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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Stepping Out Of Your Board Meeting to Deal With Some Pee Pee Bull…

by today's Urban Chameleon contributor Don'tletthaJCrewFoolYa

This past weekend I found myself encountering an Urban Chameleon hurdle- a true straddling of two worlds. I was in Albany for work attending an annual conference with the State Senator to discuss the state of the economy with all the big dogs including guest speaker Warren Buffet, when I get an urgent and panicked call from a childhood friend that I grew up with in the Bronx, Arianna. I excused myself to take the call in the lobby and asked if everything was ok?

“Do you do drugs?” She asked me.

“No.” I replied.

“Like anything, weed, coke, heroine, LCD tabs, Shrooms, Wippets?”

“No, no, no, not since college and no.” I replied.

“How about Antibiotics? Or even Pro-biotics? Are you on any?”

“No, where is this going I’m at a conference with the State Senator and Warren Buffet is about to speak”

“I have a job interview to be the bartender at the Ritz Carlton and the woman said I need clean pee to get the job.”

"Ok what does that have to do with me?"

“I need to borrow some of your pee.”

“What! For what?!”

"In order to pass the drug test duh!"

Okay wait was she really trying to also play me in the mist of asking to borrow some of my pee? I really had to regroup for a minute and keep my eye on the right ball. So I calmly replied,

“I don’t know how comfortable I feel with lending out my urine. Not to mention how are going to even manage bringing it into the bathroom with you. Don’t they check you before you go in? Isn't it going to look suspicious if the urine is not at the appropriate warm body temperature?” Not believing that I was actually entertaining this ridiculous situation, she responds,

“I have a container warmer for the pee, you know like what you keep coffee in, that I'm going to transfer into a small jar right before I go in and stick it in the head wrap imma wear.

Wow she really had this figured out and with my urine.

“Honestly girl, I really just don’t feel comfortable. You’re going to have to ask someone else.”

I hung up not believing what I just had to deal with right now and couldn't help but to wonder if any of my other colleagues were receiving similar calls. I re-entered the ballroom where Buffet was already well into his presentation mad that I had probably missed some valuable information to deal wit some pee pee bullsh*t.

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