Zzzzzzz

Someone please give me a good reason why I should go to work today?

I spent the entire night tossing and turning, cursing that cappuccino that I just had to have yesterday evening. I suspect the caffeine is what kept me awake all night. That and the 2 1/2 mosquito bites I received at my cousin's cookout. I have one on my left elbow, one on my right foot and one somewhere on my right arm that starts to itch sometime after I'm done scratching the other two. Grrr.

In my four-hour quest for sleep, my mind wandered lots of important places. I mentally wrote this blog post while I lay there staring at the ceiling. I even thought of all the productive things I would do today if I took the day off: wash clothes, vacuum, remove the mystery meat from the fridge, read and maybe even write. Yet truthfully I know all I would accomplish would be watching soap operas, reading and attempting to do some writing while getting distracted by a video game. *Sigh* It's hard out here for a chick.

I feel wide awake now, but it's 5:30 a.m. Something tells me I'll be exhausted by 8 a.m., which is when I have to be at work. Maybe by then I'll have a headache and my calling out would actually be a true thing instead of a lie. And I am really coming down with something -- Ned's slowly trying to make a comeback.

I think I know the real reason why I want to call out today. I watched "Clerks" for the first time last night and their slackerishness rubbed off on me. Watching Dante have such a horrible work day on what was supposed to be his day off made me feel like I should get some rest for him. So maybe that's what I'll do. I'll go back to bed in honor of Dante Hicks.

Until next time,
s/c/w

Life on the Blue Screen Pt. II

Dear Netflix administrators,
Perhaps you all misinterpreted my intentions in my last letter. I was only offering a suggestion as a customer, not criticizing your DVD service. But apparently, I've angered you people. You've gone through some guerilla tactics to make sure I don't get my movies and I won't stand for it anymore.

Let's start with The Princess Diaries, shall we? That movie was supposedly mailed to me on a Monday, but it didn't get to me until Friday. In the meantime, you were able to send me The Princess Diaries Pt. 2. How, pray tell, am I supposed to watch the sequel when I haven't seen the original?! So I have to hold onto the sequel until I get the original, thus screwing up my weekly movie schedule.

It doesn't end there. Apparently your shipment facility has some sort of bias against me and/or The Princess Diaries. According to your records, it took SEVEN whole days for the Post Office to deliver the DVD to you? I had to report the movie as lost so you guys would hurry up and send me another movie.

But my latest problem is with "The King of Queens." Because I don't have cable, my TV fades to blue at the most critical times when I'm trying to watch this show. So I figure that instead of putting myself through this nonsense, I should go ahead and order the episodes from Netflix. Big mistake. In the middle of episode three on disc 1 (the "Cello, Goodbye" episode, where Doug thinks Carrie's boss is hitting on her) the DVD decides to go back to the very beginning of the episode, giving me a dizzying case of deja vu. I sent the movie back as damaged and I await the replacement copy.

For obvious reasons, I'm beginning to detect a bias on your part. Do no tempt me to take my monthly $18 service fee somewhere else. That's right, I've had other offers ... I may even go to the big C. Mom told me she'd be willing to pay my cable bill for a year, but I'd have to get a relaxer and change my hair back the other way. Don't make me do it!

Yours in movie love,
s/c/w

Watch Out Steven Spielberg

You Should Be a Film Writer

You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind. You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life. Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling. And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen!

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

I Bet You Think This Song is About You ...

Your 2006 Summer Anthem Is

Dani California by the Red Hot Chili Peppers "She's a lover, baby, and a fighter Shoulda seen it comin' when it got a little brighter With a name like "Dani California" Day was gonna come when I was gonna mourn ya A little loaded she was stealin' another breath I love my baby to death"

What's Your 2006 Summer Anthem?

How I'm Livin'

Because I change my mind almost as often as Angelina Jolie adopts children, I decided to post a little sumthin' sumthin' about how I'm feeling about random things. Yes, this is a lazy way to put a post together. But whatever, I'm running the show. And besides, all these opinions change in a day or so.

Attitude: Confident. Now that I'm used to having short hair, I've got my swagger back.
Perfume: Body by Victoria's Secret
Songs: "Bossy" by Kelis, "Promiscuous" by Nelly Frutado, "Torn" by LeToya, "DeJa Vu" -- Beyonce' and Jay-Z, "Hustlin'" by Rick Ross
Most hated song: "Gettin' Some" by Shawna. Can somebody ban that from the airwaves please?
Lipstick: 'O' and 'Strength' (but of course) by M.A.C.
Artist: Rhianna
Actors/Actress: Meryl Streep. However, Angela Basset is still the G.O.A.T.* The Academy needs to recognize!
TV Show: King of Queens
Hated TV Show: That '70s Show. I mean, isn't it the 80s or 90s by now?
Current fear: That my blinds aren't all the way closed and someone across the street is watching my every move.
Current enemy: Netflix. Those punks owe me two movies!!



