Ain’t No More Shame Bih.

Yesterday my brother called. The one I’m closest with. Who is directly underneath me in birth order. The one I probably speak to the least. He makes mistakes frequently which end up with him paying prolonged visits behind bars.

We talk about a lot of things. Or he mostly talks and I mostly listen. To his excuses. To how proud he is of me. To how he’s especially proud since I dropped out of school and blah blah blah. He doesn’t mention that I dropped out of traditional high school because of bullies and because I was a teenager and everything that happens to teenagers is the end of the world. So I left traditional high school, went directly to Job Corps and before I would have completed traditional high school; graduated with my GED and CNA.

He doesn’t mention that after that I kept moving up. Went back to school. Got my nursing degree. That in between there I had a baby and got married. That I’ve never lived with my mother after the age of eighteen. That I’ve pulled myself along to who I am now without the help of social services.

He doesn’t know how difficult being a business owner is. That managing a home, and a family, and dogs, and a writing career are the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. I just don’t quit.

He doesn’t think about how we came from the same home, in the same city, with the same mom and dad. That the city and circumstances that he blames for his downfall are the same ones that I credit for my toughness. My tenacity. My ability to code shift. My ability to barter and negotiate. To think outside the box. To always try to be two steps ahead of danger. To be myself. To discern whether someone is genuine or not within the first few words. To do so many nuanced things that I use to run my business and my life daily.

After we hung up, I realized that his call, which was totally about him was actually ALL about me. Somewhere deep inside of me I’ve been carrying these things around in shame. The GED, the baby at 18, the divorce. Even the roughened edges which help me get through most days. My annoyance that he was throwing my life in my face as if it were such a bad thing, was actually annoyance at myself for whatever lingering shame I carry from my upbringing and subsequent bad decisions.

It made me realize how I’m often annoyed that people occasionally treat me as less than and how that annoyance has nothing to do with those people and everything to do with me. His call, – which lowkey annoyed me at first since it was late and I was busy working in bed- was just what I needed to grow pass some of my hidden shame. Like I told him on the phone, the Universe always gives you exactly what you need, exactly when you need it.

 

Also, God is from Brick City and the best roses grow from concrete.

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On Sundays I Hate My Dog

On Sundays I hate my dog. Like for real hate him. Like I would low-key let my 2 year old sister/cousin/niece play with him without adult supervision for 5 whole minutes as repayment for the abuse he invokes on us every Sunday.

See, On Sundays Otto thinks that he decides when to tell us to get the fuck up. And yes that’s how he says it “HUMANS, Time to GET THE FUCK UP.” And I know that that’s what he’s saying because he hops around the bed like a baby kangaroo until one of us -read AB – gets up and takes him outside. I couldn’t even tell you what time he does this except to say that it is well before 7 am. See if it happens around 7 am I’ll just cut my losses and get up. 7’s an ok time to sleep in til on the weekend. But he does his little hoppy routine, AB takes him out, and then she comes back into the room to go back to sleep.

The fact that she can go back to sleep is the reason I feel no guilt about allowing her to be the one to get up first. I don’t even blame Otto for doing his hoppy routine as he has to use the bathroom and lacks opposable thumbs to open the door for himself, but I DID buy him a whole piece of real ass grass in a box that he ignores the fuck out of, for this exact reason. BUT that first trip outside was just a warm up. He lays down until AB goes back to sleep then HE STARTS THE DAMN HOPPY ASS ROUTINE ALL OVER AGAIN!!!!!

I’m barely asleep at this point anyway since he halfway woke me up with his first routine, so at this point I usually just open one eye look down at him hopping around like a manic ass kangaroo and remind him that “It’s fucking SUNDAY.” My only semi-day off and that he’s a cute little devil. Also that God or whomever he believes in made him cute for this exact reason and that cuteness only gets you so far.

