I Just Can't With Omarosa, I Can't

I've been going back and forth for a few months now debating whether I should write something about Omarosa. Like do I really want to give my creative energy to this?

I find myself asking myself some questions (which is actually the norm) since I overthink everything!

Can I churn something out quickly enough while she's still a topic in the news? Is it even relevant?

Each time I answers those questions with "no," the good Rev. does something else to be relevant again with the most recent being the announcement of her return to reality television. She's on her "please forgive me for I have sinned" tour talking about "it's not my circus, not my monkeys." I CAN'T! That child is the ringmaster. She might as well work for Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey. Those poor women on Big Brother have no idea they're getting set up for the slaughter in the name of women's solidarity.

On the real, how long do you get to stretch out fifteen minutes of fame? It's been fourteen years.

I've really been trying to stay off her head 'cause I usually don't come for a lady, but Omarosa earned this read. It's been a long time coming. I hope Symone Sanders forgives me, but I'm sure Don Lemon would enjoy this petty read.

Seriously, somebody needs to reach out to her "Woman to Woman" style like "Omarosa, this is Shirley..." and tell her, "Honey, you tried it!"

Miss Thang has been over the top, flat out extra since before The Apprentice. Her antics at Howard University are well documented and aren't hearsay. Usually, I would never say this about another HBCU graduate, but I wish "The Mecca" would rescind her like USC did Reggie Bush.

Her behavior time and time again upholds the theory that just because you're educated doesn't mean you're smart. She's probably that 3-degree holding co-worker that everyone loves to hate. You know, the one, that doesn't know how to fill out a FedEx slip and enlists everyone in the office to help 'em.

Omarosa is the living, breathing embodiment of "all my skinfolk ain't my kinfolk." It has to be a new low (somebody check with the ancestors) when you get the boot and black folks are out here rejoicing, singing, "oh, happy day!" The only thing we've celebrated more in recent months was Doug Jones defeating Roy Moore and Marvel's Black Panther.

I swear something is wrong with your entire molecular structure when Robin Roberts, (one of the most professional people on earth), gives you the side eye on national television and hits you with a "Bye Felicia!" Robin might as well have hit her with the Puffy "take that, take that, take that" with that verbal two-piece and a biscuit.

Omarosa deserves every drag she gets on Black Twitter. She's been out here living her life like a summa cum laude graduate of Orenthal James University (minus the murder charges of course). At least O.J. made it clear-- "I'm not black, I'm O.J."

HER, (yes, I'm channeling Bernie Mac's nieces and that one nephew 'cause I'm tired of saying her name) on the other hand, tries to justify her behavior by the blood of Jesus and the desire to uplift "my people." I agree "my people" need to be uplifted, and as a member of this collective known as "my people," I'm going to say this here...if my upliftment is contingent on her, just let me drown. Just let me go ahead and turn up my toes and go on to glory. Being with my Heavenly Father would be easier.

"The people" (as she likes to call us) despise her like avocado toast and chicken without seasoning. I think she's surpassed the level of hate that Robin Givens (and her Momma- she gets thrown in there too 'cause it was a tag-team effort) received when Givens married Mike Tyson. Don't nobody like her. Some black men think she killed Michael Clarke Duncan (I didn't say it was rational), call her "Oma-HOE-sa," and black women...WELL! Let me say this! Black women, especially professional black women, have malice in their heart for her. She perpetuates the angry black woman stereotype regardless of whether you're educated or not. Sistahs have it hard enough as it is, with friends like Omarosa who needs enemies, just ask April Ryan (check out the podcast with Angela Rye -- it spills all the tea & gives ALL the cackles you need).

I think she watched one too many Disney movies. THINGS, you are not Cinderella or a princess and your husband is definitely not the frog. Omarosa has conveniently forgotten about the "other talk" that was given to every single black person when they were growing up: the "you can't do what they do" conversation. The one those outside the community didn't become familiar with until they saw Daddy Pope and Mama Pope break it down for the masses on Scandal. I know HER got that Word, but decided SHE didn't want to believe that Word. Now because of her delusions of grandeur, Omarosa is one of the many reasons you can add to the "why black people can't have nice things" list.

It was bad enough that she was coonin' and cappin' for the "Candy Corn Kremlin," but obviously she forgot the rules of engagement once she became "the token." When you look around the conference room and realize "one of these kids is doing its own thing, one of these kids is not like us," your face is the only one with melanin, that's when you know you're playing chess not checkers. And clearly, Omarosa was not living out her The Spook Who Sat by the Door fantasies. Ole girl got invited to the 1% party and clearly forgot her role. The invite was to the party, not for a seat at the table. HER forget she was the high paid help. "You is smart, you is kind, you is important." That was the job; feed Chump Trump the line.

Regardless of how much Omarosa is despised by not only black people, but by most people, everyone recognized her come up on a job that paid almost $180K a year and nobody knows what she did. That's the definition of every employees dream come true. You don't kick that gift horse in the mouth. You go find your corner, chill, and collect your coin since you've already sold your soul.

But Omarosa couldn't even do that right. She had her bridal shower at her place of employment. It ain't Take Your Daughter to Work Day up on Pennsylvania Avenue. Some things you just don't do! You know her arse got called to HR. But she couldn't leave well enough alone and showed up after her wedding with bridal party in tow to her job once again, but this time to take pictures. Like for real, where they do that? Go ahead add her to the list of reasons "why wypipo don't want us at nice places."

Honestly, somewhere in the remnants of her mind she had to know things weren't going to end well with her and The Orange Dude. They hadn't three times before! Why, why does she keep committing herself to this toxic, abusive relationship? She's in need of an Iyanla, Fix My Life (actually that would be an episode worth watching...an OWN producer needs to get on that). Someone didn't give her that sage wisdom when you work for and with crazy: "treat that job like today is your last day." Instead when the inevitable happened, Omarosa was out her doing the physical interpretation of Jennifer Holliday's "You're Gonna Love Me!" I know her family is so shamed!

And the debates...if I hear one more black person on social media talkin' 'bout she can get invited back to the cookout once she spills the tea on "Cheeto-in-Chief"; HELL TO THE NAW, NO! Like a 2-year old toddler stomping its foot NO! 'Cause "my people" are out here "reclaiming our time" and "ain't nobody got time for that!"