tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64618494352859703652024-02-07T22:28:17.382-08:00I'm THAT girl...so I know what I'm talkin 'bout...THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-52871411788002747102017-01-10T21:33:00.001-08:002017-01-10T21:33:36.944-08:00You know what sucks?...having to be the bigger person. Sometimes you wanna be petty as a MF. You want to not return calls, and ghost people. But you don't, because you never, ever know...THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-44568622441630589002017-01-06T12:22:00.002-08:002017-01-06T12:22:18.822-08:00The First Date...take 1,000,001I have a date tonight with a guy I met at a club last Thursday. He called me on Monday, made plans to meet up on Friday, finalized those plans on Tuesday--and here we are. I met him at a Backyard Band show, and since its go-go night at the Wizards game and BYB is performing--it was perfect. I copped us some nosebleed seats, and we're in there. I'm not sure where else the night will take us, but I'm actually excited about it--which is a surprise. I've noticed that as I date more, I'm becoming increasingly over getting to know someone. Dates are great. First dates come with a lot of extra pressure. I've talked to dude every day this week, a couple of times for well over an hour. I guess that's a good sign, but hell, what do I know? It bothers me that I'm becoming more cynical, despite how hopeful I am about the future. But regardless of how I think it's all bullsh*t, I'll still go on first dates. One day, it'll be my last one. THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-58003406754352303582016-12-28T21:21:00.002-08:002016-12-28T21:21:39.529-08:00And so it begins...I've had this blog forever, but never really felt compelled to write in it. But now, I need to write in it. Santa Claus gave me the most awesome little laptop for Christmas. I'm sitting in the bed typing like I was meant to do this. While I did just get off the phone with my ex after an hour long conversation (we haven't spoken since May) I really don't feel like going into it. It was a good convo, but I think that I'm a little emotionally spent right now, and I just want to go to sleep. He's actually the reason I said, let me go ahead and pull this blog up. But anyway...I'm here. Let's see if I can stick with this. THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-55691724225691445452014-01-15T01:17:00.001-08:002014-01-15T01:17:27.199-08:00Coughing fits<p dir="ltr">This cough refuses to let me be great. I can't sleep, so I'm up thinking. I recently cancelled a profile on a networking/dating site, Meet Me. It was worse than Tagged. Tagged was the projects of social networking. MM was like the slums. Like, I needed a voucher in hand just to log on. It was the skid row of dating sites. Where all hope for love goes to die. When a dude that had no job, car, or place of his own tried to talk to me, that was it...I was done. Like, ninja you don't even deserve internet access. Your life hasn't earned it.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I hate when I go to an African or Jamaican club and some slow song comes on. Dudes starts dancing with you like they love you, trying to gaze into your eyes and shit. And you're like nigga I don't even know this song. I heard the chorus before, but it's not my jam. The only reason I'm still standing here is because the bar is too full and I'd rather stand here where it's a tad bit less crowded. Get your dick off my leg and find a more drunk chick to have your moment <u>with</u>. Geez.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I wish I could go to work right now and just work till I fell asleep...like, 15, 20 hours straight. If I fall asleep I will be mad when the alarm goes off in a couple hours. If I stay up, I'm gonna crash around 1. I wish I could get my 40 hours whenever I wanted during the week. It's the gift and the curse of Fed employment. Core hours. FML.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Yeah...that's about it.</p>
THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-39443254822620910692014-01-10T21:21:00.001-08:002014-01-10T21:21:05.482-08:00Lockup<p dir="ltr">If I went to jail, people would always be beefing with me. My commissary would stay super fat. B*tches would be hating.</p>
THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-27294726293166955772014-01-06T01:38:00.001-08:002014-01-06T01:38:26.402-08:00Late night FB ruminations<p dir="ltr">I hate when old ass men refer to their woman as their girl. That chick is 43 years old...she ain't been a girl since Reagan was in office. Can you upgrade her title out of respect at least?</p>
<p dir="ltr">One of my FB friends added the life event "got engaged" on 12/31. On 1/5, he posted "sorry y'all, didn't work out". Nigga. You knew when you posted it that it wasn't gonna work. You ain't save up and buy a ring for her to wear for five days. If you would have, you wouldn't be posting on FB. You'd be canvassing the streets trying to get that ring back. These hood ass, "we don't need a ring to be engaged" engagements are too much.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I hate these chicks posting, talking bout "where are all the good men?" Obviously not on your FB friend list, because you post this same nonsense every couple days. Desperation is so unattractive, and your thirst trap is so obvious. You know who would probably actually bite though? See the paragraph above.</p>
