How to Remain Unemployed

I have officially retired from teaching and begun my career in Human Resources. Specifically, I recruit software consultants for a very large and well known organization. I am literally giving away jobs. Literally. Giving away jobs just might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, though, because it seems that some folks are intentionally contributing to the unemployment rate. I’m beginning to think that people don’t really want jobs, they just want to show that they’re looking and then go home and play X-Box all day. I’m in the business of helping people be the best them that they can possibly be, so I’ve compiled a list of surefire ways to make sure you never have to stop playing Call of Duty. Ever.

1. Cancel job interviews If you don’t want to work, cancel your interview. You can reschedule, but there is nothing like canceling at the last minute. This says to future employers “I know you want me to come to work everyday, but I’m going to figure out a way to get out of it twenty minutes before it’s time for me to come in.”

2. Have janky ass phone etiquette Full voicemail box. Caller tunes. An entire Trey Songz/Trinidad James/Taylor Swift song as your outgoing message. Disconnected number. Community cell phone that your bad ass kids answer. You get the picture.

3. Dress like a teenager Get your interview suit from the junior department. Make sure it is short, tight, and revealing. If you are a man, make sure there are sparkles on the pockets of your button down shirt…wait, don’t wear a button down shirt. Dressing up for interviews is for chumps. Just keep on the outfit you wore to the club the night before.

4. Make your resume a clusterfuck of nonsense There is nothing an interviewer hates more than knowing that your hobbies are fantasy football, video games, and reading so make sure you include stuff like that. We also abhor your use of fonts like Comic Sans and Papyrus. Bad grammar and misspellings are also great ways to make sure you never have to give up your seat on the couch.

5. Reveal personal information Live at home with your mom? Tell me all about it! Hate your former boss? I need to know these things!! Miss my scheduled call because you were out running errands? That’s EXACTLY what I want to know!!!

6. Lie Sure, I can do everything that is listed on my resume…now what was it that I said I could do?

There are countless other ways you can do your part to make sure the unemployment rate NEVER goes down. Don’t stop believing. I know you can do it!!

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Getting to Know Me

Last weekend, I spent 48 glorious hours with two of the most wonderful women one could have the privilege of knowing. We shopped, laughed, ate, fussed and did all of the things friends should do when spending precious
moments together. I did a little bit more, though. I learned a few things about myself that I never knew.

I’m slow My friend said, “If someone asked me what I did this weekend, I’m gonna say, ‘Waited on Jennifer.'” I was seconds off being offended til I realized she was right. The reason I give myself two hours to get ready is because it takes me two hours to get ready. I fuss at poor Cinda all the time about being slow when I move at a snail’s pace my damn self. I pace back and forth forgetting what I went into a room to do, getting distracted by a piece of glitter. I’m slow as shit. I never noticed because I hate making people wait on me, so I give myself plenty of time…unless they’re already with me. It takes a lot for me to get ready to do anything which leads me to the next thing I learned…

I’m VERY high maintenance Shower, exfoliate, shave, moisturize, brush teeth, floss, gargle, wash face, moisturize, makeup, hair, iron, dress, change clothes, choose shoes, change again. I do this EVERY DAY!! No wonder I’m so slow. I have a lot to do. And this is when I’m going to work. Add a few steps when I’m going out. I never realized how much work goes into leaving the house looking presentable, but when Kamilah whipped out her no wrinkle spray and tossed her skirt in the dryer as I ironed my dress, it hit me: I’m one of those girls. I also realized I’m one I those girls…

Who needs to work on her Ew!! face Let me preface this by saying a) I was on my fourth Jack and Coke and b) Said Jack and Cokes were scrong. Biz Markie was playing terrible club music, but that damn Love on Top made me wanna dance so I danced. A 5’3″ 250lb man walked up on me and grabbed me and started to dance. According to my friends, I “recoiled in horror” and ran away. They insist that I did it in his face, I’m sure I looked away. Either way, alcohol diminishes my ability to control my looks of disgust. Now that I’m aware of this issue, I will work to maintain a straight face when faced with the gruesomeness of an obese midget grabbing my waist. FYI: My terrified face didn’t bother him. He came back to try to dance with me moments later.

