STFD

to the woman who cut me off on I-84 i say, STFD.

to my aunt who likely hasn’t thought about me since she last saw me, then hears i’m in town and wants me to stop by i say, STFD. i have a cousin, let’s call him shadow. he slides in and out of the city unnoticed by anyone but those he intended to see. folk don’t like his stealth approach but i applaud him. do you cousin, i ain’t mad atcha.

to the old friend who asked me “how are the men in dallas” then was confused by my response “i wouldn’t know” i say, STFD. if what you wantto ask me is are you dating anyone, the answer is no. if you want to ask me why not, the answer is STFD.

to the guy who wrote a book on how to be respectful to members of the LGBT i say, STFD. really dude? be respectful? they’re people like anyone else. is a handbook on how to talk to them really necessary? shall i write a handbook on how to speak to black women? foolishness.

to the hotel that has the ant infestation, i say, CLEAN THESE FUCKING ROOMS. my goodness. i’ve stayed here now three times and never have i seen any ants. this time there were 8, yes 8, i counted, traveling along the bathroom floor. i called their asses at 1am and switched rooms. and yes, i will accept that complimentary glass of wine.

to the lady who rents my townhouse, nobody asked you to take off work today. sorry you did that but you should’ve gone into work. me and old girl from the property management company were only checking the exterior windows. no, we don’t need to come in. frankly, i don’t care to see what you’ve done to the place. it might send me into a pool of tears.

 

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