If it's not Raven, it's crap...

Word. It's been a long year, baby. Can't really say more than that. Well, ok, I could say a LOT more than that...but I won't. So, suck it 2005... 2006...bring it on. P.S. Happy 100th post to me.

Cristal...c'mon, serio? My Phone Conversation with Cristal on My Lunch Break Me: So, what did the doctor say about Dad? Cristal: I dunno, something about how he's got ammonia... First off, I'd really like to bitch right about now about how he should have made an appointment like three weeks ago to get all checked out, but then we'd have a serious case of potcallingthekettleblackitis on our hands. Instead, I will sit back and let grown folks make their own damn decisions and let them live with the consequences. But Cristal...for real...ammonia? What are you like 5-years-old?! Thought we cleared this kinda shit up in speech therapy years ago...

If you get drunk and/or high and random things will happen...it's this thing we do At the moment, I can't think of something amusing to write. My brother Remington left a few hours ago and my heart sank. But Pamtastic told me some really nice stuff earlier, and if there's one thing that boosts my spirits it's hearing people say nice things...about me. Also, I like how the "Pamtastic" thing has caught on...I personally feel like it's more clever than Pamalicious, cause you can work that whole pun thing in there...fantastic...Pamtastic...barbeque...I like you...I like you too. Trust me it works on so many levels. Anyway, Päm, I hereby designate you Official Brown Person of the New Year's Party. If Wonfuzius will be there, he'll be the Official Asian...but you know how them model minorities be. You've got to hold it down for the sistas in my absence. And by "hold it down" I mean get drunk as shit... On a completely different note, here

It got pretty hectic in the kitchen yesterday, while I was making breakfast, so I enlisted Tunde's help for the hash browns and we sent Remy to the store to get something to drink. Tunde said that he wanted some fruit punch drink and I told Remy that they sell Hawaiian Punch at Dollar Tree. I would say Haiwaiian Punch most certainly falls into the category of "drink" because, let's be honest...it basically just sugar, water and (of course) red. It's like 5% juice from 7 different fruits and the label says that it's the "Fruit Juicy Red" Flavor. Not only did Remington come back with a bottle of Hawaiian Punch, he found the little gem pictured above as well. My mind was blown. It's not cranberry drink, nor is it just cranberry juice. It's a beverage with a serious identity crisis. However, I'm personally a little skeptical classifying it as drink -- simply because they're making way too much out of that 100% Vitamin C thing.

Let's just say that I've had the pleasure of celebrating Jesus' birthday in better ways. This year, I decided to forego the festivities that normally take place at my Aunt Mary and Uncle George's house. I didn't want to eat in the formal dining room or drink coffee and eat cake and exchange boring small talk and pleasantries for 4-5 hours before slowly inching my way towards the door. I have a hard time describing just how uncomfortable I am whenever I'm around my dad's side of the family (my grandma being the exception). Robbyn is much better at it, which is why she's gonna inherit all of the good shit. Anyway, I came to the decision I'm going to refrain from celebrating holidays with the white side of my family. Fuck drink coasters. I'll still drop in for the occasional visit to Grandma, though. Yesterday after work, I went to my brother Darron's house. Why? Well, because if you're looking for the anti-picturesque, Norman Rockwellish ve

Merry F***in' Christmas, motherf***ers Proceed directly to the hot fiyah. Brussels Sprout Flavor Ass-nasty. Like liquefied vegetables and butter...and it smells like...blleeeagchhhhh. Then the aftertaste is kind of sweet and you'll smack your lips and think, "Ok, that wasn't so bad..." So you try a little more, but it's still gross...but that damn aftertaste gets you all the time. We took another couple of swigs and then called the whole deal off shortly thereafter Ok, more later...cause Remy, Tunde and I are going to commence with the kicking it right now...

The best part is that there's a list of wines on the back that they recommend to drink along with the sodas...wtf?! In retrospect, I'm glad I fought the sulky feeling I'd been having all day in order to go Gillian's house. I got some scrumptious food and an early, unexpected Christmas gift to boot. Gill and her husband Dave got me a 5-pack of those Jones Soda Co. holiday flavored drinks. None of them sound particularly appetizing...save for the Pumpkin Pie...cause I loves me some pumpkin pie, biatches. But I'll toss them suckers in my mini-fridge, until they're nice and chilled, and give them a whirl over the next few days. I shall begin with the Brussels Sprout Flavor...just to get it out of the way. Anyway, after tagging him a few days ago Wonfuzius tagged me back with a request for a list of "seven favourite movies of the week/all times or whatever" And because I love him...I shall honour his request with my list of "Seven Movies That Are His

*shudder* At work, we sit in cubicle-like sections that resemble something like a honeycomb. Each section has seven seating positions. I am fortunate(?) enough to sit one seat away from a guy who resembles Fat Bastard from the Austin Power movies, except replace the fakey Scottish accent with an Okie southern drawl. There's five other people in my section and they affectionately refer to this guy as B.F.F.F (Big Fatty Fat F**k). There's actually an empty desk between me and him...but that doesn't stop him from scootching over to kick my chair so that he can tell me something pointless and lame that has happened to him recently. He always has something to say and he always has to say it very loudly. Except he gets winded when he goes off on one of his stupid rants... Today I set off his latest rant because he asked me if I was looking forward to Christmas. And, as a matter of fact, I am not. So I told him this. For me, Christmas hasn't been "cool" since I got t

