President Barack Obama is under fire for his recent election campaign collaboration album with hip hop artist Kanye West.
The album entitled “If I Ruled the World,” according to an anonymous Obama administration source, is said to be the Commander-in-Chief’s attempt to fall next in line to conjugate with reality star Kim Kardashian, who is rumored to be featured on the LP’s second track, conveniently titled “What an Armenian She-Devil Won’t Do for a Buck.”
The unlikely alliance between the self-proclaimed king of pop and the political giant stuns music lovers and politicians alike and tailgates the president’s second grade-school name calling antics, reaffirming the ever humble West as a “jackass.”
In September 2009 Obama memorably christened West a jackass after the hip hop mogul hammer jacked Taylor Swift at the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards, leaving the country chanteuse to stain her overpriced studded gown with tears of embarrassment.
Is it legal to talk about your fellow brothers and sisters in Christ when it comes to them getting up on the microphone to completely butcher a song on Sunday morning? Seriously, who is more at fault – the soloist for thinking they can sing when they sound more like they’re being attacked; the director/pianist for encouraging the soloist to open their mouth to do anything except eat; or the congregation for hollering and throwing their hands up in deceitful praise when they know what they’re really doing is praying for a miracle for the good Lord to send “mute buttons” down from heaven?
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Some people have problems they never address and are just as screwed up as everyone else. Luckily for them I take time to invest real talk for real people. 
Kats & Kittens, it’s time for a review of this week’s top three pet peeves. 
The list begins with all those cheap asses who insist on putting a price tag on absolutely any and everything. The first question that immediately comes to mind when running into these cheapskates is, “What the hell?” Obviously, no one ever bothered to warn these folks that cheap people don’t get invited to parties, mainly because whoever invites them knows they are going to show up empty-handed and will most likely, no doubt, leave with a doggy bag. They don’t have very many friends because everyone knows a cheap person is too tight on a dollar, so hanging out will likely be reduced to free fun, like the zoo, which of course is the last place a person wants to go when it’s five degrees outside or raining hard enough to mimic a baby tsunami. The same theory applies to the dating game. A cheap person will take you to the lowest starred restaurant on the map, or will buy you the most useless and inexpensive presents during the holidays or any other special occasion if, of course, they muster up enough change to buy you anything at all. 
Pulling up the rear to cheap-ass people are drivers that have no consideration for other drivers…and no, we aren’t referring specifically to cab drivers. Though they are probably THE worst drivers in the world (next to Washington DC subway train conductors), everyone expects them to be lousy drivers. Instead we are talking about folks who aren’t exactly smart enough to be paid for their bad driving. For example, aggressive drivers who cross lanes without using a turn signal; or drivers who refuse to let you cross lanes even though your turn signal has been on since you started your car in your home drive-way; or drivers that drive about 90mph just before coming to a sudden stop for a speed bump; or drivers that pick their nose while looking inside their nostrils in the rear-view mirror instead of focusing on the family of ducks crossing the street; or drivers who drive slower than my Aunt Edna’s bowel movements; or drivers that practice profane road rage just before Sunday worship service; or drivers that blast their music so loud they can’t hear the horns blowing behind them or the people screaming for their lives in front of them; or new drivers; or even worse – old drivers. You all drive me crazy! 
Rounding out the list of this week’s top three pet peeves are people that live in the past. I’m talking about people that have lusted after, fantasized about, pined over, stalked, and/or harped about the person you were years prior to the person you are today. People that are in love with a memory of someone they once knew versus falling in love with the new person you have become. Those people that want you to entertain their life long fantasies about what could have been or what once was instead of the reality of what is now. Those folks must have left their brains in the past if they think that nothing has changed since the passing of about a hundred million full moons. 
Here we are to you know when and what happens now is better than what happened then. Although sh*t will happen much if it could, it’ll all be all right with some insight from Hottywood.