Of course he doesn’t care about any of what I’m saying. He feels no guilt. In fact, since my eye is open he triples his former hoppy ass routine and starts to bark (as much as his little ass baby puppy voice can bark) and reminds me that I wanted him and to get the fuck up so he that can go outside to play.

Finally I drag myself out of bed and move sluggishly towards the back door so that I can let him out. After I open the door I go back in and sit on the kitchen steps to monitor his playtime (he needs supervision since he likes to eat things that could kill or maim him) there is no furniture in the yard currently because of raggedy ass hurricanes. SO now I sit on the hard ass, cold ass tile floor while Otto runs around like Speedy Gonzales and stares at squirrels. I sit there until he’s had his run of eating grass and rearranging DJ’s stick pile and comes back into the house to look at me like “Ok human you may make your coffee or whatever I’m done. For NOW.”

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I do as I’m told and make myself some coffee so that I won’t kill my family in anger then climb back into bed where I am completely done with any hope of sleep. I guess staring at squirrels and eating grass are worth waking me up out of my sleep. Though, Now that I’m fully awake he climbs back into his bed and he GOES BACK TO SLEEP! His mission, to remind me why I don’t really wanna have a baby in real life, is complete. And I both appreciate this and HATE his cute little puppy face. IMG_7071.JPG

 

It’s My Birthday Bxtch!!!!!

3 years ago, and I know this because the lovely Drea did the research, I created this blog. 5 years after the Blogging boom. 8 years after my friends told me that I should pen my thoughts for the whole world to know. Obviously it took me so long because I don’t even like people that much and because I’m a procrastinating ass asshole. Also because telling the internet what I think and trying to run a business doesn’t really go together for reasons I’ll discuss below.

Here’s my disclaimer. I say things that may make you uncomfortable. If so, stop reading and don’t read anymore of my blogs but DO NOT WALK UP TO ME NEXT WEEK AND REFERENCE THIS BLOG POST. If you have thoughts post them in the comments or better yet share this shit on your Facebook post, tag me in it and tell me how you really feel. BUT don’t walk up to me in a networking meeting and ask me why I wrote what I wrote. Cause mostly:

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In honor of Authentically Adrien’s Birthday here are 30 random ass things that are on my mind. I’m going to be very transparent and vulnerable with you. You’re welcome.

1. I have word finding problems. It stresses me out beyond belief. Unless I’m writing and sometimes even while I’m writing I will give you a sentence because the one word that would suffice instead escapes me. I worry that these are the early signs of Alzheimer’s. AB and I have been together long enough for her to start unknowingly supplying me with the appropriate word. Me-  Because I don’t support what he was saying. Her- You disagree? Me- Yes.

2. Kendrick Lamar goes so HARD. #ThankMeLater

3. I haven’t been able to write since we elected Ya’ll president. (He’s NOT my president.)

4. These last few years have been REALLY difficult. Lots of ups. LOTS of downs. Today while buying groceries I overheard the salesclerk talking about how she wanted to get off of work early so that she can get her hair done for her date tonight and for more than 5 minutes I wanted “I wanna get off of work early so I can get my hair done for my date problems.” Even though I know we all have problems and I know I’m blessed. As fuck.

5. I cuss a lot. I know that makes people uncomfortable. More and more I don’t give a fuck.

6. Pockets on dresses is a gift from Gawd.

7. Look What You Made Me Do Is Trash.

8. I’m a parent and I low-key wanna have another child but mostly I don’t care for other people’s children. Some people’s children should literally be on the front of the condom box or the featured speaker for a sex ed class.

9. People don’t watch their children. That freaks me out. If we’re together and you have children chances are my pulse is on a hundred cause you’re not paying attention and doing CPR on children is my least favorite thing to do.

10. Actually hiring men who think they’re better than me who will quickly treat me like I’m invisible aka shit white men do is my least favorite thing to do.

11. Broccoli is my new anthem.

12. My grandma (I call her ma) has multiple myeloma. I’m in mourning. Last year she was walking this year she requires extensive assistance.

