The end of Democracy as we know it... LB

Yesterday morning I was a happy girl, until I read this small article…

http://techcrunch.com/2010/09/03/craigslist-censored-adult-section-comes-down/

Peruse at your leisure, but for the sake of time here’s the synopsis. They want to BAN the erotic ads on Craigslist. Now due to a no fault clause I have with Obama... i'mma have to blame all this on the Republicans.

Let me stand on my political soap box for a few minutes and explain to you how why this is not a good idea..

Hungry kids…

Do you know how many children will go hungry because mommy wasn’t able to promote her “services” and in turn put food on the table? Do we really want Sarah McLoughlin to create an even sadder commercial using hungry looking American kids instead of dogs on death row?

More people in the welfare line…

Mom’s who can’t work, go on welfare. Have you ever been to a Super WalMart on the 1st of the month when the welfare checks clear? It’s a nightmare. But I guess since all republicans shop at Trader Joe’s they wouldn’t know anything about that, now would they?

Drop-outs

Without the avenues previously available to advertise, you’re gonna see a huge drop out in the nursing/medical assistant schools. We need nurses, have you ever stayed long term in a hospital. You never see the doctors! They show up, give you bad news, “examine” you in very private places then bounce. It’s the nurses who actually “nurse” you to health. We desperately need skilled nurses and you obviously know women with their talents have great hand and eye coordination and practically no gag reflex, which comes in handy when dealing with patients who smell bad.

Catholic Church

Yes, I will admit, where’s there’s a “sexual entrepreneur” advertising her “services” online, there is a 80% chance that there’s drugs involved somewhere in that equation. Whether she’s on it, her pimps on it or her clients are frequent users you never know. Could be none, one or all of the above, but think about this, many of the dollars that go into the drug trade are "washed" or laundered through totally legit channels. Unicef, good will, your shady uncle who just showed up with a bunch of presents for Christmas that one year all thanks to your local drug lord. Also, how would the Catholic church survive without the "guilt" offerings/donations they receive from Mexican drug lords each year.

So to my sexual entrepreneurs offering “body on body massages” in the privacy of your rented motel room i.e. “headquarters” raise your head high. To imjustdoingthistillimfamous@verizon.net or Craigslist Reply jnck-99872938@craigslist.org ... I'll miss you. So what a few serial killers came in and messed up the whole gig. I know the erotic section on Craigslist started as a marketplace for freedom. We can’t let them take this site down, doing so means that we let the terrorist win. Just know we’re all out their fighting for your right to live the American dream. 

LB

Antoine Dodson... RS

I'm going to do a little bit a lazy blogging.  This is too good not to post..  I have no comments on this other than...

WHAT THE FUCK???????? 




and don't forget to check out  The Remix???????


RS

In My Previous LIfe... RS

In my previous life I was a professional puppy kicker… Yes, that’s right. You heard me…. A professional puppy kicker!!! I went around kicking the shit out of puppies for a living. Puppies with big brown eyes and sad faces. Puppies that only wanted to be loved and cared for. Puppies that would fetch the paper for you, bring you your slippers and cuddle up close to you at night only asking for food and love in return. And what’s worse… is that I was contracted to do it. I took money for kicking the shit out of these poor defenseless little animals…


I have no evidence to support any of my previous statements with other than my current position in life. Kicking puppies in a former life is the only way I can explain the pure shittiness of my life’s situation as a whole… Damn it… I knew I should have been an exterminator… People hate roaches…

Fuck…

RS

Single-Minded... LB

It’s no surprise I am single. I manage to mention that fact in almost every blog post. Today is no different. However, what is different is the way I have begun to categorize men in my head.

Yesterday morning, I met a new neighbor in my apt complex. We exchanged quick hellos as we walked to our respective cars. I did not size him up for cuteness, respectfulness, intelligence, etc. I put him into the only two categories that mean anything to me at this moment.

Can lift heavy furniture/Cannot lift heavy furniture.

He not only fit in the “Can lift heavy furniture” category, but as we walked to the parking garage I noticed that he owns a pickup truck.

I don't think this is too soon to say, I think I love him.
 
LB

Boy meets tampon… LB

It was 11:00pm on a Saturday night, I was home watching DVR’d shows from HGTV when I decided to take a joy ride out to Walmart for random non-essential items. It was right before midnight, when I spotted this sexy man walking in my direction. It was magical.

1. He was cute
2. He was just as lame as I am, because he’s shopping at Walmart in the middle of the night and it’s not for condoms
3. He actually made eye contact and did not turn in the other direction.

All things considered, I realized, he could be the one! As he walks closer, we exchange more flirty glances. A millisecond later my newly created fantasy slowly began to crumble. We both locked gazes, not at each other, but at the econo-sized box of tampons I was holding in my hand. At that moment, the look on his face changed, as though he was “reassessing” the situation and he walked by me. As I stood there in the feminine hygiene aisle of my local super walmart, at midnight, holding an econo-sized box of tampons watching the man of my dreams push his cart right out of my life, I thought of only one person.

At approximately 12:10am on a Sat night I texted RS one short message. It stated, “I realized tonight, my long standing vow of celibacy is no longer self-imposed”

If my vagina were an ATM giving out million dollar bills, there wouldn’t be a sole person in the world willing to make a withdrawl. I’m not sure when this became true. I’m sure one could approximate a date by simply reading through previous posts on this site.

LB

Island Folks... RS

I was recently in the Bahamas on vacation. There are few things in life that I enjoy more than heading down there for a week of fun in the sun and relaxation. However, since a majority of my family is from the island it is inevitable that I end up having to spend time helping someone family member or family friend out with something that I would just rather not bother with... but such is life…


About three days in it happened. I was forced to go through the very painful process of helping a 60 year old man load his personal contacts in Google. Now they will automatically be stored for his use from any location around the world and they will easily download into the new cell phone that he has been eyeing for some time now. Hooray for me. I explained to him that it’s safe and easy and now he won't have to worry about losing the giant book of numbers he has been carrying around for over 30 years.

The conversation went as follows…

Me: Don't worry about anything. This is safe. Your info is backed up and if you ever get that phone you won’t have to put each number in. They will just load for you.

