Wednesday, September 27, 2006

AUTOBIOGRAPHY Of GEORGE BARNETTE II: Chapter 1

Summertime in Ocean City is supposed to fun for the family. Doesn't seem like much fun as I struggle to get to the surface. What did I do to make my sister throw me into the deep end of the pool? Luckily my parents were out there watching and my father dove in after me. She really tried to kill me. I'm sure my parents tried to kill her.

Hell of a first memory isn't it? Why wouldn't that be burned into your mind?

I guess that was around 83-84, 2-3 years after I was born. My parents, George I and Alice, sisters, Monica and Melalah (notice the M's), and we lived at 1115 Kennebec St Apt. 1C, Oxon Hill, MD in good ole Glassmanor. Two bedrooms and five people...not the coolest.

Life was real simple though. I'd get up in the morning, somebody would make me a bowl of cereal and I'd watch Sesame St until my mother got up. She'd bath me and either take me upstairs to Jeanette's house for babysitting or to Toy's R Us for a action figure of some sort (I got a new toy EVERY DAY).

Jeanette babysat a lot of the neighborhood kids, but only one would break my toys...her daughter Tameka. It was a never ending cycle. He-Man action figures were like cake to a fat girl-DEVOURED. They were always replaced by either Jeanette or my mother, but it was the principle.

Despite all that, it was soooooo much fun around there. Always had plenty friends and there were NO groups of people who didn't like each other. Even the 2 dudes I fought on a daily basis were cool. We'd play Hide and Go Seek after the fight because that's just how it was.

Everybody went to each other's birthday parties and it was all good. 4th Birthday party.

Now here comes preschool. Old school preschool. I'm talkin' bout they could still give you a whooping. I, not wanting to receive another once I got home, never received one.

On my first day, my mom took me and watched from outside the classroom for about an hour. She didn't want to let go of her baby boy. I shoed her off. If I would've known then what I know now I probably would've begged her to come in for another hug.

I was the best dressed kid in class. While other children wore sweatpants and jeans, I wore slacks, button ups and sweaters. There was really no rhyme and reason to it...I had plenty jeans and sweatpants...I just didn't wear them to school. That ended halfway through the school year when I asked "Ma...how come I have to dress up everyday?" So goes that.

Man, preschool was fun. We got snacks, naps and we got to color...EVERYDAY. We took field trips to the aquarium in Baltimore and to the movies. We had a Thankgiving play in which I played an Indian and we had a graduation. Don't really know what I accomplished by coloring, but I guess it was something.

Preschool was also around the time I discovered girls. There was one in particular I liked too. Her name is Tiana (some of you reading this know EXACTLY who I'm talking about) and she was actually in Kindergarten. I STILL pulled that joant. Well...it was kinda because my sister began to babysit her and if I didn't I would've been lame.

She was a bad influence, so much so that I took some alias little joant to the preschool prom. I was still pressed for her tho. Couldn't wait until I got home from school so we could play house.

Little did I know, how bad that influence would be tho.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Cell Phone Guidelines for Yall

Because all of you have driven my cell phone bill SKY MOFOing HIGH, I've decided to issue etiquette for which to contact me.

1. Do not text me some bullshit. I don't have unlimited texting and will not get it so if you're going to text me something than that info better be REALLY REALLY important. If it's not keep it to yourself or leave it on myspace.

2. Do not call me during the day. If you call me during the day I'm going to think something is wrong because EVERYONE knows I can't talk on my cell at work. Just can't. This goes to the person (will remain nameless) who called me last week while I was work. Now I really thought something was wrong because of the person, but when I answered the phone I heard "What's up...what you doing?" WTF? I'm at work JACKASS.

3. Don't leave voice mails unless your dead or close to it. When people leave me voice mails I really think something is wrong because everybody has my e-mail address or can get at me on myspace. No, some of you have to call me and then leave the most retarded voice messages in the world: "Yo, nigga...you gotta read this on espn.com..." Yo, nigga I'ma bust you upside the head.

Either follow these guidelines or pay my phone bill...REAL SIMPLE.


In other news; watch out real soon for the Autobiography of George Barnette on this here blog. I would like to make it a book, but I'm not (in)famous enough yet for people to interested enough to buy it. So it's coming soon in chapter format and it will cover EVERYTHING. Chances are if you know me...you're going to be in it...I might not use your gub'ment, but you'll know who I'm talking about.