A list of 1-11.

Today is the first day I've actually printed out my post and proof read it. I hope it reads better than the previous days.

Bricks for Breakfast.

It's 7am and I'm at work. For you new readers, I love my job because I can read and write here with little interruption. But at the same time, I hate my job because no matter what it is everyday someone is cussing me out. For instance, I've only been here for about 20 minutes and I have already been yelled at about some syrup. Syrup. I wish I was making this up. But I'm not. There is guy standing right in front of me, staring me down and waiting for someone to bring him some syrup. I'm sure the greatest skill I ever learned was to type without looking because now I am enjoying this moment. I'm enjoying looking his punk ass in the face with the most sinister smirk I am able to concoct, while he's stuck there eating a dry ass waffle. Have you ever had a waffle with no butter and no syrup? That shit is like a brick. It's just like biting into a big red brick. I almost feel bad for the dude. Or not. I just took the walkie and radioed whoever is the syrup lady for today. Little does he know i never pushed the button. He'll finish that brick before anyone will know the syrup is missing.

The Irritation Crayon

It seems as if I am easily irritated. There is just something in my genetic make up that makes just about everything everyone does, irritate the fuck out of me. I am trying to work on this and they say the first step to recovery is to recognize the problem. So 11,000 words in and with seven frosties under my belt here's the crayon I never wanted. Irritation.

I imagine Irritation to be one of the ugliest crayons in the box. Maybe some cross between maize and forest green. There is no need for a color like that in life, so I found that description to be fitting. Let's run down a list of things that irritate me.

1. Hard boiled eggs.
I cannot stand hard boiled eggs. Really, what is the point of them? They smell like shit. I'm sure they taste like shit (no I've never had one). And to be honest they just plain annoy me. It's not the egg itself that annoys me because I am a firm believer in two eggs scrambled hard with cheese. It is simply the way its prepared and the people who eat them. They are so irrational. Who told them hard boiled eggs were a "carry around" snack? As most of you should know my brother was in the California State Meet. Well being the supportive sister I was, I sat in those hard ass concrete bleachers to cheer him on (Most of the time too loud and too often.) Let me be the first to tell you I have no ass what so ever so trust me it was a big deal to sit there for hours on end. Well anyway, to make matters worse, there is this old ass black woman sitting next to me yelling for Long Beach Poly. "POLY! POLY!" she'd scream. That's not even the worst part. In between her rants and raves she busted out a clear sandwich bag full of hard boiled eggs. Eww. I was praying she'd finish that bag before the 4x1 started but God must have been on a break. The race started and she wasn't even half way through that cloudy bag. I was already gaging just by the smell of the least appetizing snack on earth. I guess she was mad at me because my kicks were clean she decided to yell POLY with the eggs present in her mouth. Yes, in her mouth. I'm sitting next to her mad as shit, wondering what I did to deserve this. She must have had her hearing aid up on maximum volume because as I'm whispering to my mom about how mad I am this old bitch was eating hard boiled eggs all in my nose, I turn around to find her staring at me. I look up at her and she takes a big bite, yolk and all. Then while she has her beatty eyes fixated on me, she starts yelling "POLY! POLY!" again but this time some of her egg flew out of her mouth and onto my jacket. It took everything in my power not to knock this old bitch out. My mom had to physically restrain me. I know she purposely spit those eggs on me. If not but ten minutes later there was this guy throwing up gang signs rooting for Poly, I would have clocked her ass.

2. Dirty sneaks.
"Yo those are 10's. But I keep 'em clean tho."
No, that quote does not have anything to do with sneakers. But, let's be honest, that's the way we all should think. By no means am I stating you need the tip top of the line shoes because I know most cannot afford them. However, whether you buy your shoes from Footlocker or Payless, keep them clean. There is nothing less attractive about a guy, or a girl for that matter who continuously wears dirty kicks. I mean have you ever met that someone in a club that is just perfect. The conversation is there, what you can hear of it anyway, the outfit is there, nice shirt, nice jeans, then BAM! Fucked up kicks. That is a deal breaker for me. There's no way in hell I'm dating you if you have some busted ass sneakers. The way I see it is this, I don't spend all the time I do to make sure my kicks are clean to talk to you with some muddy ass sneaks. I just don't do it. A few months back I did a survey amongst my friends. You know, one of those "would you rathers?" I asked them would you rather date a guy/girl with a lisp or busted ass kicks? No you can't buy them any shoes and no there is no cure for his/her lisp. I had a overwhelming response of people who said the shoes was a deal breaker. My explanation for it all was this: If you saw me and my man walking through the mall you wouldn't be able to tell he had a lisp, but you sure would notice those busted ass shoes.

