Jacks, Part II

My post a couple of days ago about the game of jacks garnered a lot of attention at work.

So much attention that one of my bootleg manuscript editors Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia brought in a set of jacks that her daughter had gotten as a party favor at a birthday party...

That sure was nice of Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia...

As you can imagine, this caused a slight frenzy amongst the female chemists...

Can you imagine grown women clearing out a space on the floor and playing jacks?

I would not have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself...

I even got a few pictures of my other bootleg manuscript editor, Sunshine, working it out...





Damn Sunshine... you're on the floor in your lab coat... I'm so glad management didn't walk by. We would've scattered like cockroaches and left your butt sitting there...

Looking like a dang fool...

But like I said, you were working out, oldgirl!

She did the darn thing! Picking up six big jacks at a time!

I tried to play, but sorry, I need the old time jacks, those little metal ones. These jacks were twice the size of the jacks from the 70's and 80's. And I swear, the ball here was twice the size of a normal ball...

And it amazed me that a couple of ladies didn't even know about the game of Jacks. Groove, up in Nova Scotia, didn't know about jacks. She said in my comment section that she'd seen them on TV, but never played. (Yikes... the horror!) Maybe it was just an USA game, I don't know.

But I talked to one of my manuscript critiquers and coworkers, Melissa. She had never heard of jacks. And she's from Alabama...

Damn. I went off on her... Wasn't her fault... I just got pissed, that's all...

Then another co-worker, Yo-Yo, said she use to use rocks instead of jacks in her games.

Damn. Ain't nobody that poor. That sound like some old craziness left over from slavery...

But anyway... we are on a quest for some REAL jacks... the little metal ones...

Not that ol' plastic ish... You've got to be kidding me!

And we're gonna sit around and teach Melissa how to play...

Groove, wish you were here, 'cause we'd hook you up too, homegirl!!!

Really though...

Rest in Peace, Jeremy Girard Dorsey a.k.a. "Jay" a.k.a. "Jason" a.k.a. "Lil' Head".. September 1996- November 29, 2005

I fell asleep on the sofa last night. I'd been working on Chapter 24 of my manuscript (after being threatened by one of my bootleg editors), watching Monday night football, and listening to the sounds of Miki Howard and Cherelle playing softly on my laptop computer...

I don't even remember going to sleep.

I woke up around 5:13 a.m., and felt like I had to go to the bathroom...

I tried to go in the bathroom from the hallway door but couldn't open it. I forgot that Jeremy, my 9-year-old orange tomcat, had taken to laying in the middle of the bathroom floor for the past couple of days.

"Jeremy, would you move?" I said with a sigh.

He usually growls loudly as a protest, but he usually gets up and moves out of the way.

This time, he didn't move.

I walked into my master bedroom to enter my bathroom through the spacesaver door that leads from the bedroom to the bathroom...

I turned on the light, but I didn't go in. Jeremy was laid out on the floor. He's about 2 and 1/2 feet long, so he was completely stretched out, mouth open with a yellow liquid coming out.

"Jeremy?" I called. I leaned down and looked at him.

No response. He wasn't moving.

"Jeremy, get up!" I yelled. "Please get up, boy!"

He didn't move.

I realized that he had died.

I looked at him and all around me for a few minutes not realizing what to do.

I went upstairs to my sister Kay's bedroom and lightly knocked on her door.

"Kay, Jeremy died sometime last night," I said quietly.

And then came the tears. "At least he's not suffering anymore, Lisa," she consoled.

It hurt so bad. She hugged me and told me that it was going to be alright.

"Do me a favor," I said. "Call Auntie for me." My Auntie has roughly nine cats, and has had to bury some over the years. (She'd just buried a brown tabby, Tigee, on Saturday-- Sorry for your loss, Auntie). I have never had to clean up a deceased animal, and I knew she would know what to do.

I walked back downstairs while Kay called Auntie. Kay gave me her cell phone. Auntie told me to find a box, line it with a towel, and put him in there. Then tape up the box and bury it in the backyard. I nodded and said "okay" through my tears, and gave the phone back to Kay.

