Saturday, June 28, 2008

Freedom of Speech or Freedom of Stupidity?

Can you believe that this security guard, at one of the biggest trauma hospitals in Philadelphia made a video telling people how to kill Police Officers?

Not only did he make the video, but he had his twelve year old son holding the camera as he went off his idiotic tirade.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am all about free speech, but this is taking things a bit far. The video was pulled from Youtube, but not before they Philadelphia police used a battering ram to make entry into the man's house and take his dumb ass to jail for making terrorist threats and aggravated assault. Now, I don’t see the aggravated assault charges going anywhere; I know it wouldn’t hold weight here in Texas, but his ass did need to go to jail.
I am also not an advocate of people necessarily losing there jobs, but I think it was merited when the hospital suspended homeboy from his four year tour as a security officer.

I know I am going to get a bunch of rants from a lot of you who will cop bash and say that police are no better than anybody else, and that may very well be true. And some of you will make the ignorant comment about “leave it to a cop to appose free speech” or some shit like that. To you I say. “Fuck you!” My job is hella hard enough! I get to read about officers getting called out to areas only to be ambushed and killed and just yesterday we had an officer get harmed in a shoot out. And every time I put on my uniform, which I will be doing once I finish typing up this rant, I know about all the potential dangers that I will have to face and I face them gladly to try to get some of our more violent offenders off the street, if only for a short period of time. That said the last thing I need is some idiot, an idiot who wears a similar uniform, going on line and encouraging weak-minded individuals to use violence to solve whatever issues they have with the police. That shit is just crazy, and if you sympathize with him then your ass is crazy too!
Yeah, I said it…Now let the comments begin. (I Promise not to censor anyone, but let’s not get too rude or vulgar.)

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

And to think I was going to post on the lady who went into the 7-11 and bought two dollars worth of gas. TWO DOLLARS! Where the hell you gonna go on two dollars worth of gas? Didn’t it take two dollars worth of gas just to start the ignition? C’mon now!

Friday, June 27, 2008

I Gotta Question

I gotta a question for you. If you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that a good friend of yours’ spouse was having an affair, would you tell them? Better yet, would you want (expect) a person you considered a good friend to tell you if they knew that your spouse was cheating on them?
I had this talk once, with a male friend of mines and he told me implicitly that he would not want to even know if his spouse was having an affair. He thought nothing good would come of it. I was like, whatever. If I was in a relationship and you knew and I mean knew that my significant other was taking the dick else where, I would damn sho’ wanna know. And I would be pissed off if I found out and knew that your ass knew and didn’t at least give me the heads up.

This friend of mines, who will remain nameless (I probably shouldn’t have even specified sex) found out that, unbeknownst to him, that he was involved in open marriage. Ain’t that some shit? The funny part about it was that when he told me the news about this ongoing affair, I told him that I had heard a rumor that his spouse had been having an affair. I told him that I didn’t tell him because I had not proof, but mainly because he’d told me a long time ago that he wouldn’t want to know about such shenanigans. Do you know that his motherfucker pretty much called me a liar about having heard the rumors? I was pissed.

First of all, I don’t lie (not about serious shit). Second of all, why would I lie to you about something that would hurt you? What kind of friend do you think I am? And I know damn well that I am not that kind of friend.

Anyway, I now believe/know that a good friend of mine’s spouse is having an affair. Or at least I know he has being getting blow jobs and possibly having anal sex with at less one female that is not his wife. I can’t tell yall how I know this, but I might to another “I gotta question” post, sometime down the line, that might give you a clue as to how I know about these various sexual escapades. Anyway, the dilemma is to tell or not to tell? I really don’t know. It is a hard choice to make.


Yall know damn well why!

One, because I can’t really prove it. I could have but I let that opportunity slip by.

Two, because I hate when relationships/marriages break up. Even though I am not in one, I would like to see people stick it out and make the shit work. Just call me a hopeless romantic.

Three, because these things rarely work out well for the person who tells. They are always the ones who are turned again and resented, when all they are try to do is help. (Yall know it’s true.)

So there you have it. I am stuck. I have this secrete and I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t tell anyone, because you just never know who you can truly trust. I guess I could discuss it with Sgt. Lupe, but to be honest, she isn’t much help in these matters. She is more about helping start the drama then calming it down.

Speaking of Sgt. Lupe, last night her and I covered one of her troops in the park. He had this 27 year old man, stopped in the park with this 13 year old girl. (she told him she was 19) They hadn’t done anything. The girl, I guess, could have passed for 19 physically, but not mentally. The officer cuts the guy some tickets and we that the lying little hussy home (and yes, she was a hussy). She was dressed in short, short with an over sized t-shirt that made it look like she was wearing only a t-shirt and panties. She was bare foot and didn’t have on a bra. And trust me when I tell you that this little girl was well pass train bra status. Those puppies needed a whip and a chair.

Anyway, since she has lied about her name and her age more than one. She went from being 19, to 15 to 13 we needed to verify who she was. Of course, being a minor we were going to have to release her fast ass to an adult anyway. This little heifer doesn’t know, or claims not to know, anyone’s phone number, address, nothing. So, she takes us to where she is staying, with her aunt. In some apartments a few miles away from the park where she was found.
We follow her into the down stairs apartment (front door left unlocked), thinking that her aunt is going to be home. No such luck.

You know who was at home though? A two year old boy, sleep on the couch and a three year old girl sleep in the only bedroom. What the fuck? You know I was hot. I went off on that little girl so hard and fast. Do you know I went and cut myself a switch? Seriously. She is so damn lucky I couldn’t use it, but I told her that was what she needed and if she was just a teensy bit blood of mind, they’d have to pull me off her tail. I threatened to call child protective services on her and take all three of them down to there headquarters. She started crying, but I didn’t give a damn! How the hell you gonna get into a car with a grown ass man, and then leave two toddlers home alone, WITH THE DOOR UNLOCKED! Oh, I was hot.

She is so lucky Sgt. Lupe was there. They found another aunt to come pick them all up. And the little hussy didn’t even know the number to where her aunt, the kid’s mother, worked. We had to get that from an upstairs neighbor.

(Yeap, a CPS referral was still completed).

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Two post in one. You can’t get much better than that, huh? LOL

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Private Thoughts No More

I’m a very private person. I keep to myself and rarely open up about my private life, even to my closest of friends. Sure there have been the occasional deep, dark secretes that I have disclosed to at least two of the friends in my circle, but for the most part I keep everything about me bottled up. Safely locked behind closed door so that I might take them to my grave. I think it is because of this trait in me that people feel comfortable enough to open up to me and sometimes tell me things I really don’t want to know.

