Now I DO Wanna Play

One of the things I miss about being a kid is how easy it was to make friends, girlfriends in particular. You show up to algebra class and are assigned to work with the chick next to you. Friend. You’re late to school and have to slip into math class unnoticed, when someone discretely opens the door for you. Friend. Your senile English teacher keeps confusing you with the Italian -- not the other black girl -- in class, simply because you both get good grades. Friend, Amico.

But it gets harder to make those connections when you’re an adult. My post college years were spent in a state where I knew absolutely no one. Everyone in my satellite office was older, married and too uninteresting for me to want to hang out with. So I went on the prowl for some friends, and wound up with a series of one night stand friends. You know those friends, the ones you only hang out with because you don’t want to go to that movie/concert/art exhibit/restaurant by yourself? Well I had quite a few. There was the Insecure one, who often needed to be told that there was nothing wrong with her outfit; the Alcoholic one, who peed in my car after a night of drinking; the Cheap one, who could never do anything because she always “only had $5”; and the Hypochondriac, who had to bail on several outings because she didn’t have her back acne medication. It took me quite a while before I found some good friends who fill the void.

So that brings me to today. See, I’ve met someone. *blushes* Rosie and I have had casual conversations as we wait for the gym doors open at 6 a.m. I’ve learned we have a lot in common. She’s around my age and appreciates fine literature and cinema as much as I do. That’s right, she’s a Harry Potter/True Blood/Lord of the Rings/Game of Thrones kinda gal. So when Alcide (True Blood) disrobed shortly before transforming into a werewolf, we swooned together all throughout spin class. When she and her boyfriend got tickets to the Harry Potter Theme Park, we became screaming teenage girls. When she bought the Game of Thrones book series, she promised I could borrow it since I was HBO-less when the series aired. But those 15 minutes we chat before class just doesn’t seem enough, and after class we’re both running to work. I’d like to take things to the next step -- dinner, a movie maybe -- but I’m not sure how to go about it without seeming like a weirdo. Yet there is something about Rosie that whenever I see her, the theme song to ‘Girlfriends’ rings out in my head.


Rosie sent me an email recently, letting me know that a work project is interfering with her workouts, so she won’t be back to class until like mid August. Well, that sucks, and I told her so. Then we did our True Blood and Harry Potter gossip and that was that. But what now? Do I email her back with my opinions on last season’s True Blood (Can you believe what Bill did to Sookie? And OMG! That ALCIDE!!)? Do I ask if she’s finished Friday Night Lights yet, and how will we ever survive without Coach Taylor? Do I inquire about the Game of Thrones book? Or do I ....*sigh*.... wait till August? Anyway, it’s all under consideration. Thankfully, I do have a nice amount of good friends. It is rare that I want to open the circle for one more, but Rosie seems like she might have the qualifications.

And as a tribute to good Girlfriends everywhere, here’s a clip of the only web series I’m watching these days:

Vacation -- The Afterglow

I just returned from a fabulous island/beach vacation. I was gone for seven whole days and Toni Braxton was right, that is way to long to go without getting in touch. So here's what I did while I was away.

I shot stuff with my new camera:







I drank stuff:

----- That's an Obamarita. It wasn't that great, but I drank it for vacation's sake

I ate stuff:

--- That's an apple fritter. According to the bakery, one is good enough to feed three people. I shared one with two friends, and it has taken me two days to finish the one I bought for just little ole me.

I beached, I read, I napped outdoors:

I watched other people exercise, without feeling guilty:




And most importantly, I was honored to see one of my oldest friends get married:





Tomorrow it is back to reality, and work. Playtime is over. Sigh.

She's Baaaack

I mentioned before how I’d been avoiding my good friend “Sheila”, because all of our outings tend to revolve around me sitting in on various kid-friendly events. Yes it may sound cruel from the outside, but picture yourself as a single, 30 something eager to spend time with a friend who only invites you to Chuck E Cheese and kindergarten singalongs. This was not a good look for me in the 21st century.

While I didn’t let go of our friendship, but I scaled it back to ‘see as needed’ levels. I must admit, the last time we hung out, she made every attempt to make things adult. We decided to go to dinner, so she picked me up. Somehow, our plans evolved into going to a restaurant where her friend was having a “party.” It was in this restaurant’s tiny room where I endured 67 minutes of the most boring, foodless pyramid scheme I had ever endured. My stomach growled so loud that it sounded like a cell phone with a dying battery. When they finally unveiled the food, it was a bunch of teeny-tiny appetizers, not even enough to feed everyone who gathered there. I remember leaving there a bitter, hungry wretch, then racing home to eat everything in sight.

