Thursday, December 18, 2008

I blame us.

Men are so lazy these days.

Because they know we can, they want us to
bring home the bacon, fry it in the pan, feed them, clean up the
kitchen, then fuck them. Even then its like, pull it out...get it
hard...get the condom...where are the condoms? Where are the condoms?
He wants me to buy condoms? I'm sorry, I don't have the condoms. I buy
my condoms for random sexual exploits--sporadic moments of pleasure. If
we're getting it in on the regular, then you need to have the
condom-that's YOUR expense. Besides don't they sell those by the 3837
pack at the barber shop? Surely ya'll must do more in there than gossip
like chicks and get your hair cut. I took my pill--I took care of one
potential issue, you take care of the other. I'm doing my part so we
don't have a kid, you do your part and keep me clean! But the next time
he comes over--do you have condoms? Of course you do! The only way you can make sure you get it in is if you have them, so you would be a dummy not to have picked them up.

We women are enablers. You meet a man that has his stuff straight, and because there are so many half assed men out here, you treat him like a king. Problem is, these "knights in shining armor" are only doing what they should be doing--those slackers have us jaded. They really shouldn't even be making a blip on our radar, but there they go--fuckin the game up majorly! We then end up in a cycle of ego
stroking and settling. Now, there are some good dudes out there--I
would like to think I've snagged one--but even they have issues. A lot
of them are so jaded when it comes to triflin whores, that they don't
know how to treat women. They don't beat them or anything, but they do
a lot less than they should for us--and we go for it!! There are a lot
of members of the "He-Man Woman Haters Club" walking amongst us,
disguised as perfect gentleman. Everything will seem great, until he
starts doing inexplicable dumb shit. You think you've done something
wrong to him, when it actuality, its just that his crazy is starting to
show. We just can't win...

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Somebody stop them!-workplace rants

From: Random Lady Upstairs
Sent: Thursday, December 11, 2008 11:24 AM
To: The entire office
Subject: holiday tree decorations

Please join the fun and celebration of the joyful season by adding an ornament to the holiday tree in the Lee Building Lobby. There is a box of ornaments from which to choose and you can add your special touch to the decorating today.

ARE YOU KIDDING. That's not a question (notice the period), that's a statement. You want me to put an ornament on the tree. Let's think about this. I don't customize the ornament...I don't write my name on it, add any glitter, nothing--just take it out of the box and put it on the tree? You mean you want me to help you decorate? OK-why didn't you just say that? I will accept your request for assistance--however, delegating work in Jesus' name is just wrong. And you wonder what is wrong with our society. This lady must think we are crazy. Then again--I bet there will be a line up there at about 12:30 pm--a line full of people waiting to do someone else's work on their lunch break. They better be glad I'm a Christian. I would have them all back here, filing papers in exchange for prayers...suckers.

Yesterday, we had an offsite meeting in Charlottesville, with a presentation by a co-worker from Jim Collins' "Good to Great". It could have been a very beneficial presentation-if it wouldn’t have been so wrong. Mind you, I only read the first 4 pages, but as a child of the 90's, I went online and found a summary. The book (well, supplement of the actual book) talks about inputs and outputs--for instance--focusing on your outputs (lower crime rates), as opposed to your inputs (how many arrests were made, how many tickets you gave out, etc.). The presenter asked for examples of inputs and outputs. And so it went:

Me: "An input may be improving the quality of training for new hires. The output may be higher retention/lower turnover rates as people aren't as frustrated with their jobs, and are more knowledgeable and productive.
Presenter: *writing it down* "Ok".
Director: "Good customer service!"
Presenter: *writing furiously* "Right!!"
Me: *thinking* Right? Where is the rest of the answer? Inputs and outputs--that requires a compound sentence at least--not a phrase...? Whatever....
Co-worker: "Helping out whenever you can."
Presenter: "Absolutely--this is what is meant by inputs and outputs-doing what you can for the employees."
Me: *looking around in total confusion and thinking* No--that's not what's meant. Did ya'll idiots even read this shit? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU CRAZY PEOPLE?!?!?!?
Another Co-worker: "Going the extra mile takes us from Good to Great."
Presenter: "That's a good example, and that’s what the author is getting at."
Me: *highly pissed at this point, still thinking* Ok, so it's evident you read the TITLE of the article, but where the hell are you getting this mumbo jumbo from--and why does the presenter keep agreeing?!?!?

