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Monday, December 31, 2007
(Photo from http://www.stardustparkhill.com/maryland_web_designers_new_years_eve.jpg)
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
However, this year I had the pleasure of being sick once again. This time it wasn’t anything majorly serious, just a cold. But a cold that came with a fever, chills, sweats and severe loss of appetite. It pissed me off to the high heavens. But the fact that I have an idea where I contracted this cold makes it even worse.
See, we had an office party last week. This was not the traditional party my job normally throws – instead of going to restaurant and eating and drinking to our heart’s content, the cheap powers that be decided to have an alcohol-free office party. My colleagues and I weren’t too happy about it, but we endured.
There was a ton of food there and I was particularly interested in the crockpot of meatballs. I suspected that my coworker, Jane, a master chef, fixed the meatballs since I saw her lugging in a similar crockpot earlier in the day. I fixed myself a meatball sandwich and devoured it until my heart’s content. Good times. It wasn’t until much later did I learn that Daisy, my sniffling, sneezing, hygienically challenged coworker, cooked the meatballs. Already, I could just picture her blowing her nose over the crockpot, filling it with all of her germs. But it was too late – I already ate her meal.
It took three days for my cold -- The Meatball Virus -- to fully incapacitate me. I blew my nose so many times that my nostrils turned red. My eyes watered so much, people thought I was touched by the Holy Ghost. My voice got so deep and raspy that I sounded a bit like Tone Loc must sound first thing in the morning. I infected others, too. People who were brave enough to come near me came down with fevers, sore throats and laryngitis. My illness is the gift that just keeps on giving.
I was supposed to work on Christmas Eve, but because of my condition, I was more than happy to call out sick. I spent the entire day in bed, wishing I could taste my food. The only thing that kept me sane was watching the first season of ‘Prison Break’ on dvd. The main guy, Wentworth Miller, really didn’t do anything for me until I started watching the show. They have this one episode where they cut off two of my boys’ toes. The doctor stitches him up and asks him if he is okay and he says, “toes are overrated.” That is the kind of man I need in my life. What dedication! Now I just have to move on to season 2 and see what other surprises he has for me.
Anyway, I hope everyone had a happy holiday! I’m still recovering, but I’m back at work and I hope to be able to breathe through my nose sometime soon. Hooray!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
This may not be news to most people, who have already sent out their holiday cards, done their shopping and decorated the house. But it is news to me. See, I’m that person who refuses to believe that the holidays are here until one of two things happen. I hear Run DMC’s “Christmas in Hollis” on the radio or the local networks start playing “Shaka Zulu.” Well, imagine my surprise when I turned on the radio the other day and heard Rev. Run rapping about chicken and collard greens. (Side note: One day during the holidays, I’m going to go up to New York’s Hollis Avenue and eat chicken and collard greens, just to make things interesting. Anybody with me?).
Most people consider films like “It’s A Wonderful Life,” “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” and “A Christmas Story” as true holiday flicks. But growing up, my holiday movie was “Shaka Zulu.” (And I’m talking about the original, not the remake with Grace Jones) Every December, the local networks would air the gazillion part miniseries detailing the life of the Zulu chief. I watched every year, even though I didn’t understand what was happening and the Witch Doctor gave me severe nightmares. It wasn’t until much later that I understood everything that was going on in this movie, from Shaka’s rise to power to his subsequent downfall. Unfortunately, the networks stopped airing it years ago. I’m tempted to get it on DVD, just to reminisce about old times. RIP to Henry Cele, who gave an amazing performance as Shaka.
Anyway, I decided to bust out with the holiday decorations the other night. This is a big deal for me, since I haven’t decorated in years. Back in the day, I used to distribute Christmas cards, trim my little fake Charlie Brown Christmas tree and have a miniature tree at my desk at work. But that was before I added my cat, Simba, into my life. He was so hyper that I was reluctant to put up anything that he might destroy. He has mellowed out in his old age, so I figured I’d bring the Christmas spirit into my home.
The decorations took me all of five minutes. Do you know what they consist of? My black Santa Claus, that gyrates his hips to “Jingle Bell Rock,” and an 18-inch faux tree that sits near my coffee table. Awwww yeah.
Merry Christmahanukwanzakah everybody!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
My Mom is always the one that’s truly in the holiday spirit. It’ll be just the three of us celebrating, so she may make us go around the table and list something that makes us thankful. Right now, the only things that cross my mind are selfish and silly things that I’d rather mention here than to my family. So here goes.