I learned a lot last weekend. I learned that wearing a sparkly tee-shirt can give someone the power to give someone else an erection. I learned that ninjas should never sneak up on unsuspecting individuals. I learned that a $20 tip keeps your bottomless mimosas even more bottomless. I learned that if you don’t shed a tear when you’re laughing, you haven’t laughed hard enough. I learned that my friends are, without a doubt, better than yours.

Internationally Known

Dateline forgot to add one more statistic to the flaws of Black men.  Not only are they undereducated, incarcerated, undercover homosexuals with five baby mamas and seven kids.  They also have never traveled outside of the United States. I was unaware that the Bougie Black Folk Code of Conduct required that one must possess a passport and have used it for more than identification when their license was held in lieu of bond for that speeding ticket. I’m first generation Uppity, so perhaps my daughter will be better prepared to navigate through the unspoken rules of sadditiness. While I’m more than willing to abide by the BBFCC, I’m almost positive that the passport requirement is based on some pretty faulty logic. I tried to look at it objectively and I was still unable to make heads or tails of it. It’s not like BBFCC Article II that maintains that all members must possess at least a Bachelor’s degree from a non-online institute of higher learning. Nope, Article IX (Passportness) throws me off and I can’t shake the feeling that it is completely flawed.

The likelihood that the well-traveled man has assholish tendencies is much higher than the untraveled man being a close-minded fool who never wants to step foot off his block. MUCH higher. As a matter of fact, I’m gonna put this out there and venture that the well-traveled man might be the one who is less yielding. I’ve met quite a few men who have never left the United States and the vast majority of those men haven’t done so for many reasons, but few include: Fuck the rest of the world!! USA!! USA!!! Many men are interested in things that they can do and see right here at home, so they travel locally not because they’re ignorant about the rest of the world, it’s just that you can gamble AND see strippers in Vegas. This doesn’t mean they’re unwilling to travel outside of the states. They just haven’t. Now, the well-traveled brother who has skied in Switzerland and swam in the Mediterranean Sea just might think he’s too good for your Paris trip with your girlfriends. Or he might be an adventurous soul who expects you to spelunk with him…sorry…I don’t fuck with caves…and frowns upon your unwillingness to become one with the guano. So now here we are with a man who has circumvented the globe and poopoos on your trip to Amsterdam or the man who’s been to Vegas twice (and that’s it) who would love to chase you around the Great Pyramids of Giza. Are you willing to go to Walgreens with the guy who knows when to double down to take a couple of passport pictures or would you rather take your chances with Mr. Frequent Flyer Miles who opens your passport to page 11 and scoffs?

That was extreme, so I’ll be a little more realistic. Like you, he’s been to Europe, Africa, Asia, AND South America. Unlike you, he went to Lisbon with Lisa, made love to Lynette in Lagos, met Laura in Lijiang City, and came home from Lima with Linda. You went to Portugal, Nigeria, China, and Peru either alone or with your girlfriends. He’s gotten laid on every continent except Antarctica (February 2015 BITCH!!!!) so while you two may share travel destinations, do you really want what you have in common to include one of his exes? Shared experiences are awesome and all but I swear, if both of us went to Milan and I went with my bestie and he went with his ex-bitch, I really don’t wanna talk about it. I think I just might be ok with a man who ain’t never been nowhere, because I know when we touch down in Costa Rica, I’ll be the only person he’s touched down there. Owww!!!

