How Much They Hate It? Very!

*PINCHED NOTE*: Ya’ll may or may not (more so the latter) have noticed I’ve been a bit absent from this here eCrib. I have a good reason, tho! And it rhymes with Trip Benzy. Basically, I was over here hustling hard on my script game and managed to spit out a feature script (my 4th one in total!) in 30 days! Something I’ve never done before so quickly! So yeah, that had all my attention, Pinchers, but I’m back to give ya’ll some pinch-tention. Trust me, this cutesy “pinch” thing will get old soon. And I’ll STILL do it. Because I’m cornier than a husk.

Could this post feature ANY other picture? No, rhetorical answerer, the answer is no.

Hate.

If John Lennon was alive today (R.I.P. btw), he’d probably have an epic Twitter beef with 21st century “rappers” and “goons” about his infamous song title, “All You Need Is Love.”

Or at least that’s how it would happen in the delusional world called my imagination. Oooh! Imagining! Something else the late John Lennon was a proponent of.

The theory/act of hating (or… “Haterism” as I like to call it) has always intrigued me. Especially nowadays, where “hating” or “having haters” has the ability to trump any talk of love in common conversations. Le shock and horror!

There are a few components of Haterism that particularly… intrigue me for lack of a better word. “Intrigue me” can be loosely substituted with “cause me to make several o_O or -_O or e_O faces”, by the way.

1. Haters = Success. Oh? I totally get that negativity is a form of adrenaline and inspiration toward becoming successful, but I can’t help but think that this adage has gone a tad bit too far. In fact, there is an ACRONYM for the term, “haters.”

H.A.T.E.R.S. – Having Anger Toward Everyone Reaching Success.

And ya’ll KNOW ish has gone too far when there is acronym made from it. I’m kinda uncomfy with some folks’ implication that true success is measured from some douchebag that pisses in your Kool-aid AND it only gives undeserved ninjas carte blanche to use this as a means to confirmation of said success.

Which only brings me to…

2. Hating In Mirror Are Falser Than It Appears. Probably my biggest pet peeve regarding Haterism abuse is this:

FOLKS WHO HAVE LESS THAN ZERO THINGS TO HATE ON CLAIM TO HAVE HATERS.

THEE number one requirement to have haters is to have something to hate on. So, booboo on your 20in rims on a Honda Civic, Sir. Or booboo on your weave made from virgin molerats, Ma’am. Which of course, I have to get on my segway to segue to…

3. Legit Criticism ≠ Hating. Liken it to folks who call EVERY single thing “epic.” The very definition of “epic” loses all of the value because it isn’t distinct anymore. Same concept with hating. Not every single bout of criticism can be deemed as hating. I ain’t sorry bout 2004 nor am I sorry about that. You just gotta face it, sometimes the criticism ain’t coming outta nowhere. There actually is some basis behind it and it may be something to think about. Hell, it may be — gasp — constructive, and said to inspire you to do better because that person knows you can. PERISH the thought. And I’d also include the note to certain celeb stans that anything other than “glowing-gasm 100% positive comments” ain’t hating by default, but that would also require the assumption that they have sense. And I don’t have that assumption ability.  So, I won’t include it.

Even beyond the above ones I’ve mentioned, one of the most interesting and intriguing aspects of Haterism has been the idea that…

4. Hating Was Established On Venus. Meaning that, basically, hating is primarily a “chick thing.”

… JIGGER WHAT?! Allow me to express the feeling I have for that thought in the best way I know how: this.

Oh, because you happen to witness our hateration in this dancery in a more public manner, that means it’s the only proof of existence? Tell that to subtle racism. Anyway.

What I find more interesting is that ANY expression of a man commenting on another man is deemed “gay” (if my eyes rolled any more, they’d also rock), which automatically cancels out any public discourse. Welp, peer pressure! Doesn’t mean it ain’t happening, though. Besides, ain’t Drake slander ya’ll version of “she think she cute?”

Ok, I’m totally being tongue-in-cheek with that comparison. OR AM I???

But yeah, for some reason “women hating other women” is some grandiose issue that we only suffer from. On a whole ‘nother level, I have a feeling men kinda get off on women hating other women. Several months ago, there was some rumor on the internets about Idris Elba possibly dating a white chick. Now, I haven’t actually confirmed this to be true or found any updates… I was too busy living the #shruglife and continuing my leisurely hobby that consists of lusting after his pictures. But, when this rumor broke out, I expected to see TONS of women threatening to leap out of their desk chair to their death, but what I saw most of?