Family Friend: But what if I get the phone and later it breaks? Then I will lose everything.

Me: Even if that happens the contact will be saved on the internet so you will still have them on the computer.

Family Friend: But what if the computer breaks? That I will have nothing!

Me: That’s the beauty of this. The info will still be on the internet and you can access it from anywhere. So there is nothing to worry about.

Family Friend: But what if the internet breaks or crashes?

Don’t laugh people! This is a reasonable question for a 60 year old man who has spent most of his life on a small island in the Southern most part of the North Atlantic. However, my daughter, who is an inner city kid with a bad attitude and a quick tongue much like her old man, did not see it this way. She then felt the need to make her own observations on this topic.

Daughter: (while laughing uncontrollably and nearly falling to the floor unable to breathe) The internet isn't going to end. What are you talking about? That doesn’t even make sense. (Continued Laughter)

Crushed, embarrassed and ashamed... my poor old family friend left the room defeated and no longer interested in this new technology or the phone that he had his eye on. It was sad to watch him leave the room in defeat at the hands of a child. I wanted to scold my little girl for her words and her lack of sensitivity... but I was too busy trying to stop myself from laughing…

I aint shit!

RS

Lent is now over… RS

…And as a result, I can now go back to being an angry, miserable bastard. Many of you who read this blog may recall that I told my mother that I was going to give up acting as such (http://deuxlosers.blogspot.com/2010/02/40-days-of-lent-rs.html)…

We’ll despite the naysayers, I did just that. I was a wonderful man for 40 days….

But now that Lent is over… the first thing I did when I came in this morning is to tell my office counterpart (who wanted to talk about the NCAA Brackets of which I have been out since round one) that I wasn’t in the mood to hear any of his shit! Fuck him…. This verbal lashing was made even better not 15 seconds later when another officemate came and wanted to talk Redskins… I was all over that one… leaving the first guy sad and confused.

While that was minimum… its only noon. There will be more miserable bastardness to come… this is promise!!!

RS

A lesson learned on when to scream! LB

Spring is in the air, the sun has returned and so have the bugs. Usually any chance encounter with a bug in my apt is met with a myriad of screams, prayers, tears and followed by an minor emotional break down. This is all due to the fact I believe bugs will automatically crawl into your ear and lay eggs in your brain while you sleep. 

The breakdowns were all fine when I was the only person living on my floor. But that is no longer the case. My apt is all full and the walls are paper thin. I know this because I literally hear my neighbors breathing, coughing or sneezing. Many times I find myself saying, "God bless you" across the wall.


As a single woman living on her own for the first time, I realized, you don't want to waste your screams.

I was listening to the news this week. Apparently, there's a man in my neighborhood, who likes to break into single women's homes in the middle of the night and fondle himself in front of them. With my luck, he's probably also an avid fan of this blog.

It was then I realized, it's important that my blood curdling screams should be saved for freaks like that. Not for the stink bug that happened to find it's way into my bedroom. The solution is easier said than done. I thought about just covering my mouth, but I don't want the neighbors to get used to my muffled screams, as those are also a cry for help.

I believe I will start singing old negro spirituals to give me the strength to do what I need, to defend my new apt from 6 legged intruders. And I'll save the real screams of fear for the 2 legged ones.

LB

God Looks Out for Babies and Fools... RS

There is an old cliché that says God takes care of babies and fools. I believe this to be true because this past weekend my little girl turned 10 yrs old. She is my baby… and I am a fool… and God has taken care of us both.

Have you ever had one of those moments as a child where you looked at your parents and just wondered how and why they were granted the right to be parents? My daughter has one of those moments every time she’s in the same room as me.

Flash back eight years or so. My family was slated to arrive in town. I forgot to set my alarm clock. Shit! Now I’m running late to pick them up from the airport… Now I have to hurry to get me and my kid ready.

OK, how am I going to do this? Well, I guess I should just get myself ready while she is still asleep, then get her ready when I am done. Or, I could wake her up, get her cleaned and dressed and then let her eat while I’m getting ready. Or, I could get ready and just pick her up and put her in the car asleep. Or, I could put her in the bathtub and let her play in the water while I wash up in the other bathroom. Or I could just leave her here with my roommate and his girlfriend. The possibilities were endless. Sensory overload set in.

After sitting there for 20 minutes deciding how I should handle the situation, I realized that I had in fact just wasted 20 minutes. I sat there for another five minutes stressing out about how I had just wasted 20. After reconsidering all my options one last time, I finally made a decision: get her washed, give her something to eat and then you get ready.

I hastily picked her up from her crib.

In case you don’t have children you might not know: you should never hastily pick up an 18-month old. It’s just stupid. Picking her up so quickly startled and woke her.

But being awake wasn’t a problem. Her screaming because I’m a dumbass was. I tossed her on the bed and took her clothes off, amidst her cries and pleas for help. I figured once she was in the tub shit would be cool. Kids love the bathtub. They can slosh water around, they can play in the bubbles, and they can eat soap. The tub was the answer.

At that moment the worst thing that could have possibly happened did happen. I had a great idea.

I’m not going to put my 18-month old in the bath tub. That would take too much time. I’m going to give her a shower.

Yes, the shower. This is going to be great. I’m going to save time, and everything is going to work out for the best. My mind was racing at 100 mph as I took handfuls of water from the shower and dumped it on her to get her wet. Never mind that now the bathroom floor is soaked. It’s cool because this is all part of my plan.

It gets worse. Implementation of the next stage of my master plan... putting soap all over her. Let’s step back for a minute, and take a good look at what is actually taking place. A naked, freezing, screaming 18-month old girl in the middle of a bathroom; her idiot father sitting on the soaked bathroom floor, in his boxers, lathering her up with Dial Body Wash.

It gets worse still. After feverishly lathering up my offspring, I put the finale part of my masterpiece to work. I got up off the soaking wet floor, picked up my soapy, slippery angel, turned on the shower and shoved into the path of the water. She screamed like there was no tomorrow. Figuring the water to be too hot, I turned up the cold water and shoved her back in the H2O’s violent path.

