McCrazy hierarchy of needs. So, we did what any smart couple would do: we called someone else and told them that they needed to have a cookout.
Enter Randal 'Don't Call Me Randy' stage right. He is always down for people to come to the scene (except when he is all emo-angsty) and actually throws a pretty good shin-dig. And if nothing else, it will predictably give me a good story to blog about the next day.
Oh, Randy. You have yet to fail me, my man.
So, Mr. Mac and I get over to the bachelor pad {grossly now known as the House of Gettin' Butt (THOGB)} to find Randy, Kuntry (a McCrazy Favorite, btw), and some chick I have never seen before that bears a strong resemblance to a relative of mine. I was a touch disappointed because I didn't know this chick, whom will forever more be known as Celly-Felita because she is the manager at the cell phone spot where Randy works. Sidenote: I can never see myself partying with Skippy, my boss. So, anyways, Celly seems cool, but of course she is engaging in conversation with Randy, Kuntry and Mr. Mac, because she knows them and not me. So, I sit on the couch gingerly (because I am unconvinced that the couch has gone getting-butt-free ew!!) and continue watching the Top Model marathon that I had begun watching at home while Mr. Mac engaged in his cleansing routine (he showers forever, ya'll. And seriously, how much baby oil is needed in a 2-person household? But, he is very well moisturized and I love him for it. No scratchy soles rubbing against my legs at night, no sir). So, I sit, watch, and text one of my bitches. Because your bitches make the world a better place, even as you sit lonely and hungry in THOGB.
To my happiness, just as the battery died on my cell phone, the door opened and in came Kuntry Ashley. I have never been so happy to see a white chick (that wasn't Snow White, of course) in an all-black situation in my life. That girl is cool with me, ya'll. Cool with me.
So, K-Ash and I chilled, switched channels to VH1 and watched some Charm School when almost 45 minutes to an hour after Mr. mac and I had arrived, the bedroom door opens and out comes COS (remember the Chick-Of-The Season?). I looked at K-Ash like WTF, where this bitch been and how rude of her to not show her face until now, but whatever. COS, who admittedly has lasted waaay longer than I had hoped or anticipated, flops down on the loveseat like she bought it and being the good person/wife/friend that I am, attempt to include her in the conversation between K-Ash and myself.
COS is kind of a drag, very negative and somewhat humorless, but I try to forgive her for all of her faults and say to myself, ok, she must have something cool/good about her because Randy keeps her around. Right? Right?
Sidenote: I am SHOCKED, SHOCKED by Kuntry to find out that COS works WITH One L Randy and Celly because COS acts as if she has never met Celly, let alone works FOR her. I mean, seriously, COS didn't hardly say 2 words to her, but she did bitchface a whole lot to Celly. WTF is THAT about?
This is getting lengthy and I am actually quite bored talking about COS anyway, but let's just say, Mr. Mac and I BANTER (thanks for stealing my word, Kobe Bryant, you dick) in good fun about him not fixing me a burger, but placing one on the counter sans napkin and plate. Randy says some shit about "making your own plate", Mr. Mac and I get witty, but turns OUT, Randy wasn't even talking to us. Next thing I know COS does her now known for 'stomp, stomp, stomp, grab purse, slam door routine' and Randy does a sigh and goes after her.
Like, seriously? Again? Bitchcrazy.
The details are a bit fuzzy as to what had happened was, but Mr. Mac opens the door and we hear high pitched screaming and yelling as COS takes the no support/respect/sympathy I had for her anyway and shits on it. Because really, the shit is just rude (but makes for a hellavu story in the re-telling!). Blah, blah, blah (or to reference Seinfeld, "yadda, yadda, yadda"), scream scream, scream, come back inside, look like a dumb bitch as you make yourself a plate when you return. Because in my experience, no one can make themselves look as much like a dumb bitch better than you can, COS. How I love you, girl. Oh, COS, please don't ever learn.
Mr. Mac says, in her defense, that when he went outside, COS was making some good points to Randy. In my head, it really doesn't matter much because on the outside looking in, this is my impression of COS (not all are bad, mind you):
1. She is want to tantrums when she doesn't get her way (slamming doors? really? I am all for being an attention-whore, but baby there are other ways to do it. Get origal next time. Spice it up, please. If only for my enjoyment).
2. She doesn't respect her man (why else would she act a donkey in his house when his friends are over?).
3. She doesn't care what other people think of her (why else would she act a donkey in an atmosphere where everyone present is on the other person's home team? Trick, we don't even know your last name).
4. She likes drama (please don't ever change!).
5. She is insecure (I get the feeling she doesn't dig other females too tough).
6. She gives fire brain (and all that other sexy stuff to go along with it!).
7. She doesn't have a sense of humor (or maybe she does?? Maybe she acts a fool for me, in which case, I love you even more, COS).
Randy has to like 4 out of 7 of the qualities mentioned above, otherwise she wouldn't still be around. And if I am honest with myself and you, I will state that I like several of her qualities myself. I LOVE her drama. And since *I* can't bring the drama (because Mr. Mac is a crazy mofo, he would be able to outshine me, so I will NEVER try any bullshit for him to make ME look stupid in public -- unlike COS, I DO care what peeps think of me), am all for watching it play out.
My thoughts:
I think Randy needs to keep her around a while longer. And not just for the fire brain. The drama is something we all can enjoy. COS, I love your batshitcrazy antics.
COS - N - Randy 4EVA!
Enter Randal 'Don't Call Me Randy' stage right. He is always down for people to come to the scene (except when he is all emo-angsty) and actually throws a pretty good shin-dig. And if nothing else, it will predictably give me a good story to blog about the next day.
Oh, Randy. You have yet to fail me, my man.
So, Mr. Mac and I get over to the bachelor pad {grossly now known as the House of Gettin' Butt (THOGB)} to find Randy, Kuntry (a McCrazy Favorite, btw), and some chick I have never seen before that bears a strong resemblance to a relative of mine. I was a touch disappointed because I didn't know this chick, whom will forever more be known as Celly-Felita because she is the manager at the cell phone spot where Randy works. Sidenote: I can never see myself partying with Skippy, my boss. So, anyways, Celly seems cool, but of course she is engaging in conversation with Randy, Kuntry and Mr. Mac, because she knows them and not me. So, I sit on the couch gingerly (because I am unconvinced that the couch has gone getting-butt-free ew!!) and continue watching the Top Model marathon that I had begun watching at home while Mr. Mac engaged in his cleansing routine (he showers forever, ya'll. And seriously, how much baby oil is needed in a 2-person household? But, he is very well moisturized and I love him for it. No scratchy soles rubbing against my legs at night, no sir). So, I sit, watch, and text one of my bitches. Because your bitches make the world a better place, even as you sit lonely and hungry in THOGB.
To my happiness, just as the battery died on my cell phone, the door opened and in came Kuntry Ashley. I have never been so happy to see a white chick (that wasn't Snow White, of course) in an all-black situation in my life. That girl is cool with me, ya'll. Cool with me.
