Caribbean Queen

As I dragged myself out of bed this morning and made that endless drive into work, I asked myself a serious philosophical question that I continue to ask now that I'm sitting at my desk. WHY AM I HERE????

Today is my last day at the office before my weeklong vacation in the Caribbean. I'm taking my first cruise to Jamaica and Grand Cayman. The only thing that sucks is that I have to leave my apt at 3:30 tomorrow morning to make my flight. (GRRR) But after that, I'll be footloose and fancy free.

Soon, I'll type up a sign and tape it on my computer monitor to remind my colleagues that I am out of town. It'll probably say -- 'GONE ON VACATION. DON'T CALL, DON'T EMAIL, DON'T TEXT. MOST IMPORTANTLY, DON'T THINK ABOUT ME, 'CUZ I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT YOU. ' I cannot wait to be aboard that boat, have the sand in my toes and see nothing but ocean all around.

Anywho, this is my way of alerting all of you that I will be gone for an entire week. When I return, I'm sure I'll have lots to share. But right now, I am in vacation mode (actually, I've been in that mode since June). I hope you all have a pleasurable Labor Day -- I know I will!!!

(Photo from http://www.cyberaffaire.com/images/billy%20ocean.jpg)

"Jesus be a restraining order and a True Love Waits accountability partner. The flesh is weak.'

There are people in my life who truly want to get me fired. I won't mention any names (Juicy), but there is a certain someone who sends me to the most hilarious websites during the workday that I fear my shoulder-shaking laughter will eventually get me fired.

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!

For Tha L, who's not trying to be 'ALL THE WAY UP' in my bizness

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 .... =)

Photo from http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/dayart/20060116/flirting.gif

Picket Fences

There is nothing that has increased my need for a new house like my neighbors. I may have written about the people I've been forced to live around a time or twenty and while it mostly seemed like an exaggeration, trust, it was not.







My main annoyance these days has been the people who live below me. We have thin walls, very thin, and I can hear everything. EVERYTHING. The cast of characters beneath my feet include a middle-aged woman, her 20-something year old daughter, and the daughter's three young children.







Now, let me say first that the three kids -- two girls and a boy -- are adorable. The sweetest little things. But when I'm inside my apartment, all I hear is Grandma yelling at them. "PUT THAT DOWN!" "LET HER GO!" "DON'T MAKE ME GO OVER THERE!" The screams are followed by subsequent slaps and tears. I mean, I'm not saying the kid didn't deserve it, but honestly.... do I need to hear all that? The funny thing is, I never hear the daughter say anything to them kids. I guess she figures she's go it made with Mom watching over anything.







I figured out the daugther's thing when I made the mistake of calling in sick to work a few Mondays ago. I was resting comfortably in my bed, watching Regis & Kelly, when I hear loud moans and groans coming from beneath me. Obviously, this is sex. But it's not like it's the kind of sex that makes me jealous, it's the kind that sounds very painful and frightening. Honestly, I thought that chick was giving birth. That was the loudest five minutes of my life. And don't even get me started on how she plays Bobby Brown's "Tenderoni" nonstop.







All of that was fine, really -- I mean, I was able to cope with it. But I reached my breaking point the other day. It was around midnight and I was about to get into my bed when I was able to hear the television from below my feet. Again, this doesn't bother me so much, since I know how thin our walls/ceilings/floors are. The problem came when I realized what she was watching. 'MASH.' I've never watched this award-winning TV show and there's a reason why: The theme song makes me nauseous and immensely depressed. I mean really: duh duh duh duh duh dooo, duh duh duh duh duh doo, duh duh duh duh duh dooo....ARGH!!! I hate it. Gives me a migraine like you wouldn't believe.







I've talked to other people about this theme song and I learned that I'm not the only one who feels this way. After all, the song is called 'Suicide is Painless.' Yuck. I hate it. Anyway, I was already in the early phases of starting the homebuying process, but that situation right there lit a fire under my arse like you wouldn't believe. All I want is to be in a place where I can walk upstairs and downstairs and not look at anyone I don't know. I want a garden, a driveway, a fireplace and a laundry room that's just for me. And most importantly, I want the bigger tax refund that doesn't come to us renters. Sigh. I'll get there .... one day.

