Ordinary People of 2006

I've tried my hardest to make this an original blog, but damn it, there's just no escaping certain things that have been done over and over. So please forgive me for posting an end of the year list. This one be like all those other lists that you've seen on news and what not, this is the S/C/W version.

Each year, People Magazine likes to do it's 50 Most Beautiful People list. Well, I've decided to list some folks who I think are beautiful, either for their looks or other attributes, and have not gotten the recognition they deserve. It also contains folks I'd like to see more of in 2007. Check it out!

Guys:
1. Djimon Hounsou. I saw Blood Diamonds recently and had to wonder if this man has ever even been nominated for an Academy Award. There's something special about that man.

2. Keith Robinson III. I have mentioned that I'm obsessed with 'Dreamgirls,' but I haven't mentioned about the little crush I developed on the dude that played Cici, Effie's brother. Where'd he come from? When can I see him again?

3. Robin Thicke. Speaking of obsessions, I really don't need to go on about how I'm in love with this man again, do I? I watched an old episode of 'Growing Pains' recently and found myself thanking the loins of Dr. Seaver.

4. Jason Segel. This past year, my Monday nights have changed thanks to a show called 'How I Met Your Mother.' My devotion has nothing to do with the star, Josh Radnor, whose constant whining and whimpering is not good for my mental health. But I love his buddy Marshall, played by Jason Segel. He and I go back to 'Freaks and Geeks', which was unfairly canceled. I also love Neal Patrick Harris, but there's been enough said about his recent comeback and his coming out, so he didn't make the list.

5. Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje. I admit that I cried when they killed Mr. Eko off of 'Lost' a few months ago. I wasn't feeling this dude at all when he played Adebisi on 'Oz.' Back then, his acts sickened me and all I wanted to do was straighten that lopsided hat on his head. I changed my mind when he came to Lost and realized how sexy he looks in the flashbacks. I'm shocked at what a shower and shave will do for a man. Of course, now all the black folks have disappeared from this show. I'll have to reevaluate my commitment to 'Lost' after this season. Hmph.

Honorable mentions:
Carlos Bernard, actor -- 24
Percival Everett, writer -- Erasure, Glyph, Wounded
Daniel Sunjata, actor -- Sex and the City, The Devil Wears Prada
Adrian Grenier, actor -- Entourage, The Devil Wears Prada
Joey Harrington, football player -- Miami Dolphins


Women:
1. Lisa Gay Hamilton. This actress will forever be on my list, since she gets no recognition anywhere. Whenever I see a movie or TV show that features her, I always wonder why she never gets more roles. Back when she had a recurring role on 'The Practice', the writers treated her like an extra. I hope to see more of her in the future.

2. Reiko Aylesworth. The one way to get me to stop watching a TV show is by killing of a favorite character of mine. And last year, when the folks at 24 blew up the character Michelle in a car bomb, and then killed her husband, Tony (Carlos Bernard) a few episodes later, I was done. I've been watching her since she was on One Life to Live back in the day and have seen her suffer through several parts with barely even a speaking role. The word is that she's going to star in the new Alien vs. Predator movie. Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn't see that flick. But since she's in it, I'll at least get it at netflix.

3. Meredith Vieira. She's hardly underrated, but I made an exception in this case. Am I the only one whose not surprised that she's doing such a good job on the Today show? After handling the bitch beat on the View, its good to see ol' Merdith doing something worthwhile for a change, even taking on The Donald. I even see Meredith as a better fit than Katie on this new prime time gig of hers. Make that money, MV!

4. Anika Noni Rose. This is another 'Dreamgirls' shoutout, but I can't help myself. This Broadway actress played the role of Lorell in the movie, but the movie didn't show much about her character outside of her relationship with singer James 'Thunder' Early, played by Eddie Murphy. She's slated to have a bunch of movies premiere in 2007, so we'll see where this takes her.

5. Whitney. It may be too soon to call, but I hope this year is her comeback year. Now that she's gotten rid of that baggage, I hope she'll focus on getting her life together and reviving that beautiful voice.

Honorable mentions:
Jaguar Wright, musician
Macy Gray, musician
Meshell Ndegeocello, musician

People I'd like to see less of in 2007:
Paris Hilton, Kevin Federline, Britney Spears.

Have a wonderful 2007!

"Baby, you'll always be 16 to me." -- Curtis

Sorry I’ve been neglecting my posting duties, even falling back on my promise of Monday/Wednesday postings. I wish I had a reason as to why things have been so delayed, but I don’t. I’ve just been lazy. And between the ongoing rush that is the holidays and the strange things that keep happening to me, trust, I have plenty to write about. I just haven’t been motivated to do so. But today that changes.

