My Note to Scammers, Leeches and Playas…..
You are going to love me! You should probably know a few things up front.
You have met your match ❤️
I too am a widow. It’s been a long time but I am finally ready to move on with my life.
I’m single and have a kid or 2, well actually 8 but who’s counting right? What do I do for a living and how much do I make? Lemme tell you about that yo. I get up before the sun everyday. I have multiple jobs and it’s quite tricky to balance them all. I mean, who gets up before the sun to start telling people what to do right?
It starts with the top. He’s a royal jewel in the morning. Makes you feel all tingly inside and shit. Love me some of that asshole vibe. Then, I go from stall to stall waking up the animals, hoping I don’t get bit. After I do that, I put on the uniform. The chicken killing one anyway, I mean you have to plan ahead. While doing that, I milk the cow. Gotta have that vitamin D to keep the wild ones under control in the morning. When I am done, I go back and change uniforms.
My chef’s hat is a royal pain in the ass but hey, it comes with the job. Gotta do what you gotta do right? See, then day goes like this. I drop ’em some slop, pull some gunnie sacks over them heads and round ’em up for the public school system. I hurry and change uniforms again. After all, whose chauffeur wears a chef’s hat? I mean really?
Upon returning back to the estate, I get a few minutes break. I drop that uniform like a hot sidewalk in August and get out the real threads. Gotta move quick though, cuz I only get so much time before I gotta be the secretary and accountant. I put on THE T-SHIRT. You all know what I’m referring to. The one with the symbol. Tossing out a visual of my colors and shit. I wrap a rag around my head. Gotta be careful with the color your flying though… sometimes matching attire just ain’t happening if you know what I mean. Slap on those two fity jeans and my hoodie. Don’t mind the holes, that from the icident last week. Yeah, that was bummer for a minute.
I roll out the tunes and pull out the big gun. It kicks ass. Sucking all dat shit right up. The dish machine, well that’s another story but she works. Wasn’t her fault she got all fucked up by them animals throwing food and garbage at her and shit. Sad, sad situation there.
Then it’s time for that dreaded walk into the basement. It’s cold and dark down there, but I ain’t scared. I got me some back up. Anything tries to eat me, and I give it a hella kick and it starts right up. Yeah. Just like I thought. Get your washing on bitch. The dryer knows better than to mess with me. I will take that shit right down..to laundry mat if it stops working.
Times up. Gotta change into the accountant suit. Now, mostly it’s all fo show, but you know, you gotta talk all polite and shit. Secretary like. Pretend you got it under control. I be hurrying to negotiate times and places. Pulling out the good paper. Yeah, the good stuff. Water marked and shit. Printed and sent to all the brothers needing their share. So much for always being appropriate in this position, sometimes you just gotta drop that shit right out your mouth and let them know who’s boss. As if they caint see your suit and tie. Damn.
Before you know it, I am outta time again. Gotta get that hot mamma going to the grocery store look on. I mean, that shit takes skill. You gotta put up the mom hair, I mean, it’s what’s appropriate. Throw on them sweats, baggy shirt and hope you remember those coupons and your green. Everybody loves the green. Gotta watch out, they’ll trick you into buying shit if you ain’t watching. Going to the grocery store is a dangerous situation. It can get ugly ASF if there’s only one of them loaves of bread. It becomes a matter of skill and timing. Gotta be on your toes.
Not much time for gossiping with friends as I gotta hurry back to the estate to put this stuff away and get the chauffer uni back on. I roll on out thinking I am master of this shit. Then, I realize I am 10 minutes behind schedule. How am I going to get through this mess? And that Bitch just parked in my designated spot! Damn! Shits going down. The short people who wake up disguised as animals are going to mess me up for not being in the right place at the right time. I remember I have some green in my pocket. Hopefully I can pay the shorts off to not kill me just for today. They come to the car with the look. I grab the green. Sweating like a mo fo, they let me live to see another day.
As we get back to the estate, I have to get in the chicken plucking gear. That shit gets all over the place. Of course, right in the middle, the shorts want food. Gotta stop and throw something at them or they’ll eat me alive. I finish that chicken off like a Japanese ninja. Throw it in a Ziploc with some sauce and hurry to change back into the chef’s uni. Now, here’s where it gets a little tricky. I gotta be wearing the chef’s uni real sexy and dolled up like, cuz that’s how the boss man likes it. I also gotta be the nanny. So, what’s a girl to do?! Imma tell you right now.
I throw on some lip gloss, put on a push up bra, throw on the good t-shirt, undo my hair and put some eyeliner on. All while the shorts are demanding attention, screaming like they dying cuz I ain’t got the right color lollipops. I set those shorts down and give it to ’em straight. I don’t wanna use physical force but I will. You better be shutting that crybaby shit up cuz we’re outta time. You can take it or leave it but the boss man, well, he’s just rolled up. As he gets outta the car and rolls up the walk, the shorts are scurrying to pretend all is well. The boss man walks in. Everyone got those fake smiles on. Dinner is almost done. Everything look perfect. Until dinner. Then the whole estate crashes.
Back on with nanny uni. I got tissues in one pocket, the hairs back up. I’m ready for retaliation. I have the milk in tiny cups for the shorts. Measured. Because God forbid one have a drop more than the rest. I’m battling wild eyed, unhappy creatures who will, if given the chance bite me. Sound familiar? I stop the little gangsters from killing each other on a promise tomorrow is a new day. Rest up. Payday is ahead. Finally, the estate is quiet. I take off the nanny uni. I pull on a night shirt that reads “Fuck you. I’m the boss” and with my wild hair and overdone eyes looks at the boss man and says read the shirt.
As for pay, well that comes in ways other than money years from now. Currently I receive not a fucking dime for this. Yes, I do it voluntarily. Trust me, I am certifiable. Had a few good breakdowns but don’t worry, the hospital is on alert and has papers and medication ready for next. I’m really no threat, except for the one time, but we handled it. The judge gave me another chance. So we’re good to go.
What is it you do for a living? How much do you make? I’m dying to add another man and his shorts. You gotta pay upfront though. This shit ain’t for everyone. ❤️
More Love. Less Hate. H