I personally believe that is the natural instinct of people, you know, to want to talk about themselves. I am completely the opposite. My theory is that you don’t need to know a damn thing about me, because I don’t know enough about you to trust that you want tell my business. I know, it’s a sucky theory, but it works for me. The reality is that no one can ever say that they know me because I have never felt close enough, safe enough, around anyone to completely open up to them. That being said, I have shared moments, memories and dreams with you could people that I have never shared with family or friend, because of the fear of being judged or misunderstood. I gotta say, for good or for bad, I feel like you people get me. You understand me and you are not going to try and spare my damn feeling by telling me something I want to hear. Some of you are going to give it to me, right out the ass. LOL

Anyway, for whatever reason, people sometimes trust me with things that I am meant to keep to myself, and I normally do. They were swear me to secrecy and I’ll be like, “who am I gonna tell.” Seriously, I am a homebody. I love to be by myself. Mo people, mo problems, I always say. It’s hard to cause drama with yourself. And I am not one to spread gossip. It is just not in me. I think it is because I know what harm it does. Once, Sgt. Lupe asked me if someone said something negative about her if I would tell her about it. I told her “no”, knowing that the answer she wanted to hear was “yes”. You see, Sgt. Lupe is one of those people who like to roll around in mess, like a dog will roll around on a rotten carcass, if you let it. “Nope, I would not tell you, Lupe. What good would that do? And why would you want me to tell you something that might possible hurt you or cause conflict. If someone is dumb enough to say something negative to me about you, knowing that I consider you to be a friend, then I would say what I could to defend you and move on. Telling you serves no purpose.” That is pretty much what I told her, in a nutshell. And I stand by that.

When I created this blog I did so out of my need to speak out on some of the stupid things that people that look like me do. Things that make the head lines and make us all look bad as a race of people, because people judge us by the actions of the people around us and not by what we do ourselves (did that come out right). Now, I am not exactly sure when it happened, but at some point during the growth of my blog I became the Nigger that I was asking people to look at. I found myself given complete strangers a glimpse into the private me. The me that I keep locked behind closed doors. The me that cusses, masturbates (I don’t masturbate), scratches his ass, and gets hemorrhoids. This blog allowed me to unleash the extrovert trapped within my introvert. It was fun.

The other thing it did was give me the opportunity, if I wanted, to talk about some of the things going on around me. I could let loose on some of the crazy things going on in the world of my friends, because you guys don’t know them and I wouldn’t feel like I was breaking a confidence. However, this weekend I stupidly shut the door on that part of my blog life, when I told two of my dear friends about this blog.

Now, although I change the names to protect the innocent, how can I possible feel free to talk about some of the things that my friends do that trouble me. How can I look for counsel in my blog buddies when I am afraid I might self consciously censor myself, so as not to break a confidence? One of the greatest things about the blog world is its anonymity and I have gone and tossed that all away.

Oh, what a dumb-dumb, chicken little.

I guess I’m going to have to go back to making fun of the high society, low class, brothers and sisters and the stupid things they do. “Kobe, tell me how my ass taste.”

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Tell Me How My Ass Taste

Tell me how my ass taste.

What is up with Kobe and Shaq that would make Shaq write a rap dissing Kobe and asking him to tell him how his ass taste? I am guessing that it taste like shit, but I could be wrong. It might taste like peanut butter for all I know. What I do know is that if you eat ass, you could catch hepatitis C. Did you know that? I don’t really know if that’s true, but while I was in Austin I heard a comedian say that this girl wouldn’t eat his ass until he’d been tested for hepatitis C. I figured is a comedian says it, it has to be true.

Anyway, back to Shaq and his weak ass, free style, rap. Sounds like sour grapes to me. Get over it, bitch. Nobody can be the cause of your marriage breaking up but you and your wife. Hell, if Kobe’s was able to survive the allegation of rape, then yours should have been able to survive whatever drama Kobe started regarding it. Face it, big man, you wanted out of the relationship and now you are using Kobe as a scapegoat, which is fine. You do you, just don’t be a bitch about it!

So now Maricopa County Sheriff, Joe Arpaio, has taken back the honorary deputy badges that he bestowed on to Shaq a couple of years back. Sheriff Arpaio, who is known for feeding in-mates green bologna and making them wear pink underwear, says he could not condone such conduct or the use of racial sayings. He says that he would have fired any one of his deputies for less. (who knew that Shaq had once served as a reserve officer with the Miami Beach Police Department?)

Shaq told ESPN that his rap was all in good fun, no harm no fowl. I my opinion he should have known that white folks don’t get black folk humor; unless it be Chris Rock. Let us not forget that it was a white journalist that thought that knuckle bump, what I now like to call the Barack O’bump, was some kind of terrorist hand gesture between Obama and his wife. Plus, words are powerful and, like it or not, Shaq is a role model to someone out there. It is sad, but when you are in a position where you are going to get a lot of exposure, especially during this age of media, you have to temper your fun with a little bit of common since. Words have power and one wants to know how your ass taste. Just like no one wanted to know that I had a hemorrhoid, but I am not famous, so I get away with it.

“Kobe, tell me how my ass taste.” If I was Kobe I’d have responded by saying, “Yo, Shaq, tell your wife to give yo dick back.”

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Bloody Messiness

Here we go again with all the bullshit. I come back for one day and am immersed in drama. Let me paint the picture for ya. The night starts off simple enough. I am able to complete about fifteen minutes of paper work before we have to go into detail. I go into detail at eleven, make sure everyone is there and give out any pertinent information for the watch. After detail I talk to a couple of my peeps and give them their special assignment for the night and letting my rookie in training know that I need to speak to him in private. While I am doing this the red-headed bitch comes into tell me that someone from one of the neighborhood associations wants to talk to a sergeant. Alright, so I tell her I’ll be there in a moment.

I gather my things and tell my rookie in training to follow me, I just need to handle the call quick, fast and in a hurry. As I walk out of the detail room and am about to go take the phone call I see Sgt. Grumpy Ole’ ass bitch (I forget what I called him in previous post), sitting up there on his ass. So I think, fuck that. Surely he has spoken to whoever called and if he hadn’t he would want to; I’m going to talk to my troop. This is my last day with him, since he trainer was being promoted to Sergeant and we need to get some things out of the way.

We are back in the Sergeants area for about fifteen minutes or so when Officer Red Headed Bitch comes stumping her big ass around the corner to ask if I ever handled the phone call she told me about. I tell her no and that I have no plan on doing so when Sgt. Ole Ass is sitting right there. So, she gives me this constipated ass look, like she’s the one with the hemorrhoid; (BITCH) turns and stalks away.