I’m from the westside of Chicago – born and raised. I’ve lived here for 32 years and there are still things I haven’t experienced. There are 50 states in the union. I haven’t even been to half. There is so much to see here in these United States…the natural beauty of the Northwest, the glamorous life of LA and New York, the rich history of the original 13 colonies. The experiences and cultures of the citizens of ONE country vary so greatly, it’s like having 50 different countries in one place. Am I supposed to be impressed by a man who’s been to San Tropez but has never been to St. Louis? Hell, I know people in Chicago who have no clue that when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr stayed in Chicago, he lived in the North Lawndale neighborhood, a place Bougie Black Folk are afraid to go (with good reason, but stop being a pussy). Four of Chicago’s most magnificent public parks – Garfield, Columbus, Humboldt, and Douglas – are ALL located on the westside and I’m supposed to be impressed that you’ve been to parks in Germany, but never set foot in the Garfield Park Conservatory? Maybe I’m just not bougie enough, but I’m not in awe of your world travels when you haven’t seen half of what your own city has to offer.

Perhaps I need to review my BBF handbook because there are things that I need to reevaluate about my Bougieness. Is world travel another device to separate the haves from the have nots…like going natural and dogging light skinned folks for not being black enough…cuz I’ll be damned if I grow out this perm. Some BBF spend so much time worrying about being brand name and proving themselves to no one in particular, they don’t pay much attention to how superficial they are and how little their requirements truly effect their lives. If you’re still stuck on that world-traveler, I know a man who’s been all over the world…he might embarrass you with his ignorance…but he’s been places!

YOU Might Not Have Kids But They Still Exist

I’m a parent. In addition to raising a child, I also enjoy the company of people of the male persuasion as well as grabbing a few drinks with the girls from time to time. Becoming a parent doesn’t eradicate these desires and whether you’re single, married, or in a committed relationship, the need to enjoy the company of someone who is at least of voting age isn’t just for the childless. No matter what you all think, people with kids are just like you people without kids…except most of us had a priority shift shortly after the morning sickness wore off. For some strange reason, the childless tend to say or do things that are pretty freaking insensitive…I get it, we know what it’s like to be you and you have no clue what it’s like to be us. Here’s where Jay Kay helps you all out and let’s you know when you’re being a douche.

You say: Why can’t you just get another sitter?!

We hear: Why can’t you just scroll through your contacts and abandon your child with whoever answers the phone first?!

If we say childcare is an issue, childcare is an issue. Most parents are pretty cautious about who they leave their children with. (See Penn State rape scandal) Parents usually have a limited number of individuals they will entrust their precious offspring with and we feel very murderous when you suggest we go outside of that select group. If my mother suddenly cancels at the last minute, then sorry, I’m not going to be able to make it. Speaking of sitters….

You say: Let’s hang out Tuesday AND Friday AND Saturday….

We hear: Sitter for Tuesday – $30 Sitter for Friday -$40 Sitter for Saturday – $50…

Our funds are already depleted on shit like Play-Doh and braces and juice boxes. A night out involves way more money than you’re going to have to shell out for the evening. When you want us to hang out more than one night during the week, even if we are willing to leave our kid in the care of that awesome sitter we found on eBay, we have to spend money before we even leave the house! You get one night per week and during peak seasons (Christmas, birthday, anything costing me money), you might be lucky to get once a month. Speaking of money…

You say: Let’s eat at Chez Bougie Frou Frou Les Dinero

We hear: And you can order bread and tap water with lemon.

Ok, so maybe every outing can’t be at Pizza Hut but they can’t be at the most expensive new hot spot in town, either. Parents definitely need to splurge on themselves every once in a while, but if we see $$$$ on Yelp for every restaurant you recommend, we’re gonna start asking you to chip in on the college fund. It might not even be that we can’t afford $$$$ but some parents would rather spend $$$ on dinner to make sure they have enough $ for those juice boxes. Speaking of Chez Bougie Frou Frou Les Dinero…

You say: No kids allowed again…

We hear: I really don’t want you to come again…

There are places I don’t want my child to be: the bar, my bed, anywhere I might wanna drink alcohol or have sex. I gladly accept invitations where there will be no children – as a matter of fact, I LOVE THOSE INVITATIONS!!! But if your home is a childfree zone and you wanna be the official hostess of Bears, Beers, and Brunch, I might begin to believe you just don’t want me around. I totally understand that not every event is appropriate for children, but if every event you host is not for children, please don’t cop a ‘tude if I’m not able to make it. Speaking of copping a ‘tude…

You say: Do you always have to talk about your kid?

