I was talking to my best friend Creepa who lives in Louisiana.  He was too disgusted with his wife Karen the other day and had to call me to vent.  The two wed about five years ago and are now the proud parents of two daughters.  I hadn't spoken with Creepa in a while, so I thought and just assumed everything between them was alright. Not that they are getting a divorce or anything, but Creepa is just absolutely pissed at Karen for not telling him her credit was bad when they got married.

I chuckled when he told me about it, "You need to talk to my husband," I warned him, "I might not be the person you need to speak with on this issue. In fact, you and Shawn are going through a similar situation."

"That's some bullshit Sheletta!" Creepa yelled in the phone (he was so loud, Andrew heard him and wound up saying bullshit all day long), "You should have told that man you needed a co-signer on cash.  You can't get a damn loaf of bread on credit and everybody knows it.  You still owe Uncle Sam?"

"Yep!" I responded, "I told Shawn we might as well start filing jointly, and don't expect a refund until 2020.  And I ain't talking about the ABC television news show either."

"Ooh I know he was pissed off," Creepa warned, "but that's alright, at least I feel like I'm not in it by myself. You pretty ass women. I knew I should have gotten me an ugly girl.  Ugly women work hard, got good jobs and good credit.  But no, I was blown away by beauty.  Now I'm stuck with a wife who can't get in-store credit at 7/11!"

Creepa says he didn't find out how bad his wife's credit was until he instructed her to go to Best Buy and get him a new lap top computer.  He works three jobs--and hadn't been able to go to the store to get it himself.  Well, days went by, no lap top.  Then weeks went by--no lap top.  Then at the end of the money, he finally asked his wife where the damn lap top was!  She told him she'd get it for him the next day. Well, she got it alright, girlfriend cut out a photo of it and laid it on his desk with a note that just read "I can't get approved for in-store credit."

My poor friend says he pulled his wife's credit score and it's in the single digits!  She asked him if he could help her fix it to which he replied, "Hell no!  I can't help you fix this shit.  It took you 20 years to get it this bad!  The only way out of this is to either fake your own death or come up with a new identity."

At that point Shawn walked in on our conversation and figured out what was going on.  He yanked the phone from my hand and told Creepa "Man, we need some type of protection. Like a "Lemon Law" for men who marry women who look good on the outside, I mean, the body is fine, been waxed up, new paint job and tires have been properly rotated.  But after careful inspection, you check under the hood, you find out the engine is shot, the transmission needs work and the oil ain't been changed in years!"

I don't know what the hell Creepa told him, but Shawn busted out laughing.  He looked at me and rolled his eyes when he responded, "Yeah man, I think I'm gonna write my congressman and tell him to pass a bill. To hell with the cars and the Lemon Laws. You can get another car, hell, I'll swallow a $7,000 loss when I buy a hooptie.  I don't need the government to protect me from shady car dealers.  But damn it, when I marry a hooptie, then I'm in trouble.  They need to legislate that.  Put a "money back guarantee" on it.  Say you marry your wife, find out her credit is bad and she ain't never paid her bills on time and everybody in her family is renting, including her grandmother--you got 30 days to get out of it--no questions asked."

Shawn was silent then started laughing so hard he was crying. I mean, the boy was literally doubled over in front!  That's when I had just bout all I was gonna take. Everybody in the damn room was laughing except me.  Hell, even Andrew was laughing and pointing at me saying "Lemon", "Mommy, Lemon"! I demanded to know what the hell was so funny at this point. Shawn handed me the phone and Creepa told me, "Man, he is in the same boat I'm in--he's just paddling on the opposite side.  Neither you nor Karen are as sexy as y'all used to be. Coming to bed in rollers, feet crusty, stank breath.  Back when you were on the lot, you were shining like brand new money, now that we done bought you, signed the papers and got you home, we realize all the doors don't match, the windows won't go up all the way in the back and ain't even no damned warranty!  We drove you off the lot 'As Is'."

I’ve been catchin’ hell around the house for letting my roles as Father, Husband, Breadwinner, Landscaper, and part-time Cook interfere with my bloggin’. It has been “a month of Sunday’s (literally), since my latest installment of “Shawn’s Sunday Thought.” Not that there hasn’t been anything to think about….. It’s just the wear and tear of things that caused me to not write down my thoughts.

So here is my most recent thought. While watching news one evening, an advertisement aired about a drug that treats two health conditions. The commercial starts out with a guy walking in the woods and talking about his ailments which happen to be (High Cholesterol, and High Blood Pressure) when his body splits into two whole people. This old dude is as happy as a clam as he continues his walk describing how he takes one pill a day, which treats both conditions. His two bodies merge again into one person and he holds hands with his woman before walking off into the sunset. Happily ever after no doubt!

For some reason I couldn’t shake the notion of the “two for”. That’s a hell of a drug that can take on two conditions like High Cholesterol and High Blood Pressure. But I couldn’t help but think that the makers of this drug left too many other possibilities on the table, so I’m putting together a list of conditions that pharmaceutical and manufacturing companies should seek to develop. I will be taking a leadership role in development and securing product patents and fully expect to get extremely wealthy behind the strength of these products.

1. The makers of Viagra, Cialis, and other Erectile Dysfunction medicines should combine forces with the makers of headache and pain relief. This drug, (as yet to be named) would be for the benefit of men who need help “getting it up” and simultaneous relief from the migraine encountered immediately after sex when she starts talking about “where the relationship is going.”

2. Coming in 2009, a combination product to treat the negative side effects of flatulence. I’ve contacted the makers of Air Wick to commission a scented suppository marketed by the Preparation H people under the new brand name “Fresh Ass”. It will come in Women’s, Children’s, and Men’s fragrances. Women’s fragrances will feature floral scents, children’s fragrances will be sweet candy related, and Men’s fragrances will smell like meal time at Thanksgiving. As for the auditory sounds produced with flatulence, we are working on a soothing sounds muscle tension release valve that will prevent forceful expulsion of these anal gases through the sphincter. The end result will be a whisper quiet “Sssssst” inaudible to most humans.  

