The Shyt Is Gettin’ Crucial…

First off let me say a big WAZ UP to all my readers (minions) who follow my insane blatherin’!    How the hell are ya?

Me – Well things are gettin a lil easier.   Folks,  I been in true turmoil since I set foot in Texas.  I’m almost wishin’ I had follow some sage advice and kept my ass in Cali.

(To The Sage:  Yeah – you told me so…)

The madness started almost immediately.  First, my baby Kula just hatted up on the third day.  I guess things were so different going from just me, her, and Kela to now THREE screamin’  three-year-old and Spongebob blarin’  in the background all the time.  She is skittish any way;  I think in real life that cat would have been on Xanax.  I guess I kinda knew it would take extra work to blend her crazy ass into this situation…     I miss her a lot; still.   I don’t think anything happened to her.  In my heart I truly believe she’s ‘prolly at home with a smaller, quieter, less crazy family. 

Next bomb on the horizon:    The movers who shipped my furniture and shyt, Cali Movers, Inc,  hiked the final price up on me, literally while it was on the road.  I negotiated a payment plan after “exhaustin’ all of my options” (translation: Nobody I asked would help a sista out.)     Now when its time to actually make these payments, I can’t reach these people at all- phone goes to voicemail and no one answers the emails.    So while I still make these useless calls and send these emails no one is gonna answer, I’m  tryin’  to wrap my head around the fact  that I have lost my whole life in this truck…    clothes and all.    This included – *gasp*- my computer. 

**Sigh**

And  the next  issue:  The livin’  arrangement and situation aint what it was lookin’  like, and to save my dayumm self and my one remainin’ cat  Kela,  I am hopefully makin’  my OWN livin’  arrangements happen this weekend.   That way,  I KNOW what the  fluck is goin’ on and whats bein’ paid and whats not and there will not be any notices tacked to any doors I have the keys to.   I wont  be sittin’ in the dark at any moment or stealin’ water from the neighbor.  I  goin’ back to  what I know to be ‘normal‘.

The Ultimate Issue:  In the midst of all this madness, my beloved father Theodore Hickerson Jr. closed his gorgeous brown eyes for the last time on Oct 21st.    I get a blind call in the early hours of that date tellin’  me the “plug was pulled”.  I didn’t even know he was sick, let alone in the hospital on his deathbed,  Also in that call his wifey,  Marilyn The Wicked Witch of Texas informed me she was cremating my father.  In a family full of Baptist pastors, there was not funeral.  I never even got to say goodbye.      I’m still tryin’ to absorb it all.

God did bless me with a piece of job that seems to be stable for the moment; enough for me to venture out on all the above   I’m askin’ my people to pray for me that these plans I’m makin’  will come to fruition.  

I’m too dayumm old for all this shyt…

dGb!

HEY FAMILY!!

I’m dippin’ in here to let y’all know I’m not abandonin’ ship.  This blogger is not goin’ away.

Still grapplin’ with the movers over my  shyt-which includes my baby, The Computer.   My gkids  have cruelly and brutally dispatched the Mac to greener pastures, so I’m at the library as we speak…

Hang in there with me; datGurl!  is workin’ on a plan.  I will be back with my wonderfully opinionated wit soon!

Until then, please feel free to browse the archives.  Just  like a box of chocolates, you don’t know WHAT the fluck you might find!

XOXO,

dGb!

(I apologize for the lack of graphics and my sig-again, I’m still without MY shyt…*)

The Ship Has Landed…

Actually the Greyhound Bus arrived, and that was about a month ago.  I just wanted to alert the few  people,  who actually love and care about me, that Me and the gurls made it safely to Houston TX and I’m now immersed in the most humid place in the entire world.  There is no need for lotion products.  They slide off within in minutes of steppin’  outside…

 

When I say “we” I mean all of us; me, Kela and Kula.  I only have Kela now.  Kula is no longer with us.  Another story for another day,  and I mos def plan to tell it to y’all.  Just not today.  It still kinda hurts. ♥

Top that with the fact that I’m on a borrowed comp; mine is bein’  held hostage.  Another story for another day.   So I hope you will understand why there are no graphics or sig line  on this post and maybe the next few.    I’m without my shyt!~

Work with me, folks.  Work with me…

♥

dGb!