We hear: I want to talk about my drunken sexcapades and your stories of Junior’s science fair victory makes for a very creepy segue.

We have different lives now that I’m a parent and you’re trying very hard not to become one. I’ll try very hard to limit my conversations about Cinda to one Aw story per phone call, but dammit, I’m expecting to only have to hear one “…and then I woke up with my panties on the lamp and his boxers under my pillow…” story per month. The most interesting thing in a parent’s life is their child(ren) and if we have more stories about rum than report cards, you should probably call DCFS. Speaking of DCFS…

You say: Anything involving parenting advice

We hear: I just feel like hearing myself talk

Sorry, but if you’re not a parent, your advice is falling on deaf ears. Stick to your own areas of expertise.

Before anyone gets all pissy, yes, I know I chose to become a parent. I accept all the responsibilities that go along with the career. Parents aren’t asking for special treatment, we just need you childless folks to be considerate if you plan on remaining our friends. Most of us love being moms and dads and wouldn’t trade our lives for the world. Many of us have become better people, more responsible, caring, loving, and even better friends to you. Remember that time you threw up all over the bathroom? Pre-parent us would have taken pictures and posted them on facebook. Mom and Dad clean your drunk ass up and let you crash on the couch instead letting you lie in your own bile in front of the toilet. Take that into consideration the next time you make a snarky ass comment about parents being lame.

You’re On Your Own: Good Riddance to the Monster-Un-Law

I don’t believe in haters. What I do believe is that there’s a disproportionate number of individuals whose happiness is based on the misery of others. These people are incapable being unhappy alone, and want to drag you down to their unfortunate level of wretchedness. My mother-un-law is the embodiment of melancholy, the personification of despair. I understand why she is the way she is; her father was an abusive drunk, her son is a hopeless drug addict, and her daughter hightailed it the fuck out of Chicago to California, as far away as one could land on the contiguous United States. Sometimes, I feel kind of sorry for her. Her only joys in life are cooking (I think I’d like her more if she did it well) and Jacinda. Unfortunately, she’s found a way to allow her dissatisfaction with life to influence her relationship with me, and as a result, her granddaughter.

She enjoys saying things like, “It’s not about me. It’s not about you. It’s about Jay-cinda.” Imagine me saying this in a Vietnamese accent. Yes, it is very ignorant, yet, I am unable to tell a mother-un-law story without the accent. During our last discussion about my requirements and expectations, she let that shit fly about it not being about me and this time, I didn’t let it ride. It is about me, dammit. My mother-un-law is under the mistaken impression that she is allowed to totally disregard my feelings under the premise that she is putting my baby’s best interest first. What she fails to understand is that abiding by MY wishes is putting Jacinda’s best interest first. A miserable mother does not a happy child make and doing ratchet shit to make me mad, then accusing me of being hostile is just pathetic. It took me seven years to conclude that this woman needs a psychologist to rid herself of the sadness she refuses to let go of and I refuse to allow her to drag me down with her any longer. Instead of bitching and complaining to my friends about how miserable she is, yesterday, I very politely and respectfully told her that if she didn’t want to follow my rules, she could take the stick from out her ass and beat her own self in the head with it. I’m done allowing her untreated psychosis to drive me crazy. She’s on her own.

