BUS Tales!

Do you remember when you were a child- how people would tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?

They said that because they didn't want you to get hit by a car.

My motto:

"Look both ways before crossing the street. You don't want to get hit by a bus."

Or better yet...

"You don't want to get thrown under a bus."

If there is one thing I hate, it is getting thrown under the bus. This is a term used for when someone just puts you out there and embarrasses you. It could mean getting scapegoated, snitched upon, or volunteered for something that you didn't volunteer for...

You get my drift.

Now, on my job, I have been thrown under the bus so many times that I have permanent bus tire tracks across my face. It rarely phases me, but I still get pissed off about it from time to time.

My boss, The Darth Sista T, knows my response to this. I do the Celie two-fanger point and yell:
"Ya'll best get my money straight!"

... or "All ya'll can go sit on a TACK!"

Sista T groans hard, drags her hands down her face, and murmurs "LadyLee, you are so full of drama!"

*LadyLee scowling and backing out of her office, still pointing hard.*

Anyway... I have a couple of funny bus tales to share. One where I threw someone under the bus, and then they turned around and threw ME under the bus. We have been laughing quite hard about it at work. I wasn't mad, and didn't do what I usually do: turn in a leave slip, and take my ass home in protest.

But maybe you had to be there to find it funny... Any which way it goes, I wanted to blog about it.

So right now, I am working on this emergency crisis project at work, which I can't talk about here. Let's just say if you have been watching the news, you will no doubt have heard about it. When this type of thing happens, all of management is up in arms about it. My boss runs around nervous as a fat rat cornered by a gang of alley cats. I just do my job, make that overtime money, and hope it's all over quickly.

Now, for the past several weeks, I have driven to work on Thursdays because I have a writing class in the evenings. And there is no way that I was missing that class over some work-related ish. I don't care how "important" the work was. I made this known to management. As usual, they look at me like I'm smoking something...

But I mean what I say!

Hen-Dog happen to finish his work early one afternoon, while I was back in the lab printing out some results. He'd come in at 6:00 a.m. that morning, and was ECSTATIC about leaving at a decent hour, i.e., 3:30 p.m. I saw him in the cubicle area cheesing real hard, doing a hard fraternity step, he was so happy to actually be going home ON TIME, that he almost broke out breakdancing. I rolled my eyes, and just walked on past him.

Anyway, our lab director (I will call her the "Queen Sista"), came back into the lab to talk with me about some results. Some that were positive needed to move forward.

"Are you going to do it, LadyLee?"
"No. That's for the other instrument."
She stood their silently peering at the paperwork.
"Well let's get it on the other instrument."
"I don't do that. HEN-DOG does that."
"Where is he?"

Now I almost thought to do the right thing and tell her that he was gone. But... I didn't do that.

I blink hard. "He's at his desk."
"Alright," she answers. She immediately leaves the lab.

Hen comes back in the lab a couple of minutes later, looking shell-shocked.

"Man, I heard heels clicking down the hall, and then I heard heels on carpet. I thought 'That don't sound right.' It was the Queen Sista. She said I couldn't go home. I gotta get this done before I leave today."

*LadyLee cheesing hard and breaking out into chants of "Hen-Dog, you da MAN!"*

I followed him around making bus sounds. He was frowning hard, and made several obscene hand guestures during this time.

He ended up working four hours overtime. LOL!! He was NOT happy about that AT ALL.

But at the same time...

He had that look in his eye. He was looking for some payback!

Well, the next day, we had a meeting, a boring nationwide call about the project. We have at a couple a week. I listened to what was going on, took a few notes, and worked my beloved cryptograms. At the end of the meeting, we were all standing around talking about work progress. The Queen Sista says something bizarre.

"LadyLee, I don't think I have your phone number."

I just stared at her.

The issha with the Queen Sista: she likes to call people late at night and tell them what they need to be doing the next day. She likes to call and ask questions.

In other words... she likes to do some old crazy sh**! How the heck you gonna be calling people at night? I've heard that she will call as late as 10:30 p.m. Man, I am not THINKING about work at that time of night. Goodness.

She just stands there and stares at me when I don't answer. She even raises her eyebrows. (How sick is that!)

I rub my chin. "Uh, I don't have a phone, Queen Sista."

She didn't know what to do when I said that. I held her hard stare. Yeah, I know it was a lie. But I was NOT giving up my phone number. The hell with that!!

Hen-Dog chimes in. "I have her number, Queen Sista."

I stand there in awe. My breath is caught in my throat.

He whips out his cell phone. Queen Sista follows suit and whips out her cell phone.

He walks rapidly around the table over towards the Queen Sista.

"Come on Queen Sista, you ready?"
"Yes," she EAGERLY replies.
"678-555-1234. You got that."
She repeats it for him.
He smiles at me and nods slowly.
I squint HARD at him.

Shorty threw me under the bus. DANG!

