fat chance on a saturday night

i had nothing to do yesterday after my session with my headshrinker, so i called up my homie, mona, the journalism chick,  to see what she was getting into on saturday night.  don't know why i wasn't too keen on being home alone.  

turns out, she was going to check out a friend of hers in some off off broadway theater in the LES.  the idea was a novel one as i do enjoy watching live performance.  something about it inspires me to go home and write either 'cause the shit is sooo fucking wack that i know i can top it, or 'cause the shit is so beautiful, that i want to aspire to top it. since i am still recovering from my BET overdose and suffering from a smidgen of writer's block, plus, i relish any excuse to kick it with my chicks, so away i went to the LES

the theater was decent sized with a tiny lobby that we were packed into like sardines as we waited for the house to open.  

as i said, we were in an off broadway theater.  a small assed lobby having off broadway theater where in spite of the fact that the play had a black playwright and a predominantly black cast. we were, quite certainly, one of a few polka dots (read: lone people of color in a sea of white.)  i'm cool vibing with the pink toes.  after all, some of my closest friends are white.  

this is to say, i am very familiar with the genus caucasious.

this particular species of white folk was a little different from what i am used to.  

mona hates the faces i make when i see something out of order, mostly 'cause it sends her into a fit of giggles and then we're both assed out with me staring at the strangeness, and her cracking up about it. these old ass weirdoes were very, very old and very, very entitled with their stuck up broke down looking selves. 

DEAR READER: one of my favorite hobbies is to people watch and invent stories for those I observe.  the more bizarre an individual, the more likely they are to turn up in some manifestation in my writing.

last night there was a whole host of people who could possibly end up in my stories. the most astounding individual, (and this is saying a lot since there was a dude there who's ear hair was so long i could'a cornrowed that shit real quick for him,) was everyone's favorite:

the fat, obnoxious older lady.

i knew she was gonna be a problem when i saw her walk into the theater with the cane she wouldn't've needed if she believed in portion size.  poor hairy ears made the mistake of standing in the aisle as fatty fat fat started to move towards the seats.  

in his defense, it wasn't his fault to be in the way.  in addition to having extraordinarily long ear hair that kept him from hearing his pushy wife tell him where to sit, he also had extraordinarily think lenses on his glasses that actually seemed to impede his vision more than it helped it. these two physical obstacles forced him, a very slight man, to stand in the lone aisle and turn in circles looking for where he was going to sit.  (it was open seating in the theater.)

fatty fat fat sighed REALLY loudly behind him, turned to say something to her hag of a friend who was with her, then turned back and said in a pitch perfect roseanne barr voice, "COME ON PEOPLE LET'S GO!"  

people was really not the appropriate noun as he was the only one in the aisle and was clearly perplexed, confused, and maybe even a little lost, even though his wife was less than 20 feet away. all fatty fat fat had to do was lean in and say,  "excuse me," to the old codger and she would have been able to get by.  this would have required that she remove 1/3 of her ass and gut to do, but it would have been a nicer option than yelling and the follicly hearing impaired.

i watched the whole exchange take place from the vantage point of my 6th row folding chair.  

did i mention that all the seats were folding chairs with meager padding? old fuzzy's wife comes to his rescue and pulls him into a seat and out of the line of fire of this obese old bitch.

you're gonna get two seconds to guess who the fat cunt decides to sit next to.

that's right. yours truly.

she proceeds to lay her cane on my chair, almost like a guardrail to keep her supersized ass from spreading into my seating area too much.  i asked mona if she thought the bitch had to buy two tickets like on the airplane and she gave me an elbow to the ribs.

fatty fat fat was not only fat, she was rude. three guys tried to get by her to sit next to the empty seats near mona.  fat bitch grumbled as they passed.  a few moments later, before the play started, one needed to go to the bathroom. 

fatty fat fat's response to the polite gentleman saying "excuse me," was, and i bullshit you not:

"you can't be serious, oh, you are serious!" and did not stand to let dude by.  

the rest of the evening continued to be a collection of her disgusted sighs and rude comments to those around her.

when the person behind her accidentally kicked the back of her chair, she turned, during the play, and said "JESUS!" very very loudly.