<p dir="ltr">FB was never the creme de la creme of social networking-but it certainly turns into the projects after 2 am. </p>
THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-52189353292295490502014-01-05T16:24:00.001-08:002014-01-05T16:24:26.255-08:00She's an asshole.Often times, I come off as a jerk...I know that. But I'm really not a jerk...I just don't like dumb shit. Is something wrong with that? I need to learn how to reject people a little better.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-84535422977388974582013-07-16T07:39:00.000-07:002013-07-16T07:39:48.859-07:00Just a few things...-It bothers me to no end when people post their prayers on FB. You are writing a prayer to God, on Facebook? Is he your friend on Facebook? Do you understand how the concept of prayer actually works? Social media has made people so weird. NO ONE REALLY CARES, dude! <br /><br />
-Sensitive men are the worst. If I say something to offend you and I notice you're bothered, I will apologize. But if I say something else and you get in your feelings, I'm out. Not even because you're sensitive, but because you obviously don't get my brand of humor, and we are not a good fit. <br /><br />
-It trips me out when men disappear for a while, then pop back up. Where do you think I think you were? You weren't saving the rain forest. You weren't in some village in Africa curing AIDS. You were somewhere with someone else doing you. Why on earth would you think you could attempt to walk back in my life and have me take you seriously? Go back and continue your philanthropy tour...I'm good over here. <br /><br />
-I have a friend that stays posting FB statuses about struggling--but he is expecting his 4th baby with the same woman. What is it MJ said? If you can't feed the baby, then don't have the baby! You asked for this! Did you think the 4th one would come with no expenses or something? Thanks to Obamacare, my birth control is absolutely free. And it isn't just mine that's free. Your chick (well no, baby mama, since neither of you claim each other even though she has a homemade tattoo of your name etched onto her collarbone) could have gotten some too. <br /><br />
-I've noticed that older people were much more attractive younger than we are. I read the obituaries daily (don't judge me), and a lot of times they will have a picture of an older person in their youth. Without photoshop, hair extensions, and tons of makeup, these folks were absolutely beautiful people! Everyone looked cleaner and neater, their skin was better, their hair was healthier, their smiles were brighter--our grandparents looked much better than us. Period.
THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-89866146836131035162013-07-11T07:47:00.000-07:002013-07-11T08:11:42.098-07:00My experiences with online datingI've recently ventured back into online dating. The other day, I came across this guy. He seemed pretty cool on paper, he was attractive-I was interested. His page said that he played pro football, then worked as a federal contractor, now he does construction. Interesting career path...but whatever. I guess he saw that I'd visited his page, because he ended up hitting me up, and we began conversing. After a couple days of conversation, he asked if we could talk offline. I agreed, and when he told me his name and gave me his number, I recognized both his name and area code--I'd met this guy online before. I couldn't remember why we'd stopped talking. I chalked it up to my past pettiness and shallow behavior and continued on. When he called me, I was on the other line and I said I would call him back. He said ok. I called him back 5 minutes later, and I got a text-- "sorry im busy. call back later". That's when it started to come back to me. I remembered dude being petty. I also remembered he had no cable, and wanted me to hang out over his house (clearly not to watch cable). Then I remembered that he worked a temp job and drove a BMW...an OLLLD BMW, with a broken seat. Dude was d*mn near indigent...and that wasn't ok. But that was the past...things may have been a little different now, right? He had moved about 2 miles away from me, and judging by his pics, was no longer in that raggedy car--so I figured it could be work. He ended up calling back, and we talked. He said that he had just seen his dream car, and he was going to get one--by his birthday (in October) or at least the end of the year. I asked what it was, and he said a Porsche.<br /><br />
Really dude? You're talking about the price of rent in Alexandria, and you plan to get a Porsche? <br /><br />
So I said ok. He then continued on to say that in addition, at his birthday party, he wants to come in in a helicopter. Now, I didn't say much about the Porsche, but at this point, I had to speak up. I said to him, you do realize that no one will see you arrive...you can't just land a helicopter anywhere. He told me that he knows someone that does helicopter rentals, and him and his boy once paid $300 to ride around all weekend. I was like, oh yeah, that's cool...but you still can't land it anywhere. The phone got silent, and after a couple seconds, I asked, so you're gonna have your birthday party in a field...? He was like yeah something like that, it's gonna be a hot party. After anothern awkward silence on my end, he says, that's all you have to say? You aren't gonna be like, I wanna go to your party, I bet it's gonna be fun? I wasn't sure what to say, so I just said (I guess unconvincingly), yeah...? He told me he was taking his bags in the house, and he would call me back. I have yet to hear from him. <br /><br />
