Bloggers' Block

It's Memorial Day and I'm sitting here in a T-shirt and sweatpants, halfway watching Young & the Restless. It occurred to me earlier that I haven't blogged in awhile, so I clicked my laptop on. Now I realize that I have absolutely nothing to say.

There hasn't been much going on in my life that's worth talking about. There's the ongoing issue with LeftBehind, but that's an ongoing saga. Oh, I'm one step closer to locking my hair. I went to my hairdresser Saturday and cut most of the remaining relaxer out of my hair ( I haven't had a new relaxer since January) and added micro-braids. It's weird that in order to go natural I have to attach someone else's hair into my scalp as part of the process. Actually, I didn't need to get the braids, but my real hiar shorter than I'd ever seen it before. It barely reaches my ears, if I can remember correctly. So I'll keep these braids in for about a month and then go to locking ... if I'm ready. Mom hasn't taken my switch to natural hair too well, but I'll elaborate on that issue in a later post. (The way my brain's been going lately, it's best to stockpile ideas)

I finished writing a short story yesterday, which is a good thing. It only took me about three days to do this one and I'm fairly happy with it. I've been following the advice of writer Steven Barnes who suggests that anyone trying to write a novel start by writing short stories -- a story a week. Once the stories are written, you have to mail them out to magazines/journals and keep them in the mail until they get published. I've written quite a few stories in this way, but no dice on the publishing. One of the problems I'm running into is that alot of publications don't accept submissions during the summer months. Alot of reading periods have closed in May, leaving me with all these stories and nothing to do but file them away until the winter. I could start writing the novel, but that would be what a logical, thinking person would do. And I don't like to do things that make sense.

Today I'm feeling extremely lazy. It'll take a miracle for me to put on real clothes and leave the house. I have washed and put on clean clothes, but I'm still wearing my glasses and I haven't made my bed yet. I don't have many groceries, so I suppose I'll have to leave eventually if I want to eat something more than Rice Krispies. Ah well. Decisions, decisions.

All I really need to know, I learned in my workplace bathroom

1. Hygiene is important. Not only should you wash your hands, but use paper towels on the door, faucets and any other place that your colleagues may have touched. That person letting rocks in the nearby stall likely will be the one to leave the toilet without soap or water and head straight to the cafeteria.
2. Sharing is always the right policy. The woman you give a tampon to today will be the same one who offers spare change at the vending machine or gossip at the water cooler. It's all about karma.
3. Guard your privacy. Never answer your cell phone in the bathroom. Everyone knows about the HR lady's custody battle because of those loud conversations she has with her lawyer while tinkling in the privacy of her stall.
4. Play the field. Sure, that stall closest to the door may be your favorite. But on those days that it's out of toilet paper or subject to fecal vandalism, you may want to travel down a door or two. Variety never killed anyone.
5. Always carry a spare pair of shoes. If you are going to do something truly foul in the bathroom, go ahead. Don't wait for the bathroom to be vacant. Let it out fully. Don't exit the stall until everyone leaves the bathroom. Once you get out, change your shoes. That way no one will be able to match you and your new shoes with the bowel bandit in stall #5
6. Read the writing on the walls. That guy in accounting could have gotten your phone number if you hadn't read that small note about him near the paper towel dispenser. Thankfully, now you know that 'Johnny' likes to get it up the a**
7. Flush.
8. Don't tattle tale. You know the redhead wearing the tan pumps whose been crying in stall #3 for the last two hours. You may even know why she's crying. But does everyone on your floor need to know? Nope. Keep it to yourself ... and maybe a few close girlfriends who don't work with you.
9. Drink 8 glasses of water a day, but be near a bathroom when you do it.
10. Don't eat the cafeteria pudding. 'Nuff said.

Whatever happened to 'What your man gotta do wit' me?'

I was hit on by the handicapped today. Okay, technically he wasn't handicapped, but if you spend the day sleeping in the library, in my mind, you're handicapped. And I believe the correct term is disabled. But for purposes of this post and for alliteration value, he will be referred to as handicapped. So, I was hit on by the handicapped today.

(Backstory: Earlier this week, a male supervisor who is amazed by black hair and typically compliments me on my hairstyle, was perplexed when I came to work wearing a hat. He asked what the problem was and I told him that it was raining, I had a bad hair day and thus, the hat. He said, “So, that’s why you wore the hat? Because you gave up?” I gave him a harsh look (okay, it was more like a sellout smile) and he slithered away.)

Because I’m a nerd, I spend my lunch break in the library either reading/writing/doing homework. When I went to my usual spot in the back of the room, I noticed a teen-age boy sitting in the chair across from me, fast asleep. I was totally engrossed in my novel (Fortunate Son by Walter Mosely), but I couldn’t help but watch as this skinny redhead tossed and turned in that uncomfortable chair. He woke up about an hour later and asked for the time. I gave him the answer and headed back to work.

Fast forward five hours later. Count ‘em. Five. I went back to the library because I had some time to kill before an evening meeting and Lord knows I wasn’t going to sit in that depressing office. I went to my favorite spot in the library and who do I see? Yep. The Redhead. Looked like he never left. I said something like, “Fancy meeting you here” and he smiled. He didn’t seem to totally understand what I was saying, so I figured he had some kind of mental disability. He asked me what book I was reading and I told him, thinking that was that.

The Redhead then moseyed over to me and handed me a note. I thought that maybe he was deaf and he needed me to do something, or maybe there was a word he didn’t understand in his book. Instead the note said something like this: Question: I know we barely know each other, but I was wondering if you might like to go out sometime. Maybe to a movie or something.