Less than a minute later Sgt. Ole ass comes charging back, like he all big and bad. I swear his old ass must have power walked his ass back to confront me, while I am still with my Rookie in training.

Ole Ass: The person on the line wants to speak with a patrol sergeant, over the twenties and I’m not a patrol sergeant! -Then he turns and storms off.
(No, this motherfucker did not just charge me up, is what I was thinking.) I just sit there, give one of Tam’s patented :blank stares: to the rookie, rap things up with him and then walk up front to take the call. I WAS PISSED. First off the guy on the phone, who sounded high as hell, just wanted to know if his extra patrol was still on file. How the fuck am I suppose to know? They should have just filled out another one. Second, it was for an area in South Dallas and that sergeant was there, not doing shit. Anyway, I took the guys information, told him that I would take care of it and stormed off.

Anyway, so now I am pissed. I can’t believe the bitch and the bastard have called me away from what I was doing for something so fucking petty, and plus I didn’t appreciate either of their attitudes so I decide to take it to the LT. Which I did.

We all go into the Lt’s office, shut the door and I voice my complaint. I let all parties involved know that I don’t mess with or disrespect anyone in the damn place and expect the same courtesy. Then there was a whole goes around in circle moment and I end up loosing my temper. Well, actually, I didn’t lose it. The damn thing ran away. I found it later, but it was too late. The damage had been done.
I think what pushed me over the edge was when Sgt. Grumpy Ole Ass lied on me. This is how it played out, and keep in mind, I am hell-a-loud by now.

Lt is sending Red Headed bitch out the office with her Sergeant and I pretty much don’t have anything else to say. My grievances have been brought to the table and now these motherfuckers know where they stand with me. In other words, don’t fuck with me and we’ll be all good. However, as he is getting up to leave Sgt GOA says: I just have one thing to say. In my twenty years here as a sergeant we have never had a problem with other sergeants taking phone calls and now he (meaning me) comes in and issues a memo saying how he will no longer take phone call.

Me: That’s a lie. I never once said I wouldn’t take any phone calls!!!!!

GOA: I know what the letter said and it said that you would not be taking any more phone call. Now I if you are okay with this Lt….(and I missed what else he said because I am already chiming in).

Me: You a lie! (and yes I did say, "You a", all education was out the door by this point) That is not what I said!!! I know what I wrote and plus I sent a copy of the email to the LT!!!! (Check your recipient list, asshole)

Lt: Well, maybe lie is too harsh a word, maybe we should call it a misunderstanding.

Me: No, he’s a lie and I’m not going to stand here and let him lie on me!!!! I know what I wrote!
LT: Well, can we agree to call it a misunderstanding?

Me: No, he’s lying and he knows he’s lying and I’m not going to let him sit there and lie on me!!!!!!!

Lt.: Well, it is about time for us to go into the second detail. We can finish this up afterwards, if you want.

-Once again, whatever. I'm done with it.-

Sgt. GOA is sitting in the sit next to the door, so I wait for him to get his ass up and go. He stands his wrinkled ass up, looks at me and grunts. I’m thinking, alright you old fuck, don’t think I want whoop your ass and piss on the remains. You don’t know me. You already done made me go stereotypical Angry Black Man up in here. Don't think I want put one of this size 11 1/2 up your ass.

Anyway, I was mad for a minute, which was cool. I used the heat to propel me quickly through the work I was so far behind on. Of course once I got over being mad I felt regret and wondered if I had over reacted. I am such a pussy. LOL

Ain’t yall glad yall don’t live in big D with all the little Drama parties we have going on between us. Yall know that shit is ridiculous. And here I go playing right along with it. Oh, and to top it all off, I find out that I have been accused of stopping some members of the Black Panthers, harassing their leader and taking his gun. Then I'm told that I release the guy, but keep his gun just for the hell of it.
First of all, if I take a gun off your ass and you don’t have a permit to carry it. you best believe you are going to jail, but that’s not the point of this mess. All this harassing of the Black Panthers happened this weekend. This weekend, people! Can someone tell me where I was this week end? My happy ass was all the way up in Austin, taking picture so a wedding. See how people lie. And this lying bastard mentioned me by name, and I am the only One Man on the department.
I love my life. Don’t it sound like fun. But hey…at least my hemorrhoid went away.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Monday, June 23, 2008

I Have A Hemorrhoid

I have a hemorrhoid. Is that too personal, informing you that I have a hemorrhoid? I was debating about if I should post this information or not, but I figured we all loved each other so much that yall would like to know. So here goes, I have a hemorrhoid. It’s just a small one but it still makes it difficult to wipe. LOL

I am laughing because this is the most personal thing I think I have ever written, but I am trying to make up for not sharing all the dirt that happened on the road trip.
I have not had a hemorrhoid in forever and I need that little bulb to go away.
As you are probably aware, hemorrhoids develop from any increase in pressure in the lower rectum. The five major causes are:

1. Constipation and straining to poop. (I have not been constipated in a long while. My poop flows like butter).
2. Sitting or standing for a long time, this could be it. I do sit for about five hours a day, at work, if not more.
3. Obesity. I am over weight, for my height, but I don’t think I have gotten to the point of Obese, yet.
4. Pregnancy and childbirth. Nope, this is not me.
5. Diarrhea and the continuous expulsion of loose stools. Houston, I think we have a winner. LOL.

It looks like the simplest home remedy is to get me some witch hazel, a topical anti-inflammatory agent and sit in a warm bath. Sounds like a plan to me. If the home remedy doesn’t work I’ll have to go to the doctor and let him have a gander up my neather regions. Not too embarrassing. I will keep yall informed. I am sure you would like to know.

Today’s post brought to you by One Man’s butt, and the makers of Tuck’s medicated pad. Remember, if it ain’t soothing then it ain’t Tucks. LOL

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

I really need to get back to the fucked up lives of the young, black and gifted. LOL

Adventures in Weddings

I am back and the trip was outstanding. Before I start let me just say that I mislead you fine folks just a tad, by saying that I would be the only brother at the wedding. The truth is my friend, let’s call her Nettie, husband, we’ll call him Budda, is from Africa. He is truly African-American. And he drives like he is from Africa too, whatever that means. He drove us all the was to Austin and my brother does not know how to respect his lane. It was so funny to see the expression of the drivers as we passed them or they broke ass to get pass us. It was not a look of anger either. It was like a look of pure terror. Very, very funny.