I'd recently moved, so we had a few boxes out in the garage. I got one, line it with a big plastic bag, and then Kay and I picked Jeremy up and put him in the box. We wrapped him in the towels, and placed the box in a plastic bag. I put the box in the garage.

I think I will try to bury him before the weekend.

Jeremy had been sick for awhile. I took him to the vet back in September. Blood tests and X-rays showed that, although he was overweight (Jeremy weighed a hefty 21 pounds), he was pretty healthy (no diabetes, etc.). They kept in a hospital for a few days. Since they couldn't find anything wrong with him, I decided to bring him home so if he did die, he would die at home.

Once we moved, he seem alright for the month of October and part of November. He was running around the house, playing and fighting as usual with my other cat, Oscar Tyrone. I figured since he could run up and down the steps with ease, he must've been alright.

But he wasn't...

Approximately two to three weeks ago, he became lethargic and stopped eating. He would only sleep, and began vomiting a little. Then he stopped grooming himself, and began to smell a little. So I would dilute a little alcohol with water every few days and rub him down to freshen him up.

I didn't think Jeremy would be around much longer. He wasn't his usual grumpy self. He was just very very quiet.

On Sunday, he started acting real strange... Doing weird stuff like laying on the floor in the middle of the bathroom, or just sitting in a corner with his face to the wall. I knew he hadn't eaten much all week, but for some reason he would eat a little chopped up Thanksgiving turkey or macaroni and cheese. But he wouldn't eat anything on Monday morning. As a matter of fact, I hadn't seen him since then.

I didn't see him again until this morning... laid out on the bathroom floor.

So this post is a farewell to my beloved Jeremy Girard Dorsey, a.k.a. "Jay", a.k.a., "Jason", a.k.a. "Lil' Head"...

I had him for 9 years, every since I was in graduate school, living in Grant Park. I got him from my lil' brother Da'Kari, who was nine years old at the time. He thought that Jeremy could help with a mice problem I was having. Jeremy has lived all over Atlanta with me, and has even lived with me in New Orleans for a couple of years...

Jeremy is even the reason I stopped smoking weed. (Thank goodness for that!)

I've always looked at Jeremy and said "Damn boy... if you could talk, you would have a WHOLE lot of stories to tell about Oldgirl Ladylee :)"

So rest in peace "Lil' Head"! I will always remember you!

Ladylee

Remembering Days of Old... Jacks!!!!

How ya'll like the new "photo" that I added to my blog profile a couple of days ago???

I saw this little girl the Friday after Thanksgiving... Cowgirl Cre, The Infamous Hen-Dog, and I were sitting around at work watching SchoolHouse Rock (all 46 snippets) on my laptop computer. (Yeah, I know, we should have been working... I got a little work done, but I was a lazy ass, too; But it was all worth it to see the Infamous Hen-Dog doing the running man, the Omega Psi Phi stomp, or whatever that little jig was he was working on, to "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly Get your Adverbs Here!" LMAO...HILARIOUS)...

But anyway...This little black girl was a part of the "I Got Six" SchoolHouse Rock snippet...


Cowgirl Cre and I, who had been swaying HARD from side to side, and sanging real HARD to the other snippets didn't recognize the "I Got Six" snippet... (Imagine us sitting there, all quiet, squinting real hard at the laptop...)



Well, we saw this little girl... she was smiling hard counting eggs and placing them in cartoons. Then the eggs hatched, and she started counting little chicks...

Then later on, she started playing jacks!

Cowgirl Cre and I screamed at the same time...

JACKS!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, I use to be DOWN for some jacks when I was little. You oldgirls (and some of you oldboys) who are between the ages of thirty and forty-something know EXACTLY what I'm talkin' about. Talk about hours of fun...

And if you had the colorful jacks and the colorful ball??


Oh Lawd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now that was a real game. Bump this playstation sh*t..... Jacks was the bomb back in the day...



My friends and I would get into HEATED arguments if any one of us picked up them jacks the wrong way... And you were Baaadddd if you could pick up over 15 jacks and then catch that ball after one bounce...

Dayum!! And I use to cheese just as hard as this little girl if I won a game...


So that picture takes me back to a time when I would sit on the floor in the middle of the kitchen or on the floor at school (shoot, any smooth level surface would do...) and play jacks...

For hours at a time...

