Category Archives: Me
Its all about me, not my life, just me. Want to know a little something about me? Well just read the shit that’s in this category.
“You’re a Cracker in Nigger skin…”
Let me start off by saying, what…the…fuck!?
Okay, of all the things, I read and heard in my life this is by far the most ridiculous. This character; this coward, this fucking pompous idiot who was obviously beat as a child. Comes waltzing his dumb ass across my blog; looks around, makes a few clicks then decides to contact me and tell me that I’m a ‘cracker in nigger skin’ and that I shouldn’t be listening to Metallica, building/fixing computers, being myself mostly because I’m trying to be them and that’s something I’m not.
First of all, if it wasn’t for blacks, rock music wouldn’t exist. Let’s name a few, Funkadelic, Jimi Hendrix, Muddy Waters, etc etc. We paved the way for Metallica, Slipknot, Disturbed, even the washed up Linkin’ Park. I listen to all of them and there is not a one of you racist bigots going to stop me. I’m going to be myself until I take my last damn breath.
If ignorance is bliss then that son of a bitch was sitting on cloud 9. Normally I wouldn’t get upset over the word nigger because, it’s just a word. But to say, I’m a cracker …in nigger skin is the most outrageous shit I’ve ever witnessed. There are so many things wrong with that statement and anyone who thinks like this don’t deserve to breathe let alone procreate. I must say, it was creative though. He must have some true hard feelings for people of color. Or maybe he’s just a sad and lonely – pathetic piece of shit who is looking for his 15 minutes of fame. Well your 15 minutes is up missy and so is this article.
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Well, it’s my birthday
Managed to make it to another godless year. Although the news I received yesterday has put a funk on the rest of the year, I guess I shouldn’t allow it to ruin my birthday at least.
I doubt I’ll be getting any presents, I never expect any to begin with. Although I do have classes today; night classes no less. My little sister is making me a birthday cake. No telling when I’ll be available to go and pick it up though. I’ll probably sleep the whole day then get up and go to school. So I guess that’s a present to me, a very good one [I am getting Guitar Hero: Warriors of Rock as a late birthday present]. I say that because, I’m finally in school and I feel I at least accomplished that much this year. Everything else I tried at crashed and burned – including relationships.
While I’m sitting here listening to Foo Fighters Greatest Hits, and typing this blog, I should be thinking of what I’m going to do today besides sleeping. You what? I’m going to clean up the house and work on my homework for English class. I could also begin to work on my math homework that is due in 4 weeks. I must say, college is nothing like high-school.
Anyway, I’m 23 today and everything is pretty much the same. I’m still an ass, I’m still in pain, and I’ve always felt way older than I really am. 7 years ago doctors told me I wasn’t going to make it to my 23rd birthday. Well here I am. Just 2 years ago I was in a car accident that almost knocked the right side of my body to the left. Just years before that in between I was in more car accidents that I should be alive to talk about.
I’m not a person who will probably never have their life flash before their eyes. I didn’t get out the car or off the ground and say, ‘Thank God I’m alive!”. I’m an Atheist for one and for two death is inevitable. If I don’t accomplish everything I didn’t set out to do before I die, it’s not gone matter when I’m dead.
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The Head Turning Effect
I don’t know, maybe I’m not observative enough. Today when I was on my way back from Subway and this guy was walking the opposite direction and he did a double take, walked all the way past me and I looked back and he was still googling me; while on the phone with his father. I know this because he walked up to me when I got to the corner of the street and asked me for his number. He was talking so low I had to tell him to speak up. He told me he was on the phone with his father. He put the phone up to my ear and his father was screaming. Now, I don’t know if he’s used to his father yelling or I was worth ignoring his father for whatever reason it was but wow. I was looking like shit today, my voice was shot until I gurgled some salt water, I had my hair wrapped up; I tossed on whatever I had lying on the floor and I’m usually wearing a mean mug on my face. Anyway, I told the guy I don’t have a cellphone and he went on about his way. But before that he told me I was “beautiful” and that he was sorry he bothered me.