Men HA-ha-ing to all the Black chicks on some Nelson Muntz mess. Like, most of my Twitter timeline was FILLED with men Dougie-ing in celebration that all the Black Womenz were gonna go NUTS and hate on this hypothetical white chick. OR maybe they were glad the Woman-Idol wasn’t checking for them (because yes, dating ONE or even several non-Black chicks means you don’t like Black chicks at all -_-) because these men were always… I don’t know… hating on him? Awwwww, of course not!

Oh, and by the way, since this post is already long enough, I TRULY hope that by saying “men” or “women” is automatically assumed that I don’t mean ALL men or ALL women, because having to specify the exact number of (wo)men (separating them by race, class, height, weight, location, etc.) would take a whole bunch of time and eff up a sister’s word count like a mug. *smize*

Pinchers, what you think about Haterism in general? Has it now evolved to simple B.S. or is there still some validity to it… at all? Speak on it!

Love ya like Tupac hologram jokes love to come back as much as Tupac,

Cheekie

The Drama Of Death

How I look at my Twitter timeline during trying times...

With the most recent and tragic deaths of Don Cornelius and Whitney Houston (R.I.P. to them both and prayers go out to their respective family and loved ones), I’ve noticed how big their impact was on us. And with celebrities, in general. When they pass away, these momentous tragedies truly illustrate the kind of people we are… by how we react to them.

As an active member of social networking, I’ve witnessed the various ways people react to a celebrity’s death and it almost seems like a cycle. A cycle of key aspects that never seem to change. And I’m not so sure that’s a good thing. I mean, there are a lot of remarkable things that I’ve gotten out of social networking, but with the good inevitably comes the bad… or the annoying. I mean, hey, it comes with the territory.

I’ve been meaning to write about this over the years of witnessing the kerfluffle that arises after a celebrity’s death and the frustrations that stem from it and I’ve finally found the day… the inspiration.

I’m always a proponent of larger discussions growing from a tragic event (because sometimes, they are very necessary), but some particular discussions/statements not only distract from the death, they somehow one-up it in a way that doesn’t quite sit right with me. Still, they keep coming up, so I feel they should be addressed.

There are a few major (and common) statements that always seem to pop up that I have quite the beef and confuddlement with (spoken in 2nd person for effect; if you ain’t the “you” in these scenarios, no need to get any undergarments in a bunch)…

“You weren’t even a fan… until they died!” Hmmm, and you’d know this… how? I’d really love to know what constitutes a “fan” in your eyes. Are you ONLY a fan if you express your love for said celebrity everyday on every single social networking site during every second of the day? Because fans can’t possibly express their love in the privacy of their own homes, huh? I guess watching their movies, singing their songs, reading their books, watching their TV shows, hanging their artwork, donating to their charities — among other things — don’t happen until you shout it from the rooftops. Oh.

“Ya’ll don’t even mourn for your own family/regular folks this way!” Oh, really?? Here’s yet another example of ASSuming. Emphasis oh-so very intentional and obvious. The very thing that makes a celebrity a celebrity and a regular person a regular person is the number of people who know them. Or, of them, to be more accurate. Thing is, some folks don’t feel the need to mourn about their personal loved ones with strangers. And, hell, some do. Both are okay, too! But you’re too busy assuming what they didn’t do based on what they’re doing now. Based on a single, solitary event. What makes a celebrity death different is the bonding experience. We can ALL share in the fact that this celebrity has touched and affected our lives in some way. Whether that way be big or small, it was something. So, I have to sincerely ask, what is the harm in joining together in that? In celebrating what they (and their work) meant in our lives? Which brings me to, in summary,…

“The Mourning Olympics” This isn’t a particular statement or quote, but it’s what I like to call the collective war that occurs via the internet and leaves quite the bad taste in my mouth. The “who mourns the best” circus. I’ve always said this and I’ll say it again, “There is no right or wrong way to mourn a death. It just is.” There are a few things that are inherently personal and mourning is one of them. When I head to the internet to express my thoughts, grievances, and honoring after a celebrity passes away, the main component I see is the judgment of how other folks choose to mourn. Which pisses me clean the eff off. I’m sorry, but  — wait, no I’m not — I’m NOT sorry for how I choose to mourn a celebrity that had an impact on my life. And neither should you. Or you. What soothes you in these tragic times is right and appropriate for you. Eff what “rules” people (who are NOT you and will NOT have to sit with YOU and inside YOUR body at the end of the day) bestow on you. Who has the gall to bang a gavel on what is appropriate or not for you and your feelings? No mothereffing one but you, that’s who. So keep doing you, boo. I’ll be over here doing me. And the world will be a less tense place.

