'Tis the Season to be Bratty

Speaking of colonialism (see the previous post)....

A recent article in The Daily Mail profiles a British teen who is not fucking around when it comes to Christmas.

Mekeeda Austin's mother found the following letter in her 13-year-old daughter's backpack:



AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I think what really takes it over the edge--you know, after the threat to kill, cook, and serve up Santa's reindeer--is her smiley-face and 'xoxo' signature. This chick is cray.

I'm not exactly sure how this made the local news, though. Did the mom call someone? Did the girl post it on her FB page? How did it get from her backpack to The Daily Mail?

I mean, if they're going to run a human-interest story, they should really focus on the news-worthy part--her hot-mess mom, Tracey:

[H]er mother Tracey, 40, is not punishing her for the letter and has vowed to meet her daughter's demands saying: 'You don't want to get on the wrong side of Mekeeda.

'When I first found the letter I thought it was funny, now I think I better get her what she wants, the last thing I want is for her to kill Santa. 'I know it sounds like she is spoilt but I like to get my daughter what she wants also you don't want to get on the wrong side of her.'"

Is she telling us her daughter is a sociopath and her life is being threatened on a regular basis? I mean, considering this is the opening pic in the article, I wouldn't be surprised.

AAAAHHHH!!!!

Tracy is described as a "stay-at-home mother," which I can't imagine being particularly lucrative (there's no mention of another parent/head of household). Although she admits that Mekeeda "will probably lose the Blackberry," she's still going to get it for her.
Why doesn't she get her some spinning gold rims while she's at it? I think her money would be better spent on a year of therapy (for both of them), don't you?
#whyI'mneverhavingkids

#whyblackpeoplecan'thavenicethings

First Post of 2010!

Happy 2010 guys! I’ve really missed you; I haven’t blogged in a decade! 2009 was a wild ride from one hemisphere to the other – but let’s never speak of it again. I haven’t been on the plantation in over a week, but was quite pleased to arrive and find that our internet is down – there’s only so much work I can pretend to do when I can’t even check my outlook. Anywho—let’s get up to speed by writing a post in a word document.

Since last I blogged, things have been mostly copacetic. Christmas was spent seated in a recliner wearing an electric blanket (my one and only present from Santa) and watching “Taken,” starring Liam Neeson. I love action films, and came away with one vital piece of information: I have a deep-seated desire for Liam Neeson to be my real-life dad. Well, that, and never give a random TMI, or you’ll end up sex-trafficked, on a boat bound for the United Arab Emirates.

After Christmas, blacktress headed into the flurry of excitement that is the 7 days of Kwanzaa – which, as you all know, is Swahili for “After-Christmas sales.” Mother and I celebrated right, getting 40% off items at Banana Republic.

(I’m sorry, is it just me, or is any holiday invented by a dude named Ron in 1966 somewhat suspect? I just don’t know if I buy it. Plus, doesn’t “kinara” – in which the kwanzaa candles are held – sound a lot like ‘menorah’ + ‘kwanzaa’? You can’t call it your own and jack it from the Jews, people!)

I was thrown for a loop when, on 12/30, I received a facebook invite from the college bf to whom I lost my virginity. He’s still in purgatory, mostly because I don’t know how to handle this. While he’s a swell fella who I have no drama with (I know, a huge surprise!), I don’t know if he needs access to my f-book. I live my life by a few simple rules, one of which is: You can’t poke me on facebook after you’ve poked me in real life. Call me old fashioned, but it’s just how I roll.

I rang in 2010 with an uneventful mini-makeout session, only made more uneventful by the dude’s lack of follow-through. However, my most recent redheaded crush has lifted, as he had the gall – nay, the audacity - not to speak to a blacktress when she was looking hella good (you know, like the Gwen Stefani song). I realized that an imaginary relationship can only last so long if one party refuses to engage in conversation. I’m not cultivating crazy in 2010 – save the drama for Obama!

I was able to engage in many TV marathons, including Discovery Health’s “fat marathon” – the hour-long specials “I Eat 33,000 calories a day,” “Half-Ton Teen,” “Half-Ton Mom,” and “Half-Ton Dad” (not all in the same family), and my personal favorite, “The 650-lb Virgin,” – all of which I watched while eating pizza and cake. Ironic? Let’s ask Alanis Morissette.