I remember when I was still living at my grandmothers house and me and my family would be sitting on the porch. I would be standing on the steps and we live on a busy street so theirs a lot of traffic. My grandmother would say, “that man almost broke his neck looking at you, he need to drive his car before he kill himself”. She would say this as well as others sitting on the porch numerous times. I never notice it. I notice the horn honking but I ignore them altogether. The only one that had me dying was this guy driving this truck bed with a construction vehicle on it. He actually pulled that big ass truck over on 79th and Euclid and waited for me to walk past the truck. Little did he know I wasn’t about to keep heading straight, I was going into the strip mall. I know he felt rejected because I laughed so hard at him. Others may think I’m pretty or beautiful but I don’t. I’m just decent; and I don’t have to wear half-naked clothes to get people attention. I can obviously look like shit and people will turn their heads. I guess it depends on people standards; theirs must be pretty low. Which isn’t always bad. I mean imagine if I had on heels and a tie-dye tube-top dress. LMAO!
I should be flattered but I’m not. I find those who do this to be sad, materialistic, people. I could have been a sociopath but never mind that, I have a “pretty face”, nothing else matters.
My First Day of School
My first day of school was interesting. Especially since my ex is in two of my classes. We were friends – good friends way before we were together. He left Ohio for a while; I forget why but I guess he’s back to finish school I guess. Of all places to come back to, he comes back to Cleveland, Ohio.
Anyway, that was one highlight of the day. I ran into my mother too. I haven’t talked to her or heard from her since around this time last year. She looked okay but she was pissed. She’s always pissed about something so it’s nothing new. Classes of course were a breeze because it was the first day. It’s not what I expected though. I expected the classrooms to be tiny and filled with ignorant people who was pretty much only there for the refund check from financial aid. They actually seems as if they want to learn. My ex of course is my math partner because he’s good at math so he’s going to help me with my math as much as possible. I really hate that subject. He’s also gone take me to the air show [maybe] Monday since school is closed and Tuesday is my birthday.
With one of my classes being early in the morning and the other one that day being late in the afternoon, I find walking back and forth to school to be tiresome but in the long run it will benefit me. Walking is good exercise. It’s just a good thing I don’t live too far from the school where it’s in a decent walking distance.
I pretty much had an okay day. I just hope I succeed.
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Death Means Little to Me
Survival of the fittest; if that means surviving 7 car accidents with 4 of them being major, Cancer, and almost being killed by family members, then I must say I’m pretty fit. I’ll be 23 in September and I wouldn’t wish anything I’ve been through on anyone. You would think going through all that, I would appreciate life a little more, but I don’t. I appreciate life just the same.
I”m not worried about dying, when I’m going to die or how. I look at death of course as an inevitability and nothing more. I couldn’t care any less about what goes along with death. The concept of death doesn’t frighten me to the least. I’ve looked death square in the eye and didn’t feel anything. I survived and lived; I’m an Atheist so I don’t think ‘God‘ has me on this planet for a reason. I believe I’m here just to be here.
I guess death doesn’t mean anything to me because I figured that its going to happen anyway. You live your life the way you want, no one makes it out alive right? Right. My thing is this, I’ve seen people get upset when someone talks about death. I don’t see the point in getting upset over something that’s going to eventually happen. I find worrying unnecessarily a chore I refuse to do.
When a relative die I’ll be sad depending on how close I were to them. I don’t dwell on it. I’ve came to terms that people die and that’s a part of life. Fear of pain, suffering, and the unknown; reigns supreme over the thoughts of those with death anxiety. I honestly feel sorry for those individuals, I know they must go through it just briefly imagining what it would be like to die.
I’ve died a few if not more times in my dreams. I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat, I didn’t start screaming and crying frantically. I just said, “hmm, I guess it IS a myth, don’t die in reality if you die in your dreams”. And I’ve been shot, blown up and thrown off a cliff in my dreams. I thought it was foolish at first that the first thing I would think about when I woke up from my dreams is about some vague myth someone probably made it up with their friends during a sleepover while telling ghost stories in their basement with a flashlight.
