I love my job - I'd hate to be POTUS

Don't get me wrong. Some days are ROUGH at Heifer International's headquarters. I come in behind on deadlines, get a bunch of new work piled on me, am pulled into a million directions that change constantly, and often leave late after accomplishing very little. It can be VERY frustrating.

The mission is SO huge AND noble: ending hunger and poverty and caring for the Earth. After growing up so poor with little access to opportunity for higher education to even inspire the thought that things will get better, I'm just connected to the organization and what we do. I basically shrug off the (majority of the) stress and come in the next day determined, yet again, to make a difference.

I know I'm not a roofer or ditch digger working in 100 degree weather, or a police man, firefighter, or soldier risking my life for others, or a teacher trying to educate your disrespectful children. I'm not crying about how hard my job is.

You should know that I have been the McDonald's drive thru worker, day care worker, and customer service rep in the call center, so I've got some diversity in my work history. You better believe that! I have had folks cuss me out, hang up on me, throw food at me. Hell, the restaurant I worked at was stuck up one time by a guy with a gun!

That ain't shit!

No matter how hard I try, I can't think of a job that's rougher than what Barrack Obama is dealing with in his role as President of the United States. I mean, Wow!

Republicans are determined to block all of his efforts at improving the country. The undercover racist folks are now crawling out of the shadows. Of course, they group together under names like "Tea Party" and such, but sometimes you've got to call a Spade a Spade. {Yeah, I know it kills them to be referenced as a Spade, but it works.} Close-minded people - the true haters - who have determined that God doesn't love gays, or women who use birth control, or people who want equal rights to health care and/or education - don't miss an opportunity to put a finger in his face, question the origins of his birth, or just load money into Super PACs that are focused on defeating him. Shit, they do everything short of calling him the N-word. . at least in public.

I feel for the man. I really do. But today, he received a small win thanks to the Supreme Court (SCOTUS ) upholding his Health Care bill (aka Obamacare).

http://www.cnn.com/2012/06/28/politics/supreme-court-health-ruling/index.html?hpt=hp_t1

Congratulations President Obama. You got my vote in November.

Life is short and then you die. .don't be miserable in the meantime

Sometimes we find ourselves in relationships that we know that we know that we know that we are not supposed to be in. I mean, ALL the signs are there. But you just have a hard time reading them because they are either really sporadic, increase gradually, or there are just SO many that you just can't believe a problem and solution would be so. . well. . OBVIOUS.

Well, sometimes it's easy. And I'm gonna give you the signs that I've learned from my own life.

Here are the warning signs that you should un-choose your mate IMMEDIATELY.

1. You hate the way your partner smells: pre-bath, post-bath, during a bath, or all of the mentioned time slots.
2. When your partner kisses you, you find yourself immediately wiping the kiss off with the back of your hand, brushing your teeth, flossing, soaping your face, then showering.
3. You determine that you hate the way your partner dresses, and resolve to address the issue by avoiding being seen in public with him.
4. It makes you cringe when your partner does any of the following: calls your name, touches you, looks at you, or enters the room.
5. Your partner's sleeping and awake sounds are equally annoying.
6. You feel like answering a phone call or text from your partner should be reserved for emergencies, national holidays, or his birthday.
7. The stuff that you use to think was sweet is now just creepy: all them damn flowers, phone calls, conversations, gifts, pet names.
8. You identify a few distinct patterns that you and your partner use to interact with one another: polite, public, labored, or angry
9. The thought of being left alone with your partner causes you to avoid going home.

Now, if your signs include a black eye, swollen lip, cut tires, or a general fear of violence from this fool, please forget about looking for any additional signs. You were not born into this world to be some crazy person's punching bag. Get a damn clue and RUN!!!!

For those of you that have a strong family unit, you gonna get some push back when you try to un-choose and bail. Don't even take it personal.

Your family wants to see you settle down and live the American dream, and they truly want to believe that your current partner can help you accomplish that. They are gonna tell you "Stick it out." "Hang in there." "It's not THAT bad." "It will get better." "Nothing's perfect."

Yeah ok.

But life is short. . Real short. . And Sometimes being by yourself is the most obvious choice. . At least until God sends you what he wants you to have.

