Click Here to get this from FreeFlashToys.com! The Little Brown Spot: November 2006

The Little Brown Spot

This is my house. My house of poo. Scooping on the poo is what I do. A place to go that's all about me. I comment on whatever I please.

Monday, November 20, 2006

Check Writers and Serial Killers

Here we are again – back to the subject of retards. Once again, I’m overwhelmed with the retards who have invaded my personal space. Given such - I feel it is my civic duty to expose them, and their stupid retarded actions, to the free world.

Don’t be fooled – this is not just about my blowing off steam. There is a lesson to be learned here. Listen up and think about how you can apply this simple blog entry to your every day life. This itsy bitsy check writing story is not just about check writing. It is about time management, efficiency, and courtesy to your fellow man. Three things that are near and dear to my heart. And three things that, if properly respected, will make the world a better place to live.

Allow me to paint the following scenario for you. (Based on actual events, of course.)

You, like everyone else, are busy. You need to run to the store, perhaps to buy diapers for your child who has a poop-infested butt at home. Perhaps you are a single mom who is paying a fortune for a baby sitter so you can do some quick Christmas shopping for (and without) your kids. Maybe you are a husband who left work early to surprise your wife by picking up dinner at the grocery store. Whatever the case may be – it’s your time – and it’s precious. As the world turns these days, you are busy.

You are at the store. You get in line to check out. You are third, fourth, or fifth in line waiting on everyone else ahead of you. Your wheels are turning – you need to make it home fast for a plethora of reasons. Inevitably, the line is slow. But, finally after waiting for what seems like forever, the person in front of you is finishing up. (I’ll use “she” in my example because it usually is.) The cashier says “That will be $105.42, ma’am.” Then and only then is when “she” decides to take her purse off of her shoulder and start digging through mounds of crap in search of her check book.

Hello?! This is unacceptable folks. Not only have you effectively mismanaged your own time, but your inefficiencies and lack of respect have affected the lives of everyone around you. Now we all stop and wait. For you. Because you were unprepared, and because you have no concern for your fellow man, we are all now farther behind. Have a little common courtesy. You should have had the check book out, pen ready, and everything filled in except for the amount owed long before now. And, furthermore, who writes a check any more? Where is your check card? Last time I checked, it was 2006. We write checks for bills once a month – not for kitty litter and KY at Target.

If you are one of these people, take your check book out right now. Place it in front of your face. Now smack yourself 10-20 times in the head so that you will remember this in the future. Here’s another piece of advice. When you have finished smacking yourself, look around you. It’s stupid people like you that become the targets of serial killers. The ones who are not paying attention. The ones who have no idea what’s going on around them. You are probably also the one who digs through your purse in the parking garage for your keys, the one who gets snatched up because you are parked by a big white van, the one who runs out of gas leaving a party at 2:00AM, the one who walks down the dark alley alone.

If I wake up tomorrow morning and the newspaper says a woman’s head was found in the refrigerator of a serial killer, it won’t be me. It will be you. The inconsiderate, unconcerned, oblivious check writer.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

My Black Booty

It's no secret. Those who know me are well aware that I have the booty of a black girl. It’s been an issue my whole life. People know it – and people just accept it for what it is. Don't get me wrong - having a black booty is not a bad thing. If you are black. I am not.

Yesterday I was feeling a little brave and decided to try on some blue jeans. For me, this is almost as traumatic as swimsuit shopping (just without the screaming.) 1 out of 25 pair might fit. Most of the time, I just leave the dressing room empty handed and head for the shoe section where everything fits.

None the less, as I stand there staring at myself in the dressing room mirror, I start to sing the song "Black Betty." Then it dawned on me how appropriate that song would be if I just changed the words a bit. So here goes....

My version of "Black Booty."

