Good morning. As you all know, we’ve been following a story about a precocious little two year old and her family’s efforts to potty train her. Although they initially agreed to provide a daily report on their progress, the family has decided that this issue is too private to publicize. When pushed for an explanation, the little girl’s mother provided this written statement, “The treasure box is empty, the pull-up box is too, we’ll have to go another round, but we’ll go it without you!”
In other news:
Things are Looking up for Old Man McDonald
According to his wife, the swelling is all but gone on that back boil of his.
Could my job get any sillier?
Dear Younger Self,
I feel that it is my obligation, as your senior, to fill you in on a few things. I intend to speak in such a way that you should have no problem comprehending; however, in an effort to eliminate any misunderstanding, I will also use colloquialism most familiar to you.
I am in charge now and I will be sure and remain apprised of all important issues, including but not limited to, annual dental exams. (I run this. I’m the shot caller and you can trust and believe I’m gone stay woke on everything I need to, including keeping my grill tight). In the event that I go out, I will decide when I am to return home and I will not party until the wee hours of the morning. (I bail when I say so and I won’t be turnt when the lights come on.) As a responsible adult, I return all phone calls promptly, I socialize with people in my age group and I dress and behave accordingly. (I’m grown. I hit ‘em back on the celly when I can, I hang with my squad, my gear is always on fleek and I slay every time I hit these streets). Please understand that I enjoy a low key and private style of life where I make every effort to mind my own business. (I’m basic, not boujee at all, and I always stay in my lane). In the run of a day, I make no effort to belittle others – I’m not overbearing, loud or outwardly aggressive, and I never go to the extreme. (I don’t throw shade and I’m never extra.)
Also, I can honestly say that although I drink, I do not have my deceased father’s penchant for libations. (Ion stay lit). My dear younger self, through this letter, you should gain comfort in knowing that I am perfectly fine with where I am. You, on the other hand, are out of control. (Look bae, this letter should give you life. By the way you know you have zero chill, right?) So now, without further ado, I would greatly appreciate it if you would sit quietly in the memories of my subconscious and allow me to take it from here. (now that’s a wrap, bye Felecia!)
Your Older Self
The idea was to potty train an already two and a half year old little girl who reportedly comprehends and articulates exceedingly well for a child of her young years. This was to be a piece of cake for little girl and her family. That family includes a 53 year “old” mom and a 13 year old “mother hen”. Mommy, as she is lovingly called, decided to create a treasure box for the little girl. They would use butcher paper to cover a cardboard box then embellish it with pom poms, stick-on letters, tassels and anything the little girl’s heart desired (after all, this box would hold all sorts of treats and treasures). Mommy and “Tori”, the little girl’s big sister, were sure that this would be more than enough to encourage their little angel. Unfortunately, the little girl with the blazing blue eyes and the cute little button nose lost interest somewhere between wrapping the box and gluing the tassels on. She left the table, grabbed her juice, her tablet and her “Corey”, went to the bedroom and put herself down for a nap.
Looking for an opinion and I apologize up front if this offends anyone. (By the way if you are in fact offended, then obviously, you’re one of those people I’m referring to and you’re apparently not smart enough to read between the lines and grab this constructive criticism by the horns and ride it’s ass to the ground)… which is what I think I’d do… but I’m not the one on the other side of this keyboard, am I?
Ever heard someone say, “know what I’m saying”, when conversing? I happen to have several friends who use that question.. or statement… or whatever the hell part of the English language it is. Now in true sarcastic form, which happens to be my chosen form of speech, I often respond by saying “uh-huh” knowing damn well I not only don’t know what they’re saying, I don’t even give a shit at that point. When the first “know what I’m saying” comes out, I know that there are several additional grammatical murderS to follow- so I check the hell out.
Living my life like it’s golden……