At that point, I gave up for the day. Too bad it was only 11:29 am--but it happened just that quickly. As the presentation went on, it got even further and further away from the topic at hand. I love being smarter than other people...but that shit is sooo frustrating.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Lead by example-if I wanna collect unemployment, maybe.

Below is an email that my DIRECTOR sent out this afternoon. My director--aka the person that makes 6 figures and treats us all like uneducated peons. Down even further is the correction she sent. Rounding out this post is the final "correction".


From: M
Sent: Monday, December 08, 2008 3:48 PM
To: Human Resources
Subject: Christmas Meeting Reminder

We will be holding our Christmas all Staff meeting and celebration on December 10th. MARK YOUR CALENDARS – DON’T GET SICK, ETC. We will meet at VIB at 9:30 – Richmond staff will leave hear about 8:15 (that means we have to be here a 8:00 to be sure we have everyone). We have the Van and our car. Everyone can drive together with still room for our goodies. Please no cologne, perfume, aftershave etc. This will prevent anyone with allergies to feel ill and not be able to EAT!!!! I know having an allergic reaction is worse than not being able to eat, I just added a little humor!!

From: M
Sent: Monday, December 08, 2008 3:55 PM
To: Human Resources
Subject: FW: Christmas Meeting Reminder

Let’s turn this into English -- meet here now hear and inside HR.

V, do you know how to get to the restaurant from VIB. This could be important. I am sure J knows and she will be driving one of the lunch cars and dropping us off at the Wild Greens.


From: M
Sent: Monday, December 08, 2008 4:05 PM
To: Human Resources
Subject: RE: Christmas Meeting Reminder

OK so I can’t spell!!!!!! Surprise, now you know you do not have a perfect boss. I am going to quit while I might be ahead.

You can grind-but don't touch!

Saturday night was an unexpected club night. Snow flurries turned into a clear, almost winter night--and me, Kevin, and Bre took advantage of that. What a night--so enlightening. I never knew two drinks could do so little, but so much! We were able to party at one spot, and then go to a new spot and party til 4. Anyway--today's PSA is about dancing.

The *people* on the news call it "freak dancing", but to most of us--its just dancing. It’s the oddest concept. A girl will get all cute, go to the club, and two step--until she sees a set of eyes on her. That innocent two step turns into a cute little "yeah, I know you're watching" bounce. Shortly thereafter, if the interest is still there, that cute little bounce turns into a suggestive "you better come get on this" wind as she knows that she's being checked out. Dude gets the hint, comes on over, and jumps on it. Suggestive wind turns into straight simulated sex--until dude tries to rub her ass down-and the chick starts trippin:

"Ummmm, what are you doin?"

"Nothing...I was just..."

"Just what, trying to feel me up?"

"Nah, we was just dancin...?"

"Yeah, JUST dancin...I don't know you like that."

" bad shawty. Lemme get you a drink."


And the chick happily sips her vodka and cranberry while the dude gets him a $9 lap dance for the rest of the night.

What is wrong with this picture? It's ok to sexually assault me as long as there is liquor involved? But then--why do you get mad when the dude doesn’t ask for your number? This man just left a spot on your jeans for the price of some rail liquor and american fare orange juice--and you expect him to call you? For what? That would involve dinner and a movie. He's more than content to meet you again at the club next week for the VIP Treatment. You won't kiss on the first date-but you'll dry hump before you know his name-kinda sounds like the win/win.

Me personally--I'm ahead of the game. I'm not gonna work you out until I know a drink is involved. You aren't gonna go to work if there's no guarantee you're gonna get paid, are you? I'm a philanthropist, but I don't do charity work. If I'm enjoying myself, we can dance, and if its my song, I'm gonna hold it down...but if I see someone else that may actually buy drinks and you haven't offered, I'm on it--sorry buddy. I can dance alone no problem--and if I want a drink that bad, I have cash on hand and I know exactly where the bar is. Go find one of these chicks that came to the club with their gas light on and barely enough for a fill up-much less, enough to purchase their own libations.
Now that--that's a whole 'nother blog...

