The Rain

 

It is raining cats and dogs in DC today y’all. And it’s cold as a bitch too. I just got soaked a few minutes ago, and I was pissed off (black people can’t stand getting wet) until I went on youtube to listen to some tunes. Youtube is indeed the devil, but dammit if it doesn’t pass the time away.

Some people say that the rain makes them want to stay home all day and practice making babies. Yeah, I feel can feel that. I’d rather practice making babies in my office right now because I’ll be damned if I get in my car and go home in this shit. But for me, when it rains and the window is cracked a little bit to get the smell of rain and a slight breeze in my crib, I like to listen to some GOOD music (a.k.a. music written before 1991). I feel like listening to sad shit right now but I really don’t know why. I’m in a pretty good mood. And, I don’t know where this post is going, so bear with me…

This morning I was thinking about how hard women love. It’s actually very remarkable. The dude can be the grimiest person in the world, but if his women is in love with him, she will put up with so much. She will ignore his cheating, and she will ignore the man attempting to court her that has all of his ducks in a row just so she can keep abusing herself. All because of her love for this man. Amazing!

OK, true, there are men that love trifling women, but they are usually pussy-whipped (I’ve been there, and it is not the bidness), or just glad that someone is giving them some sweet thang.

But the thing with women is like heroin. I spoke with a recovering heroin addict not too long ago, and he said that the whole addiction is based on the fact that the addict is trying to get as high as he got the first time he shot the dope in his arms. The problem is that the addict will never feel that high again, but he thinks that if he tries it one more time, then maybe he will feel as good as the first time. Then he gets sick when he tries to kick the habit, and he eventually goes back to shooting it up again because he has been in a comfort zone for so long that he feels all wrong when the “dope” is not in his life (yeah, I know. Run-on sentence). Wow, that’s kinda heavy…

Trifling brothers will put on the most beautiful mask in the beginning, and once his woman is trapped, or “hooked on the dope” if you will, he will show his ass. He will break her down, and she will feel sick every time she decides to “kick the habit.” When she finally goes to rehab (usually after a tragedy) and kicks the habit, she becomes very paranoid and she won’t be able to decide whether the next “drug” is good for her or not. Damn…

So, anyway, we were talking about music and rain right? Holy shit! My brain is all over the place today! Well…..speaking of drugs and women, check out the video above. It is one of the saddest songs ever, and it happens to be one of my favorites. Oh shit…is the sun trying to come out?!

Random Thought #1 – Women and Shit

Disclaimer: This post is not about me. It is about a “buddy” of mine. I have plenty of room in my closets…so much room, that I can probably have a breakdancing competition in any one of my closets (real talk, as the young kids say). And if you believe this disclaimer, then you are crazy.

I have about 10 random thoughts every minute, but only a few of them are worthy of being posted on this blog. As much as I claim to know everything, I am guilty of being stumped every now and then (believe it or not).

This is a question for the ladies out there. What is it in your genetic makeup that makes you unhappy until you fill up every single inch of your/our home with shit things? Is it to piss us off? How many grocery bags do you need to hold on to? How many Victoria’s Secret, Macy’s and Linens N’ Things bags do you need? Do the bags become valuable after your favorite stores change their logos? Do you keep all of your old ass clothes to remind you of when you booty was smaller (cuz it sure isn’t fitting in those jeans ever again)? Or maybe the clothes remind you of when you were in a better relationship then your current one? I’m not even going to get into the shoes and handbags!!! What kinda fuckery is this?!

What makes it OK to go to Target the day after Christmas to stock up on marked-down Christmas ornaments when:

1. You didn’t use half of the ornaments you bought on December 26 of last year?
2. You had an extremely hard time getting your coat out of the closet to go to Target because the closet was filled with shit that no one needs?

I can remember visiting a family member in NC (sorry cuz) a little while ago, and she had little knick-knacks and statues EVERYWHERE!! I knocked over two miniature statues on my way to use her bathroom, and she got pissed. I literally had to tip-toe throughout her house in fear of my footsteps causing things to fall over. And she’s a big girl, so I don’t know how in the hell she doesn’t break something daily.

Lastly, why make a trip to Costco for meat when you were hardly able to close the freezer when you left the house? Why does a household of two need 15 jars of spaghetti sauce? Holy shit!

And ladies, don’t get mad when your man comes home late from work for no apparent reason. Please don’t get mad if he would rather chill with his boys then come home to you. Yeah, I know you IM’ed him all day about all of the nasty and sick shit you would do to him when he got home. But, don’t get mad. He is probably tired of looking at all of your shit nice things. Or maybe he just feels like your shit is suffocating him? I’ve never suffocated before, but I’m sure asphyxiation is not the way to go out. How can you blame him for wanting space? After all, you probably ignore all of the crap that you have that serves no purpose just to ask him about some old socks of his? “Why do you keep these old socks anyway, baby? Why don’t you just get rid of them?” WTF is that about?

So ladies, tell me what this is all about…please. Maybe your plan is to open up a thrift store. No? OK, then maybe (just like with 95% of the stuff you do) it’s just game. I’ll have to admit, y’all are the smarter species and most of you all have game. Maybe you suffocate us with the intent on us coming home late so that you can have your time to do whatever (i.e. talk trash about us to your girlfriends, or get down with you thug ass ex-boyfriend who could care less about your borderline “hoardish” ways). Or maybe this is just my “buddy’s” situation. Discuss…