Lucresia Linton.com

Howard the Duck-Happy Birthday Mom!

Posted on 20th July 2010 in Spirit

“Dad! What’s wrong?”

Possums, I found my dad crying with his head in his hands.

Today is my mother’s birthday.

“It’s your mother,” said my dad turning to me with tears in his eyes.

The only time I saw my dad cry was when my he lost his father, mother and his two brothers.

He still has one left.

I don’t think he will cry for this one though.

They hate each other.

“What’s wrong? Is she okay?” I asked him.

“Yes. She is fine,” he replied.

“Aww…you are crying because it is her birthday?” I asked him as I balanced myself beside him on the back porch.

“No,” he answered.

“Aww…you are crying because it is her birthday and you are thinking about all the years you spent together?” I asked.

“No,” he answered.

“Aww…you are crying because it is her birthday and you don’t know what to get her?” I asked.

“No,” he answered.

“Aww…you are crying because it is her birthday and you love her?” I asked.

“No,” he answered.

“Then what is it Dad? Why are you crying?” I asked.

“Cause she made me put back the duck!” he answered as he started to cry all over again.

“What duck?” I asked him.

“The duck that I found when I went fishing!”he cried.

Possums, sometimes in life God gives you those keen moments in your journey where all you can say to yourself is “what de ass????”

“First she made me give up my dog…” he started.

“Which you found in a box when you went fishing!” I finished.

“Then the turtles…” he started.

“Which you foundoff a river bank when you went fishing!”

“Then the swan…” he started.

“Which you found on the side of the road when you went fishing!”

“And now the duck! She never let’s me do anything fun! She doesn’t like me going fishing!” he complained.

“Maybe that is why she don’t like you to go fishing! You keep bringing things home!”

Possums, it is my mother’s birthday today, the duck is back at the pond and my father is a broken man.

So, Mom-Happy Birthday, I love you!

Dad-You will never ever get to do what you want! That is what marriage is all about!

And so long Howard the duck!

comments: 0 » tags: birthday, howard the duck

When a Kettle Chip Is Not a Kettle Chip

Posted on 18th July 2010 in Spirit

Possums, you know when people talk to me about their children and tell me the funny things that they do? Well, my usual reply is always, “Ahhh, I missed that! That’s so cute!”

Well, never again!

I was asked to watch over my niece Danique while my sister took Ava and Dante out for some gourmet ice cream.

Possums, can I just say that Danique is tres adorable!

Like me!

But, unlike me, Danique likes surprises and if you know me Possums, I hate surprises!

I remember exactly where I was when my sister told me that her daughter liked to take off her diaper when she was about to do the do. I was at my own house!

Thank Christ!

At the time we had a good laugh, as I tried to convince my sister that it was cute.

Well, as I said before I had to baby-sit. I just focused my eyesight for what seemed like a second to watch the ending of a very inspiring television show, when I turned to look at Danique.

The girl had taken off her diaper and was standing over it!

“NO!” I screamed trying to scare her out of not doing anything. “You are not suppose to do that!”

Danique looked at me frightened. I picked her up so quickly, that I didn’t realize that she was still holding the diaper in her hand. Possums, she already made a deposit in the bank!

Dung was everywhere and my sister was going to kill me!

I thought that maybe I could play the sick card and tell her that I couldn’t pick it all up, but then how would I explain the fact that I was so into watching television that I didn’t notice that she had taken off her diaper? I had to come up with a plan and come up with it real quick, cause it ain’t take that long to come back from buying ice cream at Mickie Dees!

I gave Danique a quick bath, put on a new diaper and armed myself with a diaper wipe and started to frantically look around for stuff on the floor.

Possums, let me tell you that God is so good! I only found one piece!

Danique is backed up!

She is anal retentive!

Just like her grandmother!

Then I thought to myself that if she really WAS like her grandmother, then somehow she must definitely be full of shit, so I began looking for more.

Then I saw a kettle chip on the floor.

I remembered that Dante was eating them and must have dropped one. I reached down and picked up the chip, but it wasn’t a potato chip. It ended up being a piece of do-do.

Possums, all of the sudden the thing emulsified in my hands!

In my BARE hands!

Totally liquefied!

So, Possums, when is kettle chip not a kettle chip?

Possums, it never was.

comments: 0 » tags: kettle chips

An Aside- Chivalry is Dead

Posted on 23rd June 2010 in Spirit

“What the hell?”

