If you're a reggae head you know exactly where the title of this post comes from and it makes you want to ditch your plans and head to the club and get a couple of Rum and cokes and smoke a fat ass bleeze (Disclaimer: Jenny doesn't not smoke Mary; however, she does encourage those that do to inhale often).
Get this, I recieved a notice on Wednesday in the mail saying that I had missed an overnight package that had been delivered to me and that I would be able to pick it up the next day. SO Yesterday (Thursday), the next day, I leave my job at 12(cause I had to be on the bus) and go down to the post office to pick up the package, the tramp at the window doesn't even go over to the area where they keep packages, she just says "they'll try delivering it again to you" I say "well this notice says that they brought it here for pick up" she says "no, they're going to try to deliver it again to you." I say well it's 2:30pm the mailman has already been to my house and he did not try to deliver it can you just look and see" She says "no"
This is why they have those thick ass glass walls between you and the people at the post office. This is why they make the hole so damn small that you nearly have to break you fingers to give her things...Cause if my little hands could fit under the glass I would have been banging her head against the glass......
Anyways I end up having to take off work again today (the first half of work any way) and going back up to the damn post office and the tramp gave me my package...the same package that was there yesterday. I went the fuck off. The male attendant had to eventually calm us down by giving me a free page of stamps.You know men think they can resolve all female problems... give us something to shut us up.
Then I had to take the bus to work. There were some crazy ass people on the bus in the middle of the day. It was quite frightening...
* There was this group of nazi-wanna-be-green-hair-stud-tongued-black-coat-black-eyelinered-mohawked-black-lipsticked white boys on the train who were banging on the with the chair in front of them like it was a damn drum.
*There was this old man rolling a joint...not a blunt... right there on the train. No lie. Right on his lap like fuck the police.
*Then this want be rapper with pink and black airforce ones, a black plain white a leather pink female watch, black jean shorts, a black rag on his head, with a pink hat and tissue in his nose (I would not lie, he had tissue stuck in his nose the whole trip, I don't know if he forgot it was there or what but it was stuffed in there on some seriously disgusting type shit...). Tissue boy was "flossin" his half-assed rappin skills to this other make shift ass producer kid
Why is it that everybody in LosAngeles is a "producer", a "rapper" or "in-fashion"?
Producer=hang around people who rap and tell them what you think they should do.
Rapper=can rearrange other rappers (real rappers that are getting paid) lyrics and change the diction and believe people will think you're original.
in-fashion=working at Target calling it Tar-je.
I didn't get to work until 1:30pm (I was supposed to be here at 8:30am) but no one even knew I wasn't here (except my secretary, Kamasutra...who I call "EyeSpy"...cause she keeps this office in check) so I signed in as usual...
Hopefully, I can buy me a hooptie today or tommorrow!!!! My last interview for my new job is Monday afternoon!!!!!
This weekend I'ma just chill and relax.