I am thankful for ...
-The new coat I bought from Target last night. It’s very rare for me to go into a store intending to buy something and actually finding something that I like. Good stuff!
-Catching the old school song of the day while running out for lunch today. The dj played “Before I Let You Go” by Blackstreet. That truly took me back. I remember that video because Omar Epps (a member of my harem) was in the vid, along with Shari Headley (Coming to America), who was my favorite soap opera actress at the time.
-The 70 degree weather. It means that I have no need for this new coat today and I’m suffering in my non air conditioned car, but still … it feels good.
-That I get to watch “Razor” on Saturday with a fellow BSG geek. We may also fill up the day watching “Hostel II” and “Hot Fuzz”
-The white girl who shares my cubicle wall. She’s a preppy, private school, New England-bred gal. Her mom’s birthday is on Thanksgiving and she told me that she’s buying her Kanye West’s cd because “she just loves Kanyeezie.” My jaw fell open.
-Alice Smith. "For Lovers, Dreamers & Me" is on constant repeat.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
----------------- Original Message -----------------
no skool i gotta go lol peace i was just talkin 2 my gf
Allow me to translate that. Basically, he's telling me to calm down because he doesn't have school tomorrow and the only reason he was online was to talk to his girlfriend. But once again, no punctuation. Call me old school (school!! not skool!), but I need a subject, verb, and predicate in my life.
Another time, the Sixth Grader sent me a message asking me how I was doing. I responded and this is what I got back.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
can i be on your top.even know i'm aloud, don't tell my mom or (freshman) that i was on mysace.don't ask!
Again, allow me to use my bilingual skills to translate. What he meant to say was, (insert British accent here) "Hello, my beautiful and enchanting cousin! I was wondering if you would give me the honor of being one of your top friends on Myspace. My mother and brother are aware that I am on this site, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this message to them. Cheers!" Instead, I got a muddled mess. Where is the question mark in the first sentence? And didn't he mean 'allowed'? I can forgive the 'mysace' as being a typo, but as for the rest ..... ARGHHHHHH!!!! (Of course, his parents are aware of this convo and for unrelated reasons revoked his myspace privileges).
I may have to start a one-woman literacy campaign. I haven't seen my cousins in quite awhile, but the next time I do, we're going to have some spelling practice. I refuse to allow them to become statistics!
(Photo from http://www.ticketspecialists.com/theater/images/25th-annual-putnam-county-spelling-bee.jpg)
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The problem is -- I am not a patient woman. I listened to one of my stations on Pandora.com the other day and they had the nerve to play Max's "Ascension (Don't Ever Wonder)." It took everything within me not to keep from falling out of my chair. Oh, Max. It was so good to hear his voice again.
Now I'm back to checking his website and Google, to see if I can get even a mention of a cd release date. Hopefully, I'll get some news soon. It's so hard to be dedicated, especially when there are so many men out there who deserve my appreciation.
(Photo from http://z.about.com/d/randb/1/0/Y/5/-/-/Maxwell.jpg)
Monday, November 12, 2007
Friday, November 09, 2007
I am pissed off. Frustrated. Annoyed. Aggravated. Sad. I'm trying so hard not to be bitter, but I am losing that battle. And today was definitely not a good day to listen to Phyllis Hyman on pandora.com, but I did it anyway.
I wonder why I even bothered to do the "right" things in my life -- get a degree, good job, wait until I'm married to have kids -- while it seems like everyone who does the opposite gets everything I want.
I am tired of being described as "sweet" and "the girl next door", by men who are screwing the chick around the way, the one they don't even like, just because she's ready, willing and able.
I want the folks from Trojan, Durex, LifeStyles, etc. to do a national demonstration on how not to make a condom break. But would anyone show up?
I wish I could direct my anger at the right target.
I wish there was no such thing as too good to be true.
I wish I could say I never felt this bad before.
Tonight, I will ...
Sit around in my pajamas and use up every tissue packet in sight.
Watch Grey's online and lust after McSteamy. (McDreamy's played out).
Drown my sorrows in burnt popcorn and cherry flavored Kool-Aid.
Cheer on "Dexter" as he chops people into bits and tosses them into the ocean.
And tomorrow, I will put on my fake smile and go about my business. I know things will get better. They have to.
(Photo from http://erkansaka.net/blog/archive/Metallica-StAnger-thumb.jpg)
Sunday, November 04, 2007
The rules of the game are:
A). Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog...