3. For the schizophrenic person who hears voices and suffers from seasonal allergies. The makers of Benadryl and Clozapine have joined forces so that during the relief of stuffy head, the voices are “blown” out with all of the snot, boogers, and mucous. For extra extended relief, the product comes in a convenient nasal spray brought to you by “NeoSynephrin – It’s Better Than a Mitten.”

4. Some of us aren’t as young as we think we are and we believe we can continue eating spicy foods with ingredients that are best digested with the metabolism of a 20 year old. Unfortunately it takes the development of Stomach Ulcers for us “old folks” to learn our lesson. If you really have it bad, you’re suffering from Gastro Esophageal Reflux Disease (GERD) and may need surgical intervention. I believe there is another treatment option available and am working on a product that would combine the soothing relief of an Antacid (Tums, Rolaids, Mylanta, Milk of Magnesia) with the reverse properties of Immodium A-D (Anti-Diarrheal). Immodium A-D is designed to stop diarrhea, but in this case, we want to do the opposite and encourage that spicy shit we just ate to move on through the system as fast as possible. So, we can continue to eat things not recommended, just take two “Sh*t Starter” tablets before every meal. You won’t have time to finish your meal before planting your butt on a bowl somewhere. “Sh*T Starter” will also be available in a slow acting or time release caplet that will buy you some time to make it to the comfort of your own bowl.

I realize that these ideas are kinda “out there”, but all I need is one idea and I’m retiring.

See y’all next week.

OK, so we're in Houston on vacation! I wasn't gonna say that we were out of town--cause I ain't want my neighbors to take the liberty of going in my house and "finding" some things they've been needing! Namely my big screen television and my jewelry!  But I had to take a break from what I was "gonna" tell y'all about this morning and tell y'all about my husband and his "showering" experience at my momma's house!

So we're on a shoe-string budget... with airline ticket prices through the roof and my net income as a stay at home mom of "zero", we're lodging at momma nems and have commandeered the spare car (Who in the hell has a spare car? I think my momma and daddy have hit the lotto or something) to save cash!

Momma had my old room all decked out, new bed, fancy dresser, nice linens that match the curtains... But ain't that a bitch though?  When I was a teenager, my sheets never matched, I slept in the same damn twin bed I had when I was 5 years old that I shared with my brother... the pillowcase was flowered, the sheets were striped and the curtains had polka dots on them.  But now we got pillow-top mattresses and a "bedroom set".  Why she wait until I leave to get fancy, huh? That's all I'm saying...

So anyway, we wake up this morning, feed Andrew, trying to get an early start on the day so we can get out and do a few things before the heat chokes the life out of us around noon time.  Any of y'all every been in Texas in July you know it can be brutal. It's so hot down here,  when we arrived, Andrew got a heat rash the minute we got off the plane.  I mean literally, walking from the airport baggage claim department to my father who was waiting outside to pick us up--my son bumped up! We thought he had measles!

We're already stuffed full with my  mom's home cooking. We arrived to a hot pot of smothered chicken and red beans and rice! Now, that's living...

Anyway, back to this morning, so we wake up, Andrew's eating breakfast, Shawn declares, "I'm going to take a shower." So he's off to the restroom, he emerges 15 minutes later and declares "I feel like I have spiders crawling all over me."

I look at my husband and he got little blue balls of thread all over his body.  He's standing there with his arms outstretched as if something was really crawling all over him!

I turned on the light and examined his skin--and realized my momma's cheap a$$ towels had gotten him!  He bathed with soft soap and then dried off with one of them big fluffy towels--but what he didn't realize was that the towels were light and fluffy for a reason--the threading ain't a real high count.  Instead of 300 or 400, it's probably 20 or 30! 

The towel my husband used to dry off literally unraveled on his skin.  He was swatting at his arms and shaking his legs yelling "Get it off of me.  Hurry. It's gonna bite me and I don't have my mosquito repellent."

Man I was on the floor. I searched through our luggage and found a lent roller.  I just took it and rolled it all over his body.  That's the only thing that could save him from the netting of blue webs that had covered his body. And they were er'rewhere, I mean ER'REWHERE!  I had to lift up his "boys" and get down there!  I went through four or five sheets of lent rollers before he was spider web free!

He was walking through here like he was Spider Man. I was singing the theme song for him and laughing my a$$ off. But it ain't bout to be funny for too long--cause I gotta hop my a$$ in the shower next. I might have to go ahead and air dry!

But I know which towels to pick now. I'm digging deep in the linen closet to find towels that have old cigarette burns on 'em and the blue towels that have been accidentally cloroxed over the years so now they are lavendar colored, or look polka dotted with all the patches of "white" on 'em.  Now mind you, I can stick my fingers through the holes and they are thinner than a Saltine cracker--but I damn sure ain't gonna have no spider webs on me all day long...

Have y'all seen the movie "Pride"?  Starring Terrance Howard and Dianna Ross' son Evan Ross?  I think even Bernie Mac is up in there as a janitor or something.  It came out last year sometime on the big screen, but of course, in order to view movies, we gotta wait until they come out on DVD--cause we don't Andrew spoiling anyone's movie going experience.

