Drives Me Crazy!

I love my little brother and sister. They are both college graduates and twins to both. In November they will turn thirty years of age and they drive me crazy. That’s right….CRAZY! And let me tell you why.

As you know by now, this week I worked eleven days straight (not by choice). It was fine, I got to know a lot of good people, did some head sketches and made over-time money out the butt…and I found out recently that my over time rate is a little over fifty dollars an hour. Yeah, I know it ain’t much, but it’s like a good blow job to me. No offense. Anyway, since it had been a while since I had time for myself I took the next four days off. This is day one of those fours days and I went to see my mom, nephew and the rest. Just the thought of seeing my little nephew makes me smile (and I realize how sick yall are of hearing that, but it’s true. That little boy brings me joy.)

Okay, let me tell you how why twins drive me butt scratching crazy. Lets start with baby sis. I need for her to stop bringing every dead beat ass nigger she meets over to my mom’s house and around my nephew. I don’t know what it is with black women, my sister included, and sorry ass men. Example One: Manny’s dad. She meet his ass at the 7-11. He was a man hoe with children all over God’s creation. An unemployed man hoe to boot. I will say this much for the man…although he didn’t do much by way of financial responsibility he gave his time to my nephew. To the point that I was jealous whenever my little buddy was over his daddy’s house. However, I loved and appreciated the time that Manny’s dad spent with him, because I think that quality time is way more precious then money. I was said when he died in automobile accident before Manny reached the age of two years old. Then there were others that came and went in the wink of an eye but the one that comes to mind is the Murderer. She hates when I call him that, but that’s what he is. He killed a man last year. She met the Murderer at a chicken place. And my sister can believe the hype, but I don’t believe that shit was a accident and I need him away from my mom and my nephew. This bastard had a job, so I am told, but he didn’t have a place to live. I still don’t know why they were allowing this nigger, who she didn’t even know for a good month to be living all up in their house and sleeping all up in her bed. Now she’s messing with this twenty three year old, who just got released from prison for Aggravated Robbery and Robbery. Yeah, he spent five years of his young life in jail. He hung out with us when I took my family to the Univer-soul Circus. She swore up and down that she was not dating him, but I’m not stupid. Of course with his criminal history and the fact that he didn’t graduate high school, it is making it hard for him to get a job. I was criticized about giving him the third degree, but I don’t know this little mother fucker.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s a nice kid, very respectful and all, but I don’t know him. I want to give him the benefit of a doubt, but as far as I know he could be a child molester, rapist or still have those other criminal tendencies. I had to let him know that I am a cop (sergeant) and I am always packing. Evening show him the gun strapped to my hip. He needed to know that we were cool up and to the point that he fucked up. That’s when I become the Felon. I ain’t playing.
Then there is my little brother. Got arrested for position of Marijuana before he finished college, because his ass is hard headed. Came back home to help little sis take care of mom after my step-father passed away. Has yet to hold down a steady, full time job. I think the last one he had lasted all of six month (because he lied about his criminal history). Two of my guy friends gave me a hard time about calling him out on not having a job this past Fourth of July. They said he was embarrassed. Fuck that. They don’t know my little brother and his nonchalant ass. If he needed to be embarrassed about anything it would be the fact that he was twenty nine year old ass was asking his big brother for money, so he can go out, in the first place. That shit ain’t cool.

He and I had a talk, as I left the house and I laid it all out on the line for him. The fact that his ass was about to turn Thirty years old, without a job history to speak of. The fact that he can’t wait for the perfect job to just drop out his ass. The fact that I think he is still smoking the wacky-tobaccy. The fact that the older he gets the harder it is going to be to get a job. The fact that I’m not going to help raise his ass, since I don’t help support grown ass people (unless they carried me for nine months, no charge). I told him that he had too many people trying to help his ass get a job and he to busy playing at it. That shit is ridiculous and yall all know it. Then I brought my ass home.

I love my family. Lord knows I do. I try to get us to do things together as a group, even if it means me playing. But damn it, I need them to do right. I have made a hell of a lot of mistakes, believe you me, but in the end I support myself and have never and I mean never asked anyone for a helping hand. It’s just not in me. That being said, I am willing to lend a hand, but damn…I only have so many hands to give.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Eight Years To You All

I say this commecial right after witnessing Serena win her tennis match. This little jokers is laughing his little heart out. It is such a pure and innocent laugh that I had to share it.