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Down with bad drivers!!!

You know what I don't understand? I don't understand sloooow drivers. I was rushing back to work after my lunch break, on a street that had a speed limit of 40 mph. The car pulled out in front of me--and proceeded to go about 20mph. So, I got from behind them, changed the lanes a few times, then ended up behind another speed challenged car--going about 31 mph. He was really traveling a leisurely Sunday drive pace--and its not Sunday--its Wednesday, and these here are working hours, not leisure time. I tried to get a good view of the driver (yes, from the back), just to see if I could come up with a reason as to why he was were driving so slow. After about a mile and a half, I went from being aggravated, to being PISSED. Yes, a speed limit is the maximum speed you can legally travel--it’s a speed limit, not a speed requirement. But I don't get it-why wouldn’t you want to drive as fast as possible? I bet that if that driver goes to the store and sees something he wants to buy on special for buy one get one free, he will go ahead and pick up two. NO, it isn't a requirement to pick up two, but if you can get two for the price of one, why wouldn't you?!?!? I mean, slow drivers are dangerous. Haven't you seen that commercial where the guy is in the store buying something, and everyone in the line is using their Visa--but he hands the cashier money--and shit starts falling apart, people drop stuff, dogs are growling, babies are crying--he causes total chaos?? It's the same thing--I'm driving fast, and then I get behind your slow ass. I have to slow down, and make everyone else come to a halt. I'm cursing, shaking my fist at you, acting all crazy, and slowly killing myself from the stress.

Why do you want to kill me bad driver? What did I ever do to you?

Times like this make me want to be a cop. If I were a cop, I would sit in the bushes and pull people that were going more than 5 miles under the speed limit. I would put them on time out, on the side of the road. They would have to sit there 3 minutes for every mile they were under the speed limit. Can you imagine what a huge incovenience that would be? That would be AT LEAST a 15 minute time out--and if I stopped you for driving like you have way too much time to kill--I bet you're gonna be speeding in order to get there on time then, buddy...

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Thanks...I guess.

So, some guy sent me a poem on myspace today--says that he's a poet from New York. I said awwwww...thats nice--lemme check this guy out. Ugh. He's a mess.

is she a sex fiend or myspace queen
either way a man would still have to drop to his knees...if he plan on pleasing versus teasing
a man with no fear... is music to her ears
she is tired of wasting tears on todays brothers...the act young and so they live at home with their mothers
your checking for that lover to put in work underneath the covers
smothers you with kisses hugs and candy for no reason
hand picks you flowers from every season
you dont ask for much
someone has respect
bring home a check
provide great sex
and has a flexable neck
for those horny nights
able to afford first class flights
and hold it down if there ever was a need to fight over you

Are you kidding me? Call me crazy...but isn't it a requirement that a poet have good grammar? I personally don't want to read anything that I need to have deciphered.

And I live at home with my mother---but guess what--I can S-P-E-L-L with no problem. Who am I to knock someone that lives at home?

Smother me with candy? Like, pour a bucket of Hershey's Kisses over my head while I'm asleep? I think he meant to use the word showers, not smothers. I mean, I understand smothering someone with affection--but when you add CONfections--it just doesnt make sense anymore. Besides...I've never heard of any good come from something being smothered. And no, I don't eat smothered pork chops, chicken, or any of that other smothered stuff black people eat.

Hand picks flowers for every season. What flowers is this fool picking in the wintertime? He must be STEALING them from a florist, at which point I want no part of it--I'm done with criminal minded individuals.

Respect me, yeah...bring home a check, yeah...great sex is a plus...flexable neck--flexIble is good. First class flights? Thats not that serious--at least not on AirTran. Coach is ok for me.

Hold it down if there was a need to fight over me? HELL NO...I'm done with bonding fools out of jail. You fight if you want to--I'm gonna be in the car. And you better not get your ass whooped either.

This guy wrote a poem..but im not convinced that he's a poet. I can draw a picture, but I'm not an artist. I should write him back and tell him to quit while he's ahead, and its just myspace. And doesnt it kinda sound like he hopes she's the sex fiend, and NOT the myspace queen?