Now, we'll take Drew to a kid movie (although we don't do much movie or TV, he thinks the TV is for watching news and basketball), but not a grown folks flick, even if it's rated PG.  Because I remember being single and folks would drag their chil'len in the movie theater and the kids would start talking or hollering--messing it up for er'rebody!  Once, right in the middle of New Jack City, a woman on my row had a baby, had to be bout 6 months old, started yelling to the top of her pretty little lungs. I'm talking, right at the part where (sweet) Ice Tee was kicking Wesley Snipes in the ass and getting some revenge for the entire community.  This momma whips out her breast and starts letting the little one get her "lunch" on!  What the hell?  I was outraged, but at the same time I was glad that I was able to actually hear the movie again.

I always vowed that I'd never do that with my baby. If I couldn't find a sitter, then I'd stay at home.  Needless to say, since I'm so particular about who I let keep my kid, we do a lot of staying at home to watch movies!

And even at home, we gotta wait until he goes to sleep, otherwise, he'll disturb our a$$es while we're trying to check out a flick (not really a "flick"--we put those in the basement, but you know what I'm talking bout).

So the other night, there is no basketball on television, we don't do reality TV and the news ain't on yet. Andrew is asleep and Shawn suggests putting in Pride.  So we pop the DVD in and hit play.  I'm watching it and it's about some inner city kids who hang out in the pool and learn how to swim and stay out of trouble.  In the end, they win a state wide tournament and take home a first place trophy.  It's a real nice touching story--but if you ask me it's just Remember the Titans and Coach Carter in a swimming pool. 

But during the movie, there is a scene, where the kids hold a tournament at their recreation center, but all the other swim teams, which are white, refused to show up and compete.  Well, after months of hard work and preparation, the kids are disappointed and so is their coach, played by Terrance Howard.  There is a group of community members and fans there waiting on a tournament to begin--but Terrance Howard has to go over there and break the news to them and tell them that the white folks won't swim in a black pool.

Childddddddddd, before Terrance Howard can walk over there, the kids get up one-by-one and yell "This is our house coach." before diving in the pool.  Instead of a competition, these kids turn it into a personal swimming display--they each show off their skills before an awe struck crowd.

In the movie, Terrance is so overwhelmed that he starts crying and the tears are meeting under his chin. Now I know we got surround sound, but I hear more sniffling behind me.  I look up, and it ain't the speakers, it's my husband!  I'm like "Shawn, what is wrong with you? Your allergies acting up or something? Oh, I know, you're still depressed about saying 'I Do', but don't worry, in 30 years, you'll get used to it."

He couldn't even muster up a word, he just pointed at the television he was crying so hard.

"You crying over this movie?" I asked him, "Please tell me you are not crying about this movie!"

I must have teased him all night and yelled out "This is our house coach!" I said it so much, I had Andrew saying it too!

Well, long story short, our friends Jason and Madria came by for dinner a day or two after we watched the movie, and we had the case sitting out on the couch.  Jason picks it up and says "Hey man, did y'all watch this movie? It's a great film."

Shawn was like "Yeah man, I enjoyed it."

Then Jason confesses, "I cried at the part when the white people wouldn't compete with the kids. Man when they all got up and swam anyway.  I couldn't help  myself."

Needless to say, Shawn got him a new best friend.  Dare I even say "soul mate"?

OK, so it's Father's Day, and I got a good husband and he's a good dad--and I know I gotta get him something as a gift.  I got about $20 in my check book and I done wrote a $14 check in church, which means I got a total of $6 to "play with".  After I go to Walgreens to get the cards from me and from Andrew, now I'm down to $1.59!

He wants a copy of the book The Color Purple. He's seen the movie about fifty-leven times, then we went to Broadway show in New York.  But he's never read the book.  So I go to Border's, wrote a hot check, and got his book.  Now mind you, I knew I ain't have the money in the account, but I couldn't bear the thought of not getting my husband what he wanted for Father's Day.  I guess it made me nervous that I was writing these checks--cause my stomach started bubbling!  I mean, I couldn't make it out of the damn bookstore.  Child, I went in there and they had to put a hazardous sign on the door and not let anybody in there after I walked out.  They put up flares and sent in a "crew" to take care of what I had done. 

But that's all he really wanted me to get, but he needed actually NEEDED a docking station for his I-pod at work.

I went to Circuit City and found one for $40!  So I wrote a check, through a lot of sweat and shaky hands, to get him the docking station.  My stomach again got nervous, I thought "Surely, I can make it home."; so I jumped in the car and tried to get back on "my side of town".  Cause nobody likes going to a public restroom, especially when it's a #2!  And y'all know I'm a germ phobe to boot--so the last thing I wanted to do was "sit down" and stay a while in a restroom that wasn't properly Lysol-ed and Clorox-ed.

But I couldn't get to I-94!  I mean, my stomach was rumbling like Mount St. Helen.  The only place I saw that I could get to quickly enough was TGI Friday in Woodbury.  I ran two red lights and a stop-sign, turned the corner on two wheels--left the damn docking station, my purse and the book on the front seat of my car with the windows down and the car running with the keys in the ignition. I could care less if somebody got in there and drove off--my job was to get to the damn "bowl".  I made it with seconds to spare...

So I get on the road, head home, give Shawn's his gifts.  He's thankful, but the I-pod charger is not what he wants.  He needs one that charges, not just one that docs!  So I go back to Circuit City, and he comes along to make sure I got the right one.  Childdddddddddddddd, the one he wanted was $50 more.  He offered to pay the difference, but I refused his money.  I wrote  yet another check thinking, "Lawd have mercy!".

We get home, and now the new one is missing a "piece" so I gotta take it back and get something else, because that was the last one of that kind.  Shawn can't go with me cause he gotta bar-b-que steaks--we got company coming over (his friend Reg is in town from Buffalo). So here I go, back to Circuit City, scared I'm gonna have to write another damn check.  I'm on the phone with him and we decide that we're just going to return it and go to Best Buy later this week and find one that he likes--we'll take our time and look at some other stores and find some other options.