Sheila and I exchanged a few halfhearted emails and texts after that. I’ve been keeping up with her from a distance. Her older child – the attitudinal daughter – has gone off to college. Her younger son – my road dog, who has the best dimples I’ve ever seen – is in all sorts of activities and is often on the honor roll. And this week I had the pleasure of receiving a message from her, inviting me to her birthday party next month. I hope her definition of “party” has changed since the last time we hung out. **FINGERS CROSSED**

Photo from http://info.blogged.com.s3.amazonaws.com/info02545297a29d9fdf43e9763cda81dcd5.jpg

The Only Friend

I’ve known Kate for a few years, ever since I started graduate school. Our program is small, so everyone knows each other and tends to take classes together. Yet Kate and I became close when we struggled with a challenging research class (with challenging classmates), and I later discovered that she teaches in the community that I live in. As we continue to battle through the thesis process, we’d get together and chat about various things. She mentions her woes of being a teacher and not getting a raise this year, and I would politely tell her to STFU since she makes more money than me and I can’t even remember the last time I got a raise. Then we’d laugh and talk about other things.

The last time I saw her we had one of our hilarious dinners at Olive Garden. It was hilarious because we had the worst waiter in the world. The poor thing meant well, but he gave me spaghetti in meat sauce when I clearly wanted spaghetti and meatballs and her order for ravioli also got messed up. Everytime we go out to eat, something crazy happens. She told me she was going to have surgery for her knee and that she was pretty nervous about it. I told her to calm down, things would be fine.

And they were. She sent me an email after the surgery, saying that things went well and that she was recuperating at her brother’s home. I promised her I’d come see her once I returned from vacation. So I went off to the beach without a care in the world.

Then I get a phone call yesterday on Kate’s cell phone, but it was Kate’s mother talking. I’m kind of morbid, so as soon as I heard her mother’s voice I immediately panicked and thought that something horrible happened to Kate, that she was on the road dead somewhere. I was close. Her mother told me that she developed a horrible blood clot after the surgery. She woke up in the middle of the night and had trouble bleeding, then immediately called an ambulance. The doctors said that if she hadn’t called for help, she would have died in her sleep.

The whole story was jarring. But I was touched when her mother told me about how Kate thought of me as a good friend and how much our outings meant to her. Kate is from another state and it seems like I’m her only friend in this area. So today I’m going to round up a card and my game face before I head out to the hospital this evening to wish her well. I hope she can recover quickly from this.

The Post-Vacay Spin (*"Have a great day everybody. Be the sunshine. Not a cloud.")

1. I just got back from a fabulous three-day trip to the beach

2. It was good lounging with friends and meeting new people

3. The food was also great, forcing me to cheat on my vow of No Sweets Until Aug. 16

4. But I only had one slice of apple pie, so if I can get through the rest of this month with no other desserts, I'll consider that an accomplishment!

5. I'll soon post pictures of the vacation, I promise

6. Yet now I'm busy getting out of vacation mode, which means I have to work on my thesis (UGH) and clean this messy apartment (UGH UGH!)

7. In the meantime, I made an offer on a condo a few days ago. Still waiting on an answer. Sigh.

Have a great week everyone!

(*Tweet from Terry McMillan, 11:51 a.m. July 27)

One Queen & A Baby

I agreed to this godmother duty a little over a year now and my tasks had been pretty easy. The hardest parts have been the inquisition that the Catholic Church subjected me to, and then attending the baptism ceremony, which was literally 574574574574 hours long. Other than that, I'm more than happy to pop in for any birthday parties the godchildren may have, where I shower them for gifts, get them in trouble, and promptly go home. (Fyi, when I say godchildren I'm talking about my friend's two kids: 'P', her toddler, and 'B', her teenage stepson)





So I was in the throes of unattached happiness when the phone rang and my friend gave me the 10 words that literally made my knees buckle: "Would you mind watching the baby for a few hours?" Now, I knew this was bound to happen, since my friend had been involved in a nightmare of a childcare situation. She knew I had the day off, she and husband had to get to work and they needed someone to watch the baby 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. and would I do it? 'Sure thing!' I said without hesitation.





Now, it's been a looong time since I've been unattended with a little person. The last kid I had babysitting domain over is now 13, so I'm a bit out of my element. Dear P is a 1 year old chubby cheeked ponytailed bundle of energy. She came with a bag of toys -- two teddy bears; Lulu, a doll who counted to 10 VERY LOUDLY; a 'Happy birthday' dvd and a couple of books.





