BET's sound quality sucks dick... but this is my cut for today.
Well. My lil blog sis, being the fuckin' genius she is, has fixed the most OG blog of all times.
That's right... Ultimate and Insane is back yall.
Now don't get me wrong, Vox is sexy and all... but I'm paying for UI. Not like I'm paying a lot but dammit, even if I was paying only $0.25, it wouldn't make me a lick of difference. I'd be on it like I was paying $2500.00. Because I'm stingy and my momma told me not to waste my money.
So there you have it. I won't be doing any posts here anymore. Maybe some videos every now and then, but no real posting. All will return to Ultimate and Insane. So holla at a playa. See you back at the house.
Laters.
Good damn morning.
So I cut my finger yesterday here at work. Amazing. I have no injury from the yard massacre, but I come to my "safe" and "sterile" environment and slice my finger open. Only me, man. I swear.
Other than that I'm pleased to report that things are still going okay. The Baddest Bitch Euphoria has decided to linger a little while longer and I couldn't be more thrilled. I get tired of being angry and bitter all the time. I'm a little concerned though... I'm exhibiting some seriously obsessive behavior. I've been daydreaming about the backyard and all the shit I'mma do to it. I dream about grass seeds and dog repellant, plant hangers and weeder string. This yard and my ability to do it is making me wayyy to happy, much happier than sore muscles and broke hands should. But I kinda get it, so I won't be too hard on myself. It's like a "growth" thing... I had a mental block against the yard that manifested into a physical block. I managed to break that down and that's a major feat. It's also very inspiring: if I can break down that mental barrier then whose to say I can't completely fix myself with this anxiety/panic shit? I may always be anti-social, but I don't have to be sick behind it. I went to the McDonald's drive thru yesterday and only had to breathe once. Small, baby steps. And I owe it all to them damn puppies in my yard for tearing it up so bad I couldn't stand it anymore.
Well, lemme go eat my cookies from the vending machine. I'm SO glad that they fixed it... I was turning into an M&M fiend over here. Suckas. Bet not break that shit again or they'll have a postal lab employee for reals.
Y'all have a good one.
...so I don't have to elaborate. I will, however, say this: "ouch".
I'm sleepier than hell. Blame it on the yard and Arkansas... of course. As it stands, he's worked himself into my regular routine. The routine that originally had nothing to do with niggas. MY routine... the Mighty Monday of Misty. He's stepped right into it.
When I left Un I restructured my Mondays. It's my only real day off, so I just do what I like, namely laundry and hair. I did the same thing with Un in my life, but usually after the hair appointment I'd go see him or something. Once that was done I decided no more niggas would infiltrate my melodious Monday with their shit. Ohhh how wrong I was.
Now my Mondays consist of hair, laundry, car washing (maybe), the backyard (ouch, dammit), and I try to treat myself to some food. Being retarded, I can't go through drive-thru's alone. It has the same effect as being at LAX, or the grocery store. Some shit makes me want to literally crawl underneath something and hide. So instead of going back to the crackish therapists I decided to fuck with this shit head on. I force myself to hit a drive-thru every Monday. Only problem with that is, I'll get used to one drive-thru and I won't even try another one. Right now I'm at the Jack in the Crack on Avalon in front of the Carson Mall. I can get into traffic real easily from that one, it's close to my house, etc. Before it was the Burger King on Avalon and El Segundo. So I have those things I do every Monday and now he's crept in there. Keeping me up past my old lady time at his house with all the Law and Order and CSI I can stand. Then I get home, go to sleep, and next thing I know it's time for me to get up and I'm in all kinda pain. And mad sleepy. BOOO.
To make shit even more irritating, the vending machines are working now and I don't have change for a $5. Sucks. Dick.
One thing is kinda tight though... I'm gonna get some crazy muscles if I keep doing the yard. All that raking, weeding, dragging big ol' trash cans around? No 24 hour fitness for me, thank you. I'll just go cut grass.
