Extra Credit

Uh-huh, you just flashing that handsome smile so I can apply for your 46% APR credit card.

One of the most annoying things about going to the retail store is when the eager cashiers offer you a credit card with astronomical APR percentages and slightly soothing the wound by offering an obviously less astronomical percentage off the total price of the merchandise. I mean, it’s annoying for folks like me trying to keep their credit score swag. Because, I know dayum well how easy it is to succumb to the pressure. And, lawd, is that pressure heavy… especially for a person who loves to shop. *points to self*

Retail stores think they slick. But, even more annoying than that is a more subtle way that stores try to lock you down. And it also involves the word, “credit”… without the APR, though.

STORE CREDIT.

I hate when I go to a clothing store actually made for teenagers so I have no idea why I’m even up in there shopping for something cute to wear and then I end up at the register…

Cashier Chick: *bubbly* Hi! Are you aware of our return policy?

Me: No, actually…

Cashier Chick: Returns are valid with a receipt within 90 days…

Me: *smiling*

Cashier Chick: … and only exchanges and store credit are available.

Me: -____________-

And of course, I don’t find this out until I’m already set on the outfit. Already fallen in love and pictured myself grinding on some random nicca sauntering into a room with confidence that night whilst wearing said outfit. So, yes, I oblige.

Ugh. I mean, as far as I’m concerned, they’re just taking advantage of chicks like me that sometimes don’t have time to try things on in the store (or chicks who just don’t like trying things in there in the first place) by locking in the sale and basically securing that amount of money for themselves no matter what. Doesn’t matter if you exchange something or use the store credit for much later on… the money is still guaranteed to them.

So, before making a purchase, I usually go through this quick mental argument in my head on whether there is a chance that I’ll return to the store and buy something else in case of buyer’s remorse.* I’ll go back in time in my head, trying to remember if I saw something ELSE that I found cute (and decided on not getting it because I didn’t want to spend too much money)… gathering a mental note on whether I like this store’s style.

See how much effing work that is?! Just so that this store can enslave my currency?!

I just wanted to point out that I know your game, retail stores. Don’t think you’re pulling a fast one on me! I’ll be there tomorrow to buy more stuff, doe… o_O

Pinchers, how do you feel about the store credit swindle? Ever did the “that’s okay, I don’t want it any more” line once the store told you of their restrictive policy? Male Pinchers, what’s your credit score? Wait, did I type that out loud? *looks over there*

Love ya like the hood loves chicken shacks,

Cheekie

*For those who ain’t know, “buyer’s remorse” is when you regret buying something that was probably an impulse purchase. Suddenly, when you get home, you’re not as excited about it as you were before.

The Caribana And The Cheeks

This is why we can't have nice Canadian things like universal healthcare.

*Missy Elliot slides (circa “Work It” video) past U.S. Customs*

Oh, hey.

So, as you can tell from the fact that you’re reading this now (and besides, WHO would ghostwrite for me?), I’ve survived Caribana. Ya know, lived to tell about it.

I can sum up my trip to Toronto in one (made-up) word: fantabulous. However, I decided to get long division on yo arse and break down the reasons as to why it was so grand.

So, in no particular order… I present, the Toronto highlights! Leggo! (which Canadians probably spell “Leggou!” o_O )

– Torontonian Travel. As recapped in both my DC and Cancun posts, it seems like I ALWAYS have to encounter some sort of drama to get either to or from my vacay destination. And this time was no different. Well, it was slightly different in that it involved a bus, not a plane. -_- In fact, my plane ride was smooth and quick DESPITE my prior worrying about flight delays due to thunderstorm forecasts in Chicago that morning. When I arrived in Buffalo and met up with L Boogie and Miss Blak n Bougie we chilled at the airport (and of course ate buffalo wings) and then went outside to wait for the Megabus. Little did we know at the time that we had to wait for said bus about TWO hours past its scheduled arrival time. That, coupled with being held up at customs (and having our bags unloaded for NO reason… *looks at Keisha Brown* yeah, no reason; they didn’t scan them!! lol) really had me on irritation status. I was already on “les sighs” mode for having to travel on my birthday. The only thing that kept me at ease was the anticipation of finally getting there and seeing my homies. Well, at least I thought that was the only thing…