Because I haven’t been posting, I haven’t mentioned my ongoing obsession with the movie, “Dreamgirls.” When I was around four years old, Mom went to Broadway to catch this musical with her sisters. She was so excited about how great it was, that she came back and told me about the play word for word. I remember looking through the book at the gorgeous Sheryl Lee Ralph, Loretta Devine and Jennifer Holliday. Mom played the songs non stop, especially Jennifer Holliday’s “And I Am Telling You.” I loved this play without even seeing it. I was upset that I didn’t get a chance to go, but Mom said I was too young.

Fast forward to the present day. I heard that they were producing a movie and I didn’t have high hopes. But then I saw the previews with Beyoncé channeling Diva Diana in all her fabulousness, that I knew I must see it. To prepare, I whipped out my copy of “Mahogany” (yes, I do own it, no I ain’t ‘shamed) and got ready to watch. But my stupid VCR apparently wanted the tape more than I did and it got lodged inside. I’ve been trying to get that bad boy out for a week now.

Anyway, I saw the movie the day after Christmas. I LOVED it. I felt like I was at a concert. Jennifer Hudson was AMAZING… stole the show in my opinion. And I’ve never been a Beyoncé fan before, but the chick gets much respect. I mean, this heffa is downright gorgeous. Even in those old wigs and outfits, she shined.

I sang, I clapped and if it wasn’t for that annoying Little Bastard in our row, I would have cried during the critical Jennifer Hudson song or Jamie Foxx’s “When I First Saw You.” This kid did it all – needed to go to the bathroom during my favorite scene (Jamie’s previously mentioned song), sneezed annoyingly throughout the movie, loudly whispered to her mother at critical parts, among other things. I had to restrain my movie date, J.J., from screaming “Roe Vs. Wade” at her mother. That experience helped me realize that when I have kids, I’m never taking them to the movies. If I must, I’m doping them up on Benadryl beforehand.

Despite those challenges, I had an enjoyable time. I’ll probably see the movie again, because that’s how I get when I’m in obsessive mode. When it comes on DVD, I’ll probably buy it. Hopefully, by then I’ll have rescued “Mahogany” from my evil VCR and I’ll be able to view the flicks consecutively. Yes, I know I need help. Unfortunately, I can’t afford the help that I need.

(photo courtesy of http://img.timeinc.net/ew/dynamic/imgs/060810/173023__dreamgirls_l.jpg)

Like A Star & Put Your Records On

I have jumped on the Corinne Bailey Rae bandwagon. Heard this song on myspace, then ran and bought the cd. I haven't been stopped playing it yet!
Check it:



Also check my theme song:

Slowing Down

Well blog readers, things have been fun here, but I think it's time for me to scale back on my posts a little bit. Between the blog, work, school, and the occasional cruising the Internet and other miscellaneous distractions, I find that I have been neglecting my writing.

I need to get back on schedule with that, so I'm going to slow down the posts for a little while. I'm not disappearing, but I promise to have a new post here each Monday and Wednesday. Actually, maybe promise is too strong of a word. I'll try to have new posts waiting for you all on Mondays and Wednesdays.

In the meantime, it's back to my writing. Hopefully I'll get some short stories published and (gasp!!) even a novel. Please look out for a book by Strength/Courage/Wisdom coming soon!

The Strength Planet

Mom once told me that I live on my own planet where everyone speaks a strange language. Apparently, they have music there too.

Throughout my life, I have been known as the person who butchers music lyrics. I'll hear a song and recite back what I think I hear, and everyone nearby will look at me like I'm Boo Boo the Fool. It's alright though. After 29 years, I'm used to the stares and laughter. It comes part of being the only occupant on the Strength planet.

Here are a few of my famous screwups. Some of them, I only learned the true lyrics very recently:

-My version of Kanye West's 'Testify.': 'I gotta testify, come up in the spot lookin extra fly, for the day you die, you gonna testify.'
Reality: The song is called "Touch the Sky": 'I gotta testify, come up in the spot lookin extra fly, for the day you die , you gonna touch the sky.'

-My version of Whitney Houston's 'So Emotional': 'I get so emotional baby, everytime I think of youuuuu. I get so emotional baby, just show me what ... love can doooooo.'
Reality: 'I get so emotional baby, everytime I think of youuuuuu. I get so emotional baby. Ain't it shocking what ... love can dooooo.'