I get back in the car and the damn gas tank is on E! It's not on E, it's underneath E.  I'm talking the car is sputtering and stammering and barely making it. I'm nervous as OJ Simpson at Bennihana cause I don't think we can make it home.  I look in my purse and find a single dollar bill. Y'all, I'm five miles from home, mad at my husband, and got no gas in the car. I pulled up to the gas station and got $1 in gas. How much did that get me? A tea-spoon full!  I could have used a medicine dropper instead of a fuel pump to put it in my car!

So I drive home, at 40 miles per hour, thinking if I drive slower, the gas will last longer. I get home and Shawn says he's going out with his home boy Reg to the bar to watch the NBA Finals.  OK, fine--that's good!  So we have dinner cause the food is done--then Shawn gotta get up and get ready to leave to hang out with his homeboy.

He walks upstairs to shower and Andrew's looking at him like "Hey dad, how you just gonna go upstairs and not say nothing to me?"

So I yelled out "Hey, how you just gonna leave the table and not say anything to your son? He's looking for you?"

I hear Shawn heavy breathing and smacking his lips.  I'm like "Oh, he's tired of me and I'm tired of his ass too. I'm just gonna get my baby, pack us a diaper bag and leave. We're gonna go and just ride around or something. But we're gonna get the hell out of here. I don't need this $hit!"

Cause that's what I do--when we argue or fight--I just go--jet--leave for a few hours--just long enough for him to get worried and wonder "Where the hell is she?"!  I'd rather be gone and allow us to both clear our heads than to be up in the house together fuming and mad and upset!

Child, me and Andrew walked out to the car, started it up, I saw that I was still under E!  I turned off the ignition, slipped on my walking shoes and we took a trip around the neighborhood on foot.  We went to the local fire station at the end of the block, walked around and learned that trees are "green" (and not blue) and not edible.   I looked back and was probably a mile or so from my crib.  I knew there was no way that I could make it back home without a defibrillator or a medic... so I had to suck it up and call for a ride. I pulled out the cell phone and breathed heavily before talking "Hey honey. It's me. Listen, let's hurry up and feel better about this whole day. Cause I'm gonna need you to come pick my fat ass up.  I'm a mile or so away from the house and if I try to walk back, I guarantee you that you'll be cashing my life insurance check sooner than you think."

Shawn responded, "You're worth more dead than alive.  Get to steppin..."

Then and there, I knew all was forgiven on both sides!

I'm so glad it's raining today, cause that way I'll be able to spend some time with my husband.  He's been out of pocket since the weather warmed up and the snow melted.  No he ain't working late--and he ain't been doing no traveling with his job--he's been out in that damn back yard!

That's where he spends all his time these days.  I think he's having an affairs with the pear tree we have out back or something--cause he spends more time pruning it than he does pruning me.

He looks so happy when he's mowing the grass or trimming the hedges--when he comes inside, he looks at me like "Damn, what are you still doing here?"

And it's not just like one or two hours--he'll stay out there all day and night if I don't make him come in the house. He's scared to come in to use the bathroom for fear I'll force him to stay inside--so he holds it and doesn't drink water.  Anything to keep him from having to spend time with me now that there ain't no Cleveland Cavaliers basketball on television.

For his birthday, he took the day off from work, and I thought "Oh, this is great, we'll spend the entire day together as a family."  Shitttttttttttttttttt!  Shawn got out there in that back yard around 9 that morning, just after breakfast; when he came in, it was just after 5 in the afternoon.  You could swear he was chopping down trees or something.  All he was doing was cutting the grass and trimming the bushes.  It was like we could see him out the window, but I  might as well been at home by myself with Andrew, because he never came in the house.  When he wanted some water or something, he sent me a text message telling me to put him a bottle on the back porch.  He was not playing with me. His a$$ didn't want to spend no time with his crazy wife, and to ensure that he didn't need to, he stayed outside all damn day long.

I was so  mad at him, I could have died!  I wanted to slice a smile in his neck.  I mean, it's his birthday... I figured we'd go out to a movie, take Andrew to the park or the zoo and spend the day together as a family.  My husband, "Farmer Brown" spent the day killing weeds and tilling the soil.

And when he saw I was pissed, he was in shock. Had NO idea why I'd be so upset.  I know what his plan is, he's trying to stay outside so he won't have to hang out with me. 

And he's making up projects, outdoor projects that need to be done RIGHT AWAY to keep him from hanging with me on weekends.

Y'all know I used to work on weekend, so he ain't have to worry about seeing me no more than four to five hours a day. But now that we have all day Saturday and all day Sunday to spend together, he's busier than a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest!

He's gotta build a gate for the desk. I'm talking about Shawn, my husband, with the manicured nails and the medical school degree outside with lumber, and goggles and an electric saw chopping and cutting and hammering all day and night!

I called my momma to complain, that's when she told me that my own damn dad does the same thing. He gets up on Saturday mornings and goes fishing at 5 a.m. and stays gone all day. By the time he comes home, she's asleep in bed!  Just the way he planned it I'm sure!

I was so desperate, I called my mother-in-law (y'all know I was hard up) and she told me that Mr. B, my father-in-law has an event for every season. In the winter, he's outside all day hunting deer and squirrel. In the summer he's fishing. In the spring he's planting his garden.  Then I remembered, last time I was in Ohio to visit them, way back in the woods near his garden, Mr. B has a 'man space'--an aluminum room with a couch and a television and a portable heater--he's got cooking equipment and all kinds of stuff out there. He can live in that one room shack for days without having to go inside and be bothered with his wife.

When I reminded Shawn about his dad's secret "living quarters", he got excited and went on line to see how much they were going for.  I told him that I forbid him from getting one and if he did get one, I was going to turn it into Andrew's play house.  He told me that I had a choice, either let him hang out in his aluminum room outside, or at his 'outside woman's house'.... needless to say, UPS will be delivering the structure in pieces Thursday before 3 p.m.

