Hold My Shit

My baby cousin created a Facebook group long ago called 'Hold My Shit'. (Okay, she's not a baby obviously, as she is in college and beautiful and awesome- but she is to me and that is what I call her so just let it go.) The premise of the group/the entire ideal is that sometimes you just need one of your girls to hold your shit while you fuck a bitch up. In theory- it's a brilliant idea and I love it. In reality- it's probably kind of racist as I always tend to pretend to remove my jewelry and ask someone to also take my weave when I *jokingly* utter the phrase. Actually, here are the 'Official' rules so you can decide for yourself: 

1. Whoever will be holding your shit will know beforehand. It is an unspoken vibe usually backed by grievances spoken earlier in the evening. Most people have a permanently designated shit holder. This is a good idea so you're not tits-deep in an altercation with no one to, well- hold your shit.

2. Don't be stupid- before you speak "hold my shit...", the jewelry must first come off.

3. Sometimes a situation calls for throwing your shit and going after that bitch. If you are supposed to be holding someone's shit and instead they just drop it all and go in for the kill, pick it up for them.

4. If you need a way to let a bitch know she's about to get fucked up, "You're about to have to hold my shit..." should instill the fear of God in her. Perhaps so much so, the entire situation might be dissolved, which is alright. You still might want to jump her just to teach her a lesson though. Or for the hell of it. Whatever.

5. "Hold my shit" is a well-rounded way to start the fight. It basically substitutes for "I bet you won't say that again" and "If you have a problem... stand up to me".

Yeah. Um. Anyway...

The truth in the entire thought is that sometimes you really do get to this point in your life where you need one of your main ladies to have your back. Oddly enough, I am not a confrontational person and have yet to actually sincerely need my shit holder. Not that I am a pussy, I just don't generally see the need to get all riled up and in someones face about day-to-day stuff. 

Yesterday however was an entirely different story.

I have just over 20 days left at my current place of employment. 22 days, to be exact. Only 16 of those are going to be in the office. In preparation for my leaving, we needed to make sure a notary was on staff, as my commission expired in June (oops... seriously didn't do that intentionally...) and there is obviously no need for my employer to pay to renew it. Therefore the secretary for my boss' partner (business, not life) was asked if she'd like to do that. It's not like it's a pain or anything- the firm pays for the commission, stamp, renewals, so on and so forth- so of course she said yes. In order to become a notary, you have to fill out an application, answer a few questions, have it notarized and send in to the notary underwriters who make sure you're not a lying asshat and send it to be recorded with your county of residence. *draws in breath* Really, it's not a big deal. But the form DOES have to be notarized. So she asks if I will notarize it. Um, no. Because I am no longer a notary as my commission expired last month, which is the whole reason for doing this... I can't. "Do it anyway" she told me. You should take note here that I said 'told' and not 'asked'. Yeah. Things I Have A Problem With, #29... anyway... again I said no... I CAN'T. I then told her to take the form to a bank, as they make sure at least one of their staff members is a notary, and have them do it. Might be like $10, but the firm would cover. /conversation

Yesterday I was going through the mail and I notice something... something that has my notary stamp on it... next to my 'signature'... not signed by my hand. 

Girl, hold my shit. 

I believe I then proceeded to march back to her office and make the obvious statement that she forged my name AND notarized the forgery with an expired notary stamp... how that was fucking bullshit and I was fucking livid and fucking fuck fuckery fucking goddamnit MAD SOUNDS, then I threw the application at her and rampaged back to my office. I immediately consult my main bitches as to what I should do... and it hits me: GET THE FUCKING APPLICATION BACK, RETARD. So I go, demand her to hand it over (*I* can demand in this situation, as opposed to asking, tyvm) and she says "I'm not going to send it in". Look. YOU ALREADY DID. TO THE WRONG ADDRESS. That is why I found it in the mail today. Give. It. A. Me. NAO. She rips the check off it and hands it to me, and not even 5 minutes later, she leaves. Now remember- we are interviewing people for my job at this point. She was going to be set up for an interview. After she leaves, she sends me a text "Don't set me up for an interview". I fight the urge to send "NO SHIT, SHERLOCK", but I can't help but to think- REALLY? You really thought I would now? *blink blink* Wow... 

I don't think I need to expound upon my anger regarding the entire situation. However, a good rule in life is to not poke a sleeping dragon with a stick. With that said, I'd just love to SEE a fucking dragon, but that's not the point here. The point is that when a bad situation has finally lulled, don't stir the pot, dumbass. You could apply that little tid-bit in this situation by saying maybe you shouldn't contact the dragon asking if it was still going to give you silent treatment if you happen to come into the office today because you are sorry and just couldn't stand to be ignored. Yeah. Not a good idea. Because I think the dragon would probably tell you it probably has nothing to say to you and no longer wishes to acknowledge you have any semblance of a place in its life- personal or professional- and apology is accepted, but you just need to go on with your lying, forging self.

Just saying, that's probably how it would go if I had to venture a guess.