Whoa, black booty (bam-ba-lam)
Whoa, black booty (bam-ba-lam)
Black booty had two childs (bam-ba-lam)
The damn thing's gone wide (bam-ba-lam)

I said oh, black booty (bam-ba-lam)
You really make me sigh (bam-ba-lam)
Black booty like french fries (bam-ba-lam)
You know that's no lie (bam-ba-lam)
Black booty up another size (bam-ba-lam)

I said why, black booty (bam-ba-lam)
Must you always get bigger (bam-ba-lam)
Why do you like Hilfiger (bam-ba-lam)
Black booty's so rock steady (bam-ba-lam)
Black booty don't like tready (bam-ba-lam) (tready is short for treadmill)

I ain't from Birmingham (bam-ba-lam)
Way down in alabam' (bam-ba-lam)
Black booty shakes her thing (bam-ba-lam)
Black booty makes me sing (bam-ba-lam)

Whoa, black booty (bam-ba-lam)
Whoa, black booty (bam-ba-lam)

Friday, November 10, 2006

The Top 8 Reasons Why I am a Shoe Ho

To appease Catherine.... uh-hem:
  1. You can tell everything you need to know about a person by their shoes. I want people to look at my shoes and say "Cool."
  2. Shoes are the perfect date. Pick any pair of the litter. They will go out with you, and they will come back home with you. No questions asked.
  3. Shoes provide confidence, power, freedom and support. They carry us through life. They get us through the good times - and the bad. All with dignity. All with style.
  4. You may have a bad hair day, a fat day, an ugly day.. whatever. Great shoes never change. Great shoes make us greater.
  5. Great shoes don't make our butts look big, and you don't need a girdle for your ankles.
  6. I never want to be caught without the perfect pair of shoes. Therefore, I believe more is more.
  7. Shoe shopping gets me high. It's better than any martini I've ever had, or any drug I've never done. Shoes don't make you hung over, and you don't puke them up the next day.
  8. My name is Kim. And I am a shoe ho.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

I'm BaaaaAaaaaak!

Did you miss me? I apologize to all of my blog friends. It has been a CRAZY three weeks. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I have been unable to post since my last entry of 10/20/06. That is because:

  1. Catherine and Amy were right. On 10/20/06 I left work and went shoe shopping.
  2. On my way to the mall, I stopped at KFC (not crack-fil-a, mind you) and inadvertently ate the teenage mutant ninja turtle parts that KFC passes off as chicken.
  3. I washed it down with a Coke - which I later used to clean my toilet.
  4. After a successful shoe shopping trip, I went to the parking garage to get into my car. I was approached by a very handsome looking gentleman in a business suit who wanted to sell me very expensive cologne at a really good price. Smelling it is the last thing I remember. When I woke up, I had been robbed! I don't know for sure, but I don't think that was cologne folks!
  5. Since the thief took my purse, my car, and my new shoes, I had to find a pay phone to call the police. Thank goodness I had a quarter in my pocket. But, as luck would have it, the pay phone ate my money. When I tried to retrieve it, I accidentally pricked my finger with the hypodermic needle that had been left in the coin retrieval!
  6. After that - I figured I needed a drink. So, I hitched a ride to the closest bar. Since I didn't have any money, I flirted with someone and got them to buy me a drink. Next thing I know, I'm in a sleazy motel room and one of my kidneys is missing! Thankfully, they packed the incision with ice, left a phone nearby, and I was able to call 911.
  7. After a week's stay in the hospital, I went back home. (That's when I cleaned the toilet with the coke - worked great by the way.) I also paid the bills that had been piling up.
  8. Since I NEVER win anything, you can imagine my surprise when I read my e-mail and found out that Bill Gates wanted to share his fortune with ME! I was notified that I was getting a check for approximately $24,800! That will sure help with those hospital bills.
  9. I was so excited that I decided to pay off everything. But just after I had licked all of the envelopes for the bills, a bump appeared on my tongue. My next door neighbor is a doctor who quickly came over and informed me that I had accidentally consumed spider eggs from the envelope glue. There were spiders growing in my mouth!
  10. Thankfully, she is skilled with a paring knife. You should have seen those spiders crawl right out of my tongue! It was a horror show.

Assuming a serial killer doesn't leave a tape of a crying baby on my doorstep leading me to wander outside in search, but am thereby abducted - I'll be back tomorrow. No promises though. Like I said, it's been a crazy three weeks.