I had taken my sister to IKEA to pick up a bookcase that she fell in love with online. We were standing in front of the display, while her daughter slept peacefully in her car seat.

“Charro, I can’t lift this! This is heavy!”

“Well, I can’t lift this either! Can’t we get an IKEA person to help us?” she asked me.

“No, that’s why they call it SELF-SERVE!” I told her.

And then I saw two guys a yonder. One was short light-skinned and the other was tall and dark. Both Black, with the taller one looking like Akon. I thought to myself, “it is funny how God always happens to send help your way even before you need it!”

I decided to play the L-card. I never really ever play the L-card.

Well…

The other day I followed a friend as she did her banking and the line was way long. My friend whispered to me, “I should be able to go to the front of the line.”

“Why?” I asked her.

“You have Lupus.”

The other day when I was in the shower, I forgot to get a towel. I could have gotten it myself, but when my toe touched the tile I shrieked.

Ava called out, “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to get a towel.”

“Don’t worry. I will get it. You have Lupus.”

The other day at dinner, “Where do you think you are going?” asked my mother.

“I am just getting up to get another slice of cake,” I answered.

“No way! You sit down! I will get it for you.” Then she turns to my brother. “Get up and get your sister another piece of cake! She has Lupus!”

So, it is with all this, here I was in IKEA, when I finally decided to play the L-card.

“Hi, there can you help us move this bookcase from up here to down here, please?” asked my sister.

“Really?” said the light-skinned guy kissing his teeth.

“I would do it myself, but I have Lupus,” I told them both.

“Why you got LUPUS in your hand?” asked the shorter light-skinned one.

But, wait!!!

I really looked at the guys. Tight pants, white tanks with rhinestones, really really clean I-never-even-step-on-a-basketball-court-before-high-tops, and baseball caps. Possums, you know what they say about two Black men walking together in the middle of IKEA with no women or children and no mommas?

They must be cousins!

The nerve!

Chivalry is dead, Possums.

Chivalry is dead!

Anyways, do you know that it was the taller dark one that helped me out first, without batting an eyelash? I know why the light-skinned guy said what he said. Jigga is angry cause God made him so short!

“I didn’t realize that LUPUS effects the hands?” asked the rude light-skinned Jigga.

“That’s why I can’t give hand jobs,” I told them looking dead on.

Caught by surprise, they both dropped the box by accident.

We had to switch it out for a new one.

comments: 0 » tags: Chivalry is Dead, ikea expedit bookcase

I Am Bambi

Posted on 22nd June 2010 in Spirit

Oh, Possums.

Oh, my Possums.

Oh, my, my, my, Possums.

There is a phrase that Jamaicans like to say, “never follow fashion.”

In English, it means, “never follow fashion.”

I was getting ready to pick up my sister Charro from her home that she shares with my parents. I promised to take her to IKEA to pick up a new bookcase.

The cell phone rang.

“I am already on my way,” I told her.

“I need to tell you something,” she said pausing for the effect.

“Oh, my goodness! Is it Dad?” I asked her.

“No, nerd!”

“Is it Mom?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What happened?” I asked, my mind frantic.

“I am calling you to warn Ava not to say anything when she sees her tonight.”

“Warn her? What’s wrong with Mom?” I questioned.

“Mom got eyelash extensions.”

Pause.

Big deal! Just last week I told both my mother and my sister that I wanted to get eyelash extensions cause I saw this girl in a magazine. The woman’s neck looked like she was sixty, but her eyes looked like she was twenty years old! My mother, as usual, pooh-poohed the idea and that was that.

“So? I wanted them too,” I told her.

“Well, I got them too…but she also got her eyebrows done,” she said.

“Oh, did she get them waxed or threaded?” I asked.

“Tattooed,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Tattooed,” she repeated.

“She got them tattooed?” I asked.

“Yeppers and that’s why I am calling to warn Ava cause you won’t believe what Dante did!”

“What did Dante do?” I asked. SIDE NOTE: Dante is her Michael Jackson-Battista-Usher-loving- son. When he grows up he wants to be a dancer, a singer and a professional wrestler.

“Mom came in and Dante was eating. I saw that Dante mouth was going to form the words ‘What the hell!!!!’ so I jumped over the stool and stood in between them so that I could give him a dirty look head on!”

“Well, did Dante say anything?” I asked her, laughing.

“Nope, but he just couldn’t stop staring at her. Her and her eyebrows.”

