Tag Archives: motivation

3 Reasons Why I Didn’t Start Playing The Lottery After My Uncle’s Winnings

I didn’t want to write this. I didn’t want to write this because I don’t want to be responsible for my uncle having 964 new cousins. But I have to write this. I have to write this to flush these annoying thoughts out of head in hopes of this shit sticking to the page. Thoughts like, “If I had that money I would buy this, I would buy that. I would do this, I would do that.” Why the hell am I counting and spending another man’s money?! I only did this probably twice in my life and the thoughts were in passing, but this time it’s been consistent ever since I was told. I know of millionaires and billionaires, but the key words are “know of.” I don’t truly know them. I never met them. I don’t know if they look like their pictures, if they’re shorter in person, if their breath stink. But this hit closer to home. A home I’ve been to countless times. A home I’ve spent the night at. A home I’ve spent holidays at. A home with a backyard I’m scared to go in because of a big ass black dog named Missy. Please, somebody tell me! What is this phenomenon called? Where something impactful (bad or good) happens to a relative and you think it happened to you too, like y’all share the same body, the same mind, the same lifestyle. It’s weird. And people, please take a harder look at your junk mail. I was cleaning up and shredding papers when I came across a check from a settlement payment. I was a Settlement Class Member in a class action lawsuit from the time I was employed at this warehouse. By the time I saw the check it was 3 weeks passed the 150 days I had to cash it. Only $13.07 but I needed that little money to go with some other little money to make some little big money, ya feel me? Sigh. Without further ado …

He deserved it.

He has a history of winning. In the mid 2000’s, he was rewarded $20,000 from a court settlement due to a job-related incident. Weeks after his recent lottery winnings of a half of million, he played again and won thousands. In the 90’s, he won over the heart of a woman who keeps my heart clogged up with lasagna and cheesecake: my aunt. Unfortunately, he also has a history of loss. In the early 2000’s, I lost my cousin, their first child together. 3 years ago, they were displaced after their apartment unit went up in flames.

I don’t believe in it.

The only time I ever used a coin, a key, a fingernail to scratch off a lottery ticket is when this car company sent me some mail that said if I get wam-wam-wam in a row I would win a truck. During this time I was naïve to marketing tactics companies use to get foot traffic in their store, so, of course, I got excited when I got wam-wam-wam in order. Know the first person I call? My favorite aunt. She took me to the dealership and I expected to leave off the lot in separate cars. The only thing I left with I didn’t come with was a sucker. No, seriously, they gave me some candy. I didn’t understand the symbolism behind that then, but as of writing, you better believe I do. Although, buying lottery tickets won’t break the bank it’s something I don’t want making my bank either. This has nothing to do with the horror stories you heard about past lotto winners. I’m an entrepreneur and I feel I have a better chance at selling a million scratch devices. Let me pitch you! What do you think of a newly designed coin used solely for scratching off the UV ink on lottery tickets? Instead of dead presidents and monuments no one really visits, how about on the front of the coin it’s a past lotto winner and on the back of the coin it’s a gas station? Insanely great, right? This will be your lucky coin, your lucky charm! 100 on 4 please!

It’s my way of pretending I never heard the news to begin with.

I’m not asking which convenience store he went to. I’m not asking which numbers he played. I’m not trying to act like I didn’t get mad that time he splashed water on me at the pool. I’m not trying to remind him of all the times he playfully asked me to borrow money when I was a kid. I’m not trying to sit around talking about basketball all day and how much I love LeBron James (I will confess my love for the King to any peasant). I’m not trying to educate my aunt on how dirt is more conspicuous on black cars and offer to wash her new Camaro, annnnnd ask to go for a spin in it. I’m not trying to babysit my cousin (their surviving child). My grandma never came over to my place that day and the first thing she said to me after not talking to me in 2 weeks was not “My favorite son-in-law just won $440,000 playing the lottery.” It’s none of my business! It’s none of my business! It’s none of YOUR business, woman!

Would you start playing the lottery after a family member won a significant amount of money? Why or why not?