While we were driving there I get all the good juice on what is going on in the world of our friends and an update on what is going on in the world of the Nettie family. Some interesting stuff, but I refuse to share it with the world. Mainly because I made Nettie aware of my blog and I know she will read it. LOL.I am also made aware that we have hotel room issues. The issues is that the plans have fallen through and there is the possibility of us not having rooms at the Four Season. In the long run it worked out for “the good”. Remember when I said that I was concerned with the sleeping arrangements? Well, as it turned out they got me a room of my very own. How cool is that? (Above is the picture of the room I stayed in.)

The first day we went over to one of Nettie’s older brother’s house to celebrate his thirty fifth birthday. As soon as we enter the door we are greeted with smiles, hugs and nice to see you again (for me). I am immediately made to feel welcome, as if I am in the bosom of my own family. We eat drink and are merry until we get back to the hotel and that is when the drama begins. Drama that I will not write about, but it was true drama. I am not a drama person, I don’t think and neither is Nettie, so this level of drama caught me completely off guard, but lets just say we made it through.

The wedding was wonderful. It was at this cool outdoor Chapel. There was one moment of concern, when it just poured down rain. Luckily, by the time of the wedding it had all passed over and it was just your average, hot and humid day. The wedding was beautiful and Nettie’s sister made a beautiful bride. Everyone was happy, but it was so hot I was not able to take all of the pictures that I had scoped out territory for. I still took over four hundred shots, so there should be enough in that bunch to make a decent wedding album.

Over all Nettie’s family was the most warm and excepting families you ever want to meet. And the new in-laws were so very cool. We exchanged email addresses and phone numbers and stuff. I felt an immediate bond with them and trust me when I say that I am not that open to new people. Plus, I think I am a good judge of people and I can tell when people are just being polite and the friendship is not genuine. Oh, and get this. Before the wedding, Nettie’s sister gives me an envelop and tells me not to open it until I get home. I already know what it is and “no”. However, I do wait until I get back to the hotel to open it and sure enough there is a thank you card with a little something sumthing in it. I am flattered, but I can’t take it. I said I was going to do the pictures for free and I meant it. It is so like them to try to pay me, but they had to put my ass up in hotel rooms. I think that is payment enough. Plus, I enjoyed taking the damn pictures.

Over all I think a good time was had by all. Still, be it ever so humble, there is no place like home. Although my little sister did drive my car, which she was instructed not to do, and used up all my gas. I had at least two days of gas left in my baby and I left strict instructions for neither her or my brother to drive the damn thing. And then that heifer has the nerve to call and ask for me to pay my nephew’s daycare for the week. Can you believe that crap? Of course I say yes, because I can deny my nephew nothing. I’m really gonna have to get over that shit. LOL.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

ROAD TRIP, but not the good kind

I am so happy. My house is just like I want it…Clean. Now it might not be clean, clean to you neat freaks out there, but trust me when I say that it is One Man clean. My house has not been this clean since the Summer of 2004, when my friend from England came to stay with me. I am talking all my clothes are off the floor and folder or hung up. No dishes, dirty or clean are in the sink. No unused items in the icebox, toilet hand scrubbed to the point you could make Kool-aid in the bowl. Everything is done but the dusting, but fuck that. Whew, it was exhausting, but it was worth it. Hell, I started cleaning my house to get it this clean back on the first of January, this year. I finally made it.

Yeah, yall think I’m playing, but I am not. I do not have the clean gene. You know that gene that makes you detest the mess. My older sister has it. My aunt has it. I even think little Manny has it to a certain degree. But that bitch bypassed me. I live the life of Oscar Madison, of the Odd Couple. Literally. I keep a clutter mess of a house and of a car. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t rats and roaches messy, it is simply that I don’t know how to put shit away. When I walk in the door, my clothes are coming off and lay were they drop. Instead of throwing unwanted mail in the trash I drop it on the floor. When I do my laundry, instead of folding it right away, I leave it in an unorganized pile. Before too long it all just gets away from me.

Anyway, that is not what this post is about. Besides, it is clean now. It is clean and I am semi-ready for my road trip to Austin. Yeap, your boy is going on another car drive to another city in Texas, but this time it will be all grown ups and I will be sleep in the back seat. I am kind of ambivalent about the whole thing though. See, the purpose of this particular road trip is for me to be the photographer for a friend of minds’ sister’s wedding. My friend’s sister asked me if I would take the pictures for her wedding around this time last year. She thought I did such a good job with the pictures I’d taken for my friends wedding that she just had to have me. Whatever! I told her I would, a wedding gift from me to her. I know yall are thinking, “wow, that’s pretty generous of you, One Man.” Uh, no. All I do is take the picture, color correct and crop. It is up to them to get the damn things printed. Plus, if I fuck up these precious moments, I don’t want to hear shit, because you didn’t have to pay shit for my services. (LOL. Just kidding.)

The thing I am apprehensive about is the fact that the entire wedding party is going to be family. FAMILY, I said! I will be the only outsider in the group. Don’t get me wrong, I know these folks and they are cool and open and whatnot, but still. I will be odd man out. Plus, I will be sharing a room with my friend and her husband. LOL. What the hell! I’m not sure how cool I am with that arrangement, but I ain’t shelling out shit to stay at the Four Seasons either. So, I guess I’m going to have to make it work.

I’m thinking it is going to pretty much suck. I’m a home body, introvert and this family is party hearty extroverts. Those two things do not mix well for an extended period of time. I see them gathering around me singing, “Every party needs a pooper, that’s why we invited you.” LOL. Oh, and did I mention that the family is Hispanic. Yeap, so I can’t even attempt to blend in.
Anyway, so I will go into work tonight, get home a little before seven (God willing), take a quick sleepy time nap until they pick me up at eleven and we will be off to Austin. Either my little brother or sister (yall know they are twins, right) will be coming over to feed and water my Rottweiler for me. I don’t care with. I didn’t stock the cabinets, that way they take their asses home at the end of the day! Don’t hate! They both wanted the job so they can get away from my mom. We love her to death, but the woman can work a nerve. I’ve told her, but she don’t hear me though. I am still trying to decide what to do about finding a way to take her in, see if I can get me some of those grey hairs my boy MP1 was talking about in his blog. But that is a post for another day. Anyway, I will be back sometime Sunday. I need to make sure that I have taken off for Sunday night, because I’m banking on being one exhausted brother.