Today's girls don't know what they're missing.

And the sad thing is that I don't even know where to buy jacks...

Hey, maybe they got it for Xbox 360 or Playstation 2!!

(Yeah Right...)

**GRADUATION DAY**

"The ceremony will begin in approximately one minute."

That's when I began to tear up. I was so happy that I would soon see my little brother Da'Kari!

It's been five months since I last saw him. I spent a couple of hours with him before he had to ship out from Fort Gilliem in Forest Park, GA back on June 29. I cried even then on my way to see him ship out. I cried when he got on the bus. And I cried all the way back to work.

I've been a crying fool! He was my main running buddy, so I've been missing him something awful...

He's been in basic training down at Fort Benning in Columbus Georgia since June 29. It's one and a half hours from my home. The drive was horrendous, since it stormed something terrible during most of my drive.

I cried a little more when he marched out. He doesn't even look the same. Not an ounce of baby fat. No facial hair (save for his thick eyebrows!). He's grown a couple of inches. I almost didn't recognize him!

It was such a good feeling to get a big hug from him, and just to see that he was alright. He should have graduated way back in mid-September, but was sidelined with a knee injury. So he had to repeat basic training.



He was part of a demonstration where he came out dressed in full camouflage gear and carrying a grenade launcher. I found that to be a bit scary! LOL!

But overall, he was so happy, and he had some crazy basic training stories to tell... He's so freakin' polite now. Everything is "Yes ma'am" or "Yes Sir". It took him a while, but he eventually started calling me "Shawty!" again!


I was so proud of him! I can honestly say that I am so glad that we went ahead and did what he wanted to do: join the army.





He is in Baltimore, Maryland for 3 months on his regular training.

So congratulations lil' boy!!! And continued success up in B-More, Maryland...

I'll get up with you on your Christmas break!

I Miss My Saturday Morning Cartoons, Part VI

Scooby-Dooby Doo...
Where are you?... We've got some work to do now!...

Hey Scooby!!!!...

You know what? I wasn't the biggest fan of this show. It was one of those cartoons where I would look at it, but only because I was waiting for something more interesting to come on. And then, there came a time where the re-runs of Scooby-Doo were nonstop...

It got to the point that if I had to hear Shaggy yell "Zoinks" one more time, I was going to throw the T.V. through the wall...

Scooby Doo was basically about a crew of friends (Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, and the Great Dane (whatever he was) Scooby-Doo running around solving mysteries concerning some crazy ghost or monster wreaking havoc on a dark, scary, goofy looking island.... The premise was always the same: There was never any monster, but always some greedy dude or female trying to scare people away from some shady mess...

But like I said earlier, I wasn't fond of the show. I would look at it, but it was mostly chewing gum for the brain for me. Several things use to bother me:

1. First of all, how did these teens get involved in crime solving? Especially with scary ass Shaggy tagging along. I think I would have liked the show a lot if they would have ditched his butt.

2. And why did they always have to split up and go search for clues?(I bet you know where I'm going with this). When they did split up, Fred and Daphne went one way and Velma was left with Shaggy and Scooby... Hmmm....



3. What was up with those 6 foot tall sandwiches?

4. And my biggest pet peeve... Something that really unsettled me....


Why the hell was Shaggy always jumping so hard for a damn Scooby Snack? Aren't those Dog biscuits?

I did like one thing about the show... The Mystery Machine. I was going to buy one when I grew up....

I haven't gotten around to that yet...

And maybe I'm imagining things, but it seems like '90's track star Michael Johnson completely jacked Velma's running style...

The ending to every show was the same... The villian would say, after his or her plan had been foiled..."And I would've done it, too, if it wasn't for you meddling kids and that pesky dog!!"

Scooby-Doo and the gang aren't my favorites, but I'd rather look at them on a Saturday morning instead of three hours of Atlanta news...

Writing Progress- Chapters 20-23... "You Bougi bougi broads"

This post goes out to my two bootleg "Work-for-free" editors... Ol' mean ass Cynthia and Sunshine...

And to the rest of my manuscript critiquers... Cowgirl Cre, Meek-Meek, Tisha, Cotena, Gigi, Melissa, Darth Sista T, The Good Sister, Regina... and I can't forget my only male critiquer... the Infamous Hen-Dog...