There is just something about seeing a baby smile or laugh that can feel your heart with joy, especially if it is a child of your own. There is just nothing that can compair to a happy baby.

There is a post to follow this one, but I had to send this out to you. If you are ever feeling sad, mad or just plain blah, come to this post or look it up on youtube. If it doesn't brighten your day I think you are just dead inside.

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.

Seriously though. Look at the kid. He is literally over joyed by the simple pleasure of tearing newspaper. That just cracks me up.

Can I Get Some More Pee For My Cornflakes?

Okay, remember when I was whining about my sucky work week last week? Well, since I was assigned to the Convention Center with our Displaced guest; here it is-day eight and still no day off and the work week went from bad to worst. Don’t get me wrong….working the convention center was cool. Over nine hours long, but I got to know our service men and women very well. Did you know that they volunteer their time in most instances (although they got paid for this particular incident). They are some of the most dedicated people I have ever met, and I was proud to work along side of them.

Still, my work day did not improve. As a matter of fact, the day before last my cousin calls to inform me that he has been accused of sexual assault, in New Hampshire. What the fuck? Yes, this is the cousin with the fat baby, ugly wife and long winded father in-law. “Why are you still cheating?” He said he wasn’t but what do you call it….you just told me you recently had sex with a woman who is accusing you of rape. Damn!

Then, sometime yesterday evening Roscoe pasted away. For those of you who do not know, Roscoe is my dog. When he didn’t come when I called, before going to work last night, I assumed he had just managed to get out the backyard. Since he is so dark and my light is out back there, I couldn’t see him when I looked around. So, I went to work thinking that his dumb ass had gotten out and how I was going to have to yell at him when I found him. After I had gotten to work I got to think, “what if he’s dead.” How bad would I feel if my dog was dead and I was thinking about yelling at him? But surely he wasn’t dead. He was just a little over six years old. That’s not that old for a dog. Anyway, I had to go home to look for some paper work for my lieutenant. I park my squad car in front of the house, half expecting Roscoe to be laying on the front porch, looking all guilty and shit. No. Roscoe. So, I grab my flash light and head around the rear of the house. My back yard is relatively big and I don’t see him immediately. When I do see him, he is laying near the side of the house. I know he is dead, but I yell his name about three times, hoping that he will get up, bat an ear, something; I don’t want my dog to be dead. But he is and there is nothing I could do about it. I have to grab my paper work and head back to work.

I kind of wanted to cry, but I didn’t. I don’t know why. I’m still trying to decipher if I am a bigger punk for wanting to cry or not crying. It doesn't help when you call Animal Control and they want you to not only "sack" your dog, but put him out at the curb. I didn't even want to look at him...not like that, but I supposed I was going to have to "sack" him, but I told the lady that I wasn't able to move him to the curb. Can you image me trying to pick up the corspe of a dog that weighted almost a hundred and fifty pounds when he was alive. Have you even heard of dead weight?

Anyway, I miss my doggie. He was a good dog and a loyal friend. I know I wasn’t always the best owner, but I loved my dog and I hate that he is gone. I miss the way he use to know my car and would run up to the gate in the hopes that I would say “hi”, instead of “shut up”. II miss the way he would want to constantly be around me, to the point of being under foot. I even miss his doggy gas, and Lord knows that crap was potent.

Yeah, can I get some more pee for my cornflakes, please. I can still taste the milk in these.

-One Man’s Opinion. Peace.

Out of Pocket

Okay, folks, to round out my outstanding work week (yes, I am being sarcastic, my work week sucked jagged rocks), I will be at the convention center, monitoring the evacuee process. I was cool doing it, when I thought it was just going to be for two days. Surprise, surprise, it is for the who work week, including my days off. Sucks to be me, but I am trying to keep a positive out look. I mean, I could be one of the poor evacuees, right? So, I guess I won't complain.

Well, that's a lie. I am going to complain like a bitch, in my head, but on the outside I will be kind, greatful and pleasant.

I will return to my regular scheduled blogging and blog reading next week (God willing).

-One Man's Opinion. Peace.