B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself...
C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs...
D). Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
Okay...my seven facts are:
1. I can't stand to see dirty dishes in the sink. However, that doesn't make me a neat freak. I simply hide them in the microwave until I get around to doing them.
2. I have a serious collection of Archie Comic Books. I even have some issues that go back to the 1960s and 1970s, thanks to my old science teacher, Mr. Moy, who gave me his old comics. Thanks, Mr. Moy!
3. My favorite color is red. It makes me happy and I think the color makes everyone look better, particularly me!
4. People with restless leg syndrome really bother me. There is something about seeing someone's leg twitch constantly that makes my skin crawl.
5. I have a bit of an addictive personality, particularly when it comes to the Internet. If I haven't checked my email or blog comments several times a day, something is wrong with the world! It's a good thing I don't have any really bad habits.
6. I recently got cable again after going without it for nearly two years. It's a whole new world!
7. When I was a little girl, I wrote to several celebrities in hopes of getting their autographs. My collection includes autographs from George Burns, New Edition, along with several astronauts and comic book creators.
**Bonus: I have this intense fear of running out of toilet paper. Whenever the stash is dwindling -- as it is now -- I run to the store in a panic.
And there you have it. Now I'm tagging Andy, Naysue, Camille, Eclat, Juicy, Motown Runner Girl and Nicole.
Monday, October 29, 2007
All this sex education didn’t give me any time to ask questions on my own and I got through adolescence avoiding Mama’s worse fear – teenage pregnancy. Now that I am a full-fledged adult, I’d like to think (or hope) these conversations about sex with Mama would stop. Every now and again, she’ll scream to me about how I should be careful and not become an unwed mother. Other times, her messages are more subtle, like this conversation I’m about to describe.
I went to pick up Mama from her hair appointment. Normally, this is a hilarious thing, especially since the hairdresser is my Crazy Aunt. They like to pick on me and I can take it, most of the time. This time, I was grateful for two things: 1. that the shop was empty aside from us and 2. that I had my iPod with me.
Mama: Strength, your stepfather wants to know what kind of birth control you’re using.
Me: Wha-What? Why does he want to know?
Mama: We were watching the news and they mentioned all the side effects that this one form of birth control causes. All of a sudden, he was like, ‘Strength’s not on that, is she?’
Mama: I told him that I had no clue what kind of birth control you were on. Heck, I don’t even know if you’re on birth control.
Me: I wish ya'll would just stay away from my ovaries.
Mama: I’m just saying. We’re looking out for you! It’s not like you tell me anything. What about you, Crazy Aunt? Do you know what form of birth control my daughter is using?
Mama: Knowing her, she’s probably got an IUD. Maybe that’s why she’s so evil all the time.
Crazy Aunt: Believe me, that’s not why she’s evil.
Crazy Aunt: Oh, you know why. Don’t make me spell it out for you. When’s the last time this girl got some?
Mama: Hmmm. There was that one stupid guy she bought around. What was his name …
Mama: I dunno. That’s why I’m asking you.
Crazy Aunt: Well, she does make those trips out of town and you know it’s not just to see friends. You know how she likes to go to the Midwest.
Mama: Oh yeah! I forgot about that fool.
Mama: Don’t say that! You know I don’t condone that kind of behavior.
Crazy Aunt: Whatever.
Mama: I just need to make sure she’s safe. And …
Crazy Aunt: We know! You’re not ready to be a grandmother.
Mama: Thank you.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
(Photo from http://www.flyglobalmusic.com/fly/archives/Sara-Tavares.jpg)
Monday, October 22, 2007
It isn’t until a supervisor walks by and gives me a compliment, do I realize what day it is. (This is a supervisor whom I dislike on a professional level, but I imagine her being cool outside of work). She tells me that she likes my hair and that she can tell I just got it done. I thank her, but then I start thinking, WTF? Yeah, I did get my hair done over the weekend, but what was wrong with it last week? Is she trying to tell me that my hair is busted? Like she, of all people, needs to talk about anyone's hair! Then the woman who sits on the other side of my cube makes several phone calls to tell everyone about the 16 bags of leaves she and her hubby had to carry over the weekend. I swear, I had to listen to the story about the 16 bags 16 different times, including the time she told me about it when we walked in. I’ve barely drunk my first cup of tea before I close my eyes and make an honest to goodness pledge to punch her in the throat if she mentions them damn leaves one more time.