– Oops, Pow, Surprise. When we finally arrived in the heart of Toronto, I texted KB to let her know we were near since it was the plan for her to pick us up. Except she informed us, “Yo, take a taxi to Max’s house and I’ll pay for the fare. Trust me, it’s worth it!” We did just that and finally met up with the girls. I exchanged reunion hugs with Lala, Max, and KB and exchanged “OMG we finally meet!” hugs with BP,  emti and superblackgirl (Max’s sister). We kicked it, ate lasagna from KB’s place of work and had a hilarious Skype conversation with Nick (of which she had me DYING when she actually put her EAR to the screen instead of turning up the volume when she couldn’t hear something we said). Then all of a sudden, I see a RED VELVET CAKE coming my way with candles via Max. Yo, I hollered. No, for real, I effing screamed. Everyone sang “Happy Birthday” and that single moment made my travel woes totally worth it. *group hug*

– In A Food Mood. I’m always fascinated by the little differences from one place to another and Canada didn’t disappoint. The fact that they have ketchup Lays potato chips and red colored cream soda?! Those potatoes at Counter? Mannnn, listen. My favorite foodie moment, doe, was the 3-course dinner at Joe Mama’s. A little background. I’m always hating salty when KB posts fancy-schmancy food pics on Twitter and I’m not there to enjoy. Well, I felt pretty good about taking part of some of that when I ordered the guacamole bruschetta, (giant) rib steak and a slice of red velvet cake (of which I LEFT at KB’s house. *punches butterfly*). Also, the extra loud and ratchet group rendition of “When Doves Cry” was the business. We coulda got paid for the entertainment we were providing the other patrons.

– Shenanigans At The Spa. Prior to the weekend, Max suggested a spa day of which we all enthusiastically agreed to. Then someone (NOT ME, L Boogie) decided that we should get Brazilians. So, a few of us (me, L Boogie, Miss Patterson, and KB) decided to be each other’s moral (and empathetic) support and get ‘em. Let’s just say that I was nervous AND made sure I was well-drugged. But, hey! It wasn’t even that bad. All I let out was a, “ooh!” here and a nervous laugh there. I knew for sure I’d be screaming, “Kelly Clarkson! Justin Guarini!” or some ish. But, alas, I’m a thug. A thug who can’t stop caressing her new velvet vajayjay. *vows to always sit with legs wide open* So, big ups to Max’s signature kitty waxer, who was fabulous and funny. We chatted the whole way through, which automatically put me at ease. Definitely can’t forget the epic body massage I had a few minutes before, too. That ish had me in total zen mode. *wistful sigh*

– The Great Outdoors. One word: PARADE. It was every single thing. Even though it was “hot as Hades” as KB would say, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The fact that I was actually dancing in the streets with the folks playing mas (= masquerade, with the glittery costumes)?! Enough to have glitter on myself afterwards? *faints* Sure, it was hot and crowded, but I try to make fun out of any (or at LEAST many) situation(s) and not much says more fun to me than booty-shaking and good music. Seeing everyone join together with smiles, the gorgeous costumes, the giant colorful “human floats”, the fried plantain, ogling foine scatily-clad dudes with Miss Patterson and Legit Soul … the list goes on. And then there was the potluck hosted by KB. We rode a ferry to a nice little island/picnic area and had a blast. I mean, I expected to have fun, but I had a BALL. Lemme just say that KB’s family (was extra glad to meet her infamous baking sister, too!) and friends are absolutely hilarious. It was so great how instantly we all clicked. It was like a little family reunion! Also, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen two bees get captured inside a cup of orange pop (yes, POP), witness one of the bees die (he planked, on the real) and then get to see both of the bees WRESTLE when they realized they were trapped together. Yes, this happened. Eff a National Geographic. That ish occurred at our picnic table.