A co-worker of mine has been talking about some skin tag on her face. It was bothering her yesterday, and I pretty much ignored her griping. This morning she showed up with a little band-aid on her eye. She came over to me and said that the skin tag she was talking about the day before had grown, and was in her line of vision. She then got closer and said "It looks like a little penis!". I chuckled of course, but whatever--I wasn't thinking about her and her little stupid skin issues. Around 9am, she called her dermatologist, and wonder of wonders--she was able to fit her in at 10:45. My co-worker hopped around in delight fora minute or two, and said that since she was getting it fixed, she would show it to me.


I wish my contact lenses were made by Polariod, because if I had a picture of it--I could make millions.

You ever see an adult movie where the non-black man pulls down his tighty whities, and his flaccid P falls out? Well--that's what happened with this growth on her eye. As I watched it fall into her eye, my own eyes widened in amazement. Madame Tussaud herself could not have done a better replica of one of nature's most intricately designed creations. It was just hanging there. Narrow and dark on her eyelid. Bulbous and light at the end. For real--if I'd gotten any closer, I swear I would have been peed on. I kept asking her to see it again and again--I was AWEstruck. If I wasn't so afraid of STD's and bastard babies I would have definitely asked to touch it. She had to go to the restroom to put the bandaid back on because she had to fold it up in order for it to fit. She was working with a monster.

She's gone for the day. After she got back from the dermatologist (and paying $135 on skin care products totally unrelated to the growth), she said she didnt feel well. They took her biggun, AND got her for over $100. I can't blame her. Talk about emasculation. Und!cked and d!cked--all in the same day.

Makes for a fun blog post though. I'm baaaaaaack!!

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Today's gripe.

Not having an office door sucks. When other people want to be private and have members only meetings, they close their doors. When they want to have personal conversations, they close their doors. When they want to express displeasure in something someone has said to them, they slam their doors. When I want to have a meeting, I have to go to a conference room. When I want to have a personal conversation, I just whisper. When I want to express my displeasure, I scowl. What the hell does that do, besides give me wrinkles? I can't go around hitting on stuff, cause I will go to jail. I can't up and leave, cause I will get fired. What sucks the most is that if I'm beefin with someone that HAS a door and they piss me off, they can close THEIR door. And win again. It's like having the last word. I'm gonna start leaving a sign that says "my door is closed" on my nameplate--like I do my "I'm at lunch" sign. Then I'll look like the angry black girl, going out of her way to isolate herself from everyone--even though they know FULL WELL that I'm still available because there really isn't a door. *Sigh*….I can't win.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

It never ever ends...

An email from my loser ass coworker, sent to me, my boss, and the HR Director.

Please be sure to find a place to use the date stamp in an area that does not obscure information on the form OR prevent the clear completion of the form which will be send to other agencies or departments. If a suitable space cannot be located on the front of the document - please turn the document over and stamp it on the back of the form. (In the current example, the date stamp was placed right over a section that must be signed by [the third party provider]. A clear spot was available at the top of the form. Or the back would have been preferable to putting it right in the signatory section.)

Thank you.

The biggest...boss?

This Rick Ross thing....I love me some Rick Ross. But this nonsense he's gotten himself into now--ridiculous. So what you were a CO? You could have played that into something like, EFF the cops, I used to piss in their lockers or something--but no. He wants to LIE about it. Everybody needs a job at some point in time--why LIE about the one you had? Get it how you live!! Every woman loves a man in uniform, and every dude in lock up wants a cool ass nigga on the inside. You straight played yourself on this one, Rick!!! It's bad enough you use someone else's boo Lavelle did the same thing...but still. He picked a fictional character. You picked a hard core criminal. At least Lavelle was a formerly homeless guy that picked David Banner--a dude that turned into the Hulk. You were a CO that picked Rick Ross--a nigga that sold alot of drugs. You're like that loser from high school that becomes a sheriff to torture people cause you got picked on. You aint gotta lie to kick it, dude.