I know someone is going to read this and have something irrelevant or retarded to say.
Being scared to die is basically being scared to live.
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A Fatherless Life
Growing up raised by grandparents, aunts and cousins with no mother or father around. Growing up knowing less than of what was known as a child. Refusing to believe that a mother couldn’t have been that careless to make the same mistake 5 times.
I didn’t have what some would call a ‘cliché‘ of a father; one who protects their daughters, and toughen their sons. Scorn their daughters about the inches missing from their skirt or the amount of make-up they put on. Testing the men that she would bring home to introduce to her father all for him to be that overbearing, over protective, strong-willed man who only wants what’s best for his “princess”.
To this day I still wonder what it would be like to know who my father was, how he lived and what he looked like. Asking my mother these things would only lead her to babble on like an idiot, to blame the very mother who raised all of her kids as to why we ‘hate’ her. The simplest gesture in towards that subject would cause her to feel paranoid and defensive.
I didn’t ask to be here but it is my right to at least know my father’s name. I fear she don’t even know what that is let alone if he is truly dead or not.
Living without a father isn’t all bad, I’m not a lost and confused juvenile, hell-bent on being the very thing my mother once was. Yea I come from a broken and dysfunctional home but instead of dwelling on that and being miserable for the rest of my life because of it, I chose to learn from their mistakes so I won’t make the same. Some would say that my grandmother was my mother and my father but I would beg to differ. She never gave me the wisdom only a man of age would know of, she didn’t have the experience [like my mother have] to know what makes a man tick or to walk out to never return. She did teach me about being a woman, she taught me about self-respect and elbow grease; how to get down on your knees to work, clean, cook and take abuse.
I honestly believe if I had a father figure in my life who gave a shit about their children, my grandmother wouldn’t have been the frustrated, abusive, neglectful old women she is. Being fatherless taught me to not be like my mother and my grandmother; my aunts and my uncles. It taught me not to have kids with someone I know I don’t like, love, or particularly care for. I taught myself to respect myself and don’t let a man abuse you in no type of way; I had to learn that on my own. I had to learn that some men are womanizer’s and only out to get one thing. I didn’t need a father to make mistakes and to learn from them.
My life is fine not knowing who my father was. I’m not going to hold my mother’s mistake over her head; I’ve come to terms with how I got here. She made the mistake 5 times.
So before you think just because I’m Black and I have neither my mother or father in my life that I’m some ghetto, uneducated, drama-driven, naïve hood-rat who watches BET and stand out in the rain for the next pair of Jordan‘s. I’m different from that and I work hard every day not to be that. I am who I am broken home or not. Some of these women out here who watched their father leave them are only acting like that because they let that affect them in such a way. The only way to get back what was taken from them is to not be that way. Not to lay down with these dead-beats just to get up and say they’re no good. Then again, what do I know?
So I would like to wish all of you out there who at least know who your father is [well at least their names] a Happy Father’s Day. Be grateful and fortunate for what you have now because in an instant it can be gone.
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Don’t Lie at My Funeral…
I don’t even know if I’m going to have a funeral. If I do have one, I don’t want my family grieving over me; giving the eulogy saying 
how much of a this that and the other I was when I wasn’t. I am no saint, far from perfect, and my family dislikes me and I’m sure when I and if I start my family nothing is going to change. I have enough people lying to me and about me while I’m still breathing, I don’t want them lying about me when I’m dead. I’m not sure if it should matter or not but it does.
My point is, everyone that die or gets killed wasn’t a good person, I’m pretty sure of that. I read these stories and watch the news and it’s always “he was a good person, he never done anything to anyone” well that may be the case in some cases but not all of them. Oh I’m guessing family members refuse to accept that their loved ones aren’t who they fabricated them to be or wanted them to be. Then when it comes down to it, Billy was the neighborhood’s thug who liked shooting up corner stores and slashing people’s tires. So the people who knew him justified his actions by saying he was a “confused and misguided” person but “he was the happiest 6-year-old you ever seen”. It’s not always the good guy that dies.