However, P’s favorite activity was running around in circles and laughing. Yet that didn’t compare to the sheer joy she felt when she came up to my entertainment center and promptly threw all of my dvds on the floor. She quickly put them back up, only to knock them back down again. This went on for awhile and it was quite amusing. Whenever she’d get agitated, I’d try to get her to say my name. My name is a mouthful for any tyke, so I decided to teach her to call me Queen. That was much easier!


Once she bored with my dvds, P got to my magazine collection. I tried to steer her toward the magazines I didn’t care about – the Shape with Jennifer Love Hewitt on the cover, the Cosmopolitan featuring Kim Kardashian, etc. I had to do some serious interference when she lunged for my special Vogues – those featuring Michelle Obama and Jennifer Hudson. Finally, she settled on my Victoria’s Secret catalog. Hey, the girl’s got good taste.



No evening with a tyke would be complete without a sudden strange smell and the dirty diaper that follows it. And let me tell you …. THAT WAS SOMETHING. But we survived. P’s dad picked her up promptly at 6 pm, just like he said he would and the family thanked me hundreds of times.



After P left, this strange feeling fell over me and I realized how quiet my home really is. So I jumped on my couch and took a nice, long nap. I truly earned that bad boy.

Photo from http://i245.photobucket.com/albums/gg62/witchyhoy3/thetruth.jpg

Baptism Backlash

So, today was the first day of my official godmother duty. The goddaughter is Catholic (actually, her father, Homeboy, is a lapsed Catholic and her mother, Homegirl, is down for whatever), so myself and her godfather had to join the baby's parents at their church for baptismal training. When Homegirl told me about this training, I expected it to be no more than instructions on where to stand on the day of the christening and who was going to hold the baby and where. Boy, was I wrong.

We get to the class five minutes early, but you'd think you were late from the way the session leader, Miss Christine, shot daggers at us. We rushed to take our seats as she fired out questions: "Why do you want to be a godparent?" "What's the role of the godparent?" "Why do we even have to get baptized in the first place?" She shouted out these questions at random. Of course, she got to the Godfather first and he explained that he was a Catholic, and he was devoted to Homegirl and Homeboy, as well as their little baby. He said he'd do everything he could to make sure goddaughter walked a straight and narrow path. Now, I just met Godfather before the ceremony and he told me he was an atheist. Not only was he an atheist, but his wife was wiccan, before she decided to be an atheist too. Yet somehow, he won Miss Christine over with his line of hogwash.

I was about to laugh until Miss Christine called on me. She wanted me to tell her why I wanted to be a godparent, my relationship with Homegirl and Homeboy aside. I stumbled through a few things on how I just wanted to be there for the baby when she grew up and stuff like that. When I mentioned I was a Baptist, a gasp came over the room. Then Miss Christine explained that the church only wanted Catholic parents to be godparents to Catholic children, but I could still do it, since Godfather was a Catholic. (Hah! If she only knew!)

Miss Christine mentioned that Homegirl's stepson also needed to be baptized and they needed godparents for him as well. Miss Christine eagerly nominated Godfather for the position. When Homeboy and Homegirl selected me as the godmother again, she was less then eager. "Well, I guess that'll work ...." she practically whispered.

After about an hour of enduring the Sunday School SATs and answering questions about sin and original sin, we learned that Homegirl and Homeboy were unable to get the baby baptized this weekend anyway. They got their dates confused and would be out of town. Plus, they just realized they needed to find a name of a saint to give to the baby and that would be read on baptismal day. So they have alot of work cut out for them.

Miss Christine was nice enough to give me some paperwork to look over while I wait for baptism day. I think she's hoping I'll be a full-fledged Catholic by then. Nice try, lady.



Photo from http://media.bigoo.ws/content/image/cartoon/cartoon_77.gif

The Return of the Shady Friend

I've mentioned before that I have a friend whom I rarely see. And when I do see her, we get involved in some kind of whack scenario that either involves her kids or we have lunch dates that end with me not eating. I haven't talked to her in awhile, so imagine my surprise when I have an email from her.

Her oldest daughter -- she has two girls, oldest one is the one with the attitude -- is selling $20 tickets for a bowling party they're having soon. It's to fund her college tour trip, or something like that. Anyway, it's coming up soon and they're asking everyone to buy tickets. Now, I would happily just give her the $20 and be on my merry way, especially since I don't know what to expect from this bowling party crowd. Is it going to be teenagers or adults? What kind of adults? 'Cause I've been around her crew before and ... well ... it's interesting.

So, I have to make a decision sometime soon. In a perfect world, I'll say I can't attend, but give her money for the college tour and make "lunch" plans with my friend. (I put lunch in quotation marks because the last time we hung out, yours truly continued to starve) Knowing me, I'll forget all about the email and miss the deadline. But we'll see what happens.