13. I think Iyanla Vanzant is full of shit. Needless to say she can’t fix my life.

14. IF ONE MORE PERSON TELLS ME TO APPLY FOR FOODSTAMPS IMMA SNAP. Irma didn’t effect me on that level and she probably didn’t effect you on that level either. That money is coming from somewhere. STOP. tenor-1.gif

15. The 90s were the best:

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16. I love ebonics and AAVE. Finally I’m allowing myself to love things that were created FUBU.

17. Every time DJ hears me singing Bodak Yellow he questions why I’m doing such a thing. As if 33 is old. As if the hood didn’t make me.

18. “You eat your own people while declaring a ban on cannibalism.” – Didi Delgado get to know her and #ThankMeLater.

19. I miss happy Adrien.

20.  I miss enthusiastic optimistic Adrien.

21. I’m taking The Landmark Communication Seminar soon. I know I need it in my life. I’m not looking forward to them selling me shit. EVERYBODY sells you shit. Get over it.

22. Why we selling shit, order a detail or an oil change from Unique Otto and #ThankMeLater

23. I’m really pondering changing the focus of the Blog to Business, Books, and The Boy. But I also wanna talk about what I wanna talk about when I wanna talk about it. *shrugs* First world problems.

24. “I’m prepared to die in the moment.”- Rihanna

25. The longer ya’ll president is in office the more terrified I become of white men. Being in rooms with large amounts of them is becoming immensely uncomfortable. Like, which one of these dudes in my networking meeting wants me dead or which one of these dudes in my networking meeting thinks I need to go back to Africa. Though the correct thought is how many of these dudes and not, which one.

26. My niece just told me: I’m lovely, kind, pretty, and encouraging.

27. Ashley say’s I’m beautiful.

28. Brittany says I’m hi-Fucking-larious.

I low-key needed all of those opinions. ALSO: Angela Bassett is fione. As fuck. #YoureWelcomeFullSizeRender

29. Make sure you brush you teeth at the bottom. Look in the mirror when you’re done. If there’s plaque present make a dental appointment and floss. #ThankMeLater actually #ThankABLater

30. Minding your business, not being racist, and staying hydrated are all free.

 

Cheers to 3 more years of me telling ya’ll my business on the internet and ya’ll letting me. I love ya’ll. All ya’ll.

 

 

 

For Colored Women Who Are Sick and Tired When Being Sick And Tired Is Not Enough.

For Colored Women Who Are Sick and Tired When Being Sick And Tired Is Not Enough. I see you sis. I know you’re past done. That you want a rain check from any and everything, I get that for colored women rain checks from any and everything are hard to come by. I feel you. I know you wanna lay on the floor and sob into a puddle. I wanna sob too. Actually as I type this the thought of bawling seems much like a necessity. I know that you think when it comes to yourself you don’t have the luxury of giving in to such temptation. I know that you believe that when it comes to yourself nothing is a necessity. It is though. And crying is a healing thing. SO do it. Sit down. Lay down. Bawl, cry, howl, be still. SAY FUCKING NO for once. Breathe. Let the kids soothe themselves. Let someone else figure dinner out or hell go ahead and order in. Luxuriate in the thought of quitting. Then don’t. I see you sis. I wanna quit too. But I can’t. I won’t. As Beyonce says, “Imma keep running cause a winner don’t quit on themselves.” And as much as you want to, you shouldn’t either. Go ahead and take the time to bawl. At least for tonight. Cause, tomorrow we got work to do.

The 4 Types of People Who Show Up When A Family Member is Sick.

My grandma (whom I call mommy) came to FL for a visit and ended up getting sick and spending almost two weeks in the hospital. Now she’s at my home and my family is trying to figure out how to get her back up north to her home. Needless to say I’m stressed but mostly over the people who show up when a family member is sick.

There are 4 basic types of people who show up when a loved one is really sick. Most of them are good and mean well but at least one of them sucks tremendously.