Quick Update from 1/7/13.
. . and then I exited the long, dark tunnel. . and saw that the sun was shining. Life is indeed good again.

Oh *#%@&! You just can't be cussing around here!

I mean, seriously?!

The residents of Middleborough, Massachusetts voted to outlaw cussing?
http://news.blogs.cnn.com/2012/06/12/massachusetts-town-puts-20-fine-on-profanity/?hpt=hp_bn1

Well, daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn! Ooops.

Momma did say if you can't say anyhing nice, don't say anything at all. I guess by outlawing cussing, they also outlawed noise, too.

I think that's some bull *#%@&!

Where NOT to buy bootleg DVD's

. . at the swap meet in the parking lot.

Yeah, that kinda kills the build up huh? Yeah, I know, but keep reading. . you wanna know why not, right?

So, I'm in Maryland at the Swap Meet. . doing it up like a professional: scoping out every store before I make a selection, looking all snobby so the vendor does not think I'm interested, haggling over everything from clothes to shoes to accessories. Yeah, I grew up at the Houston (Texas) swap meet. I know what I'm doing.

I didn't buy a lot. I just couldn't find enough to justify the $27 bag check fee at the airport. (Yes, I was building that into the cost of most of the items I was looking at). So, when I stepped into the parking lot after my little shopping venture was done, I was still up by a few bills.

When I walked outside some lady walks up to me and the group I was with and asked if we wanted to buy some CD's or DVD's. Yeah, I thought I was done, but CD's/DVD's are little. Even if I bought a dozen, I could stuff them in my suitcases, so this would be an at cost purchase.

I was open to the thought. I mean, how bootleg can bootleg CD's/DVD's be, right?

Good question. So, let me answer that for you.

So, the lady who gets our attention, and a little girl who I was not completely sure who she belonged to, walked the group I was with over to a van. The van door opened. And I swear I was wondering how a low-end van had the little push button door slide when it happened. (It didn't). A man with a beard appeared seated in the back of the van, with one of those baseball game peddler pitches. {No, not the pitch that happens on the field. The one the guy with the hot dog cart has when he yells out, "Get your hot, roasted peanuts!"} But this guy was calling out big movie names. "I got your Snow White. Got PLENTY of Prometheus. Get at me for the Men in Black 3. I even got the 3D."

He had eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeverything in a cardboard box between his legs. They all looked like production house quality, with the really good covers that showed the actual movie title and scenes you'd see beside the movie theater marquee.

I was like shit! Forget about spending 50 bucks on a movie night. I'm coming in ahead of my swap meet trip and my next weekend plans. This is wassup.

Right? Mmmmmmmm, right. But stay with me here.

While the Bootleg Movie Vendor is doing his hot dog cart guy voice, the little girl approaches me and hands me a little slip of paper. "That's my Daddy's business card." She had written his name and phone number across little slips of paper she tore up to support her Daddy, the Bootleg Movie Vendor. Yeah, it was cute, touching, ghetto. . all that. I giggled, but this is my people right here. I'm STILL not surprised.

I beat the guy down for the price. . not enough. . and was content with 3 titles I got. I ain't saying which ones in case the feds Google and turn up this post. (IJS).

Anyway, I get home from my DC trip and finally settle down to watch my 3 bootleg DVD's. . and you know. . YOU know. . YOU KNOW!

I'm watching as dude opens his jacket after the opening credits. Middle Eastern subtitles are at the bottom of every screen. Every few minutes, some shadowy figure walks across the movie screen, the recorder's phone rings, or he puts his hand over the camera because the usher (who also walks across the movie screen) appears.

Typical ghetto bootleg craziness.

Yeah, I could've gotten this quality from the barber shop, or the hair store, or at the liquor store in the neighborhood where I could hunt Bootleg Movie Vendor down, tell him how sorry the copy was, negotiate for another movie for free, and act like I'm offended by the quality of a $4 flick.

But I wouldn't have gotten the experience. Shit, I STILL don't really know if the movie was good. But me and Baby Girl got a kick out of watching the production. We got exposed to shit you can't get for $50. . at least not by choice.