-My version of Guns 'n Roses 'Welcome to the Jungle' (I have a diverse group of friends, what can I say?): 'Welcome to the jungle, we got what it takes ..'
-Reality: 'Welcome to the jungle, we got fun 'n' games ...'

You get the picture.

My coworker, Nicole, and I were talking about music recently (today, actually). I told her how I often insert my name in songs, since its so hard to find a song with my name in it. When she said she felt the same way, I looked at her like she was crazy. I asked her if she heard that old song by Jimmy Cozier called "I Love Nicole." She hadn't. I even sang the chorus: 'Sometimes I love her/sometimes I love her not/I love Nicole cause she's all I got.' She still didn't know what I was talking about.

I googled and googled and I finally found the song. It's actually called "She's All I Got." I sent her the link to the video and she could barely get through it, she was laughing so hard. She proceeded to tell me that her name wasn't in the song. Jimmy was actually saying 'I ain't lettin her go.' I tried to explain that Jimmy was mumbling so much that it was an easy mistake, but she was laughing too hard.

Ah well. Not my fault folks aren't on my planet. Check the video below. Who knew?

Baby, Remember My Name

I mentioned previously that I was revisiting my childhood and right now I'm in the thick of it. I'm still in the '80s and I'm done with watching and re-watching my favorite movie, only to move on to one of my favorite TV shows. I put in for my netflix order and promplty received season one of Fame on dvd.

Say what you will, but when I was a girl, I thought this was the best show on TV. I sang along to the theme song, making up some words as I went along. I was always so perplexed that these people not only wanted to live forever, but they wanted to learn how to fly....high. Deep. Real deep. In my mind, I was Cocoa, who danced her butt off in a class run by Clair Huxtable's baby sister. My other favorite character was Leroy Johnson... but of course. Gene Anthony Ray was the best thing that happened to that show.

I spent a good hunk of Saturday morning and afternoon watching the show. It's not good by today's standards (and don't even get me started on the movie, which SUCKS. the best part was leroy's audition dance), but I couldn't walk away from my TV. There were a few cameos in there, including a non-speaking part from Michael DeLorenzo and a speaking part from the brotha who played the father on "Moesha."

I was so enthralled with Fame that Mom signed me up for ballet lessons. I decided I wanted something more exciting, so I switched to tap, then jazz. In the end, I decided I wanted to hang up my dancing shoes and watch Saturday morning cartoons with my cousins. That's probably why I have two left feet to this day. I had big dreams, I wanted fame. But fame costs and I didn't want to start paying ... in sweat.

Oh well, I'd better get back to my show. I only have one more episode to watch on disc 1 and I'll be done with that one. I can't wait till they release all the previous seasons on dvd, because I surely will add them to my collection. But then I'd never leave the house. It's a Catch 22. Sigh.

R.I. P. Bebe Moore Campbell, 1950-2006

I was saddened to read this earlier today. Ms. Campbell has been one of my favorite authors since I read "Your Blues Ain't Like Mine" some years ago. Her work never let me down and I tried to read everything she wrote, including the excellent "Brothers & Sisters," "What You Owe Me" and most recently, "72 Hour Hold."

For anyone who hasn't read her work, I advise you to go to your local bookstore and pick up one of her books. It is truly a sad day in literature.

I'm a fan, not a stalker. Really, I am!

I'm convinced that I'm getting younger everyday. I get my kicks out of watching cartoons and kid movies. And most recently I was reunited with my first love. Leroy Green.

For those of you who don't know me too well, I'll offer my confession now. "The Last Dragon" is my favorite movie. I was 9 years old when I first saw this movie, which is about a black kung fu master in Harlem named Leroy, aka Bruce Leroy. Vanity played his love interest and it featured cameos from William H. Macy, Cockroach from the Cosby Show and a few other folks.

It's a pretty cheesy flick, but you couldn't tell my 9-year-old eyes that. I fell madly in love with Taimak, the actor who played Bruce Leroy. I followed his career ever since then, even though there wasn't much to follow. My eyes would bug out of my head every time I caught him in one of his bit parts (He was a bartender in the Peach Pit After Dark on 90210, he was the guy that tried to rape Freddie in "A Different World" and he was in a few of those BET Arabesque movies). He's the reason I took karate lessons. I even signed the online petition for the filming of a sequel to The Last Dragon. Because I have great friends who feed into my obsessions, I own The Last Dragon on VHS, DVD and I have the soundtrack. Oh yes. I'm his number one fan. Some might call me a stalker, but whatever. They don't love the way I love.

