Big Fucking Yawn

So at this time, Supa Sister is majorly sleep-deprived, and not because she was up all night having that ass waxed properly, but due to an unfortunate and still unfolding situation that she will hip you to at a later date. Suffice it to say that Supa Sister is supa fucking grouchy because she’s a bona fide sleep whore, who recently lost her Ambien connection, and it’s just not a pretty fucking day when she doesn’t receive ample amounts of quality rest.

Which also meant that today was also the worst imaginable day to be strapped with the task of escorting Ruff Ryder #1 to that place called LAX, so that Supa Sister could see him off safely on his weekend trip to Oakland to hang out with our Bay area peeps. Usually the airport is such a fun place because (a) it usually means you’re about to hop on a plane and get the hell up outta LA (b) it’s such a prime location to watch and make fun of people and basically crack on the human race in general, and (c) each time Supa Sister glides through any major airport, someone usually stops and asks if she’s really Jada Pinkett. Fun, fun, fun.

So, needless to say…LAX was not fun for Supa Sister today. First of all, I hate that self-service e-ticket bullshit. Where they make you walk up to the fucking machine and punch in all that itinerary bullshit yourself. What the fuck? If I wanted a job at United Airlines, I’d apply for one, dammit. Next they’ll be wanting me to self-screen my own muthafucking purse for box cutters or explosives. Damn United, shirk your duties much?

And then this boy of mine. Jesus Fucking Christ. Supa Sister knows she was no damn angel growing up, but these kids and their new fangled adolescence just fucking slay me. You just can’t tell ‘em shit.

Supa Sister advised him not to stash all his gadgets and coins and chains and cellies and shit on his person because they were simply going to make him take all that mess off and out when he went through security, and I hate standing around and watching anybody, let alone him, hold up the stupid line while trying to fish all that bullshit outta every nook and cranny of every fucking pocket just to be able to proceed to the damn gate. Sigh. But you know how it all went down, right? Just as I described above. And I just stood there giving him the stink eye, wondering why he thinks he needs all that stuff to be cool, when no matter what he does, he stills ends up looking and acting like a negro version of Napolean Dynamite.

At any rate, Supa Sister is still salty, though happy to report that The Boy is safely en route. Now alls I wanna do is pick up some eats, get to the pad, hopefully avoid any and all stalker sightings, watch the new episode of Making the Band, and fall peacefully the fuck to sleep.

Out!