Too. Damn. Late.

Ahhh, the unexpected, late weekend post. Amongst the corporations owned by satan, I think Black Planet and Best Buy are the worst. I gotta confession to make. Back in like 2000-2003, I was a BP junkie. I had a gang of "friends" all over the west coast. I traveled a lot, kickin it with my folks. I had fun. But it couldn't be all fun, now could it? Hell no. If it were all fun I wouldn't even bother to write about it. If it were all fun, I'd still kick it on BP when I get bored. People, I'm confessing my BP addiction because it has left me scarred for life. I want to spare my sistas out there who might be headed down the same path... leave the shit alone... you'll be sorry if you dont. You see, BP has a group of folks I like to call the "Wrong Muthafucka Brigade". These are the "men" who know they had no business talking to ANYONE, but somehow slipped past my bullshit detector. They're the baby daddies, the unemployed, the bullshit artists, the Elderly. The fake thugs, the underaged preskool crew. The fugly without reason. They together make up the WMB. Like my real life stalkers, the cyber stalkers that are the WMB still haunt me to this day. Being such amazing bullshit artists, they often had cool traits that allowed me to talk to them for a while without feeling immediate burning hatred and wrath. For example, I had my music preferences on my page... they seemed to draw ammunition from that. It is very important for the people I kick it around to like similar music that I do. So a lot of my conversation on BP was about my music tastes. A few of the WMB actually got my phone number because we were "cool like that". I wasn't trying to get with any of my friends on BP. But the WMB soon showed their true asses upon my resistance, and became the stalkalistic assholes of today. Now to the WMB member of the night. I swear its too late at night for this shit. There is a man who is the exact same age as my daddy that wont leave me alone. See, young stalkalistics are one thing. They never quit. Ever. They'll be engaged, have kids, moving outta state, you name it... and they'll keep trying until the bitter end. But the Ancients? Naw homie. They go away, make you think its safe to answer your phone. Make you think they've forgotten you and it's all gravy. You feel relaxed enough to answer without checking caller ID. Then one night, the phone will ring. And you're fucked. All over again. When we were conversing on BP, I didn't bother to check for his age. I took it for granted that we were in the same age bracket because all my other friends were. All we talked about was music anyways. Eventually he'd send me CD's from his collection that I didn't have, I'd made him a couple of CD's he wanted from my collection. It was like a trading thing. No harm in that. Basically I wasn't trying to know him like that, but he started dropping hints that he "liked" me. He was "fond" of me. He thinks I'm "beautiful". Blah blah. I started noticing he had a little too much first hand knowledge of old concerts, like EWF, Maze, Marvin Dead-Ass Gaye... buncha other old ass folks. Granted some of these old bastards still try to tour now... but this nigga was identifying the original tour dates. I began to panic. He slipped up and told me he went to a concert that I heard my daddy mention long time ago. One he went to in COLLEGE. Way the fuck before I was born. I double checked with dad, and the concert took place in 1977. I damn near puked. I ran back to the phone and hit him with the "How old ARE you?" *dead silence* Helloooo... are you there? I asked you a question. "how old do you think I am?" Dude, lets not go there. Simple question, simple answer. "I'm 48". Now I'm dead silent. This old MF was trying to corner me into being his elderly depends-meets-viagra partner!!! Fuck! When I'm 48 this nigga would be like 70 or some shit! NASTY! Like Adam Sandler said on Big Daddy... "Wrinkled Old Balls!" *shudder... holding back puke* Fast forward to this weekend. I haven't heard from the Geritol Pimp in months. Like I said, I thought it was safe. He has called me twice in a row. Once last night, and once tonight. I am so upset and depressed. One minute I'm chillin with my 3 favorite songs from John Legend (that nigga barely passed my quota. He's aiight though.), drinking my juice trying to hold down the soda-fast, relaxing in my rollers thanking God they dont hurt my head, and then this. I'm chilling, not being bitter about being alone, and I become the recipient of unwanted old ass love. This is the love I get? From old ass ancient negroes that are closer to retirement than I am to moving the hell out? WHY?? I may not want to be alone, but I ain't desperate! Man! WTF did I do to deserve Methuselah Love??? God! Make it STOP! Basically this old ass bastard has ruined my night. I know what he wants. He's scaring me. My mom wants to kick his ass. She reminds me of Taye Diggs' mama in how stella got her groove back... "What do you want with my BABY?" LOL... moms wants to beat the shit outta this dude. I ain't told dad. Or Junior. Or Nisha. And see, this is scanless. I mean, I have JUST reached a level of contentment about being sans-a-nigga, and now this old fucker calls and mocks me and my inner peace. I refuse to believe that shit can get more irritating than it is now. I'm almost looking forward to work tomorrow. Lemme go stuff myself with ice cream and soda. Make the pain go away. Ugh.