The screaming continued, but I figured it was cool. I had about half the soap off her at this point, so I was confident that she was going to make it thought the ordeal. The only problem was that I really couldn’t rotate her 180 degrees, without actually getting halfway in the shower myself. I was kind of leaning and twisting and turning, but I was just missing too many spots.

By this point I was so wrapped up in plan execution I had forgotten her screams. I now had one leg in the shower, and was trying my hardest to get the last of the soap off -- while she kicked and yelled and spit water at me. I just didn’t know why. The water was nice and warm.

Hearing the screams for help… my roommates girlfriend came to assist me… She walked in and there she saw… a naked, soapy, dripping 18-month old held captive in a stream of rapidly moving water. Her father standing there in soaked boxer shorts, with one leg on a slippery floor, and the other off-balance in the shower…

“What the fuck are you doing,” she asked. Rightly so I think.

People should have to pass a test to have children… I’m unfit to be a father even now… but I continue to try my very hardest…

Happy Birthday Baby Girl…

RS

The new microwave... LB

On Monday the microwave at my office died.  And I being the least senior person in my office with a corporate card was tasked to purchase a new one.

As I looked at the old microwave so unceremoniously removed from it's perch atop the kitchenette, I couldn't help but to reminisce.  I had a lot of memories with that microwave.  Like how it always smelled like bacon from when I made my morning and usually afternoon bacon snacks.  The rest of the office complained, but I never understood how someone could not love having the sweet smell of bacon welcome you everytime you open the microwave door. 

I also remember the day I set a small to moderate fire inside of it.  Good thing our smoke alarms don't work!   BTW... my fire had nothing to do with the untimely demise of the microwave.  I set that fire a year ago  The blackened ceiling of the microwave served as a cautious reminder that metal thermouses do not belong in the microwave.  All in all, it was a good friend that served our office well.

Before you go... can we take a moment of silence for a fallen camrad. 

Key to looking important at the office... LB

Hello Readers

If you have ever watched Seinfeld, one of funniest episodes was when George explained how looking annoyed all day at work made him appear busy to all his fellow coworkers.


I thought it was ingenius, so I decided to take my own spin on it and share two very important tips that have carried me far into life... and high up that corporate ladder of lower middle of nowhere management

Part 1 - Keep your desk an unorganized mess

I can find stuff in that heap of garbage I call my office desk, but others, not-so-much! This is good because it prevents people from rummaging around and finding stuff like drafts of my posts for this blog. But also, when people see stacks of papers, all around you, they assume it's because you have a lot to do. When in actuality, I just save everything in a misguded attempt to CYA...  I've become one of those horders on A&E.

Part 2 - Make em wait....

This also happened by accident. Typically people come by my office and ask me for help. Usually I am more than willing to oblige but I never simply get up right then to assist them. Why? Well usually because I keep my pants unbuttoned for maximum comfort at the office and standing up would not be a good idea. This also means I have to be UBER vigilant about open zippers when walking down the hall, but you know what. It's a small price to pay. My coworkers, think the delay is because I'm finishing up some important report, perhaps synthesizing a plan for world peace. Who knows, but it works like a charm. Sometimes, while they wait, they may figure out a solution, and leave me free to continue doing whatever non-work related activity I was doing before they interrupted me.

Readers, take these tips to heart and maybe, just maybe, it will land you the promotion you've been dreaming of.

LB

Ordering for One... LB

I discovered this little Italian sandwich place down the street from me. It’s in walking distance, so I’ll often head down on foot. It’s my way of earning my calories while also discovering more about my new neighborhood. Whenever I’m there I often get a lot of food. Mainly because I’m too lazy to cook and need enough to last me a couple days, and also, because I am greedy.


I don’t want to be that girl who lives alone and orders copious amounts of food. Even if I am that girl who lives alone and orders copious amounts of food.  So I make up an imaginary person that I’m also ordering for when I get to register. A typical order will go something like this.

Hi, I’ll take a order of X and a side of Y …. And oh yea… I'll also need to order a large Z as well… for my friend... Yes!  My friend will also need a two liter of ginger ale as well.  (I really do use those exact words!)

Now I’m at the register thinking I’m a genius mastermind. They’ll never know it’s all for me. But the guy at the register sees through my geniusly crafted façade and will ask if my “friend” needs extra cheese or a particular condiment. The sarcasm drips from his mouth like the grease from whatever I've just ordered. I’ll simply reply, “no” and grab my large bag in shame and rush out the door, usually with a fry or two already in my mouth.

Keep in mind, I do this EVERYTIME I go there. Even though they know there’s no one else eating the food. I feel like I’ve started something and now I have to see it through.



LB

Georgetown Hoyas and DC Sports... RS

I try my best not to take my personal feelings about things and put them on this blog…  But today I will do just that…. 

Just look at this picture!!!  Its says it all...

Fuck Washington DC sports!!!  The Redskins go 4-12 this year including a lose to the Detriot Lions who until that point had not won a game since Christ was crucified… the Capitals get up 3-2 on the Penguins in Hockey on to lose 4-3 while the Pens go on to win the Stanly Cup…  The Hoyas kill Duke, Villanova, Syracuse, UConn and make it to the final off the Big East Tournament only to get blasted in the first round by Ohio University, a team that me and four of my co workers could bean 4 out of 5 times. 

I’m a Redskins season ticket holder…  I’m selling every ticket next season b/c we just picked up Larry Johnson who’s got more miles on him than my old Chevy Blazer and Rex Grossman who has vagina (no offence to any of my readers who actually have vaginas).

I’m a pseudo Georgetown season ticket holder in that I’ve got the hook up to go to pretty much any game I want to go to at any time during the season.  I won’t be partaking in that hook up next year as I’m boycotting that shit because Gtown is bunch of Choke Artist.  Fuck Georgetown!

The Nationals (who sometimes forget to put the “O” in their name, fools)  signed the greatest rookie pitcher in the last 50 yrs and paid him $15Million even though to date he has done nothing yet.  He will fail miserably this I promise you.  Why?  Because he’s here in DC and DC sports are trash!  Fuck!!!