(Image from http://www.jjcafe.net/photography/weekends/House/frontpage.jpg)

Bubbles

I'm feeling a certain kind of way and I don't like to feel this way. Ever. The sweaty palms, the quickened heartbeat, the butterflies/bubbles in the stomach. Sigh. And they only seem to happen when I think of a certain someone.






I guess you could say I have a crush. He is someone who has become a friend, which makes the whole situation even better, or worse, depending on how you look at it.

See, I'm not used to this friend before dating thing. I'm used to "yo baby, can i get your number?", "yo baby, can i hit it?", "yo baby, goodbye." Obviously, I could use a change. My conversations with Crush are usually via modern technology, i.e. texting, i.m., emails. Afterward, I spend way too much time analyzing what was written to see if I missed some kinda clue that he was flirting with me. All I know is he's single and looking, I'm single and half-assly (is that a word?) looking and we hang out. I enjoy is company, but I've been trying not to get my hopes up too high and I've been scaling down my inner Joan Clayton.



We're going on a Not-Date this week. What is a Not-Date, you may ask? Well, it's not a date, that's for sure. It's just that we've discovered that we'll be attending the same party alone and we've made plans to go together. And this has actually caused major anticipation on my part, from trying to figure out what to wear in advance, to praying nonstop that it won't rain and cause me to Plan B the outfit.



Anyway, I'm happy to be doing the friend thing and taking things s l o w for a change. I'll tell him sometime in the future how I feel, if things work out. For now, I'm just going to enjoy the moment and pine from afar. Hopefully, he won't figure out that my new myspace song (Fantasia's "When I See U) is about him.

(Photo from http://www.hometownfavorites.com/images/orange-crush.jpg)

Deconstructing Lauryn

That magazine cover right there is how I choose to remember Lauryn Hill, aka L-Boogie. There are reports that she looks quite different these days, has lost her mind and is the sole reason a Fugees reunion may not ever happen.

Now, for those of you who don't know, I LOOOOOOVE Lauryn Hill. I admit that I didn't think she was all that big of a deal back when my cousins used to drool over her, but I did like the Fugees. She got me when she had that killer line in"Ready or Not": 'While you imitatin' Al Capone/I be Nina Simone and defecating on your microphone.'

When Lauryn went solo, things changed for me. I remember where I was the first time I heard "Lost Ones", the first single off of the Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. I was in my college newspaper office, working, when that song came on the radio. Somebody attempted to change the station when myself and this Indian boy (the only other minority at the paper) threatened to maim him/her. I promptly got the album and saw her on tour twice that summer. Oh yes, I'm a true fan.

To this day, I continue to defend L. Boogie against her naysayers, folks who want to crticize her relationship with Rohan, the children she's had out of wedlock and how she has nerve to call other people heathens. I even bought her MTV unplugged CD which was no 'Miseducation.' Let's just say my girl had way too many issues to get off her chest on those tracks and it got into the way of the music.

Call me selfish, but I'm really ready for Lauryn to get it together as best she can and start making music again. If I can't have a Fugees reunion, fine, I won't have one. But I could definitely use some L. Boogie in my life. Until then, I have the Miseducation CD on repeat, remembering the good ol days and hoping for the best.

(Photo from http://cdn.channel.aol.com/channels/0c/04/43a9a052-001c1-0085f-400cb8e1)

Out There, But In There

Well, I went 'out there' just like I said I would. And after a few weeks of being exposed to that world, I'm racing right back into my shell.

Actually, being out there wasn't that bad, even though I didn't do it to the fullest. I did learn that nowadays this meeting people thing takes quite a bit of discipline, confidence and LOTS of money.

I found this group that coordinates dinners between groups of professional men and women with the intention of hook ups. I thought that would be kind of fun to do once or twice. After all, a girl's gotta eat. I emailed the facilitator for more information about memerships. What did I learn? You can't just have dinners and pay as you go; you have to buy a membership package. And these packages cost $250 and up. Hah! Onto the next venture.