Like I said, I’m never one to block larger discussions that stem from death, but what is a discussion that goes nowhere? Is it a discussion at all? Intent means a lot and sometimes I feel folks who like to “call out” others for how they react to death care less about the celebrity they seem to be defending and more about their own superiority complex. Especially when their “defense” has no weight whatsoever.

I’ve always said that a person’s death has a larger effect on the people who are still here living on Earth. Someone’s death is always something that seems to happen to “us”, not so much what happens to them. Because we’re the ones who have to keep living with it. It’s all about perception. Overall, while we hope the person who has passed on rests in peace, we’re still here warring in unrest. Interesting…

Pinchers, what say you? What do you think about the conversation that stirs post-death? In particular, a celebrity’s death?

Love ya like Whitney loved to dance with somebody,

Cheekie

Recycling A Can Of Worms

Yes, I'mma bout to Ike Turner this dead horse.

So, yesterday my homeskillet, Max posted a blog post entitled, “Reopening A Can of Worms (Still cant have sex whenever we want)“, which was a follow-up to her post, “No, We Actually Can’t Have Sex Any Time We Want.” The latter (listed) of which erupted into one of the most epic blogville arguments known to man (and some degrees of it carried over to gchat, but we ain’t gon’ talk about that right nah*).

If you haven’t already, reading both of those is a homework assignment before continuing any further so you come well-equipped and ish, but the gist of Max’s thesis is that “women cannot have sex whenever they want/it’s not truly easy for women to get sex.” And I agreed with her.

I actively participated in both debates, and since I have a problem not sitting right with not getting everything I wanted to get out… out, I decided to vomit my words all over my space. Because ya know, any other way would mean writing a blog post in the comments section OF ANOTHER BLOG which we all (if “all” meant “everyone except for a few crazy niccas”) know is against blog etiquette.

Anyhow, while watching the debate continue, a few points stuck out to me. And by “stuck out to me”, I mean, “confuddled me greatly to the point where I thought the high blood pressure that run in my family would be fully realized within me in that moment.”

I’m gonna note the commonalities that I noticed amongst the men’s arguments and speak my piece on each. Cool? Ice cold.

1. “Her Experiment of Just Sampling 5 Men Is Faulty.” Ya know, I found it funny how a lot of men used this to mean, by default, that they were right. Except not. Let’s say it WAS faulty… that just means the experiment was inconclusive, it doesn’t then mean that obtaining sex IS easy for women. I also find it funny (hilarious, even) that if she conducted this exact same experiment but ended up getting her back blown out thusly, these exact same results would’ve “proved” the men’s claims right. Jigga how?

2. “She Should’ve Added A Qualifier Like ‘Quality Men’ or ‘Only Men I Want’.” Chile, bye. You know who you sound like? Those very “When you dog women you should ONLY say, ‘SOME women’, otherwise we think you’re talmbout all of us!” type chicks ya’ll claim to be annoyed by. And this is a (kosher) beef I have with the internets, in general. Thing is, in order to keeps us sane, generalities are needed. If we had to add a qualifier and specificity to each and every thing we wax generic about, each and every blog post would have a 50-lem trillion word count and take 31 days for the page to load. Thing is, when we write using generalities, we usually hope (pray, even) that our readers are able to put 2 and 2 together and know that there are always exceptions.

Yes, women would rather have sex with someone they want. Who doesn’t? Who complains about something not being available that they don’t care for? No one that’s who. Even men who say that they can’t text a chick asking for sex without getting slapped figuratively/literally (more on that later) are texting for sex they want, no? So yeah, please assume that women mean the sex that they want. Which, there’s nothing wrong with. If we include “any and every sex available on the planet” then it’s easy for everyone, ain’t it?

3. “It’s Easier For Ya’ll Than For Men, Doe!” I’m not even gonna get on the fact that she never claimed this in her original premise, but c’est la vie and whatnot. Let’s entertain this thought, doe. First off, easy is relative. If — in one breath — you admit (hell, even try to strengthen your argument) with the fact that women have different checklists on whether they’ll sleep with a nicca than men do, then you can’t — in the same breath — measure how “easy” it is for women in relation to how easy it is for men, ya dig? You noting that we have different morals in terms of sex presupposes that our “easiness” then can’t be measured on the same scale. If you know dayum well that women are more choosey in who they decide to share their loins with (and berate them when they’re not so choosey at all…), wouldn’t you at least hesitantly admit that this makes it a tad bit difficult for chicks? Given the chances alone? Doesn’t matter that it’s not easier for you, it’s not easy for her. It not being easier for you doesn’t make it easy for her, by default. And I do have to add that screaming about how bad women react to your advances means nothing but the fact that we’re more dramatic in how we say “no.” A “no” is a “no” is a gottdayum, “no.” Acting like you so “busy” when a girl hits you up to pet her kitty, is a way of saying, “no” as well. Check your Thesaurus, it’s in there.

