Just for the night so we can get right....

The precociousness of children is something I find to be one of God's greatest gifts. They ask questions like it's nothing and will be honest just because it's in their nature. You gotta love the "why" questions and the "because" answers pre-school aged children are good for. Surely, we all asked our parents why the sky was blue and/or where do babies come from, and got answers that we didn't figure out were wrong until we were old enough to find things out on our own.

So allow me to relive childhood one time and ask a question that bothers me to no end; Why do jump-offs try to get friendly with me? Oh wait, the new term for side jawns, jump-offs, and smuts is now "Get Right," courtesy of a co-worker. So yeah, one of my current roommate's Get Rights is trying to get friendly with me, but I must set this story up correctly. One of the new female friends I made recently is this gorgeous chocolate girl who's silly as all hell. So as I was leaving work one day last week, she says to me "my girl says you're mean to her." And I'm scratching my head as if Superhead sat on it, trying to figure out when I met one of her friends. She says "Get Right, she messes with your roommate...she's stupid, she's not the only one he messes with." In other news, water is still wet, shit still stinks, and Bush is stil an idiot.

Gorgeous chocolate girl says that I don't speak to Get Right when she's in the apartment, and that makes her uncomfortable. Well clearly, I make it a rule to never speak to my roommates' paramours, just out of common courtesy. Definitely don't want anyone's sloppy seconds or my roommates thinking that I do. So lo and behold I get a friend request on that college student crack known as Facebook, and who is it? Get Right. So my curiosity got the best of me, and I asked why I got the request treatment. In so many words, she said I give her the "why is this bitch here" look (which is my regular look; I never smile) and that she wants to be friends with his roommates.

Perplexed and wondering if I was indeed being a meanie, I had to run this by my guidance counselor in the endeavors of not being stank, Veronica, and she found it uproariously funny that ol' girl was trying to be chummy with her lover man's roommates. So it ain't just me, y'all.

I'd never throw salt in my roommate's game by letting Get Right now that she clearly ain't the only one to walk out of his room adjusting her bra and drawers with the hoodie, sweatpants and Chinese Slippers on, or as V called it "The Walk of Shame." But clearly, jump-offs don't understand their boundaries anymore. You're there to get dug out by dude and let that be that. No speaking to the roommate, who clearly wouldn't mind a little action, but minds his own business.

Part of me still wonders if I'm being mean, and the old me would chalk it up to the no-nonsense gene handed down from my grandfather. One of the things my grandmother said to me often, which probably endeared me to her the most, was that I reminded her of her husband, the man who was brutally murdered eight years before I was born. James "Bud" Stevens, was a man who was about business, and didn't take kindly to nonsense. I guess that's where my middle name comes from.

However, back to the quandry at hand. I ask you, faithful and sporadic readers of The Post Game Show, is your boy being stank? Could he just bite the bullet of envy and speak to the Get Rights that frequent his apartment? Or is he right in the "do you, and I'll do me" vein? Help me understand what I'm doing wrong, if I'm doing anything wrong. Maybe if I was getting right, I wouldn't be so uptight, who knows?