Pray for our safe journey there and back.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Beware Bitches in Sheep Clothing

How boring have I been lately? Tuesday morning Sgt. Militant Negro approached me and said he would like to speak to me for a moment, “please”. I was like, oh no. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I am not trying to get into a whole big thing with this bastard. Still, I am all about communication; good, bad or indifferent it can make things happen. So, I got up and followed him into the lieutenant’s office, where we could shut the door. Notice that I did not say have a private conversation, because if things went left, there were not enough doors in the world that would have prevented the outside world from hearing the full force of my pissed-off-tivity.

Anyway, we went into the office and he stood on one side, I on the other. I tried not to smirk as he began to speak (tried not to, but did not succeed). He seemed oblivious to the smirk, which was good. Guess what, Sgt. Militant Negro came to me with an apology. That’s right, you bitch ass best apologize. LOL. Anyway, he told me how Sgt. Lupe had came to him, as I knew she would, and told her about our fall out. He also told me how he’d actually asked her not to try and intervene between whatever imaginary thing we had going between the two of us, and she’d come to me anyway. Then he went on to tell me about all the shit he had going on in his life. (Try not fucking around on your wife, while yall are trying to raise four kids, mutherfudder. Maybe that’ll help out a little).

Anyway, I told him I understood and that I had no ill feelings towards him. At least I had none until Sgt. Lupe keep coming to me with all of his bullshit issues about me, that I were not aware of. I have told Sgt. Lupe and the other bastard ass Sergeant that I work with not to come to me with petty gossip about other sergeants or troops, because nothing good can ever come from it. This crap with Sgt. MN and myself just proves my point. If she’d just minded her own business, I would have never known he was accusing me of being discourteous to him and other shit. And if she had not come to me again, the following weeks, still in an attempt to mend fences, I would not have known that he’d walked in on the tail end of a conversation between me and a female sergeant from a different watch, and misconstrued our conversation.

Me and the third watch sergeant are talking about the up coming bid process. Last year Dallas started a bid process were you go down to Headquarters bid for what part of the City and the hours of days you wish to work. This is done by seniority, of course, so the longer or in your current position, the more likely there will be a slot available for you in your first choice. I was tell the sergeant in question that I would like to stay on deep nights, where I am. First of all, where I patrol now is very close to home and not far from my mom, and second, I like deep nights. My second choice would be fifth watch, which is 10am to 7pm, which are great hours for a single man. In closing our conversation I told her that I would also take into consideration the sergeants I’d be working with.

Sgt. Lupe told me that Sgt. MN feelings got hurt when I said this. I told her that I didn’t say anything to the third watch sergeant that I wouldn’t say to her or Sgt. MN. I asked her who wouldn’t take in to consideration the people they were going to have to work with when given the opportunity and if he was offended by that then that was on him.

She told me that I was being selfish and that I didn’t take into consideration his feelings.
I told her quit the contrary, I thought the man’s feeling were valid, but since I was not dating the man, nor had I said anything directed negative towards him or anyone else, I thought he was being a bit of a punk. I further told her that I was not going to feel bad just because ever time he tells about something that happens he makes himself into the victim; everybody else is wrong but him. I accused her of having a blind eye, when it came to the man, but I wasn’t going to play into his little games.

She said something and was became so mad that I began to cuss. And I never cuss out of anger. I think I scared her, which is good. And she said she was not going to continue the conversation and drove off. This too was good, because by then it was not longer a conversation, it was an argument and I refuse to argue with someone I am not sleeping with, damn it.
Anyway, that was the last time Sgt. Lupe and I talked. Mission accomplished, Sgt. MN. One more vessel down.

However, me and him are good. As good as I am willing to let it get, mind you. And Sgt. Lupe and I are good as well. We have not talked, but I value her company, so I want allow myself to lose it.
-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

I'm Back!

Okay, okay. I know. I know. I’ve been missing in action. It is not my fault I have this piece of crap IBM laptop that would not allow me to log on at all and since it would not allow me to log on it would not allow me to see why I would not let me log on. Talk about your Catch22’s. And, because of the type of job I have, it is not like I can just willy-nilly get surf the internet and even if I could, I wouldn’t dare pull up a site entitled, Look at This Nigger. Talk about people being offended if they just happened to find that cookie. So, I have pretty much been fucked for the last week. I have not been able to read comment, read you good people’s blogs, and check my personal email nor my work email (from home).

Well, Friday, I spoke with this reserve officer, who comes in to work for me. Reserve officer are citizens who have gone through all of the training it takes to be a police officer and volunteer their spare time to help enforce the law. They are cool as hell, because police have to put up with a lot of shit and these guys do it for free. I would love to be around, just once, when they arrest those people who say, “I pay your salary!” Err, no you don’t. They have a regular nine to five. They are putting your ass in jail for free.

Anyway, he told me that I probably just needed to unplug my modem and let it reset itself. Well, he actually said something else, but that was pretty much what he meant. So, when I got home that morning, after my outstanding officers caught a couple of ATM burglaries, I tested his theory. That shit didn’t work. So, I said fuck it. Let me go see what kind of laptops they have on sale at Best Buy, maybe I can get one of those 6 months same as cash deals. And even if I couldn’t, my car is paid for, so it is not like it will but me out to splurge on myself for once. If I could find one at a reasonable price I figured it wouldn’t kill me to purchase it so I would continue having to put up with my internet not working.

So, here it is, Father’s day, and although I am not a father I have treated myself to this nice new Compaq laptop. I like it. And, as you can see, I can get on line again. Happy days are here again.

Wow, so much has been going on that I wanted to tell you folks about. I wanted to tell you about how Sgt. Lupe and I got behind the guys who car jacked the man at gun point and with the help of our troops caught all three of the little ass holes. I wanted to tell you about how the youngest one evaded us, on foot, for about an hour before we caught his ass. I wanted to tell you about how, in the process of catching him, at one point I literally ran out of my gun belt (which is hard to do, but some home I managed it). I wanted to comment on how the media has already turned the race for President into a black vs. white debacle. I don’t understand. They are saying that white folks want vote for Obama. What the fuck? Of course they will! Is there anyone out there that honestly believes that Obama got the democratic nod based solely on the power of the “black” vote? Seriously? And what the fuck was that lady journalist saying about Obama and Michelle rapping knuckles, being a terrorist move? Did anybody else see that new cast? They had to demote her dumb ass. America begins to show their true colors and racism rears its ugly head.