Hooray for Boobies! Personally, I don't really want a product that I'm supposed to eat "filtered" through anyone's "cleavage". Still, it's one of the funniest things I've seen recently (not counting that dumb Sprint commercial where the guy is singing "Where the hood at?" to the tune of "Karma Chameleon"...which, I confess, is nevertheless very funny to me). Hmm, what else? I also must admit that I spent way too much time last night playing around on this page . It's mesmorizing... Lastly, I got tagged by Cupcake (who posted a hilariously disurbing story about Smith concerning her hairdryer and a Smithie who liked to go commando ). Anyway, Cupcake asked for a list of: "...seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now. Then tag seven other people to see what they're listening to." So

*Alright, so I don't have an AK, but I did see a sign that says "Hattery"...pretty close to having a good day, dontcha think? I'm taking my floating holiday from work tomorrow. Hooray for a paid day off! And hooray for having a paid day off before my two regular days off, which equals a 3 day weekend! At the beginning of the week! (Up is down, down is up, etc) Tonight, I went to Robbyn's office Christmas party. Robbyn works for our Uncle George (my dad's brother-in-law) and we're somehow randomly related to a lot of other people who also work for him...except we're brown. Uncle George is cool, he taught me the one card trick that I know and it makes me laugh (internally) when he talks because he sounds kind of like our current President George. Anyway, I got a delicious free steak dinner from Cattlemen's Steakhouse and I ended up with a nice little insulated lunch bag from the Dirty Santa game. It often astounds me sometimes that I'm related

Everyone's Favorite Problemkind Probably sensing that I would be low on material this week, my brother Remy sent me a short list of questions to answer...and I obliged...because he's right. Remy: What's it like being (technically) the middle child. Rave: On one hand, I’d say it’s pretty easy, because it’s like I’ve had zero pressure to live up to typical parental expectations. On the other hand, because of that very thing, I’ve created a whole bunch of expectations for myself…which I kinda keep not meeting…oh well one day, I hope. Remy: What's it like to be the "smart one" in the family. Rave: It makes me feel sad. For the rest of you. Because I'm not smart. However, I’ll take “smart one” over “dumbass” anyday Remy: What did you want to be when you grew up and what the fuck happened Rave: Let's play a little game What I wanted to be Bass player or drummer in a rock band What the fuck happened years of piano lessons and playing brass instruments in t

Remy: I remember that night we were already pretty saucy and we didn't keep the phone close enough It's snowing, blech... The best news of the day, courtesy of WWTDD.com . I don't care if it's only four new episodes, taped months ago...I need you Dave, for I cannot subsist on [adult swim] alone. To quote the aforementioned website, "I don't care if they air a live feed of kids with cancer getting chemo, it will still be more hilarious than Mind of Mencia". The second best news of the day is the most recent installment of late night answering machine antics that go on at my house. You may remember the first time my brother and his best friend Olatunde freestyled into the answering machine in the wee hours of the morning. Well, they did it again a few weeks ago. In fact, it happened to be the day after Thanksgiving and I accidentally caught them in the act, because I forgot to turn off the ringer on the phone in my room, but I hung up and let them go at it

I'm the kind of person who values a good memory or two. Or 5 billion. I'm not trying to say I have a photographic memory or anything, but when a moment arises and it's something special (for me) I like to file it away in my brain to recall again on a rainy day...or a sunny day...or whenever I find something presently happening to be boring. What happened, what was said, how I felt...and all that good shit...or bad shit...it goes both ways. When someone close to you has "memory issues", especially when that person is your parent, forgetting things sometimes takes a very scary turn (genes scare me). "I forgot" or "I don't remember" become dirty dirty words. This week, my mistrust of my own brain collided with my current obsession of saving money, when I bought bottle of juice at work. It was one of those glass bottles with the safety seal on the top (you know the kind you're not supposed to drink out of if you don't hear the lid pop).

check it fool

"...and I ain't payin for shit, I'm on the grind ho" The "stupidest" thing I've said all day (aside from the conscious use of the word janky , which we'll get to in a bit): "I apologize, sir, but a solution to your predicament is not going to come into fruition within the next 10 minutes...and yelling at me will not alleviate the problem at hand." ...was met with what seemed like an eternity of silence, before the customer responded with a resounding, "Huh?" I think I've been doing too many crossword puzzles in between calls. I've taken to standing up and pacing (as far as my cord will let me) when talking on the phone to difficult people. It's something I watched Doreen do a lot when I was in Dresden and I must say that it works. It really calms you down and makes you feel like you're in control and the bullshit will just start to fly out of your mouth. That said, kiddies, the vocabulary word of the day is janky .

For the love of god, someone please buy a bottle of ketchup...or catsup. Shit! I'm not picky The "good" thing about having moved back in with my parents is that I have way more freedom than I had when I was in high school (and I once threw a smallish homecoming party in our garage-bedroom, with both of my parents at home and copious amounts of liquor on hand. The party resulted in me puking in various spots throughout the house and hitting my head on the bathtub before passing out on the bathroom floor, where my mother found me the next morning...and amazingly almost no one was the wiser). The "bad" thing about living back at home now (and here I'm talking about everything aside from the shitbox that my personal life has become...so really just the petty stuff) is that it's like I've got 3 crazy-ass roommates. Take for example this ridiculous "condiment drawer" that we've accumulated. I mean, why doesn't someone just go out and buy