Uncothuku #5: Audio Assualt

Don't care why he left
She is louder than the train
I need an Ipod

Uncouthku #4: Hunting

Ugly chick snares guy
Captive sperm creates full womb
Cute girl re-thinks bait

Uncouthku #3: Inhale/Exhale

Walk to morning train
Guy in front sparks a blunt
Hope the wind picks up

Uncouthku #2: Don't Judge Me

I can't place your face
Oh, we used to date, panic sets
Don't know if we fucked

Uncouthku

This is the first in a series of Haikus that express my politically incorrect and often crass internal dialogue.

Enjoy!

Kinda pretty girl
Ass ugly guy with third leg
Nothing else to say

What Credit?

A wise person once said that "poverty takes planning," and that wise person is me. These challenging economic times bring about some nightmare moments for those of us holding it together on one income. Here are some of my best financial tips to get you over the hump.

• You have to save money ~ We all felt this crisis months ago. The news is reporting it now because it is catching up with people that have money. Having said that it still does effect you. The crunch that everyone is discussing relates to credit. Cash is still king! It would have taken a prayer for many of us to qualify for a loan from an institution before and now it will now take a parting of the red sea sized miracle. The good news is the FDIC, the organization that makes sure the local bank can still give you your money, is not failing. Your cash is still safe in the banks. Now is the time to up the amount of money that is withdrawn from your paycheck and goes directly to your savings account. With credit being so limited even those emergency pay-day loans that we sometimes have to get may not even be an option. Do yourself a favor and start saving. $5 a week adds up. ANY amount of money you save today will be there for you tomorrow and trust me you will need it.
  
• Stop drying your clothes ~ For those of us who pay to wash and dry, this is a no brainer! You can double the power of your laundry budget by getting a drying rack and allowing the stale air of your apartment to dry your clothes for you. If you have a washer and dryer in your house, think about the amount of money you will save on your electric bill. Drying racks at Walmart are 10 bucks. Clothes lines are plentiful at the dollar store. You don't even need clothes pins. Use your kids jump rope. I sacrificed and brought a drying rack and it paid for itself in two weeks and I washed twice as many clothes. (If anyone wants to come over and help fold them; send me an email.) I will be honest and say that I still dry huge things like towels but clothes never again. Lastly, it is great for the environment.
  
  
  
• To Be Real, Stop buying processed food ~ This probably seems counter intuitive and down right mean. There are so few comforts in the single parent life and one of them is definately not having to cook dinner! But it is actually so much cheaper to buy real food. For example, that big bag of chicken nuggets I used to buy for $5.89 at the Walmart can get me three packs of meat (usually chicken legs, turkey burger and some beef cubes) at the same Walmart. Another tip for the meat department, if you eat pork go for it. Swine is no longer in favor so it is dirt cheap for great cuts.
  
  
  
• Stop saying I deserve it ~ I spend money that I don't have on things I don't need becasue it makes me feel like I am in control. All the while, I am singing to myself "I deserve this!" It is my way of getting back at the job that under pays and over works me, the child that doesn't let me sleep and apartment I live in that doesn't have cable. For the moments it takes to walk from the aisle to the cash register, I am a regular American not a working poor one. The other side of that is anxiety I feel when I try to pay bills and have spent it on my sense of control. Do yourself a favor and realize that what you really deserve is stable financial ground to stand on and the kind of success that wisdom and sacrifice only brings.
  

Of course I have more tips because I am me but this should get you started. Happy saving.

MCCAIN

Lord HAVE MERCY! I am so disappointed in him. I used to be a strong McCain supporter but he is killing me. Once upon at time, he was a strong ali on crossing the aisle and doing the right things for the country. But then he realized how old his ass is getting and decided that he had to run for president.

His performance on this debate was childish, rude, and condescending. His repeated comment that Obama doesn't "understand" chaps my ass! Obama has a JD from Harvard. There isn't much he doesn't understand and he didn't get to Harvard by being a double legacy; the way McCain got admitted to the Naval academy. McCain has become a fear monger. He chose to invoke fear toinght, i.e. by talking about Putin's Russia as being a new KGB regime, rather than educate and inform us about his policies. Of course, one would have to have real policies and strategies devised in order to tell people about them.

I don't even have the energy to talk about what is wrong with Palin.