And that’s when it hits me. PMS.
Ladies, you know what I’m talking about. Those days when nothing goes right and you find yourself doing everyone in the vicinity bodily harm. Today, I’m in the constant state of waiting and anticipation. Days like this, I know it’s going to come, feel it’s going to come and I race to the bathroom several times only to realize that it hasn’t come. Sigh.
Today, I could split the jugular of a male colleague who tried to talk to me as I nearly fainted from mind-boggling cramps. I mean seriously, James, now is not the time for you to brag about how you beat me in fantasy football yesterday. If you value your life, and that of your descendants, you will back away from me with a quickness. Naturally, I don't say this but I think it, real hard. And he backs away. I’m so glad.
This evening, I will deal with a combination of my thrilling research class and Trudy. And theoretically after that, I’m going to be meeting up with a former coworker who has since moved out of the state and is gracing us with her presence for one night only. Theoretically, I’m going to be prim and proper throughout the night. At least that’s the hope. Cuz if anyone acts up tonight, I promise to rip the 2-liter Pepsi from Trudy and toss it in the face of anyone who gets in my way. Today ain’t the day folks. Back away!!!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
The next time I get the bright idea to register for a Monday night class, I'm going to look up this post and read it 1,000 times until I talk myself out of it. Seriously, this is what.... the eight week of the semester? ... and I'm already about to hurt someone.
My problem is that the class I need is only offered on Mondays, 4:30 p.m. to 7:15 p.m. And it's a research class, which is a code word for boring. My task in this class is to do a research paper on George Sand and give a 15-minute presentation on my work by the end of the semester. Writing the paper is no problem -- my thing is that I hate oral presentations. I'm glad we only have about 10 student sin our class, but I'd much rather turn in my paper, take an exam and roll outta there. But that's just me.
Anyway, I've learned that each semester there is one student in class that I want to assassinate. This time it's this girl, Trudy. (I have no idea what her real name is, but she looks like a Trudy to me). Trudy is an interesting character. Each day, she comes to class wearing a black scarf -- I'm pretty sure its the same scarf each week -- and lugging a 2-liter bottle of diet Pepsi. She spends each class either drinking her Pepsi straight out of the bottle or asking the professor questions that have nothing to do with the subject at hand. There have been several times that we could've left class early if it weren't for her endless comments about the state of British literature, followed up with her loud, caffienated burps. Luckily, I've been able to zone out during those times that she gets overly annoying. On those days, I imagine myself dancing on her face while wearing golf shoes. And for whatever reason, that fills me with extreme joy.
Well, I hope the Monday night stress explains a little bit as to why I've been MIA lately. I'll try to do better with the posts, as long as it doesn't interfere with my 'thrilling' research. So far, I'm still sane. Check with me again in December, which is when I may truly lose my mind or make that golf shoe fantasy a reality. I'm hoping for the best!
Sunday, October 07, 2007
The next person who suggests a TV show to me is going to get a swift kick in the stomach. I mean it. TV is stressing me out and it has got to stop.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I can be a bit on the obsessive side. When I like something, I REALLY REALLY like it and I want others to feel the same way. I also have this insane habit of wanting to be able to contribute to any conversation I stumble across. That combination does not bode well for the plans I made to watch less television.
For awhile, I was doing well. I had my must see viewing list and nothing else. If it wasn't "Lost", "24", "How I Met Your Mother", "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit," "Ugly Betty" or "Grey's Anatomy", it wasn't getting watched. Yeah, I stumbled a bit with "Dancing With the Stars" and "America's Next Top Model," but for the most part I stuck with the plan.
Things changed when a few of my coworkers started talking about their new favorite show, "Heroes." They said it was much better than "Lost," a show I love to hate, so I said I'd check it out. Sure enough, this show rubbed me in the right way and got added to the list.
A few of my must see shows got dropped -- 24 killed off my favorite characters, I kept forgetting about How I Met Your Mother and SVU. I was fine with that, until my friend, Dee, appealed to my inner teenage white girl and tossed "One Tree Hill" my way. I watched most of the old seasons on dvd and reluctantly added that to the list.
But now that the new fall viewing season has started, I'm torn. I stopped watching "Girlfriends" long before they got rid of Toni's character. Now they have the nerve to add one of my many crushes, Richard T. Jones, to the cast. Don't the writers know that he was one of my favorite parts of "The Wood"? Don't they know I watched "Judging Amy" every week just to see him?