I pretty much have the movie memorized, but I started watching it again this week. Then I found his website, plus saved him as a friend on MySpace. It doesn't matter to me that he's in his 40s now, never been married, and has no kids, which means people constantly question his sexuality. I still love that man. If he's gay ... we can work it out. I mean, look at Star Jones and Al. It can work!


These days, he is a trainer at a karate studio in New York. I devised a plan to visit him there once when I was in NYC with friends, but Juicy wouldn't let me do it. *sigh* Maybe I'll do it next year on my birthday, since it doesn't look like I'll be taking my dream trip to Egypt. I'll just so happen to be in the same area of Taimak's studio when I bump into him, with a pen, paper and digital camera ready. If I do meet him, I already have two options for my opening line. I'll either look him up and down and say "I would love to teach you some moves, Leroy", or I'll scream, "Could you teach me some moves?!!!" (Sorry, those are quotes from the movie. If you haven't seen it, I'm afraid you're left in the dark.)

Feels good

This is my 100th post. I'd been trying to think of something witty to write to mark this occasion like I did for the 50th, but I couldn't think of anything. Surprisingly, some things have changed in my life recently that gave me some material.

An elderly relative died recently and I had to go to my hometown for the funeral. It's always weird going there because I'm surrounded by a bunch of relatives who I either don't remember or they mistake me for my mother or one of my aunts. As expected, this happened several times at the funeral. And while I was there, I was able to see some relatives that I remembered very well, but for reasons that I won't go into here, I vowed never to speak to them again. True to my word, I hadn't had any contact with them in seven years.

It was very weird to spend half the day trying not to look at the side of the room where said relatives sat. I did what they did and didn't speak; I tried my best to get through the service without looking in their direction. When I did try to make eye contact, they didn't (or wouldn't) meet my eyes. I was so angry and hurt by the situation that I gave myself a fever and a pounding headache.

By the end of the post-service meal, I had enough. I went to their side of the room and greeted the people who were the source of my anger. We wound up hugging and crying, with them apologizing and me accepting their apologies. In the end, we looked like teenagers on the last day of school, scribbling our addresses down and programming phone numbers in our cell phones. I didn't realize how much I missed them until then. It didn't even occur to me that maybe they missed me as much as I missed them. Until that moment, I thought the concept of tears of joy was a myth. Now I tear up each time I replay that scene in my head. It's good to have my family back in one piece, even if I was the one who had to break the ice. My daddy would've been proud.

On my way out the door, one of my cousins grabbed me. "I saw what you did and you're a woman," she said. "You're a real strong woman, you hear me?" All I could do was nod. I knew that in a few minutes my self-inflicted fever would break and my headache would go away. Anger was tearing me up inside and it was time to let it go.

Yucky Yolk

I'm amazed at what my refrigerator can do when it's unattended.

The other day, I took the time to clean out the fridge, which was screaming for some attention. It contained practically every nasty thing you can think of -- sour milk, rotting lunch meat and swiss cheese that has turned a greenish blue.

The bad part was that I was hungry as I did all this. My tastebuds screamed for an egg sammich. Not a sandwich, a sammich -- with cheese, butter and strawberry jelly. Hells yes, jelly. Don't knock it till you try it.

I had two cartons of eggs and one carton only had one egg left. The carton with the single egg had an expiration of July, but the second one was more recent. But because I'm curious, I decided to see what an egg four months past its prime would look like. So I cracked it open with my fork and what did I see? A big ball of black yolk. Nasty!! I quickly ran it down my garbage disposal and hoped that that wasn't symbolic in any way.

Casanova

This week, I was terribly saddened by the death of Ed Bradley and then today of Gerald Levert. For me, Ed Bradley was the best part of the bland 60 Minutes. He stayed handsome throughout his life and I loved the way he rocked that earring. Gerald Levert was a big teddy bear with a beautiful voice. I remember being a little girl dancing to some of his hits with Levert, the group he formed with his brother and cousin back in the 80s.

But in my office this week, you'd think I was the only one who cared about these deaths. One of my friends emailed me Thursday and told me that Ed Bradley died from leukemia. I was shocked because I didn't even know he was sick and again, he was the best part of that boring CBS show. I had a moment of silence at my desk and pressed on, 'cause that's what I do. For whatever reason, I didn't tell my coworkers the news. I don't know why, maybe in the back of my mind I thought that they wouldn't care about the death of a black newsman.