To add insult to injury, she made us follow her over to her office, and she put my number in her blackberry. Hen-Dog was standing there, making sure she got the number right.

"Now LadyLee," Queen Sista said. "When I call, and you see my area code XXX, you know that's me."

Hen-Dog was standing there, cheesing down.

Humph. Gotta get that boy back soon.

But it's all good... because now? We're even.

But are we?

Hmmm.

Food for thought, Part IV

Those who know me well know that I can't sit still for long...

Especially in situations where I have to pay close attention to what's going on. I always do two or three things at a time.

For some reason, I listen better when I do that.

I have the attention span of a flea, you see.

When my boss calls to let me know there's a meeting of some sort, I let her know that I will be there, but I must first gather my "materials".

She sighs HARD every time. Even lets out a long exasperated groan.

She knows I'm not referring to work-related "materials"... It usually means my laptop (which really pisses her off), a good book, my story idea journal, or my beloved cryptogram puzzles.

The Infamous Hen-Dog taught me how to work cryptogram puzzles a couple of years ago. These are always good puzzles because I can print out free lists from different places all over the internet.

So while my bosses think that I am sitting in a meeting taking notes at a feverish pace...

I am really working cryptograms...

I like cryptograms a lot. They keep my mind active (and make the meetings go by MUCH faster). Every once in a while, I come across a quote that stays on my mind and in my heart for a long time.

I found a good one a couple of weeks ago. Want to see it? Well here it is:

"It takes more courage to reveal insecurities than to hide them, more strength to relate to people than to dominate them, more manhood [or womanhood] to abide by thought-out principles rather than blind reflex. Toughness is in the soul and spirit, not in muscles and an immature mind"- Alex Harras.

First of all... who the heck is Alex Harras? Never heard of him. Maybe I solved that part of the puzzle wrong. Who knows.

Anyhow, that quote made me thing about myself and the people I choose to surround myself with. I see that in the past few years, I've changed a lot. I prefer to surround myself with people who are working on becoming better people.

I think that quote gets the real gist of the real definition of true strength, courage, and maturity.

You're not hardcore just because you can dominate people...

You're don't have it all together just because you are real good at putting on a good front for people...

Your true character shows up when no one is looking or judging. And we all have areas where we have a lot of growing up to do...

Well, at least I do.

Oscar Tyrone Tales

Oscar likes to hang out on the beams that are over my living room...

There's nothing worse than sitting in the living room and getting the feeling that someone or something is... watching... you.

These days, whenever my boss The Darth Sista T, runs up on me, harrassing me about some work-related craziness, I give her the Celie crooked two-fanger point. Then I point at the picture below, which happens to be the background picture on my desktop.

Sista T! You got me feeling like THIS!!

*Lee, eyes all spacy, slightly downturned lips, pointing hard at compuuter*

Man, leave me alone! LOL!!

I have beams over my living room, and sometimes I catch Oscar-Tyrone out on those beams, staring down at me. Every once and a while, I catch a few pictures of him standing out there.

When he first started jumping out on the beams, my sister and I would stand under them and fret. Oscar-Tyrone ate up the attention.

But we figured out that was all he wanted: attention.

So now, we just ignore him. When he figures this out, he comes down all by himself...

Go figure.

There's a lesson in that somewhere...

Daddy CREEEEEE!!!!!

LadyTee and I don't argue much, but when we do, it's over the same thing each and every time:

DADDY CRE, and whose father he is.

"Daddy Cre is my Daddy," Ladytee hollers.
"Nawl, LadyTee... that's MY Daddy!"
"That's my damn Daddy!!" She steps up on me like she gonna hit me.
"Hell nawl, I said that's MY Daddy!!"

I bust her in the eye with my fist. She falls to the ground. Conversation OVER.

(Why am I so violent? LOL)

No, "Daddy Cre" is not either one of our Daddys. LadyTee and I don't have relationships with our respective fathers, but we have claimed my friend and work cubicle mate Cowgirl Cre's Daddy as OUR Daddy.

No, he's not our Daddy. He's our friendly neighborhood auto mechanic.

And whenever our cars break down, we end up calling him, our eyes full of tears, crying...

"Daddy Cre...(hard gulp of air)... Daddy Cre (hard sniff, hand to face wiping away crocodile tears)... Daddy Cre, my car messed up on me!!!"

He is always quiet for a moment. I've always thought he was thinking "I'm sitting here trying to enjoy my retirement. Why the heck are ya'll bothering me?"

But he always comes back with a "Well alright now, tell me what happened" or "Can you get the car over here so I can have a look at it?"

*LadyLee and/or Ladytee's tears drying up because they realize there is... hope*

LadyTee drives an Old Buick, and refuses to go anywhere but to Daddy Cre for help. If she can't catch up with him, she is quick to call Cowgirl Cre or myself up at our job and scream...

"Where is our Daddy! I need to talk to our Daddy!"

I was muttering that to myself this past Saturday...

