Work calleth me.

First, travelin mercy prayers for the homie Martha. Be safe and have fun girl! *hug* So I'm back in hell. Well that ain't exactly true. I'm actually slightly glad to be back up in the lab. Why, you ask? When I had such a lovely day at home? Because. I'm a house-na.zi. The house was clean until niggas came home from work. And I went straight storm trooper on they asses. This realization came to me as I levvied a third death threat to my dad if he left his shoes in the living room, or if he insisted on keeping that ugly ass toothpick thing by the plant on the table. I mean, I had already threatened Junior's life a few times since he kept messing up the table with all his bus driver stuff and blank CD's. Nisha was spared my wrath... she knows from the old school days about my cleaning psychosis. Moms... well hell naw. You try threatening my momma. See where yo ass ends up. I left that damn knitting and crocheting shit right where it was, and I didn't say nothing about it. I kinda glared at it a little, but only when she wasn't looking. But see, that wasn't no half ass cleaning I did. I was scrubbin walls, dusting, vacuuming and sweeping every damn thang, I cleaned EVERYTHING in that house. I think I was too happy to be home, because I still had hella energy after I did it... hence the dumb ass shopping spree I went on yesterday knowing I need money for this weekend at State Meeting. Blah. So the niggas of the house were jeopardizing my supreme clean. I couldn't stand for that. I was nuttin up. So I ran away to play on the computer. Then I ate ice cream, and I was okay for a little while. But you know what, it seems that lately there is a lot of shit that requires instruction from yours truly. And being the benevolent ruler that I am, I'mma continue on my quest to make my citizens "less stupid". Because for real, there are some people stompin on my last damn nerve. So, without further adieu, The Get Cha Head Outta Ya Ass Dept. here in the IK presents: Lessons in AIM. By none other than Her Imperial Majesty. Of course. Now the people whom I give my number to know me well. They know better than to call me with nothing to say. If you're just checking on me, cool. Say so and hang up. I'll do the same thing. Many folks have received that, "hey, just checkin on your ass" phone call from me. It'll last like 1 or 2 minutes max. Long enough for me to feel confident that you're not dead or somehow in need of my assistance. After that, I'm good. I don't like calling folks if I ain't got nothing to say. Same with AIM. If I ain't got nothing to say, I won't hit you up. It ain't because we're not friends. I still got love for you. It's just I ain't got shit to say right then. Now I don't know why folks arent more like me. But I'mma help y'all. See, here's my issue. I don't want (and I'm NOT going) to stare at this all night: Random Nigga Uno (6:45 pm): So what are you doing? MistyS1979 (6:45 pm): Eating ice cream and listening to my stereo. Random Nigga Uno (6:46 pm): okay. Random Nigga Uno (6:51 pm): So you still eating ice cream? MistyS1979 (6:51 pm): *thinking: this nigga ain't got nothing to say* Naw. I finished it already. Random Nigga Uno (6:52 pm): okay. Notice the long lapse in time between our friend the Random Nigga Uno's response and his next question. 5 damn minutes. BOOO, mo'fo. Thats a long time in AIM land, at least for my short attention span havin ass. You see, that means his ass ain't had nothing to say. So why the hell did he IM me? It shoulda went like this: Random Nigga Dos (6:45 pm): Hey Misty,how are you? MistyS1979 (6:45 pm): straight, and you? Random Nigga Dos (6:45 pm): I'm good. MistyS1979 (6:46 pm): I'm glad to hear it homie. Random Nigga Dos (6:46 pm): Well I was just seeing how you were, I didn't want anything. MistyS1979 (6:46 pm): Aiight, thanks homie :-) I appreciate that. Good lookin out. Random Nigga Dos (6:47 pm): NP. I'll get at you later. MistyS1979 (6:47 pm): Aiight. Take care :-* See? The second conversation got smileys and kissy-faces. Quality, not quantity people. That is what's important. Genuine concern and to the point gets me faster than a whole lot of NOTHINGNESS. You see? I like this person here. I will be open to talk to Random Nigga Dos in the future. Please take note. Thank you. Now some of you may say, "Well Misty, you're mean and boring, so you don't have anything to say either, and thats why I cant carry on a conversation with you." Well first of all, "F- you". And second of all, you're right. Thirdly, if you IM me, it ain't my job to completely carry the conversation. If you look for me to do that, you're gonna be assed out. And yeah. I am mean. And boring. But there are some folks I can talk to on AIM and not want to kill them, or ask "and WHAT exactly did you IM me for again?" So obviously it ain't all me. Got that? Good. Now once again, because I've said this before... THINK before you IM my ass. Please. Save yourself the trouble, and me the carpal tunnel inflamation. Because I could be typing to someone I actually give a damn about. Thank you. There. The mandate is in place, and I must go work now. Govern yourselves accordingly. I'm out.