– Celebrate, Celebrate, Celebrate, Let’s All Partake In Libations In A Frivolous Manner. Ah, the partying. We went to two big parties that weekend. First, was Soul Kitchen. This was where we met a few more folks. I met the lovely and fashionable Shay and I actually met Humble One! When we all saw him, we actually screamed in unison. Ya’ll don’t understand how the collective eStreets didn’t believe he was a real person. Anyway, we danced our cheeks off and I slowly realized why Toronto men have the “no game” rep. Legit and I collectively side-eyed a couple of dudes who line-danced/strolled with each other the ENTIRE night. Yes, WHILST several fly chicks shaked various tailfeathers TWO centimeters away from them. o_O Then, there was the Sunday night party. Wait, back-up. L Boogie, Miss Patterson, Legit, KB, and a few of KB’s friends decided to go to a hotel room (occupied by some of KB’s Chi homies) for a pre-party. We got it IN. We line-danced, took pictures, us ladies got ogled by the dudes in the room across from us (when we knocked on the door, they thought we were knocking on their door and gawked at us as we walked into the other room instead), and danced to tunes as one of the Chi dudes acted as DJ/hype-man using the mic from their traveling karaoke machine. Yeah, you read that right. Basically, we pre-partied properly. But, back to the party-party. We’d heard that Sunday was THEE night since it was the last one of Caribana weekend so I was amped. And Pooch Hall’s fahn self was hosting the party we were going to (which ended up being the biggest one in the city). I’m pretty sure we all sweated enough water to create yet ANOTHER one of the Great Lakes with our non-stop dancing. We went hard in the Valspar paint. Definitely got picked up (as in lifted, this always tends to happen… thick chick struggles), physically challenged by a thrusting-dude as to how low I could actually go, and I got to molest Pooch Hall’s arm twice. Good, good times.

– I *heart* Toronto, Generally. Toronto in general, is a beautiful city. Their skyline is gorgeous (I couldn’t stop gazing at the CN Tower every time we passed by it), their public transportation system was smooth (and a great deal!), the folks were nice and polite, their Skittles (colorful) money was fascinating, their version of Times Square (called Yonge-Dundas Square) was a pleasant surprise, getting to hear more folks say “eh” at the end of sentences (other than Max and KB, whom I’d already heard say it in the past) was great, and ya know… that whole “aboot” thing they swear doesn’t exist. Great city to visit. I highly recommend if you haven’t been, Pinchers.

Overall, I had a phenomenal time. I’m talkin’ “life-changing” type time. That may seem a little dramatic now, but I have that feeling…

My eLadies,

KB – Thanks for being the wonderful fellow Leo that you are. I adore how you talk with your hands and NO one can touch your planning game. Who gon’ check you, boo? No one, because you would’ve planned it first and been ahead of the game.

Max – Once again, you give me life when you drop the F-bomb (as I do the same to you, apparently, lol) and you encouraged me to try new things without you even knowing it. All it took was a sly grin. You have a way of upping someone else’s fabulous game just by being next to you. It’s fascinatingly dope.

L Boogie – I’ont like you, but I luh you. This makes sense. For serious, my eyes seriously watered when I left ya at the airport. Though, it may be allergies. You are my sister from another mister. And yeah, you are SO me. Lawd.

Miss Patterson – Your doe-eyed self. So glad to see you again. I love your bubbly spirit and random raunchy side. And your twirls instantly make me feel better. In fact, I’mma do one now while writing this sentence. Yup, just did it.

