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Momma’s Little Fire Bug

A recent news story about the third graders who plotted to kill their teacher got a lot of people talking. Talking specifically about discipline and how it should be administered.

If you’re not new to my spot you know where I stand on the issue. However, this post isn’t about corporal punishment. It is about one of my brief walks on the dark side and the resulting consequences and repercussions.

matches2.jpgDid I ever tell how I set my mother’s hair on fire when I was about 7 or 8 years old? I was about the same age as those third graders. Mom was sporting her Angela Davis Afro fresh from the barber shop, “The Head Hunters“. It was the middle of the afternoon and I was bored sitting on a Charles Chips can next to mom’s bed as she was napping.

Hmmm, well lookie there…matches on the nightstand.

Ssscratch…lit one. Ooooh the fire…lookie the pretty blue and orange flame. Wwwoo….blew it out. The smoke floats in the air like a soft quiet cloud.

Lets do that again!!!

Ssscrath…lit another one. Wwwoo…blew it out. That’s sooo cool!

Mama shifts in her sleep and turns her back towards me. The AfroSheen glisten of momma’s afro catches my eye. I look at the match. I look at the afro. Match. Afro.

Ssscratch…lit the third one. It starts like a teardrop rolling upwards from the middle of her afro slowly creeping up her head. I quickly realize this was not going to end well. Letting out a small yelp, I put out the fire with a single swat of my hand. Momma sprang up out of sleep and said “Chocl8t. What are you doing?” “Nothing” I said wide-eyed and nervously shifting my bottom on the can.

*Sniff-Sniff* “Is that hair I smell burning?” she asks. Feeling the back of her hair with her right hand momma asks “Child, did you burn my hair?”. “No ma’am” I said with my eyes big as half dollar coins. “Yes you did! You set my hair on fire!” she yells as she edges off the bed making her way to the bathroom with a hand mirror. My protest to the contrary falls on deaf ears as she reviews the evidence of singed hair in the mirror.

“Are you trying to kill me?” she asked.

Crying now, I said “Noooo momma, nooo!”.

“Yes, you are! Do you realize my whole head could have gone up in flames?! The bed could have caught fire! The curtains! The whole dayum house could have burned down!” she said while glaring at me with a look of horror. “Get my dayum belt!”

Honestly, she didn’t have to whoop me because what cut to my core was her assertion that I was trying to kill her…that I could have killed her. I don’t remember the whooping but those words have remained with me and how I felt the moment she said them.

Nah, she didn’t have to whoop me but it was probably a good thing she did.

Kinky Freak

Having a blog hosted by WordPress allows you to view your blogs stats. I author two blogs and view their stats quite regularly. Okay, everyday. tee hee hee

I know there are a lot of crazy strange people out there in cyberspace doing all kinds of kinky shyt on the Internet. However, while looking at the stats today I was like “W.T.H! Are you kidding me?” Somebody really typed “beating myself with a belt” in a search engine and The Chocl8t Diaries came up? Gett. Outt.!!

Then I thought who would want to beat themselves with a belt? Ole nasty kinky azzes!!

kinkysearchterms.jpg

Nosy BeoYatch!

angry.jpgWe’ll call her Tiffany, cause well, that’s the wench’s real name and I don’t like her. I have worked with this social retard for two years and she is just annoying today as she was when I first started with the company.

Since I am a Christian (stop laughing), I have prayed numerous times for God to help me see her as He sees her because after all she is His child also. Never mind the fact she doesn’t believe in God, hates her parents, has a fascination with serial killers, and talks incessantly about her dog’s pee problems (don’t ask cause I won’t waist my blog space explaining the stupidity of it all). See my “Do You” post.

It works for a while, the prayer that is, and then that bloodclot does something else to irk the ever-loving shyt out of me!! Please know that she and I are NOT friends and I keep our conversations to work related topics most times.

One day a couple of weeks ago I was returning from lunch with a male coworker at the same time Tiffany was returning from lunch. We all entered the building through the same door. I didn’t think much of it. Thirty minutes later I enter the ladies room and Tiffany is primping in the mirror when she turns and asks, “So, what’s up with you and that guy?”. With a raised eyebrow to indicate my confusion, I respond, “What guy?”. The conversation proceeds:

Tiffany: “The guy you went to lunch with.”
Chocl8t: “Tyrone?” (Oh, his name I’ve changed)
Tiffany: “Yeah”
Chocl8t:  Irritated “Nothing. Why would you ask me that?”
Tiffany: “Uh, I just thought since y’all went to lunch…”
Chocl8t: More irritated. “No. I make it a habit not to date men I work with.”
Tiffany: “Well, just between you and me…it could work if you didn’t tell anyone.”
Chocl8t: Pissed “Or if no one would make such stupid assumptions”
Tiffany: “Is he single?”
Chocl8t: Hot as Fish Grease “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him.”

j0433821.pngBeeeeeeyyoaaaatch!! You are a nosy dumb ass!! Why are you all up in my business?

I don’t know if I was so pissed because she actually had the nerve to ask me that shyt or because I actually think Tyrone is fine as HELL and it would go against my steadfast rule of not dating in the workplace! What it did do was, once again, confirm why I have this rule in the first place. I’ve never seen where such situations have ended well. In fact I have had my own bad experience.  See my Happy Valentine’s Day post.

Nosy ass Heffas like this make me want to punch ’em square in the forehead. Why the need for such violence you ask? Did I say how fine Tyrone is? How intelligent and funny? [fanning myself] Yeah…I’ve got to abide by my rules but Nosy Bitches make it hard for me to even enjoy the dayum fantasy.

The Barbie Bandits

allen.jpgOne of the persons involved in this idiotic fiasco is a close friend to a couple of people I love dearly. Out of respect for their friendship I held my peace and delayed posting about the unfolding drama. I wanted to see how it would play out even though I suspected it would end just as it did. But hell, you didn’t have to have a degree in quantum physics to figure it out.

Benny Allen has spent time with my family, shared meals with us, celebrated some of life’s milestones with us (he attended my 40th birthday party), and has been a visitor in not only my sister’s home, but mine also.

Nothing about this young man would have given anyone an inclination that he would make such a profoundly stupid decision. Oh, I could point to my intuition that something didn’t quite sit right with me about him, but nothing I could point to specifically because he was never disrespectful nor rude. In fact, he was quiet and well mannered. But nonetheless, there was just something about him that warned me to keep him at arms’ length.

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