This is what I want said at my funeral…
Asilee, the cutthroat bitch who didn’t give a damn about what someone said about her. She was an Atheist and she stood up for what she believed in. Asilee wasn’t a people person and she preferred to stay away from people as much as possible. No doubt that Asilee was an asshole but she had a level of tolerance about herself when it came to people, if they weren’t loud, black, or ignorant she was the life of the party. All in all Asilee was Asilee. Her family hated her but liked her enough to give her a proper funeral.
It would have been longer but who wants someone standing up there talking about a corpse and what was? Being that I’m an Atheist and all, no telling what’s going to happen, I just wish I would be alive to watch the fireworks. I should though make a will, its makes sense really. I should just say in said will “cremate my ass and throw me in the nearest toilet you can find”. I’m not too big on death or anything like that. I don’t want roses when I can’t smell them or someone singing when I can’t hear them. I sure as hell don’t want someone lying about me when I can’t defend myself.
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Getting a Tarantula as a pet
The Mexican Redleg (Brachypelma emilia)
I’ve always loved spiders, tarantulas especially. My thing is getting the food for the tarantula. I stay in downtown Cleveland, let alone Ohio where all the stores and everything are closing and moving leaving. I could breed food for the tarantula like cockroaches but its something about them that makes me want to run and hide under my covers. My point is, there isn’t a pet store to even get my tarantula from for at least 500 miles let alone food for my tarantula. I’ve been wanting a tarantula as a pet since I was 12 years old. I find them very cool.
Then there is getting the tank, the soil/substrate etc. My choice of spider that I’m thinking about getting is either the Mexican Redleg [Brachypelma emilia] or the Chaco Golden Knee Tarantula [Grammostola aureostriata or Grammostola pulchripes]. What people have been telling me is that I should get spiderlings instead of an adult tarantula. Especially if I were to get a male because being that the male lifespan is a lot shorter than that of a females. I could have the male for 2 months and he could die. Which in fact makes sense. I don’t want to buy $30-$40 for an adult tarantula that just dies a month later.
I think tarantulas are beautiful and I think besides a cat; a tarantula would be the perfect pet for me. I’ve done a lot of research on the two types of tarantula that I’m interested in so I’m well aware of what to do and not to do. I just know if I ever get around to going to a pet store, I’m sure to have a lot of questions for the pet owner. What I’m not sure of is some people saying that heat rocks and heating pads are not good for the tarantula because tarantulas like to burrow and if the heating pad is under the tank it can ‘fry’ or ‘kill’ the tarantula. Others are saying that’s the best bet if you live in less warmer climates year around because the temperature in the room would not be enough for the spider to be comfortable especially around the molting stage in that tarantula’s life. So if you have a tarantula or had one, feel free to comment with some helpful tips. I would be grateful.
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I’m Never Putting Micro Braids in My Hair Again!
Being that it was my very first time putting those tiny braids in my hair it took me 5 days to finish and during that time I suffered sore hands, neck, back and arms. Even my wrists hurt. I had to soak my entire body in hot water just to soothe the pain. Why it took me so long to do them I don’t know. But when I was doing them it seem time was just flying by. It took 3 days just to do the back of my head. My hands were in pain on day 2.
I can truly understand now why it costs so much to get them done in a Salon. Micro-braids are a pain and a lesson well learned. I will remember this experience and the next time I want some done, I’ll make sure to tell the person doing them that I really appreciate what they’re doing for me. My knuckles and index fingers at the joints and down the side of my hands still hurt so its a bit painful to type. I mean last night, I couldn’t even cook myself anything to eat, I had to ask my boyfriend to cook for me and spray braid spray in my hair. Because the fingers required to use the spray bottle were in so much pain. It doesn’t help that I’m heavy-handed as well. I don’t know if I was stressing my hands or putting them in wrong as far as my hand positioning is concerned which can possibly lead to pain and discomfort but I know this, I won’t be doing it again.