during intermission, she and her hateful friend complained about the man next to them and how the way he was sitting caused his ass to be hanging off of his chair.  i told mona i know how he felt and she elbowed me again.

i ask you, blognistas, is it fair for such a miserable creature to be allowed to ruin the evenings of others?  

isn't it wrong for her fat ass to be allowed to be that fucking big and nasty?  like, she has to pick one or the other.  either be fat, or be a bitch....you shouldn't be allowed to be both.  

lawd ha'mercy and please don't be a fat, mean and ugly bitch....

see, i know who i am...i am that bitch y'all love to hate.  i am not that fat bitch y'all love to hate, nor am i that fat ugly bitch y'all love to hate.  my biting social commentary would not come from the same place if i were.  if i were any of the above listed bitches, then my posts would read like a sad country song that would make y'all cry into your beers.  

i'm fat and also mean

i wish the air were clean

if i don't get a man

i guess i'll eat a ham.

being that i am as fucking fly as i am, i can get away with commenting on what a fucked up place we live in and how fucked up many people's actions are.  i can say what the fuck i want to say to whomever the fuck i want to say it because i am not a miserable old fat white bitch who terrorizes theater goers trying to support off off broadway movements.

please don't try and make me feel sorry for her about her state and her station in life.  the cunt was evil and had on them old lady jelly sandals...you know the ones i'm talking about.  they front like they are orthopoedic sandals made out of rubber and you can buy them at the walgreens or the riteaid....you know what i'm talking about.  them shits come in brown, black and white and got two non adjustable straps across them?  

whatever.  

this fat fuck had those on with no goddamned socks!! in february....in new york....this pale pink dragon had no fucking socks on and proceeded to wiggle her milky white toes with her yellowing long ass toe nails throughout the course of the play.

and i should feel sorry for her?  

i know you're thinking 'damn charlie is one mean bitch.  didn't she hear when chris rock said it wasn't nice for skinny chicks to make fun of fat bitches?'

fuck that.

you don't want me to be mean or talk about your ass, then don't be a mean old fat bitch in dollar store chanclas.

before one of you tries to call me a hypocrite 'cause i said i live a good life and then i sit here and trash talk the poor old mean fat bitch.  i still live a good life and i am still a good person.  if she were a nice old fat fart, she would have been spared from my wrath... but to be as nasty and evil as she was with no apology is ridiculous!  

donna summer's #1 fan will undoubtedly call me out for my fat people prejudice.  before she has a chance to blast me in my comment section i will say that i am not opposed to help the obese come up with other solutions for their existence from the superficial, patterns and fabrics that can mask your belly, to the emotional, "there is a good person beneath all those pounds." i can even help conquer the more difficult, "PUT THE FUCKING KRISPY KREMES DOWN!!!!"

to prove that i live a good life, i will offer any heavy harriet, any chunky chucky, and rotund ramona, my services to help improve their quality of life.  the first step in getting help is to admit that you need it.  if those beached whales on the biggest loser can take their shirts off on national television (threw up in my mouth, again) and jiggle like bags of skim milk for the whole world to see, than certainly some fat fuckers out there in the blogosphere can reach out to me for the help they so clearly need.

and because i am such a good person i offer this help free of charge. seriously.  let's make the world a skinnier, oops, i mean healthier place.

may god smite me with an extra 200 lbs if i am lying about my intentions.

PS i hope that fat bitch is employed so she doesn't have to use my tax $$$ to pay for her prescriptions for diabetes or hypertension.

just when i thought i was being original....

DEAR READER:

i regret to inform you that my social experiment has been called to a close due to lack of originality.  by no means was this lack on the part of the so-called network....come, come now... we all know that there is not one drop of originality on that "network." no my friends, the lack of originality came from yours truly.  

i know, i know.  

the horror, the horror.

you're probably thinking to yourself, 'self, how is this possible? she's such a witty girl. i've had to start wearing depends when i read this blog at my office desk.' 

i know, i know. 

believe me, i am so sorry to disappoint.  

aside from not being sure if my insurance would cover the partial lobotomy i would certainly need to purge all those awful and trite images from my mind, tragically, in conducting my social experiment with BET, i realized that Huey Freeman, from the Boondocks, had already beat me to it. 

 i totally forgot about the feud between MacGruder and the BET execs over his oh-so-accurate portrayal of the network. 

hmph and damn. 

 i guess it's all for the best.  after back to back episodes of judge hatchet, i couldn't cope anyway.  lord help me if i tuned in to the evening programming!!!

