I'll serve your ass like John McEnroe...

and if your girl steps up I'm smackin' da ho...LMAO




Yes, kiddies, I've found that little House of Pain gem known as Jump Around from 1994? 1995? How far back does that song go? I remember being bombarded with that in every bar, every club, even the Video Jukebox used to kill me with those damn bagpipes every 10 minutes. Good God, I hated that song. Didn't stop my crush on Everlast (even cuter than Eminem), but I was waaaay sick of that song.



Nothing cheers up a tired gal like some thug rappers, I'll tell ya. Between Erik B and Rakim's Don't Sweat the Technique now being used in a Target advertisement, the straight selling potential of a strong hook with some thumping bass is not lost on commercial America. I saw the Target commercial about a month ago, and my jaw dropped. I completely forgot about that song. They are boxing in the ad, too, so "Everlast" is everywhere. That got me reminiscing, too. About those damn bagpipes. My mind's been frazzled, I need to galvanize this anger.



I went home last night, after a truly agonizing week, and went straight to iTunes. 99 cents a song? I got me some House, some Cypress Hill, some Rakim, Tupac, and some Q-Tip, the only non-thuglet in the bunch. A scalding hot bath, a few $$$ later, and I was ghetto fabulous in my tub, with Dexter (the Original Gangsta) standing guard at the door. I took the phone off the hook, turned off the cell, and soaked for a good 40 minutes. I feel absolutely renewed.



And now, for my latest rant...(deep breaths, kiddies!)



Ain't nothing going on today in the office, except maybe fraud. There’s an incredible rumor that PB is getting an office. How in hell, I don’t know. OH, wait! I get it: incompetence, stupidity, and the enjoyment of bossing other people around. That makes for good management. The less they do, the higher up they go. My lips may be chapped, but certainly not from kissing anyone’s ass. Never will be either. Let’s see if I ever get to $40K in this place. I will now shamelessly admit I’ve starting buying lottery tickets. If I win? Good luck finding me, kiddies. There will be no reaching my cell phone, because I won’t need one anymore.



And now, she’s supposedly not here next week. I’m left with all the undone contracts, the changes for our legal department, the filing, the shit that’s been sitting here since the end of September. Nice.



Of course, I get a lame “thank you.” Such crumbs are considered nourishment around here. I guess my Strawberry/Old Navy/Conway digs and three-year-old PayLess shoes ain’t cutting it. If I were a competitive bitch who can’t spell with Dior perfume, I’d have two assistants by now.



Makes me wanna Holler.



Whew! I feel cleansed having said that.



But the headache is temporarily gone, and my legs don't hurt today.



Maybe I'll hunt for some Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth tonight. RD and I are taking a lovely trip for some mushrooms. (Portabello's, not Cypress Hill.) And we'll laugh. We always do.