♦ On the Road Again… Literally. ♦

packed n' ready!

Well, minions, I’m hittin’ the road back to the Lone Star State.   Leavin’ today…

I know.   I just got back to Calif, but things didn’t quite work out.  I’m just not feelin’ it.

As y’all know, I was unemployed for 10 excruciatin’ months till I got a job with a previous employer who moved part of his operation to Clovis CA.   That turned out to be a load of hot, crunchy crap.  The pay as lousy, they ran the shyt like a preschool .  I talked alot of shyt about how to talk to grownups in that buildin’- they made up the rules as they went along,  cut hours; I barely brought home a “livable” check.   I was miserable.  I had a lite stroke in that buildin’ in April, and that’s when I knew I needed to make a move.

My ole skool friends were a disappointment as well.  Most of them were standin’ almost in the same place I left them in; drunk as hell at the park, actively hatin’, fresh out of prison (or on they way back!) addicted to dope (*select one*), 2-3 more kids or grandkids.  Dead or dyin’.  I went to 13 funerals in 14 month time frame.

Also my son Ace, who lives in TX, decided (rightfully) that it would ‘prolly be best if I came there, since I live with two cats who can’t dial 911 in an emergency.  They have a set of twins, Wisdom and Adrian Jr., and then the notorious Sammy, and need all the help they can get.

I’m goin’ to chill and just be “Grandma” for a while…

The Gurls, Kula and Kela, left day before yesterday  with the ‘pet shippers’- yes,  there is a market for that these days.  Two nice ladies. They made me feel completely comfortable about givin’ them my precious cargo.  They’ve called me ever day they’ve been on the road.   Kula was pissed off when  they left, (they haven’t been in those carriers in a while),  and evidently is still holdin’ the attitude on the road,  from what they say.   She’s already bit the lady…   I got a lot of ‘splainin’ and ass-kissin’ to do when I get to TX.

I’m on my way this evenin’ at 6.  Got a good book, some good munchies, pack of cigs and bottled water.  That,  and some well deserved sleep, I should be fine.  Waitin’ on the furniture movers…

Next: Reportin’ LIVE from Houston TX!

Pray for a safe trip, y’all.  Toodles~

❤¸.•*”"*•.¸❤
datGurl!
❤¸.•*”"*•.¸❤

(*packin’ down the computer…*)

PSA: The Smurfs Are Racist!

who'da thunk it??

This convinces me there are people in the world who really don’t have enough to do with their time, and maybe should seek counselin’ and/or  medication.

Antoine Bueno is one of them.  The French sociologist has written a whole book, “Le Petit Livre Bleu” (“The Little Blue Book”) on the subject of ‘Smurf Racism’ (new term coined here!)

In it, he claims the lil innocent blue people are livin’ in a blue world packed with racial propaganda, a “totalitarian utopia, steeped in Stalinism and Nazism”.

Not the lil *blue* people???

Per Mr. Bueno, Papa Smurf is the dictator of the village; an authoritarian figure, and that their lack of private property and collective-style economy is a clear nod to socialism.   Meanwhile, their enemy seems Jewish: Gargamel, the monster that haunts the village, matches negative Jewish caricatures and his cat’s  name (the monster has a cat?)  is Azrael (and that means what?), the French author writes, while Smurfette, for a long time the only female in the village, is a blonde vision of Aryan perfection.

Get the f*ck outta here!

Actually, there were Black Smurfs. They were the sick ones; when the lil blue purple and red ones got stung by a fly (black at that!) they got sick, turned Black, and lost all trace of intelligence-went crazy.  ‘Completely moronic’ , in his words….they didnt even talk;  just made some crazy ‘gnap‘ sound.   US publishers refused to publish the first books for this reason.  Years later,  but before the animated series was developed in 1981, they were re-colored to purple.    The Purple Smurfs (original French title Les Schtroumpfs Noirs, literally The Black Smurfs) is the first album of the original French-language  ‘Smurfs’ comic series created by Belgian artist Peyo, first published in 1963.

