My Hood is An Awesome Hood…NOT.

You know, living in the ghetto is like living in one endless book of weird freaked out fairy tales. Seriously, I couldn’t make this crap up even if I tried.

I laugh at it. I know its sad, but really, you have to laugh otherwise you will succomb to the ghettoness and become stuck and thinking that this stuff is the norm and believe you me, it aint the norm.

So, what’s been going on in my neck of the woods, you ask? Whuh? You didn’t ask? WHO CARES IF YOU DIDN’T ASK!!? I AM GOING TO TELL YOU ANYWAY! And you are going to read and enjoy and then laugh hysterically and then comment and tell me how funny it was!! Understood??? Great! I am so happy we came to an agreement.

I don’t venture outside much. I find it better not to associate with the neighbors too much because they start asking for too many favors. Dude, the guy next door to me, with the ‘No Smoking, Oxygen in Use’ sign in his window, who I see all the time smoking cigarettes, has one more time to call me Keisha (that is so not my name) and tell me I look pretty enough to eat while he proceeds to reeanact a KISS concert with his tongue. NOOOOOO!

There is also the neighbor who found out I work on computers and ask me to reload about 5 laptops for her. Yes, she seems like your typical granny, but being that she offers shots of bourbon and vodka on Sundays for $1 a shot and sells cigarettes for 35 cents each makes me doubt she bought them at our local Wal Mart. Um, lady, I don’t think so. I am NOT trying to have my fingerprints on your stolen goods!

Then you have the dude across the street who keeps getting kicked out by his girlfriend. He once hung out by the dumpsters for a whole week wearing the same red tshirt and faded jeans because she refused to let him in. I kinda felt bad for a moment, and thought about sending a box of goodies down to him because he was starting to look hungry. But you know that saying about not feeding the strays. I would probably never get rid of his ass. So I kept my distance, occassionally peeking out my blinds hoping he didn’t start digging in the trash.

There is also the woman one building over who, when off of her meds, likes to tell me about people scratching her Ford Taurus because they are jealous of it. Um, yeah. I didn’t know how to respond when she said, “Honey, they won’t scratch them white folks cars…and I aint meaning your white friends, honey. Your white friends don’t count. I don’t mean nuffin’ about thems.” Oooookay.

I tell ya. I stay inside for a reason. I feel safe in my apartment with my internet, telephone and cabinets full of bbq sauce. A chick can’t be seen outside. No telling who the heck might come up to me asking all kinds of weirdo questions.

And dear neighbordude, please keep your tongue in your mouth. It has little white splotches on it that makes me want to puke. Juss sayin’.

Crackheads Gone KoolAide and Bitch Wants My BBQ Sauce!

life has been one big ol fat hullabaloo of shit.

so what has been going on, you ask? i shall tell you. not that anyone cares, but i am going to tell it anyways and i dare one of ya’ll asses to say shit!

i am currently involved in shit.

oh my, who woulda thunk that shit!?

i now have the neighborhood crackheads (who surprisingly aren’t anorexic looking) on my ass. If they ask me one more TIME if i have a bottle of bbq sauce i am going to scream!

dude, you get foodstamps! quit selling it for a crack rock and take yer sorry nonSKINNY ass to the meatmarket down the road and pick up a bottle $1.89 bbq sauce! what is wrong with you!!???

and quit asking me for a shot of vodka. dude that is so rude. alcoholics don’t share with crackheads. us alcoholics have standards. the last time i decided to share my vodka with you, i caught you in my kitchen pouring it into empty beer cans and claiming your beer tasted funny so you were sending it by yer pregnant 17 year old to take to her father to test it out.

i am asking you nicely. please do not knock my door and ask me for any bbq sauce or koolaide. you know what i am going to tell you?

i am going to tell you to kiss my ‘brown skinned white girl ass’ and hell nawl you aint getting no bbq sauce and you damned sure aint getting none of my generic-it-aint-really-koolaide-juice-but-what-the-hell-you-know-packets.

Peace, love, bbq sauce, and here’s to the much needed CRACK intervention that is your sure 15 minutes of fame reality tv show. Bye.

It’s That Time, Dammit To Hell…

I am back.

I have so much shit, shit and even more shit that I can’t wait to get out. It is straight craziness.

Between Facebook, Myspace (deleted that shit-worthless I tell ya!), Twitter and now having a BlackBerry…it is really a bit much. Sooooooo, I am ready to centralize myself again.

This blog is about me. Me and the fuckton of crazies I encounter, but about me, nonetheless.

So, with this post, I hearby say, HELLO, WORLD!

Now peace out, you no good mo fo.