My name is TL and this is my blog…Shooting ‘da Breeze…
Right now I am at work and there is a sort of lull in the day no meetings or important deadlines to adhere to. So I will start by telling yall a little about me.
I live in Northern California, I’ve lived here most of my life. I was born in Los Angeles but I was raised in the Bay Area… in Vallejo, California. You may or may not have heard of Vallejo. It has been somewhat put on the map in terms of hip hop culture via E40 and the like. Vallejo is a very small town that I hate, I really do. My baby brother, his wife and their children live there (well they are separated right now but I will tell you more about that in a minute). He still spends a lot of time there and I don’t see how he does it.
Everywhere he goes he must see someone we all know…he has to. Three popular kids in a family means lots of friends. He’s always telling me so and so said hi!
Oh and they still call each other by those stupid nick names from back in the day: “Ray Ray asked about you”.
I didn’t blossom until I was almost 15. Up until that point I was a really awkward looking child believe it or not, it was awful. I was breast-less about 4 feet tall and 90lbs soaking wet. I am still short about 5 feet (which really means 4”11).
I’ve stopped saying my actual height because I was on a date once and the gentleman said: “Just how tall are you”. I told him and he replied: “that’s like one chromosome away from being a midget”. Of course I smiled and giggled but I was thinking “you asshole”.
I hate Vallejo for that very reason. It’s always a crapshoot whenever you go there. As I mentioned beforehand, I blossomed by the 9th grade and high school was a blast but that doesn’t matter. The laws of hometown torture states, whenever you go home you shall never see the people that remember the good years. Oh no that would be too rewarding. It never fails that whenever I go to visit some brother will yell at me from across a street, room, parking lot, grocery store, or some other equally vast space: “ROBYNE, …is that you…girl…I remember when you had a flat-chest, acne and a curl”!
I never know what to say to something like that. I’m always thinking something evil but I never say what I’m thinking. You will notice over time that I think the total opposite of my actions sometimes. I always say and do the right thing no matter what I am feeling or thinking. I cuss people out in my head and on my website though. I think I have about 10 or 12 more good years before I snap, sounds crazy but it’s true.
What else can I say about me, I like to cook and I love football. Football season is my favorite time of the year. I bought a car not to long ago, my first one at that. I just learned how to drive shortly before then. It’s been a blast. It has changed my life tremendously.
Hold on my mom is calling me to tell me how she has changed her will to leave my little brother a dollar (Lord help us all)…….. She does this every year… last time I think it was me who was disinherited.
It will probably change a hundred times before she actually dies. I keep telling her she’s gonna mess around and really die while in the midst of one of her grudges with her children. And she’s going to really regret the decision to keep doing this. She claims she’s not going to regret jack if she is dead, which I don’t argue with because…. hell it’s a pretty good point.
I know this makes my family sound crazy but to be honest we are. We are an extremely dysfunctional middle-class family. My mom has a compulsive disorder…she is a clean freak and she has a fixation with planning her death. When we were little we had death drills. Yes drills. My mom quizzed us: “what to do if mommy dies”. Trust me it may not sound that bad but it is extremely traumatizing to a 5-year old. Especially when the first rule is: Do not call any of our trifling family members…call the attorney FIRST.
Everything is organized and planned to a tee as far as her finances and wills and all that stuff goes. Every week when I go over there she wants to go over stuff or show me something new that she has put aside in the event of her death. Last week it was sealed envelope with both my brother’s names on it. Even though I didn’t want to know I asked her what it was …she said “it’s blunt money”. I know I said the same thing blunt money!?!? She said “it’s blunt money.. $50 in cash …I just know your brothers are going to need to smoke on a blunt or two when I die and I got $5 on it”
I have reminded her countless times that she should not support their despicable habits. I asked her did she tell her attorney about the weed fund and she hasn’t… thank God.
Anyway back to my car. Although I have only been driving for a short time I am doing better and really getting the hang of it!
I’ve been enjoying this new freedom, it has made me a lot happier. I’ve noticed I am a lot less cranky. I have this problem with taking out my frustration, and pent-up anger on service people. Any service people…waitresses and airport people, gas station attendants, it doesn’t matter.
I realize now I was a walking ball of frustration… a cute one in an Ann Klein suit and a french manicure but a ticking time bomb nonetheless. I think it was one of the reasons I was exploding at the slightest mistake, error or delay.
The Christmas Season before I got my car I pulled a wreath off a woman’s SUV. Little things like that had been bothering me, really pissing me off.. It was maniac thing to do but I did it. I was at the gas station in my mother’s car and this woman pulled up next to me. She had this wreath on the front grill of her SUV and a Santa hat on. I thought no one could possibly be that damn jolly. I went over to her truck and yanked her wreath off. It didn’t come off on the first tug I literally had to put one foot on the grill and yank it a few times. When It came off I threw it on the ground and stumped it a few times.
The lady was just standing in the gas station looking at me like I was crazy. Lucky it wasn’t a sista or she might have tried to beat my ass.
My point, I guess is that things are good and I am enjoying my car… but you probably want to know what took me so long to drive…Well unfortunately I failed the driving test…not the written. I passed the written on the first try each time.
But I failed the driving test… 5 times. The last time that I took it before I passed it I actually hit a man while I was taking the test. A real pedestrian… yes a live human being.
I couldn’t believe the DMV man failed me after that. I was doing fine before that man walked into the car. He was jay walking you know. After the ambulance took him away the tester wouldn’t even let me drive back to DMV. I was so pissed I could have rang his fat neck.
The 6th time is a charm though…and now look at me! The cars name is Chrissy, Chrissy Chrysler and I’ve only had 7 accidents since I got her.
Well I guess that is enough for now…until next time!