Yes, Possums, her eyebrows are their own entity!

“So, you have been warned,” she finished.

Possums, I wanted to see this for myself. But, how bad could it be? I just got cussed off for having done two new tattoos on my arms a mere two weeks ago. My mother never liked tattoos. ‘Til this day, she still firmly believes that I forced my brother and my sister to get their tattoos. Just because I drove them there, helped them pick it out, paid for it and held their hand, doesn’t mean I forced them! They are adults. They can make up their own mind!

Later on Possums, I finally saw my mother when I drove up to the house.

“It doesn’t look so bad,” I told my sister as she came in the car, showing me a picture on her phone.

“That is because she put foundation on it!” she whispered.

“Really? Oh, Dry!”

“Yes, really.”

“But, it is not even the eyebrows. I can’t get over the eyelashes! Why did you guys let her put it on such long ones? She looks doe-eyed. She looks like Bambi’s mother!” I told her.

“I don’t know why the lady put on such long ones,” she replied.

“How much did it cost?” I asked my sister.

“$35.00. We got it in that place attached to the convenience store.”

“That’s why! No, eyelash extension should cost only $35.00! It should cost over $200! Girl, you shouldn’t be able to buy beef patties and a bag of chips with a side of lash extensions and eyebrow tattoos! I saw this in the other Bible. It’s in Vogue!”

My mother came out of the house with the leaf blower. I honked at my mother to say hello, she turned around and gave me a quick wave.

Oh, Possums.

Oh, my Possums.

Oh, my, my, my, Possums.

Possums, why can I see her eyebrows from inside the car on the driveway?

I drove off slowly, staring.

I honked again to say good-bye and she turned around.

Possums, why can I see her eyebrows from across the street with the glaring sun beating me in my eye?

While, I drove away I had four thoughts. Number one-when is my sister going to stop laughing? Secondly, if I ever wanted to get a refreshed look without the Botox all I have to do is get my eyebrows tattooed! Thirdly, ain’t her face going to peel? And lastly, will I forever go down in history as the girl with the mother whose eyelashes and eyebrows make her look like Bambi’s mother?

You know Possums, I did learn something. Sometimes in life no matter how foolish the decision is to the outside world and even to God, maybe in the end you have to do what makes you happy. What makes you, you? What makes you a legend?

I am Legend.

I am Lucresia Linton.

I am Bambi.

comments: 1 » tags: bambi, bambi mother, eyebrow tattoo, fake lashes, tattoo

New Word-Peely-Wally

Posted on 17th June 2010 in Spirit

Peely-Wally (p’lee wollee)

Meaning: Mid-19^th century origin. The phrase heard mostly in the Scottish Lowlands and Northern England. Used a lot by Jamaicans. The expression may be an elaboration of “pale”, sickly, or feeling ill.

Example: I can’t have sex cause I am feeling a bit peely-wally. No, that still doesn’t mean that I could just lie there while you do your business. I ain’t no toilet!

Possums, don’t tell anyone, but do you know for many years I thought this word meant “penis”. I use to hear my mother use it all the time. She would tell my Aunt over the telephone, “I got peely-wally last night. And I got it real good. I hope I don’t get peely wally for a looong time!”

So, it was to my surprise when yesterday my sister Charro told me how she felt peely-wally after she got up. I looked around and thought to myself, “where is she hiding the guy cause I don’t see any peely-wally around!” How foolish was I to realize that there was no man AND no peely-wally! All this time peely-wally meant that you were not feeling well.

Top Drawer!

comments: 0 » tags: Peely-Wally

Mr. Fuck-You Man

Posted on 17th June 2010 in Spirit

Possums, I like to cuss.

I am one of those very few people who like to.

I kind of take pride in the fact that I could cuss in many languages and dialects. I am like a drunken sailor who has been around the world and many ports, though without the many women, bastard children, and tetanus shots!

However, I think that I have finally met my match!

Possums, they say that sometimes God let’s you see the error of your ways. He may turn around and feed you Key Lime Pie, which may be your favorite, but then He may keep feeding you it and feeding you it and feeding you it!

I didn’t swear for two weeks afterward!