You don't really know your friends until you visit them at home.  This past Memorial Day our church friends Jason and Madria invited us to hang out with them for a cook out at their Brooklyn Park home.  We were delighted to accept! They had been here a couple of times but we had never been to their place.  They had a little baby boy, Elijah, that Andrew just absolutely loves!  He thinks Elijah is his cousin--and calls for him all day and night! 

So we get dressed, get over there and pull up in the driveway--Jason has this huge truck in the driveway--we'd never seen his truck before now.  The license plate had "Bo Htr" personalized on them.  I asked "Shawn, why does Jason have Bow Hunter on his license plate?"

Shawn was just as confused as I was "Oh baby, I don't know. I'm sure that's not his truck, it probably belongs to someone who is here for the cook out."

Let me give y'all some background on Jason and Madria--they are absolutely in love with Jesus!  Jason is an usher at our church and Madria is in the praise ministry.  They attend all the church business meetings and they are really dedicated to the Lord.

Child, Jason answered the door and he had a tongue ring in his mouth.  I didn't know what it was. I was like "Oh, they probably have silver colored cherries that they're passing out for dessert!  Surely that ain't a tongue ring."

It had to be a tongue ring because I looked for the damn cherries all over the kitchen and couldn't find them--and he never swallowed the one he was eating.

We had a chuckle; then fixed us a plate of food and got ready to stuff our bellies with bar-b-que!  After leaving the kitchen, we went down to the den and sat down to get our grub on.  We looked up on the wall and it was like wild kingdom or something.  Jason had deer heads all over the place, a stuffed wild turkey--huge poster sized photos of all kind of wild game that he's killed!  Shawn and I were in shock, "Jason," I yelled out, "that's your truck?  You killed all these animals?  Man, I can't believe it.  You're an usher and you're a hunter. What gives?"

"Oh man, I've always hunted. I love it." he told  me.

Madria his wife chimed in, "Oh girl he was hunting when I met him. He told me when we got married, that's the only thing he wanted to continue to do after we wed was hunt.  And I had to accept it."

Shawn got a devious look on his face, before he declared, "I was a hunter too before I got married, but my wife made me stop."

"Quit lying boy," I told him, "you don't even own a gun!"

"I didn't need a gun for what I was hunting.  Wild women was my game of choice."

We all busted out laughing... so he kept on with the bit, "Before we got married, my den was full too with all the prey I captured... I had ass cheeks all over the wall--big ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones! I had 'em in all colors too, dark brown, chocolate black, high yella.  Oh I was good. I had my technique down pact!"

By the time that boy was finished we were on the floor. I was gasping for air and couldn't breathe. But he wouldn't let up when he declared, "I had 'em all up on the wall--strategically placed by date and location of capture... some were from Chicago, others from Memphis, a few from Houston... I went on hunting excursions to capture my wild women."

Jason asked him, "So what did you do with all those stuffed asses?"

"My wife made me take 'em down," he told everybody, "so I boxed them up and put them in my basement.  I'm officially retired from hunting these days. I hung up my bow and arrow the day I said 'I do'.  But sometimes, when I see wild women walking by--that ass be calling me.  But I just keep on walking--or at least I try to..."

Sheletta recenly hooked me up with a Manicure & Pedicure from "Pretty Courtney". I have to admit that I take great pride in keeping my hands and feet on the soft side, but I wasn't ready for the spread of surgical instruments that Pretty Courtney had near the Pedicure station. She had an assortment of stones, picks, axes, grinders, and on top of that a double edge razor. I'll be honest with you, I can deal with the stones, and even the picks, but the razor made me nervous. I picked it up off of the table, examined it thoroughly, and asked Pretty Courtney, "Just what do you plan to do with this?" She laughed and said, "I probably won't need to use it on your feet, but I always use it on Sheletta's feet!"

That night, as I slid into bed with Sheletta, I realized why Pretty Courtney has a toolkit of Medieval Torture Devices that she uses when doing a Pedicure. Sheletta has some pretty tough feet and she ain't bashful about "Diggin' her heels in." There were about 5 things that came to mind when she started rubbing "Them Dogs" on me.

Number 1: Sheletta can use her feet in place of a Swiss Army Knife. The heels can cut like a Wilkinson Sword. I'm talkin' about a slice so razor thin and deep that you don't realize you've been cut until you pass out from blood loss. There is also a bottle opener, a corkscrew, nail clippers, and an Allen Wrench so she can tighted up the bed frame if it gets loose.

Number 2. I never imagined what it would be like going through a "Mulcher". You know, one of those huge machines that are used by tree service companies. They come chop down your tree into logs that are at least 2 feet in diameter and another 2 feet tall. They take those logs and throw them into a giant shredder one by one. I'm not sure what kind of motor they have in that mulcher, but part of me wants to say that it is Sheletta inside that machine doing a "Barefoot Running Man", cause I keep noticing sawdust in the bed.

Number 3. When she does get a chance to moisturize her feet, things improve drastically. Its not always a cut and chop experience. Sometimes it is more like a coarse sandpaper that just takes off the top 2 layers of skin. I don't know how she does it, but she manages to rub my skin 'til my "white meat" is exposed. The funny thing is that with all the rubbing away of the skin, the hair on my legs is still intact. I'm still trying to figure that one out.

Number 4. Her toenails are rarely long enough to extend beyond the tip of her toes, but every now and then that ingrown toenail will catch hold of the linens and rip a hole in the sheet and the comforter. I'm a little particular when it comes to the sheets that I put on the bed and at the rate Sheletta is tearing through them, I might have to develop a "Dual Thread Count" to preserve the integrity of my sleep experience. I'm getting tired of waking up nearly suffocating because I've somehow ended up sleeping within the lining of the comfortor. I'm inside the damn thing hugged up with the "goose down" and choking on feathers.