The know it all – Probably saved and sanctified. Probably hoping to gain something from sick family member. Oftentimes money. Keeps saying “Whatever they (sick family member) want to do is what we’re going to do.” Regardless to whether whatever sick family member is saying is actually what’s best for them. Will frequently remind everyone why they’re in charge – oldest, only daughter, lives closest, etc- even though they’ve shown that they’re only on the scene to be seen and have had ample opportunity to step up to the plate and provide care in the past, though they’ve never stepped up before and are barely stepping up now except to be the loudest person in the room.

The caregiver– Been taking care of sick family member since day one. Genuinely wants what’s best for sick family member. Probably overwhelmed. Probably has a ton of other responsibilities who need them as much if not more as sick family member.  Either doesn’t work or has a super stressful ass job that they have to tend to in addition to taking care of everything else.

The knows a lot but won’t speak up– Probably has some sort of medical background. Probably has a good support system and is well balanced.  Tremendously helpful but rarely speaks. More action less talking is their motto. Probably has no children or older children and a supportive spouse. Probably the best candidate to be the caregiver or to assist the caregiver but won’t because they don’t want to deal with the family drama. Unknown.jpeg

The wants to help but doesn’t know how or The does what they can– Probably lives in a different state than sick family member. Tremendously helpful when they’re able to be near. Frequently checks in or follows up with sick family member and caregiver. Expresses what they think is best in a safe way but supports whatever decision is made. Probably has younger children and is either single or the primary breadwinner of their household. Frequently says “Well that sounds like the best thing for sick family member but I’ll do whatever you all need me to do.”

I’m probably missing some items/people here but *shrugs* my grandma is in my house and she’s declined dramatically so… I’m likely not thinking straight, also Know it All should go and fuck themselves because life would be better for all involved if they did. (That was nicer than what I really wanted to say.)

Hell Yes to Working Vacations!

If you ask me how my vacation is going I will tell you AMAZING. If you follow that up with “Oh yeah, what have you guys been doing?” You will be surprised at my answer: SLEEPING, EATING, RELAXING…WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WANT.

For most people traveling to foreign countries is all about being a tourist; exploring, taking in the sites, sounds, and experiences of the regions. And,  don’t get me wrong we’re doing that too, but really we’re doing WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WANT. Which is mostly to sleep, take long baths, wake up when we’re ready and watch movies. (All of which we don’t have the privilege of doing often at home.)

And because we’re (AB and myself) serial mompreneurs with two auto repair shops and a business services start up, and I’m a writer with a new book floating around the world, we’re working many hours of each day on our businesses. But there’s something about employees having to figure shit out on their own without calling, texting, or slacking you every five seconds, that makes working remotely so much more FUN and Productive.

There’s something very powerful about being reachable but unreachable at the same time. About sleeping in and still waking up 6 hours before your employees. About decreasing the screening process for potential new employees and realizing that all of the time you spend vetting people over the phone is a waste of time. That removing yourself from the process and letting the manager find out that people are either qualified or unqualified or batshit crazy once the person shows up for the interview, is a much better use of everyone’s time. Especially yours.

So far I’ve been to Amsterdam, France, and Germany and I’ve enjoyed each place tremendously while still getting shit done so YES, HELLLLLL YES to working vacations. If it weren’t for the boy, I would think twice about returning home. I lie it’s cold I need to eventually go home but I’m going to be a changed entrepreneur when I get back.

Dear Cancer, You Missed A Spot.

Man… FUCK CANCER. In all caps.

Cancer can take all of the people we know and love. Can snatch mothers away from their children, children away from their parents, and plenty of our beloved celebrities but apparently Cheeto McFartface and his goons are immune.

My grandmother used to say “Don’t wish death on nobody.” and I don’t. Not really. I mean.. death is a part of life and apparently cancer is death’s bottom bitch, the one he sends in to seal the deal but apparently she’s myopic. She keeps killing the wrong damn people and imma need him to bring her back in and do some retraining. Cause CHARLIE MURPHY? Like really?