The lil Black mofo’s do appear in the Black Forest level of “The Smurfs“  game for the Super Nintendo.  Just so you know…

And here I thought they were just innocent lil blue blockheads,  dancin’ in their innocent lil blue world…

Hollywood is not too happy about all this.  They are plannin’ a big budget 3D film about the Smurfs due for release in August.  Wonder how this will affect the bottom line…

*smh*

Ain’t life just grand?

#Weinergate: Weighin’ in…

This guy has a lot of ‘splainin’ to do.  Not sure how he’s gonna pull that off, but…

Anthony Weiner can forget about bein’ Mayor of NY.  Ever since the pic tweeted across America went live.  He says he’s innocent and not too much more.

The pic, of a man’s crotch with a woody, was tweeted from his account to college coed, 21 yr old Gennette (“I don’t know him, but I’m a fan”) Cordova, in Seattle.   So how does that happen?  HE says his account was hacked, but doesn’t want a ‘official’  investigation.  Really now?

When that mealy mouth mofo was on TV this mornin’ talkin’ about the taxpayers don’t need to pay for a lengthy investigation”, that was bullshyt.  I think his ass is scared that if they did one, they gon’ find out what we already kinda know: He’s a dayumm pervert and out of control.  (He’s hired a private an Internet security firm -to investigate how his account was supposedly hacked- and a whole dayumm law firm- his ass got somethin’ to hide…)

Of course he is denyin’ he sent the pic, and ‘cant say’ if the draws are his, and ‘cant be sure’ the pic is not of him.  Recent reports say he now is admittin’ it was a private pic that belonged to him, was manipulated (by who? how did they get it?), and taken out of context.  Top that off with  the first of what might be many Bobble-Heads comin’ out the woodwork (like they did Tiger; its been a trend ever since…) sayin’ she got “private” messages on Twitter from her ‘hero’, Mr Weiner.    She’s a porn star.  He follows a lot of women on Twitter who don’t have shyt to do with politics; Gennette is one of them.   Why??  Wifey should be askin’ that question right now.

And there may even be a connection between him and Lil Ms. Cardova.    How did this pic just randomly come to her, the ‘fan’?  Hackers usually send shyt to everybody they can.  Not just one person.  And she’s not outraged enough for me.  Regardless of who this man is in life, if someone would have sent me a pic of they Johnson at attention, unsolicited,  I’d be hot as fish grease, while Im tellin’  the world…     So what’s  really  goin’  on between these two?  When people follow each other on Twitter they can send private messages to each other.   Wonder if someone accidently hit “Reply to all” or somethin’?

His shyt is gettin’ raggedy as we speak.

The best thing he can do, in my humble opinion, is come clean and take his licks.  Forget about bein Mayor; that is not gonna happen.  There are way too many holes in his lil story right now.  And with the Bobble Head Porn Star gettin’ ready for her 15 Minutes of Fame, he’d better hurry up.

(and for the record, his shyt was hella little compared to some… I’m jus’ sayin’.)

Footnote:  Guys snappin’ pics of their shriveled johnsons seems to be all the rage.   Coupla days  before Weiner Man ,  Canadian Conservative candidate  George Lepp tweeted a pic of himself naked from the waist down legs crossed, “pee-pee” pointed up.  His excuse?  The photo was inadvertently snapped by his BlackBerry (its alive!)  when it (the photo and I guess the phone) was in his front pocket.   Evidently this cretin had all this goin’ on while gettin’ ready to ride the Niagara Falls.  Who ever this creepy mofo handed his precious BB to, must have found immediately (magically)  that accidently-snapped pic of his ass, that just happened to be in his  front pocket, for what reason we dont know, rushed to a computer and lobbed a major tweet.

Yeah, right.

dGb!

Drug Test Required for Welfare!

Looks like they goin’ hard in the State of Florida.  Gov. Rick Scott signed a law Tuesday that requires drug screens for adults applyin’ for welfare.

The law goes live July 1st.    The Florida Department of Children and Family Services will start requirin’ to  drug tests adults applyin’ to the state’s TANF program.   And the recipient pays for the test.  IF they pass and get approved,  the cost will be refunded to them in their check.   If the person doesn’t pass, they can get another person to recieve the benefits for their children, but they wont be eligible for one year or until they get treatment.    Fail the second time?   3 years till they can apply again.   (Ouch!)

