Living Rocks

Recently, I was horrified to discover that a type of plant exists called "The Living Rock."

Now, Monica knows that I don't really like organic patterns or fungal things that appear in nature like mushrooms and mold......it's very hard to explain, but I will attempt to do so in a later post.  Just understand that it makes my flesh crawl.

At any rate, I was in a plant nursery the other day looking for some bamboo.  As I was wandering through the aisles, I came across this disgusting little plant called a 'Living Rock.' What's so gross about it, is that it really does look like a rock, but you're actually a leaf the chose to grow all rock-like and square and brainy looking and just........just fucking wrong.  The whole concept is repulsive.

There was a sign on it that said "This Little Plant Will Get A Lot Of Attention!"

Not from me, because seeing some nasty shit like that everyday would surely make me lose my appetite.

The Accidental Racist

I think we all know at least one certified, card-carrying racist.  The ones who hate and hate proudly, with zero to no shame.  This post is not about them.  This post is about the people who are racist, and don't even know it.

Several times over the past few weeks I've encountered The Accidental Racist.  These people make statements that they don't realize make them seem like Hitler's 2nd cousins.  

For example, today at work, I overheard a woman say to another coworker, "Yeah, it's a great nail shop.  Everybody there is really friendly and they do an amazing job.  They're all Asian, but they speak really good English.  I think you'll like it."

Umm........M'kay......... Soooo.......Uh.......Yeah.  How do you even respond to that?  Are you suggesting that most Asians who work in nail shops don't speak "good English?"  They might speak perfect English, but choose not to do so around your semi-racist ass.  

Then there was our guest speaker, who was teaching us about billing and coding.  She was trying to get us to understand how sometimes businesses keep P.O. boxes in other zip codes to benefit from higher billing in those areas.  Her story went a little something like this:

"Well you know how in California there's a high population of Hispanics?  Ok well, this clinic, I think it's name was Clinica del' Rio..... or something like that, I don't remember.  Anyway, they had a P.O. box in Beverly Hills, but their practice was 50 miles away!  Can you believe that?"

Well, yes I can believe that, but I don't follow how that has anything to do with the high population of Hispanics in California??

I don't even get mad at them.  They're baby racists, they don't mean any harm.  

  

Super Bowl XL???

 This may be the first year I didn't make a big deal out of the Super Bowl.  Just seemed like the same old teams, same old players, same old beer commercials, same same same.

This year, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to go grocery shopping! The way I figured it, everyone would be home shoving various forms of gruel down their throats, getting sloppy drunk, and watching men destroy their bodies on the field.  This may be one of the only times the aisles would be clear, and I could do my shopping in peace.

For the most part, I was right!  I got in, got out, and was back home before halftime.

Stalker Acquistion

People often ask me why I don't go out much or why I won't go on a simple date from time to time when asked. The main reason is because I'm trying to keep my stalker count low.


In this life, you have to know yourself, and you have to know the effect you have on people.  One effect I know for sure that I have on people, is the one that causes them to tell me their life stories within a few short minutes.  The other effect I seem to have is one that generates instant stalkers.

Any time I go out with a man I'm not all that interested in, I almost always acquire a new stalker.  I think it's the mixture of independence, good breeding, and childlessness that makes them think, "She must be the one!"

Well, I'm not.

The next few weeks are usually filled with frantic texts, phone calls, and Facebook messages, trying to determine "where we stand."  Bitch, we don't stand anywhere.  It was one date.

That being said, I turn down more than dates than I agree to, because I'm really not trying to add any more stalkers to the roster.

Competing For Dick (You Are Not The Prize)

I feel really sorry for single women in today's dating market.  Truly, there are slim pickings.  If the men aren't busy wearing dread wigs, sending dick pics, or taking shirtless photos, they're highly eligible, and therefore, scarce.

With this scarcity comes competition, and it has created a whole host of highly feminized men.  Feminized in the sense that they want to be pampered, catered to, coddled, chased, and essentially, courted.  

With all due respect, Bitch, you are not the prize.

I absolutely refuse to compete for dick.  Why should I? I am the prize, not you.  You should be competing for me, the way nature intended.  If more women would adopt this philosophy, their lives would be ten times happier.  Instead, they enter into these petty little competitions with each other while this fool sits back and reaps all the benefits.  Damn that.  