*checks blood pressure* … *sees it’s still on the up-and-up… oh wait, wrong phrase… sees it’s normal* Rejoice!

So, yeah, Pinchers, had to get that out. See why I couldn’t have that all up in Maxie’s blog? Anyway, what do ya’ll think about this severely dead horse? Is it an infamous semantics debate? Am I full of it? Eh, it’s probably just gas. Hug me anyway.

Love ya like hippies love to occupy Wall Street,

Cheekie

*Or ever. What happens in gchat stays in gchat.

Better Late Than Never

This is what "care" looks like.

11:08pm EST. That was the moment Troy Davis’ fate was wrapped inside the state of Georgia’s hands. May he rest in peace.

One of the things I took away from the Troy Davis saga was that this was bigger than him. Even he seemed to know that. He knew of the energy surrounding him… an energy created by people he didn’t even know personally.

Troy Davis was sentenced to death in 1991. That was TWENTY years ago. Back then, I wouldn’t have ever imagined the juggernaut that social media has now become. Today, venues such as Twitter has become the average person’s source for major news… for knowledge.

The Twitter phenomenon surrounding a major event is always intriguing. This particular event was no exception. The vast array of emotions, arguments, misconceptions, ignorance, information… it was a lot. But, there was one major component of these tweets that stuck out to me and not in a good way.

Amongst all of the rallying in support for Mr. Davis, there was one sore thumb that stuck out like an unkempt hitchhiker: “Where were ya’ll 10 years ago? Why are you JUST now caring about this?!”

-________________-

This sentiment has ALWAYS irked me in one way or another. Why? Because it reeks of “I’m better than you” when competition is FAR from appropriate. We’re in competition in how we support now? Instead of… I don’t know… joining together in said support? Guess that’s too productive. SMH…

When I saw those tweets, I immediately had to get this out…

@pinchmycheekie – “Folks bashing others for “just” finding out about Troy shouldve used that fucking energy to spread the word. Ya know, since u care so much.”

And I still stand by that sentiment. Even more so after the turn of events that followed. All of the “late” concern formulated into huge rallies across the country, a sight that I couldn’t be more proud of.

It truly showcased just how powerful “word of mouth” is and by that extension, how powerful Twitter is as its device.

Two major issues I have with the “you cared too late” mentality.

1. You have NO way of knowing when exactly anyone cared about anything. Just because you are just now seeing someone speaking about it via ONE forum doesn’t mean that they “just” started caring. So, there’s that.

2. And even if they DID just started caring or JUST found out… so?! Where were they before? Where were YOU before you found out about something? Where was anyone before they learned a particular fact? We all have to “come across” or learn a fact at one point. Simple as that. It’s not about when they didn’t know, it’s about the fact that they know NOW… closely followed by what they will do with said knowledge.

This whole ordeal has been quite the nightmarish roller coaster. The country erupted with a sigh of relief when Troy’s stay of execution was announced. We all had that feeling that what we did… mattered. And then the Supreme Court denied it and soon after that, he was executed.

The same cynics that I argued against above may have felt a sense of “victory” in terms of their opinion, proving that it was too late. Except it wasn’t. It still mattered. We still mattered… HE still matters. I must repeat my thought at the beginning of this rant. This is bigger than Troy Davis. I know that, Troy Davis knows that… we know that.

The concern should NEVER be about when someone learns of something worth fighting for, the concern should be about the call to action afterwards. My main focus is that now that we know, let’s use this knowledge in a productive manner.

I think Troy Davis said it best in his last official written statement:

“The struggle for justice doesn’t end with me. This struggle is for all the Troy Davises who came before me and all the ones who will come after me. I’m in good spirits and I’m prayerful and at peace. But I will not stop fighting until I’ve taken my last breath.”

And we should not… WILL not stop fighting. In various ways. Hell, given the looming election season, I’d say this “care” is not only not too late, but right on damn time.

And that’s all I gotta say about that…

Love ya like protesters love making a difference,

Cheekie

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.

Yeah, I’m McMad

This gives a new meaning to "cocktease."

