So these past 48 hours have been interesting to say the least. I was set to tutor some more of the little Brainfuse brats that afternoon after I got back from the Dept. of Labor for yet another mind-numbing mandatory lecture to keep my unemployment benefits (which ironically, I won’t be receiving until next week). The topic? “Why Your Wack-Ass Resume Ain’t Getting You Hired.”
Oh joy.
So Taurean was supposed to pick me up at noon so I could head down there, because I knew that once the seminar let out, it would be at least an hour until a bus came, and I had a tutoring session at 2:00. The lecture started at 1:00, ended at 1:30. Driving, I’d be back home by 2:00. Ten minutes by car. An hour and a half by MARTA. I have got to get some wheels.
So noon rolls around…and no Taurean.
I call his cell phone; he’s turned it off.
12:05pm. Nothing.
12:10pm. Nothing.
12:15pm. I leave the house and try to make it down to the Dept. of Labor. Someone’s got some explaining to do.
By the time I make it down to the Dept. of Labor, I’m too late for the lecture and they don’t let me in. My claim is re-denied and is scheduled for re-appeal. So now I’m really mad, because Taurean is still not answering his cell phone. I ended up sitting on a muddy embankment for an hour and a half before a bus finally came to go back to a train station. While waiting for the bus, Brainfuse calls and tells me I’m fired for missing my session. Shit. And here comes the bus, which wouldn’t have been so bad had it not been packed to the brim with loud ass ghetto hoodlum kids from Open Campus.
So I get home and I am pissed beyond belief. No sooner than I set foot in my apartment does the phone ring; it’s Taurean. I decide not to even answer it; last thing I need is to blow up on him for being a punk, so heretofore he shall be referred to in this blog as B.A.N. I’ll trust you have the adequate cognition to decipher that acronym on your own.
In a complete turnaround, a guy that I had been talking with for a good little while online hit me up to see how my day went. I sort of minced words with him; he was one of many men who believed that just because we stayed in the same city and lived just a few miles apart, we never needed to meet; let’s just get to know each other over the safe space of the I-net. So when he offered to come over and cook dinner, I damn near jumped at the chance. At last – intimate human companionship!
So when we met up…
[To be continued in the private journal.]
You are so gangsta…who knew… I don’t know if I should be proud or very concerned after getting the 411.
At the end of the day just do what is best for you and realize dead weight when u see it, trim the fat and keep it moving.
That sounds like the worse day ever… At least it sounds like u got lucky that evening… That could be a sign that things will be looking up…
Well what happened with dinner? What did the guy look like? Whats the 411……did u get u some (lol)
ok – your site is hil-er-e-ous – my own spelling! Loved the F valentines day – Will mos def be back
Awful day!! Almost makes me forget that I had to spend 11 hours with Ghettoquisha at work today. Sorry, baby.
Gimme that password. Gimme! Gimme ! Gimme!
E-mail me with private passage! I need one of those… not just to see yours but I need one on my site as well, that’s pretty schnazzy… maybe I could charge people to read it *mmmm* money.
Gotdamn! Talk about the day from hell.