Wednesday, July 9, 2008


I had a partial staff meeting this morning. I missed the first 30 minutes of it due to other work, but when I got there, they were actively engaged in conversation about nothing that pertained to me. Lucky for me, I had taken along my notepad to do a packing list for my trip to NY. So, as they talked, I mentally matched up my tops, bottoms, and shoes for the weekend. We got to a part where I actually needed to listen--we discussed the importance of capturing someones race in our recruitment system, for purposes of importance. Since I'm no longer the sole black person in the department it really shouldn't bother me, but whenever anyone mentions "race" in my workplace, I get extremely uncomfortable--I know my director and the things she says. As she was telling us about the need to guess someones race if they don't disclose it, she picked me as her example. I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting to hear what nonsense would come out of her mouth.

Director-"Let's say Lisa comes in and I am interviewing her..."

Me-(thinking) shit...

Director-"She doesn't disclose her race on her application, so I have to guess..."

Me-(thinking, again) shit shit shit shit...

Director-"I may think she is Native American, Indian, or Black. Her hair is always different, so she might come in with long wavy hair one day and she looks Indian, but have curly hair the next, so I really don't know!"

Me-(I chuckled, thinking) Dammit I wish Kevin was here.

Director-"If I didn't know she was Black already, I may not know just by seeing her, so you have to ask. The lady that cleans my nails-I thought she was Hispanic. The other day though, her sister and daughter came in and looked nothing like her. So, I asked her what her background was. I found out she's half Hispanic and half black--I guess she got her mom's coloring and her sister got her dad's".

Me-(thoroughly confused at this point)- This B is crazy. I've never even seen a Hispanic doing nails. I bet she's lying.

That was mild, compared to what I thought would happen. This is the same person that questioned whether Black people's heads were shaped differently than White people's--considering Black people look so much better in wigs....

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

About to lose it...sorry it's so long-but it has pictures!!

This is the hallway leading to me and my boss' desks, and my desk. The counter top you see is my boss' desk. If you make a sharp left at the opening, that's where I sit. Follow along.

I received this email from my director the other day:

From: The Director
Sent: Thursday, July 03, 2008 10:31 AM
To: Her 3 cronies (C's) and the other peons (P's) in HR

Please be sure to let P1 (my boss), Lisa, P2 or P3 know when you are leaving your office for an extended period --- lunch, meetings, etc. This will enable them to respond appropriately if someone calls or comes by to see you. They will also be sure to check with each other so that there is someone watching out for employees coming into HR. GOOD EMPLOYEE RELATIONS.

On rare occasions they may also be out together but either C1 or I should be alerted so we will listen out for people coming in.


The Director

If someone comes in and walks past my friggin "nurses station" of a cubicle, am I supposed to act like one of the jump out boys--"Where ya goin?" "Who ya hear to see?" "Ya need help?" You can see me before I see you, you see my name on the side of my cube...surely you can ask if you need help. If you want me to watch for employees coming into HR, sit me by the door, give me a taser, and call me security. Otherwise, don't expect me to play the role. You can speak to someone just like I can. Just cause you have a door doesn't mean people are supposed to seek me out when they need something.

Then today, I noticed that one of the cronies emailed my boss about her leaving to go somewhere and not having anyone to tell because my boss wasn't here, and "Lisa was...." (I couldn't read past that point without actually opening the email). I was a little hot behind that, but whatever, I still don't know what it said. THEEEN--the director left to do some things, and told me where she was. About an hour later, someone else came by and asked me where the director was. I knew the answer, but when I tried to tell them my mind went blank. I thought to myself, I should have written it down. Then I thought again--HELL NO---what do I look like?!? Her personal assistant?!? I'm not writing down a MFing thing. I went so far as to pull out my job description just to be sure--and no--that shit is so not my job.

So, I went onto the net, did some research, and emailed my boss the message below:

Could I suggest a magnetic dry erase board similar to this? Far be it for me to come across as rebellious-BUT-I really don't think we should have to be responsible for knowing the whereabouts of 10+ adults. Someone came by and asked me where Maryann was, and although she told me when she left, she told me like, 3 or 4 things she was doing, and it took me a second to remember and repeat it. If we had a board like this right outside of P4's old cubicle (a nice central area), people could update their own in or out of the office statuses, and leave remarks if they chose to--as long as someone can see that they are in or out of the office. This would also be good for people like us that occasionally take some lunch time at our desks and have no door to close. Thank you!!!