I guess I can show you what they look like:
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Why Are Other People Kids So Attached to Me?!
I’ve been asking myself for a very long time. When I’m around toddlers, infants, any child below 6 years of age they seem drawn to me. They reach out to me, they start crying hysterically when I leave the room when their mothers are sitting right next to them. Often times kids cling on to my pant legs and hang on to dear life if they get the chance. I don’t do or say anything to these kids, its the moment they see me its a done deal, they are going to try and find a way to cling to me until their mothers come and get them.
I have a family friend who had two kids, they’re like 8 and 6 now but when Makala was like 1 or 2 years old I remember sitting down next to her when she was in her car seat and she was sleep at the time and I decide to get up to go do something, I forget what it was, she woke up crying and reaching for me when I got up. I don’t look anything like her mother. I had to take her out of her car seat and sit her on my lap so she can stop crying. Don’t get me wrong, I can tolerate kids and when they laugh it just melts my heart; almost bring a tear to my eye. Its just that kids seem oddly attached to me and I only have to be around them one time. I remember this other time my friend I mentioned before took me over her Aunt’s house and she had a baby. Well her baby followed me around the house the whole time. They would watch and laugh at how she would crawl after me once I left the room. Good thing they had carpet down because I can usually sit down and not have to get up when I’m nervous but for some reason that day I had to keep getting up and stay moving.
Maybe I’m just paranoid or maybe kids can see something about me that I can’t. I don’t know but the child could have never seen me before and they would want me to hold them and smile at me and fall asleep in my lap. I’m not a kid expert but are kids that comfortable with total complete strangers? I don’t know but I don’t think they are. I’ve asked this to a few relatives and they don’t understand it either. They’ve seen these odd occurrences happen to me as well and they find it funny; I find it interesting, not funny. I’m not a communicative type of person and I truly don’t know what to do with a child that is sitting on my lap smiling at me and tugging on my ear.
My best friend told me that I should be happy that kids love me because when I have mine they’ll think I’m superwoman to them. Well sadly, the last time I went to the doctor, he told me I’ll never be able to have my own children. I should be sad but its not the end of the world. I never really wanted children so I guess its not a total loss.
I just need an idea to why kids look at me like I’m a character from Sesame Street and..dare I say it…Blues Clues. They have this “oooooh” look on their face when they’re reaching to grab my pant leg. It gets intense when I go to pick them up. They try to cuddle so deep into my arm it gets out right weird. What’s even more odd they aren’t hopping around or fidgeting around when I pick them up, I just sit them down on my lap and they look up at me and smile and try to grab my chin…with their mouth. I should try to stay away from kids when they’re teething; it shouldn’t be hard.
There have been suggestions that I work at a day care. The other workers there would love to get a break because all the kids would do is sit around me and look at me like I’m a huge bottle of cold milk; or a large teething toy.
For a while I found it adorable, cute even but that’s no longer the case. It seems it gets worse as I age.
Just thinking about them laugh though is making my day better. Whoever can sit and listen to a babies laughter and not feel the urge to laugh themselves has no soul. You cannot deny the sound of a child’s laughter, its impossible.
Well, I guess that’s all I have to say about this subject…if anyone have answers, feel free to enlighten me.
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I’m a loner for a reason…
I don’t like people in general but its the females I despise. I mean don’t get me wrong, I can tolerate people but if I had a choice to be around them or not, I wouldn’t be around them. I’m not an asshole to people because I don’t like them. I treat people how I would want to be treated. Its just …ugh, a large quantity of them in one area makes me itch. I don’t like small talk either. That I can live without. I like it when people get to the point so I don’t be standing there getting uncomfortable. I’m not much of a happy person; I hate smiling and cameras. Get people and camera’s in a room with me and I’ll try my damnedest to get the hell out of dodge.