My car had been making a weird ringing noise for about 2 weeks. Sounded like someone is jingling a bunch of bells or something. Heck, it was driving just fine, so I kept rolling. But last Thursday, it started skipping, sounding like The DJ Diva herself was trying to do some type of new hip-hop transformer scratches on her turntables. I thought a belt was loose, and was about to pop.

I've been working a lot, and I don't really drive during the week. So Saturday, I called MY Daddy, Daddy Cre, and wailed hard about it...

"Felicia, brang the car on over, so I can have a look at it."

(Note: He calls me Felicia, and has called me that for years. Heck, I roll with it, and it rhymes with my name so that's good enough for me. I'm just happy to get my car fixed.)

So, my "zoom-zoom" was jacked up in his driveway on Saturday.

Now, while he was outside jacking up my car, I went inside and hung out with Cowgirl Cre's Mama, "Mama Cre". She's usually relaxing on the sofa and watching a little television. I sat with her for a little while and watched some bizarre movie on Lifetime (Television for Women!) about some chick who would take razors and cut herself (eww! gruesome!). We shoot the breeze and what not. I have even been know to take a nap or eat dinner. This time, we shared cookies and watched the movie.

Now, I like Mama Cre. I look forward to sitting back and talking with her just as much as I look forward to getting my car fixed. She is very quiet like myself, but she has warmed up to me, and she is one hell of a talker.

Daddy Cre is crazy about Mama Cre. I knew this when, one day last year, I was walking past Daddy Cre's rimmed up New Yorker and saw the vanity plate on the front.

Now if that ain't love, I don't know what is. But Mama Cre don't look too happy there. I've been meaning to ask her about that picture. As you can see by his winning smile, and the slight tilt of his cap... Daddy Cre is very proud of it!!

Anyway, Daddy Cre figured out part of the problem: a screw had come loose from somewhere inside my engine and was floating around in one of the rotating parts, making a crazy pinging sound. He showed me the chewed-up screw. He was quite concerned and scratched his head. He needed to figure out where that screw came from.

Oh my!

Daddy Cre needed to keep my car until Sunday. I told him that he could keep it all week as far as I was concerned, as I am chaufeurred by my personal chauffeur carpool to and from work every day.

I needed to know if I need a new engine or if everything is fine. That there was my major concern. ~sigh~

But, all is well. Now, one of the great things that Daddy Cre does is bring your car TO you when he finishes any repairs. So he deliverred my car to me on Monday afternoon. He put everything together and my beloved "zoom-zoom" purs like a cat. He said he had to run around to the junkyard for some parts, but he figured it all out.

And this Oldgirl is very happy about THAT!! GLORY!!

Daddy Cre is one of those Daddys that don't let you get away too fast without a long lecture or gentle chastisement... I have been lectured several times per year over the past seven or eight years.

First, he wanted to get the point across that when there is something going wrong with my Zoom-zoom (Mazda), I need to bring it by immediately. I always respond, "Yes sir, you are right". He knows I have a tendency to wait until I can't roll any longer, right up until I almost have to push my car over to his house, LOL.

I always ask him how much he is charging me for the work... This brings about another Loooonnnng lecture.

I have to sit and hear how I am Cowgirl's Cre friend, and how he is fair and won't charge me much. (As a result, I always get the good 15 dollar brake jobs). And then he gives me a LOOOONNNG sermon on how good it is to be a blessing to someone. He will never help me, and then want something in return. God has blessed him so he could bless someone else. It's just a blessing to be able to figure out what is wrong with my car. I just need to make sure to take the time to bless someone else. He feels that I've already been a blessing by being his daughter's friend.

Bless, bless, bless, blesssss, bless, blesssssss...

The blessing sermon goes on for a good 5 to 10 minutes. Sometimes he points in different directions to make his point. He has walked away at times, to go do something, then comes back and picks up right where he left off.

The only thing I do during the long lectures is utter "Yes Sir" and "No Sir, "I understand Sir", "That's right, Sir" a gazillion times. When the lecture is over, he sends me on my way.

But I ain't mad. I need to hear this ever so often, more often than not, as it does encourage me to be a blessing to others, even if it is in the small way. He encourages me to always be thinking along those lines in my dealings with people.

So thank you Daddy Cre...

You always keep my "Zoom-Zoom riding nice" for just the right price!!

And always give me the much needed good lessons on the being a blessing:)

SnAke BiTEs: "I Didn't Plan"

I Didn't PLAN

When I was growing up
I lived day to day.
The future wasn't my skeelo.

As I got older,
A whole lot bolder,
I got caught up
And life got colder.

So one thing about my bite?
You will know that I told you:

I didn't PLAN on failing,
I failed on PLANNING.

So bite back!
Cause you can have the world!
(That's if you want it.)

Don't let circumstances stop you!
Opportunities will rock you!
Chances are if you plan
You will understand:
The purpose of life.

And as you read the bites, from the Snake
Some will let you know what road to take.