**Greatest Of All Times, for those who didn't know.**

I Am Not a <*whisper*> lesbian

Now that my hair is short, I feel like I need to wear a t-shirt that reads, "I like boys." Society views women with short hair as, er, <*whisper*> lesbians, and I’m not. To show that I’m not, I’ve been trying to be as feminine as possible by wearing lots of skirts and dresses, jewelry and more makeup than I’ve ever worn in my life. Ok, so what if that only means wearing lipstick AND mascara, I’m slowly trying to get a message across! I am NOT a .. er… you know….<*lesbian*>. I also retired my ‘Eve was framed’ bumper sticker. That was a bit drastic, I know. But that shows feminism. And to many people, feminism = not liking boys. (Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay .. some of my best friends are gay) So that had to go. I try not to care what other people think, but I have no desire to get solicited by a woman. Ever.

So that brings me to my latest story about my neighbor. The woman who lives next door to me is a… well, you know. I haven’t confirmed that she is that way, but let’s just say she looks more thuggish than the drug dealers in The Wire, dressed in do-rags, sweatpants and wife beaters. We have a polite relationship, meaning we say a simple ‘hello’ in the mornings and occasionally run into each other in the parking lot. I don’t know her name, so I’ll refer to her as The Neighbor. Real original, huh?

I just finished tossing some whites in the dryer when The Neighbor entered our cramped laundry room the other day. There’s two washers, two dryers, and a huge sink in there, but little room for anything else. So I was already struggling when The Neighbor had to walk behind me. Instead of our normal greeting she said, ‘Hey girl’ and I said ‘hello.’ I thought about her words later when I was upstairs folding my clothes. Isn’t ‘hey girl’ a bit familiar? And did she say ‘hey girl’ or was it ‘heeyyyyyyyy, girl’? I mean, the former is reserved for close friends and the latter is something that the fellas scream at women on the street. Did The Neighbor think that my new hairstyle met that I was on her team? Was that greeting her way of welcoming me into the club?

An hour later, I prepared to go downstairs to get my clothes from the dryer. Then I realized I didn’t look appropriate. I had changed from my work clothes into my after work rags. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be a problem, but I need to send a message that I’m not a er, … well, you get the picture. So I changed back into my work gear – a skirt and top – applied more lipstick and raced downstairs.

Apparently, I was too late. The laundry room was empty when I got there and my clean clothes were sitting on top of the washing machine. Apparently, someone had to use the dryer and evicted my clothes once the cycle was done. I was peeved because this load consisted largely of my underwear, but hey, these things happen. I tossed my clothes into my laundry basket and left. Then it occurred to me, was it The Neighbor who evicted my clothes? Was she the one who touched my panties? I flipped through my clothes quickly and couldn’t find anything missing. But I was still unsettled. Now The Neighbor knows what kind of drawls I wear and the color of my bras. Heck, she even knows my bra size! What’ll she say when she sees me now? She’ll go from ‘hey girl’ to ‘how you doin’?’ with a Joey Tribbiani wink. Sigh.

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s/c/w

Life on the Blue Screen

Dear Netflix administrators:
Do you remember me? I'm Strength/Courage/Wisdom, from No Cable Avenue. Surely you remember me shrieking when I called your shipping office at midnight to report that the DVD for Chungking Express wasn't working. Or maybe you'll recall a few of my more infamous phone calls when I was angered to see that there wasn't a new DVD awaiting me in the mailbox? Ah, good. I thought you'd remember me.

I'm writing to address a problem that I have with your service. Overall, I'm happy with my account. I'm on the three DVD plan, which gives me an unlimited number of movies for a month. That comes in handy for people like myself, who, er, have no cable. But I have one major problem that is getting in the way of my viewing schedule -- your staff only delivers movies five days a week.

A break on Sundays, I can understand, since no mail is being delivered then anyway. But no shipments on Saturday? I mean, why come?!!! I do my part -- I watch the flicks and I mail them back, just like you tell me. But there is nothing more frustrating than to return a movie on a Thursday, possibly risking not getting another one mailed to me until the following Monday (meaning it may not get to me until Wednesday). That leaves me with two movies for the weekend. TWO!! I only get about four channels clearly, enabling me to watch endless repeats of "King of Queens" and "Friends". And even those channels fade to the blue screen at the most critical moments, like punchlines. I need your people to work with me here!