About 2.5 weeks ago, something scary happened....

Ol' mean Ass Cynthia walked up on me while I was in my cubicle doing some paperwork...

She scared the hell out of me. She's real quiet-like... She doesn't walk, but she glides. You know, like in those Spike Lee movies. I turned around and she was giving me the evil eye...

"Ladylee, where are my chapters?" she asked.
I trembled under her terrifying stare. "Uh, you know how it is, Ol Mean Ass Cynthia. I haven't been working on anything. I just moved and I'm trying to get situated. You know how it is... I'm sorry..."
"You're right... you sure are sorry." Ol' mean ass Cynthia glided away back to her cubicle....

Dang... Didn't care for her verbal chin check, but I decided to try and get in gear... Ol' Mean Ass Cynthia sure is mean. Sunshine was a little whiny, too...

I was getting evil looks from all of my critiquers... Even a couple of drive-by emails from a few folks...

I figured I best get back on my writing schedule, since the peasants are begging for more! (LOL)

Well, I finished Chapter 20 back in September... Everyone seem to like it...

When I FINALLY purchased my new home, I went out and bought a laptop computer...

Oh my, oh my, oh my... It's amazing how much I can get done now!!!

Chapters 21-23 were completed within the last 2 weeks...

All total... approximately 24, 000 words... I am a bit long winded, you see...

I asked author Cydney Rax for a little advice about my long windedness (the total for chapters 1-23 is approximately 110,000 words and I'm maybe 2/3 to 3/4 of the way finished). She thought that this may be two books instead of one...

Oh my! The horror... I must edit, edit, edit. (Thanks Cydney for the advice!)

Anyway, there are usually some blowout discussions after each chapter is released...

Everyone seem pretty happy with the chapters overall. I got a hand clap from The Good Sister, a co-supervisor. Even my supervisor, Darth Sista T, said that she could tell that my writing had improved tremendously...

Kill the compliments, Darth Sista T... show me, Ladylee, how you feel about my writing... Give me a couple of days off. Give me a cash award. Better yet, sign me up for a 6 month Hawaiian sabbatical so I can have time to write...

Yeah, Darth Sista, it took you long enough to read it... I had to hit you with the Color Purple Celie "two-finger point" a couple of times.

But I had to go off on some of my critiquers yesterday...

Always whining and complaining about something...

"You Bougi, bougi broads!"

Back in chapter 14, my character Ms. Vaughn wanted another character, Samuel to stay for the night... There was a line... something to the affect of "Please, Samuel, please stay-"

My critiquers got a little pissed about that one...

"I've never begged a man to stay!" my critiquers whined...
"I have," I confessed.
They suck their teeth...
I shake my head. "You bougi ass broads need to stop lying!"

Another scenario...

"I've never put on a man's shirt when he wasn't around and enjoyed the smell of his scent or cologne on his shirt," my critiquers whine...
"I have,"I confessed.
They look at me like I'm half crazy.
I laugh aloud. "You bougi bougi broads need to stop lying!!"

Finally, the scenario that made me almost pass out...

"Ladylee, we've never gotten caught up in the moment and forgot the condom..."
"I HAVE!" I yelled.
A couple of them had that look of guilt on their faces, yet they still tried to play it off...
I jumped to my feet and hit them with the two-finger crooked Celie point...
"Ya'll some bougi bougi broads!!!!!!!"

You sisters, my beloved critiquers... you amaze me... You have your Ph.D.'s and your Masters degrees... You all are such wonderful scientists... So knowledgable in what you do...

But ya'll need to stop lying!!!! You KNOW you use to do some of the stuff I write about (and probably still do it). Take it back to when you were in college... You know, like I know, that we use to get over into some craziness concerning our men... Mess we wouldn't do now that we are older and wiser. (I bet some of ya'll are undercover, though...)

We asked the Infamous Hen-Dog, my only male reader, if a woman has ever begged him to stay...

"Of course," he said with a shrug.... So funny... all of these bougi broads got a major attitude!!

Cotena, my favorite Atlanta traffic engineer, was the only one who admitted to relating to what's going on... She told me to tell you all... and I quote... "tell them hoes to stop frontin'!! "

Get your noses out the air! If it were raining outside, all of ya'll would drown!!!