So, K-Ash and I chilled, switched channels to VH1 and watched some Charm School when almost 45 minutes to an hour after Mr. mac and I had arrived, the bedroom door opens and out comes COS (remember the Chick-Of-The Season?). I looked at K-Ash like WTF, where this bitch been and how rude of her to not show her face until now, but whatever. COS, who admittedly has lasted waaay longer than I had hoped or anticipated, flops down on the loveseat like she bought it and being the good person/wife/friend that I am, attempt to include her in the conversation between K-Ash and myself.
COS is kind of a drag, very negative and somewhat humorless, but I try to forgive her for all of her faults and say to myself, ok, she must have something cool/good about her because Randy keeps her around. Right? Right?
Sidenote: I am SHOCKED, SHOCKED by Kuntry to find out that COS works WITH One L Randy and Celly because COS acts as if she has never met Celly, let alone works FOR her. I mean, seriously, COS didn't hardly say 2 words to her, but she did bitchface a whole lot to Celly. WTF is THAT about?
This is getting lengthy and I am actually quite bored talking about COS anyway, but let's just say, Mr. Mac and I BANTER (thanks for stealing my word, Kobe Bryant, you dick) in good fun about him not fixing me a burger, but placing one on the counter sans napkin and plate. Randy says some shit about "making your own plate", Mr. Mac and I get witty, but turns OUT, Randy wasn't even talking to us. Next thing I know COS does her now known for 'stomp, stomp, stomp, grab purse, slam door routine' and Randy does a sigh and goes after her.
Like, seriously? Again? Bitchcrazy.
The details are a bit fuzzy as to what had happened was, but Mr. Mac opens the door and we hear high pitched screaming and yelling as COS takes the no support/respect/sympathy I had for her anyway and shits on it. Because really, the shit is just rude (but makes for a hellavu story in the re-telling!). Blah, blah, blah (or to reference Seinfeld, "yadda, yadda, yadda"), scream scream, scream, come back inside, look like a dumb bitch as you make yourself a plate when you return. Because in my experience, no one can make themselves look as much like a dumb bitch better than you can, COS. How I love you, girl. Oh, COS, please don't ever learn.
Mr. Mac says, in her defense, that when he went outside, COS was making some good points to Randy. In my head, it really doesn't matter much because on the outside looking in, this is my impression of COS (not all are bad, mind you):
1. She is want to tantrums when she doesn't get her way (slamming doors? really? I am all for being an attention-whore, but baby there are other ways to do it. Get origal next time. Spice it up, please. If only for my enjoyment).
2. She doesn't respect her man (why else would she act a donkey in his house when his friends are over?).
3. She doesn't care what other people think of her (why else would she act a donkey in an atmosphere where everyone present is on the other person's home team? Trick, we don't even know your last name).
4. She likes drama (please don't ever change!).
5. She is insecure (I get the feeling she doesn't dig other females too tough).
6. She gives fire brain (and all that other sexy stuff to go along with it!).
7. She doesn't have a sense of humor (or maybe she does?? Maybe she acts a fool for me, in which case, I love you even more, COS).
Randy has to like 4 out of 7 of the qualities mentioned above, otherwise she wouldn't still be around. And if I am honest with myself and you, I will state that I like several of her qualities myself. I LOVE her drama. And since *I* can't bring the drama (because Mr. Mac is a crazy mofo, he would be able to outshine me, so I will NEVER try any bullshit for him to make ME look stupid in public -- unlike COS, I DO care what peeps think of me), am all for watching it play out.
My thoughts:
I think Randy needs to keep her around a while longer. And not just for the fire brain. The drama is something we all can enjoy. COS, I love your batshitcrazy antics.
COS - N - Randy 4EVA!
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Damn, Cromwell
The Tudors finale aired tonight. Yeah, so, this season wasn't all that hot, which I expected it to not. You can't come back after Anne Boleyn.
Season 3 in summary:
King Henry married Jane Seymour, whom I suspect he really did love, knocked her up, had relations with some skank named Ursula, who was married (or something) and also having lots of illicit relations with some dude that was in Henry's court that wore an eye-patch all season and reminded me of Captain Hook.
Charles Brandon, THAT SEXXXY sonofabitch, is angsting because he is a good guy inside, but Cromwell, who is like, Henry's Lord Privy Seal (don't ask me what THAT means, other than HBIC, is all, "You got to kill all the people who revolted because they are treasonous traitors!" and Charles Brandon is all, "I don't want to kill the kids!" and Charles's wife is all, "I'm pregnant, you can't be killing other folks' babies!" and Charles is all, "I do what my King tells me to do!" And Charles's wife gets all angry and sees him as not the seXXXy beast that he is, but a murderer. And she loses the baby.
Queen Jane really is a nice chick and all pleasant, but really, who wants that? Anne, we need you! Haunt the castle! Jane gets Henry to bring his daughters back to court, and so we have back in the good clotheswear: The Princess Mary (formerly known as The Lady Mary, Bastard Child of Henry and his brother's wife Katherine of Aragon who was demoted from Queen to Dowager Princess of Wales when her marriage to Henry was declared null and void) and The Princess Elizabeth (formerly just that bastard born of that adulterous, treasonous, badass bitch Anne Boleyn while she was married to the King). Jane is sweet and good and kind and pure and blond. So, the bitch must die. History demands it. So, after giving birth to the King's precious male heir, she bites the dust, Princess Mary by her side. And Henry has a breakdown and locks himself in with his Fool. I totally thought it was a dream for the whole episode, but turned out, he really was locked in with his Fool.
It was muy weird, yo.
So, Jane is dead, Henry is crazy, and the French King and the Emperor are getting all buddy-buddy. So, Cromwell is ready to bitchslap Henry, "Wake up mutha luva! We gots a country to run!" because he sees that his whole Reformation is taking a nosedive to hell real quick. Because deep down, Henry was down for Catholicism. The ONLY reason he wanted to break from the church was because he had the hot crotch for Anne Boleyn (and who could blame him?) and the Pope was like, "You are already married, dawg, you can't marry your hoe, too, you ain't Brigham Young!" I know, wrong period, but you get my drift... Back to the subject. Cromwell is all, "Shit! What we gonna do? I'm taking all the treasures from the abbeys and persecuting the clergymen who aren't heretics on the downlow, but I am getting resistance, I need to find another bitch like Anne that is for the Reformation to get over here quick before all my hard work goes to hell."
So, everyone is all like, Henry is happiest when he has got some chick around with her legs open. We gots to find him a wife! Cause he needs another son in case something happens to the one Jane died having this morning. And so, the search is on for wife #4. We get a couple prospects, most notable, the one that appeared to be of Spanish descent that was like, "HELLLS NAW, I ain't marrying THAT mutha luva, didn't he banish his first wife, behead his second wife, and the third one died? No thank you, I like living the good life. But, thanks for stopping by. Don't let the door hit ya." Now, that's what I am talking about! I love smart bitches. She could kick it with my crew.
So, then Cromwell brings up these bitches in Cleves and scares the shit out of Henry by saying he has to marry one of the Cleves chicks because The French King and the Emperor are in cahoots and want to frick him up. The story had a bunch of holes and Charles Brandon was like, "Bullspit!" but decided that this was a good way for Cromwell to get screwed for being the selfish SOB that he is, so he was like, yeah, ok, I will play along with this.