I want to tell you how we had to threatened to have Dallas Fire and Rescue chop down the door of this club last night, when the occupants inside decide that they were going to lock us out!. Uh, no. You can lock us out of your house, but clubs are required to be open to us for inspection. Some check came up, right before the chopping began and got them to open the door. We opened the door and immediately got a contact high from the smell of reefer that overwhelmed our sensed. When asked why they felt they could lock us out, this one fat bastard, who was high as hell, claimed that they didn’t hear us knocking on the door because they were “Fucking”. Keep in mind there were two chicks and six males in the place, and one of the chicks and one of the guys were brother and sister.

I wanted to tell yawl about the new conflict, which I didn’t even realize was brewing, between me and Sgt. Militant Negro. Sgt. Militant Negro is a trouble maker and I don’t trust his ass. The only reason I talk to him at all is because he and Sgt. Lupe are tight. Last Sunday, because I didn’t feel like keeping up appearances with his dumb ass, he told Sgt. Lupe I was acting funny. So, instead of his grown ass just asking me if something was wrong, which there wasn’t, he send Sgt. Lupe (Can I get you to grown the fuck up). Any, I told her that I wasn’t upset with his ass. He and I are not close enough for me to be thinking about his ass in that matter. I did tell her that I wasn’t happy with something that he did later that morning, but he didn’t know that because our paths hadn’t crossed. Now I tell her this in confidence, because I don’t want to have conflict with Sgt. Militant Negro. See, Sgt. Militant Negro sees me as yours shy, house nigger. He hasn’t said out right, but I know he does, because that is pretty much how all Militant Negroes see anyone black that does not behave like them. However, he will find out that hard way that his Militant ass has nothing on me and we will have a new worthy fallout up in that bitch! Anyway, I find out from one of my female (friends) troops that he came to her with that mess last night and told her that he was going to have to put her on “his list” too. What the fuck! I am assuming that I am on that list, because he’s a punk, bitch. Oh, well. So, long story short. Although I love Sgt. Lupe to death, she doesn’t know how to keep things between her and me, between her and me; so I now have to be careful what shit I tell her.

Whew! Well, that was all of the things I would have touched upon if I’d had access to the internet, but since I didn’t I guess ya’ll we have to do without hearing about them. But I am back now. I will try to catch up with all of you good people’s blogs. I am certain that I missed a lot. Take care and Happy Father’s day to all you dads.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Monday, June 9, 2008

What About a Fuck Buddy?

What about a fuck buddy?

As you probably know by now, I am not on relationships. I had my heart broken at least twice and each time was harder than the last. My last real relationship was over ten years ago. Can you believe that crap? During the past couple of years I have dipped my two into the wade pool of relationships, but there is truly nothing out there worthy of my time or efforts. I am too old and set in my ways to settle for anything but true love. That means I am not all about your body, or about the net worth, nor your means of transportation. However, I am about the ass. I still like a nice ass, but other than that, I’m all good.

The reality is that I could give a damn about a long term relationship. I have bore witness to too many of those bad boys go down the toilet. And although, over the weekend I took photos of a good friend of mine’s wedding; as I lay here cropping and color correcting the more important shots, I can’t help but wonder how long this shit will last. Of course I hope that it last forever, that they can somehow manage to live forever in that joyous moment of love and family, but is that a reality? Probably not, but who knows. They may beat the odds. I certainly do hope so.

As for me, I have been contemplating the possibility of a fuck buddy. You know, a booty buddy, a friend with benefits, someone to bump nastiest with. You get the idea. There are so many pros to the idea of a fuck buddy; one being no more wrists cramps or fear of carpal-tunnel syndrome. You have a friend that you can go to the movies with, or whatever, and call when you feel the need for something more. All this without the complications and baggage of a true relationship. The beauty of the fuck buddy scenario is that you both go into it with a no strings attached mentality. You do you and I’ll do me. That way you each can still test the waters of possible relationships, if that is what you want to do. Go out on your dates and if you happen to find another man or woman that you wanna be monogamous with, more power to you. But until that day comes, let me be the one that scratches that itch. You scratch mine and I’ll scratch yours. It’s a beautiful thing.

The problem is finding your perfect fuck buddy. For me, it can’t be anyone in my existing circle of friends, because first of all; I’ve known them for so long that I can’t even begin to see them in that light. Second, you know that shit can only get messy and the whole point of a fuck buddy is to have a drama free existence. So that means you have to go out, which I rarely do, and hunt of the perfect fuckable friend. A fuckable friend is someone who you deem fuckable, which is probably the easiest part of the fuck buddy hunt. The buddy or friend part is where it gets complicated. This has to be someone that you are compatible with in some facet other than the bedroom, couch or living room floor, as the case maybe. The buddy has to be someone whose company you enjoy in other aspects of life. They have to be able to make you laugh, hold a conversation and be suitable to hang with the afore mentioned circle of friends.

Yeah, I know. It sounds like you are picking a soul mate, right? Wrong, because the beauty of the fuck buddy is that she or he thinks the same way you do. They don’t want a relationship right now, and they damn sho’ don’t want a relationship with yo rusty ass. You are just that piece of flesh that is fulfilling that carnal lust. And I’m okay with that.


-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

That's What I'm Talking About

Well, Obama took it! Was there ever any doubt/ Well, of course there was. i won't get into all of the black/white issues. Nor will I delve into the politics of it all. All I will say is congrats to the man; he is now officially the first. The first black man to officially become a true forerunner for the office of Presidency. Say what you want, but that is no small accomplishment for a black man in this world shrouded in racial overtones.
Thank you, Obama, for being the first. And thank you world for helping him make that jump. You see, even though I make the snide comment about living in a world shrouded in racism, I know that the black vote alone did not put Senator Obama over the top. hell no. It was Oprah! (joke) Seriously, I applaud American for opening their hearts and minds to the idea of a black candidate.
Now the fun truly begins. Now people's real feelings about having a black man up for the Commander and Chief will truly begin to shine and the haters will emerge. And don't think for a second that the haters of which I speak will be all white, because we know that shit ain't true. They will come in all shades, sexes and IQ levels, and yest there will be black haters. Black on Black hate, you gotta love that.
Do I think Obama is the right man for the job? Hell, how the fuck am I suppose to know the answer to that question? You never know who is the right person for the job until they take their place behind the desk and start making things happen; or fucking things up, as the case maybe. Hell, people thought George W. Was the right man for the job at one point. So much so that they voted his ass in twice! And we all have bore witness to the bang up job he did.
Of course, Americans are a fickle bunch, so you never know what will piss them off and cause them to turn on you. I should know...I'm an American. An American who just so happens to be black. But black aside, i truly do want the best person for the job up in there. I don't give a damn about experience. Hell, some of the most experience people can be the biggest fuck ups. I want someone who will actually go in there in make a difference to better this fucking world we live in. Someone who is not in it for the Republicans or the Democrats. I hate that division. Fuck that! Can you get our troops back home safely? Can you get the price of gas to stop going up every other fucking day? Can you get the members of Congress and the Senate to stop upping their own pay, while the common man struggles to make it day to day? I honestly don't care about their race, age or gender.
However, as a black man I would be remiss if I did not stand up and applaud, do a somersault out in the streets, pull out my tinkle and give it a little smile; something to show that I am proud that someone who looks like me made it through. Made it Over. Landed on Plymouth rock! However the fuck you want to say it the man has done what no other man of his race has done before. And the first person to say, "Well, he's only half black" can kiss my half ashy ass! That ain' t the point, damn it!
Er, I guess I lied about not getting into the whole black and white thing, huh. Oh well, this is my blog and I say what I want. Now the comment page is all yours. There you can say what you want.
-One Man's Opinion. Peace.
Say a prayer for Obama and his lot (those of you who do pray). Even though he took on this journey knowing full well all of the possible consequences that lay ahead for him and his family. I just pray for their safety throughout it all. I wish them well (Guess whose blog I stole that from).

