The Fuckshit Chronicles

Hey peoples, what's good? I'm still at my muddafuckin' job, doing muddafuckin' everything I can do to leave, to no avail. In the process, I've fucked around and stayed up until I have to do a massive project, a project that involves a great deal of public involvement. And I have to coordinate the level of public involvement.

If you haven't figured it out, Satan's Anus is full of bastards and bitches who know everything. Deez muddafuckas always have something to say. So you give them a forum and the time to say everything they want to say, and then when it's time to vote on the approval/disapproval of a proposal, they'll claim they weren't given enough time to say what they wanted to say. That's even if THEIR POINT OF VIEW WINS!!! That's that ol' fuckshit right there.

So I have to spend my summer doing public input sessions for 72,000 people (much less than that really because as a college town, 25,000 of those people are students). Now that doesn't seem like a lot, and in most instances it's not. I worked for the City of Detroit, and we did public input for 1,000,000 people.

Let me tell you it was much less hassle than doing it for THESE 72,000 fuckers. Reason being, Detroit is overwhelmingly Black. Black people have different jobs. They are fucking exhausted from working to make other people's lives easier than to talk all fucking night at a meeting. Unless I'm out there proposing to build a fucking freeway on top of their house, they ain't comin' out. They are resting up for the next day. Another thing is culturally, we're really not trying to prove to anybody how fucking brainy we are. These meetings become a source of intellectual one-upsmanship in the community. Each bastard trying to bring up a heretofore overlooked fact, much more salient that any other fact presented. Africans come out to tell you fuck what you think and they sit back down. No explanation of why you suck, just that you suck. I'm all for that brevity.

My first public input meeting as a staff member in the City of Detroit consisted of telling a room of 450 people that we were planning to build new houses in their neighborhood. I got threatened, berated, dissed, called out, and basically told to sit the fuck down. That one meeting was more fulfilling and meaningful than the hundreds of meetings I've attended as a Satan's Anus employee, because they cut to the fucking chase and didn't waste my time with all that fuckshit. That's all I'm saying.

Peace,
KZ

Everybody's Turned Bitch

It's a sad day in Black America. Today I just about had it and was about to flat out quit Facebook. It seems like everytime I get a status update from one of my male friends, they are doing the most bitch assed shit in the world. I'm talking about cats that come from some of the roughest circumstances in the roughest hoods going, talking about "Off to get my poodle a trim" or "Picking daisies with my oldest son". This shit is disheartening. I'm not much better. "I'm headed to yoga class" or "I miss my sweetie". That's some old bullshit. My father's got skin made of steel. My mother is notorious for being hardcore. And I'm out here shitting on the family reputation.

We're all victims of our relative success. When you see and experience nice shit, you tend to gravitate to it. So when my boy sends a status update like "I just finished baking popovers", I guess that African just wanted some fucking popovers, as bitch like as that may be. Who am I to judge?

I just can't keep reading this shit. Cats with a real rooting interest in "Sunday's Best", muthafuckers grabbing their snacks gearing up for a new episode of "Grey's Anatomy" or about to settle down with the latest issue of "Cat Fancy". I think I'm legitimately going to opt out and stick to this blog.

Peace,
KZ

Demitasse

I'm sitting at work, waiting for the secretaries to leave. It's a daily ritual. I wait so that I don't have to see them or talk to them as I walk out of the lobby. They are, for lack or desire to find a more polite term, stupid. I don't like making small talk about them having a nice evening. I hope they have a fucking horrible evening, because once again, they've made my day hellish.

"Sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up" is the silent mantra I have on repeat in my head as they darken my doorstep with another stupid inquiry, missive, or joke they'd like to share. "Fuck y'all" I quietly whisper as I walk past to go to the restroom or another endless meeting.

As stupid and useless as I think they are, I save the most venom for HR, who are clueless and feeble-minded. The "experts" in all things in regards to hiring, benefits, and "the rules", still inevitably call me six to seven times a day to ask me what to do next about any situation involving one of my staff. How the fuck am I supposed to know what to do next? That's why I sent them to you! Everyday is an episode of "Life Goes On" and I'm getting called by "Corky" every two fucking minutes.

That's all I got.

Peace,
KZ