Being a loner is awesome though. There’s no drama; no people asking you for money; you don’t have to share your snacks or video games, the list is endless. I think that’s why people didn’t like me in high-school because I wouldn’t hang out with them just to smoke with them after school. How the hell is that something to do on any planet? Its one thing to be human but to be a human and smoke? We won’t have nothing but “hi” and “bye” to say to each other. If I had to hang around people, I would want to hang around people that are like me or at least close to it so we wouldn’t have to talk to each other to remain friends.
Just give me my music, my food, and my video games and I’m the happiest camper ever. I’m not materialistic nor am I picky [to a lengthy extent], that’s energy I could be using avoiding people. I don’t like being in the spotlight, I try to avoid opportunities for that to happen. I wear all black [my favorite color] and in my mind, black means “uninteresting”. Besides, bright colors annoy me. I tried dressing in something else besides black but all it left me at the end of the day was me explaining myself to my relatives that I was okay. They thought I was off my rocker because I wore a gray and white shirt. Even my boyfriend trips out when I wear white socks. Sometimes I have to ask what the fuck am I doing myself when that happens.
No, I’m not “emo” whatever the definition to that word is; it could mean anything these days. My point is, people keep too much shit started and they talk too much. They don’t sit down and appreciate themselves. I sit down and look at myself everyday and I’m happy that I am who I am whether people like who I am or not. I prefer they didn’t; less people that like me the less potential crushed feelings I have to hand out. They’re loud too, that’s why I dread living downtown. When I’m up on my feet again, I’m moving far away from the city as possible. My family might hate me for it but who gives a damn about them? They disowned me when I told them I was an Atheist, so to hell with family.
As far as females go, they bleed the same way I do every month so I know for a fact that they use that as an excuse to be a bitch. They’re some conniving ass broads I tell you. They don’t know when to stop gossiping or being deceitful. Majority of my family is females and all they can do is talk about me or about who caught what from who. Thank goodness I already set in my mind that I was adopted. I don’t even talk on the phone, I mean why would I? I have to look at them and look at me and have to remind myself to why they hate me. Its very clear why.
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Sweetest Day is NOT Just For Men
The whole meaning to Sweetest Day is really messed up for people. If you want to know what Sweetest Day is and who originated it, keep reading.
Sweetest Day
During America’s Great Depression, a man from Cleveland organized many people in an effort to provide a small token of friendship to the underprivileged, shut ins, orphans, and homeless. Today the holiday has expanded to include small tokens of appreciation to friends and neighbors too. These tokens of appreciation can be small gifts or small acts of kindness. This event is repeated on the third Saturday in October.
Some candy maker in my hometown is the creator of this day. Yet people take it where that this holiday was made for the men sense Valentines Day was for women. Well since people can’t seem to figure out what Valentines Day is:
Valentines Day
Valentine’s Day or Saint Valentine’s Day is a holiday celebrated on February 14 by many people throughout the world. In the English-speaking countries, it is the traditional day on which lovers express their love for each other by sending Valentine’s cards, presenting flowers, or offering confectionery.
Where does it say that is just for women? Everyday should be a day to express how much you love someone. Just like Christmas for you silly Christians should be everyday that you want to give, share and all that other lovey-dovey crap. I don’t know who put it in people’s head that women have their day and men have theirs when it comes to Valentines and Sweetest Day. That is just totally idiotic.
Since When Does, “I have Black friends so I’m not racist” Justify for Anything?
I have piles and piles of black friends. They come to my home, I marry them, they use my bathroom. I treat them just like everyone else.
I got that from here. My thing is this, why do people tend to pull that I’m not racist because I have black friends card so much? Having black friends doesn’t necessarily mean you aren’t racist. People can smile in someone face and hate them behind their back day in and day out. Yes I know there are people out there who aren’t racist I know this, but I’m not talking about them. I’m talking about the ones that feel they have to prove something to someone about who they befriend. For example my friend; from what I’m about to say you are going to wonder why I’m friends with him but so what. Well he’s racist, we’ve been friends for almost 6 years now; it’ll be 6 in November. He don’t like blacks but he’s my friend and I’m his. Is he truly my friend to my face and behind my back? Yes. I don’t think a guy like him would risk his life to save mines if he wasn’t a true friend, but that’s another blog on another day.