I have a great relationship with McDonald’s. I have fabulous memories of gorging on their infamous fries, discovering a cool new toy in my Happy Meal, and letting my imagination go wild in Ronald McDonald’s Playhouse. Memories from my childhood, of course. Just to be clear. ( ._.)

Even today, I still can’t get enough of their addictive fries despite having to take a HUGE break from them after seeing Super Size Me… that ish had me SICK. Of course, we’ve had our roadblocks where I’ve questioned their judgment or I’ve jokingly mocked their attempts to cater to my melanin-prone family. And I have vastly decreased my trips there since college (a time in which I actually LOST weight… but, maybe that had more to do with not having enough money to eat more than 1.5 full meals a day… o_O). However, amongst all that, I still got love for the old-time classic.

Recently, doe? McDonald’s pissed me square off. Yes, all four equal sides of pissivity.

In case you’re not aware, McDonald’s has a new ad campaign introducing their 4 new sauces for their McNuggets. I mean, they’re not exactly new, but they’re pretty much saying that some of the sauces they offered for a limited time in the past, are now permanently on the menu. Pinchers, I was HYPED. And for one sauce in particular…

THE SWEET CHILLI SAUCE.

I remember when they first introduced the sauce for a short time, I went gaga (no Lady) all over it. It was my most favorite thang evah. In terms of nuggets, I had been a barbecue sauce girl, but when this sweet chili came into my life? *faints to fully explain the effect it had on me*

While they featured this sauce, I was a nugget-eating fool. Even when I had grown tired of the nuggets, I got them just so I can get to fully experience the sauce… a sauce I knew wasn’t going to last long.

And then, just like that — *snaps fingers to emphasize — it was gone. I was so melancholy. And I remember going on one of my rants about how I never understand why restaurants take away something that is CLEARLY popular amongst its customers. I mean, I kinda get what McDonald’s does with its McRib (something I’ve never tasted, and probably never will now that I don’t fool with the swine, but it resembled that mystery cafeteria meat) by drawing up demand (and pretty much creating cult status) when it only occasionally offers the sammich. But, to totally cut off something from the menu with no guarantee of it returning?! *randomly slaps self in frustration*

Oh, sorry. Kinda lost myself there.

Anyhow.

I was completely thrilled to hear the new news.* So, one day I had a real taste for some fast food and decided to indulge myself in that sweet, sweet chilli sauce I hadn’t had in so long.

So, I (figuratively) skipped into McDonald’s, while passing the ad (the same one as the pic feature up there) with an expectant grin.

It all went down a little like this…

McDonald’s Mama (MM): Hi, welcome to McDonald’s, can I take your order?

Me: Yeah, I’ll have the number 10.

MM: Barbecue sauce?

Me: *smiles* Naw, do you guys have the “sweet chilli?” *polite smile grows into a wistful smile*

MM: *without looking away from cash register* No.

Me (in my head): GAEDGRGHERHGREDHDFVVRWGRFGBDFVF

Me: (mumbles): Oh. Um.. well, yeah barbecue sauce is fine.

-__O

I felt like a girl getting herself hyped up for a date, only to be stood up. Which, maybe be a little dramatic, but you have no idea how much I wanted to molest that sweet chilli. Hmph.

I mean, they HAD the ad out there and didn’t have the sauces?! SIR. Yes, McDonald’s is a man. Only a man can disappoint me like this. Pow!

Anyway, as I was halfheartedly munching on my basic bish barbecue nuggets, I was expressing my disappointed frustrations with the homie, L Boogie when I mentioned the writing on the nugget box (it basically asked which SAUCE, I had… the nerve) and how it was taunting me. I told her I wanted to just write, “STFU HO!” on the box and this fool said I should.

And what did THIS — *points to self* — fool, do?

Well, I’m a shower not a teller…

Um, yeah…

So, Pinchers, are you a McDonald’s fan? And if so, are you excited about the new sauces? Which one is your favorite? While, you’re commenting, by the way… please feel free to give me a hug for the strife I’ve had to endure. Merci and whatnot.

Love ya like Fred Sanford loves insulting Esther,

Cheekie

*RIGHT after typing “new news”, I knew it was redundant, but I kept saying it over and over in my head (and a couple out loud) and figured it sounded cute and funny. So, I kept it there. Would you like to try on the “who gon’ check me boo?” outfit?

Express Yourself… Checkout

I know you're about that self-reliance, homie, but um...

You never quite understand something that happens to someone else until it happens to you.  Ya know, walking in someone else’s shoes and whatnot.

No other time made this phrase more acute (and honestly, hilariously silly) than this past Friday.

A little backstory.