It didn't take long for the news to spread and soon, everyone in our little department was coming up to me, asking if I knew that Ed Bradley died. They would come across the room and talk to me about it, as if the death of this black man didn't matter to anyone but me, the only black person in the office. "He was such a good man," one lady said to me. "And a good journalist. I trusted him. I really did." But later that night, this trusted man's death didn't even lead the 11 o'clock news. I mean, it's not like he was Britney Spears, ending a marriage via text message. Now that's news.

Another friend emailed me today about Gerald Levert and I was just as saddened. I needed to share this info with someone, but I knew none of my white colleagues listened to R&B. But then there's Anna. Anna is white, but she lives with her black boyfriend. She must've seen too many 'hood flicks because she uses them as fodder in her daily imitation of a stereotypical black woman. Yet her delivery makes her look more like Buckwild from Flavor of Love. Anna once told me that she loved my baby locks and asked me what I would think if she got her hair cornrowed. All I could think of was Bo Derek in "10", and told her that she should do what she wants.

Anyway, I sent Anna an i.m.:
Me: Do you remember Gerald Levert?
Anna: Hell yeah, girl
Me: He's dead! Had a heart attack.

Anna jumps up from her computer, eyes crazed. "Are you serious?? Can ya'll believe this? GERALD LEVERT IS DEAD!!" Everyone else looked around and gave a collective, "who?"

Anna looked around the room like she was staring at BooBoo the Fool. "Ya'll can't be serious up in this piece! Gerald Levert -- Eddie Levert's son!!"

Sean, another coworker, was perplexed. "I'm sorry. Were they friends of yours?"

"They're singers," I said. "Eddie sang with the O'Jays and Gerald was his son."

"Doesn't sound familiar," Sean said. "Can you sing a song?"

Against my better judgment, Anna and I did a duet of Levert's 1986 hit, "Casanova." We were off key and all we knew was the chorus. Sean later said he knew the song, but neither one of us believed him. Anna went back to her desk and made a series of calls where she screeched, "Gerald Levert is dead! Gerald Levert is dead!"

Later, I saw her outside smoking a cigarette and holding her cell phone, presumably telling someone else about Gerald's death. "Yo, I can't even believe these people," Anna said. "How can you not know who Gerald Levert is?!"

I shrugged.

"Damn shame," Anna said. "Damn shame."

Sure is.

Update: Upon checking my newspaper on Saturday, I see that Gerald's death is on page 6B, sans photo. There's no mention of it at all on the website.

"Taco night? I don't do taco night!"

It is now official. Until February, my Wednesdays are going to change. "Lost" has been placed on hiatus until then so ABC can run with that stupid Taye Diggs show that looks like "Groundhog Day" with guns.

I'm gong to miss "Lost" and all the unstability that it brings into my life. Every Thursday, just before lunch, my coworker and fellow Lost-aholic corners me by the vending machine and asks if I watched it. Then he'll tell me little things that I may have missed and what the writers are saying in the podcasts, message boards and secret websites. Yeah, he's a bit over the top. As a matter of fact, he scares me!

I feel a little guilty because so many "Lost" fans have theories about where the show is going and why these folks are stranded on the island. But I have no theories, no hypothesis. I am pissed off with the increased disappearance of all the black folks -- Michael, Walt, the woman with cancer, the woman with The Others who opened the hatch, and Mr. Eko. Words can not express how upset I was when the killed Mr. E. There are so many other people they could've murdered -- Hurley, Charlie and if Sayed wasn't so sexy, I'd want him gone too.

But last night, at least, the show had my attention. The moment I've been waiting for with Kate and Sawyer finally happened. Kate flashed back to a time when she was married and she basically went ballistic on her hubby. "Taco night? I don't do taco night!" Then she killed him. Actually, she just poisoned him. Man, I love her.

So for the next few months, my Wednesday evenings will be somewhat empty. At least I have one more episode of Dancing With the Stars to fill the void. I'm torn between Mario and Emmitt. They're both so good! It's the Dimples vs. The Bald Head. I can't wait to see who will pull it out in the end.

Can't Knock the Hustle

I'm a sucker for a cute kid selling Girl Scout Cookies. Heck, I'm a sucker for an ugly kid selling Girl Scout Cookies. So there was no way I could say no to the mass of hair that come marching toward me this evening.

The Girl Scouts had the perfect hustle going. They were set up in front of a school, which was my voting station. It was raining and they looked more than pitiful as they counted their money. The girl -- glasses, braces, hair going every which way -- was either too nervous, or too self conscious to give me the full sales pitch. All I heard was, "Um .... Miss? Would you like to ... ummmm.... uh...?" I was about to instruct her in the art of successful marketing, until I looked at the table and saw that they had Trefoils, my favorite. I happily handed over my $3.50 and grabbed a box. I was so excited that I drove away without voting.