Underwhelmed in 19138

I am all for taking refuge from your life's troubles in the problems of your garden variety over acted teen TV drama series. However, this 90210 remake leaves a lot to be desired. With all the modern trappings there are still some very old problems with the character development of a certain negro young man. While I know how grateful I should be for his token representation, and at the risk of biting the hand that scripted "us" in to the Beverly Hills elite; um not so much! For starters it is completely implausible that some upwardly mobile family from Kansas would adopt a black child in the 90's; hello, everyone knows that Chinese was the ethnic group du jour! If that isn't enough to satisfy the gods of 80's diversity, this week he discovers that he is attracted to emasculating women. To coin a phrase from one of the best shows to jump the shark......Seriously!

In other news, what is up with Mary Tyler Moore's face?!!!

When Celibacy Is Too Much

So this morning, I caught a glimpse of the television in a rush to the bathroom and my son was watching Curious George. That's when I had the dirtiest thought of my life. "I wonder what else is big on the Man With The Big Yellow Hat..." I know. I deserve to be arrested. I should be purged in the town square; tarred and feathered, quartered even!! What is wrong with me? I will tell you: celibacy. Like too much sex can cloud your mind, too little will make you loopy and a border line degenerate.

Vicar of Dibley

I believe that it is a virtue to abstain from having cable television; code for I can't afford it. Surely, this must be a virtuous thing as the good Lord has blessed me with such excellent syndicated British programming as the Vicar of Dibley. I don't get some of the references to English culture but I certainly get the confederacy of dunces that occupy this town and thus provide me with many giggles. I hope that one evening you stumble upon this little slice of heaven.

Lifetime is of the Devil

It is Sunday morning and I am trying to get ready for church. As a child of the 80's and a product of South Philly, I can't do anything without a tv on. I turn on my 21 inch tube and what is on but the Lifetime TV network.

A mildly interesting melodrama about a woman going through a divorce featuring Chicago Hope's Christine Lahti. Well, five minutes turn into 20 minutes then 20 to 60. To make matters worse Colin Cowey, the only sexually ambiguous man that I really want to sleep with besides Prince, is on the show. (Might I also add that he does a great job too.) I can't help myself. I am watching tv and I can't stop. During a commercial break I put my four year old son down for a nap so that I can continue watching this show in peace.

It is now 1:00pm. Service is over and I am happily engaged in a wondeful movie about an experience I hope I never have. Let's hope there is cable in hell.

Transit Zen

Welfare isn't what it used to be and the people at my job should be thankful. For if that dearest of un-fairly stigmatized social programs was actually a viable option for sustenance, I would have cussed out some people and quit my job a long time ago.

I like working. I would venture to say that I love working.

I think I like it so much because every day is like a do over. Mother Nature turns her reversable midnight blue duvet of night over to reveal the orange and red stripes of an early spring morning. The brisk walk to the train is accented by the swirls of dogwood pollen dancing in the morning breeze. Purpose driven millions betake themselves to their vocations with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication. The collective energy of the masses produces a psalm of offering for another glorious industrial morn'. A second chance to get it right. There is nothing like it.

At least it feels that way until I get on the damn train. The usual gathering of pushy, miserable and rude degenerates and their foul mouthed offspring are gathered on the Express to Walnut-Locust. They welcome the dawn with f-bombs while spewing unwanted sun flower seed shells on the floor made sticky by dried up Ole' E. (less than an inch from my deceptively stylish Payless shoe!!) My favorite thing about riding the poor excuse for mass transit known as SEPTA is not the delightful company or the foul aroma of the urine scented Glade Oil fan that is certainly plugged in at City Hall. (How else could you explain the consistent perfume of vomit and floral scented bleach low notes with just a hint of lingering crack smoke that greet me on a daily basis?) No, the Express ride is not my favorite part. The leg of my dialy commute that makes my day is competing with the workers of Independence Blue Cross and Blue Shield for a place on the trolley because they are too lazy to walk four blocks.

Newly saturated in the palpable stench that is the City Hall transit stop I move toward the Green Line - Subway Surface Trolley area. An older woman is walking very slowly in front of me, which I don't mind. Mother has earned her right to take her time. I am even immune to the periodic jabs of faux brass studs on various oversized pleather bags that all seem to be spray painted metallic gold. The endorphines released by walking begin to renew my sense of early am joy as I finally emerge at the Trolley loading platform.

The trolley arrives. It is the 36 and like lead particles drawn to a magnet from 5th grade science class we all journey toward the pre-destined place where the doors will open and we can board the trolley. Picture it. Scores of people trying to board a trolley through two sets of doors that are maybe 2ft. wide. A boarding delay is to be expected. A reasonable and courteous commuter would get on the trolley and move away from the door so that those behind them could board the trolley quickly and safely. After all, we all want to move a way from the City Hall stink bomb. These thoughts have never occurred to the trolley riding employees of Independence Blue Cross and Blue Shield or as I like to call them the Four Block Fools (FBF).