LaLa – I don’t even have to reiterate how gangsta you are. I mean, you have a donk AND a ninja for a daddy. What’s better than that?! As always, I thoroughly enjoy sharing foolishness with you, especially when it involves “What’s Love Got To Do With It.”

BP – You are so hilariously hyper and random that I can’t help but love ya! These are definitely things I value in a person, so I adore you, by default. Plus, you gave me one other reason to head to California other than my screenwriting career. That’s right, those See’s butterscotch pops. Man…

Blak N Bougie: How can I NOT love a chick that names her wigs? You are funny and fabulous at the same time. Which, is no easy feat. You can make a person laugh WHILE flipping your hair and slaying hos. Work it.

Legit Soul – My big-haired Cali sister. You truly represent that Cali laid-back coolness. You are SUPER nice to everyone and I seriously can’t remember a time when I didn’t see you smile. Which means instant buddy for me. Can’t wait to visit you in the Oakland hood. Was great flying back with you to Chicago (connecting flights, FTW)! But, for real doe, why come your hurr is so dayum dope, doe? LOL

Pinchers, have you ever been to Toronto, participated in Caribana, or to Canada, period? Share your stories here! Oh, and let me know what you think of my recap as well!

Love ya like high-heels love to murk my feet,

Cheekie

P.S. Ya dayum right that’s me in today’s post picture.

A Pinched Parable: Have I Missed My Calling?

 

Perhaps my dream of doing this is closer to fulfillment than I thought.

As a writer, I have this unexplainable urge to tell stories. Every now and then, I come across an event that masquerades itself as a story. So I figured, hell, why not make a series out of it? I couldn’t come up with a reason.

Thus, I hereby demand (nicely) that you gather round because I gots stories. Well, just one today. Don’t be greedy.

Ahem.

I’ve been living in my current building for about 3 years now. And I have to say, I really enjoy the neighborhood (of which I’ve always known since Mama Cheeks dwells in the vicinity as well), the sense of community, and of course my neighbors themselves. The ones I’ve come across are nice folks.

Some of them however, are a bit too nice.

My building has a little exercise room for its inhabitants. *pops collar* When I first moved there, I was super excited about working out on machines without paying a gym fee.*

One particular evening, I was working out on the elliptical machine, turning my elliptic-swag on. I had the exercise room to myself for about 45 minutes when all of a sudden, a (what seemed to be) middle-aged man walked in. He wasn’t bad-looking. He wasn’t good-looking. He just was. He was wearing a sweat-stained wifebeater though, so that warrants a *puke*.

I did the neighborly head-nod (even though I had never seen him there before) and kept on working it. He went and did his thing and I proceeded wrap it up. As I did some post-workout stretches, he looked at me and smiled. I looked at him and half-smiled, secretly wishing I had a smartphone so I could use a 911 app or something.**

And then he opened his mouth to speak. It went a little somethin’ like this:

Gym Creep: You’re very strong.
Cheekie: o_O
Cheekie: …
Cheekie: Oh? Thanks. *nervous giggle*
Gym Creep: Yes. Very much. Do you always work out here?
Cheekie: Yeah, about 3 days a week. I usually mix it up with walks/jogs when it’s warm outside, though.
Gym Creep: What do you do for a living?
Cheekie: I work at a LAW FIRM. (I put hella emphasis on that for some strange reason. -_-)
Gym Creep: Ah. And you like that?
Cheekie: It pays the bills.
Gym Creep: Hmm. Do you know about escorts? Are you an escort?
Cheekie (in my head): GRDGDHFHFHFERYE#^#$^%$Y%&$%@@!
Cheekie (in reality): Um, I’m not.
Gym Creep: Ah, you should be. You’re so strong. Actually, I own an escort service. You should consider it. How do you feel about that?
Cheekie: Um … (TERRIFIED TO BECOME A LIFETIME CHANNEL VICTIM AT THIS POINT), not really…
Gym Creep: Ah, don’t be scared.
Cheekie: *chuckles* I’m not. (SCARED AS SHIT.) But, um, no thanks. I gotta head out now.
Gym Creep: Ok. *doesn’t take his eyes off me*
Cheekie: *Usain Bolts the hell out that joint*