So, ambassadors are sent to Cleves and no one is allowed to see ol' girl's face (um, red flag flying high, geniuses) and the painter is instructed (by Cromwell) to make her prettier than she looks, so Henry is like, "She aiiiight" and agrees to the marriage. Well, papers are signed and Henry is all anxious and horny because recall that his last two wives were all sexy and pleasing to him, so he rides out to see this chick. His words, "I like her not" and called her a horse. Damn, Joss Stone (who played Anne of Cleves). You ain't THAT bad.
But the papers are signed and Henry, disgusted, has to marry Anne of Cleves. Well, Charles Brandon is all, "Hey, dawg, guess what, Cromwell lied, ain't nobody trying to get us!" and Henry is like, "I had to marry this ugly horse-hoe for no reason?! I'm the King!" and so, he is like, "Cromwell, I didn't have sex with that ugly hoe, I have standards, get this marriage annulled." And Cromwell promptly craps his pants because the reason he picked Cleves was because she was a Lutheran and he needed the support of the German folks to help strengthen the Reformation, which is sliding down that slippery slope faster than that slut Anne Boleyn (love!) trying to steal the thrown from Katherine of Aragon.
Guess what, Cromwell? Everyone hates you.
So the Privy Council turn against him and find "proof" that he is a treasonous, traitorous heretic and he is sentenced to death. Oh, but first, he has to write a letter stating that his marriage to Anne of Cleves is invalid due to a pre-contract she had to marry some other dude and to also cosign that Henry didn't have the sex with her. Because he ain't into sexing the animals. With that matter taken care of, dispatch a Lord over to Anne of Cleves, ask her if she is cool with calling herself the King's sister and staying in England forever. If she is down with it, give her some land and money. If she disputes, measure her neck. Lucky for her, she didn't dispute. And the King showed her favor.
In the meantime, the King's homies (including Charles Brandon) are like, listen, the King ain't had the sex is forever, we gots to make this happen and soon. So, Captain Hook is like, if I can't no NOTHING else, I can find some skanky bitches. And do. Enter Katherine Howard, to be later known as Wife #5. She is super young, like still a teen, blond, and slutty. Fit for a King!
Sidenote: Personally, I think the chick playing Katherine Howard is ugly as sin, her eyes are soooo far apart. I think she looks more horsey than Joss Stone, BUT, when I Google'd her I found that she and I share a birthday (she born many years after me, mind you), so she gets a leeeetle slack. But man. Neigh.
Hoe for the King? Check.
Cromwell fecked? Check.
Queen taken care of? Check.
But, man, Cromwell, we REALLY hate you, so we gots to do better than just kill you.
Hmm... I know!!!
Captain Hook loads up the executioner with all types of drugs and booze so he is pretty much incoherent when it comes time to chop off Cromwell's head. Now, normally, I turn away when they do the executions on The Tudors (even though all they usually show is blood spatter), but the way this dude had to drunkenly keep hacking at this dude was just ... something I couldn't turn from.
That mess was just so.. wrong.
I mean, DAMN.
And the crowd was all, "KILL HIM!" and "Shut UP!" and "Get it over with already!" when Cromwell was saying his final plea.
No one liked you, Cromwell. But your head rolling was not near as awesome as the Anne season. Eh...
If my memory serves me well, Horse-Head Howard will be losing her head next season. Is it Spring 2010 yet?
Season 3 in summary:
King Henry married Jane Seymour, whom I suspect he really did love, knocked her up, had relations with some skank named Ursula, who was married (or something) and also having lots of illicit relations with some dude that was in Henry's court that wore an eye-patch all season and reminded me of Captain Hook.
Charles Brandon, THAT SEXXXY sonofabitch, is angsting because he is a good guy inside, but Cromwell, who is like, Henry's Lord Privy Seal (don't ask me what THAT means, other than HBIC, is all, "You got to kill all the people who revolted because they are treasonous traitors!" and Charles Brandon is all, "I don't want to kill the kids!" and Charles's wife is all, "I'm pregnant, you can't be killing other folks' babies!" and Charles is all, "I do what my King tells me to do!" And Charles's wife gets all angry and sees him as not the seXXXy beast that he is, but a murderer. And she loses the baby.
Queen Jane really is a nice chick and all pleasant, but really, who wants that? Anne, we need you! Haunt the castle! Jane gets Henry to bring his daughters back to court, and so we have back in the good clotheswear: The Princess Mary (formerly known as The Lady Mary, Bastard Child of Henry and his brother's wife Katherine of Aragon who was demoted from Queen to Dowager Princess of Wales when her marriage to Henry was declared null and void) and The Princess Elizabeth (formerly just that bastard born of that adulterous, treasonous, badass bitch Anne Boleyn while she was married to the King). Jane is sweet and good and kind and pure and blond. So, the bitch must die. History demands it. So, after giving birth to the King's precious male heir, she bites the dust, Princess Mary by her side. And Henry has a breakdown and locks himself in with his Fool. I totally thought it was a dream for the whole episode, but turned out, he really was locked in with his Fool.
It was muy weird, yo.
So, Jane is dead, Henry is crazy, and the French King and the Emperor are getting all buddy-buddy. So, Cromwell is ready to bitchslap Henry, "Wake up mutha luva! We gots a country to run!" because he sees that his whole Reformation is taking a nosedive to hell real quick. Because deep down, Henry was down for Catholicism. The ONLY reason he wanted to break from the church was because he had the hot crotch for Anne Boleyn (and who could blame him?) and the Pope was like, "You are already married, dawg, you can't marry your hoe, too, you ain't Brigham Young!" I know, wrong period, but you get my drift... Back to the subject. Cromwell is all, "Shit! What we gonna do? I'm taking all the treasures from the abbeys and persecuting the clergymen who aren't heretics on the downlow, but I am getting resistance, I need to find another bitch like Anne that is for the Reformation to get over here quick before all my hard work goes to hell."
So, everyone is all like, Henry is happiest when he has got some chick around with her legs open. We gots to find him a wife! Cause he needs another son in case something happens to the one Jane died having this morning. And so, the search is on for wife #4. We get a couple prospects, most notable, the one that appeared to be of Spanish descent that was like, "HELLLS NAW, I ain't marrying THAT mutha luva, didn't he banish his first wife, behead his second wife, and the third one died? No thank you, I like living the good life. But, thanks for stopping by. Don't let the door hit ya." Now, that's what I am talking about! I love smart bitches. She could kick it with my crew.
So, then Cromwell brings up these bitches in Cleves and scares the shit out of Henry by saying he has to marry one of the Cleves chicks because The French King and the Emperor are in cahoots and want to frick him up. The story had a bunch of holes and Charles Brandon was like, "Bullspit!" but decided that this was a good way for Cromwell to get screwed for being the selfish SOB that he is, so he was like, yeah, ok, I will play along with this.
So, ambassadors are sent to Cleves and no one is allowed to see ol' girl's face (um, red flag flying high, geniuses) and the painter is instructed (by Cromwell) to make her prettier than she looks, so Henry is like, "She aiiiight" and agrees to the marriage. Well, papers are signed and Henry is all anxious and horny because recall that his last two wives were all sexy and pleasing to him, so he rides out to see this chick. His words, "I like her not" and called her a horse. Damn, Joss Stone (who played Anne of Cleves). You ain't THAT bad.
