Saturday, 17 May 2008


The person I usually rant to (cause I always feel better after I talk to him, he calms me and gives me good advice without seeming like he's telling me what to do)is AWOL right about now so I'm ranting here. If you're reading this then you know me pretty well, and you know that my mother's husband aggravates the living daylights out of me.
After spending a long day on the train going to country to a birthday party for my cousin's husband, finally getting there to be overrun with children and too many bits and pieces of family long time friends and other Vincentians, a longer train ride home, I open the front door and step on the mail only to realise that it's from the Home Office. They are writing me YET AGAIN to ask for more bullshit things that I don't even have because they have my muddaclaat passport and I can't actually apply for anything that they are asking me to supply them with (ie a employment letter, etc). I call my mother to tell her. Then I notice the other envelope containing HER passport, that they somehow decide is ok to send back because she has to travel (when I muddaclaat want to muddaclaat travel back to where I muddaclaat come from and they have me like a muddaclaat prisoner) on the weekend. I call her again to tell her, and her husband answers and starts questioning me about the first letter and what they want. I go through the list an I say well 'whatever I will write them and they will get the letter I send and they will just have to take that'. He starts on oh it's how you construct the letter. Hell muddaclaat O I can write a muddaclaat letter, did I get a muddaclaat 1 for English by fucking everyone on the governing boards. N muddaclaat O. STEUPS. I feel my voice getting that defensive tone I take when talking to him because he tends to condescend. If you want to control your wife and she obeys then that is your business but when you start on some shit like you want to try that on me we will have problems. One day I know I will chip off on this buffoon. Anyway, he's repeating the structure shit and I'm cutting him off so he hands his wife the phone, I tell her I have her passport, she says to keep it cause they will be leaving from here and coming down on Friday night. Did they muddaclaat ask me if I had muddaclaat plans? Cause I muddaclaat do, well did cause I know his fat ass will sleep downstairs by the TV and I just do not care for the drama, so in my room I will stay, I am not coming in late and waking up anyone....(I might change my mind cause I already promised my know I won't). Anyway hang up and go up to bed, phone rings, my aunt calls out that my mother wants me to email the letter that i will write to them to her before I send it and she will make any necessary changes. Right here I know that is him talking eh (trust me I know this fuckpot). What I can't be trusted to snivel an beg them to please please I know I'm not Nigerian but please gimme a bligh and stamp me passport? I can't be trusted not to write "GO SUCK YUH MUMMAH", and call it a day? I will be writing a letter, by hand, I will not be emailing it to anyone for approval. Right about now I've had it with them and this fuckry I WAN TO GO HOME. and these kissmeass people can GO SUCK THEY MUMMAH!!!

Thursday, 15 May 2008

*shakes head*

Ok what the h e double hockey sticks is it about you men that makes you decide it's a great verbal intercourse to say 'rasta girl' 'sexy' or some such oratory fart? Then when you get no response you are heard bellowing (by people miles away) 'you weren't that nice anyway'. Seriously? You were the one trying to give the nudge nudge wink wink look, so what is it, you like 'not so nice looking' girls?
I'm in the supermarket yesterday minding my own business walking in the tinned veggies aisle looking for peas and corn when 3 reprobate looking Neanderthals somehow locate me and decide to try to start some conversation with the great and mighty always a sure fire winner 'rasta girl'. Hello no eye contact, I'm not even sure i would have noticed you if I wasn't scanning the neighbouring aisle for something. I carried on with my shopping only to find that I was being followed into the next aisle. Well sure it's possible they were shopping, but people in a supermarket who are actually there to shop generally have some item(s) in their hands, basket or trolley. Then it was something to the effect of (I'm thinking for my benefit since it was said loud enough to be heard in JA and not so far from my ear) ''*suck teeth* she nah one real rasta yuh know when yuh inna dance and dem say shake yuh natty". Listen you dumb f*ck Morgan heritage told me (ok so not personally) that you doh haffe dread to be rasta, so (as the Aussies would say) rack off!. I'm pretty sure dumb f*ck and his brethren were looking for corned beef...if they'd been careful enough to look before yapping they'd have noticed the only things in my cart were fruit, veggies, cous cous, juice, (basic pantry items) and fish.. But hey maybe the fake hair he had all braided up in his head was pulled too tight and interfering with his eyesight.

men seriously if a woman isn't giving you a come hither signal (believe it or not, ignoring you isn't a come hither signal, it's a haul yuh muddac*nt, so suck yuh mummah signal), don;t then get all emotional and have to try and play some macho man randy savage to your little feeble male friends because you got a diss.