[Sidebar: My office is freakishly quiet. What could these people be doing when we don’t even have access to the server? Clearly I have no work ethic]

Oh, guys, I just got the latest e-newsletter of New Voices Magazine – “THE magazine for Jewish students.”

Today’s message includes:


Don't you love the Holocaust?

Your movie theater does. Marked as "Oscar bait" whenever they come out, movies about the Final Solution have multiplied since Jerry Seinfeld made out during "Schindler's List" 17 years ago. Now Quentin Tarantino has decided to do the Jewish film execs one better, producing a spaghetti western starring the Juden. Miriam Mogilevsky takes a closer look.


But why worry about the Holocaust when Israel is on the eve of destruction? Sam Green reviews Rich Cohen's "Israel Is Real."


Don't let that get you down, though, because H&M is moving to Israel, says Beth Zalcman, and Americans should too.


Jewish media. No conspiracy.

THE site for Jewish college students.


Enjoy!

I don’t know why I get this magazine, or how I get on an email list in the first place. Is this some remnant of my relationship with the Israeli vegan investment banker? Did some audience member recall a bit in which I said “I can’t pass over those matzoh balls” and sign me up? Who knows. All I know is, I can’t put it down!!

Okay, it’s now 12:09pm and we’re finally back online. Time to earn my keep!

A White Christmas

Blacktress' Log, Star Date 14 December 2008.

I am becoming a total creature of the night, guys. The days of short shifts three times a week are over, as I'm on the roster 6 days a week now. Today is sort of a day off, but tonight is the staff Christmas party--oops, I should say Holiday party to be politically correct (but let's be real, there are no non-Christians on the staff. We silence those voices). Our boss handed out names of other staff members for Secret Santa, and I got a guy named Patrick, who works in housekeeping.

My original plan was to buy him a bottle of wine and call it a damn day. However, we were all talking earlier this week and I mentioned I had to buy a guy's gift, but he wasn't a bartender. Of course, not knowing who Patrick is, I have no regards for his anonymity, and just told them it was him. Even though he's not on the bar staff everyone knows him, and immediately laughter filled the room.

"Oh, that'll be easy," said one my pierce-tongue young things. "Just get him something filthy. He'll love it."
"What?" I said, partially confused. This is not how we do things Up Over, and I certainly thought the Brits (who I affectionately call 'the colonizers') would have a dash more class than that on this holiday season.

Then again, I should have known that the people who brought us the "quick fuck"--and, as I discovered two nights ago while getting a snack, enjoy KETCHUP ON PIZZA (clearly these palates are not refined)--would have crazy ideas of Santa's goodness.

Just then, Tracy, the only bartender over the age of 21, came over and asked what "we were on about."
"She's gotta buy a present for Patrick," PTYT said.
Tracy burst out laughing. "Yes, something really filthy. The grosser the better."

Okay, now, I haven't met this Patrick person, but I'm already uncomfortable. How would you feel if, when someone mentioned your name in the context of gift-giving, the first words out of everyone's mouth was "oh, get him something dirty!!" Is he a registered sex offender, or a just a run-of-the-mill deviant who is very open about his leanings?

Which then leads me to: what defines "really filthy"? We're talking animal porn, or just alot of full-frontal with lesbians? Yesterday two of the PTYTs went to a sex store called the Pleasure Chest and bought their gifts. (Apparently, down under, 'tis the season to be horny.)

Cat got her secret santa, one of the guys who works in the kitchen, a Kiss The Chef hat and some shorts that have lip around the crotch area--perfect for a penis to fit through.

Howie, one of the glassies, got his person some anal beads.

I feel very out of my element. It's not that I'm a prude, I just think a sex toy is the kind of gift that should keep on giving, and one you should purchase for yourself. And, seeing as I've never met this person and have a $10 limit, there's really not much I can go on besides what can only be described as "an intense heterosexuality."

So, um, I'm thinking a cock ring, and then two condoms from my own stash (lord knows I'm not using them anyway).

I'm bringing my camera tonight. This "holiday party" is sure to be a shit show.