Number 5. The last thing that comes to mind can't really be blamed on Sheletta. I'll have to take responsibility for how cold her feet are. I actually prefer cool to colder temperatures when sleeping, so she puts her cold feet on my feet to warm them up. It's not her fault that when her feet are cold, they are as hard as frozen cinder blocks wrapped in granite. These feet would make Fred Flintstone proud. If you can imagine getting your shins broken and healed on a nightly basis. The cold actually helps with the swelling, so I never knew I had multiple hairline fractures of my Tibia. Now I sleep with "Soccer Style Shin Guards" to prevent any further injury.

So, I think I've got enough material here to remake the "Agony of Defeet" and give it a fresh new twist which married folks across the country can relate. 

That’s all I can stand, I can’t stand no more!!! The economy is bad. Real bad. Gas is $3.70 a gallon, a pound of butter goes for $4.89, a gallon of milk is approaching $4.00, and a pack of bacon is over $5.00. We are cutting back but I’ve got to draw the line at my bacon.

Sheletta is the primary grocery getter in the house. I occasionally make the necessary runs for our meal essentials. When I do, I try to ignore price and just get the quality items that I like. Sheletta, on the other hand is very conscious about how she spends our very limited resources. After all, we’re a family of three on a fixed income so every nickel counts. Every nickel counts!!! Especially when it comes between me and my bacon. Y’all might not feel me on this, but when you mess with my bacon, you mess with me.

We’re preparing for breakfast on Saturday morning. I’ve mixed up my special recipe waffles, and Sheletta is on scrambled eggs and bacon. Drew is watching and dancing to his Schoolhouse Rock DVD. “Conjunction Junction, what’s your function? Hookin’ up words, and phrases, and clauses.” The house was smellin’ like “The Breakfast Club”.

We sat down, prayed over our nourishment, and began to chow down. The waffle was golden brown, with a slight hint of cinnamon, dripping in butter and maple syrup…… Mmmmm, absolutely  delicious. The bacon smelled like a slice of heaven. But upon further inspection, I realized it was something less than the bacon that I have come to know and love. It wasn’t Hormel, Oscar Mayer, or Hillshire Farm. My bacon has been compromised!!! And I’m not gonna stand for it. Instead of the nice center cut bacon with light fat marbling, this bacon was just the opposite. It had a large area of fat with just a sliver of “flesh” down the side. I asked Sheletta what brand of bacon we were having and she could only smile and say, “I saved $.75 cents on this brand.”

“$.75 cents?..... $.75 cents?,” I said! “Honey, you know better than to come between a black man and his pork!!! I’m gon’ try this old raggedy bacon.”  I took one bite of this bacon and the room went silent, cold, and dark. I was surrounded by pitch black, but could make out a faint light in a distance. I immediately gravitated towards the light. The closer I got to the light, the clearer the picture became. The light was actually a movie screen and the images that I witnessed were horrific. I found myself watching the life of the pig from which my bacon came.

This was a tortured and tattered pig that spent the first 10 years of his life on the streets dealing with chemical dependency and mental illness. He was in and out of Pig Rehab at least 20 times, but just couldn’t shake his filthy habit. He would often hitchhike through the farmlands seeking a better life, but could never last more than a day in a structured environment. This pig once wandered too far in the country where a small child held him captive. At that moment, he became a P.O.W. (Pig Of War). The child used this poor pig as a means of cruel amusement. He blew off his Pig Tail with a 12 gauge shotgun, hung him upside down by his Pig Feet, and cut off his Pig Ears and boiled them in a batch of Black Eyed Peas. As horrible as this scenario sounds, the pig would only give out his Name, Rank, and Serial Number.  He vowed to not let the little country boy break him. After several days, the pig escaped from his captor and found his way back to the main highway leading into town.  I found myself rooting for the pig and wanting to see him be a successful  member of the pig society.

Things seemed to get better as he was picked up on the side of the road by a kind elderly gentleman who apparently had taken a liking to stray animals. The truck bed was full of misfit farm animals which life had dealt a bad hand. There was a one-eyed goat name “Cyclops”, a dyslexic Chicken who called himself “Reverse”, a Bull with Multiple Personality Disorder (he thought he was the Cow that jumped over the moon), and a prostitute Sheep without a Pimp (Shepherd).   

These animals all seemed to get along fine and believed they were on their way to a better life since hooking up with this old dude. My heart was smiling inside as I watched the “Funny Farm” animals sing happy songs in the back of the truck. They pulled into a gated area and the sign at the entrance read, “Meat Packing”.

A quick flash of light, and I was returned to my Saturday morning waffle breakfast with the fatty bacon. It is such a shame that a pig that led such a horrible life, still ended up at the slaughterhouse where they will take anything and package it for human consumption. So, in honor of my poor addicted pig, I’m giving up all off brand bacon.

Sheletta can come in here with “Roundy’s” brand bacon if she wants to, but don’t expect me to eat it. I’ll kindly chip in the $.75 cents to get the bacon that has a real name.

Shawn is coming to bed really late these days, and it ain't got nothing to do with the NBA playoffs.  He's avoiding having sex with me.  But too bad, that's part of his punishment for not cooking me cinnamon rolls.

When I moved from down south to Minnesota to be with him, the one thing that drew me here were his cinnamon rolls. Y'all already  know my husband cooks better than any woman I know, including my momma and her momma!  He's got a mean fried cabbage recipe, can bake a Cornish hen until it walks out of the oven and leaps in your mouth, and will fry the hell out of a chicken!  The boy is bad in that kitchen, let me tell you!  When I moved here, I was a size 4, my fat a$$ is a 14 now, and proud of it!