(though i must admit, frankie cole fascinates me. MAN DOWN!!)

she's like a grown up version of a Flavor of Love girl gone completely wrong. i love it.....but only in small doses.  

there is good news my darlings....

i did have an epiphany today on my way back from vacay.  as i flipped through the pages of some gossip rag i picked up at the news stand at union station, i realized how many celebs were unfaithful in 2008.  i also started to think of how many of my friends and colleagues shared similar heartache and heartbreak with me about their personal situations last year.

it made me curious....

when i got home, i looked into what year on the chinese zodiac last year was, and sure enough, it was the year of the rat!  

no wonder so much ill shit went down last year....everyone was acting like a rat bastard.  

often times, chicks will say their dude is a dog or dudes will say their chick is a bitch.  i can't remember the comedian that said it, but that isn't an insult.  dogs are loyal.  

no, it is far worse to be in a relationship with a rat, as so many people learned publicly this year.  rats, unlike dogs are not loyal.  rats are only out for self and only out to fulfill their wants and needs.  

(sidebar: i saw a rat crawling behind a trash can in the village a week or so ago and thought i was never going to stop screaming.  mice are bad enough.  at least they could pass for a pet, but rats?!)

so in addition to being selfish muthaphuckas, rats are nasty and gross looking too. but it all made sense to me that the zodiac was affecting people's moods and behaviors so severely.  i read my horoscope daily and am often found typing the zodiacs of others and sending them out via text.  i like to see how accurate them things pan out to be.  

i had no idea how much the very year could affect the planet on the whole and have people out acting a goddamned fool!

think of how many relationships crumbled publicly.  

(i'm talking to you swizz beats....damn is it really that good miss keys that you had to become a homewrecker to get it?  eeww.. personally, i can't imagine wanting to steal the bastard child of gonzo and skeletor from his wife. the thought of him making an "ohhh face" actually made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. who'd've thunk it? alicia keys as somebody's OW-Other Woman....damn!)

think of how many companies broke down and hustled each other out of everything they had.

(every single last one of you'd better check your 401K to make sure that it didn't go to pay for someone's booty call trip to aspen.)

think of how many people are losing jobs, houses, money, a basic and decent quality of life 'cause of some shit that popped off last year.

think of how pissed off you spent the bulk of 2008 'cause of something someone else did.

this year, the year of the ox, is when everybody needs to dig their heels in and say they aren't gonna take this shit anymore.  

i feel like staging my own version of that scene from the movie network.  you know the one i'm talking about, right? where that old dude stands up and says on national television 

"I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore."

we all should be mad as hell.  every last one of us who was somehow affected by a rat bastard should be mad as hell and channel your inner ox.  

anyone who somehow got screwed in the year of the rat, even if it is something small and petty like your barista CONSTANTLY making your nonfat tall latte wrong every single day.

open your window lean out and say 

"FUCK THIS SHIT! I'M MAD AS HELL AND I AIN'T GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!!!"

or, we could just declare martial law and start beating the shit out of anyone who has been fool enough to live a wrong life.  

imagine.....that snippy bitch at the hostess stand and all snippy bitches at hostess stands around the world would get pummeled with one of those goddamned pager things that let you know when a table finally becomes available.

or better yet, store clerks at club monaco who wanna act like they're working at the fucking prada store and be bitchy for no reason other than because they work in a monochromatic environment...those mu'phuckas should get strung up by the costume jewelry and turned into hideous chandeliers.

or how about all the exes who really thought they were the shit with their wack-a-do lies that you only believed 'cause it was easier than fighting?  

how about someone give every 2008 year of the rat bastard cheater a thwack in the shins with one of those collapsable metal police batons....then make them date the hostess bitches.  

anyone who was wronged in 2008 should be able to march up to the rat that fucked them over, and launch into a screaming tirade in their face to which the rat may not respond, but must sit there and endure it.  upon finishing the screamed speech.  the rat will be given a pair of rat ears that they must wear as they walk around the world.  not like the cute shit you get at disney world.  these have to be gray and hairy and dingy and smell like piss.  something must be done to punish those who took the chinese horoscope to literally.