All of these fools have been letting me down since I was 12 years old ( the last Redskins Superbowl victory).  I give up on all of them… until next season when I promise you the Redskins will be 14-2 and win the Superbowl and the Hoyas finish 27-3, win the Big East and then the National Championship.  You heard it here first people!  Write it down!  2011 is DC’s year!

And stop sending me hateful emails and text about the Hoya’s losing yesterday.  I get it you bastards!  I saw the game!

RS

Holistic Health... RS

Warning… this is not my normal funny type of blog about how my life is a disaster...  Well I guess it kind of is…

I hope this comes off right and for the first time in my life I don’t mean to offend…  Well, yes I do…

Although I don't love my job... my company is very good.  Every week they host some kind of Holistic Life seminar to promote life balance.  They encourage employees to attend as many of these as possible and all but mandate that we attend one per qtr.  I think that's great.  This might be the first company I’ve worked for that gave a damn about its people.  I've been here six months and  yesterday I went to my second seminar.  It was on “Eating Right for your Body Type”.  I'm into health and fitness so that was right up my alley...

So I walk in... and it’s me and two white guys (I’m a Black Male if this is your first time reading this blog)... and every black/overweight female administrative assistant in the company.  Now I have no issues with Black women specifically and I have no issue with overweight people.  Many of you who know me know that I myself used to be overweight.  But I can’t stand Black people when they embarrass me in public by virtue of simply being "Black"... 

These women talked through the whole presentation and had an adverse comment about everything the poor presenter had to say...  "Oh black people don't do this and we don't do that...  We don't eat like that... we don't cook like that... we can’t workout like that…  it’s not in our culture, etc…"  On and on for the entire hour! 

Meanwhile back at the ranch... the poor woman giving the presentation IS A BLACK WOMAN!!!!  I could not get out of there fast enough.  It was killing me having to sit there and listen to excuse after excuse for not trying to better yourself.  I spent most of the time thinking to myself… Why the hell did you even come here today anyway?  To waste this poor woman’s time?  To kill and hour of work?  Clearly it wasn’t to better yourself.

When I left I wanted to stop and apologize to the speaker for my people’s behavior... but then I remembered... I'm a Dark Indian named Tonto Jenkins who makes war clubs and spear.... so I simply walked out of the room in shame...

Am I out of line people?  Am I asking too much?  Am I missing something there.  Let me know.  I’d love to get some feedback.  I promise to be funny again in my next blog…

RS

Avoidance.... RS

For the last two business days I have managed to duck my boss entirely....  Good days for me.  However this morning.... when I got on the elevator... there that mother fucker was....  Goddamnit!!!!!

Him: "RS, I haven't seen you in days.  Have you been avoiding me?"

Me:  "Yes, yes I have actually."

Awakware silence.  Doors open.  I walk out and never looked back....

I will get fired today...
RS

Not as good as I used to be.... LB

I become more and more like my mother with each passing day.  One painfully obvious moment was just last week. 

Before we go there we must take a small trip down memory lane. 

Picture it: 
Christmas 1991, I had just gotten the Super Nintendo game system and my mother had challenged me to a game of super mario kart.  I was killing her!  Slaughtering her!  It was glorious!  After a thorough beating my mother puts down her controller and says.  "You may have me in this, but I am the queen of jacks"  She them pulls out this dusty squede pouch from the kitchen (I always wondered what was in that thing) and began to challenge me in a game as old as the sweet saviour himself.  I said "You can't compare JACKS to the superior gaming experience that is Super NES."

Fast forward to last week...
I was on the phone with a dear friend and had expressed my desire to get a PS3 (that is Play Station for those non gamers) instead of a blue ray player.  My friend replied something to the effect that I shouldn't bother because I suck at video games.  I replied, "Suck as video games, my Tetris scores are off the richter"  My friend pretty much shut down that conversation by saying "I don't believe you just used your Tetris scores to prove your need for a PS3." (those may not have been the exact words but that was the gist.  Actually the real gist is that I am a loser... hence the need for this blog. 

I might as well throw out the old Birth Control packs and start pushin out babies, cause when it comes to video I'm on straight mom status!

Darn shame really.

LB

"Who are you?" "I'm Batman..." RS

Yesterday I went to the barber shop to get my hair cut.  This is not a process that I typically take any joy in at all.  I hate waiting in line.  I hate listening to all of the hip hop gossip that I have little or no interest in.  “When is Lil Way gonna go to jail?”   I don’t care.  “When is so and so gonna drop their new album?”  I don’t care!!  The only thing I do enjoy about its is during football season when I get to talk shit about how my Redskins will crush whoever they are playing.  I do on Saturdays during the season because if I went on Sunday I would simply get made fun of because my team in counterfeit.  But I digress…

I tried to pay as little attention as possible as I sat there listening to Meet the Press on my Ipod.  There are just more important things going on in the world than whether or not the neighbors know Trey Songz name or not.  But just when I think this is just going to be another day at the shop… it happens…

Batman walks up in that mother fucker…  Yes, Batman…  The Caped Crusader…

By that I mean some fool walked in with an actual Utility Belt!!!  Four, maybe five cell phones all in belt holders hanging from this guys belt.  At least two regular pagers clipped to that very same belt.  And old school Time Port 2 Way Pager that dropped out of rap videos back in 2001 (I got rid of mine last summer but to my credit it hasn’t been activated since 2004).  This man also had a Swiss Army Knife or a utility tool of some kinds that I can’t even begin to fully describe and what seemed to be some kind of a nail filing set complete with mirror.  There was so much technology hanging from his waist that he has to have testicular cancer from all of the radio waves by now if he didn’t already have it already.

While all of that was disturbing and made him look rather foolish it was the grappling hook that really took the cake.  This dude actually had a grappling hook hanging from his belt.  Who the hell has a grappling hook hook?  I sold mine back in 2007 and replaced it with pair of suction cups.

I swear this fool all but kicked in the door to the shop like somebody's hero and stood there in the door with his hands on his hips staring all of us down like we where the Joker, the Riddler and Two Face.  He looked like a circus clown standing there with his belt lighting up like Marry Go Round and his knives and self propulsion devices shimmering in the light.