Fantasy Chicks 2011

Football season is nigh. Girlfriends will be dragged to football parties, wives will be forced to slave in the kitchen heating up trays of hot wings, and side chicks will be ignored completely every Sunday and Monday and some Thursdays and Saturdays until February. (Getcho Tuesday on, Boo!) In order to survive the long, cold months from kick-off to Super Bowl, some women have taken to actually learning about football, realizing they enjoy the game, and even joining fantasy leagues. The fantasy game is serious business and a few men I know won’t play with women because they want serious competition, not a team drafted on the merits of the players’ nice bodies – which are pretty fucking nice. Since I’m THAT Fantasy Chick, I’ve decided to give the ladies a few pointers to make sure they NEVER place last in their league – maybe even win the whole thing.

1. Fuck for tips Oh the places you will go. I was dating a guy and I refused to give him any until I got my lineup straight every week. I am an advocate for withholding sex for the right reasons and saying, “Baby, we’re not going to bed until my starters are set” every Saturday night is perfectly ok. “I’m not tired yet” and tapping on the computer screen is equally acceptable.

2. Don’t play in the same league as your SO He is not your man during football season. He is your mortal enemy. He will sabotage you. He will taunt you. He will make you look like an idiot. He will not give half a shit about your feelings. You will hate him. Y’all will break up.

3. Play in two leagues Play with friends in one league and strangers in the other. You can study what owners are doing in one league and trade, bench and start accordingly in the other. Also, you can seek advice without being a lecherous owner. (I hate when people from my league ask me shit.)

4. Play for money You’re more likely to play more effectively with cold hard cash on the line. Nobody likes to lose. Everybody hates to lose money.

5. Research Read articles, bookmark sports pages, follow sports blogs, watch Sportscenter. Actually knowing what the fuck you’re doing goes a long, long way.

6. DON’T GIVE UP!!! I hate the Packers, but those douchebags were 10-6 in the regular season last year and won the Superbowl. You may have lost 4 in a row, but that doesn’t mean you’re out. It’s Any Given Sunday, baby!

Hopefully that was helpful to all of you new Fantasy Chicks out there. May your season be long, prosperous, and filled with Ws.

THAT Fantasy Chick

That is all.

99 Problems – The Final Chapter

The Final 19

81. I’m going to the Bears vs. Lions game in Detroit with all of my cousins and their significant others. I’m the only one without a significant other.

82. I just spent $11 on a $2 stuffed animal at Great America.

83. I feel bad about fussing about my landlords because they’re sending me a check for my damaged property.

84. Sometimes, guys pretend to only want a platonic friendship from me when they really want more then act like a pussy because they know I like that damn boy I like….oh wait, is that a problem about a bitch? Do over!!

84. I want another kid, except by the time I find a boyfriend, get married, and settle down, I’m afraid my body won’t bounce back.

85. My mother-un-law just called me to “help pay for Cinda’s dental work” a little more than 24 hours after I already paid for it.

86. My employer-funded life insurances lapses on the 31st.

87. I don’t have enough room on my ipod to sync all of the music I have in itunes.

88. Pretty soon, I’m not going to be able to get my hair done weekly.

89. My social calendar doesn’t necessarily align with being a parent.

90. Hurricane Irene is trying to put a damper on my Miami trip next week. *get it?*

91. I own plenty of dresses to wear to fancy places…I have no fancy places in which my fancy dresses can be worn.

92. My hairdresser only works Wednesday – Saturday.

93. One of my upstairs neighbor always takes my wet clothes out of the washer and puts them ON TOP of the dryer.

94. If I forget to bring my dryer sheets back into my apartment, they won’t be there when I go back out to get them.

95. I’m out of sour cream.

96. I only own two wine glasses. They don’t match.

97. I need to convince my old university that those two Fs I got were due to stress. (They were)

98. I never got to see Amy Winehouse perform live.

And FINALLY……

99. I actually sat down and wrote a post about 99 of my problems. I really DO have a problem.

As you can see, my life is far from perfect and far from horrendous as well. Truthfully, this wasn’t as meaningless as it appears at first glance. By typing out a few of my problems, I also came up with a few solutions. Listing my issues was pretty cathartic, publishing them was just me believing you all care enough to read about them.

That is all.

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