On Melania and the plagiarizing of my wardrobe

When I was in high school one of my teammates stole the outfit I wore to school—which included my mama’s earrings—out of my locker during practice. It was “Buddy-Buddy Day” so I’d worn the same exact outfit as my girl, Nicholle. Jeans and a brand new purple shirt. This girl who jacked me was AT LEAST 30 pounds lighter than me, yet the next day she wore the entire outfit to school. And I was looking at her like I imagine Auntie Michelle was looking at Melania last night:

Ummm… does she think I won’t recognize my own ish? It doesn’t even fit her!!!

That’s what you call a flawless analogy, folks. Word is bond.

I shared this story on Facebook and folks main question was, “Did you get your stuff back?” You’ll be happy to know that I did! Or, better… someone else got it back for me. This was Nicholle and my freshmen year, but because of our class schedules we had an upperclassman lunch period. We sat with some older girls who were nice enough to us; we were just babies to them and didn’t travel in the same circles. But on that day, when Cole and I saw old girl walk into the caf in “our” outfit from the day before, we were both like “WTF? She has on all [my] stuff!” Upon hearing us, one of the upperclassman at our table was like, “WHO took your WHAT?” And before I knew it she was over there and back with my mom’s earrings, which I’m pretty sure I borrowed without permission. She was the kind of girl nobody messed with and I was just happy she was on my side. Even though I had no idea she was on my side. A few years ago, I found my upperclassman savior on Facebook and asked her if she remembered this incident. She barely remembered me, haha. But I’ll never forget that. It was the nicest, most gangsta things anyone’s ever done on my behalf.

Sidebar, this meme right here laid me out:

Old People Problems

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I had several really bad allergic reactions to some fruit I ate this past week — grapes, nectarines. I had some swelling on my face yesterday and last night I broke out in hives. I took some Benadryl and went to sleep. My father was convinced I had shingles. “A lady in my Sunday School class said she just had shingles.” How old was she, Daddy? “68.”

Exactly.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he jumped right to shingles. I mean, he’s an old dude and shingles is an old dude disease — not that young people can’t get shingles (’cause I Googled it and found out they can)… I’m just saying if they do, it doesn’t typically come and go within the span of an episode of “Love and Hip Hop Atlanta.” What’s important here is that my dad is the biggest hypochondriac I know. Growing up, he was always trying to send me to the doctor for something or other. My mom tells this story about how back when I was toddling, my dad got concerned and said, “I think we need to take her to the pediatrician. Why is she walking like that? All slow and wobbly?” Her response: “Because she just learned how to do it two days ago.” My Pop would have maxed out our insurance benefits every year if my mother hadn’t been there to stop him.

P.S. I know those are the wrong kind of shingles (pictured above), but I like to post pictures with each blog entry, and the other kind of shingles are super gross. You’re welcome.

LNHIOB

This is me dissing the first man in my life who’s ever given me a flower.

This was taken right after Tim, the organizer of the benefit I performed at, thanked me for participating and tried to hug me. He leaned in and I said, “Un uh. No hugs.” What??? Pretty pink rose or not — y’all know how I feel about hugs. And so did the audience, because the second to last joke I told was about how I hate being hugged. Tim wasn’t in the room when I told the joke — he went to buy the flower — but I didn’t know that. So when he tried to hug me, I thought he was kidding.

And he thought I was an ass.

The crowd laughed hard, but what made it even worse is I didn’t know he hadn’t heard the bit until he mentioned the diss on my way out and I explained the whole situation. Glad he said something or I don’t think he would want to be my friend anymore. Sorry Tim!!! Let’s [not] hug it out, though.

It’s Halloween, not Passover…

So, apparently it’s Halloween… Halloween has never been my “thing.” I was allowed to dress up 2 or 3 times when I was really little (I’ve seen a photo of me as a pumpkin and one as Strawberry Shortcake), but after that my parents explained to me that Halloween was not a “holiday” we were going to celebrate in our house. As Christians my folks believed that it wasn’t in keeping with their beliefs, so when I was old enough to understand that, Halloween went away. I don’t remember being bummed that I didn’t have a costume, but I didn’t like being one of the few kids that didn’t get to participate in the “Halloween Parade” around the blacktop during recess.

And of course I wanted to get candy. So my parents just bought me a pail full. But they didn’t give out candy to trick-or-treaters. In fact, my dad would put a sign to that effect on the door, turn off all the lights (outside and inside) and tell us to keep quiet so nobody knocked. And I’d always think: is he confusing Halloween with Passover? They’re kids dressed up like Batman and Wonder Woman. They’re not the angels of death…

I’ve never attended a costume party or even dressed up as an adult. It looks like fun, but at this point in my life, I look at it like weed or cigarettes — if I made it all the way to 33 without trying it, what’s really the point? This Halloween I’m at my folks’ house and I’m anxious to see how they handle it nowadays. If hilarity ensues, trust I will report it. Enjoy the cute kiddies, y’all!

Stop biting monkeys and stuff

The other day my girlfriend Nikki was telling me how she had recently confused the expressions “monkey on your back” and “hair of the dog that bit you” into like “bite the monkey that bit you on your back” … or something equally as hilarious ;)

Which got me to thinking about the song “Monkey” by George Michael:

I LOVED George and Wham as a kid. And my 9-year-old brain thought this was a song about a man whose girlfriend had a pet monkey that he was jealous of. I remember thinking if she loves him why would she choose to play with her monkey and make her boyfriend sad?

I wish I were kidding.

One of my uncles explained the song to me… and that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the 4th grade EJ learned all about the perils of substance abuse.

Hahaha… Of course I now realize that George Michael having a girlfriend was equally as funny as a woman who preferred a monkey to a man.

An understandable mistake – Pt. 3: Crack Edition

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No one will blame you for confusing these two. It’s a completely understandable mistake.

This little number is to honor DC Mayor Emeritus Marion “Bitch set me up” Barry for the boldness he continuously displays in not paying taxes while he is on PAROLE for tax evasion. This is the second time he hasn’t filed since being convicted.

I wasn’t living in DC while he was mayor, but times sure musta been good. Because this man is a crack smokin’, no tax payin’, parole violatin’ felonious city official (re-elected mayor after CRACKgate and currently serving on the City Council) and people still think he can do no wrong. Talk about teflon. Dude must be a wizard.