Now, I’m not one to make fun of people as I myself am a complete and total disaster… but who the hell is this guy and why isn’t is possible for him to just give out one phone number?  Maybe I’m seeing this the wrong way.  Can I get some help from the congregation?

RS

The Painfully Obvious… RS

This blog is going to be horrible… but I’m putting it out there anyway…

In this current economy I am certainly just as happy as the next guy to have a job.  Unemployment is nearly 10% and I’m the first one to admit that I’m no one special.  I could be gone tomorrow and no one would even notice.  I mean the last thing I want is to see my little girl wearing tattered and torn up clothing while standing in line at the soup kitchen because Daddy ain’t shit. 

But just because I’m thankful to have my job doesn’t mean that I like this shit so I’m always on the lookout for something new.  Yesterday morning I got reacquainted with an old associate who works in Human Resources for a company that I would have some interest in if given the opportunity.  The best part is that this individual reached out to me…  That’s always a plus!

I told him what I do, what my strengths are, what I like to do and what I think I think I would be best at.  I even explained to him the facets of my current job that make me unhappy.

After a 30 minute conversation, this fool came back with… “Well the first thing you need to do is updated your resume…”

SLAM ON THE BREAKS!!!!!  THROW THAT SHIT IN REVERSE!!!!!  BACK THE FUCK UP!!!!!

After thirty minutes of conversation this clown comes back with updated your resume!  He has not even seen my resume yet and he suggests that I need to update it already… which means one thing to me…  This fool is a talking head with simple talking points.   He probably wasn’t even listening to me.  And what’s worst?  That was pretty much the end of the conversation.  He didn’t have much more for me.  Why did you even bother to reach out to me with that shit?

While it may make since that my resume may need tweaking for certain jobs… how stupid is that response really?  If you are looking for a job of course you need to update your resume.   How about some suggestion on how?  How about a few suggestions on what I might need to focus on and who I might want to talk to…  No…?  That all you got man?  Nothing more?

That got me thinking about other painfully obvious stupid shit idiots could say to you in your time of need.   Below I have compiled a small list.

Statement:  I’m fat and sloppy.  Help!

Response:  Hmmm… Maybe you should workout…

Rebuttal:  Great!!!  How about a workout plan?  Maybe show me a thing or two in the gym?  No…?  That’s cool.  I’ll just workout.  I’ll be over at the bench press trying to hurt myself if you need me.

Statement:  I’m in middle of the desert and I’m dying of heat exhaustion and starvation.  Help!

Response:  Hmmmm…  You should probably try to cool off and get something to eat and drink.

Rebuttal:  Great!!!!  Perhaps your dumb ass could point me to a cactus to suck water from or perhaps a recently dead camel that I could tear the flesh from and eat while sucking the humps dry…  Seen any trees I could stand under for shade?  No…?  Oh don’t worry about then.  I’ll just hold my hand over my face and drink my own sweat.  After that I’ll eat one of my own fingers.

Statement:  Hey, I’m drowning over here.  Help…

Response:  Hmmmm…  Maybe you should get out of the water.

Rebuttal:  Good call dick!  Any idea of how I might do that seeing as how I’m fucking drowning over here.  Maybe you could toss me a life preserver or even a tree branch.  No…?  Ok, no big deal then.  I’ll just try to get out of this water that I’m drowning in.  While I do that could you please grab my towel?  No…?  Don’t worry about it then.

Statement:  Yo, I’m trapped underneath of this car.

Response:  Wow.  You should probably try to get from underneath of that thing.  Man that shit looks heavy. 

Rebuttal:  Good idea.  I think I’ll try to get from underneath of this car…

Now you know that last rebuttal was as fuckin stupid as the response.  So my question is when you tell me to update my resume what should my response actually be?

Response:  Ahhh… Good idea.  I will update it.  I will change the date ahhhh…..

I’m reminded of a scene in John Milton’s Paradise Lost.  In the opening sceen Satan is trapped in the fires of Hell for 10,000 years after being defeated by God.  He cries out to his right hand man (whose name I forget) that he wants out.  To which his friend replies “We’ll let’s get outta here.”  Then they get up and leave.  You mean after 10,000 years you didn’t think to just try to get up and bounce?

Foolishness!!!!

Am I being too obtuse here people?  Please let me know.  Drop me some comments.  Maybe I’m out of line but isn’t all that shit painfully obvious?

RS

Please pass the tissues... LB

There's nothing like being a woman. You know like having the ability to pee standing up. Market value salaries.  The ability to lift heavy objects without the fear of breaking a nail or the ability to grow facial hair without judgement. OH WAIT... That's men... yea being a girl sucks!

With the amount of estrogen seething through my pores it causes issues - to say the least! The worst occasion happened to be when I cried while driving home from work at a Wachovia radio commercial for identity theft. For some reason knowing that Wachovia had my back if I were to become a victim was too much for my heart to handle.

Yesterday afternoon, I come home and as usual immediately turn the tv on. I happen to stumbled upon a jif peanut butter commercial and by the end I could feel the tears welling up. I have included the commercial because I want you to see how much this is NOT a tear jerker. Yet for some reason, my body rebels against my brain and I can feel the tears welling up.




But the worst commercial and the one I personally think has ruined Sarah Mclachlan career is her animal cruelty commercial. Whenever her song "Angel" comes on all I can see and hear are abused dogs. If I see the commercial come on I turn the channel and never come back.  Simply, because I know I'll be seeing abused dogs for the entire show.  I officially HATE that song and that commercial.  But of course I've included it for your viewing pleasure. 

And just as an FYI.... Estrogen has also ruined the following for me...

• Annual Dog Show
• Almost every episode of Grey's Anatomy
• ET - which I still refuse to see it because I know I will cryThat insurance commercial where people do nice things for each other.  

But I'm hoping I'm not alone in this... I realize most of what I write on this blog is never read, but for the 3-4 die hard fans who read this blog on a semi-regular basis... Write in and share the commercials and movies or whatever that have ruined your life. 