As you all know I celebrated my birthday a couple of weeks ago. I drove around just having a day to myself, a “my day”. What did a “my day” consist of? I started with breakfast at IKEA. Then I walked around for a couple of hours with no one hinting in my ears to leave. It was DE-VINE! Then I went to the dollar store and walked around for a half and hour with no one hinting in my ears to leave. Then I went to the hair store and looked at all the latest weaves and whatnots with no one hinting around for me to leave. Then I drove to all my favorite thrift shops and rummaged through their wares, again with no one hinting for me to leave. Then I went to the MAC make-up counter and admire this man’s make-up, with no one hinting for me to leave.

I felt like Papa Smurf leaving Grumpy, Brainy and Smurfette at home!

SIDE NOTE: Ava was forced agreed to stay at home. Happy Birthday to Me!!!

Then I looked felt hot and I grabbed an ice cream cone and wondered what else did I want to do on my birthday… Possums, I went and got another tattoo!

I went to the place that did one of my first tattoos. On a whim, I decided on a Buddha. I was going to get a saying, but I changed my mind. I won’t tell you what the saying is, because I still plan to get it one day.

I was told to look through Jason’s book and that he would be with me shortly.

“Where do you want this fuckin’ tattoo?” Mr. Fuck-You Man asked me.

“Ummm, I would like it just above my wrist. Like so,” I told him.

“If your going to put your fuckin’ tattoo there, make sure that you don’t put your fuckin’ tattoo wrong –side up,” Mr. Fuck-You Man explained while he put on the sample on my wrist. “Now, go look in the fuckin’ mirror.”

I trotted (yes, I trot. I am a show pony!) over to the mirror. Mr. Fuck-You Man was right. It did look dumb.

“Yeah, you are right. I think I will get it right-side up,” I told him.

“Ex-fuckin’-actly!” exclaimed Mr. Fuck-You Man. “Time and fuckin’ time again, I see so many fuckin’ people get their fuckin’ tattoos facing towards them and when they are done, they know that they were fuckin’ stupid!”

“Huh-huh,” I answered as I settle in the chair of pain.

“But, I am not going to fuckin’ tell them to their face that they are fuckin’ stupid, cause that would be fuckin’…”

”Stupid?” I finished.

“Fuck yeah!” he shouted over the machine.

In the next thirty minutes or so, I thought about pretty things.

Quiet things.

Things like-frolicking naked in the meadow off the coast of Ireland, sex on the French Riviera as the waves softly whisked away at my voluptuous body, and downing a large Assorted Submarine in a quiet bistro somewhere. Alone. Hold the onions. I was trying to not only tune out the pain, but also tune out Mr. Fuck-You Man.

“Now, look at that. Look how fuckin’ great this looks!” said Mr. Fuck-You Man as he wiped off the last bit of ink and blood.

I have to admit even with all the swelling it did look…fuckin’ great!

I did feel like telling Mr. Fuck-You Man to stop swearing. Not in front of the Buddha!

I got another tattoo right afterward, paid my money and left. I left feeling sore and overwhelmed. My tally was now seven, but it still hurts every single time. It reminds me of losing my virginity-the uncomfortable position, the bright lights, noise of the radio and the looking awkwardly at the ceiling, while avoiding eye contact!

I told myself that I think that I will do maybe just two more. One day I will look like a badass at the nursing home. My dancing card will be filled for months!

I had just enough time to run and pick up my birthday cake, dash inside the house to get refreshed (make-up, clothes, douche-Happy Birthday to Me and shower) and of course, pick-up Ava.

“What did you go and do that for? Don’t you think that you have enough?” Ava told me when I showed her.

Possums that is the reason why I didn’t take her with me in the first place! I knew that she would piss all over the experience!
”Well, this one is the Buddha,” I said as I showed her.

“Mmmn,” she replied hands on her hips and still looking mad.

“And the other tattoo I got… is your name.”

Her face changed.

Possums, if Day Break could fly out of one’s bottom and fling itself into the sky, it would have done so right then.

“Oh. Well, then it is okay. I love your new tattoos!”

UPDATE: So, a couple of weeks have passed, and I am just about nearing the end of the healing stage. I was putting on the lotion when I looked down at my tattoo.

“It just can’t be!” I thought to myself.

I put my Buddha tattoo up to the light. The edges were smudged and some parts weren’t even lined properly.

I couldn’t believe it!

That bastard didn’t do a good job!

I was in such a hurry and feeling so peely-wally that I didn’t even inspect his work properly!

Mr. Fuck-you man!!

comments: 0 » tags: buddha, f you, fuck you, man, papa smurf, smurfette, tattoo, the smurfs

Breakfast At Tiffany’s

Posted on 14th June 2010 in Spirit

“If you need anything, please feel free to ask any one of us for help.”