There’s a Walgreens right across the street from my work building and it always comes in handy when I need to make a quick stop for snacks, drugs, and misc. chick products. Recently, the store made a little change that probably… well, saved them a little change. They tore down all of the cash registers (except for in the beauty and photo departments) and replaced them with several self-checkout registers.

Folks were not pleased with this. I, however, didn’t mind the change. Other than the fact that I felt sorry for the few people who lost their jobs to a machine, I adapted to the new system quite easily. I used to chuckle at the poor ladies who threw up their hands in frustration as they called over one of the staff members for assistance because they couldn’t get a barcode to scan or they had trouble with choosing a form of payment. I would think to myself, “It ain’t that difficult, and it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

Yeah, karma is quite the female dog.

So, this past Friday, I went into Walgreens to get a card for my niece’s high school graduation. I got the graduation card and an iTunes gift card. I moseyed on over to the self-checkout section with a quiet confidence and stood at one of the registers. I hit the start button and scanned the graduation card. Then threw the card in the bag.

Self-Checkout Chick Voice (SCCV): Please put item in bag or choose, “Do Not Want To Bag Item”

Me (in my head): o_O Um, it’s in there. *plucks card out of bag and places it back in just in case the sensor didn’t pick it up the first time*

SCCV (on screen): Choose, “Don’t Want To Bag Item”

Me: SIGH.

So, even though I clearly had the item in the bag, I chose, “Do Not Want To Bag Item” just so the lady would STFU.

Then came time for the gift card. Lawd, this is when things went waaaaay left. On some Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable” ish. I tried to scan the bar code across the scanner, but it didn’t seem to take. So, I called over a staff member. I was calm at this point because I had a feeling they would have to use their authority to scan a gift card anyway. So, the staff member scanned it and put in some bawse code and that was that. Well, at least I thought so.

I tried to put the gift card in the bag, but then…

SCCV: Please call staff member to authorize gift card.

Me: I just did!

I called her over again and she performed some special magic trick to get the SCCV to pipe down. I tried to bag it again…

SCCV: Please authorize date of gift card.

Me: WTF. *calls over staff member again*

She returned another time and laughed all, “I have no idea why we even have to put in the date of these cards, it’s so silly.” I laughed with her because at that point, I was pretty frustrated and really, there was nothing else do to. Plus, the lady was nice, so it’s not like she pushed a button.

Finally, the gift card went through. But, it wasn’t over. Then, I tred to press “Finish & Pay” so I could get the eff outta there. This was already taking too long at this point. And I did this right before heading work, thinking it would be a quick trip. Alas…

SCCV: Unexpected item in bagging area.

Me: *Scooby Doo confused bark*

SCCV (onscreen): *highlights the graduation card it had trouble sensing in the first dayum place*

Me (through gritted teeth): HO, YOU JUST SAID…

I called over the staff member one last time. I showed her that I, indeed, scanned the card but it accused me of stealing a cotton pickin’ Hallmark card. Again, I was laughing with her and she laughed, shook her head, and cleared the transaction. I paid and hurried the entire hell outta there.

JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER DAY SAINTS.

So, yes, now I know the pure frustration of self-checkouts. Like I said before, I already felt bad for the folks who lost their jobs, but really, what is the point of completely replacing humans with machines if you’re going to need the humans to be the backup when the machines (inevitably) fail?

*flings self off curb*

Pinchers, do you feel me? Have you had any problems with the self-checkout trend? Rant away. Mi eCrib es su eCrib.

Love ya like Foghorn Leghorn loves to go off on 50-lem tangents,

Cheekie

Somethin’ For Side-Eyes: Let It Marinate

 

His last name is “Johnson”, and he’s getting soaked. What I did there… you see it?

Sometimes you come across a story in the media and the only thing you can muster at the time is:

o_O

Yeah, that’s kinda how I felt when the homie, Keisha Brown decided to share this. <<~~ That is probably not so safe for work.

After a little bit of shock, awe, confuddlement, and questions from the title alone, I decided to read up a little bit more on it. The article discusses the art of “dick-soaking”, which has apparently been practiced within the Mormon faith for quite some time. Hit up the Urban Dictionary definition (#2) here.

Basically, this practice is about men being able to marinate their man-parts on some dick Lawry’s ish so that they can feel the bliss that is the cooch-hug, without actually getting to the happy ending.