those donning the hats are allowed to be pummeled with no notice. they have to wear the hat for one month for every person they fucked over.  guess what big bankers,  you'll be wearing those hats FOREVER.  

i think that sounds fair.  were i a rat fuck i certainly would be motivated to live a better life after having to smell like piss for a month.  how funny would that be to see the media darlings on the red carpet with their elegant suits and gowns and their nasty, hairy rat ears? 

lisa rina and joey fatone would approach celeb x on the red carpet.  celeb x is of course thinking that they are going to be asked what they're wearing and if they're excited blahblahblah.  then joey whips out the baton and tonya harding's the celeb.  

on camera.

then they move on to the next rat bastard.

that shit would be so fucking awesome.....words can not explain.

so if you were somehow hurt or wounded by someone in 2008, let the world know that you are not going to take any shit from the son of a motherless whore ever again.  stick those ears on the fucker and let the insults rip until you don't hurt anymore.

just don't come for me. i may be an evil bitch, but i am not, nor will i ever be, a rat.

PS I hit hard.

and justice for all......

Why is it easier to follow Judge Hatchett on BWhy is is easier to watch Judge Hatchett on BET than it is to watch the televised court cases/hearings on CNN and CSPAN?

I wonder if BET has ever heard about social responsibility? In the wake of the political cartoon in the NY Post, shouldn't they curb some of their "programming?" Wouldn't an educated and televised discussion about the significance of the monkey cartoon be a better use of the airwaves than 35 commercials for Harlem Heights and commercials for the BET car show (during the recession?)

And why can't I change the channel?

Damn vacay @ home with nothing to do!!! I feel like I'm back in high school and am just vegging out and letting my brain turn into mush.

Which inspires me to conduct a social experiment. I am going to pull a Morgan Spurlock and test the effects of too much BET on the brain. For 30 days, my lone source of entertainment will come ONLY from watching BET.

My hypothesis is I will only be able to make it through maybe 3 hours before I feel like smashing the TV or climbing up a clock tower and taking out anyone wearing those damn dress length tee shirts, pants with writing across the ass, and oversized fitted hats.

I will use this blogsite like Octomom and set up an online charity to support my detox/re-education post experiment.

If anyone would like to sponsor my endeavor, hit me back in about a half. I gotta find out what these DNA test results are on Judge Hatchett.

Reality???

So I had an idea:
If TI is really serious about his community service, as advertised on MTV, why doesn't he pull a captain-save-em and swoop in to create Whore Job Corps?

He could scoop up all them chicks from the I heart whomever or whatever shows and get them a mentor, some career training, and therapy...a lot of it.

Maybe he could set up a partnership with a nursing home, so them broads could have an old dude in their lives that they can't trick on, can't bone them and who has knowledge and wisdom to drop on their silly asses. Not to mention do all those Daddy-esque things like tell them they are precious and valuable and too good to spread their snatch on a reality tv show for shortlived love.

(Other than the Bachelor, does anyone have a happily ever after off of these shits?)

Have you watched the trainwreck that is "For the love of Ray J?" When the fuck did he go platinum, as he advertised in his opening credits? And when was he an actor? Dude, appearing on Moesha does NOT make you an actor.

DEAR READER: I am a reality tv junkie. Mostly 'cause I need brain big macs now and then. But mostly its 'cause I want to have a front row seat at the decline of society so that the philanthropist in me can try my hardest to fix it before it completely dies.

So umm.... Yeah. Ray J's show is particularly disturbing because he's really a regular dude, but doesn't realize it. Like he really thinks he a celebrity. Dude, the only reason anyone was checking for you is 'cause no one believed you'd really fucked Kim Kardashian.

"Hey wait a minute...ain't that Brandy's lil' brother?"

[That song was your only banger and it was the beat and Lil'Kim (before she ruined her face) that made it hot. Not you. Honestly, the track couldv'e been any other washed up R&B dude.Montell Jordan, I'm talking to you.]

I hope Reggie Bush has better luck after tapping Kardashian. If the Saints ever let him back on the field.

But this isn't about him. It's about these damn girls.