But of all his dishes, everybody who knows him loves his cinnamon rolls most of all.  I don't know where he got the recipe, but preparing those things is a labor of love for him.  From start to finish, it's a 5 hour process, and after working a long day, coming home and dealing with me and Andrew--he ain't got 5 hours to devote to dessert.

He doesn't understand how much I love those cinnamon rolls though!  I will walk over hot charcoal in kerosene underwear to get to one of those cinnamon rolls. They are butter flavored filled with nuts--flaky and sweet--but not too sweet. If you catch 'em hot out of the oven--they're like Lay's Potato Chips--you can't eat just one.  Every time we get out of town guests, their one request when they come up here ain't to spend time with Andrew--or go shopping at Mall of America--it's to get a batch of Shawn's famous cinnamon rolls.

Before Andrew was born, and he had more time, he was good about  making a batch or two every couple of months.  But with a new wife and child, it's more like once a year.  Well, that ain't good enough and I'm doing something about it....

I'm forcing my husband to have sex with me--that should light a fire under his a$$ and get him to put some flour and water together--and put it in the oven!  That's right, sex every night with his wife until I get me some cinnamon rolls!

No married man wants to have sex with his wife every night--but that's Shawn's punishment until I get a batch of my favorite sweet rolls.  He doesn't even come to bed some nights trying to avoid having sex with me--I gotta hunt around the house and find him to give him his punishment.  Yesterday, he was in his office sleeping with his head down on the desk like he was in 2nd grade taking a nap at school.  Night before last, he was in the television viewing room on the couch--sitting up with his eyes closed--sleep and snoring--upright I tell ya!  I'm not letting him escape his punishment!  It ain't right that he has the key to my happiness locked up in those cinnamon rolls and he refuses to bake me a batch!

But that's OK, he's already tired of seeing my fat a$$ naked every night--I can tell because last night--when I hopped on top of him--he started crying and damn near threw!  I'm making his stomach queasy--just like my stomach is queasy from not having those cinnamon rolls in it!

So, needless to say, I'm expecting my favorite sweet treats any day now...

I knew that our decision to become parents came with sacrifices, and I was confident the family could deal with all of the adversity that life could throw at us. Since the birth of our beloved Drew, Sheletta and I have given up quite a bit. We’ve both given up a portion of our “disposable income” when we made the decision for Sheletta to be a full time mother. So we made the adjustment in our finances and cut back on some of life’s “niceties”. I’ve even accepted the fact that our new lifestyle would change the frequency of our “conjugal visits.”

I can’t tell you the last time we got our “freak on”!!! Don’t get me wrong….. The spirit is willing, but if Sheletta ain’t tired from chasing Drew all day long, then I’m tired from pulling “The Man’s” foot out of my neck on the job. On those occasions that we can enjoy a nice bump and grind, we have to look past the fact that I’m not “in shape” like I used to be. I’m sportin’ a nice rotund pot belly which is a direct result of “Good Living” and light physical activity. I like to call it a Stomach of Comfort cause we eatin’ good ‘round here. I’ve still got broad shoulders, but I’ve got hair growing down my spine between my shoulder blades and it is long enough for cornrows or dookie braids. I’m sorry, but I just can’t fix my mouth to say, “Honey, can you help me shave my back?”

As bad as I’ve got it, Sheletta has it just as bad if not worse. She’s so busy with Drew during the day that she sometimes doesn’t get to brush, floss, or bathe until after I get home. Most of the time, she’s just barely able to feed herself, and even then it is just a snack. She drags her tired behind to bed most nights with her hair all over her head, bags under her eyes, stinky breath, and a burlap nightgown.

So here we lay, a pot belly, hairy back, breaf stinkin’ burlap sack. Not exactly the picture of “sexy” that turns one on, but again the spirit is willing. “Are we making love tonight?” Nawww, not really in the mood. Let’s just spoon for a few minutes and go to sleep.

But once every two weeks, there is a “planetary alignment” when all of the distractions are minimized. We both show up at bedtime nicely groomed, smelling good, fresh permed hairdo, soft feet, and an urge for intimacy. Yeah, daddy gon’ get some tonight!!! I snuggle up to her and do my best “Jiminy Cricket” cause I’m rubbing my legs together and getting’ my chirp on (Bbppp, Bbppp). Sheletta looks at me and says, “Boy, you better go to sleep. I just got my hair done and you ain’t messin’ it up. If you wanted to Make Love you should have caught me last night when my hair was nappy. This hairdo cost me $60 and needs to last at least 5 days, so get your head together.”

So here I am hot, horny, hard, and longing for the days of the Outside Woman, ‘cause the cute hottie now has a different agenda since becoming the wifey. I guess I’ll unbraid my back hair and eat a late night snack.

A 20 minute one way conversation is what I had with my husband last night before I realized he wasn't listening to a damn thing I said!  I knew something was up, 'cause I was confessing to spending some money I didn't have and needed him to bail me out.  I was expecting him to throw a shoe at me or something, but he just said "Oh, OK honey! Let me know what you need." I knew right then, his a$$ wasn't paying attention.   Shawn came home from work early last night, changed clothes and scarfed down dinner--before posting up on the couch with a diet Pepsi in one hand (he accidentally bought them at the grocery store and didn't realize it was "diet" until he got home--and groceries are too expensive to waste) and the remote in the other.  It's like he built this invisible wall around himself. 

Between cleaning up from dinner, getting Andrew's poopy pamper out of the house (before it had my entire block smelling like a zoo), and getting him ready for bed, I didn't realize the NBA playoffs had started.

I'm really into basketball myself, but hell, being a stay at home momma, I ain't got time to watch no television, read the paper--let alone keep up with when the playoffs take place.  I just found out yesterday the first series are over, and they are in the second tier of playoff games.  Child, time is passing by me so fast, I thought we were in football season.  I'm looking for John Madden and Pat Summeral to announce the NFL games  on Fox--instead, I got Charles Barkley, EJ and Kenny Smith on TNT telling me about Cleveland and Boston! 

