Hate From Home

I was in a workshop session on Friday and my phone was vibrating like crazy. I'm horrible at checking my voicemail but I saw an unfamiliar number listed as a missed call, so I was curious. I listened to my messages. I had 20 some odd voicemails and I was mad I missed the one from the unfamiliar number (beautiful voice, ma!). Two of the messages fucked my head up.

You see, when I talked to LoLo the other day, I told her I'd be in the Chi for a few days. She said "I'm coming to stay with you Friday night." I laughed and we moved on to the next subject.

LoLo left a message. "Let me know if you still want me to come to Chicago. I need to know so I can try to beat traffic. Give me a call." Once again I laughed to myself. A few messages later, "Zed, you're really fucking with my travel schedule. I need to get on the road." Her tone's harsher, plus she never cusses. She's serious! LoLo thought I was gonna cake up with her on the company dime in Chicago. There are so many things wrong with that assumption:

1. You're not in my stable (i.e. we haven't boned so you might not put out).
2. You've never even checked me out in Satan's Anus or expressed the desire, which means you don't give a fuck about me. You don't get special treatment.
3. We didn't agree to this. Who the fuck is in your head talking to you in my voice?
4. If I haven't fucked you or am not related to you, you don't have the right to get pissy with me.
   

I didn't want to ruin my day so I didn't call her back. I'll call her Saturday and completely piss her off.

In better news, let's give it up to my young homie Robert Mack. I went to see his play Friday night and the man is smooth. The play was funny as hell! Mack's role was that of a nice guy that came out on top. His storyline was the one that actually made me feel the best. I don't even "know, know" Mack, but I was proud of that cat. I left the theatre feeling good. Big thangs, Rob Mack!

Peace,
KZ