But, hey, I ain't mad at you... Perpertrate if you must...

I've got nothing but love for ya'll... Nothin' but love...

Really, though....

Thanks for your critiques... And chapter 24 will be to you, hot off the printers, in two weeks...

My Favorite "Homemade Tape"...

(*special dedication to that music buff, DJ Diva... I know you know where I'm coming from)

Last month, while packing to move, I came across a box of homemade cassette tapes. It reminded me of my "Wanna-be Bootleg DJ" days in high school, where I was the girl who had the double cassette boombox, and I sold tapes for two bucks a piece....

I laughed at the memories as I went through that box of old homemade tapes. I tossed most of the tapes out, being that I hadn't looked in that box in at least five years.

But there was one tape in particular that I kept, one of my favorites... I must have made this tape at least eight to ten years ago...

A tape full of Mary J. Blige songs.

I love Mary J. Blige. Most likely because we're the same age, and she was always wailing and crying about something I could relate to. She was so full of angst. But I must admit, I'm not her biggest fan right now. Her last album was a bunch of B.S. (That's just my opinion now.) I didn't even buy it.

Her new song is in heavy rotation on the radio. It's a nice song, but...

I like the old Mary J. Blige!

You know, the Mary J. Blige of the early 1990's... The Mary J. Blige that was a hard alcoholic, smoking weed, and doing coke... That Mary J. Blige....

Now don't get me wrong... I'm glad the sister got herself together... She stopped abusing drugs, stopped drinking, started dealing with a better class of people, settled down and married that light-eyed dude...

But I just remember her first two albums (you can tell I'm getting old with the "albums" lingo, right?): What's the 411? and My Life.


What's the 411? was one of the best things since dirt and water. A damn masterpiece, it was. That was at a time when, if I broke the cassette tape, I would immediately go out and get another copy. I must've bought 3 copies of the What's the 411 tape...

Mary J. Blige also got down with the remix album of What's the 411. And let's not even talk about My Life. That's the album where she was strung all out and depressed over K-Ci of the group Jodeci...

(Now, I thought K-Ci could sing his ass off... but come on Mary J., you gotta be embarrassed. Oldboy had you all messed up in the head... You've got to be kidding me...)



The first time I heard My Life, I cried like a baby... I don't know what the heck I was going through at the time, but it affected me just that much...

I liked Share My World. And once I listened to the CD entitled Mary umpteen times, I began to appreciate it... I didn't even buy her last two albums...

But What's the 411? and My Life are classics! (Look at the doggone CD covers... she looked like she was either hardcore or going through some craziness). Will she ever top those albums?... Who knows...

Now back to that homemade tape. I listen to this tape everyday: when I'm getting ready for work, when I'm writing, when I'm unpacking, when I'm cleaning up, when I'm yakking on the phone...

It brings back so many memories... Remember these?...

Side 1:

1. Reminisce
2. My Love
3. Love No Limit
4. Changes I've Been Going Through
5. Real Love
6. You Don't Have to Worry
7. Reminesce (Remix)
8. I'm the Only Woman
9. No One Else
10. A Dream

Side 2:

1. I Don't Wanna Do Anything Else
2. Happy
3. My Life
4. Never Wanna Live Without You
5. Share My World
6. Seven Days
7. Keep you Head to the Sky
8. Get to Know You Better
9. Searching
10. You Use to Love Me (What the... That's not Mary, that's Faith... where that come from!)

Doggonit, I wish that Mary could come back hard with her next album....

Make me cry again, Mary!!

Hey, does anyone know where K-Ci is? Maybe Mary needs a little inspiration!!

"The Biggest Decisions Are Made Between the Hours of Midnight and 4:00 a.m..."

(*Dedicated to the two co-workers who explained to me in depth what the title of this post means... you know who you are!!)

I don't usually rant about work... I've skirted the issues I've had with incompetent management on the sly in this blog, and my supervisor, Darth Sista T, is a good supervisor. I don't have any serious problems with her...

Now Darth Sista T, you know my favorite saying...

"Ya'll best have my money in the bank every other Friday or I'm gonna turn some stuff over up in here!!!!!"