But the papers are signed and Henry, disgusted, has to marry Anne of Cleves. Well, Charles Brandon is all, "Hey, dawg, guess what, Cromwell lied, ain't nobody trying to get us!" and Henry is like, "I had to marry this ugly horse-hoe for no reason?! I'm the King!" and so, he is like, "Cromwell, I didn't have sex with that ugly hoe, I have standards, get this marriage annulled." And Cromwell promptly craps his pants because the reason he picked Cleves was because she was a Lutheran and he needed the support of the German folks to help strengthen the Reformation, which is sliding down that slippery slope faster than that slut Anne Boleyn (love!) trying to steal the thrown from Katherine of Aragon.
Guess what, Cromwell? Everyone hates you.
So the Privy Council turn against him and find "proof" that he is a treasonous, traitorous heretic and he is sentenced to death. Oh, but first, he has to write a letter stating that his marriage to Anne of Cleves is invalid due to a pre-contract she had to marry some other dude and to also cosign that Henry didn't have the sex with her. Because he ain't into sexing the animals. With that matter taken care of, dispatch a Lord over to Anne of Cleves, ask her if she is cool with calling herself the King's sister and staying in England forever. If she is down with it, give her some land and money. If she disputes, measure her neck. Lucky for her, she didn't dispute. And the King showed her favor.
In the meantime, the King's homies (including Charles Brandon) are like, listen, the King ain't had the sex is forever, we gots to make this happen and soon. So, Captain Hook is like, if I can't no NOTHING else, I can find some skanky bitches. And do. Enter Katherine Howard, to be later known as Wife #5. She is super young, like still a teen, blond, and slutty. Fit for a King!
Sidenote: Personally, I think the chick playing Katherine Howard is ugly as sin, her eyes are soooo far apart. I think she looks more horsey than Joss Stone, BUT, when I Google'd her I found that she and I share a birthday (she born many years after me, mind you), so she gets a leeeetle slack. But man. Neigh.
Hoe for the King? Check.
Cromwell fecked? Check.
Queen taken care of? Check.
But, man, Cromwell, we REALLY hate you, so we gots to do better than just kill you.
Hmm... I know!!!
Captain Hook loads up the executioner with all types of drugs and booze so he is pretty much incoherent when it comes time to chop off Cromwell's head. Now, normally, I turn away when they do the executions on The Tudors (even though all they usually show is blood spatter), but the way this dude had to drunkenly keep hacking at this dude was just ... something I couldn't turn from.
That mess was just so.. wrong.
I mean, DAMN.
And the crowd was all, "KILL HIM!" and "Shut UP!" and "Get it over with already!" when Cromwell was saying his final plea.
No one liked you, Cromwell. But your head rolling was not near as awesome as the Anne season. Eh...
If my memory serves me well, Horse-Head Howard will be losing her head next season. Is it Spring 2010 yet?
Saturday, May 23, 2009
What a Dick
Mr. Mc freakin' loves Kobe Bryant, but I cannot stand his azz. Some reporters asked him about the awesome amazing game-winning buzzer shot Lebron made last night and Kobe's bitchass response:
Bryant was incredulous when a reporter asked him if his performance on Saturday was a response to LeBron James, who snatched away the league's most valuable player award this season and needed just one second to make a game-winning three-pointer in Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals on Friday. "Are you serious?" Bryant asked. "Honestly, I told him it was a helluva shot. Everybody tries to make it out like this big thing, but we're all friends. And he does what he does in Cleveland. I do what I do here. But it's good banter."
I wish I could find a video. Because written, it doesn't sound so bad. But, in reality, the way he said it was extremely ass-holey. Like, he was in disbelief that someone would have the audacity to bring up someone OTHER THAN HIM having a stellar performance.
Loser.
Laker Splitter - Upper.
Jerk.
He is a good basketball player, though. Ugh. I hate that he is such a dick because I am REALLY anti-Carmelo Anthony (boo-hiss!) and ONE of them will be going to the NBA finals and I don't know which one of them is the lesser of two evils?
I WILL say I love the puppet commercials with him and LeBron. Because LeBron is made of win. Except when he loses.
Bryant was incredulous when a reporter asked him if his performance on Saturday was a response to LeBron James, who snatched away the league's most valuable player award this season and needed just one second to make a game-winning three-pointer in Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals on Friday. "Are you serious?" Bryant asked. "Honestly, I told him it was a helluva shot. Everybody tries to make it out like this big thing, but we're all friends. And he does what he does in Cleveland. I do what I do here. But it's good banter."
I wish I could find a video. Because written, it doesn't sound so bad. But, in reality, the way he said it was extremely ass-holey. Like, he was in disbelief that someone would have the audacity to bring up someone OTHER THAN HIM having a stellar performance.
Loser.
Laker Splitter - Upper.
Jerk.
He is a good basketball player, though. Ugh. I hate that he is such a dick because I am REALLY anti-Carmelo Anthony (boo-hiss!) and ONE of them will be going to the NBA finals and I don't know which one of them is the lesser of two evils?
I WILL say I love the puppet commercials with him and LeBron. Because LeBron is made of win. Except when he loses.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Mr. Mac Says God must be a Cavs Fan
I'm not really a B-Ball Fan, but Mr. Mac is and I have resigned myself to the fact (after spending my honeymoon watching the NBA finals last year and agreeing to the purchase of the NBA League Pass AND Season Tickets to the Atlanta Hawks) that we are an NBA family. Such is life.
Even I can admit however that THIS WAS INCREDIBLE. I got goosebumps. Wow.
Even I can admit however that THIS WAS INCREDIBLE. I got goosebumps. Wow.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Stop Snitching
Our neighbor to the North, the chick with the Honda Accord who CLAIMS she is a doctor, is a snitch. She reported Mr. Mac to the apartment complex for grilling less than 15 feet away from the building.
Now, granted, Mr. Mac and I know the rules, however, we feel that they are stupid and thus act out in a state of rebellion. As you do when rules are stupid. If we felt that we were endangering the lives of ourselves and others, we would not engage in the behavior, at least, I wouldn't because I have this thing about fires anyway especially since I started watching this season of The Tudors because they have burned a lot of people at the stake and it is so disturbing that I always have to switch the channel once they light the lumber at the bottom of the stake. I mean, can you imagine? Being tied to other folks and burning alive? What I find equally disconcerting is the fact that there are ALWAYS crowds of people there to witness whenever they carry out these death sentences. Yuck. What type of person can watch someone burn to death or someone's head getting chopped off? Gross.
ANYWAYS, the point is that fricking North , the "alleged" doctor told on us and the grill and Mr. Mac and I decided we are are too lazy to carry the barrel grill from the balcony, through the apartment and 15 feet away from the building THIS week, so our Memorial Weekend cookout is canceled.