This all brings up a couple of points:

– Loosely Defined. Of course, the modernization of many societal aspects (such as technology or media) includes sex in some form. I mean, it makes sense that the main thing that drives our choices (other than money) would be altered in a way to match the changing world we live in. Mormonism, at its purest, is a very strict practice and yet the many young folks that are born into it are expected to adapt to it, despite the fact that the world today is leaning toward… well… not-so-strict. This paradox leads the younger generation toward changing the definition of what constitutes as sex so that they can feel better about possibly going against their strong morals. And the strong morals bring me to…

– Holier Than Thou? Not So Much. Lemme get this 180 degrees straight from the jump. I’m not one to look down on anyone’s faith just because it doesn’t mirror mine. Hell, the way I see it, we have one main thing in common: We have faith. What I cannot stand is the hypocrisy laced within being holier-than-thou.* I mean, being involved in this peen-soaking method pretty much excludes you from standing on a high moral pedestal, in my honest opinion. And this is not to say that everyone who practices this religion (or any other one that doesn’t condone pre-marital sex) are holier-than-thou, because that’s obviously not true. My point is that if do you feel that you can be holier than thou and still partake in this… well, you can’t. I mean, at one point, any penetration meant sex, now it’s only if there’s geyser explosion involved?  So, I guess that means that the TONS of women who believe they haven’t yet experienced an orgasm during penetrated sex are still virgins? Oh.

Ah well, lemme digress ASAPtually. Pinchers, the (heated) floor is yours. What say you? Speak (er… type) on it.

 

Love ya like Ochocinco loves to believe his last name means “eighty-five”… except it doesn’t,

Cheekie

 

P.S. Yeah, so a former Mormon says this entire practice is falseness, but then a commenter on this post says that it is true and has been for years. Whoever to believe, I think the above post is still relevant even if ONE person is doing it…

 

 

 

*This is not dissimilar to Huckabee lambasting Natalie Portman for getting married outta wedlock and “parading” it around, even though no one remembers any similar statements when Bristol Palin, Sarah Palin & Co did the same thing, arguably at a higher rate. Funny, since the main difference between the two girls is that one is GROWN and the other one was a minor. Huh. I mean, if you’re gonna judge, judge all the way around, not only for folks that share your agenda. And for the record, I don’t see anything “wrong” with either case.

Walk It Out

 

If you’re gonna walk, walk like him.

Man, February is over already?

Anyways, doe.

Living and working in the second city, I’ve learned to become a professional walker. When you work downtown especially, having a car is more of a burden than a benefit. Spending a week’s meal on parking is not where it’s at. Anyhow, there is a certain finesse to being a downtown pedestrian in a big city, and unfortunately, not everyone has perfected that. Hell, some have barely touched the surface.

These people have helped create some of my Pedestrian Pet Peeves. Want me to share them with you? You’re welcome:

– The Pause. Picture this. You’re rushing toward the train station, hauling ass, and breathing like oxygen has beef with your lungs. You’re zigging and zagging in between 50-lem people (while cursing that too many effing people live in Chicago) when all of a sudden, the person right in front of you stops. Just stops in the middle of the damn sidewalk. To text Jesus on their smartphone, to acknowledge Hammer Time… who knows what. Point is, they’re in your way and halting your ability to be great.* I cannot deal with folks that ack (yes, ack) like they’re the only ones using the sidewalk. Those who do this? Don’t get mad when you get bumped into due to the fact that my legs don’t have anti-lock breaks during rush hour. And, tourists, I LOVE your doe-eyed innocence in reaction to our city and please don’t think I hate you in general (because anyone will become a tourist if they travel, thus should sympathize), but PLEASE don’t pick the hour right before 9am and/or the hour right after 5pm to stop and take pictures. You’re not gonna get the best impression of the city’s patrons. Trust.

– The Slow-Mo. If you hang around me long enough, you’ll hear me say at least once, “Everything is better in slow-motion.” The over-dramatization, the deep voice… all of it is pure hilarity. The one exception? Walking downtown. Walking behind someone walking much too slowly is probably worse than walking behind the abrupt stopper. Because sometimes, when you try to cut off the slow walker by going around them, they somehow swerve to the same side that you’re trying to go toward, causing this whole mess of cartoony frustration. For those of you that work downtown in a large metropolitan-esque city, you realize you have to learn what I call “The Downtown Strut.” And that’s when you walk faster than normal in order to blend in with everyone else who seems to be in a rush. Even if you’re not in a rush, at least pretend as if you are. Hell, I’ve embraced The Downtown Strut so deeply, I don’t even think I ever walk slowly. It’s that serious.