Basically, all of management can go sit on a tack. (This is my politically correct way of saying that they can kiss my ass).

As long as I get my bread...

whatever...

...but there is some B.S. going on in my workplace that has me, I don't know, scratching my head...

We have that favoritism thang going on on the job. With few exceptions, the people who kiss the most ass tend to get the promotions. Me? I don't kiss ass. (When you start manufacturing the air I breathe, then maybe we can talk... But until then... Go sit on a tack...)

I know, favoritism occurs on every job. There are managers that don't speak to me because I won't get on my knees and kiss or blow... I don't have to do such things. Like I tell Darth Sista T sometimes...

"I, Ladylee, am brilliant..."

In my opinion, only terribly insecure people, who are unsure of their knowledge, do such things.

But something peculiar is going on... And a couple of wise co-workers (you know, those co-workers who have been on the job for umpteen years and who can usually be counted on to accurately predict what's going down) spoke the following words out of the depths of their wisdom and knowledge...

"The Biggest Decisions are made Between the Hours of midnight and 4:00 a.m."

Hmm... I thought to myself. Between the hours of midnight and 4:00 a.m., people are sleeping...

Hmm... either that or....

Twerkin' it out.

"Oh my," I exclaimed. "That explains everything!!

"Twerkin' it out." You know, getting your freak on, screwing, getting that ass tapped... I can go on and on...

But you know what I mean...

The situation at work: Two upper level managers are "twerkin' it out". (And to keep it as generic as possible, let's just call them "Oldgirl" and "Oldboy"). And what's so funny is that they are not even hiding it. Co-workers have spotted them together here and there. And I hear tell that they go walking up and down Peachtree Street hand in hand.

How cute.

The female manager, Oldgirl, is the big boss hog, and heads up the whole Science department. Oldboy was just a mere supervisor. He started dating Oldgirl, and lo and behold, he got a promotion.

Big problem. Oldgirl was in charge of who got the promotion. She picked Oldboy... ('Scuse me... can I get an ethics in government handbook over here??) Other applicants for that important position complained to headquarters. The application process started all over again.

Again, Oldboy got the job... (Geeezzz... where is that ethics handbook?)

All Lab employees were called into a big meeting... (I didn't attend the meeting... I asked Darth Sista T if they were giving out money or if it had anything to do with me getting my check every other Friday. As usual, she frowned up at me and walked away... which meant I wasn't gonna show up.) But the hiring of Oldboy was the subject (on the sly). Basically upper-UPPER level management told everybody if they didn't like it, then tough titty!!

Man, I thought, it's like Oldboy is in the bedroom giving out directions in mid-stroke...

I...[stroke]...Need...[pump]... a promotion [breast rub]...

Okay, whatever... I knew a couple of the well qualified applicants who had applied for the job and I wanted to run up on them and smack them in the back of their heads. This all has to be highly unethical... They should have complained more, filed some grievances, filed with EEO, turned over a few desks, called the news stations, had a sit-in...

...they should have done SOMETHING more!!!!

Oh well... Oldboy speaks to me frequently. I usually don't pay much attention to what he says... On an occasion after all of this happened, I just looked at him, trying not to laugh, and thought "Dang playa, you twerked it out and got a promotion!!"

Fast forward to March of this year. Oldboy, who happens to always cheese in my face when he sees me, decides he wants to snatch one of my chemical instruments for his lab section. Darth Sista T was a little distraught and exasperated. Me? I'm just standing around thinking...

"Dang, Oldboy is the Original Player. Dude is twerkin' somethin' !"

Kind of like a little something was going on the night before...

between the oh so critical hours of midnight and 4:00 a.m....

"Honey...[stroke]...I...[kiss]...need...[stroke]...an instrument...[double stroke]!!

Take the damn instrument. As long as I don't have to fix it when it breaks down, or something, who cares. (This is management's problem with me: they try to railroad me, because I am knowledgable, into doing double work... at which time I have a hissy fit/temper tantrum... enough so that they think I am crazy in the head, and leave me alone...)

My biggest concern, you see, is...

"My paycheck best be in the bank on Friday!"