LB

LB's housekeeping tip #001

Have guests coming unexpectedly?  Here's what I do to create a great inviting smell to welcome people as they come to visit. 

Forget candles, infusers or incense.  Head for the fridge and cook some bacon!  It works as a snack to help you keep up your energy as you entertain your guests and nothing is more inviting than the smell of fresh cooked bacon.

HGTV ain't got nothing on me!
LB

Playing Hard to Get... LB

To best understand this post, you will need to read yesterday's.  Here's the link 

So it turns out that things are not always as they seem. Funny enough, the man who sexyily (is that a word?) threw my heavy box into the car was in fact my new neighbor. HE LIED. HE LIED not only to me, but TO MY MOMMA!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG… WTF… and a few other acronyms I can’t think of right now.


OK highly attractive man who lives right down the hall from me. How would you think that I wouldn’t figure out! You live right down the hall from me. WTF!
I just got rejected and HARD! REAL HARD! I realize that I only look like Halle Berry when the room is highly shaded, but still. Lying sir… only makes me want you harder!
This is real folks, cue Hi-Five song. “He’s playing hard to get, he’s playing… but he likes me… he likes me!”

Special Addendum:
I told my mother that there was a man who moved into the apt down the hall. She suggested I bring him pie, but left some important words for me as well. She said, “LB, before you bring the pie, make sure to shave your face!” Good lookin’ out mom. She always has my back!

LB

New Neighbor... LB

Currently, in my lovely apt building I am the only tenant on my floor.  But just yesterday, there were movers bring stuff into an apt down the hall from me. 

There were two men dressed in movers gear while a third much more attractive man oversaw the work.  As I walked past him to take out my trash he kindly greeted me. 

I took a quick assessment.  No ring, attractive, nice build, can obviously afford movers and polite.  SCORE!  I threw out my trash and hightailed it back to my apt, for some personal renovations!  I quickly did my hair, threw on some make-up and smothered myself in scented lotion.

When my mother came by the apartment later on that day she also noticed the cute new neighbor and true to form had already chatted him up before she even got to my door. 

The minute she came into my place she said, "I saw your new neighbor he's cute!"  I answered very nonchalantly, "Yea, I think I said hello to him earlier"

As my mother and I left my apt we took with us a large box that required both of us to carry.  Without missing a beat my mother, sees the new neighborman and exclaims, "You're a big strong man, why don't you help me and my daughter carry this to our truck."

The man took that big box with one hand and tossed it on his shoulders.  I was so turned on, I wanted to hump his leg right there in the hallway! 

As he loads the box effortlessly into the trunk my mother asks, are you the one moving into the apartment.  He answers, "No Ma'am" 

"No Ma'am!"  In just that instant the look on both our faces change.  We ignored him for the rest of the afternoon.  The disappointment hung thick in the air.  Worst part, what moved in was some chick with a yappy dog I wanna kick in the throat everytime I see it.      

LB
PS... I hope my new neighbor never reads this post!

40 Days of Lent... RS

I grew up Catholic although I'm not really practicing anymore.  During Lent Catholics famously give up something special or important to them for a 40 day time period which I believe symbolizes the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert when he was tempted by Satan.

While on the phone with my mother on Fat Tuesday (the day before Lent starts) she asked me what I was giving up for Lent.  At that point I told her that I have decided to give up being an miserable, angry human being...

Silence... before bellowing laughter....

"You can't make it one day without being angry about something or angry at someone.  We both know that."

I have no idea what that woman said the rest of the conversation because she could barely compose herself.

Thanks for being supportive of me Mom...

RS

From the mouths of babes... LB

My friends kids call me Uncle Leslie.  I do not bother to correct them. 
Children are honest and they call it as they see it.

LB

Smells like what.... LB

I suffer from chronic foot in mouth syndrome. 

One oarticularly gruesome flare up was during a funeral.  The service was over and everyone was leaving the cemetery.  I was in the car with the family, crackin jokes attempting to make everyone laugh.  I had everyone in the car laughing hysterically at what... I don't remember.  But then the foot in mouth syndrome hit. 

It was summer, so the car windows were down and what wafted in was one of the worst odors I've ever had to smell.  The first words out of my mouth were... wait for it... "UGH!  It smells like dead people in here."  Everyone just stopped for a second.  I was honestly contemplating jumping out the car window at the next light. 

The rest of the ride home was completely silent. 

Foot in Mouth 1286 / LB 0

LB

Lil Wayne on Line 1... RS

With the exception of me, my office team is fairly homogenous.  I’m pretty much the only dark spot up in this building.  Having worked in Corporate America for the better part of the last decade this is nothing to new to me and I’m really not bothered by it.  I don’t even notice it anymore… until some bullshit happens. 

So last Friday a girl on my team who is of the Caucasian persuasion wanted to exchange cell phone numbers because we had a big project due on Monday.  It seemed as if some weekend work was going to have to be done in order to finish the project, hence the exchange of the digits.  No problem.  She gave me her number and told me to call her right there so she would have mine... I did... And instead of a regular ring I heard…  wait for it… Lil Wayne… bumping through  the phone speakers.  She didn't hit the end button.... She just let it play....  I could see her thought process unfolding in her head....

"RS will think I'm hip and see that I have street cred.  He will recognize my gangsta and invite me into the black realm…"   

She stood there looking at me as if she was waiting for me to start bobbing my head and maybe dropped a few bars of my gangsta freestyle on her ass (or lack thereof).  I gave her none of it.  I didn’t even acknowledge that the song was playing.  I simply asked… “you got it?”  She acknowledged and walked away seemingly dejected. 

The really sad part about all this is that I never questioned her gangster.  Sever months back she successfully taught our boss to do the Stanky Leg in the hallway…  far better than I could have (see previous blog http://deuxlosers.blogspot.com/2009/11/office-dancing.html).

My life is a dumpster fire… 

RS

Singles Awareness Day ... LB

I just wanted to start by saying I do not recognize the holiday you call Valentines Day. What I do recognize is its sister holiday, Singles Awareness Day (SAD). I haven't actually recognized the holiday since 2nd grade.

