A Deet Da Deet D**N moment

Happy Monday! It's another hot week in Phoenix, AZ. Yesterday, after church, I hung out @ Barnes and Noble. I needed to use up someone else's air conditioning and give mine somewhat of a break. If you haven't been to the Ahwatukee B& N on a Friday nite, you are in for a royal treat. Now, they have a Robocop posted up in this middle-class bookstore to prevent the upper-class residents' Bebe's Kids from tearing the bookstore up. It's the funniest thing!!!!!

This is a picture of my bro. Now, if y'all think that I am funny, you should meet him. This boy is just plain SIK. Yesterday, he reminded me of how our grandmother's hairstylist faked being mentally disabled and wheelchair bound in order to get another discounted ticket @ Disney World. Mind you, she was in her FORTIES doing some crazy mess like that. I laughed so hard that I started drooling. That's up there with my former student from UNC-Chapel Hill stealing a wheelchair from Wally World for Halloween. He dressed up as Christopher Reeve - - - post accident, with a straw as his trachea tube (sp?) clad in a plaid shirt w/a Superman shirt underneath.

I know some SIK folks.


Fun facts about my BRO:

Name: RJC

Born: 7-14-81

Hometown: E.C., IN (i.e. Booty, Da hood, Wasteland, Vortex, Venus Fly Trap, the place where no one clicks their shoes and says, "There's No Place Like Home")

Occupation: Ordained minister (I know - - - hug his sister, the HEATHEN), doctoral student

Residence: Bloomington, IN, but on his way to Tallahassee, FL

I luv my bro. He thinks that I am absolutely crazy. In fact, when I informed him that I had a blog, he stated that he wasn't surprised since most crazy folk, like myself, have one. I wanted to say, "YOUR MAMMY," but realized that I would be saying that about our mom.

Now, back to my *favorite* subject - - - searching for a home. Well, my realtor called and informed me that the place that I put a bid on already has a contract. The seller's agent had the gall to tell him, "Uh, by the way, your bid is too low." FOOL. This is a buyer's market. I am so sick of these Ahwatukee realtors that I do not know what to do. All of them claim to have Jesus in their life. Yesterday was 1st Sunday (Holy Communion). As they ate/drank their sacrament, did they choke?!?!?!?! I was so frustrated by this drama that I got off the phone and headed to church. I needed some peace and some SUNSHINE.

I am stuck @ the house waiting for the mailman to bring my certified letter (which I missed by 5 minutes on Friday). I do not know if it's my earnest money, or some whacked out letter from the crazy Reverend Realtor. I am prepared for both. Jesus, please deliver me from the TOUCHED in the head.

In reference to the title of today's post, Deet Da Deet is a phrase that my students use when they feel as if someone has committed a "retarded" (a word that I hate) act. Although I admonish them for their slang, I found myself using this phrase, and on one occasion actually said "Deet Da Deet D**n" when one of my students made some whacked out comment in class. My students were in hysterics because they weren't expecting me to say that phrase, and I managed to say it at the "right time". WELL, Tatum O'Neal's arrest for CRACK is a "Deet Da Deet D**n" moment. The child is FORTY-FOUR years old. When is she finally going to realize that CRACK IS WHACK?!?!?!? She doesn't even have a BOBBY to put the blame on!

Miz Adrienne, get off the floor and get yourself a glass of water. ;)