I guess The Gov does have a point, when he says its unfair for Florida taxpayers to subsidize drug addictions.”

I see the ‘pros’ in this.  We all know Becky/Shaniqua and Cody/Jamaal with the houseful of kids and a phat-ass check and foodstamps.  They on crack/meth/E-pills/heroin (select one), and spend all the money on to get high, then sell the stamps to keep gettin’ high (and a pack of cigs and a beer/wine/’erk and jerk’).   When all that’s gone, they at community action agencies, lookin’ for food baskets, assistance with utility bills, and rent.   Not only have the taxpayers supplied the 1st check, they pickin’ up the tab on the ‘band-aid’ too.

Most of these people really are worthless, acceptin’ (in some cases, demandin’) the help, but not tryin’ to help themselves. Layin’ up in they bs.   No job trainin’ or further education, things that are offered to them to try and dig they asses out of the ditch they in…  These agencies will even keep the kids and they still won’t get off the couch.

So what about the ‘recreational weed smoker’? (the only one I can side with.  If you doin’  anything above weed, you need a 12-step program instead of a check.)

Anyway, the ALCU and some Florida Dems say its an invasion of privacy, and called it a “humiliating search of their urine and body fluids without cause or even suspicion of drug abuse“.

There will be some challenges, but its law today, folks.

So what do you think of this law?  Is it right?  Wrong? 
Why?

In ‘Celebrity Seed’ News..

Somewhere in Thug Heaven,  there’s a party goin’ on.  Christopher “Notorious B.I.G.” Wallace’s  baby gurl, T’yanna Wallace, recently graduated from high school.

how time flies...

That goes to show you that a rose can grow from concrete.

ღ˚ •。* ♥ ˚ ˚✰˚ ˛★* 。 ღ˛° 。* °♥ ˚ • ★ *˚ .ღ 。
*˛˚ღ •˚  Congrats, Baby Gurl!~. ~♥~˚ ✰* ★
\ ˚. ★ *˛ ˚♥* ✰。˚ 。* ˛˚ ♥ 。✰˚* ˚ ★ღ

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised!

Jazz great, Gill Scott-Heron  passed yesterday.  He was a young 62.  Reports are sayin’ he fell sick after returnin’ from a European trip.

This son of a Jamaican soccer player Gilbert “Gil” Heron and singer Bobbie Scott-Heron, was raised in Jackson Tenn by his grandmother.  He attended Lincoln U, mostly because Langston Hughes went there.

Gill wrote his first book at the age of 19, The Vulture,  along with his first album, “Small Talk At 125th and Lenox.  Both were published in 1970.  He was widely known as the ‘Godfather of Rap, and considered one of the first Spoken Word artist.  They just called it something else  in those days, guess…

“The Revolution Will Not Be Televised,” is touted as his best work, and he will be remember for that,  amongst other things in his 40+ yr career:

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o’clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back after a message
about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver’s seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

April 1, 1949 – May 27, 2011)

R.I.P, Soul Brotha~*

Lawsuit in the Makin’…

…And this officer, Eroilo Luna, should be fired, quartered and drawn for stupidity.

Douglas Brown spent two nights in jail over a strawberry-kiwi Snapple.  Aint that a bia?

Naw mofo, aint shyt funny here!

Doug, a pastry chef and former auxiliary cop,(!)  was ridin’ around with his friend, when the friend blew a stop sign and got stopped by the infamous Eroilio.   He had the Snapple, in a black plastic bag, between his knees when the cop gestured at it and ask what it was.   He told him and as the officer turned to walk away, Doug said, “I understand if he stopped me for the seat belt, or something. But a juice? You got nothing better to do?”

Shyt popped from there.  Next thing you know he is out of the mini van bein searched and arrested.   ‘Guess he got mad offended…

After two days in jail waitin’ to be arraigned, the judge asked if anyone had saved the Snapple bottle.  The cops threw it out,  and the judge did the same with the charges of resistin’ and obstructin’ justice.  He thought is was funny.

Doug is not laughin’.  He filed suit Tuesday against the city and the officer.

We’ll see who gets the last laugh…