Never fret though because we will retaliate. We are nothing if not passive aggressive. No matter how just or unjust that note was that the Grand left in our door last night. We have decided that we WILL grill again, 15 feet from the building, which is conveniently on the sidewalk that everyone will have to walk on to get to their apartment (we measured) on a weekend where this will only prove to be a pain in the ass to HER (like, when she has some guests for the weekend). We will clear this with our neighbor to the South (who also cannot stand her. Coincidentally, I can't stand the neighbor to the South, but Mr. Mac has an "understanding" with him and they get along just fine. I don't really have any issue with our neighbor to the North - the alleged doctor -- however, Mr. Mac does, and unlike him, who engages in conversation with the punk to the South, I know my loyalty lies with him so I am against the North as well).
When we do host this cookout, I intend to wear a Stop Snitching t-shirt and post up on the stairs.
This all started last year, when Mr. Mac grilled (I wasn't at home - probably was in Florence with my bitches - shout out to my bitches!!!!) and North came downstairs and was like, "My clothes are drying on the balcony and the smoke from your grill is seeping into my clothes" and Mr. Mac was all, "Whatever." Personally, I think if I was there, it could have gone 2 ways depending on Sybil's presence or absence.
Sybil present: You have a dryer connection.
Sybil absent: Girl, our bad, you want a piece of chicken?
I think if Mr. Mac had shared the food with her, North may have taken the situation better. But, noes. She also came down a couple Saturday mornings to complain to him about playing music too loudly. I wasn't there on any of those occasions then, either (at the gym). The first time Mr. Mac was like, oh, ok. The 2nd time, Mr. Mac wasn't playing any music and he was like, "I'm not playing any music!" and so she had to travel further South. And thus began her tumultuous relationship with THAT motha lover. Because he KNOWS that he plays Keith Sweat, R. Kelly and lately Michael Jackson (WTF?) at all hours so that he can seduce the harem of hoes he has coming in and out of his apartment.
Seriously, South? The Man in the Mirror is NOT a sexy CD.
I think North needs one or both of the following:
1. Some dick in her life.
2. A house.
Actually, I think all women need one or both of those.
Now, granted, Mr. Mac and I know the rules, however, we feel that they are stupid and thus act out in a state of rebellion. As you do when rules are stupid. If we felt that we were endangering the lives of ourselves and others, we would not engage in the behavior, at least, I wouldn't because I have this thing about fires anyway especially since I started watching this season of The Tudors because they have burned a lot of people at the stake and it is so disturbing that I always have to switch the channel once they light the lumber at the bottom of the stake. I mean, can you imagine? Being tied to other folks and burning alive? What I find equally disconcerting is the fact that there are ALWAYS crowds of people there to witness whenever they carry out these death sentences. Yuck. What type of person can watch someone burn to death or someone's head getting chopped off? Gross.
ANYWAYS, the point is that fricking North , the "alleged" doctor told on us and the grill and Mr. Mac and I decided we are are too lazy to carry the barrel grill from the balcony, through the apartment and 15 feet away from the building THIS week, so our Memorial Weekend cookout is canceled.
Never fret though because we will retaliate. We are nothing if not passive aggressive. No matter how just or unjust that note was that the Grand left in our door last night. We have decided that we WILL grill again, 15 feet from the building, which is conveniently on the sidewalk that everyone will have to walk on to get to their apartment (we measured) on a weekend where this will only prove to be a pain in the ass to HER (like, when she has some guests for the weekend). We will clear this with our neighbor to the South (who also cannot stand her. Coincidentally, I can't stand the neighbor to the South, but Mr. Mac has an "understanding" with him and they get along just fine. I don't really have any issue with our neighbor to the North - the alleged doctor -- however, Mr. Mac does, and unlike him, who engages in conversation with the punk to the South, I know my loyalty lies with him so I am against the North as well).
When we do host this cookout, I intend to wear a Stop Snitching t-shirt and post up on the stairs.
This all started last year, when Mr. Mac grilled (I wasn't at home - probably was in Florence with my bitches - shout out to my bitches!!!!) and North came downstairs and was like, "My clothes are drying on the balcony and the smoke from your grill is seeping into my clothes" and Mr. Mac was all, "Whatever." Personally, I think if I was there, it could have gone 2 ways depending on Sybil's presence or absence.
Sybil present: You have a dryer connection.
Sybil absent: Girl, our bad, you want a piece of chicken?
I think if Mr. Mac had shared the food with her, North may have taken the situation better. But, noes. She also came down a couple Saturday mornings to complain to him about playing music too loudly. I wasn't there on any of those occasions then, either (at the gym). The first time Mr. Mac was like, oh, ok. The 2nd time, Mr. Mac wasn't playing any music and he was like, "I'm not playing any music!" and so she had to travel further South. And thus began her tumultuous relationship with THAT motha lover. Because he KNOWS that he plays Keith Sweat, R. Kelly and lately Michael Jackson (WTF?) at all hours so that he can seduce the harem of hoes he has coming in and out of his apartment.
Seriously, South? The Man in the Mirror is NOT a sexy CD.
I think North needs one or both of the following:
1. Some dick in her life.
2. A house.
Actually, I think all women need one or both of those.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Randy Gets Butt
Randal "With one L, thank you" is Mr. McCrazy's best friend. I never expected to love him, but ugh, it happened. Not in the LMN-let's kill Mr. McCrazy so we can be together and live off the insurance money-way. Yuck. Thinking of One L Randy in a sexual way honestly makes me throw up in my mouth a little. Because I really have come to think of him as a brother. Almost to the level of G, my biological brother, but not quite. Because G put in some years, yo.
But, anywho, Randy was over here the other night and I decided to banter with him and Mr. McCrazy for a little bit, at least until The Tudors came on which was going to be soon, but I figured I could spare 15 minutes prior to the premiere. Speaking of the Tudors, I love how they are trying to be realistic and make Henry progresssively unsexy. He was a feckin MACHINE in season 1. Then Anne turned him out and he decided to cut her head off. That show is feckin awesome because it is based on real events. And again, not in the lame LMN kind of way. The Tudors are Made.Of.Win.
So, back to McCrazyland. When I walked into the dining room, Mr. Mc and Randy were chatting about hoes. As they do. Randy is a catch... or something. No, he is... I guess. I try to be in denial, but, like, one of my girfriends (yeah, I will say it - Krys) fell prey around wedding-time and they became lovers. Lovers sounds so Harlequin Romance-y. So, I will use a Marlon term and call them cut buddies. Because that sounds more like what it was. Krys fell prey to Randy and it was good times had by the two of them. Or maybe he fell prey to my friend? They fell prey to each other. Mr. Mc was all, "HELLS NO!" because he felt it was a little too Pam and Tommy for his taste and was afraid it would end up putting a wedge of awkwardness in our friendships. I don't know my take on that, but I will say that this one time it did put a wedge of bitchassness in our relationship when Randy went all emo over New Year's and kicked us out of his apartment when his chick-of-the-season (COS) got a little (justifiably) pissed because Randy was flirting with Krys (and K was looking extra cute that night, I must say) and not spending time with her-- COS. By the way, that chick had some HUGE knockers. She seemed pretty cool, too. I really ain't mad at her getting pissed. I would have been pissed, too. But she kind of made, like, a scene, stormed out slamming doors, but then she lost all cred with me because she came back. Dude, after you do a "I said good day!" you got to be consistent.
Don't came back 2 hours later for the late sex. So, instead of being my SHE-ro for being all gangsta, she is whack and being blogged about.