What I’m saying is, if you aren’t racist…you don’t have to say you’re friends with a bunch of people of said race. You don’t have anything to prove to those who say you are. It gets depressing to see so many people get offended and their scapegoat is that worn out, “I have black friends” card.
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The Writers at Young and the Restless Make Me Sick!
It’s a shame when you know whats going to happen before it actually happen. My thing with this soap was that it was good years ago but now they’re throwing all these far-fetched ass story-lines around it’s not making any sense. Sharon goes into labor and Adam just so happens to be there with Dr. Taylor so its obvious he knows about Sharon going into labor and its also obvious that he’s going to try to steal her baby to give to Ashley.
I think if it actually goes down like that, I will no longer be a fan of Y&R. I never liked Bold & the Beautiful but I think I will begin watching that instead of that crap the Young and the Restless writers are conjuring up. What’s so stupid is Ashley’s pregnancy, she has a miscarriage and she’s so stupid to see that she’s not pregnant. Plus what type of mother don’t go to her prenatal appointments? They make her this deranged lunatic and for weeks all she was a soggy ball of tears.
The storyline with Adam is retarded as hell. How long is a blind man going to get away with all of what he’s gotten away with? He’s like Dennis the menace except he’s blind. I truly believe that I can come up with better story-lines than the ones they have come up with. Y&R is getting pretty pathetic, not even the Cancer storyline with Lily is making much sense either. The only sensible thing out of Y&R is the write-out of Colleen.
As of today I’m no longer a fan of Young and the Restless, damn waiting for Sharon to have her baby, I don’t think I can take another agonizing episode of Y&R. The writers messed up a good soap royally.
I would hate to see what this show would look like a year from now.
How the hell is Ashley going into labor in this recent episode? How the hell is Sharon and Ashley having their baby at the same time if Ashley miscarried? How did the writers magically giving Ashley a huge bump if she miscarried months ago? Yea, I’m pissed, the writers suck really damn bad right about now. Good bye Y&R, hello B&B.
Check out my latest and recent rant about Y&R here.
Seems People Didn’t Give A DAMN About Michael Jackson Until He Died…
Michael Jackson was the KING of Pop. Just recently I was thinking about how people would react if Michael Jackson died and look what happened, I turned out to be right. Seems like the people who were calling him all those names about him being a molester are feeling bad that he died. No, don’t feel bad now that he’s gone, you didn’t give a damn about him before, it shouldn’t matter now either that he’s gone right?
I know who is going to have a ball with this though, the creators of South Park and Family Guy. They don’t give a damn about anything so everything is fair play in their ball park.
Those who call him a molester or have something irrelevant to say, well how do you know exactly if those accusations about him being those things were true? The main ones who were saying all of those cruel things about him were in fact white and NEWS FLASH! Micheal Jackson is black, kind of funny isn’t it? A black man getting away with things he didn’t or did do; whatever it may have been. Hell, look at R. Kelly, he pissed on a broad.
People want to try and take back things they’ve said about Michael Jackson like that’s suppose to change anything. That just mean you didn’t mean it in the first place. This monkey-see monkey-do shit has got to stop. Have your own mind for once, just because one or so people think one thing doesn’t mean you have to follow them like its Twitter.
Wasn’t any proof for those accusations about him being a molester or he would probably be in jail. So regardless if he was found innocent based on proof or not doesn’t mean squat that he’s dead. I bet those who are saying all those stupid things still like his music, probably never stopped. People saying, “good ridden” and “AT LAST!” fail to realize he’ll never be dead. His music is still here and that’s what he’s famous for. I’ve always been a fan of Michael Jackson and I know no one is perfect so to hold something against someone based on what the media says is stupid as hell.
Don’t give a damn about him now that he’s gone if you didn’t give about him before.