I have 37 movies in my netflix queue, not including the three I'll get this week -- "The Princess Diaries," "The Princess Diaries II" and "Hannah and Her Sisters" (forgive me, it's Woody Allen). I'm also wondering if your people would consider getting more things on DVD that's only accessible to cable viewers -- things like the BET Awards, the MTV Music Awards. Or maybe even something from the Style Network? Oh, yes. That would be great! I can't take another day camped out at my parents' place pretending I love them, when I really just want to watch "How Do I Look" and "The Look for Less." You gotta help me!!

I know what you're thinking and the answer is no. I will not go back to cable. I refuse to pay to watch television. My life is so much better now that I've eliminated that factor from my life. But it would be even better if you all made the changes I've suggested. Thank you for your time.


Yours in movie love,
s/c/w

T-shirts & Titties

Boy, I love my family. Sometimes, conversations with my relatives will take the strangest turn. This is what happened when I visited my aunt wearing a t-shirt that said 'highly toxic' on the front. I bought it from this website, which sells a bunch of t-shirts with humorous slogans. Anyway, here's what happened:

Aunt: Nice T shirt.
Me: Thanks. I also have a red one that says 'brat.'
Aunt: Hah! Both describe you perfectly.
Me: Whatever. I was gonna get you a shirt that says 'I shop to fill the void from within.'
Aunt: Right. And I'd get you one that says, 'I write words on my titties just so people will look at them.'

Heavy sigh. Gotta love 'em!

I Am Not My Hair

I never thought I’d say this, but I’m feeling grateful for dirty old men right about now.

Let me back up. I should first say, I apologize for being gone so long. I went on vacation and I couldn’t bear to get on my computer, even if it was to blog. Now that my hiatus is over it’s time to spill the beans on what I’ve been up to. Ready? Here goes …




I CUT MY HAIR



And I mean, SHORT. For those of you who have been following along, I decided to lock my hair in January. I’ve been getting my hair cut and gradually growing the relaxer out. Most recently I was sporting micro braids, which gave my hair a curly appearance. I planned to keep the braids until my hair grew to a reasonable length for locking. But braiding takes all day, so this week I went to my hairdresser (who is also my aunt) and told her to cut off the chemically treated hair that remained and do something with my natural hair. She did and tied my remaining hair up into tiny, gel twists shown here.


I like my new ‘do, but I’ve been feeling a bit insecure because I’ve never had short hair before. And what do I do when I’m feeling insecure? I go see Mom, who has not been supportive of my natural hair journey. Here are some of the comments I got:

“Wow. I mean … wow.”
“Well, do you like it?”
“Wear bright lipstick so people won’t think you’re a boy.”
“Come back when your hair is straight.”
“Yep, you’re really African.”

That’s Moms for you. It’s a good thing I have a sense humor. So far, I’m getting the reaction that I expected from everybody. My mom and stepdad hate it, a few of my friends and my hairdresser say they love it.

While I was on vacation, I was able to see LeftBehind. I learned that he, like most brothas, has a hair issue. He doesn’t know about my natural plans and told me how much he loved the braids. His exact words were, “I’m a big fan of curly hair.” Then I met his mother later, who now has short hair. She says LB was mad at her because she cut her hair. Sigh. If he only knew what was going on with my head.

So I was wondering what kind of reaction I would get from the fellas the first day I went outside practically sporting my scalp. I did a little walk/run around my apartment complex. Now that I have less hair, I wear lipstick and earrings when I work out so I’m not confused for a boy. (Hey, there may be something to Mom’s advice!) I’m running down the street when I see an older man across the street staring at me. I’m wondering if he has me confused with somebody else, because I just know he can’t have lust in his eyes as he stares at lil’ old baldheaded me. But our eyes meet and he looks me up and down and smiles. That was a serious ego boost. It took everything in me not to run across the street and hug him. Sigh. You gotta love the dirty old men. You can be baldheaded, sweaty and downright funky but they’ll still think you’re a queen.

The true test of the hair will come tomorrow, when I’m sure it will scare the White People at work. Like LeftBehind, they liked my hair in the micro braids. Actually, their knowledge of Black Hair is so limited that they’re amazed even when I do simple things, like part my hair on a different side.

It’ll take some adjustment for everyone, me included, to get used to my new ‘do. But it’ll grow faster this way and then I’ll move onto the next phase of my journey, which is the actual locking process. Until then, I won’t leave the house without wearing a dress, earrings or lipstick. Then I’ll stand in my full-length mirror for forever, reciting the chorus to India.Arie’s “I Am Not My Hair.” Yet I know that if I find out that I’m going to see LeftBehind again, I might have to run and get a hot comb or something. I’m not that strong … yet.

(Photo courtesy of http://www.eftal.com/ezimagecatalogue/catalogue/variations/31-400x500.jpg)