I remember why we didn't work out. Not only was he broke, but he was an idiot. One or the other sir. Pick your struggle. THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-82836030256155018242013-01-02T10:44:00.001-08:002013-01-02T10:44:21.668-08:00New beginningsSo, I've decided to take up blogging again. I'm excited about this new year. I've resolved to give far fewer f*cks than I have in the past. Some things aren't worth a second or third thought. And I've realized that some people are just a**holes, and will never change. It's nothing bad about that, but it's just their lot in life. Everyone won't be a doctor. Everyone won't go to college. And everyone can't be a normal, nice, kind person. Someone has to be the jerk--we all need common enemies. Enter THOSE people. I could use a nap. I wish I would have brought my snuggie to work.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-63140174109514848552010-12-21T05:59:00.000-08:002010-12-21T06:08:02.966-08:00Holding on.This morning, I'm happy. I'm happy because he is. I AM, because he is. I honestly have no idea how those without faith make it from day to day. Without my faith, I would be dead and gone by now. If 5 years ago you would have told me that I'd have the career I have, making the money I make, driving the car I drive, living in the city I live in--all on my own--I would have never seen it. I'm just so abundantly, superbly blessed. Through adversity, troubles, trials, and tribulations, not only am I still here, but I'm THRIVING here! I've lost loved ones, seen people go to jail, come home from jail, give birth, lose babies, get married, get divorced, been in love, been out of love, and been on the verge of just giving up completely--but that faith. The faith that told my grandmother to hold on, and told my mother to hold on,tells me to hold on. Keep looking above. Keep moving forward. Even those times when you feel like you can't make another step--God will carry you--just believe that it will happen. What a year its been. Maybe I can come up with a 2010 recep blog...THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-44287993951831464322010-12-01T09:10:00.000-08:002010-12-01T12:46:33.575-08:00IDK.The frequency in which men move in and out of my life is alarming. These aren't men that I'm sleeping with...men that I'm falling for...men that I've dated for months...but just random men. Men I meet online, men I meet at bars, men I meet at clubs--even men I meet through mutual friends. We msy talk or text a few times...then it's over. Granted, some people have busy lives, but if it's that busy, why even make the effort of getting my number and starting to get to know me? It's starting to affect me. Is it because I'm not giving up anything? Maybe I don't move quickly enough. Did I "have it" in my younger years, and no longer have it at 30? It feels like the closer I get to realizing my other goals and dreams, the further away men move. Maybe God is preparing me to move into my destiny and I need to go into it alone? Or maybe like Paul, I'm not even supposed to end up with anyone. Something to reallly think about.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-11536462652383864082010-11-18T13:41:00.000-08:002010-11-18T14:06:09.572-08:00Grown FolksI can never remember to write in this damned blog. I have a million thoughts swirling in my head at any given time, and forget to write them down. Ok, neglect to--because I'm lazy. At any rate, my friends and I were talking about marriage and relationships earlier today, when it dawned on me that if not for those kinds of things, we wouldn't have anything to talk about...besides college and home furnishings...which I believe would then make us boring married people. We started out in similar places, some of us lagged a little more than others, and in the end, we are all in the same stadium. Again, some of us are closer to the field, and some of us are in the nosebleeds--but we're all here. I would write more, but I have some more work to do, and I need to meet my friend at Friday's for Happy Hour. You know how good I am with my priorities--so I'm shuttin this computer down so I can get to the bar and get a seat LOL!!! More tomorrow. Or maybe even tonight. Depends on how happy I end up getting.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-46230236554136115372010-08-03T11:00:00.000-07:002010-08-03T11:29:54.053-07:00Is that all you wanted? Why didn't you just say so?In the Wizard of Oz, Dorothy just wanted to get back to Kansas. She went through hell and high water to get to the Wizard, and when she finally made her request, the Wizard asked her if that was all she wanted. It wasn't difficult for him to oblige, and if he would have said no, she could have gone on her way. I think the same thing about men. Often times, a man will wine and dine you, buy you gifts, and keep sniffing around, just to get a lil sumthin. If you want to get to know a woman, that's fine. But if you just want the goods--just say so! There are plenty of women that would let a man have his way with her, just because. There is no need for him to mislead her, or believe that he's "gaming" her out of anything--it is what it is. If you want it, and I want to give it to you, it's gonna go down. <br /><br />I met a guy this weekend. My friend is a bouncer, and I was hanging out with him at his job. He told me that his coworker "E" kept checking me out. I hadn't paid dude any mind, but once