Ok. Numero uno. I cannot — for the life of me — figure out why the “selling point” for me to become an escort is that I’m allegedly… “strong.” When I imagine someone being offered to humor rich, lonely men, I imagine the primary requirement to be… I don’t know… beauty? Are there weight-lifting competitions that happen in the day in the life of an escort? Or perhaps I’ll be dougie-ing on a headstand at the hotel later? Let me know. So I’ll know.

Anyhow. Pinchers, you speak. According to ol’ dude up there, have I missed my calling? Should I moonlight as an escort? I mean, I already moonlight as a screenwriter, but I ain’t gettin’ paid for that at the moment, so…

Hmm, I’ll keep it on the backburner. Good to know I have a backup plan.***

 

Love ya like Michele Bachmann loves to NOT look at the camera with her porcelain eyes,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*Don’t worry, wallet, it surely comes out the association’s assessment fee. You don’t have to feel neglected. Fabulous. -_-
**Does that exist? Why does my mind work this way? SMH…
***If ol’ dude returns on some “A Mr. ‘Boris Kodjoe’/'Idris Elba’ is seeking your services” ish? It’s a wrap.

Giving Thanks And Paying Homage

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day (I decided to speak on behalf of Captain Obvious today), so you know what that means? THE NEXT DAY IS BLACK FRIDAY, BISHES! Since we have beaucoup thangs to be thankful for, hopefully you’ll focus on that instead of the fact that I ain’t eem gone bring ya’ll no Friday Foolery this week because I’ll have acute super duper ‘itis all weekend. Yay, four-day weekend!* Yay, holidays! Apologies in advance.

 

Grazie.

Monday, I decided to list my favorite Thanksgiving foods. Sorry Pinchers, for making ya’ll all hungry and whatnot. (Ya’ll hear that? It’s the sounds of chirruns stomachs growling! #RentIsTooDamnHigh) So, I decided to round up the Thanksgiving week with a list of things I’m grateful for. Ya know, paying my respects for those things that make my life just a little bit better.

So… LEGGO! I’m thankful for…

– The Family. From Mama Cheekie to my big sis, Chyna. Even when we get frustrated with each other, I can always count on them. Yup, each and every one of them in a special way. I’m extra thankful that I have so many ratchet members in the fam, too. It’s in me blood, ya’ll!

– The Plantation. Ok, so I always call the main gig “the plantation”, but it’s all in good fun, peoples. In all honesty, I’m thankful I have it. Especially since I value little things such as shelter and nourishment. This most recent bout of (shocking) layoffs and the even bigger layoffs in the past (and the fact that I survived them all) reminds me every day to stop myself whenever I complain about being too busy at work or having to get up on a Monday morning. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m human and complaining is therapeutic, but ultimately, I’m happy I get a steady paycheck every two weeks. AND a bonus during the holidays! And I can’t leave out that young health insurance package. Boom! *cabbage patch*

– The Much-Needed Vacay. Which, I wrote about here. But, I wanted to express how thankful I am that I got to experience such a lovely time.

– The Crib. You know when you have one of those moments when you look around and say, “Wow, this is mine. And I’ve worked hard for it.” That’s how I feel sometimes when I’m at the crib. Especially, when I decorate a little bit. I feel all grown-up and ish. *as I call Mama to do somethin’ for me*

– The Cheeks. Yeah, both pair. They’re so pinchable! Very handy.

– The Eye Candy. The fact that ninjas like Idris Elba and Boris Kodjoe effing exist?! Makes me wanna learn how to say “thank you” in every single language ever created in the history of tongues.

