Can I Eat Without You Bothering Me? DAYUM!

Lunch Break, Lunch Hour, both terms are synonymous with each other. Meaning: Your hour of solitude where no one at work is supposed to bother you for anything. Period. This time can be used to peruse the net (so long as you're not looking at sites banned by the company), share jokes with fellow co-workers in the lunchroom, read the paper, read a magazine, read my blogs (lol), etc - you get my drift. This means pain in the ass bosses and/or co-workers should not ask you work related questions UNLESS they are absolutely, positively, unequivocally imperative! This means: NO, I will not respond to e-mails! NO, I will work on a project for you! NO, I will not do any other stupid s**t that can wait 60 minutes!

This being said, YTF did my manager just come over to my desk and ask me about a question I asked her an hour ago? I asked you an hour ago BI**H! You should have answered the question then and there. You of all people know the importance of food, you've consumed a lot of it in your spare time (as a hobby most likely). Common courtesy would be to say "Oh I'm sorry, I'll come back when you're finished." Apparently, she doesn't have common courtesy.

Last week my other manager calls me into his office to ask if I'd finished the project that he asked me to complete by COB (Close of Business) Friday, it was Wednesday. I told him that I had not and that I would knock it after my lunch break. Do you know what this prick said? "I didn't ask you what you were doing, I asked if you finished the project." - WHOA - This man obviously has never dealt with a young, black, WOMAN who doesn't give a F**K about seniority or playing the game in Corporate America! People, I maintained my cool because I knew that I had to. I'm no dummy - we're in a recession! I took two deep breaths and told him that I would knock the project out momentarily. So what do you think I'm getting him for X-mas? JACK S**T. F**K Him and the whore from which he came! Do you sense my anger? (rhetorical question).

I am like a dog in the middle of a meal. You know what they say, NEVER disturb a dog while eating or else you'll get bitten! I may take being disturbed while eating a bit seriously, well so what! It's my lunch hour to do whatever the F**K I want as long as it's not against company policy. So when I'm in the middle of eating get the hell out of my face!

Oops: Did I Just Send That Message?

I am notorious for this! I'm the one that finds my phone in the wee hours of the morning after one cocktail too many and proceeds to send obscene messages out. These messages usually revolve around sex and when the liquor wears off I dread my busy fingers.

Offense #1: I sent "Brown Sugar" aka BS (how fitting an alias for his trifling a**) a message that was no intended for his eyes to see. As you read in second paragraph of Rubic's Cube, BS and I weren't on the best terms after Thanksgiving. I went to his house with approximately $90 worth of groceries on Thanksgiving day with the understanding that he'd reimburse me 100% before I returned to Queens the following day. Friday morning came and I kindly reminded him to pay me back before he left for work - he retrieved $50 because that's all he had on his person. I didn't flip, it wasn't like I was pressed for the money, it was the principle. He told me to come to his job (approximately 12 minutes, by car, from my house) to get the balance and I agreed.

While crusing on the Belt that Friday morning, I realized he owed ME money, ytf would I go out of my way to get it? He needed to come to my place. I attempted to speak to him on his cell, to no avail. On Sun I learned that a mutual friend of his and my sister's was coming to my place - problem solved! BS could have simply given the balance to "the friend" (to save himself a trip) and we'd be all squared away. Sounds good right? I thought so too, but apparently BS didn't think so.

When "the friend" showed up I asked if he had the money. I'm told that BS didn't have it. Didn't have it? What kind of BS excuse is that? I didn't stress it, but I realized at that moment that lame dude had no intention of paying me back. Yet again another example of him not being a man of his word.

Later that night, while at my hair stylist's house (under the dryer) my fingers and mind were restless. Bad combination. I proceeded to bad mouth BS via text message to a few of my girlfriends. Here in lies the problem: I had BS on my mind so much that I sent him the message first! The almost verbatim message (almost because his real identity will remain secret) "Brown Sugar is such a motherf***ing bulls**t artist. He only paid me back half of what I shelled out for his f***ing Thanksgiving dinner. Please oh please smack me in my GOD D**N face the next time you hear me even whisper I'm going out with that piece of s**t!" - OUCH!!!!!!