You’re kidding me, you’re stoned? 

Out of town dinner


My grape soda broke.

I tried to get up and piss out the shattered glass.

But I struggled to get out of bed like a pregnant woman.

No wonder they compare the two pains.

But this isn’t about a hand not wearing a mitt while taking a bun out the oven.

No, this is about a man posing with his hand on his hip like a …

My least favorite suffix is E-R.

Hospitals should run like hotels. Be caring and grant pillow mints, please!

Because, although, I had a reason to be hunched over this time, I’ve been like that on visits. I mean, old people smell funny. Gets me weak and brings me to my knees like a good laugh.

I stopped filling out the application at birthday.

The identifying information reminded me of the time that Gatorade didn’t make me feel like a champion.

That time I was paying myself a visit when I  should’ve been paying my sis-sis-sister one. Grrr.

When I started thinking about the out-of-pocket expenses because I didn’t have insurance, I suddenly began to feel Grrr-eat.

I stood up, shoulders relaxed, back straighten, chest poking out and walked out of there like Mark Zuckerberg in The Social Network.

I haven’t had to go back in the 7 months since but if I don’t surround myself with water like a Winklevoss twin I’ll be back before you know it.



Are You Okay, Annie? 

Based on true story

I was crying in the corner like a child in time-out when someone placed their hand on my shoulder, asking in a high-pitched voice, “Annie, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?”

“No, I’m not okay!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just fussed at a kid in the clinic. It’s probably gonna cost me my job.”

“What happened?”

“This kid has a special voice disorder, which causes her to repeat stuff.”

“This is what Speech Pathology is all about, Annie.”

“You don’t understand. The thing the kid keeps repeating is “You won’t stay little forever.”


“That’s what my mommy use to always tell me when I was a little girl, before she … before she …”

The tears maybe blinded me from seeing who I was talking to, but they didn’t make me deaf to what they said next.

“Well, Annie, you gotta do something dramatic to make that child repeat something else. Some other sentence. You can do it ! You can do it! You hear? Annie, you can do it!”

I showed the kid Good Ole Betsy, the car I’m living in. All of my things are in there: clothes; shoes; underwear.

Then I showed the kid a physical address, a place where my grandma lived before moving back to New Jersey. An address that’s on my license. A home my job has no clue a soul lives in.

Next I showed the kid a random public restroom, a place I hope no one walks into while I’m taking a wash-up.

Lastly, I showed the kid a 24 hour coffee shop, a place where I read and work on stuff that I’ve been putting off. A place where I fight sleep, something I lacked for the past 2 weeks. I like to think that I’m head-butting sleep as my head bobs forward. Aha!

“What do you got to say now, kid? Does this look like something a child would go through? I wish I was still that little girl, but I’m not, and I’m going through some real trials and tribulations. Some real adult shit! What do you got to say now?”


“Nothing, huh?”

Then as I’m turning away, I hear …

“Your mommy loves you!”

“Who said that?!”

I start looking at other customers in the coffee shop. But it wasn’t them!

“Your mommy loves you!”

It was the kid.

“Whaa-whaa-what are you saying?!”

“Your mommy loves you!”

The little girl took my hand and walked me outside the coffee shop. She points at the sky. I see a shooting star. The little girl is jerking her finger back and forth as if to say, “Follow it.”  Call me cray cray, but I jumped in Betsy. I almost had a few accidents because I was looking at the sky more than the road.

Where is it? Boom! I heard a loud crash! Oh my God! Did it land?! I followed the noise and the long black smoke trail. I didn’t wanna get too close because I knew I would be getting out the car. It conveniently started raining, which extinguished the fire. Side by side, holding hands, me and the little girl walked closer to the crash site, a grassy field, but still kept a safe distance. We waited. And waited.  Then waited some more.

“Your mommy loves you!”

“How did you throw your voice like that? It didn’t sound like you were standing right next to me; sounded like you were a few feet in front of …

The last thing I remembered before the tears blinded me was the little girl excitedly jumping up and down, violently jerking her fingers back and forth, pointing at something … or someone!

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