Let me give you a run down of my V-Day experiences (there’s only 3)

2nd Grade
I was just a wee lass then, happily exchanging assorted valentines cards with candies stuck inside. When one little boy came up to me and said happy Valentine's Day and tried to come in for a kiss. I said "Ewww! You can't kiss me, you smell like cheese crackers"

Sidebar... He really did and I really do hate the smell of cheese crackers. You know the ones. They are Orange and have peanut butter in them. UGH GROSS!

Apparently, this really hurt his feelings and I was forced to stand in the corner and apologize. I do not see the justice in that. I was simply defending my right to not get cooties from a boy who smelled like cheesecrackers. 

Additional Sidebar... I spent a LOT of time in that corner staring at the chipping of the paint on the walls.

Update on cheesecracker boy:  I ran into his mother a little while ago and she told me ever since that incident he made her put cologne in his bath water. He is happily married now with a couple of kids. (He can thank me for that!)

First Boyfriend
I've actually never had an official Valentine. Never seemed to stay in a relationship long enough to experience it. (Don't cry for me Argentina) The closest I've ever come is with my very first boyfriend. We actually met after V-Day. We were on the phone and he was eating chocolates. Apparently, his V-Day had not gone so well. And as he sat on the phone eating the V-Day chocolates, meant for someone else, he said to me. If I had known you on V-Day, these would have been for you. He then proceeded to polish off the whole box during the rest of our phone conversation.

That moment was prob the single most romantic experience I had ever had.

Currently

I spend most Single Awareness Days with Ben and Jerry and a good movie (or whatever I've DVR'd over the past week.) This year was no different. As I sat on my living room furniture… i.e lawnchair (the doll furniture is on back order) catching up on old episodes of Modern Family and Burn Notice I realized, even if I was in a relationship the only thing that would change would be that the number of lawnchairs sitting in my living room eating Ben & Jerry's would increase by one.  

I Hate Valentines Day... RS

First of all, FUCK Valentine's Day!!!

That being said, last year I decided to spend a few hundred bucks of my hard earned cash to try to show my girlfriend a good Valentine’s Day Weekend. 

I decided on shopping and dinner in Georgetown.  Best combination of both on planet Earth if you ask me.  We got dressed up and hit M St. like we had money to burn.  We were in and out of shops and boutiques all afternoon before having a nice dinner at a great restaurant in the city. 

After all of that I did my best to keep her away from her cell phone because the last thing I needed was one of her friends calling her to tell her how great their man had treated them.  If that happens you spend the rest of the night getting compared to some fool you don’t even know.  With that done… I had made it through another V Day.

But wait, you knew that wouldn’t be the end.  The next morning she told me that she had a surprise for me.  Wow.  This is an interesting turn of events.  I certainly didn’t see this coming, but I liked the sound of it.

When we got in the car I finally gave in and asked where we were going and what her surprise was.  I didn’t expect her to tell me but I decided that I would play along.  This would prove to be a costly mistake.

"We are going to Couples Therapy...." she said....  "I think it’s long over due..."

HIT THE BREAKS.... STOP.... BACK THE FUCK UP...!!!!  WHAT??????

What the fuck did you just say???  We are going where and doing what?  For a brief moment it was as if the world around me had actually stopped moving.  The cars around us froze.  Birds stopped flying in mid air.  The wind ever stopped blowing.  It actually stopped blowing!  I could feel the anger starting to bubble up inside of me.  It wasn’t a slow burn either.  It was almost instantaneously a raging forest fire from Hell.  Within seconds I had already started plotting ways to kill this woman slowly.  Slow was key!  It was important that she have time to suffer adequately and gain a through understanding of how treachery and dishonesty do not go unpunished. 

Are you kidding me...?  After two days and nearly $300 of my hard earned cash this chick dreams up the absolutely ridiculous notion that it would be a good idea to pull me into couple’s therapy, thus implying that I have problems that need to be solved!!!  Is she nuts....?  Does she have any idea of what I'm capable of?  Does she even know who she’s dating?  Where did this courage and desire to die a slow, painful death come from?  Was she looking to become some sort of mythological martyr for women across the globe on Valentine’s Day? 

I was steaming on the inside.  I tried to appear as if I was all in favor of this therapy thing but I was failing miserably.  I could feel me face getting red with anger and hatred.  I looked down my fist were balled up, my knuckles where completely white.  I had even accidentally dug my nails into the palms of my hands.  I was trapped and there was no place for me to go.  My only option was to jump out of the car and tried to kill myself. But then she would not receive the suffering she was due.

We stopped at a stop light that seemed to stay red for hours.  Sitting in silence I stared at her with malice.  I could tell she wasn’t feeling so good about her plan anymore.  Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her hands were shaking.  This brought quite a bit of joy to me and for a brief moment softened my rage.  She realized that this was the worst idea since Eve bit the apple.  It had dawned on her that this could very well be the end of her.  After what seemed like hours, the light finally turned green.

We pull into the parking lot after a 15 minute drive having said practically nothing the entire time.  My mind had switched gears from bringing an end to this woman’s life to how to make this therapy session a positive for me.  It came to me quickly.  I thought about all the shit she does that I hate and why.  My new plan was to walk in and blast the therapist with this information first!  I would make this session about her issues and not mine.  Striking first was key.  Anger seethed off of me.  I got out of the car and followed the little lamb to slaughter.

 

We got to the front desk and the receptionist handed me a clip board to fill out some personal information.  Good Lord.  Not only do I have to spill the intimate details of my relationship to a stranger but first I have to write all the shit on a piece of paper to be put in some filing cabinet.  More anger… more seething…

I started filling out the form but the questions seemed rather odd.  How stressful is your job?  How physical is your profession?  You often do you exercise?  Where do you hold the stress in your body?  This shit wasn’t making any sense to me... until I looked at the top of the form and read the letter head.  It was then that I realized that my evil girlfriend had brought me to...  Massage Envy... for Couples MASSAGE Therapy....

Fuck....  She got me.  And what’s worst was she knew she got me.  She knew I was furious and just sat there and let it ride.  I can’t believe I fell for that shit.  I guess I got what I deserved. 