3. People who hand me balled up money
Oh God. I can't stand when people hand me balled up money. Unfortunately for me, for the past six years I've worked a job that required taking money from people. Just today I encountered that problem. There are a slew of Jehovah's Witness that are staying in my hotel. A slew of them. (Side note: I didn't know Jehovah's Witness had such a high black population. I mean I've never see them on the bikes or knocking at my door. Go figure).Well there was this black woman named LouAnne who had the nastiest weave/wig I've ever seen. LouAnne looked like Thelma from Good Times but shorter, and a bit thinner. She was a bit older too. Well LouAnne wanted to pay cash for four rooms she was paying for. I gave her the total on each individual room and she proceed to count out the cash she owed me. I know with age your skills decline, but it took her about seven minutes to count out the correct amount of money and she had mostly big bills. After she finally came up with the proper amount, and I woke up from my nap, she presented me with a soggy wad of wrinkled bills. I didn't even want to touch the money it was so nasty. Now to me, money is gross by itself. No amount of moisture is needed to gross me out. I had to untangle the bills, recount them, and give her her proper change. Talk about sad day. That's already two people to piss me off and its not even nine yet.


4. Children that walk on their toes.
I remember when I first went to swimming lessons. I may have been about four or five, maybe even younger than that. My mom couldn't swim so she obviously couldn't teach me. So I was forced to attend swimming lessons with Calves McGee. Now of course that was not her real name but I'm sure she acquired it by the age of six. I hated this girl. Everything about her drove me nuts. From her round stomach protruding out of her one piece to her strappy sandals that still bother me to this day. You know the one's middle aged white men wear with a crisp pair of khakis? I may have been all of forty pounds back then and she was fat with calves, something I've always lusted for. The calves by the way, does anybody really lust after being fat? So anyway, I found out much later why this young girl had such perfectly shaped calves, for what I thought was a nuisance, turned out to be why she had the best legs in the whole third grade. She walked on her toes. She bounced when she walked and she walked on her toes. The heel of her shoe never made contact with the ground. I looked. I flipped her little sandal over and looked. It looked like a strength shoe. Dirty at the top and pristine at the bottom. I hated it. I still hate it.

5. Being put on hold.
I hate to be put on hold. I'm almost positive it's my ADD that will not allow me to be patient enough to wait for people when they place me on hold. It's so selfish of me though because I tend to put people on hold often and for lengthy amounts of time as well. When I'm at work, I don't even say hold on. I just set the phone down and go on about my business. I'm thankful for those who are patient with me. However, I do not see my patience growing in the future.

6. People mis-pronouncing my name.
I touched on this a bit yesterday but its not even eleven yet and my name has been butchered quite a few times. Let me run down the list of names you should never call me if you don't want to get karate chopped in the throat:
1. Celica
2. Cecelia
3. Priscilla
4. Julia
5. Stacy
6. Silly
7. Cece

Yes, I put Cece on there. I've come to the conclusion I do not like that name anymore and would like to never be called that again. Ceese is fine. I like that. I even like Kyle. That is probably my favorite. However, just plain Celia will do.