Thanks to our trolley riding friends at IBX, a small delay is exponentially compounded because they walk up the three small trolley steps, find the nearest pole to hold on to, turn around and stop. BLOCKING THE WAY FOR EVERYONE ELSE. They stand in front of empty seats, obstructing the aisles with their messenger bags, entitled attitudes and very unattractive id badges on neck lanyards that stab you as you squeeze by them on the way to your seat.

Their stiff stances and suspiciously prolonged stares at the floor screams what they will never audibly articulate.

"I am only going four blocks so why should I sit down?"

"It's the next stop so it is no big deal."

As I finally reach my seat having survived the gauntlet of trolley traffic impedeers; my cowardice shrouds me like a cloak. I have, once again, sold out. I did not raise my fist in protest of the bullying tactics of the ruling class FBF. No, I just took a seat in the back of the trolley and tried to busy myself with a magazine from my bag. Moments later, we arrive at the 19th Street stop and the oppressors exit the trolley in droves. As the trolley pulls off, I fantasize about rebelling against the FBF. One day... FBF...One day.

The Bus of Love

A watched pot never boils and sometimes I think that I will never get married. Here is an effort to put my situation in perspective.

I decided to count the time in months or years between relationships. I discovered, on average, there is usually a 4 month gap between relationships/flings/boring dinners. Kind of like when you wait for the bus; it helps to know when the next one is coming (at least I hope I will be).

And I think the same is true for not taking every ride that comes your way. When I was looking for the "C" Bus why did I get on the "L"? I can't begin to tell you how many "L"s I have taken. Traveling back to the Emotional Readiness Stop every 4 months is just not cute. How many good trips did I miss out on because I was walking back from some place that I shouldn't have been? Makes me wonder.

Dating: The 6 Month Rule

Kitty Korner -- Dating Support

The 6 month Rule

For every story, there are three sides; my side, your side and the truth. In every relationship, there are three people; you, the dude and Kitty. Kitty is your sex drive and as my friend Armenta says “SHE WILL LEAD YOU DOWN THE DARK AND SHADY PATH EVERY TIME!” In order to date successfully, or a little better than how I was dating which could only be described as abysmal, you have to get honest with your self and set some ground rules.

We are going to start with the easy external stuff.


Rule #1

The Probe (This is not what you think it is. Y’all are so nasty!!)

The Probe stands for the probationary period that you should institute when you meet someone that you are interested in dating. No one should meet your child for until you have known them for six months. Hear me on this. It is not cute to have to explain to your child/children where their newly leased, Updated Daddy went.

You are not slick. No play dates with this guy and his kids. Come on! Our kids are not stupid. They know when something is going on and they will be the first to see the romantic connection between you and dude.

So after months, literally of baby sitters and dates, you are ready for some spontaneous time together. He has free time and you are at home with your child that is going to sleep in 30 minutes. Enter the Night Shift, the single mom smash and grab.

Since Kitty is bound to take over and the next thing you know your legs will be over your head and ummm… well anyway how do we navigate these treacherous waters. I think it is okay to let him punch the clock after you feel like you can trust him in your home. Numbers help me keep Kitty in check and stop her from running my brain over. If you can make it, don’t give him the time card until 3 months into it. As with any other job, make sure has completed the necessary paper work. The IRS should have nothing on your investigative skills. Do you know his complete name? Where was he born? Is he a US Citizen? For direct deposit purposes does he have a saving and checking account? Bottom line you need to know as much about this man as possible before you allow him to spend the night in your house with your child. Which leads us to a discussion on how the night shift works, the formula is simple: he has to be in after your child is asleep and out before he wakes up. Now let’s be clear, you child is probably not sleep 10 minutes after you put him to bed. Come on y’all! Wait at least an hour and then let the brother in. The converse of is true as well. He has got to be out an hour before your child wakes up. Do not budge on these parameters. Remember the Night Shift is a part of The Probe. Not the end of it. The point of this whole exercise is to keep you and your child safe and drama free. If he breaks the rules then, he loses his job. Lastly, make sure your bedroom door has a lock.

This may all seem a little unrealistic to you. I think achieving want you want most out of life requires work and no really achievement is gotten easily. Six months in the grand scheme of things is very little time. However, six months in the dating world is a very long time. The flakes will hopefully shake out by then. Remember women control relationships. Preserve your rights and reserve your right to extend the Probe.