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America has an entire administration of movie star villains and Cancer could’ve taken any one of those idiots, likely saving millions of people in the process but Nah. When the roulette board of who to take today popped up on the screen death’s bottom bitch was like yeahhhh, let’s take that boy Charlie Murphy. Heaven needs more comedians.

Le sigh. I know he’ll rest in peace but I can’t help feeling like the scales of life and death are totally off balance right now.

Reasons I Didn’t Text You Back But You Saw Me On Facebook.

Frequently from “friends” I get the dreaded question “Why didn’t you text me back?” on one of my Facebook or other Social Media posts forcing me to respond “When?”

Because, I likely don’t remember the text and more than likely don’t care about it. Not because I really don’t care about it but because instead of that person texting me back to ensure that I received it they wait around for the right post to ask on the internet. LIKE THEY DON’T HAVE MY DAMN PHONE NUMBER. Which they obviously do because, “Why didn’t you text me back?” means that there was a first text. Right?

Sooooo anyways here are a few reasons why I didn’t text you back. Hopefully I don’t hurt your feelings but if I do feel free to A: Unfriend me. or B: Cash Me Ousside.

Reason #67

I received it while I was doing other things read it, and either started to respond and got interrupted before I could send it or was busy and forgot about it by the time I finished reading it. (This is 98% of the reasons why.)

Reason #28

It wasn’t about money. Honestly I’m busy AF. I have three businesses, a wife, a child, a blog, a book and a bunch of other shit to do.  I have to prioritize. If it ain’t about the money I can’t give it too much of my brain space.

Reason #1

You were asking me for something and it wasn’t life or death. AND someone is always asking me for something which to be quite honest; is tiring AF.

Reason #44

The internet is my JOB. Most things I do on the internet are about business so while I HAVE to be active on the internet I don’t HAVE to be active in text messages.

Reason #2

I just didn’t want to. For whatever reason, I didn’t want to text you back. 

Those reasons are in no particular order and there are probably more but whilst I type this employees are calling, AB is Slacking me, DJ is texting me, and I have other shit to do. Hope this helps. If not send a text or two.

 

Ups/Downs 3.17.17

Today was a shitty fucking day. Things happened with an ex employee that I’m probably not supposed to talk about on the Internet which is a whole fucking problem in and of itself but I can say that dude was a FUCKBOI. Caps fucking locked.

 For close to two months I’ve felt like he held me hostage and I tried my fucking damndest to be professional about the situation because, unlike some people who are very short sighted , I play the long game. So I played his fucking game. And he still did fuckboi shit and quit in the most unprofessional of ways. And then today he and his raggedy ass, bitch ass, raising fuckbois for fun ass mama continued to try to rain on my fucking parade. 

Being the fucking Girl Boss that I am I pretty much ended the situation but every second of dealing with that shit  ate at my soul. So it’s not surprising to me that when I finally sat down for the day, my anxiety slowly crept up to panic attack on the floor of my dark closet hoping that neither my wife nor my son asks me what’s wrong cause my answer would be: EVERYTHING.

But it’s not. My day was actually great. I ran the shop next to my wife while simultaneously handling business for our other business, my networking Chapter, and our home.

 Really, I’m proud of Adrien because I am her and I don’t even know how the fuck she does it. Oh and while she was doing all of that shit she managed to figure out a way for Kitchen Table Literary Arts Center to convert more of their 1200 friends into fans on their Facebook page before they shut down their Yvonne Frederick page before the FUCKBOI of a Facebook shuts them down. 

So why if my day was really great am I typing this while hunched under a fuzzy throw on the floor of my dark ass clothes closet? Because I let a raggedy ass FUCKBOI and his bitch ass mama get all the way up under my skin. That’s why. 
Here’s a pic of me in a car making a face at Fuckbois and their bitch ass mamas. 

On the real: Death to Fuckbois 🖕🏾<- *middle finger emoji*