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

I Have A Question

I have a question. Or maybe it’s not a question but a statement, you be the judge.
Today Manny official turned three years old. Yes, today he official stops being able to get into Theme parks for free. Of course, even though we took his ass to Sea World and treated him like the king he is, I still had to go out and buy him a cool new toy and take it to him on this day of his birth. The problem with being three is that there is not major present for a three year old that you can buy. I can’t wait until he turns five years old and I can buy him that ultimate gift. That gift that will make his head explode and make all the other kiddies envious. What’s so funny about this is that I am the cheapest bastard in the world, but not when it comes to Manny. He could have the world if I had it to give to him. It frightens me to think that if I had it to spend that I would give Manny the type of party, at three, that those spoiled ass little brats on MTV’s Sweet 16, have.

--Blank stare-- (I stole this from Tam)

Anyway, I bought him a really cool race car, which runs on its own and plays music and other stuff. Besides animals and music, I know he loves vehicles, so this is why I decided on the truck. As I was driving the new toy over to him I got to thinking about an episode of the View that I saw not so long ago. The ladies were talking about children and how they are normally predisposed to playing with certain toys. Like boys will normally gravitated towards a truck or car and girls towards the dolls. Sherri Shepherd was telling the ladies how her son will pick up the doll, but only to slam it to the ground (which I’m sure what that says about the child). Whoopi made the statement that if Sherri’s son, Jeffrey, had pick up the doll to play with it he would not be allowed to do so anyway. Sherri agreed and politely explained how she would remove the doll for her son’s hands and give him the car to play with and explain to him how little boys do not play with dolls.

This is also the lady who would not read to her son the children’s story about the two male penguins who were raising a baby penguin together. And Tango Makes Three is the name of the book which was also feature on the View because it was being banned. The ladies kind of danced around the topic, but we all know that the reason behind the band was because they felt that the book was promoting homosexuality, even though it was based on a true story. During this topic Sherri let it be known, without a doubt, that she would not ever read, nor ever allow her child to read such a book. I think Sherri’s son is like three years old, but she wants the world to know that he is very much the man.

How very queer.

I personally believe that children gravitate towards whatever toy appears to be the most fun. Now it is very much true that boys will most likely be more inclined to go for a toy truck or an action figure, without any coaching from the audience, but it also true that a boy child, who likes stuffs animals, and sees a pink and a blue stuffed rabbit, he is not going to decide which one he prefers to play with based on the color scheme. It is we as adults who put that very closed minded take on blue is for boys and pink is for girls. I bring this up because when Manny was a little over a year old I won this big stuffed rabbit, that just happened to be pink. It was around Easter time and I wanted to give it to Manny along with his Easter basket. I knew Manny would love it because he loved animals, but I would not be able to give it to him because it was pink and pink is for girls. How asinine is that? But I live in a world of closed minded individuals who believe these small things determine if a boy will grow up to be a punk or not. I ended up giving the rabbit to my mom, but I am sure Manny probably played with it at some point or another.
I contend that punkism is not based on the kind of toy your child choices to play with, nor the color of the teddy bear or rabbit that sits in his or her cradle. It is something that will just be; an innate trait that we have no control over. The reality is, “sometimes they are just born that way”. And you can’t determine a person’s sex preference by making them play with cars or dolls or playing sports or being an artist. It just is.
So, here is my question.

Those of you who have sons, because this double standard doesn’t apply to girls. Girls can play with cars if they want. They can play with tools if they want. They can pretty much do what they damn will please, without being judged. However, if you have or had a son, and you were at the store and he wanted you to buy him a doll, would you? Please explain your answer. I have to say that I am undecided. I probably would not buy my male child a doll, because of the stigma attached to it, but I would buy him a pink rabbit, if that was the one he wanted.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Family Vacation

Vacationing with family is a roller coaster ride, filled with ups and down. It took us five hours to get to San Antonio and Five days to get back. Me, one of my Older Sisters and my twenty-three year old neice in my car. Bonnie, My Mom, and three bratty kids in her SUV. Thank goodness I was not in that hell hole. Poor Bonnie (not her real name), I did take over some of her agony on the drive back. Little girls…They are born talking, huh? Shut the hell up.

Okay, the trip to Sea World was great and I think the kids enjoyed it. Although I was not keen on having two other kiddies on the outing with us, it was important for little man to have kids his age to relate and fight with. So here are the ages: Manny, who will officially be three tomorrow, Ms. Never eats (3 ½) and Ms. Hyperactive (4). Why is it that children this age hate to be touched by each other when placed into cramped places, the car that requires some amount of touching?

After this weekend I am officially having my testicles removed. The penis will still operate without the testicles, right? I have decided that I would make a horrible parent. I do not have the patience for it. These kids, including Little Man, were driving me crazy. The whining, Oh My Gawd, the whining! Is this what little girls do; whine and talk? Shut the hell up! Now, I know both of the two little girls that went on the trip, but not to the point that I felt comfortable enough to threaten them with physical harm. I am not big on hitting other folk’s children. Manny is blood so he is free game. That being said, before day one was complete I had threatened to; beat in head, cluck in eye, kick in face and throw shoe into the back of these children so many times it was not cute. I know, I know. That is not politically correct. Fuck that. It worked. I actually don’t believe in hitting children, unless they truly deserve it. The tone of voice and threat of violence is normally enough, especial if the kid has had a healthy amount of beat downs in their lives.