And we're back. Randy says something about various chicks and I said, "Yuck!" because its gross to think of him having the sex. And he said, "What's 'yuck'? Because I get butt?"
And I laughed myself all the way back to the bedroom so I could watch the Tudors. "Get Butt" is hilarious to me. Because I am juvenile and easily amused.
By the way, The Tudors kind of disappointed me. There was no 'getting butt'. Charles Brandon is still sexy as ever though. Niiice. Henry's got the ulcer on his leg now. YUCK. And they got a new Jane Seymour. She is soooo not the same one from last season when Anne was all, "Get this bitch out of my court!" and Henry was all, "Bitchcrazy, she bout to get your job cause you won't give me no sons!" and Anne was all, "You made me lose our son cause you got hoes on your ass and it pisses me off!" and Henry was all, "You talk too much, you are getting on my feckin nerves, I think you are a witch, I am cutting off your feckin head!" and Anne was all, "I didn't feck my brother! And, my neck is little!" Season 2 was the shiz. I don't see how the show can get any better. We will see what happens this week.
But, anywho, Randy was over here the other night and I decided to banter with him and Mr. McCrazy for a little bit, at least until The Tudors came on which was going to be soon, but I figured I could spare 15 minutes prior to the premiere. Speaking of the Tudors, I love how they are trying to be realistic and make Henry progresssively unsexy. He was a feckin MACHINE in season 1. Then Anne turned him out and he decided to cut her head off. That show is feckin awesome because it is based on real events. And again, not in the lame LMN kind of way. The Tudors are Made.Of.Win.
So, back to McCrazyland. When I walked into the dining room, Mr. Mc and Randy were chatting about hoes. As they do. Randy is a catch... or something. No, he is... I guess. I try to be in denial, but, like, one of my girfriends (yeah, I will say it - Krys) fell prey around wedding-time and they became lovers. Lovers sounds so Harlequin Romance-y. So, I will use a Marlon term and call them cut buddies. Because that sounds more like what it was. Krys fell prey to Randy and it was good times had by the two of them. Or maybe he fell prey to my friend? They fell prey to each other. Mr. Mc was all, "HELLS NO!" because he felt it was a little too Pam and Tommy for his taste and was afraid it would end up putting a wedge of awkwardness in our friendships. I don't know my take on that, but I will say that this one time it did put a wedge of bitchassness in our relationship when Randy went all emo over New Year's and kicked us out of his apartment when his chick-of-the-season (COS) got a little (justifiably) pissed because Randy was flirting with Krys (and K was looking extra cute that night, I must say) and not spending time with her-- COS. By the way, that chick had some HUGE knockers. She seemed pretty cool, too. I really ain't mad at her getting pissed. I would have been pissed, too. But she kind of made, like, a scene, stormed out slamming doors, but then she lost all cred with me because she came back. Dude, after you do a "I said good day!" you got to be consistent.
Don't came back 2 hours later for the late sex. So, instead of being my SHE-ro for being all gangsta, she is whack and being blogged about.
And we're back. Randy says something about various chicks and I said, "Yuck!" because its gross to think of him having the sex. And he said, "What's 'yuck'? Because I get butt?"
And I laughed myself all the way back to the bedroom so I could watch the Tudors. "Get Butt" is hilarious to me. Because I am juvenile and easily amused.
By the way, The Tudors kind of disappointed me. There was no 'getting butt'. Charles Brandon is still sexy as ever though. Niiice. Henry's got the ulcer on his leg now. YUCK. And they got a new Jane Seymour. She is soooo not the same one from last season when Anne was all, "Get this bitch out of my court!" and Henry was all, "Bitchcrazy, she bout to get your job cause you won't give me no sons!" and Anne was all, "You made me lose our son cause you got hoes on your ass and it pisses me off!" and Henry was all, "You talk too much, you are getting on my feckin nerves, I think you are a witch, I am cutting off your feckin head!" and Anne was all, "I didn't feck my brother! And, my neck is little!" Season 2 was the shiz. I don't see how the show can get any better. We will see what happens this week.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
are you there, God? it's me, McCrazy
So, interesting turn of events last week. My girls were coming to town to celebrate my birthday, which actually occurred a few weeks ago, natch, but one of my relatives passed away, so I needed to go back to my hometown to attend the funeral. The whole cousin passing thing is really tragic and sad particularly because it happened unexpectedly (heart attack), she was young (37) and had 3 kids (ages 10, 6, and 3 months). Even though she was a relatively close cousin by Southern Black people standards (3rd cousin, my grandad's brother's granddaughter), I hadn't seen her in about 20 years and really didn't "know" her, but I did remember her being nice to me and having a really pretty smile.
So, I went home instead. My girlfriends, uh, let's call them Krystle and, um, K-Risty, for the purpose of this story, and I rode up the highway to my hometown. We decided we could "celebrate" the whole birthday thing when we got to town and then Saturday, I would spend the day in solemnity with my family. Right? Right.
So, off trucking we go, cake in back of the good ol' Pontiac with me (and of course, I ended up leaning on it, pretty much ruining one side), ending the journey at this Mexican restuarant that apparently only opens for business when we come to town and specifically for us because they are almost always completely empty AND out of all of the tables in the entire restaurant, we always end up sitting at the same one. Which is cool with me, whatever. They have a good health rating and they put top shelf alcohol in their margaritas and only charge for the regular house crap, so, they are alright with McCrazy. Two thumbs up. Our other two homegirls, um, let's call them D. Woods and Cold Blooded Tiff show up, nachos appear on the table, the drinks arrive and rainbows and butterflies fill the room. All is good until the freaks come out and put a sombrero on my head and a Mexican Flag in my face, telling me to suck and do it fast.
Yeah, I felt plenty violated...
Afterwards, I was also highly intoxicated (because I would say I drank over 1/2 of the pitcher of margarita, in addition to the flaming flag). I put my sunglasses on and off we went to stop #2, this bar "across the water" called DPs where I run into this guy from my dad's Sunday school class every time we go, which makes me wonder, is it simply a coincidence, since I am not in town all that often, or is it more like this guy goes to the bar every weekend? Things that make you go, hmmm....
Anywho, so we're getting out of the car when, cool sunglasses wearing drunken mccrazy finds her finger somehow not completely out of the car, and yet, the door is strangely closed and the rest of me is standing in the parking lot. I lift up the door handle. Locked. Drunken mccrazy is starting to realize that her fricking finger is in this shut car door and calmy says, "D. Woods, unlock the door. Unlock the door, D. D, unlook the door." Because my buzz was completely gone. No more drunken mccrazy. D.Woods says, "What?" K-Risty looks down, sees my finger lodged in this door as I frantically try to wiggle it out and says, "Open the door!"
D. Woods, "It's unlocked!" And because K-risty is always the one right next to me when I am in the midst of a crisis situation, which is pretty dang awesome now that I think about it, she screams, "No, it's not! Unlock the door!" and then, I was rescued. As soon as I retried my finger though, I thought I was going to throw up. I didn't. Talk about a buzzkill.