– The Foolery. If not for the mass amounts of foolishness and silliness that I encounter, life wouldn’t be half as sweet as it is. The feeling I get from laughter is one of the best feelings in the world. ESPECIALLY when I laugh ’til crying. Which… I do often. The fact that there is so much ridiculous out there lets me know that there is a Gawd. I’m as sure as Sophia (that shole is a pretty name) and her pop-eye.

– The Blogosphere. If you crank your head to the left (to the left), you’ll see a list of blogs that get me through the work day. Before you hover over my shoulder like a micro-manager, YES, I do get my work done and I’m productive, I’ve just mastered the skill of multitasking via multiple tabs/windows. You mad? Honorable Mention: Gchat folks. Ya’ll know who you is.

And last but most certainly not least…

– The Readers. About seven months ago, I decided to expand the tome-ass comments I would leave at various blogs and make some use of my thoughts. Who-da thunk, that this would be like work? Seriously, I admire ya’ll ninjas who turn in a new post EVERY day. I be pulling my hair out trying to get a new post three days a week. ESPECIALLY on Sunday night. But, you know who makes it all worth it? Ya’ll. My Pinchers! *does a drive-by pinch on all ya’ll* The fact that folks I’ve never met are reading my thoughts makes me sorta giddy inside. Which is pretty sappy and Carl Thomas emotional, but hey, I’m a Leo. Dramatical is what I does. Special shout-out to Max for providing me with the fabulous experience of witnessing a Pincher read my blog post live when we were in Miyamuh. The way she laughed gave me SO much life. Shit was surreal.

I’m thankful for a ton of things. I’m even sitting here being all neurotic because I’m sure I forgot some things. Pinchers, do me a favor and share some of yours so I can just piggyback off it. Thanks! <<< See, what I did there?! o_O

Seriously, though, let’s all bond over giving thanks. And paying homage to those who make you feel as blessed as I feel right now. Lil’ Kim will be proud.

Have a wonderful and pinchworthy**, Thanksgiving!

 

Love ya like Tasha Mack loves tacos,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*If one of you heauxs try to one-up air-body and say some ish like, “Well, ahem, I actually have a FIVE day weekend”, best believe I will give you the side-eye of hateration. Yeah, that’s right, all up IN THIS DANCERY.
**Which, it probably will be pinchworthy because lawd knows we’re gonna produce all KINDS of love handles this weekend. SMH…

The Homeless Hoax

I don’t like folks trying to swindle me, but I’d give this person 5 bucks.

Do ya’ll ever have inner-struggles on whether to give money to a homeless person or other panhandler? I do. Because I’m a skeptical good person. I’m generous enough to consider giving them some change (many folks don’t even do that), but streetwise enough to know not everyone is sincere in their begging. When I say “sincere”, I mean they have their priorities in order.

Unlike this most recent panhandler I encountered while taking my niece shopping downtown:

*Cheekie and Niece Cheekie crip-walk down the sidewalks of downtown Chi*

*They stop at a crosswalk*

*A frail lady approaches them*

Frail Lady: ‘Scuse me, do you have some spare change so I can get on the bus. I’m stranded!

Cheekie: *thinks a minute but realizes money isn’t easily accessible at the moment (more on this point later)* No change on me, sorry.

*Frail Lady turns*

*Cheekie and Niece Cheekie continue to wait for the streetlight to change*

Frail Lady (behind us, to other person): Do you have a spare cigarette?

Cheekie (back still turned): o_O

*Cheekie and Niece Cheekis burst into hysterical laughter*

Jigga why?!

Did she seriously just straight up lie? I mean, if she truly needed to get on the bus, she wouldn’t have asked the next person for a cigarette. I mean, unless she’s crazy and thinks there are special buses that take cigarettes in lieu of fare on weekends or some ish. The latter possibility is just that, a possibility. Considering the characters I witness everyday, I wouldn’t rule it out, actually.