– The Huddle. I don’t ask for much but I’mma PLEAD for this. Look, I know that being around your friends is lovely and you all love to be together forever. However. I’mma need you not to look like you’re performing the riverdance while walking down the sidewalk. I cannot with a group of folks who MUST stand on the side of each other, blocking the entire sidewalk. The “walk on the right side” rule is there for a reason. So that both sides of “traffic” are able to get through effectively. If you’re in a group of 4 (hell, sometimes 3 depending on how small the sidewalk is), it would be fab if two of you walked behind the other two. I’m sure you’ll live. I mean, more people ultimately will live because you’ll be avoiding a street brawl caused by a simple “Um, move!”

So, those are just a few of my fellow pedestrian pet peeves. Pinchers, what are some of yours? And yeah, us pedestrians aren’t the best in relationship to drivers, so drivers might as well speak their annoyances here, too. I DO admit, some of my pedestrian peers do some STUPID ish such as not allowing something that weighs 10 times as them… win.

 

Love ya like James Franco loves to be as high as a kite in Afghanistan,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*In this instance, “being great” is equivalent to “catching your train on time so that you don’t end up doing the ‘fail face’ as you watch the train leave you.”

With Age Comes… More Time Spent On Earth

This is a learned brotha right here.

There are a lot of universally accepted truths. Such as “two wrongs don’t make a right” or “two terms don’t make a Popular-Vote elected President.” These are things we’ve come to accept due to them being true more often than not. However, there are things called “exceptions.” And not just any ol’ exceptions, ones that occur enough to cause us to take notice.

One of these exceptions is age. There are several connotations associated with it, by default. Which is cool, because like I said above, they’re mostly true. However, I think it’ll benefit us all if we didn’t automatically assume certain things because we’re gonna end up butthurtedly disappointed. Much like life ain’t black or white, I figure we should vet folks on a case-by-case basis.

The following aspects, in particular…

– The Wisdom. Yes, me, you, yo mama, yo cousin and the shady DJ at yo family reunion knows the saying: “With age comes wisdom.” See, sometimes I gotta flash a bit of “o_O” at how widely accepted it is. And if not a side-eye, at least a slight hesitation. While I don’t want to sound like one of those “know-it-all youngins” that elders (rightfully) can’t stand, my stance is this: NO one knows everything.* And how long you’ve been chillin’ on the 3rd rock from the sun has no real influence on how much you do know. My motto has always been and will always be “quality over quantity.” What truly dictates wisdom is experience. And, sure you are more “likely” to have more experience with age, but it’s not always the case. Take for example, a 80-year-old lifelong-hermit and a 30-year-old world traveler. Yes, two extreme examples, but hey, how you know it can’t happen? The latter of the two obviously has more quality life experience. Would you still take on the worldy advice of the older person simply because they’re older? And this is a sincere question that I’d love answered in the comments. I’ll pinch ya for it!

– The Maturity. The simple fact that there are still grown men roaming the streets in zoot suits coming at females incorrect on some, “ayo shawty” ish and grown women wearing coochie dresses to a Justin Bieber concert kinda wins my argument for me. But, allow me to expound a bit. There is something truly unnerving about shaking my head at a person that society tells me to respect, by default. I mean, ain’t these roles supposed to be reversed? Not unlike wisdom, I believe maturity is linked with experience. Certain occurrences in life either force or guide you into maturation. And those experiences may pop up in your 37th year or even your 19th year. It happens. Every damn day. And how close you are to receiving your AARP membership card in the mail has little to nothing to do with it.

– The Love. This one probably confuddles me the most because I don’t exactly know the basis. Maybe it’s my young ignorance? *winksandnudges* A common phrase I’ve heard throughout my life is “You’re too young to be in love, just have fun” or “You’re too young to know what love is.” Oh, so now feelings have an age cap? And if so, what exactly is the universally-designated minimum age that someone can know love? I mean, sure there are certain developmental stages we encounter and surpass as we’re growing, but even those aren’t concrete. Everyone’s experience is different. And as far as the first quote, I truly appreciate the sentiment because sure it is ideal to be “free” and flock the streets as much as you can while you’re young, but when you’re truly in love, do you really wish to be anywhere else? If I’m not mistaken, the “regret” for being in love doesn’t show up until it’s done. If it even shows up at all. And if there’s anything I’ve learned from several of my elders, the best thing to do is to “live in the here and now.” Luther.

I’ve asked more questions than a damn question mark so I’m just gonna refer you to the questions up there, Pinchers. Oh, I do have one more: What other universally accepted aspects of aging do you rebuke or question? Speak your thoughts, your piece, and drop your mic on the way out.

 

Love ya like Lil’ Kim loves Paypal,

Cheekie

 

 

 

*Ok, maybe Stephen Hawking.