The minute I realized I sent the message to him I laughed hysterically! I felt bad, but I was glad that he would see how I felt about him. My mind wondered.... When would he call? When would he text me back? The wondering was over within 24 hours. He called me at work the with much to say. "What's up with all these phone thug messages?" "Dayum - me and my carelessness got me in this sh*t, now my mouth has to get me out of it", is what I told myself. I told him that the message was not intended for him and that I was upset with the cat and mouse game I had to go with to get money that he owed me. Long story short, he agreed to pay me back - that was Monday, December 1st - and that b**ch a** has yet to call me. His number has been deleted from my phone. Getting over that a**hole cost me $50, not bad huh?

Offense #2: This may take the cake! There I was partying it up on a hot summer night with my girlfriend, helping her bring in her 30th birthday. Needless to say much alcohol was ingested that night. I was so inebriated that I thought my alter ego was Spinderella, because I started DJing the party - lol.

After dancing my butt off and drinking a bit more the horny bug kicked in.... I proceeded to take my phone out of my clutch and let me fingers go to work. At the time, the guy that I was dating had a name that started with "D". There's another man in my address book that starts with the name "D", his name is DAD! In my haste to get my booty call invitation out to "D" the message was sent to my father.
The message read "I want you inside of me". Talk about the epitome of mortified! I told my sister and cousin what I'd just done and they laughed, so I laughed. Somehow alcohol makes everything hilarious..... Until the inebriation wears off!

Months went by and I forgot all about the message. I just knew that my father wasn't up on the texting phenomenon, or so I thought. One faithful day when I was completely caught off guard my father says "I think I received a message that wasn't intended for me, LOL". I acted as though I hadn't the vaguest idea of what he was talking about. It worked and he laughed heartily at my expense.

Morals of the story - #1, give your phone to your girlfriend when you're drunk! You will avoid texting someone you shouldn't be texting. #2, make sure the proper recipient receives the message, you don't want "texter's" remorse - da na funny!

Are You Freakin' Kidding Me?

Apparently all you have to do is possess a vagina, that's it! Then all kinds of rude, obscene and inappropriate comments are thrown your way.

On this particular day I had on a pair of ultra sheer stockings, black patent leather flats and a conservatively stylish black dress underneath my cranberry tweed overcoat (complimented with gold buttons). Feeling myself, I strutted toward the train station in a hurry to escape the cold.

I am almost to the station when I'm paid a compliment. I'm told "You're delicious girl do you know that? Do you know how delicious you are?" I felt like saying, "No I don't know, why don't you tell me?" Instead I just kept walking and went right on talking. I reached for my iPod to block out the barrage of unwelcome comments and the noise of all the hustle and bustle on the streets.

Another scenario: I was on my way to my first karate class in Rego Park, Queens. I walked up Queens Boulevard in an over-sized t-shirt, leggings and sneakers (you know, exercise attire). I approach a corner just as a car does; you'd think they'd be gentlemen and allow me to cross in front of their car right? Wrong! As I step off the curb to cross I am cut off by this car inching up to make a right turn. I yell "What gentlemen you are!" Oh boy, that was all that I needed; I opened the gateway to unwanted violation. "Ma, can I f**k the s**t out of you tonight?" Why would a man say this to a woman? Did he really expect me to retort yes? I was appalled , For him to effortlessly let that comment roll off his tongue led me to believe he's said things of this caliber before.

It boggles me, the rude comments men say that is. Do men have a word quota and keep a tally in their deluded minds? Why is it that the most attractive women are often confronted by men that look like they'll be panhandling in your local train station in a few years? Why do these crusty, mangy, vile men have such gumption?

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