Anyway, back to my inner conundrum. Like I said above, I’m a generous person, but honey, I live in the city. Hell, I dwell here. And there are some con-muthafrickin-artistes up in this ho. And while I’m of the “nice” variety, I am not one of those people that believe folks when they say the word “gullible” ain’t in the dictionary. As a city-dweller, I also know the dangers that lurk. The number one being purse-snatchers.

So, my one rule for giving a panhandler money is that if it is not easily accessible (meaning, if I have to dig the effing Grand Canyon into my purse to find 35 cents), I will politely decline with a smile and a shake of my head. It’s why I usually try to keep some change in an easily accessible pocket in my purse or on my person.

Furthermore, I usually give my money to the “regulars.” The ones who’ve proven to be sincere in their needs and who I’ve maintained a special “relationship” with.

Bottom line is, I don’t know what people are going to do with the money I give them. Once it’s outta my hands, it’s…outta my hands. The whole shebang. I try to use my best judgement, but I’m not of Miss Cleo levels. o_O

Pinchers, the newly waxed floor is yours (if you slip, they will laugh). How do you feel about giving to the homeless/needy on the street? Do you think it’s just black or white (yay or nay)? Or do you think there’s a lovely shade of gray? Why did Trey Songz sound like a zebra when he hit that high note during his Prince mini-tribute at the 2010 BET awards?

These are the questions yearning to be answered.

Love ya like Black folks love “They dead” rumors*,

Cheekie

*For serious, today my cousin called my sister screaming and carrying on talmbout Bobby Brown is dead. I initially gasped a “What?!”, but then quickly Googled and the last mention of his death as in April of this year. He still here. Put your gyrating-lovin’ mind at ease.

Somethin’ For Side-Eyes: Check Yourself…Into Cash

*CHEEKIE NOTE*: Because I like answering questions (read: I love wasting time when there’s time to be wasted), I’ve created a formspring account! Check me out at http://www.formspring.me/pinchmycheekie and/or fill out the formspring … um, form … on the right sidebar. K? Thank you muchly. And now back to our regularly scheduled blogging…

Welcome to the Hood Rich Exchange!

Today’s side-eye is brought to you by folks who call themselves grown and don’t have a checking account.

Jigga what?!

I said, folks who call themselves grown and don’t have a checking account.

I cannot deal with folks who crip-walk on down to the Currency Exchange, Grocery Store, or any other Check Cashing place every other week to get their money. Talmbout, “I don’t trust no bank holdin’ my money.” Oh, so you trust someone charging you to get paid? o_O

Don’t even step to me sayin’ you got yo grown-on and the vault that holds your entire life savings is a money clip.

If you cash your check at a Check Cashing venue you also probably:

– Attended a college that was just invented tomorrow.

– Live in your mama’s second bathroom.

– Spent all your tax refund money on a Sylvania 92 inch TV.

– Suck your thumb.

– Sell Frooties, Chews, and Socks on the expressway.

Raise your hand if these fit you. Oh wait, you can’t because your hands are in your pockets since you have every single penny to your name inside of them.

And I really don’t understand the places that offer “Direct Deposit.” Um, isn’t that a bank’s territory? You might as well get a Rush Card so you can receive your fake credit score online.

So, remember folks, if you claim to be an adult, make sure you open a checking account. Even if no one uses checks anymore, you’ll probably get a free check booklet. And maybe a t-shirt. Best of all, you’ll get a debit card. It keeps you from standing in a long line waiting to get some money, which frankly, sounds like an unemployment office. And we all know we like to avoid that place.

Ultimately, I’ll never really get the allurement of the Check Cashing Place. They have way too many signs on their windows and some of them cause you to draw check signs into the air like a moron:

Direct Linkage

So, pinchers, do you know someone who needs to stop playin’ and get a checking account? Tell them to read this post. Do you need to stop playin’ and get a checking account? Read this post again.

Love ya like Justin Bieber (obviously) loves hair in his corneas,

Cheekie