I'm still window shopping on Achoo! Personals and Hatch, with no real results. I did a brief trial of Achoo! and talked to one guy from there on the phone. That one conversation was enough to tell me he was a dud. There was a guy I was interested in on Hatch, so I sent him a wink, which is how you let someone know you're interested. He winked back, but I'm a punk and talked myself out of making the next move. I still haven't paid the fee, so I can't read any emails he may have sent me and this was quite a few weeks ago. It would really surprise me if he even still had a profile up there. Oh well.

In the online world, there are two types of fellas that I've been prone to attract: Mr. Separated and Mr. I'll Tell You Later. I think Mr. Separated speaks for himself. That's the guy who's separated from his wife, yet he'll express interest in me. Do me a favor, buddy -- get divorced, wait a year or two, then try to get at me. And then there's Mr. I'll Tell You Later. This is the kind of guy who'll avoid pertinent questions on his profile:

Age -- I'll tell you later.

Marital status -- I'll tell you later.

Do you have children? I'll tell you later.

I mean, really. If you're a married, 45 year old man with five kids. Just say so! I wouldn't be interested, but I'm sure there's someone out there who would. But that's an area so far from my expertise that I won't even go there.

The best part of this experience was the cookout I attended recently. I was there chatting with a male acquiantance when he suddenly said, "I like your profiles." I didn't know what he was talking about, I assumed it was myspace, since we are myspace friends. Then he proceeded to tell me that he'd seen me on Hatch and Achoo! and liked what I had to say.

This jarred me for a moment, but shoot, I'm not ashamed. If he's on there, he's probably having the same issues in the dating world as I am. We began comparing notes on what we've got from each site and we've both had similar experiences. It seems like there's no easy way to navigate this wonderful world of dating. It's just so darn frustrating. Sigh. But I'll keep at it for now and let ya'll know if there's any progress.

(Photo from http://www.darksungames.com/dsgallery/cupid_kills.jpg)

Sure, We Can Be Friends -- Just Ditch Your Kid

The phone rang the other day and that old familiar number popped up, but I didn’t answer it. This is the second time in two weeks that that number has rang my phone and I’m starting to feel a little guilty about avoiding “Sheila.” The thing is, the avoidance isn’t her fault. The problem is her kids. Well, one of her kids, that is.

Back in the day, Sheila and I were tight, despite her being quite a few years older. We lived in the same neighborhood and she doted on me like a mother hen. Whenever somebody wanted to fight me, they’d have to go through her first. I went with her when she got her first tattoo, she was with me when I got the second hole in my ear pierced. She encouraged me to be wild, I tried to get her to calm down. I'm not sure either one of us was successful in our attempts to influence the other. We moved away, but remained in touch over the years.

Recently, we got back in contact. The Sheila that I know is now a divorced mother of two – a son and a daughter. The few times we’ve hung out, they’ve always been to kid-friendly things. She’d call me up, wanting to hang out and I’d be all excited, thinking she wanted to go to the mall or to the club or something. Then I’d scratch my head in amazement as she invited me to Chuck E Cheese, birthday parties and other crap where I’d be wedged between screaming children.

Now, ordinarily this wouldn’t be so bad, if I was forced to be around kids who are enjoyable. Her 6-year-old son, love him to death, he’s my road dog, the cutest thing in the world. Her 12-year-old daughter, however, is a demon seed. She’s approaching those teen years and always seems like she has an attitude about something. I’ve seen the way she talks to her mother and grandmother and have wondered often why she's still breathing. Since I don’t have kids of my own, I keep my mouth shut.

So I’ve been dreading Sheila’s phone calls, knowing that she's just dying to invite me to the next birthday party. Maybe next time we get together I’ll suggest she leave the kids at home. Or at least, leave her daughter at home. Her son can roll. Hmmm... I guess that wouldn't go over too well. Oh well, I guess I'll have to find ways to flake out of some of her invitations.

(Photo from http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2485105/2/istockphoto_2485105_tired_mom_screaming_baby_mchipster250.jpg)