So, we go inside, my holding my injured finger, my so-called "friends" laughing their arses off "How do you slam your OWN finger in a door?", the margarita/mexican flag effects completely worn off. And who do we see, but Mr. Sunday School. How unsurprising. Krystle went and got me a glass of ice from the bar to soothe my wounds and some freak in a can redneck man came over to us at this pub table, learned of my injury, and had the nerve to cover my finger by cupping his two hands over it, closing his hands in the process.
Excuse me, Freaky Redneck Man, but WTF are you doing? Reeking, REEKING of alcohol, he responds, "Healing."
Come again?
So, the Freaky Redneck Man is a "healer", is he? He asked if it felt better after he was done and
just so he would get the hell away from me, I was like, "Yep," and he says, I shit you not, LOUDLY, "Git-R-DUNNNNN!"
Wow. So. Yeah.
We moved to the bar.
We noticed this, um, interesting-looking couple at the end. This 'hood, 'hood, beyond 'hood, black (HBHBC) chick with an OBVIOUSLY gay white dude (GWD). We were JUST getting into our, um, "review" of this couple when suddenly GWD says, "McCrazy McCrazy!"
Wow. So, I know this GWD. I take a closer look. OMG. Not only do I know this dude, BUT, he is the first guy that wasn't a member of my family to ever be alone with me in my bedroom with the door closed. His dad lived across the street from my house when we were growing up. I was, like, maybe, 11, and he came into my house and we went to my room to play and McDad was like, "McCrazy, open that door!" and I was all, "But, McDad, its just future GWD, I mean, come on." Cause GWD Tyler was, even at the age of 11, going to end up being a GWD, whether his parents wanted to take note yet or not. COME ON. We were probably in there playing Barbies. McDad, though, doesn't believe in boys in the room with the door closed. Matter of fact, when Mr. Mc and I were engaged, I would get in trouble if we were SITTING on the guest room bed at the same time. And no, sitting is not a euphemism for anything.
But, back to the bar. I was tripping out at seeing Tyler and asked the same question you ask anyone you haven't seen for a while, "How are you doing?"
His answer? "Well, I've got a little drinking problem, led to about 3 DWIs, my license is suspended, I don't have a job and my underage boyfriend dumped me."
Well, how the hell do you respond to that? I mean, seriously, the question I asked him is supposed to come with the obligatory "Great, thanks, how are you?" answer, in which you say, "Super, me, too!".
But, damn my luck and throbbing finger, I asked this question to a self-confessed alcoholic pedophile as he sits drunk in a bar, probably breaking all types of probation decrees. Wow, just wow.
I told him that I hoped he didn't leave anywhere near the time we left the bar. DWIs and all. Perhaps that wasn't sensitive enough? Krystle, as she do, was entranced by the conversation, leaned over the bar and felt the need to have him elaborate on his previous statement. "So," she begins, "how old was the boy?"
Tyler responds, "Oh, he wasn't underage, it was a joke gone bad!" Um, yeah, we believe THAT, perv. To which I sa to him, "Liar. How old was he?" GWD, "19." And then HBHBC speaks for the first time, never once taking her eyes away from the electronic slot machine in front of her, popping probably the most ridiculously large piece of gum in the history of chewing, " 14." and Tyler snickers and denies it.
Well, don't THAT beat all? Wow. Yuck. Now, I really, really wanted to beliee that the HBHBC was saying this fo kicks, but the chick never one took her eyes away from the screen. She said this shit as matter of factly as if I had asked her the time. So, I decided to roll with what she said instead of Tyler, an alcoholic who was steadily throwing back glasses of Jim Beam.
Speaking of Jim Beam, Tyler decides to change the subject and offers us all a shot, but says, "Oh, but I'm not buying or anything." Umkay...
The rest of the the night proved to be even more incredibly awkward. Among the highlights:
* Tyker declared that his father pays all of his bills (GWD has his own apartment with all of the frills, bells and whistles) and that he is entitled to these things because his father has been married 4 times and his mother has been married 6 times and thus, ruined his life.
* Tyler's mom is a whore. His words, not mine.
* Freak in a Can Redneck Man came over and told an incoherent "joke" about a homosexual chicken that wore underwear and said, 'cock-a-doodle-doo' all the time and also said "Git-R-Done!" I think he meant the chicken ?
*When K-Risty and I stated that our parents were giving us the shaft, not paying our bills, Tyler said, in a sneering voice that they were, "Trying to make us 'better'." Like it was a bad thing. Awesome.
*My girlfriends and I ran into my ex-boyfriend at a gas station and laughed at him for a while (because we're bitches). Ha.
*I drunk dialed Mr. McCrazy at 5am because my finger was throbbing so bad, I thought I was dying. Like Natasha Richardson. Because you know, they said that she pretty much died for no reason. That she didn't hit anything - she just fell, was fine, then 2 hours later she was knocking on death's door so hard she broke the dang thing down. And I was scared that, like, blood was getting into my finger bone and I was going to die. Right there in the bed with Krystle. So, I needed my husband, who never sleeps anyway, to Google what was happening to me. It hurt like, um, imagine, um, I can't even tell you. Just don't ever do it. At least the bed was soft. The mattress was the softest I have ever slept on. And, yeah.
The next day Dad laughed at me and suggested that maybe if I wasn't drunk it wouldn't have happened. Dude...
I still am kinda pissed that the unemployed alcoholic pedophile has an iPhone. Where is the feckin justice?
So, I went home instead. My girlfriends, uh, let's call them Krystle and, um, K-Risty, for the purpose of this story, and I rode up the highway to my hometown. We decided we could "celebrate" the whole birthday thing when we got to town and then Saturday, I would spend the day in solemnity with my family. Right? Right.
So, off trucking we go, cake in back of the good ol' Pontiac with me (and of course, I ended up leaning on it, pretty much ruining one side), ending the journey at this Mexican restuarant that apparently only opens for business when we come to town and specifically for us because they are almost always completely empty AND out of all of the tables in the entire restaurant, we always end up sitting at the same one. Which is cool with me, whatever. They have a good health rating and they put top shelf alcohol in their margaritas and only charge for the regular house crap, so, they are alright with McCrazy. Two thumbs up. Our other two homegirls, um, let's call them D. Woods and Cold Blooded Tiff show up, nachos appear on the table, the drinks arrive and rainbows and butterflies fill the room. All is good until the freaks come out and put a sombrero on my head and a Mexican Flag in my face, telling me to suck and do it fast.
Yeah, I felt plenty violated...
Afterwards, I was also highly intoxicated (because I would say I drank over 1/2 of the pitcher of margarita, in addition to the flaming flag). I put my sunglasses on and off we went to stop #2, this bar "across the water" called DPs where I run into this guy from my dad's Sunday school class every time we go, which makes me wonder, is it simply a coincidence, since I am not in town all that often, or is it more like this guy goes to the bar every weekend? Things that make you go, hmmm....
Anywho, so we're getting out of the car when, cool sunglasses wearing drunken mccrazy finds her finger somehow not completely out of the car, and yet, the door is strangely closed and the rest of me is standing in the parking lot. I lift up the door handle. Locked. Drunken mccrazy is starting to realize that her fricking finger is in this shut car door and calmy says, "D. Woods, unlock the door. Unlock the door, D. D, unlook the door." Because my buzz was completely gone. No more drunken mccrazy. D.Woods says, "What?" K-Risty looks down, sees my finger lodged in this door as I frantically try to wiggle it out and says, "Open the door!"