Just kidding. I did cast my ballot and there was no drama. I hope everyone had a happy voting day!

To The Extremes

I once told my friend, Dee, that one of the reasons I'm single is because I've seen very few stable relationships in my life. Very few of my friends are married and some are in some seriously unstable situations filled with baby mama drama, cheating, and child support scandals, among others. So I thought it was only natural that I spent my life dealing with fellas like The Jerk, Mr. Too Sensitive, Mr. Not Sensitive Enough, The Amateur Rapper who only talked in rhyme and the Ambigiously Gay Ex Boyfriend.

Enter my homie Dee. We became friends back in the Midwest and I did my best to ruin her life. Well, not totally, but in my own way. Dee is one of those people who likes sweat – working out, rowing boats, riding bikes – that’s all pleasurable to her. Me? I’m a big fan of eating and sleeping. When she entered my life, I showed her how to do things my way. We spent a lot of time going to the movies, then IHOP, watching soap operas, then heading to Arby’s, watching music videos and then going out for ice cream. Not the healthiest situation.

Needless to say, I moved away and Dee lost 40+ pounds.But Dee didn’t lose this weight on her own. She fell in love with a Canadian. He had the same sickness she did; he was addicted to sweat. They spent their time rock climbing, skiing, weight lifting, playing tennis and then seductively rubbing each other down in Ben Gay. I began to call them The Extreme Couple. I liked the Canadian, but I was disgusted that he was ruining my influence on her. But I got over it.

Anyway, after they’d been dating for awhile, Dee and I patiently waited for what every woman waits for in these situations.

The Ring.

I may have been more anxious for a proposal than she was. Whenever she called me unexpectedly or on special occasions, I waited for the news. We started to talk in code:
(Christmas)
Dee: You’ll never believe this!
Me: Really? What’s going on? (You got the ring?)
Dee: I got these beautiful diamond earrings. (Nah girl, not even close.)
Me: Oh, that’s beautiful! (When’s it coming? Where’s the ring?)
Dee: Yeah, I really love them. (I wish I knew)

(Birthday)
Dee: You’ll never believe this!
Me: What’s going on? (Thank you Jesus!)
Dee: I got concert tickets! (Settle down, it’s not what you think)
Me: That’s fabulous! (Well damn. How long am I expected to wait?)
Dee: Yes, I can’t wait to go. (It’ll come soon. It better.)
Me: You guys have fun. (Don’t make me have to cut a Canadian)

(Random)
Dee: You’ll never believe this!
Me: What? (Oh, finally)
Dee: I got a new car!
Me: You know what? I tired of this *bleep* *bleeping* *bleep!* Where the *bleep* is the *bleeping* ring?
Dee: Girl, I wish I knew.
Me: I mean, what the *bleep?* I’ve invested too much in this *bleeping* relationship!
Dee: I know you have.
Me: Do I have to go out there to make him see the light? I mean, what’s wrong with you? Why won’t he propose?
Dee: Oh, he’s the one with the problem.

(And on Halloween)
Dee: You’ll never believe this!
Me: What’s up? (What the *bleep* do you want now? Didn’t I talk to you earlier today?)
Dee: I … I ….
Me: Yeah? (Spit it out. I’m eating my dinner)
Dee: I… got… engaged!!!
Me: Que?
Dee: I got engaged!!
Me: Oh Joy!! THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WTH THE SOUND OF MUSIC!!!

The Canadian dressed up as a trick or treater and surprised her with The Ring. He had been planning it for months, but things finally came together this week. They’re planning the wedding now and out of the three weddings that I’m going to in 2007, this is the only one I’m looking forward to attending.So, I give my sincere congratulations to Dee and the Canadian, the soon to be Mr. and Mrs. Extreme. I wish you nothing but the best. Thank you for being on my list of stable couples … you give the rest of us hope!

Signed, Sealed & Delivered

Well, I did it. I saw The Ex, just like I said I would. There was no cursing, no throwing things and no yelling, so I'd say it went pretty well.

We met up at Starbucks and I was late, as I tend to be no matter how hard I try. (Plus, I had to make sure I was wearing a pair of shoes that would make me tower over him) He looked good. He had just come from work and was all dressed up as he read the paper and waited for me. We gave each other compliments and chatted about the stuff that has happened to us over the years. He's single, but not happily so. He told me about how he wants to get married and have kids, but he can't find the right one. He said everyone he meets seems to have some kind of "agenda", whatever that means. It helped me realize that things are just as hard out here for the fellas as it is for us gals.

