I was reading a blog post that Michael Jordan’s gonna be tying up a knot with his lady friend and I’m real glad I came across that. Now, the article suggested a prenup to Michael, if he had to go this kinda distance with her. Being that Ex-Wife made off pretty good, I suppose Michael would wanna keep whatever he’s got coming in to himself, should things go haywire. I suspect him to be a sharp man since he ain’t broke like a lot of athletes that end up with overdraft fees on their checking accounts.
From where I’m sitting, it can be a real awkward moment should, say, I was marrying up with some rich man and he handed me the pen to sign some papers that say I can’t have none of his shit no more should we part ways. Even more awkward should I try to negotiate, “Well, can I at least have the Porsche and the paid-out beach-front property and…?” It’s strange, ain’t it? I guess folk who date folk like that expect a prenup to be part of the package.
Then I got to thinking about my own shit. You know, this fella I dated from way back, maybe a couple of years or so after my own marriage went further south, been trying to pop his head back in mine but I ain’t stuttin’ him, y’all. I mean, he’s a right nice fella but that’s about all I can say on that. Don’t go thinking I’m being mean-hearted on account of me blogging about not wanting him. I can say what I want and don’t want on my blog, can’t I? After all, I did attach niceness to his personality and I can also say he’s a good conversationalist but.
Let me put it to you this way, folks. I’m getting sorted over here to fly out and I ain’t trying to make no deals like if-you-get-back-and-you-ain’t-married-and-I-ain’t-married-we-gonna-get-married. Can’t remember the last time I even saw him and he’s coming at me with some lazy ass deal over the phone. What kinda shit is that? That’s like telling me if we ain’t found who we really want, we gonna settle for each other. Maybe it’s just me though ’cause I think very thoroughly about matters most of the time and I don’t think myself to be a stupid person. I mean, I’ve done some stupid shit from time to time but believe you me, folks, I try to put a period on that. Okay? I ain’t trying to trip on no I dos with him. Shiiiiit. I ain’t that hard up.
Plus, I have to consider what I need to protect on my end over here. Hell, talking about Michael needing a prenup, I got my own ass and sets of things I need to scribble down on a piece of paper too. I’ve got a good running washer and dryer. All these books gotta be worth something with the buy-back program on Amazon. I ain’t even mentioned the ceiling fans that’ll blow the devil himself up outta here to yonder, as though God Himself was on his heels. I ain’t playin’. And I’ve got a spinning spice rack. I don’t need nobody trying to make off with my shit. Hell. He better take that deal to the next contestant ’cause he had to be puffing on some good ass weed when he fixed his mouth to say that to me.
Hmph…Got me on this blog talking to y’all about dumb shit.