Non-debt paying money borrowers; the folks who only call when they need/want something; the people who stand you up for dates and then make it seem like you were at fault; the folks who monopolize a conversation; the folks who monopolizes a conversation with talk of only themselves; supervisors and coworkers that can’t do their own work; Chinese carry outs that constantly change their menu prices based on the class of their customers; delivery guys that automatically take their tips and delivery fees out of the customer’s total charge and still expect an extra tip after they’ve made you walk to their car to pick up your food; meter maids that dish out tickets in an effort to fill some stupid quota; parents that don’t pay babysitters and day care centers; banks that charge $2.50-$3.95 surcharges for ATM usage; the IRS; the federal government; preachers that use the Lord’s name to cover up their sins; hustlers that charge $20 for a $10 bag; oil and gas companies; booty callers that think you’re good enough for a f*ck but not good enough for a relationship; nightclubs that allow ladies to get in free before midnight but charge fellas full price coverage all damn night; Facebookers and Tweeters who use the social networks to direct message some form of perversion; all Popeyes food chains that overcharge for their delicious, greasy chicken; family members that believe you owe them because of your blood relation; neighbors that borrow your electrical socket(s) when they don’t pay their electric bill; pimps; cab drivers; the DC metro rail system; the cost of city tourism; the $.99 store that charges a 6% tax charge, blatantly discrediting the store’s self entitled name; backstabbing BFFs; anyone that never has any money but always wants to go out to eat; friends that always need a ride somewhere but never offer any gas money; and Lindsay Lohan. 
Monday is here. Now what are you going to do when on a silver platter bad luck is served to you? You may run and you may scream but when you’re wide awake it’s hard to wake up from a bad dream. Lucky for you humor is what I do best. When the odds are against you, Hottywood Helps! 
This act is done by a lot of people and overlooked by many. It goes unnoticed because it’s one of those things no one actually stops to pay attention to, needless to say except the person who keeps working their issues into the convo. The subtle remarks are carefully inserted into related [and sometimes unrelated] subject matters and seemingly come out of nowhere, yet make the biggest silent impact on the person who’s forced to hear it and care even less than they did when the situation remained cohort. 
This may come as a shock to some, but the truth of the matter is more people than you’d think could give a sh*t about your problems because everyone on the planet has problems of their own, so if no one asks you what’s wrong after the fiftieth time you’ve griped about your uninteresting predicament, it’s pretty much common knowledge that no one really cares. Stop imposing and stop whining. Just stop because the person you’re buzzing up has long since stopped listening. The only person who can get away with speaking without actually saying anything is the teacher on “Charlie Brown,” and after a while even a viewer changes the channel. 
If you want someone to know what the hell’s going on with you, tell them. Don’t beat around the bush. Don’t drop not-so-subtle hints. Don’t be slick with it. Most people aren’t going to jump into your business willingly and consciously because they don’t want to be blamed for any dumb decisions you make. Most people aren’t going to comment on your issues because you’ve probably spit out the answers to your own questions anyway. Most people are probably going to look straight through you in an effort to see the nearest “Exit” sign hanging somewhere behind you. However if you’re not careful, one day you’re going to come up against someone that isn’t like most people. And that person will willingly listen to you gloat about the stupidity and/or humdrum that is your life and will turn around and do one or all of the following: (1) Tell you the truth – something you probably don’t want to hear; (2) Tell you, “so what?” – something else that you probably don’t want to hear; or (3) Tell any and everyone all about your business – and in case you didn’t know, your dirt sounds way more interesting coming from someone who isn’t you. The problem is words get twisted when they are spoken from someone else’s lips. But because you insist on monopolizing an unwarranted conversation with someone 
who blatantly doesn’t give a rat’s ass, that’s just the price you have to pay. Whether you learn a lesson or not isn’t anyone else’s problem but your own. On the other hand as we stay true to the subject of this post, that last statement goes in one ear and right out of the other. 
Labor Day may bring a day off but the fate of one’s luck never rests. And out of the many horoscopes and palm readers there are, no one warns you better than Hottywood Helps!
Irene has caused quite a bit of trouble which warrants some humor and on the double. Lucky for you, it’s what I do best or my name isn’t Hottywood Helps!
You found your week wasn’t so bad given the circumstances you had. Now that you know you can handle the deal, let’s see what’s next as we spin the wheel.