We were there for about two hours, just catching up. We didn't have the "I don't hate you anymore" conversation, but I think it's understood on both our ends. There are no hard feelings anymore.

So we ended the evening with a hug. Then he said, "Are you getting taller?" Heh heh. I guess I selected the right pair of boots.

Sunday Morning

Apparently, God is trying to tell me something. I haven't been to church in months and I've pretty much given up on looking for a church home. That means I either spend Sunday morning sleeping in or working out. Lately, it's been more of the former than the latter. Nowadays, even sleep has gone by the wayside because of my lovely neighbors. They are very different from the people I lived with in my previous apartment, but they have their own set of issues here.

I live on the second floor, sandwiched between 'Officer Jaheim' and Martin and Gina. Officer Jaheim got his monicker because he is a police officer and often plays Jaheim cd #1 constantly, particularly his song, "Anything." I once loved that song, until I heard it repeatedly come from his apartment. Martin and Gina are the young couple who live above me and I have the pleasure of listening to their trials and tribulations. The most interesting was when they had an argument about his cooking and he told her to "put some ketchup on it and shut the f*** up." There were shouts, slammed doors, and then the bed squeaking.

These days, the party gets started on Sundays... at 8 a.m. to be exact. Last week, I had a friend in town when Officer Jaheim and his entourage decided they wanted to blast their music at 7:45 a.m. I woke to a loud wordless song with a beat that sounded like 'boom diddity boom boom boom diddy boom.' was pissed, so I ripped off my red scarf and let my little locks flow. I knocked on their door looking my worse -- pj's, robe, glasses and morning breath. A boy answered the door and I politely asked him to turn the music down. You know what he said? "Oh, that's my mom. I'll tell her." His mom??!!!! Sheesh.

She turned it down and I went back to sleep, for a little while. An hour or so later, she decided she wanted to sing a lullaby to the baby. Do you know what lullaby she sang? "Lean wit it, Rock wit it." All I heard was a repeated chant of "lean wit it, rock wit it lean with it, rock wit it lean wit it rock wit it lean wit it rock wit it" over and over in her poor attempt at a whisper. This is going on at the same time that Martin and Gina decide they love each other and start making their own music on that broken down bed of theirs.

This morning it was more of the same, but I had to wake up early anyway. This time, Officer Jaheim's teenage daughter was playing what sounded like Kelis' new cd. I was torn between asking her to turn it down and asking her to burn me a copy. So I decided on nothing and went about my business.

Our walls are thin, so I can't easily escape the sounds of the neighbors. Since Sunday is such a happening day in our building, maybe I'll run to church next week. Then I need to run to a realtor and see about buying a house. This apartment living thing has run its course in my life.

Let it be said ....

... that I hate baseball.
... that I think it's the most boring sport on earth.
....that I've gone to several baseball games only for the hot dogs and atmosphere.
...that many have tried and failed to get me to love this sport.

But let it be said ....

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!GO TIGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

New Year's Resolutions, Part Deux

Here I sit at work on a Friday night. (Oh yes, I'm blogging at work!) Basically, I volunteered to do the grunt shift because a coworker (that's the Plantation Wife, for those of you in the know) called in sick. I'll be here until 10, putting out fires, checking myspace, blogs and other reading material.

All this heavy work I have ahead of me caused me to do some deep thinking. In a few short months, 2006 will be history and 2007 will be present. A lot of stuff will happen in the upcoming year, with the changes to Daylight Savings Time, hopefully new representation in Congress and my 30th birthday. It made me think of my buddy, good ol' 2006, and all the promises I made to him in January.

My year was born pretty pitifully on my living room floor as I watched New Year's Rockin' Eve. I had to fight back tears everytime I heard Dick Clark's strained voice, trying to sound as excited as he did in all the previous celebrations. I realized I was getting old then, so I fell to my knees and .... made out my resolution list. Right then and there, I established a few goals for myself in 2006 -- get something published (short story or book), work out regularly and hopefully get Janet Jackson abs, and find a new church. I wrote these plans in my journal and couldn't wait to implement them.

In March, I had to tweak the list. I immediately eliminated the Janet Jackson abs, as I do every year. I mean, the chick has millions of dollars, she could've paid somebody to suck out her ribs and smooth out her belly. Plus, I hate sit ups. They make my neck hurt. Still working on getting published, new church and working out regularly.