7. Mexicans allowing their children to run rapid and bother other patrons.
I kind of touched on this a few post back. I am sure there is more than one race of people who allow their children to run all over the place. But, I haven't seen it. I haven't had the privilege of witnessing anyone other than Mexican running children. I just got back from lunch and today unlike others I chose to sit inside Carl's Jr. and eat. I hate Carl's Jr. I cannot bring it upon myself to respect any fast food restaurant that serves a Captain Crunch milkshake (No joke, check the menu.) Anyway, so I was sitting down attempting to enjoy my western cheese burger on sourdough while reading Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puffs when I was rudely interrupted by a little Mexican with no shoes on and ketchup all over his face and hands. This little bastard had on a soccer jersey and a diaper. First of all he was way to big to be wearing a diaper. If you can walk, fuck that, if you can run, you don't need to be in anybodies pampers. Real talk. Well, he took his little grubby fingers and rubbed them on my leg. I stared him down and then looked at his parents and said,"What is your problem? Aren't you going to get him." I know they heard me but they didn't say a thing. They didn't even bother to look up from their criss cut fries. I almost kidnapped his little ass and threw him in the back of my hot ass trunk. But I figured they'd never miss him. Would they even know that he was gone? They have a lot of about 50 of them waiting in the wings. One goes missing the other is there for the replacement. Can I have the stand in for little Jose meet me at center stage?

8. Losing at anything.
I hate to lose. I think losing is for chumps and we all know I'm not that. I'm so competitive it's ridiculous. I am halfway sure I was so mad for not writing 350 words the other day because I don't want Phillip to beat me to 100 thou. I want to get their first. I stood in line for hours with my mom for the iPhone because I had to be the first one to get it. I've been playing Guitar Hero night in and night out over and over again until I get one hundred percent on all the songs. When I play any game, be it dominoes, checkers or cards, I will not leave wherever I'm at until I've won. That's just my nature to always want to be the best. I've ended friendships with people because I couldn't beat them. When I was a freshman in high school I played BHS in a basketball game that went into four overtimes. I single handily forced four overtimes. We lost. You know what I did? I said fuck this I'm not losing anymore, and transferred my happy ass to the school. If you can't beat them, join them, either that or just stop being friends. Lefty if you beat me, guard that neck because I'm coming for the Adam's apple.

9. Jelly Sandwiches
Jelly Sandwiches don't exist. I've never had one but I know a few people who swear by them. Its toast. It's two pieces of toast with jelly in the middle. That is not a sandwich. Jelly sandwiches, or the lack there of, really work my nerves. I'm tired of people telling me they exist and they are sooooo good. They're not. Lefty keeps telling me I have to try one and I'll never know if its good or not if I've never tried it before. Well let me tell you, I've never been punched in the face but I know its going to hurt. I don't have to taste everything to know it won't suit me. Get off my jock. Please and thanks.

10. People who aren't passionate.
Be passionate about something. It doesn't matter what it is. It could be socks for all I care. But people with no passion have no more room in my life. I am constantly exerting unnecessary frustration on people who have no passion because they cannot fathom why I am so passionate about the things I do. Those who lack passion lack drive and determination and therefore are destined for meritocracy. Do us all a favor and find something you are passionate about. If everybody had a passion and they all strive for it, there would be a lot more successful people walking around.

11. Laker Loving Lil' Wayne Fans.
You almost never see one without the other. If they're a Laker fan they love Weezy. If they love Weezy they love the Lakers. They go together like peanut butter and jelly, but I wish they were more like those non existent jelly sandwiches I love so much. Being a Jay fan and a Chicago fan I don't see the logic in either. Laker loving Wayne fans are just stuck on some guys dick. Whether it be Kobe or Weezy F. Baby himself, they don't see the big picture. Weezy fans are the epitome of bandwagon. They are just as bandwagon as anybody who puts on a "Beat LA" shirt today. These new school Laker fans are bandwagon too. They joined when Kobe came, or rather when that nigga got good. These 08' Laker fans are the same guys who were big fans of Chicago in the 90's. Same goes for Wayne. Most of these Wayne fans are fans now because Jay retired and it's popular to like the dread head now. People will do anything to be popular now a days. Well I'll tell you what. Being the original Bulls loving Jay fan, we don't need you. If you're ready to jump ship that fast, you weren't down in the first place. So kick rocks. Barefoot.

Peace and Love

P.S. Happy Father's day Dad!! =]

(2,819 words today kids... Lefty I'm comin' for that ass =] 13,153 and counting...)