Adding 'Girlfriends' to the list makes things even more complicated because 'The Game' comes on right after that and I know I'll end up watching that as well. An even bigger problem is the fact that 'Heroes' comes on at the same time as both of these shows. But the CW Network does reair the episodes that Sunday, making it way too convenient for me to watch everything.
Recently, my friend, JJ, told me about his undying love for "Brothers & Sisters." I thought the show looked cheesy, but I got the first season's DVDs just to check it out. And I was right, it is cheesy, uses every cliche imaginable, but ... dare I say it? ... I can't stop watching. Sally Field is such a great actress and seeing Calista Flockhart again takes me back to my Ally McBeal days. I haven't finished watching the first season yet, but when I do, I'll probably .... you know ... add it to the list. (Of course, this list doesn't even mention the cable shows that I watch on DVD -- "Battlestar Galactica," "Nip/Tuck," etc)
After "Brothers & Sisters", I'm putting my foot down. The list is under lock and key and I'm not putting another show on there. So what if 24 is resurrecting one of my favorite characters from the dead (Tony Almeidia played by Carlos Bernard) ... I'm not going back! So what if ER is adding my other favorite 24 character (Reiko Aylesworth) to the cast this fall ... I'm not watching!!! And no matter how loudly my inner teenage white girl may sing "Glamorous Life", I will not watch Gossip Girl!! Hmph.
(Photo courtesy of http://www.stormerbrooks.com/karen/comp.too_much_TV.gif
Friday, October 05, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
These days, I have a new BFF and her name is Naté. We enjoy similar music, gossip blogs and she supports my stalkerization of both Robin Thicke and Method Man. We’ve bonded with issues over being the only black person in the workplace, folks misspelling and mispronouncing our name and how our accent marks have become the bane of our existence.
The only thing is, Naté and I have never met.
See, Naté is the girlfriend of my coworker Matthew. He’s a quiet, ordinary white fella who sits near me. I didn’t think one way or the other of him when he started working with me, but my eyebrows went straight to the ceiling when I saw the picture of the beautiful sistah on his desk. I tried to keep my surprise on the inside as countless numbers of our colleagues went up to him, ogled his girlfriend’s picture and told him that he was way out of his league. Yeah, I don’t work with the most sensitive people.
Anyway, it’s no secret that I check ybf on a frequent basis for my gossip fix. But one day Matthew told me that his gf told him to tell me that the site had a mention of Robin Thicke that I needed to check out. And sure enough, there was a link to a story on my man, in all his glory. From then on, Naté has been golden with me.
Since then, Naté, via Matthew, has become my go-to person in the office. It’s not unusual for me to say something like, ‘Hey Matthew, I hate that new song by (insert famous R&B artist here), what does she think? (She agreed)’ ‘Hey Matthew, is Naté wearing her black to support the Jena 6? (She was and so did he)’ And he’ll say, ‘Hey Strength, Naté wants to know if you think Paula Patton is pregnant (I have noticed a belly bump).’
Maybe one day I’ll meet Naté. I do get a kick out of her, via Matthew. We keep telling him to bring her around, but they live too far away for socializing outside of the office. Or so he says. Truthfully, I wonder if there even is a Naté. Maybe Matthew is embracing that inner black woman that dwells in us all.
(Photo from http://www.empowerme.org/images/he2016.jpg)
Saturday, September 22, 2007
(Photo from http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/153/994066~The-Family-Guy-Got-MILF-Posters.jpg)
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
(The scene: Salsa club. The dance floor is crammed with folks and I am having a blast, even tho I’m still trying to get adjusted to this salsa thing. Dude asks me to dance and I comply. But before I go out there, I warn him as I do all my other dance partners, that I’m a beginner. So we go out there. )
Him: You’re sure you’re a beginner? You’re doing perfect!
Me: No, you’re just saying that.
Him: No, I mean it. You’re very beautiful. I love your hair.
Me: Thank you.
Him: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Kinda. (The correct answer is no, but that’s my way of saying I’m not interested)
Him: Ah. That’s okay. I’m kind of involved myself.
Me: YOU’RE MARRIED??!!!
Him: No, no, no. I’m not married. I’m just in love with someone and she’s not talking to me.
Me: Oh. What’d you do?
Him: Let’s just say I was just being a man.
Me: (rolling eyes) Oh, you’re one of those.
