Manic Monday

Today is a day full of randomosity. I'm serious, get ready for this y'all. {This is a super long entry.}
I actually went to school today only to find out that my teacher was sick and wouldn't be in at all. Which means we have two work periods...so I stayed for a couple hours did some work and then another class was scheduled for my computer lab so I had to leave and wouldn't be able to get in for at least three hours. And unfortunately that is the only computer lab that has the software that I needed. I printed off all my work, packed up my books and came home. So now I am at home writing to you - my fans.
First off, I have been tagged to blog about my crushes but that's for tomorrow or some other day.

Second, I'm not sure what this is but I like it. Okay I know what it is. It's the Scissor Sisters and quite frankly they are frightening to watch but I like to listen to them. I have been listening to them all weekend. They are disco sounding according to my parents who have suffered through them all weekend. I'm completely addicted to them and I know that they are weird and what not but for some reason I can't turn them off.

Third - Saturday nite my Dad and I met KK at the bus stop so she wouldn't have to walk home alone in the dark. However we got on the topic of how little kids often make up secret languages to communicate with one another. Well my Dad told us about his secret language with his friends. Which he apparently kept until he was about fourteen years old. This was hilarious. And it gets better. He gave us an example. I'm not sure of the exact pronunciation. But here goes. Push De Malaka try saying it like this PUSH - DEE - MA -LA -KAW.
He used to yell Push De and if his friend was around his friend would respond with Malaka. Then to demonstrate on the way home, my Dad started yodelling this phrase "Push De Malaka." Yes. I'm sure the neighbors loved this at 10pm. He told me to keep this a secret and not to tell my mom but I could not hold something this juicy inside. I burst through the front door and told my mom this and she laughed hysterically. So, now we have this running joke in our house. We have decided next time we loose him in the mall or somewhere we are just going to holler "Push De" and wait for him to respond with "Malaka" like a foreign version of Marco Polo.

Fourth - I don't think my Grandma listens to me. She stopped by on the weekend with my baby cousin who looks exactly like J. Exactly. It's a little creepy. But anyways moving on. My Grandma said she wanted to visit with me this week and asked what days I was working. I told her that I was working Tuesday and Thursday. I told her that I have class until four pm on Mondays and Wednesdays. So after I told her this she asked "So is Tuesday a good day to come by?" And once again I explained to her that I had a five and a half hour shift that night. And she said okay then I will see you Tuesday night." And with that she left. Thanks Grandma. I'm so glad you heard a word I said.

Fifth and this is the last thing I promise. It is hilarious. This was sent to me from a classmate and it gave me a good laugh this afternoon.

Guess this speaks to how it pays to be polite (or you never know what can happen!!!
Well.... Here goes:
As I promised my girlfriend, I started anger management classes recently...
The instructor told us that the best way to get a hold of your anger was to do something constructive with your anger and channel it to a project which will bring you satisfaction... so....
I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it.
A man answered, saying "Hello." I politely said,
"This is John. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?"
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right f***'in number!" and the phone was slammed down on me.
I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.
When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.
After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.
When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an asshole!" and hung up.
I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it in my desk drawer.
Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an asshole!"
...It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "asshole calling" would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is James Smith from the Verizon. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?"
He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!".. and hung up.
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black BMW cut me off and pulled into the spot I had patiently waited for. I hit the horn and yelled that I'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me.
I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his back window which included his phone number, so I wrote down the number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his number on speed dial) I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole, too. I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes, it is", he said.
"Can you tell me where I can see it?" I asked.
"Yes, I live at 3412 Taft Street, in Hollywood. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked right out in front."
"What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Don, you're an asshole!"
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. Then I came up with an evil plot.... I called Asshole #1. "Hello."
"You're an asshole!" (But I didn't hang up.)
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen" - I said in a very deep voice.
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at 3412 Taft Street, in Hollywood, what's a pantywaste like you going to do about it?
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don.
And you had better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole," and hung up.
Then I called Asshole #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are."
"You'll what?" I said! "
I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 3412 Taft Street, in Hollywood and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called news channel 9 about the gang war going down on 3412 Taft Street.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Taft.
I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew.
NOW I feel much better.... SATISFIED Anger management really works..