Monday, May 11, 2009

I Can't With This Kiddy Shit Anymore

by today's Urban Chameleon contributor

My bank account and I often don’t seem to get along. You see I’m under the impression that my account should have more funds in it than it actually does. It’s been seven years since my graduation where my father told me, “Congrats son, now don’t ask me or your mother for shit” that I’ve had to fend for myself for food, water and rent, which I have. With my degree I managed to land myself a well paying job and for the most part have been pretty responsible with my money including paying down my credit card debt from a couple of those Brooks Brothers suite this brotha had to have upon entering the corporate game. But what I really have a problem with is why when after paying all my bills I still can’t seem to afford a decent vacation?

I’m not even asking to go to Morocco and ball out in a palace…yet but can a brotha just get down to Miami, Florida? My boys and I are trying to plan a trip to Miami and I’m really trying to graduate to being a grown man. I’m not trying to fly into Ft. Lauderdale hitch a ride to Miami, crash in a room with seven of us located in a motel in a crack alley and eat breakfast, lunch and dinner at Denny’s. That stuff was cool for college but now that I’m a working professional a brotha needs room service. I work too damn hard to be on a pull out cot cuddled with a bag of cheese doodles but that’s all my hard earned cash seems to get me. Instead of getting my degree I should have been a rapper ‘cause I can’t with this kiddy shit no more.

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