equality in accountability

i'm not sure where exactly to start with this one, so i'll just go ahead and dive right in. fair enough? and there isn't even a picture for this post, so you know shit is real!

my childhood was anything but sunshine and rainbows - in fact, it wasn't much like a childhood at all - it was more like storm clouds and battle scars. BUT, even though my parents made constant mistakes and did things that will fuck with my brother and i for the rest of our lives, they still taught us a few important things that made us grown into members of society rather than becoming skid marks on the face of society. i think we all know people that, for whatever reason, are never held accountable or made responsible for anything; the people who have excuses for everything and reasons for nothing. it's like these people, with their woe is me stories and empty excuses, over time have the rest of us realize that we can't hold them to the same standards; that we can't expect anything from them unless they're willing to give it; and that we can't blame them for not meeting expectations or dropping the ball on nearly everything. why is that? why am i held to different standards? why is it that i am expected to follow rules, meet deadlines, and take the blame when the blame really is all mine?

there's someone in particular that i've lost a lot of respect for over the last few years in part because of the message she's sending out into the universe that basically says, "pity me. pity me for everything i can and can't control, even if these are things you yourself receive no pity for. don't expect me to be responsible or accomplish tasks set forth for me by my boss or the world in general. let me whine and say nothing, and when i fail, accept that i will throw someone else under the bus and take no credit for my repeated fuck ups." well, in a nutshell, that's the message i'm getting!

i'm on the verge of... well, homicide, maybe? i kid. but i'm not above screaming fuck over and over at the top of my lungs and telling the dirty secrets of lies and laziness just to get it off my chest. after all these words, my question is still the same, and it's probably one that will never be answered, but really, how do these people not only get by with this behavior, but make it so everyone expects and accepts it? why is there no equality in accountability?

shit got weird with socks.

hello, friends! well, the mother's day ordeal is over, and if i had a bottle of champagne in the fridge, i'd drink a mimosa to that, but all i have is a bottle of cheap wine. and come to think of it, i might just enjoy a glass whilst i sit here eating my salad. i have one of those 20 pound bags of real bacon bits from sam's club and they're delicious on salads. side note, yes, i just admitted i eat meat, which i hear is an offense punishable by death in some blogging circles. well, bring on the guillotine because this bitch is tasty. but back to the point. as i sit here eating my salad with meat in my completely un-chic, squeaky, and old-but-not-in-a-good-way desk chair, i feel i need to do a public service announcement, blog service announcement, whatever. i am not a fashion expert, nor am i designing a collection for the house of danish. no, i'm just a blogger with common sense. there are a lot of "trends" i don't understand, for example: lady gaga anything, girls with bowl cuts, harem pants (i mean, come on, am i the only one who remembers how ridiculous m.c. hammer looked?), and most importantly and offensively, SOCKS WITH SANDALS.

and don't think that walking a llama on a leash exempts you, because it doesn't...you still look ridiculous! just because the socks cost $50 and the open toed super high fashion wedges cost $300 doesn't mean you look any less like an idiot than the stereotypical older male tourist who wears black socks with his flat sandals; the principle is still the same - you defeat the purpose of wearing sandals by putting on socks, and you look like a fucking idiot. not only that, but is my mind in the gutter or is this style a little disturbing on a whole other level? when i see colorful or lacy socks folded over, it reminds me of the kind little girls wear. so in addition to the rest of the ridiculousness, this style, to me, screams, "HEY OLDER MAN, I'M LOOKING FOR PEDOPHILE LOVIN' BUT I'M TOTALLY LEGAL...BARELY!" and that's just nasty.

i'm not without a few skeletons in my trend closet, but i can swear on angel feathers that you will never, EVER catch me wearing socks with sandals. no way, no how. the end.

mother's day shit got real

mother's day, a day of cards, lunches and shopping with mom, right? today shit got real when mr. danish called his mom to wish her a happy mother's day and make an appointment to see her. now, you may be thinking, "make an appointment? what?" yes, an appointment. with his own mother. being a good and loving son, mr. danish left her a voicemail and waited patiently for her to call back. after a few hours of not hearing from her, mr. danish tried again. apparently she got his message, but was ignoring him. what? here's how it went:

mr. "did you get my message about us wanting to see you and having a gift?"
mom "yes, and i went up to mama's."
mr. "but you did get my message?"
mom "yeah." and then some jibber jabber basically saying that there weren't any appointments left.

hey dumbass, this is how you make your son feel, except it's more like a dagger and heart, not a cat and a dog, but i'm keeping it cute, okay? think about that next time.

here's my real theory: the good parents don't talk about how great they are at being a parent, and they don't trash talk other parents. why? because there's no need to, they don't feel guilty about doing anything wrong. the parents who are seriously lacking any sort of parental skillz (yeah, i just used a z to make it seem more legit) are the ones who feel the constant need to remind people that they're good parents and that they love their kids. case in point, my mother-in-law making shit get real on mother's day.

but that's okay. well, i mean, actually it isn't okay. but here's what's going to happen: mr. danish will be pissed for a little while, but i'll make jokes and play around with him to get him laughing a little, and if all goes well, we'll bone make sweet love that will make him forget the negative things he was previously feeling. see bitch mother-in-law, it's zero for you, one for me! i win! (insert evil laugh)

the introductory shit.

hey, you. for the sake of having a name to associate with me, you can call me danish. that's not my real name, but we'll get to that in a minute. my brother started calling me danish when we were young, and since he keeps his shit real, i figure it's as good a pen name as any.

i have another blog, with less real shit, but sometimes it's just cathartic to let it out, you know? it doesn't always have to be bad shit, although sometimes it is, but there are things i want to share than i'm just not sure some of the readers of my other blog would appreciate or understand. for example, "yo mama so greasy she sweats crisco." obviously i'm not talking about YO mama, just a mama in general. or, why do i have to pay taxes so welfare mamas can have babies for free? see how this works?

i've got some real shit to talk about, but for now, my stomach is growling like a werewolf during a full moon, and you can't fight that shit.