D. Woods, "It's unlocked!" And because K-risty is always the one right next to me when I am in the midst of a crisis situation, which is pretty dang awesome now that I think about it, she screams, "No, it's not! Unlock the door!" and then, I was rescued. As soon as I retried my finger though, I thought I was going to throw up. I didn't. Talk about a buzzkill.
So, we go inside, my holding my injured finger, my so-called "friends" laughing their arses off "How do you slam your OWN finger in a door?", the margarita/mexican flag effects completely worn off. And who do we see, but Mr. Sunday School. How unsurprising. Krystle went and got me a glass of ice from the bar to soothe my wounds and some freak in a can redneck man came over to us at this pub table, learned of my injury, and had the nerve to cover my finger by cupping his two hands over it, closing his hands in the process.
Excuse me, Freaky Redneck Man, but WTF are you doing? Reeking, REEKING of alcohol, he responds, "Healing."
Come again?
So, the Freaky Redneck Man is a "healer", is he? He asked if it felt better after he was done and
just so he would get the hell away from me, I was like, "Yep," and he says, I shit you not, LOUDLY, "Git-R-DUNNNNN!"
Wow. So. Yeah.
We moved to the bar.
We noticed this, um, interesting-looking couple at the end. This 'hood, 'hood, beyond 'hood, black (HBHBC) chick with an OBVIOUSLY gay white dude (GWD). We were JUST getting into our, um, "review" of this couple when suddenly GWD says, "McCrazy McCrazy!"
Wow. So, I know this GWD. I take a closer look. OMG. Not only do I know this dude, BUT, he is the first guy that wasn't a member of my family to ever be alone with me in my bedroom with the door closed. His dad lived across the street from my house when we were growing up. I was, like, maybe, 11, and he came into my house and we went to my room to play and McDad was like, "McCrazy, open that door!" and I was all, "But, McDad, its just future GWD, I mean, come on." Cause GWD Tyler was, even at the age of 11, going to end up being a GWD, whether his parents wanted to take note yet or not. COME ON. We were probably in there playing Barbies. McDad, though, doesn't believe in boys in the room with the door closed. Matter of fact, when Mr. Mc and I were engaged, I would get in trouble if we were SITTING on the guest room bed at the same time. And no, sitting is not a euphemism for anything.
But, back to the bar. I was tripping out at seeing Tyler and asked the same question you ask anyone you haven't seen for a while, "How are you doing?"
His answer? "Well, I've got a little drinking problem, led to about 3 DWIs, my license is suspended, I don't have a job and my underage boyfriend dumped me."
Well, how the hell do you respond to that? I mean, seriously, the question I asked him is supposed to come with the obligatory "Great, thanks, how are you?" answer, in which you say, "Super, me, too!".
But, damn my luck and throbbing finger, I asked this question to a self-confessed alcoholic pedophile as he sits drunk in a bar, probably breaking all types of probation decrees. Wow, just wow.
I told him that I hoped he didn't leave anywhere near the time we left the bar. DWIs and all. Perhaps that wasn't sensitive enough? Krystle, as she do, was entranced by the conversation, leaned over the bar and felt the need to have him elaborate on his previous statement. "So," she begins, "how old was the boy?"
Tyler responds, "Oh, he wasn't underage, it was a joke gone bad!" Um, yeah, we believe THAT, perv. To which I sa to him, "Liar. How old was he?" GWD, "19." And then HBHBC speaks for the first time, never once taking her eyes away from the electronic slot machine in front of her, popping probably the most ridiculously large piece of gum in the history of chewing, " 14." and Tyler snickers and denies it.
Well, don't THAT beat all? Wow. Yuck. Now, I really, really wanted to beliee that the HBHBC was saying this fo kicks, but the chick never one took her eyes away from the screen. She said this shit as matter of factly as if I had asked her the time. So, I decided to roll with what she said instead of Tyler, an alcoholic who was steadily throwing back glasses of Jim Beam.
Speaking of Jim Beam, Tyler decides to change the subject and offers us all a shot, but says, "Oh, but I'm not buying or anything." Umkay...
The rest of the the night proved to be even more incredibly awkward. Among the highlights:
* Tyker declared that his father pays all of his bills (GWD has his own apartment with all of the frills, bells and whistles) and that he is entitled to these things because his father has been married 4 times and his mother has been married 6 times and thus, ruined his life.
* Tyler's mom is a whore. His words, not mine.
* Freak in a Can Redneck Man came over and told an incoherent "joke" about a homosexual chicken that wore underwear and said, 'cock-a-doodle-doo' all the time and also said "Git-R-Done!" I think he meant the chicken ?
*When K-Risty and I stated that our parents were giving us the shaft, not paying our bills, Tyler said, in a sneering voice that they were, "Trying to make us 'better'." Like it was a bad thing. Awesome.
*My girlfriends and I ran into my ex-boyfriend at a gas station and laughed at him for a while (because we're bitches). Ha.
*I drunk dialed Mr. McCrazy at 5am because my finger was throbbing so bad, I thought I was dying. Like Natasha Richardson. Because you know, they said that she pretty much died for no reason. That she didn't hit anything - she just fell, was fine, then 2 hours later she was knocking on death's door so hard she broke the dang thing down. And I was scared that, like, blood was getting into my finger bone and I was going to die. Right there in the bed with Krystle. So, I needed my husband, who never sleeps anyway, to Google what was happening to me. It hurt like, um, imagine, um, I can't even tell you. Just don't ever do it. At least the bed was soft. The mattress was the softest I have ever slept on. And, yeah.
The next day Dad laughed at me and suggested that maybe if I wasn't drunk it wouldn't have happened. Dude...
I still am kinda pissed that the unemployed alcoholic pedophile has an iPhone. Where is the feckin justice?
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
It's not libel if it's true
Or maybe it is. Legal lawyer-type friends, please feel free to chime in at any time. It doesn't really matter to me one way or the other. If it happens, I am going to write about it. The purpose of this blog is to chronicle our lives. Think of it as our own little reality show. And you, as a cast member of our lives, have a co-starring role.
I was going to write a book, but I have been creatively blocked. Blogs are waaay better because a blog is just a digital diary. And if I know anything, it is how to keep a diary. And yep, I write about you. So, love it or hate it, this is our life. I will try to remember to change the names to protect the guilty, but I can get lazy and also have memory lapses, so if I use a real name, too bad. So sad. But, not really. I love (most of) ya'll. So, in the words of Mr. McCrazy, "Don't get mad about it - suck that sh-- up and move on."
Without further adieu, I bring to you -
McCrazytown, the written reality show.
I was going to write a book, but I have been creatively blocked. Blogs are waaay better because a blog is just a digital diary. And if I know anything, it is how to keep a diary. And yep, I write about you. So, love it or hate it, this is our life. I will try to remember to change the names to protect the guilty, but I can get lazy and also have memory lapses, so if I use a real name, too bad. So sad. But, not really. I love (most of) ya'll. So, in the words of Mr. McCrazy, "Don't get mad about it - suck that sh-- up and move on."
Without further adieu, I bring to you -
McCrazytown, the written reality show.
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