I really like doing the yard. I mean REALLY. I like it almost as much as I like laundry. I like it so much I've considered rescheduling my hair appointments for late in the evening so I can do the yard at my leisure. I feel all crazy powerful slanging grass and extension cords and rakes. When I was growing up I was the smallest, skinniest twig in the world. Moms was always scared I was gonna break something so there were limits to my yard work. And she was right... the first time I tried to push a lawnmower I pulled a muscle in my arm and couldn't play my clarinet for a week. That feeling of being the "little girl" has stuck with me. I don't know what did it, but I woke up last week and decided that I wasn't a little skinny, fragile girl anymore. I was my momma's daughter... and my momma ain't no punk. That woman put up a chain link fence... from digging the deep ass holes and pouring the cement, to tightening the fence all by herself. While watching three little kids ride bikes and frying chicken at the same time. I watched her chop down a fuckin fig tree with a hand hatchet because it was "in her way". She and I ripped up the carpet, sanded the wood floor and stained it all in one day before Pops made it home from work. She and I put in the bathroom floor when it dry-rotted. She painted the house when she was pregnant with me.
See where I'm going with this?
Ain't no way my momma could be so damn hardcore and I grow up to be a wuss. Granted, I can do shit around the house. I'm the queen of ceiling fans (lol) and I'll fuck with the molding, carpet, and I can put windows in too. But I've never really been allowed in the yard. I held the trash bag, and I swept. I dug little holes for the flowers. But I wasn't allowed to get down with the heavy equipment. Until yesterday.
Last week I just raked and pulled shit. But this week? Nope... the weed wacker calleth and I had to answer. Pops wouldn't help me fix it and my brother doesn't live there anymore. He would have come over but I didn't want to call him. So I kept pushing on that button until I could get the string to come out. Plugged that bitch in and weeded like there was no tomorrow. So while I'm hurt as hell right now, I was victorious yesterday. I was THAT BITCH yesterday... the unfadeable, unfuckwittable, undefeated, baddest bitch of the CPT.
AND I still got cute and got my hair done. Looked like I hadn't touched a blade of grass. You wouldn't even know that I'd been slanging grass 2 hours before. Yep, I'm fly.
Now, I shall go work and starve. Hopefully I can get outta here early.
When I said I wasn't gonna fuck with the yard on Mondays?
Yeah. Big. Fat. Lie.
Not only was I in the yard, I fixed the fuckin weeder. By myself. And weeded the whole backyard, then raked and all that other crazy shit I did last week. OMG. I don't know who lied to me and told me I was Super Bitch, but I believed them. Now I can't lift my hands, lol. I'm ultra gimpy right now, but the yard looks bomb and I feel fuckin great. So to hell with these broke ass hands of mine.
The Magic Rack is back. Boo. Only to leave once my period starts next week. My life sucks dick.
I stayed home last night. Arkansas called me while I was at work. He was kicking it with his Funkmaster Friends. I guess they were BBQ'ing and some other stuff. It was like 7 or 8 of them, but he called me to check on me. I thought that was nice. I wish I wouldn't be so quick to shut down to him, but I guess I have trust issues. Whatever, he hasn't pissed me off yet so I'm not trippin too hard. I guess I'll see him once I leave my hair appointment. Chinese Becky rescheduled me for 3 pm, so I was able to do the random yard shit. I think I'mma do it every week; change up my routine. Yard and laundry in the morning, hair in the afternoon once I'm done with everything. Then I can go to Arkansas' house and chill.
Speaking of laundry, the dryer's off. So I'm out for now. Have a good one.
Man. I'mma have to post NWA up here if I keep going like this.
This song reminds me of the first boy at school that I didn't hate. Khye Johnson, 3rd grade. Gunned down by some asshole when we were in Jr. High. I'd moved on to nerdier pastures by then and wasn't in school with them anymore, but I always wished I'd been cute enough to be "one on one" with Khye.
Hall and Oats rock... fuck whatcha heard, lol.
I think I'm finally letting go.
I spent the night with Arkansas as planned and I had a great time. This morning we slept in (no DPG serenade or horrific incense) and went to see Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. That shit was funny as hell. We found a nice theater in South Gate. It was hardly anyone there. We got our pretzels and raisinets and laughed our asses off. Then we went back to the house, took a nap, ate some BBQ burgers (he loves grilling). He took another nap, all twisted up around me. It was so relaxed and comfortable; I was really happy. It was too weird.
While he was sleeping I'd look down at him, looking all peaceful. He was lying between my legs with his big ol' dome on my stomach. Arms had the death grip on my legs, but I wasn't trippin. I stayed extra still so I wouldn't wake him, only moving to change the channel. I listened to him breathe and remembered a time when I was happy like that... when Un would fall asleep on me. But when I thought about it, I didn't actually miss Un. I was actually so happy there with Arkansas that the flashback of Un couldn't ruin my peace.
Arkansas is going out with the Crust tonight. I playfully told him not to bring home any strays because I don't share. He gave me this look and said, "for real?" Then he gave me the biggest hug and kiss.
