Jesus Be a Boeing 757

So.... add Mary J Blige and stir, and you've got my first week of celebrity sightings. Its gotta start slowing down now. Nobody sees ALL of Hollywood the first month out.

My mama is trippin again - this time about six damn quarters. *smh* My patience is about paper thin right now with this woman. She really needs to go lay on somebody's couch and get in touch with herself, because she's got one time to put her hands on my child for something stupid and we are gonna have a misunderstanding.

So Im sitting in the airport, already irritated about that, and wouldnt ya know it - my flight is delayed. No announcement, no nothing, I just know it was supposed to take off at 7:30, and at 7:58, I was still sitting in a rock hard chair, playing on my bout-to-die blackberry, mad. 8:15 and this heffa finally gets on the microphone to say the flight is delayed. Really? I would have never guessed.

Two hours after the planned departure, Im finally on the plane. Another one of them little shits, and this time, Im right smack in the middle of it, so the view from my window is a propeller. Seriously??? Its raining and foggy and I gotta look at a damn propeller for 40 minutes. No. Im not gon do it. Im tired, Im aggravated - Im bout to sleep through this flight and get my mind right before we land.

This muthafucka takes off and Im not even kidding - the noise my propeller was making had me wanting to climb out the emergency hatch. WTF is that???? Yall dont hear this shit? Im looking at the flight attendant, steady traipsing up the aisle like she aint got a care in the world, with her raggedy wig, with the crooked part in the front, and tight ole uniform jacket. Loosen a button or something, lady, first of all, and second of all, I say again: YOU DONT HEAR THAT SHIT???? Im trying not to look at the man across from me, but he is obviously looking at me, either trying not to laugh at the blatant panic on my face, or looking for confirmation that yes, we are about to die LOL. Never in my life have I been on a plane that loud. I could not understand why a plane that rickety was allowed to fly. I meant to get the number off of it, and call Continental tomorrow to tell them about themselves, but I was so happy to have landed safely, I forgot. All I could do was haul ass off the plane. My apologies to any old people I ran over on my way out, but hey, we talkin bout critical shit here LOL. When I tell you I prayed through that whole flight, I mean from lift off to landing. Lord, you know I got kids. Dont do this to me LOL. I literally sat there and recited The Lord's prayer, then made a super pathetic attempt at the 23rd psalm, admittedly forgetting a whole chunk of it, but promising God that I'd learn it, word for word, if he just not let my black ass go up in flames in somebody's field. Clearly, He showed mercy and let me live, so I'll be in Bible crash sessions from now til I commit it to memory. God's not one I wanna welch on a promise to.

So then I get to the hotel, thinking I will relax, turn on the tv, and let the night settle. How bout the damn tv dont work. No signal. No signal? You know what, I cant even mess with this right now. I dont go tell nobody at the desk, I just say eff it and decide to go outside to decompress. A drunk lady is out there smoking and talking on her cell phone to some guy, who very obviously is pissed at her and ignoring how pissed she is at him. I wasnt really listening, but since I was standing right beside her, I did get a decent gauge of the conversation. He hung up on her and she looked perturbed, so I turn to her and ask, "your son or your boyfriend?" She says, "yes."

*staring into the camera*

"Which?"

She either ignored or didnt register the question, but between the long island iced tea and the cigarette, she was all jacked up LOL. Slurring through it all, she started telling me how "he" has to go and he doesnt understand what she has been through and all she is trying to do. Im still confused, but Im thinking, ok, her son is taking advantage of her willingness to allow him to stay there and her taking care of him. I ask, "how old is he?" "47," she says. "You have a 47 year old son??? OMG, you look GREAT!!!" She thanks me and thanks me and keeps on talking, when suddenly she says some shit I cant remember, but totally was not about somebody's kid. I go, "your son?" She says,"no, my boyfriend." Lady, Ima need you to stop drinking. BTW, if the 47 year old is your boyfriend, you look like shit.

Needless to say, I have had better days, but at least my bed is comfortable. I will definitely get a good sleep. A couple crancardis will ensure that, and since Im getting a late go on em, Im gonna go ahead and start right now.

Tomorrow has got to be a better day...