Him: I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything, but she just won’t give in.
Me: How long has it been since she stopped talking to you?
Him: About a year.
Me: A YEAR??? Okay, I think she’s moved on.
Him: Well, I know she’s not married. I can’t give up on her.
Him: Anyway, if you give me your email address I can add you to my online network. (He was talking about LinkedIn)
Me: Sure. It’s email@example.com
(Scene: The library. Many times, I spend my lunch break at the library just catching up on some reading. This dude was sitting in front of me. While I was immersed in a book, he was staring out the window with a bunch of bags at his feet. I wondered if he was homeless, but he looked too well kempt for that)
Him: Hey sis. What you reading?
Me: (startled) Oh, nothing.
Him: Seriously, what is it? Is it a good book?
Me: Yeah, but …
Him: What’s it called? I might want to read it.
Me: (I reluctantly hold up the cover of the book, which is titled ‘Why I’m Still Married’. It’s actually a good book)
Him: (a look of horror on his face) You married, sis?
Me: No. It’s just a good book. These real life authors are talking about their marriages and some of them are in some crazy situations.
He continues to chat over some time and I learn that he has college age children. He won’t tell me what he does for a living, but tells me about jobs he has held in the past (pastor, head of an AIDS clinic), which typically means that he’s unemployed. He asks for my email address and I give it to him as I’m about to leave. I’m not interested, but whatever. An email address, esp one that doesn’t list my last name, is harmless. I get up to leave.
Him: So, sis …
Me: (Didn’t I just tell your ass my name is Strength?) What?
Him: Um…. What’s up with the dreads?
Me: Nothing. It’s just my hair. And they’re locs.
Him: Hmmm. Ever had a perm?
Me: Yes. Before I had these.
Him: Ever considering getting one again?
Me: Nope, I sure haven’t.
Suffice it to say, this dude never emailed me. Darn! I was so looking to having so many stimulating conversations with this brainwashed old man. Sigh. Anyway, 'Why I'm Still Married' is a great book, particularly the essay from the woman involved in an open marriage and then she later starts an affair with her husband's girlfriend's husband. Drama, drama!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
This will come as a surprise to anyone who knows me, but every once in a while I struggle with my swagger. Even though 99.9 percent of the time I profess to be a queen and insert my name into damn near every song lyric I can find (Lately, it's Dream's 'Shawty You a 10'), I'm actually quite shy and insecure. Close your mouths, it's true.
One of my biggest issues has been naked phobia. Basically, I'm a bit uncomfortable being 'nekkid,' as well as having the folks around me in the buck. This was a nickname that some relatives gave my issue, but after googling it, I found out that it is actually a real problem. I wouldn't say I have a major dose of this phobia, after all, I have been able to get over it in certain situations. I have no clue where I developed it either. Maybe that whole thing in middle school where you have to undress in the locker room with all the other girls. Or maybe it's a general feeling of inadequacy with my own figure, which is something I still struggle with today. I wonder if I would have this problem if I had a bigger chest, flatter stomach and curves. Hmmm.
Anyway, I decided to cure myself. I didn't do any googling or call any 1-800 numbers for advice, I simply found my own way to make my body image better. For about a week, I slept in nothing more than my skin.
This wasn't the first time I slept with nothing on, but it was definitely the first time I did it for a continuous period. I heard people talk about how addicting it is to lie in bed and feel the sheets on your bare skin, how freeing the whole thing is. I wanted to join that club, so I shed my garmets.
For a while, I had a ritual going. I'd hop in the shower, oil down, stand in front of my mirror in the nude and chant 'I love myself, I love myself' a few times and then crawl into bed. At first, it felt a little strange, but then I got used to it. Of course, once my alarm clock came off, I reached for my robe with a quickness.
So far, I'm not addicted to sleeping in the nude, but I don't hate it either. I'm just going with the flow, seeing if I can heal myself. I don't have any answers yet. I do know that I did gain one thing from sleeping nekkid. A cold! It might be time to break out the jammies.
(Photo from http://www.thaicraftstore.com/images/e820_10.jpg)
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Alright, I just had to get that out. Stay tuned for the next installment, which could very well be things that piss me the hell off. Have a good day!