By day two every child I saw was getting on my nerves. Me and Sister were down stairs eating breakfast and this cute little white girl was down there with who I assumed where her grandparents. She was around three years old. Well, I was looking right at the child as her grandmother was getting some coffee and her grandfather was sitting at the table across from us (sister had her back to her). One minute the little girl was just skipping between the tables, being annoyingly precious and the next she was crying. What the hell. Grandmother picked her up and did an excellent job of distracting her from whatever invisible pain she was feeling. I wanted to say, “ain’t nothing wrong with that girl. I was looking right at her!’ I told my sister that I just wanted to hit the child with my shoe. Ain’t that just wrong? LOL. Okay, before you make me out to be an monster let me just say I am actually very good with children. I use to teach with our LETS program ( Law Enforcement Teaching Kids). Plus, kids just seem to like me. I think it is suppose to be a good sign when kids like you, but I just find it to be annoying. Plus, it’s just a little bit offensive to me. What am I, some type of clown or something?

My little brother punk’d out on me so I was the only adult male on this outing with females and Manny. It was alright though. My mom, Manny and the little girls seemed to enjoy themselves and that was the point. In the end I don’t think the kids where really all that bad. They behaved themselves and they followed instructions. Although those two girls. How many times do you have to tell them stay in one place? Okay, Ms. Hyperactive is on medication for her disorder; I only wish we could have shared that pill with Ms. Never eats.

During the drive out I learned about the affair that my ex-partner’s husband is having with a young lady that goes to my sister’s church and the two pregnancy that were a result of said affair. I learned my niece’s true passion in live and what her hopes and dreams are (which is always nice). She is a mess. She was cracking me up. She does not have my sister’s mean spirit. Don’t tell my sister that she has a mean spirit. She’s in denial about this. I also learned that my niece’s cousin had dropped out of college and is now shacking up with some guy she meet while in said college. I learned that this information is being kept from her grandparents who believe her to be close to graduation. HA! I was like, what’s the big secrete. Tell them. I understand that they will be disappointed, although I don’t see why. (Trust me, my sister married into that side of the family and they should be use to disappointment by now). I normally would say what she does is her own business, since she is twenty one or two now, but when you consider that the grandparents send her money down every month, thinking that it is being used towards schooling…well, I think that is just plain deceitful.

Funniest and most shocking moment:
We are having all the fun in the world at Sea World. My mom has to go on a potty break, so everyone has to go on a potty break. Manny is at that age where he can go into the bathroom with the women folks, but since I had to take a leak as well we go into the men’s room. He is just fine until we get into the area and sees the urinals. Then he breaks out into full pee-pee dance. Oh, my gawd. You should see this little boy move when he has to pee and is trying to hold it in. My sister and niece call it his happy feet dance. Anyway, the urinals at the theme park are the kind that goes all the way to the floor, instead of being lifted off the floor, like in restaurants and such. Manny is use to going potty on the actually toilet where he has to sit down and do it. Well, every little guy needs to learn to stand on their own two feet when it comes to peeing, so we are standing at the urinal and I am able to get him to stop jumping up and down long enough to undo his little shorts. How about as soon as he is unsnapped and unzipped, he pulled his pants all the way down to his ankles and let it flow. It was so funny. I told him now body wanted to see his naked little butt, but you can pull up a man’s pants while they are in mid-flow. It is just not done. Now this is truly a moment that only a man can share with his nephew or son.

Most Offensive Moment:
Okay, we are in Shamu world or whatever you call it. Me and Sister sit towards the back away from the splash zone. Niece and kids are somewhere near the splash zone. Mom is at the very top of the place, watching from her wheel chair. Sister is on the outside bleacher. I am sitting by this nice Hispanic family. The father is holding their precious baby girl. She couldn’t have been any more than five or six months. This child is fascinated with me. I mean she will not stop looking at me. It was very funny and cute, at first. I nudged sister and told her to look at how the little cutie was just staring at me. I even waved and smiled at her. Well, the show begins and the whales come out. They are jumping out of the water and splashing and stuff and this kid will not take her eyes off of me. Seriously, I was offended. Am I that strange looking? LOL. The dad had to actually move her to his other side to get her to look at the show. The same thing happened at the dolphin show. The kid in front of us, this kid had to be four or five, turned all away around to stare at my ass. What the fuck? What is interesting about this is that it happens a lot. Children just love to stare at me. It is very disconcerting. It makes me feel like a freak. I mean, kids only stare at things that fascinating them, right? What the hell is fascinating about me? They make me feel like the black tellatubby or something.

Most creative lie:
Driving back from the River walk. We all piled into the SUV to get from point A to point B, while in San Antonio. The kids stuffed into the very back (you would be amazed at how they seat up those damn child seats). Anyway, Bonnie is drive, Mom is up front with her, and other sister, niece and I are in the back. I am nodding of when I hear Manny say, “Oh, Ms. Hyperactive said a bad word.” (Kids are the biggest snitches.) I’m still nodding, because none of us heard it so in my mind, officially it doesn’t count. Kind of like that “if a tree falls in a forest” scenario). Of course, I’m not a parent so what do I know. My sister wants to know what she said so she ask, “What did she say, Manny?” Well, why would you put a child in the position of repeating a word that we have already determined that he knows is a “bad” word.

Manny says nothing. I told you the boy was smart. He knows a trap when he sees one. This time Bonnie asks, “What did she say?” Still no response; I am still not caring and wishing that they would let the whole thing drop. It was not like they could reach her to beat her down anyway. Anyway, Ms. Hyperactive decides to defend herself (Foolish, Foolish child) and this is how it played out. Keep in mind that she is only four and although she speaks well, she still has those little baby inflections to her words.

Ms. Hyperactive: Bitch is not a bad word.

Four adults (in unison): What did you say?

Ms. Hyperactive: Bitch

Sister: (Ms. Hyperactive is her friend’s little girl) What did you say, Ms. Hyperactive? (By this time she is craning her neck trying to see child in the rear of the vehicle, sitting behind me).

Ms. Hyperactive: Mick. Like Mickey Mouse.

I cracked up and so did my niece.

Sister: (She let her make it and didn’t push the matter) Okay, well, let’s not say that word anymore.

Way to think on your feet, Ms. Hyperactive. She knows damn well she said “bitch”. I also believe that she probably didn’t think it was a bad word until she saw where our line of questioning was leading. Kids are so damn smart. LOL

Anyway, we made it back in one piece and I am already trying to decide what kind of trip I can go on with just me and my mom.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

What the Hell?