Do the producers recruit from orphanages and halfway houses, dragging barely legal chicks from the weave shops, bars, and bail bondsmen's offices to live the short-lived good life?

Think of all the good that could come to our society if someone, (Oprah I hope your fat ass is listening-that school in Africa didn't really work out as planned hunh?) reached out to help these broken dolls...and not on some Charm School or G's to Gents bullshit either.

(Not for nothin' but don't them dudes need fathers too?)

Think about it. Damn unicef. Damn all these celebs going overseas to adopt lil colored babies.

FOR REAL.

You know Angelina could use a few extra hands helping her take care of the babies. Wouldn't Leilene from Flavor of Love, Charm School, and I Love Money be perfect? She's got kids of her own too so Brangelina would actually be getting 4 brown bodies for the price of sponsoring one whore.

Let's find out who the next Octopussy...oops Octomom, is going to be and give her one of these reality show castoffs to take care of, love and cherish before she pays to get fetilized with more babies. Sponsoring one of these tragedies of American society is waaaaay cheaper than in vitro, and with none of the yucky side effects of pregnancy like afterbirth and stretch marks.

Or we could loan one to Salma Hayek since she wants to nurse lil' African babies while on ambassador missions. She could look really benevolent as she traipses through Anyghetto USA with her brand new Rock of Love girl learning of the hardships of growing up in a trailer. The ratings would be through the roof if she started to breastfeed her new adult daughter.

Being a catalyst of change starts in your own backyard. What are you doing to help with the castaway reality chicks?

Let's all man up and give a damn. Show how much you care.

Have you hugged a fatherless fucker today?

why does simple shit always have to be so fucking complicated?

yo!

i got a question blognistas:  why can't life be easier?

for real?

like why is it it seems that the whole world is out to lay booby traps at any given turn?  wouldn't the world be a better place on the whole if everyone would calm the fuck down and take it easy?

no one would need meds.....no one would bug out and start shooting up schools....no one would fly off the handle and hurt themselves.....

i wonder what the crime rates are in places where siestas are still mandatory...

i wonder if we had naptime in the workplace, or sliding employment hours, or merit pay everywhere how that would affect our society.

isn't there a recession going on? so why the fuck am i seeing pics of celebs partying at all star weekend soirees with magnums of champagne?  

can't we all live? 

honestly,  has beyonce really worked that hard that she should make more money than a nurse who pulls graveyard shifts?

who can even afford to get lit up and have bottle service every night anymore. and not for nothing, even if you can afford it, aren't they STILL rebuilding new orleans? wouldn't that be a better use of your $$$ and a better look for your karma than getting twisted and ending up banging some groupie who'll slap you with a paternity suit like its nothing? (sorry ray j)

i know this has nothing to do with life in the city, but like i said, i'm on vacay trying to take it easy so i got LOTS of time to pontificate on the perils of our society. in a way, doesn't it have something to do with life in NYC?  a place where the juxtaposition of extremes is so extremes that even the stickup kids don't know what to do with themselves....(yeah i used juxtaposition and stickup kid in the same sentence...haahah)

i guess this rambling spurs from me trying to buy a basic necessity yesterday and being overwhelmed by the options.  yeah, its nice to live in a country where i can walk into a store and choose from several different things, but it also kinda sucks cause i know that somewhere else in this country someone else doesn't have those same choices.

i'm a have.  always have been and hopefully always will be but i've never been a have who looked down my nose at the have nots, ('cept for that bitch who wouldn't seat us for sunday brunch.) do i really need a 4 course prix fixe meal that i inevitably won't eat all of when there's a fam down the street who could buy groceries for a week with my tab?

as i grow older and pay more attention to what is happening in the world around me, i can't help but to think, yeah it's not right and yeah it's not fair, but shouldn't it start to be?  

we were all singing that new negro spiritual about change when we were trying to get B.O (i hate the fact that his initials connote something so nasty) in  office. but change is more than getting those crackers out of their seat of power.  change has to start with everyone.  

every day is an opportunity to find joy in what you live and to spread it, to live each moment to the fullest so that should the creator come and snatch away your breath, you got no regrets.

or say fuck it and watch the world crumble down around your feet.  be the last muthafucka standing with a pocketful of cash and nowhere to spend it.   