“I will do. Thank-you.”

Possums, my uncle is getting married!

Sacreu Bleu!

You don’t understand. We all thought this would never happened. I would say when pigs could fly, but Possums, pigs can fly! One time my cousin Frankie threw a pork chop in the air when he was pissed off that he lost a game of dominoes!

So, like I told you pigs can fly! You just didn’t ask if they were cooked or not.

Anyhoo, Black people don’t get married often…at least in my family. I do, however, always seem to have to attend a lot of baby showers!

Oh Possums, oh how I love Tiffany’s!

Love it. Love it. Love it!

I am on their website all the time, especially since Miss Ava’s birthday is coming up. But, you know something? They say that when you are in Rome act like the Romans do, but they also say when you are in Compton, don’t act like the Comptons do, just get the hell on out of there! I am a respecter of all persons, but I hate feeling my colour. And to think in this day and age!

Just because I am black doesn’t mean I can’t afford anything in the store! Couldn’t I have a very wealthy boyfriend who played for the NBA and given me a large wad of cash to buy my heart’s desire? But, no! They just don’t think of that! Okay, I don’t have a man playing for the NBA, but they just ignore you! And to think, Ava didn’t even want to go in there! She wanted me to purchase the gift online! Not me. I wanted my Breakfast at Tiffany’s too!

As soon as we walked in I asked to be directed to the Housewares department. I was looking for martini glasses. I wanted something that said fun, sexy and decadent. And since I don’t think that a Cubic Zirconia -studded dildo for two would go over well, I settled for that!

Possums, do you know that every single salesperson was “busy”, except one woman? As I made my way over to her, the beyotch looked at me through her blindside and went and got her things quickly together and took off across the room.

Wow!

I caught a look at myself in the mirror. I don’t think that I looked ghetto.

I had on a new weave.

I had my nails done the way I like them-zebra print.

I had on a tasteful black top and a black pencil skirt.

Even my tattoos were covered up, just so.

I look like I always do-an old Italian lady waiting for her year of mourning to end!

I went up to the lady who introduced herself to us earlier and Possums, guess what? Guess which person the lady got to serve me? Yes, Miss Bourgeois Counter Woman who packed up her stuff so quick that you’d think she was the mistress and I was the wife coming home early from a trip with the kids in the Hamptons!

Didn’t she get a Bulla?

Ha!

I told her that I wanted four martini glasses.

Miss Bourgeois Counter Woman smiled and promptly searched for the glasses on her computer. She then placed a phone call to downstairs.

“I have a customer who would like to purchase four Martini glasses. Ah, not those ones. The ones that are $20.00 each.”

I looked at Ava and whispered, “frig” under my breath.

Miss Bourgeois Counter Woman smiled at me.

“Uh, uh. I am sorry they only have two,” she said looking back at me.

“How, about champagne flutes?” I asked.

“What about champagne flutes?” she asked. “Ah, not those ones. The ones that are $20.00 each.” A moment later, she shook her head.

“How, about wine glasses?” I asked.

“Red or White?” she asked me.

“Umm…What’s the difference?” I asked. SIDE NOTE: I guess you can’t take the ghetto out of the girl…

“I think that the Red is a bit big…you know what it doesn’t matter. Let me make another quick call. Hi there, what about wine glasses? Ah, not those ones. The ones that are $20.00 each.”

Miss Bourgeois Counter Woman turned around and smiled at me.

“No, I am sorry they don’t have enough to make four. I know, what about stem-less glasses, like tumblers?”

“Sure, why not?” I agreed.

She placed another call.

“What about tumblers? Ah, not those ones. The ones that are 2 for $35.00.”

I looked around to see Ava looking at charm bracelets. I felt alone, but strangely defiant. I think it was the air. The air of mendacity!

“Bingo! They have enough for four! You are going to love these, but I do find them kind of big for the hands.”

“Oh, darling, I am used to holding big things.”

“O..kay. Would you like these wrapped?”

comments: 0 » tags: Breakfast At Tiffany's, Tiffany's

Lucresia Linton.com

Categories

Archives

Howard the Duck-Happy Birthday Mom!

When a Kettle Chip Is Not a Kettle Chip

An Aside- Chivalry is Dead

I Am Bambi

New Word-Peely-Wally

Mr. Fuck-You Man

Breakfast At Tiffany’s