Wasn’t that sweet? The disabled teenager had a crush on me. I wrote back, Thanks for asking, but I think you’re a bit young for me. He sat there for a long time, pondering my statement. He returned with, I’m 25. Not exactly young, dear. I wrote, My mistake. You look much younger. I’m flattered by the offer, but I’ll pass. I handed the note back to him, thinking about alternative excuses in my mind. The next time he passed the note, I would tell him I also had three children with three different fathers and a very angry boyfriend. So I waited for him to return the note.


And waited ….





And waited …



And waited.


He never passed the note back. I mean, I said ‘no’ once so he just wore the hat. WTF? Even a baseball player gets three chances at the plate. Same goes with women. Give us a chance to not only say ‘no’, but also ‘not interested’ and ‘I’m calling the police.’

Way too many guys are wearing the hat nowadays. What happened to guys like Positive K? He chased this girl relentlessly through the streets as she claimed, ‘I Gotta Man’ and he responded, ‘What your man gotta do with me?’ He never got her number, but he gave it is all. And let's not forget Darius in ‘love jones’. After Nina rejected him twice, he did whatever he could to get the digits. And he was successful.

Nowadays, guys don’t have the spine that they used to. They can be fine or ugly, rich or poor, but they don’t want to put in any hard work. They just want to sit back and sleep in the library.

Childless on Mother's Day, Thank God

I gave a little boy the finger yesterday.

I’m not proud of it, but he deserved it. Maybe it’s just me, but it seemed like all the chilluns were acting out on Sunday, the day we celebrate our mothers. My mom was out of town so I was able to avoid the traditional brunches, flowers and cards. (Think I can still get a Mother’s Day card on sale?) So I was able to treat Sunday like a typical day, but I realized something.

I HATE KIDS.

Whew. I said it. When I say hate, I don’t mean ‘hate’ in the true sense. I don’t mean it in the ‘get your kid away from me’ way. Of course not. I mean it in the ‘get your loud-mouthed, snotty-nosed brat away from me before I rip off my belt and go Godfather Pt. II on him/her.’

See, there are kids and there are KIDS. Kids are cute and innocent. They hold their mommy and daddy’s hand and follow directions. KIDS have one finger up their nose, another up their butt and they scream like banshees. They run through store aisles knocking down everything in sight, with their harried parents acting like they don’t know them.

I visited the only place where I’m loved and respected, Targé, aka Target. Everywhere I went, there was a mother pushing a stroller with a screaming child inside. I wanted to grab the poor women by the hands and say, “Isn’t this your day? Toss that lil’ sucker to your husband and run. Run!” But I didn’t, ‘cause I don’t give unsolicited advice.


I didn’t see the KID until I was walking to my car. Actually, I didn’t see him. I heard him, which is how it always is with KIDS. He was the first one out of his family’s car and he shrieked. I turned around and gave him a look like, WTF? He stopped and stared. I think I was the first black person this little boy saw. Which is sad, given the fact that he was at least half black and his accompanying mother and sister were both white. Then he started hopping and screaming, “I YELL LIKE A GIRL” (I don't even want to touch that statement), which emanated through the entire parking lot. Mom tried to calm him down, but to no avail.

I got in my car and he looked at me, and that’s when I mentally shot my middle finger in the air. That’ll learn ‘em. Sometimes you gotta take matters into your own hands when it comes to the KIDS.

Check It

You Are 48% Girly

You're a little girly, a little boyish, and probably a whole lot indie. You have your own unique style, and it pretty much defies gender lines.

How Girly Are You?

David Blaine: Insane in the Membrane

I must start this post off by saying that I am not a proponet of divorce. Quite the opposite -- I feel like this act is something that should be avoided when at all possible. But in the case for David Blaine's wife, I think she should take the kids and get the hell outta dodge.

Truth be told, I don't know if the magician/stuntman/fool has a wife or kids. I read a few years ago that he was engaged to a model, but I was unable to find out if they went through with it or not. I wouldn't blame her if she got tired of him canceling dates because he had to go get buried alive, frozen in time, or go to London to get sealed in Plexiglass. There's only so much a girl can take.

For his latest stunt, this maniac was submerged in a water-filled sphere for a week and then he was going to hold his breath underwater for nearly 9 minutes. He only did it for seven minutes and then had to be rushed to the hospital for liver damage and severe rashes to his skin, among other problems. Does he even have health insurance?

I can't imagine what gets in someone's head to make them behave the way David Blaine does. He was probably the kid in school who paid the bullies to bash his head in and encouraged the crowd to cheer. Masochist.

So there's my assessment. David Blaine is crazy.

Too bad he's cute too.

Black folks tell Akeelah and the Bee to 'Stick It'

I saw a movie this weekend. A good movie, one that made me laugh, cry and just feel good all over. It starred a young black girl in the inner city who was an honor student and aimed to be a spelling bee champ. There were no pimps, ho's, gangs, crackbabies and all that other stuff that seems to pervade in black films. Nope. This was a breakthrough because the movie didn't put black people in a bad light. So I am happy to say that I saw 'Akeelah and the Bee' this past weekend. Too bad I was the only one who did.

Akeelah and the Bee made a lousy $6 million at the box office its first weekend while silly movies such as 'R/V' and 'Stick It' made way more money. I haven't seen the other two movies so I can't say whether they were good or horrible, but sheesh! How often is it that a positive black flick is in the theaters? Never! And then folks want to complain that all our movies portray us in a negative light. That happens because whenever a positive film is shown, nobody goes to see it.

I thought 'Akeelah and the Bee' was a wonderful movie. I'm an Angela Basset fanatic and it was good to see her reunited with Laurence Fishburne again. I shuddered in my seat a couple of scenes because I feared he'd have a flashback to his Ike Turner days and slap her.

Oh well. The movie didn't do well opening weekend and you know what that means. It disappears. Maybe folks will at least catch it on DVD.