Fuck Valentine’s Day and everything it stands for.

I hate my new apt... LB

I really hate my apartment!

On the real folks... moving is for the birds.  The next time I decide to move from one apt to the next I am going to burn everything I own and start from scratch.  Taking with me only my purses and shoes and assorted lip glosses as I have an addiction to them all.

I signed the lease on what is the 2nd smallest apt in Philadelphia, PA.  On the surface it looks nice, but when you actually spend more than 2 minutes inside you see the dream slowly unravel.  I should have known things weren't right, the day I recieved the keys.  As that was the day I learned I had NO WATER.  (that was only AFTER a trip to the bathroom)  Oh yea, and none of my appliances work. 

See, what had happened was.  I rented the model apartment.  So it included a few more bells and whistles than the other units.  But like most models, it was all a front.  None of the existing appliances were hooked up to plumbing or even plugged in.  I also had doors that didn't open, because this apartment was never intended to be lived in.  That was until they sold it to me! 

But I can't blame them, I used the same rationale to rent this apartment as I do for clothing and shoes.  Can I fit in it? Most importantly, does it look good?  Perhaps next time I will come up with a different set of criteria. 

This picture is a clear and precise depiction of how big my place is.  My apt is the small little room on the side where the little pink arrow is pointing to and that llittle girl, represents God having a good laugh at me. 

Lets start with my kitchen

My fridge:  I've seen coolers with no ice in the middle of a july cookout keep food cooler than this thing.  My freezer only keeps meats, vegetables and icecream cool - NOT FROZEN!  My freezer smells like the meat section of one of the questionable markets in bad neighborhoods.  Whenever you open the freezer it actually smells like warm meat. 

Moving onto the living room

The problem is not the size of my living room.
(pictured to the left.)
I have attempted TWICE to have furniture delivered to my apt.  Both attempts failed miserably.  Mainly because my apt is not life sized.  Two adults could not fit inside the same room of my apt comfortably.  (unless they were naked and had planned on rubbing against each other with every move they make)

The problem is this.  Please refer to picture below.  Don't let this picture fool you it is very inaccurate.  The blue arrow depicts my front door which could be no wider than about a foot.  The second red arrow is the entry way into my kitchen which is actually NARROWER than the front door.  The angle makes it look quite opposite.  Due to the space  - most couches need to come through both entry ways in order to pivot into the living room but when you have Alice in wonderland sized doors.  It makes that impossible.   

Considering my current dilemma,  I found a solution... doll furniture! I saw this finely crafted doll furniture online.  It's longest piece is about 6 inches long, and I think, with good spacial planning I can work it out.  I found this lovely set below for only $45.95 plus shipping and handling.  The couch length is equivalent to half a $5 footlong subway sandwich.    I really think it's a steal!  I also heard pottery barn kids is having a sale on bean bag chairs. 

 Currently this is the only piece of REAL SIZED living room furniture I own...  This lawnchair is the bomb.  I'm considering just buying a few more of these.  It's like being at an outdoor concert... everyday!

All in all, I cry every night, because I live in a sham of a apartment.  Month after month I pay for appliances that don't work.  A flat screen I will never be able to truly enjoy because I have no furniture to watch it on and my security alarm goes off in the middle of the night for no reason.  Causing me to wake up ready to kill only to find it was a false alarm.   

LB

Who would have guessed... LB

I bought a new wireless router for the apartment.  The first one was a dud.  Thanks Walmart! 
I repurchased the same router from Best Buy.  Lo and Behold... it was working a lot better than first.  It was still not functioning but at least the lights turned on for this one. 

So I call my friendly international technical assistance.  Yes this man was definitely Indian.  A lot of people have very strong opinions about overseas customer service agents.  But I will say this for the record.  I believe that India is the SMARTEST nation in the world.  I do not know how anything I own would function if there wasn't some sweet knowledgeable techincal assistant rep to make it work after I broke it.   But I digress. 

I thought I was going to have to replace the second router after it too failed to function.  But turns out, I had changed the name of the network to something that was not compatible.  Apparently, NO DIGGITY NO DOUBT, is not a suitable name for the router.  Although I feel he is grately mistaken!
What even worse is when you have to spell out that name to the internation customer service agent.  N-as-in-Nancy O-as-in-Oh maybe-I-shouldn't-have-named-it-this.  As is is extremely hard to keep a straight professional tone over the phone when you're laughing at having the customer service agent repeat back your stupid network title.

LB

Independent Woman…

Many of you may be wondering… where’s LB been.

The answer is… in apartment hell.

I am for the first time living independently no parents, no roommate just me!   Now that we've got the good stuff out the way, lets bring our attention back to the oh so many things that go wrong.  Today's story is about my first big purchase for the place... My new bed frame.

Yea that's the bed alright... It's a lot more comfortable than it looks!

My bed is wonderful,  a comfortable, cozy hideaway retreat as I call it. But me and the bed were not always on such loving terms. I purchased this bed from … and don’t judge me… IKEA! I have a love/hate relationship with that store. But I went against all good sense and bought the bed. The instructions CLEARLY stated, two people are required to complete the construction of this purchase. I did not belive them, but I should have. Even getting the pieces out of the box were difficult. But none the less I had perceivered. After 8 hours (the box called for 2hr assembly with two people) I was finished. I simply fell back on the bed arms up in a sense of triumph and female empowerment. (cue: Independent woman song playing in my head) When All of a sudden I heard a crack, followed by a snap, and about 3-4 pops and I was suddenly on the floor. The bed had crumbled underneath me. I wanted to cry. Instead I kicked the bed and jammed my toe. Then I cried! (cue: Whitney Houstons - Why Does it Hurt So Bad)

The next day I got all Bob Villa on it and installed steel beams underneath the bottom of the bed for added support. Yeah, that’s right! I did it! (cue: Independent woman song once again playing in my head) I promise you it’s been the best sleep I’ve had ever since.

Take that IKEA. (Mind you, with my “added improvements” I have voided the warranty so this thing better last me 5 years or I’m screwed. So actually, now that I think about it… IKEA just got me…. AGAIN!) Damn the Swiss!