Damn it, I've been out of work for damn near a year. I firmly believe that people should get paid to look for work. I mean damn man, there is some live bullshit going on when looking for employment. I guess I have been out of the loop in job hunting as of late. There used to be things called, bear with me now, called INTERVIEWS. I know its crazy right? I mean, sitting down with your prospective employer, going over your background, your skills and such. Just an assessment of you as a potential employee.. But AH HAAAA!!! That shit has been cut out, at least 55%. And you know by what? THE SURVEY. Yes nigga yes, the SURVEY. Now you have to type SURVEY in all caps because that’s how it normally should sound. For instance, when Richard Dawson was on "family feud" he would say THE SURVEY SAYS, right? Good, I'm Glad you’re following me, because even though I am the author of this, I too can and may get lost. It’s a skill I normally leave off of my cover letter.
See, I'm lost now, just that fast. Someone called me and my train of thought went out the window. I really thought better and clearer when I was smoking plenty-o-weed. But I have not smoked in a long time, and I am thinking of a future in politics. And there isn’t anything worse then some dude who worked at Pathmark with you coming out to say "we blazed all the time" during the primaries. The person on the phone was no other then my ex. No, not the off balanced chick from the previous blog entry. But an ex from freshman year of high school. I am currently in a relationship, and she knows this, but when she calls lately she is playing or singing Mariah Carey's "we belong together". I always laugh, because it’s funny and cute, but her dumb ass phone is always on some other mess and hangs up before I can say something in response. She has a man, and two kids with him and they are happy together at least once a month. When we talk, I know what the issue is. She wants the damn engagement ring. "After eight years with this (expletive), don’t you think I should get it?” she says. I always agree, and try to apologize for the dude, but I know better then to say too much, because her mouth is still like a sailor's when she's pissed. When she does call, we normally talk about the past, when we were kids. 15 year old kids. I mean, she and I go back before bills had to be paid. We go back like African medallions, and cross color jeans and shit.
When we talk about the past, we always get into an argument about something. Who broke up with who, who lied to whom, who cheated on who, etc etc. I'm still upset that I am just finding out that what she told me her middle name was is actually some shit she made up at that moment in time. She has no middle name. Lmao. Wait, that shit ain't funny *mad face* we was each other's first or second loves, as goofy as it sounds, it was true. I was her first, ya know first to get in the pan-teeeeeez. She be killing me with the ole "you was hurting me, all you said was relax boo, relax". Being such a man, I have blocked that from my memory. In fact, being older and more sensitive, I'd say that I stopped, and I offered her some cocoa and some Twinkies. And waited for her to be ready to continue with the event. She laughs at that notion, and then I say then, "Well, after that day, you sure came to the crib and were but naked before we got to the top step". Strangely, the phone always goes dead after that comment.
Full circle. My ex shall remain nameless. I mean, she didn’t have a middle name, so she won’t have one here on the blog. Nameless, when we were together would always come down to the store that I worked at since I was maybe 12 or so. A small mom & pop business machine store. They sold, bought, and fixed typewriters, check writers, registers, shit like that. I would get there at 3 or 4 everyday, and she would show up 10 to 15 minutes later like clockwork. I know for a fact that nameless knows nothing about the internet or computers, so what I am going to say will have no backlash. How I kept that job is straight crazy because as soon as she came in, we would go to the back and kiss and fanga bang like it was the cure to the deficit. I am sure my fingers smelled like coochie for the next two years because of such actions. Ahhh, the smell of it.
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