i can be a nasty and evil so and so, but i know which existence i'd rather live.

fucked up, ain't it?

so, i'm on a lil' vacay for a few days escaping the city that never sleeps for one that seems to sleep often.  

there is, after all no place like home.

i packed up and took off with far too many clothes and a suitcase that has seen better days.

lucky for me, i came home at a good time.  managed to check in to la casa familiar at a safely drama free time.  mom and step pop have been extra cool.  my bro has been laid back.

vacay has been what it is supposed to be, a relaxing jaunt that allows me to be a total slug and not have to do shit other than think about myself.

yesterday, mom wanted to take us out to brunch to this lil' trendy spot that she loves going to for happy hour.  upon arrival, i swear i felt like i was back at home suddenly. the pretentiouslil sawed off first generation american twat who was standing behind the hostess stand tried to catch a 'tude 'cause we were a few minutes late for our reservation. then the bitch proceeded to try and make us wait for like 15-20 minutes when there were several tables available. 

 moms wasn't feeling it and spoke to DA MAN when he came over to the podium about what was going on.  suddenly lil homie found a table to put us in.  shorty @ the stand tried to fling her hair with mucho 'tude like she was doing us a favor to seat us.  what the fuck is up with people working in a service position and being tight that they have to provide a service?  

yo, get your fucking GED, flash that green card and maybe you can get a job at a real restaurant "up norf." bitch was acting like she was working at del posto or some shit.  relax, change your tampon and loosen up your bra. reach for more in life and maybe you won't have to be such a cunt for the rest of your life.

so basically, what could've been a nice lil' family outing got tarnished by this broad being miserable 'cause she can't afford to eat where she works and moms feeling guilty the whole meal from bringing us there.  i was chillin' once i got my latte and my french toast with strawberries. lil'bro wasn't as happy and started drawing dead aliens on the table cloth.

fucked up ain't it?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

mom dukes and i went out late in the day today for an adventure in suburbia to run errands and pick up a better suitcase at the mall.  

we went to an old old old school italian spot to bust a grub before battling with the president's day sale hunters.  my mom raved about this spot and talked about how much she and my other bro loved the relaxed atmosphere and the authentic old school feel.  we were the only peeps in the spot for mad long.  

the food was decent, they gave us free white pizza, and we were having a fairly good time just enjoying each other's company.  just as we were finishing up our meal, i looked at the wall and realized we weren't alone at our table.  

naw.

crawling up the wall was one of the extra's from joe's fucking apartment.

yeah.  there was a pregnant fucking roach climbing the wall next to us.  tell me how i'm not supposed to want to vomit behind that shit? 

fucked up, ain't it?

my mom, a woman with a hyper sensitive nausea trigger beckoned the waiter and merely pointed at the wall where lil' homie was crawling away.  the waiter looked horrified and apologized.  before taking our plates, dude actually had the gall to ask us "are you done?"

WTF did he think? 

mom sat at the table looking like she was about to cough up a lung and i went to the ladies' room to see if i was gonna blow chunks.

when i came back to the table, dude brought us free spumoni.  moms asked for the check, and turns out he comped us for our inconvenience. 

moms then felt bad and decided to leave dude a healthy tip for his trouble.  

if i wasn't already teetering on having an eating disorder, i certainly am now. 

fucked up, ain't it?

CAN YOU FEEL A BRAND NEW DAY???

everybody look around

'cause there's a reason to rejoice you see

everybody come out

and let's commence to singing joyfully

everybody look up

and feel the hope that we've been waiting for.

there's a black man in the white house and somebody done effed up and gave me a blog.

hello world!

it's like a different way of living now

it's about to get real, real ugly for everyone.

the basis of this is simple:

i live in ny and got some shit to get up off my chest.  essentially, i am a brilliant writer with an alter ego that has been clawing at my brain to get out. 

this is where that bitch gets loose.  

i'm not going to edit. i'm prolly not even going to capitalize.  i'm going to say what i want about who i want and eff anyone who doesn't like it.  

for the meek and mild mannered, beware.  there is no pg rated or pc version of  what THATBITCH has to say.  leave your troubles at the door and be glad i'm not coming for you

just look about

you owe it to yourself to check it out