And personally, I don't think I should have to do any more than a typical government employee, i.e., I should have the right to sit on my ass like those people who kiss ass!!

So they take the instrument. I do my best to not be the "Evil Ladylee" that I am rumored to be (due to the fact that I don't get on my knees and kiss ass or blow), and help them dismantle it and move it to another building. Over the past few months, if they need tools, ferrules, column nuts, etc... or if they need me to come over and correct an error, just dial my extension...

"Ya'll call me if ya'll need some help now. Remember, call me up if you have questions, need tools...anything... call me!! I got nothin' but love for ya'll. I'll holla!!!"

I get along pretty well with the employees in that group. I inquired about doing a 90 day work detail in that group, but one of the employees let me know, jokingly yet seriously, that I would have to dye my hair blond to get in over there. "Oldboy likes blondes!!" That's not gonna happen. Plus, there's only one black person in there group. (Hmph... I'm a chocolate sister. I don't even pass the paper bag test. I don't have to say anything else. I decided against applying for the detail...) Plus a wonderfully intelligent Asian oldgirl, a great colleague who I could talk good science with, who has since left the job, told me that Oldboy treated her like she was subhuman.

And you know, LadyLee's not going for that... My Grandaddy told me long time ago that my Grandma didn't get down on her knees scrubbing white people's floors for $3.00 per day so that I'd be looking ass crazy...

But I digress...

Anyway, they (those group members) are knowledgable people. (I have a tendency to dodge ignorant folks...which means, I dodge management quite often). I don't hesitate to help them out either... I've stopped what I was doing several times and taken the little 2 minute walk to the other building and helped them out...

Oldboy's stroke action had gotten me involved in a big project (one that was supposedly negotiated away with the instrument-- Glory!! I was happy about that!) that I was involved in previously when I had that instrument in my lab. (Oldboy's stroke action is too fierce!). My supervisor Darth Sista T set things up so that I could train someone in that group, then get the hell on. She got me out of getting caught up with having to do double work...

Good looking out, Darth Sista T. You are quite the witty gal! Plus, I bet you knew I was gonna disappear and take, I don't know, maybe a month of sick leave if you got me caught up with that foolishness, didn't you???

Well, I lovingly trained the person I was suppose to train. This didn't bother me much because I love to teach the tricks of the trade concerning this particular instrument....

Fast forward... Present day, late October, early November... Darth Sista T calls me into her office. (As usual, I take my time getting there because I'm trying to figure out WTF I did wrong that day...)

She's sitting there looking all exasperated...

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.
"They want another instrument."

I laughed. "Darth Sista, I told you, Oldboy is twerkin' it out...Dude is gonna take quite a few instruments out of our lab. Nothing like good twerk action.."

His stroke must be the bomb!!

Honey...[stroke]... one instrument is not good enough...[poke]... I... need [breast grab]...another...[triple stroke]... one... Call those people down in that lab [stroke] and get me some more equipment...[scream] orgasm follows...

She doesn't find it funny... She just shakes her head...

"And another thing...," Darth Sista continued, "they say we gave them a bad instrument..."

Now THAT's when I got pissed. All this damn unethical crap going on around on this good Gub'ment job, and someone is accusing us... no, ME... of being vindictive and sending over a bad instrument.

These folks were messing with my integrity...

I was ready go cuss some folks out... I,"Evil Ladylee", was ready to verbally chin check a few folks...

But I have a "72 hour rule" for myself, and it has worked 90% of the time. The rule is "If I am pissed (which is usually the case) don't go complain or verbally shank whoever (usually management) until 72 hours after the incident. " This usually works 90% of the time... The other 10% of time? Well you know...

Ladylee does what Ladylee has to do... I talk a lot of shit, then turn in my leave slip and go home for one or two days.

I was going to go over to the other building and let the people in that group have it. I thought of all the things I would say if I ran into them, etc. Stuff like...

"You can take as many instruments as you want... But you need to refrain from impuning my integrity!"

I've been wanting to use Condoleeza Rice's verbal chin check of Barbara Boxer for so long...

But this is one time that my "72 hour rule" worked, and it worked well...

Oldboy ran up in me a couple of days later, with one of his employees in tow, while I was casually walking down the hall minding my own business...