"It's about time you gave a shit."
I laughed, kissed him back and got in my car. Told him I'd call him tomorrow.
He may be wearing me down. I don't know, can't call it yet. But for now, I'm happy.
I have to stop coming home after 11:30 on worknights.
I know I'm an old lady sleeper, so why I keep pushing the envelope is beyond me. I've been over at Arkansas' place for too many days now. I could just spend the night, but of course I have to make shit insanely difficult for myself. I don't like spending the night over there during the week because it's something about falling asleep next to someone... it makes it too hard to get up in the morning. When I'm all spinstery in my own bed, I can pop up relatively easy. I tried to go to work from his house twice... I was late as hell both times. Not a good look. But damn am I tired.
Last night I came in around midnight. This morning I'm moving around in slow motion. I don't even have any M&M's because the damn vending machines are out for repairs. So no sugar hype for me. I'm doomed for the rest of the day.
He is going out with Crust Mafia on Saturday. He knows I'll turn myself off to him if I feel like he's ignoring me in favor of those fuckos, so I'm gonna spend the night with him tonight. I'm not jealous of him kicking it with his friends. I just ain't about that bullshit. He's used to throwing double standards around, and he's used to heffas chasing him (why I'll never know). He'll go out with them busted negroes, forget I exist for a couple of days and then get hurt because I'm not calling/running to his house after he does that. If you can come up missing for a whole weekend, then go do that. Don't try to pin me down when you can do what you please whenever you please.
Training niggas is hard work.
My soror just flaked on the same picnic she was bugging me about. Blah. I'll still go though, if for no other reason than to show my face for a few minutes. Then I'm ghost. Super ghost since she's one of my favorites and I know my other ones have to work that day.
Well lemme go drudge through the rest of the day so I can go to his house. I wonder what we're having for dinner tonight. I'm out, y'all have a good weekend.
I love the Dave Matthews Band. Sure, 90% of their shit puts me straight to sleep, but what a pleasant sleep it is. I had to chew a whole pack of Chicklets just now after listening to this live rendition of my favorite DMB song. It's called #34. Like for real, that's the name of it.
Of course since it's a live-slash-bootleged video from someone's pocket camera or some shit, you're gonna have random whiteys jumping around in front of the camera. Damn that. Just shut up and listen to the song, lol. Also, a warning: when you get to 4:51 fast-forward/skip to 5:45 on the video... for some reason Dave gets real dumb right in there. It's cool after the 5:45 point.
And nobody better try and pull my card on this... I'm still a gangsta. I got Piru Love and Damu Ride saved in my favorites to balance this shit out, LOL.
I kicked it with Arkansas last night. We went to WalMart (I still love Target, though) and was there for damn near 2 hours. Stores like Walmart and Target are the damn devil, I tell you the truth. We bought all kinds of random stuff... well he did. I know how to keep my wallet shut for the most part. Oddly enough he started throwing my kind of Dove body wash, lotion, etc into the cart.
"Uhhh, babe... what are you doing?"
"You need stuff. You're always bringing your shower stuff over here... you might as well just have some here at the house" *throwing some Always Ultra-Thins in the cart*
"Now how do you know I use those?"
"I recognize the wrappers from the ones I saw in your purse".
Observant. Can't be mad at him there.
I paid for my own stuff... I couldn't let him pay for it for some reason. I also got a toothbrush. He wanted to pay and started to pout. But I was unrelenting in the swiping of my ATM card. Because it's like this: he wants some of the Man-sibility, but his propensity for flaking is too strong. I can't let a nigga pick and choose which responsibilities he wants to assume. If you're my man, you need to assume everything that goes along with that role. Dinner is one thing, feminine hygiene is another, lol.
We left Walmart and hit the chinese food place. Quiznos was next door so I took my greedy ass over there and got some soup and a sandwich to go with my chow mein. His parents came over for a while... I really like his momma. She reminds me of my mom. Hella nice and funny. His pops is cool too. Once they left I hit the shower, he put on Benchwarmers (after Law and Order SVU went off because that's MY SHIT), and we stuffed our faces. I was so full I wanted to die. It was so comfortable, just chilling in my draws with him in his, not doing anything except watching TV. Nights like those I can get used to. If he keeps not-flaking, I might ease-up off this tendency to give him the red-light.
Ohhh shit, Donny Hathaway is on Launchcast... "I Love You More Than You'll Ever Know". That is my SONG. Gotta go sing. I'm out.