That's not insubordination, is it? I have a Masters Degree in Human Resources...why am I "Top Flight" of my department??!?! Yo...if I wanted to be a criminal justice major, I would have just put in my two years at J. Sarge and applied at Wackenhut...WTF?!?!?

Edited to add--

OMG--This is like a bad nickname in school that just sticks!! Now everyone is coming up to me and telling me where they are going. My reaction is always the same--I kinda squint my eyes and shake my head like, "And you're telling me because???....", and then I remember. With sad, sad eyes, I just say ok and look down at my desk in disgust...

Monday, July 7, 2008


Why DO black people enjoy watermelon so much? I had some today at my desk (in tupperware bowl, eaten with a fork), and as I got to the bottom of the container, I realized I might want more. When I finished it, I was kinda pissed--I really did want more watermelon! So, I went on with my morning, and when I walked past the bulletin board with today's cafeteria menu on it, I saw that they were serving watermelon. Did I go and get any? Of course not. I have some at home that's free. Even still--I imagine it wouldn't be as sweet and refreshing as mine. Mine comes from a black home, not a Greek owned office building cafeteria. No, it wasn't grown at my house (although my daddy does grow them), but I know that my mom, a (albeit light skinned) black woman, knows how to pick a good watermelon. Yossi--I'm not so sure if he knows what a good watermelon looks like or not. Oh well. Just thought I would share. At least I still have this Granny Smith apple. Aren't they just delicious?

Thursday, July 3, 2008

I don't get it...

Again, no follow through...couldn't even give up this blog. But anyway--

Kevin sent me this story about a 70 year old woman that just had twins (with huge pampers--check out the pic!!).

Upon reading the article, a few lines in particular jumped out at me:

Her husband, Charan Singh Panwar, 77, mortgaged his land, sold his buffalos, spent his life savings and took out a credit card loan to finance the treatment.

“At last we have a son and heir,” he said. “We prayed to God, went to saints and visited religious places to pray for an heir.

“We kept no stone unturned and God has rewarded us. The treatment cost me a fortune but the birth of a son makes it all worthwhile. I can die a happy man and a proud father.”

Ok, so you now have an heir...and have NOTHING to leave him.

You are gonna live what's left of your life in debt, with no income, and a toddler to drive you closer and closer to your grave. You asked God for this? Maybe its a cultural difference--here, we don't have kids so that we can leave things to them--we have them so they can give to us (extra tax money, gov't assistance, street credibility-you know, whatever floats your boat). Maybe I have to get older and amass some riches to understand this...or just turn Indian.

Can someone can enlighten me?

Kinda weird...

I was at the microwave heating up my lunch, and I noticed a box of plastic cutlery. In it, there were 360 pieces--forks, knives, and spoons. Ideally, there would be 120 of each piece, right? Instead, there were 180 forks, 120 knives, and 60 spoons. This struck me as odd. If I wanted a box of plastic cutlery with 360 pieces--why wouldn't I want an equal amount of everything--particularly forks and knives, because if you are spearing something with a fork, you probably needed a knife to cut it. So, I thought and thought, and came up with one thing--clever marketing. You buy the box of 360--but then have to buy extra boxes to supplement the knives and spoons. That's a cool idea--but just wouldn't work for some people. You pull that nonsense with me, and we're either gonna have to share knives, or learn how to cut symmetrically with our forks and spoons. I bet they didn't count on that. Must have been a non-black person that came up with that ridiculous concept....more forks...whatever.

Just thought I would share.

My first official post

DAMMMMMMMIT. I just wrote the greatest blog, there was an error, and it wasn't posted.

Everyone knows I hate failure, and have no follow through.

Eff this blog nonsense.


Welcome to my blog!! My BFF suggested that I start keeping one, because my life tends to be on the comical side. I really do think I'm God's favorite-just because he tries his darndest to keep me entertained. I really don't think other people see or experience the things that I do on a daily basis--so this is just my place to share those random happenings. And oh yeah--and share the lessons I learn from those things as well. I hope you enjoy my life as it happens.