Ladies, the next time you find yourselves in a situation like this, kindly look at your competitor and say, "You got it" and walk away.  That'll knock that ego down a few notches.  

No Whores In The House

As I've stated before, I don't have kids of my own yet, but I have already planned ahead for them.

When my son reaches a certain age, one rule shall be repeated, over and over again, until he gets it, and that rule is:  No Whores In The House.  


Now this rule isn't much different from any other parent's rules, but my reasoning is.  Of course I don't want him having sex in my house, and of course I don't want them in there drinking and drugging.  These are givens.

The main reason I don't want those whores in my house is because I don't want them going through my jewelry. 


By the time I have kids, I intend on being very well off, and as a result of that well-off-ed-ness, I plan on having a moderate collection of fine jewelry.  The last thing I need is those low-classed whores looking at it, touching it, putting it on, stealing it, and/or leaving their dirty little fingerprints all over my Sterling.

Nothing would enrage me more, and this is why this rule will be #1 in my household.

High Quality Sugar Daddies

What ever happened to the High Quality Sugar Daddies, the ones from back in the day?

The ones who dressed well, smelled good, and had all or most of their teeth?

The ones who either had no children or grown children who were self-sufficient?

The ones who lived on their own, and owned pieces of property?

The ones who properly invested in their retirement plans, and therefore, had more money to spend?

The ones who were either never married, divorced, widowers, etc?

The ones who only required the occasional dinner date, a hug, and a smile?

What ever happened to them?

Bad Luck Birds

I have run into a lot of folks in my time who, within the first 15 minutes of knowing them, have told me their entire life stories, that happen to be filled with a series of unfortunate events.  I call these people Bad Luck Birds.  

One time I met a guy who seemed normal enough.  On the first phone call, he informed me that he had been laid off twice in the past year, totaled his car-shattering his left knee in the process, been wrongfully arrested, and lost his best friend in a boating accident.  Oh yeah, and he's partially blind in his left eye with no hope of correction.  And you're 30.

Baby, I don't want to hang out with you.  You've got bad luck.  Imma need for some of that to rub off before I'll even set foot in a car with you.  Damn thing might run off the road.

Now, please don't get me wrong.  I understand that everyone goes through things from time to time, and that it sometimes pours when it rains, but damn.  Can you keep some of that to yourself, please?  What exactly am I supposed to say in response to these things?

This is the kinda stuff I run into, which is why I generally stay my ass at home.

The Cinnamon Challenge

Now these are some damn fools if I've ever seen some.

Pray tell, what in the world would ever possess you to put a whole spoonful of cinnamon in your mouth?  The people who are undergoing this challenge clearly never cook, because anyone who's ever baked knows that cinnamon is very spicy and will make you sneeze like a motherfucker! In fact, too much cinnamon can sometimes ruin a dish.  That in mind, not too many seasoned chefs will fall for this new trend.

Some of these fools almost choked to death trying to complete this challenge.  I'm thinking, didn't you see the other YouTube videos?  Do you see a fairly decent success rate?  If not, what makes you think your trachea and nasal linings are designed so differently than everyone else's?

I wonder who came up with this nonsense.  Whose bright idea was this?  What's next on the list..salt? pepper? Garlic!  Try garlic.  Better yet, onion powder.  That'll wake you up in the morning.

To witness this tom-foolery, click here:   The Best Cinnamon Challenge

                                                           Cinnamon Challenge Epic Fail

The Dark Knight

I'm the first to admit that I am waaaaaay behind on my movies.  It's just not a priority to me.  But, I do catch up a few years later!

I saw Batman: The Dark Knight for the first time a few days ago, and immediately, my first thought was, 'Is there any particular reason you're talking like that, Batman?'

Homeboy sounds like he smokes 15 packs of Newports a day.  He makes the Joker sound normal by comparison.  Now, I haven't seen the movies that precede this one, but I, uhhh, don't think he was talking like that.  Was he?

If he was, you should all be ashamed of yourselves for letting this go on for so long.  I certainly can't picture him on top of me, because that voice would freak me the eff out.