Monday, September 10, 2007
Anyone who knows me well, knows that I have many men, many imaginary men, that is. Countless celebrities that I refer to as boyfriends who don't know they're my boyfriends. So what if Access Hollywood says he's dating some new actress, that's just something we tell folks to keep the paparazzi off our trail. What, he got somebody pregnant? That's totally innocent -- we asked that chick to be the surrogate mother to our child! As you can see, my stories tend to be a bit on the elaborate side.
Today, I want to talk about the cuteness that is Coby Bell, pictured above. I remember the first time I saw young Coby. I was in the suite of my dorm watching ER with a few of my roommates. We were barely paying attention to the TV until Coby appeared. He played a patient who was an athlete with some kind of prostate problem. We decided he was cute and got a little closer to the screen as his character became embarassed over the erection he got when the female doctor prodded him. As we remained transfixed to the screen, we wondered whether he was a brotha, hermano or gringo. In the end, we decided that it didn't even matter -- he could get it.
Over the years, I followed him onto various TV shows -- "Third Watch" and now "The Game." I always thought he had this rare cute/innocent quality about him, until I caught a glimpse of him on CSI Miami this week. I only saw enough of it to grasp that Coby was the bad guy and that he had killed someone. He had this nice little soul patch just below his lip and he was admitting to the murder with such bravado. It made him seem so dangerous ... and appealing. Gotta love a man with determination. Yum.
Yeah, there are rumors that he's married with twin girls. That's just another one of our schemes to protect the anonymity of our love.
(Photo from http://images.tvnz.co.nz/tvnz_images/tv2/programmes/third_watch/Coby_Bell_d.jpg)
Friday, September 07, 2007
Here's us setting up and getting ready for the water:
Me digging my toes in the sand:
Even though I enjoyed my cruise, I think it will be several years before I take another one. I'd really just rather visit the individual cities/towns/islands etc instead of being trapped on a boat much of the time. I didn't get seasick at all, but I often went to portions of the boat where I could feel more movement than others and that was uncomfortable.
One of the best parts of the trips was karaoke and our DJ, "Kay", who hosted it. Kay was incredibly bland (think Ben Stein), except when the music came on. Then she would bust out notes like I never heard and occasionally chimed in as other folks were singing. It was hilarious. I only wished she cut off the chick who got up there to sing Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On." I mean, really .... who sings a song from 'Titanic' when they're on a cruise ship?? Sheesh.
Well, that's enough for now. I hope you all had good weeks!
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Today, I was introduced to this site. And apparently I'm late because it looks like the creators, Tia and Toya, have been around since 2003. Like me, they are both in love with Common and have a fetish for Jeremy Piven, making this my favorite post. I've been laughing about that post all day, especially when she mentions Common's tux. It even sent me googling True Love Waits. Enjoy!
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Well, I did go on the Not-Date with Crush (this would be the fourth Not-Date, to be exact), as I mentioned before. It was, how do you say ... uneventful. Yes, uneventful is the word of the night. This man has no pulse. Allow me to set the scene.
A friend of a friend was having a party that included dancing, salsa in particular. Crush and I agreed to meet up there. Let me just say that I was hot ... I was looking fierce in this strapless black and white dress. I put a little extra time into getting ready and I even smelled good too. Crush arrived before me and once I went to greet him, all he said was 'hello.' This dude had the absolute gall not to be affected by me in all my gorgeousness.
The night wore on and we danced and chatted, danced and chatted, sometimes with each other, sometimes with other people. I upped the flirting a notch, yet Crush did not take the bait. Grrr.
Anywho, I drove home feeling dejected and disappointed. I felt like Marcus Graham in that scene in Boomerang where he's trying to get Robin Givens' character to fall into his charms: "This is my mack daddy vibe I'm giving you, in all it splendor. Check it, it's like Jet Magazine (pose)." I mean really, the nerve of this fool to be immune to my feminine wiles.
When I got home, it was late, I turned on my computer for a minute just to check my email. Crush was online and we im'd for about an hour. That's the thing about this dude, we're rarely on the phone -- mostly i.m., text, email. Call me old school, but you've got to call me. Sheesh. Anyway, I've given myself a deadline (Sept. 11, to be exact) as to when I'll either tell him I like him or ask him if he likes me or something like that. Man, I feel like I'm back in high school again. Maybe I'll slip him a note that says, 'do you like me? check yes, no, or I don't know.'
PS I hope that's enough, L-Boogie. And this works both ways ... I mean, can I learn a little bit more about this special someon you've been so giddy about? I'm not trying to be 'ALL THE WAY UP in yo bizness' but, ya know .... =)