Come June, I'm not moved by any of the churches I visited. None of them (there were only three, but still) were inspiring enough for me to want to join. That exercise thing has fallen by the way side a little bit. By this point, it's summer and it's time to show off the working out that was conducted in the winter months. I was lucky to go to the gym two days a week. Methinks I'll start running! Getting published was still my priority. I planned to wake up at 5 a.m. and write for an hour, then go to work and write on my lunch break. I'll write a short story a week and send them out, until someone picks up my stuff. (That grueling schedule went out the window the next day)

Now it's October and the slate is clear. I'm fishing for resolutions for 2007. Still trying to get published, although I'm getting sick of those friggin' rejection letters. Maybe I'll be better organized. I should probably put that at the top of my list. I should spend more time with my parents, apparently a once a month visit isn't good enough for Moms. I definitely should control my addictions, particularly one I have to that Egyptian game mentioned in a previous post. (More about that issue in a future post). That's all I can think of right now. Feel free to leave me some suggestions.

My wardrobe malfunction

I wasn't going to post anything today, because I was tired, irritable and had a raging case of PMS, mixed in with a twinge of my annual Seasonal Affective Disorder. But then I figured ... what better time to blog than when I'm feeling like dirt?

This morning, I overslept, which is pretty typical for me. But it was my own fault, since I was up until nearly 2 a.m. trying to save my little Egyptians from the Kushite invaders in this addicting computer game that I have. I was prepared for a late night because I had already laid out my clothes for the next day and packed my lunch. So things should go smoothly in the a.m., right? Right?

Naw, that would be too easy. I hop out of bed to slip into my skirt, only to find that I have no clean panty hose. Now I'm frantic because 80 percent of clothes are sitting in my hamper, waiting to be washed (I wasn't lying, Juicy!). So I start pulling things from my hanger until I find a top that doesn't need to be ironed. I slip it on and there's a hole in the center. Grrrr. I grab another shirt and I have to iron it five times until it's presentable. I hate what I'm wearing, but I'm late to work, so I have to go.

All day long, I sit at my computer screen hoping that no one will notice the inappropriateness of my outfit. I was dressed in practically all brown -- dark brown pants, light brown top and brown boots. I looked like a UPS worker or as some of my high school friends would say -- 'Earth Toned Ethel.' (This was a name we gave a female classmate who wore brown from head to toe every day). Plus, I needed to get my hair and eyebrows done, so I felt totally off kilter. Then I had this ongoing desire for chocolate. Yummy!

Well, somehow I got through it. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

Operation 'Something New'

A high school friend of mine recently got married. They had a small ceremony outside of the state and are having a reception here, to which I am invited. So far, I'm dateless and I'm one of his few single friends. I imagine that there will be very few black women there since my friend 'Victor' is marrying a white woman and several of his friends also have white wives. That's fine for them, but it has helped me come up with a plan that I have devised as Operation: 'Something New.'

This move is based on a movie by the same name. My plan was simple. I was going to take one of my white male friends to the reception and have him pretend to be my man. I wanted to do this partly because I didn't want to go to the reception alone and also because I wanted to give the men there a taste of their own medicine. The black men I know who date white women would say they believe in a color blind society and all that nonsense, but as soon as they see a sista walk by with a white man, they get irate. Surely tongues would wag if I bought my own set of porcelain to the party. Hence, Operation: Something New.

I selected the perfect target -- Ezra. He was an easy choice, since he is the only single and good looking guy at my workplace. I thought he was cute when I first met him, but I was a bit turned off because his girlfriend was a slut. (Gosh, I hate that word. I'll just call her a 'woman of ill repute.' ) Anyway, we got to know each other and I let him into my minority wrecking crew at work, which consisted of myself, a Latino, Trevor (an ambigious looking white man) and Ezra, a Jew. Fun times.

Anywho, the date for this reception is frighteningly close and I've made no moves to implement my plan. Things are further complicated now because I think Ezra and a new female supervisor are embroiled in a secret romance, even though they both have denied the rumors. The way I see it, I have three choices: 1. Pull Ezra aside and say, "would you like to perform a social experiment with me? Maybe afterward we could conceive a little Halle Berry or Lenny Kravitz?"
2. Give my gay friend a straight makeover and have him accompany me to the wedding.
3. Go by myself and try to stay away from both the wine and Victor's freaky father. That could be a lethal combination.

Actually, any one of those options could make a humorous blog post sometime in the future. I'll get back later with my decision.