I got a good look at him, I said ok...he's cute...I could be interested. My friend had to go handle something somewhere else, so E came and stood at my friends post. I was facebooking on my BB, and he took it out of my hand and put it in my pocket. Of course, smart comments were exchanged, and we started conversing. In convo, I found out this guy was separated, but living with his wife still (smirk), and his 3 kids--12, 15, and 18. We talked a little more, and the conversation kind of fell off. Another guy came over, we started talking about the Federal Government, and since he was buying drinks--we went to the bar. I talked to him for a while until he was getting ready to leave, and then walked back over to where I was, 3 drinks to the good. At that point, I was ready to leave. As I was walking out, "E" asked if I enjoyed my new friend. I was like, what? That was business...and just kind of walked off. So, Monday afternoon I get a text from E. I immediately texted my boy that works with him and asked if he gave E my number-cause I know I didn't give it to him. He said yeah--I said he could (which I didnt remember, but who knows). So, I responded to his text. E asked what I was doing, and I told him. Then, this fool says, "Hey, can you send me a noddy pic". I get a little heated. It's then followed by a text that says "Notty, my bad". At this point, I'm kinda pissed. So I respond, "It's actually naughty-and what I look like sendin a man I just met-who's somebody's husband-naked pictures? U got me fucked up babe". He responds "Ok it was nice talkin to you". I couldnt even respond. That was the most gangsterific thing I've experienced living in MD. No game...no bs...no cut cards--period. Even though I was a little offensded...I could do nothing but respect this man. Granted, dude is 39, and been in the game for years--but you just gotta love that kind of honesty. He should teach a class...that was some reallll G shit...THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-75623905442635372012010-07-22T12:43:00.001-07:002010-07-22T12:54:45.239-07:002 years though?!?!?It's been almost 2 years since I wrote in this blog. Alot has happened. I've loved...lost...relocated...dropped a few pounds...picked up a few pounds...and made money. In the grand scheme of things however, nothing much has changed. I'm still confused as ever regarding life's major topics. Instead of a recap-let's get right into it. I got the "nicest" message on FB today:<br /><br />Nsa Ekpenyong July 22 at 2:03pm Report<br />Lisa am i love with u! This is my digits +2348063920247 <br /><br />I don't know this guy. Not even through another person. This is not cute...this is strange. Does something about my picture make him think that I'm going to actually add him as a friend...or better yet contact him on his extremely long phone number? Sprint does allow me to make international calls...but I prefer to date my crazies LOCALLY. Do I look that pressed? Sheesh.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-88789866929444523022008-12-18T06:22:00.000-08:002008-12-18T06:27:05.340-08:00I blame us.Men are so lazy these days. <br /><br />Because they know we can, they want us to<br />bring home the bacon, fry it in the pan, feed them, clean up the<br />kitchen, then fuck them. Even then its like, pull it out...get it<br />hard...get the condom...where are the condoms? Where are the condoms?<br />He wants me to buy condoms? I'm sorry, I don't have the condoms. I buy<br />my condoms for random sexual exploits--sporadic moments of pleasure. If<br />we're getting it in on the regular, then you need to have the<br />condom-that's YOUR expense. Besides don't they sell those by the 3837<br />pack at the barber shop? Surely ya'll must do more in there than gossip<br />like chicks and get your hair cut. I took my pill--I took care of one<br />potential issue, you take care of the other. I'm doing my part so we<br />don't have a kid, you do your part and keep me clean! But the next time<br />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. <br /><br />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<br />stroking and settling. Now, there are some good dudes out there--I<br />would like to think I've snagged one--but even they have issues. A lot<br />of them are so jaded when it comes to triflin whores, that they don't<br />know how to treat women. They don't beat them or anything, but they do<br />a lot less than they should for us--and we go for it!! There are a lot<br />of members of the "He-Man Woman Haters Club" walking amongst us,<br />disguised as perfect gentleman. Everything will seem great, until he<br />starts doing inexplicable dumb shit. You think you've done something<br />wrong to him, when it actuality, its just that his crazy is starting to<br />show. We just can't win...THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-2305893217076322512008-12-11T09:03:00.000-08:002008-12-11T09:09:45.434-08:00Somebody stop them!-workplace rants<em>From: Random Lady Upstairs <br />Sent: Thursday, December 11, 2008 11:24 AM<br />To: The entire office <br />Subject: holiday tree decorations<br /><br /><br />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.</em><br /> <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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:<br /><br /><em>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. </em><br />Presenter: *writing it down* "Ok". <br />Director: "Good customer service!"<br />Presenter: *writing furiously* "Right!!"