"Management said that we could use the instrument today."
My supervisor wasn't in. And I hadn't talked with her yet. "Hey Oldboy, no one has told me anything."
He looked at me with a half-scowl... "So when will your supervisor or her supervisor be in?"
I shrugged my shoulders and walked away, leaving him and his employee standing there.

I, LadyLee, was not at all threatened. I, as most of management knows, do not answer to anyone except the Darth Sista T herself.

Oldboy didn't seem to realize that I was not under the spell of his stroke action. And, um, it was not late in the midnight hour... It was nine o'clock in the morning...

I talked to the employees in Oldboy's group four days later on Halloween day. They said they didn't say that we gave them a bum instrument, and I should know how Oldboy is... He says what he has to say to get what he wants to get...

"But Oldboy is tapping that ass!! He's twerkin' it out. He can just tell his girlfriend he wants something out of another group and she makes it happen! Why is he making up extra crap? Especially when he knows Darth Sista T don't roll like that. And ya'll KNOW that I don't sabotage equipment!"

"Calm down, Ladylee. We know, Ladylee. He just made it up. It's all political. He just tells Oldgirl what he wants and she makes a call and gets it for him... He just threw in a little excuse about why he needed it."

I felt a tad bit better after that. I was glad my friendly co-workers hadn't made it up. I had a Wal-mart bag full of candy and I generously shared it with them. We sat around and talked for a minute.

In walks Oldboy...

He looks all "dapper". (Dude is a strange dresser. My friend and co-worker Hen-Dog pumps Oldboy up and makes him think he is a snazzy dressin' pimp... Oh wait... he is a pimp, ain't he?)

"Hi ya, Ladylee. How's it going." His smile is unusually broad today.
"It's going fine." I am standing there thinking to myself "Oldboy, you are laying some serious pipe!"
"Um, Oldboy, you want some Halloween candy??" I stretched the bag out in his direction.
"No thanks, LadyLee."

He goes on talking to me like nothing's wrong. I'm just standing there thinking... "Dude you got some serious twerk action going on!"

Don't get me wrong... I have no problems with twerk action on the job. If you can stand people all up in your business, then more power to you! But it kind of pisses me off that the laying of good pipe is influencing decisions on the job. I mean, we're in the middle of a special project, and we really NEED our instruments right now...

And you know what the real kick in the head is? No one in that group has been over to use the instrument. The instrument has been sitting idle for five days. We could have been using the instrument for our project or even for our routine analytical work. I informed my supervisor that no one has come over to use it. She said she'll send a nice, polite e-mail. I told her to make sure the font was large and in all caps. And make it red...

"Shoot, man," I said to one of the older employees on Friday. "Don't Oldgirl know we need all the equipment we can get to knock out our own project? We are so far behind!!"

This wise female employee looked at me and winked her eye. "LadyLee, we don't have the special equipment between our legs to influence those decisions..."

"Always remember..."

"The biggest decisions are made between the hours of midnight and four in the morning..."

I miss Saturday Morning Cartoons, Part V

Hey, Hey, Hey...It's Faaatttt Albert!!!

And I'm going to sing a song for you

And Bill's going to show you a thing or two

We'll have a good time with me and all the gang

Learning from each other while we do our thing

Na na na gonna have a good time

Na na na gonna have a good time.

(Come on now...don't act like you don't know this song by heart!)

In the words of Mushmouth...I-ba u-ba tuba luba thisa show-ba!!!

Now I don't know (I don't remember, really) if this was a Saturday morning cartoon or not, but I do know one thing....

This was my show... I REALLY miss this cartoon.

You remember the fellas: Fat Albert, Rudy, Weird Harold, MushMouth, Dumb Donald, Russell, and Bucky. Let's not forget about Mudfoot and The Brown Hornet.

Fat Albert and his homies were a real crew. Everyone had different personalities, but they were true blue friends... They had their own band (The Junkyard Band) and they even had their own clubhouse...

The Fat Albert Show had to be the most positive cartoon series ever made. Every show was educational and had some type of moral to it. From this show, I learned from that it was a bad to lie, cheat or steal. I also learned that I should not talk to strangers. There were even shows about community service.

I tell you, these kids today just don't know what they're missing!!