Feel the Funk
Look at me America (from the east coast to the west coast worldwide) I’ve got wheels!
Atlanta. Ain’t. ready.
After much persuasion and kissing up, I’ve been allowed to take the po bug to Atlanta for transportation purposes. It should be an interesting experience as the po thing isn’t too reliable, but it’s gotten a new engine this summer as well as a few new other things. Also there’s actually a mechanic that fixes old Beetles so it all might be okay.
I’m just excited I won’t have to rely on other people for rides anymore…and gas won’t be too bad either. It fills up with 20 dollars a month down here which might translate to maybe 30 in the ATL. That’s still a shame though. I remember when you could fill up the po bug for about 10 bucks about ten years ago.
First purchase with the next paycheck will be a MP3/CD player though. I ain’t haven’t that devil’s music filtering through my speakers.
In other news…
I don’t appreciate my phone sometimes. Since we live out in the boonies, I have to sit in the middle of the front yard and wave it around to catch a signal. I was doing as much the other day and the neighbors’ children watched me wearily. (I sported a loud headscarf and was cursing in my own special way…)
Their parents were already concerned when they saw me taping an umbrella to the lawnmower to keep the shade off of me. It’s hot out there though! Shoot…
In still other news…
We just got back from visting a sister in Orlando. She was her usual self, cordial for about a day then putting on the “it’s all about me” attitude she’s known for.
Now me? If it weren’t for this blog, no one would ever know what’s really going on in my head. Moody for me is just extra quiet and I really don’t cop attitude with anyone, ever. My sister on the other hand…
“Father” once said she wouldn’t get along with Jesus.
And the thing is, he’s right.
Anyway,
The trip was somewhat uneventful. It’s kind of funny, the thing about going to tourist towns like Orlando is that you never really see “black” people. I mean you see black people, RARELY, but they’re never American.
But that’s cool though. I was talking to a dude from Kenya yesterday and he told me what my name meant in Swahili (church).
Still though, never in all my life was I actually wanting to see a person wearing an oversized white tee with matching sneakers and hat.