I looked at my son and said "Baby, say good-bye to your father. We won't be talking to him again until the NBA finals are over."

I done lost my husband y'all--and I'm sure I ain't alone...

I remember when Shawn and I were dating, and the NBA finals began. He was living in Houston and I went to his apartment to hang out with him and get me "some".  Child, he wasn't having it. He treated me like a wet food stamp, ain't wanna have nothing to do with me. I thought "Surely, he got an outside woman!" I left in a huff when he wasn't impressed with the (very uncomfortable) lingerie I was wearing under my clothes.  I hid in the bushes for hours thinking he had another woman coming over.  Little did I know (until I got poison ivy and THEN turned around and damn near died of West Nile because the mosquitoes ate through my flesh down to the bone), he was in love with the NBA.

That man is a basketball fanatic!  He can't get enough of the NBA--especially the playoffs. Being from Ohio, he's 110% behind Cleveland and loves himself some LeBron James!  He's got jerseys, caps, hats, underwear, the LeBron dolls from the NBA store!  It's crazy!!

And they got more basketball games on now than you can shake a stick at.  The games come on every freaking night, starting at 7 o'clock--and they're doubling up--so that there are games on until at least 11 every night. Then, add to that an hour of post game coverage--that negro ain't coming to bed until about 12:30 or 1 in the morning.  I ain't had no sex since the playoffs started.  I need to talk to Commissioner David Stern and ask him if they can put these games on during the day, while my husband is at work; cause the NBA is putting our marriage in jeopardy!

That's probably part of Shawn's plan though--he's hoping that I get so frustrated that I leave.  But I don't have the time to stalk another man into submission--poke holes in the condom and trap him into getting me pregnant and then feeling obligated to marry me.  Knowing I have bad credit, no steady income and am on medication. That takes too much time and effort!  And he was the only one foolish enough to fall for it. Any other man will just google my a$$ and know I'm crazy!

But I fooled his a$$!  You see what time this blog posted, don't you? I drank three cups of coffee between 8 o'clock and midnight and took an "upper".  When he got to bed I was wired like a stolen Cadillac in the projects!  I jumped on him like a spider monkey!  By the time I was done, we both needed a Newport, and we don't smoke...

I just had to come down here and tell y'all what happened... I'm taking my black a$$ to bed!

I’m suddenly realizing that we (Americans) are very wasteful. We have systematically and consistently set about using all of Earth’s natural resources with little or no regard to what our consumption is doing to the planet. In my home alone we discard everything from glass bottles, plastic, paper products, poopy pampers, leftover food, and a partridge in a pear tree!!!!

Our trash pickup day is on Friday. Allied Waste Management (The Garbage Truck) usually arrives on our street between 8 a.m. and 9 a.m. to collect our refuse. On Thursday night, we scramble around the house gathering trash like mice looking for cheese. We make sure that every trash can in the place is empty, ‘cause we don’t want nothing left behind that would give off any unpleasant odors and stinkin’ up the house.

As a family of 3 people, we don’t have a problem filling up a 50 gallon trash can every week. Truth be told, our trash can is usually full by Monday morning and we still have 4 days to go before Allied Waste returns. Week after week, house after house, street after street, city after city, state after state…… I have no idea where they take all the trash, but I am concerned that one day there will be nowhere left to deposit it all. We drink a case of bottled water per week. Usually whatever is on sale, but mostly Dasani. Last week Sheletta brought home a case of Ice Mountain water because it was on sale. While enjoying a swig of Ice Mountain, I noticed that the bottle is a thinner plastic than the other brands. As a matter of fact, they even have a note on the bottle that says it is made with 30% less plastic than other bottles. Now there’s a good idea to help save the planet!

So, I have taken an interest in doing anything that would help sustain our environment. Yes, I’m going Green and Eco-Friendly. I’ve been looking online to find out what I can do to help the environment and the learning opportunities are endless. One of the biggest suggestions to help in “Going Green” is to recycle. One website I visited indicated that anything can be recycled.

Anything?????

Yes. Anything!

I started out by organizing all of the newspaper and plastic bottles in separate bins that can be picked up for recycling, but quickly realized that we don’t have an over abundance of those items in the house. So I went “Dumpster Diving” in my own trash can to find out the contents of our trash. I was surprised to learn that most of what we throw away (90%) are items that Sheletta insists that we have on hand. Things like paper towels, Downy dryer sheets, “Pledge” wipes, paper plates, and Maxi Pads (Always Super Overnight With Wings).  Surely we can get along without all of these products. After all, I dry my hands with cloth towels, use liquid Downy, eat off regular plates and wash dishes, and don’t have a need for Maxi Pads.

I like to think I’m a relatively intelligent guy, so I contemplated the amount of work required to purge our home of these environmental contaminants. Sheletta would certainly provide significant resistance to my “Green” efforts to cut back on the items that she is responsible for using. So rather than go to battle with her, I’ve decided that the path of least resistance to help our environment would be to recycle Sheletta!!! When I look at what is really going to help me Go Green, she wins hands down. I could cut my packaging waste in half by just dropping her off at a landfill. It would be easier to convince the people at the City Dump to just put her on top of the trash pile and let her rot along with the poopy pampers and pads. Plus, she is Biodegradable, which means she can be broken down into harmless waste. Her “Shelf Life” is much shorter than most of the products that make it to our house….. Especially those Grocery Store plastic bags.  

So, I’m starting a countrywide marketing campaign to build support for my newfound, Environmentally Friendly way of life.

Go Green, Recycle a Wife!!!

You’ll thank me for it!