<br /><em>Me: *thinking* Right? Where is the rest of the answer? Inputs and outputs--that requires a compound sentence at least--not a phrase...? Whatever....</em><br />Co-worker: "Helping out whenever you can."<br />Presenter: "Absolutely--this is what is meant by inputs and outputs-doing what you can for the employees."<br /><em>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?!?!?!?</em><br />Another Co-worker: "Going the extra mile takes us from Good to Great."<br />Presenter: "That's a good example, and that’s what the author is getting at."<br /><em>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?!?!?</em><br /><br />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.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-79790772038428771732008-12-08T13:03:00.000-08:002008-12-08T13:25:31.653-08:00Lead 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".<br /> <br /><br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />From: M <br />Sent: Monday, December 08, 2008 3:48 PM<br />To: Human Resources<br />Subject: Christmas Meeting Reminder<br /><br /> <br /><br />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!!<br /><br />------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />From: M <br />Sent: Monday, December 08, 2008 3:55 PM<br />To: Human Resources<br />Subject: FW: Christmas Meeting Reminder<br /><br /> <br /><br />Let’s turn this into English -- meet here now hear and inside HR. <br /><br /> <br /><br />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. <br /><br /> <br />M <br /><br />--------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />From: M <br />Sent: Monday, December 08, 2008 4:05 PM<br />To: Human Resources<br />Subject: RE: Christmas Meeting Reminder<br /><br /><br />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.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-20399419142392806472008-12-08T09:56:00.000-08:002008-12-08T09:57:38.419-08:00You 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. <br /><br />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:<br /><br />"Ummmm, what are you doin?"<br /><br />"Nothing...I was just..."<br /><br />"Just what, trying to feel me up?"<br /><br />"Nah, we was just dancin...?"<br /><br />"Yeah, JUST dancin...I don't know you like that."<br /><br />"Damn...my bad shawty. Lemme get you a drink."<br /><br />"Oh...aight..."<br /><br />And the chick happily sips her vodka and cranberry while the dude gets him a $9 lap dance for the rest of the night.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br />Now that--that's a whole 'nother blog...THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-29596400577099333732008-12-03T12:53:00.000-08:002008-12-03T13:00:12.387-08:00Down 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. <br /><br />Why do you want to kill me bad driver? What did I ever do to you?<br /><br />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...THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-46290540863368234892008-12-02T14:00:00.001-08:002008-12-02T14:02:48.824-08:00Thanks...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.<br /><br /><em>is she a sex fiend or myspace queen<br />either way a man would still have to drop to his knees...if he plan on pleasing versus teasing<br />a man with no fear... is music to her ears<br />she is tired of wasting tears on todays brothers...the act young and so imature...plus they live at home with their mothers<br />your checking for that lover to put in work underneath the covers<br />smothers you with kisses hugs and candy for no reason<br />hand picks you flowers from every season<br />you dont ask for much<br />someone has respect<br />bring home a check <br />provide great sex<br />and has a flexable neck <br />for those horny nights <br />able to afford first class flights<br />and hold it down if there ever was a need to fight over you </em><br /><br />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. <br /><br />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? <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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. <br /><br />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?THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-12244934016351321232008-12-02T10:13:00.000-08:002008-12-02T10:31:12.523-08:00D-HeadsA 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. <br /><br />Man. <br /><br />I wish my contact lenses were made by Polariod, because if I had a picture of it--I could make millions.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />Makes for a fun blog post though. I'm baaaaaaack!!THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-3843588141379485602008-08-07T12:49:00.000-07:002008-08-07T12:50:01.033-07:00Today'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.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-65297888325469534152008-07-22T12:16:00.000-07:002008-07-22T12:20:14.511-07:00It never ever ends...An email from my loser ass coworker, sent to me, my boss, and the HR Director.<br /><br /><em>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.)<br /><br />Thank you.</em>THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6461849435285970365.post-1669773136251666052008-07-22T08:18:00.000-07:002008-07-22T08:25:25.221-07:00The 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 name...my 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.THATgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09485806776624523957noreply@blogger.com0