Photo from http://content.pyzam.com/graphics/insults/MJZ1272.gif

Hello Panic. I’ve Missed You!

Sometimes, I get crazy ideas in my head. Awhile back, I was chatting with some close friends about this yummy new recipe I made. They thought it sounded good and were eager to try it. So, I made plans for these two to come over for dinner.
But the idea evolved. I began thinking that perhaps I should invite Homegirl, the friend who lives fairly close that I never get to see. I couldn’t have Homegirl over without also extending the invition to Girlfriend. And I knew I’d feel really bad if Oh No She Didn’t found out about my little get together from someone else. The same thought applied to Keeping It Real. By the time I got finished creating my invite list, there were 12 people on it.

Well, I sent the email out and I did what I normally do, I panicked. Not all of my friends know each other, so I couldn’t help but worry about what would happen if Homegirl and Sister, Not Sistah didn’t get along. I have the same concerns about It’s Because I’m Black and the white guests I’ve invited.

I also have worries about how I’m strategically going to fit this amount of people in my apartment. I’ve had people over before, but never for something as simple as dinner. In one of my weaker moments, I googled ‘hosting a dinner party’. Not a good idea. Now I’m also worried about the meal I’m serving, the playlist I’m making (Is Lil Wayne not good dinner party music?) and those two plates I have don’t match my existing set. And God forbid I serve She Caught The Vapors when everything is not up to parr.

In the end, I’ve decided to stop overthinking it. This is a get together of friends for food, convo and laughs, nothing more. Hopefully, it’ll stay that way. Yes, I’m still freaking out on the inside, but that’s what I do. My first task? To start cleaning this apartment!

Photo from http://www.bealesgourmet.com/images/gallery1/Dinner%20party%20in%20the%20garden.jpg

Shopping While Selfish

A few months ago, I was at an event where I saw an item that would make the perfect gift for a relative of mine. So, I bought it. I was eager to give this gift to the relative, but then it occurred to me: Why not save it and make it a Christmas gift? So that's what I did.

In the months that followed, I went on an intense hunt for Christmas presents. This was the first year that I actual thought about what I'd buy in advance, then went to the stores long before they started offering their holiday sales. But there is a method to my madness. For each gift I buy, I buy a little somethin' somethin' for myself.

For example, I was at the bookstore the other day a few weeks ago and I saw the perfect gift for Mom. That meant that I was justified to go to H&M and buy that shirt that I'd been eyeing. I saw the perfect gift for my stepfather on Amazon. But, in order to get that super saver shipping, I just had to buy something for moi. So I took a look at my Wish List and bought Self Editing for Fiction Writers. Then I went on and got a few gifts for more relatives and friends. I was on a roll.

I have a few odds and ends to fill in with the gifts, but I have a majority of it done. I have a ton of shopping plastic bags sitting in my bedroom, just waiting to be wrapped. Of course, I also have another pile that is filled with stuff for me. But what can I say? This is the time of giving. And I can't think of a better person to gift than myself. After all, I was a good girl this year!


Photo from: http://djspeak.blogspot.com/2007/12/dear-santa-claus.html

On Godmotherhood

A few years ago, I walked in on a coworker who was in the midst of a very heated telephone conversation. She was obviously annoyed and ended the conversation with, "Congratulations on the new baby. But I will NOT be a godmother to any of your kids again." Then she slammed down the phone.

I was going to pretend I hadn't heard a thing, but "Denise" started to complain to me about how all of her friends kept having babies, then making her the godmother, presumably, because she had a good job and was making good money. She mentioned how she only heard from certain friends until the kids' birthday, Christmas, Easter, or other holidays. Then, the friend never called to chat, they only wanted to know what gifts Denise would be buying for the kid. Some friends didn't even officially ask Denise to be the godmother. They'd wait until something big came up -- like the kid got the honor roll -- then ask Denise why she hadn't sent the kid any money. "I tell all my friends, 'please do NOT make me a godmother ever again,'" Denise had said. "It's too stressful."

But I couldn't relate to any of the things Denise was saying. Very few of my friends had children at the time and the ones who did didn't approach me about being a godmother. Unlike Denise, I wanted that title. I thought it would be kind of cool to be the hip person in the kids' life, the one that would let s/he eat candy, take the kid shopping or get its ears pierced. I could have a ton of fun with said kid and then send it right on back to its parents. Good stuff.

One of my friends had a baby a few months ago. I went to the baby shower, sent a gift and even saw her new daughter when she came home from the hospital. Cute baby. Mom seemed happy and I thought my work was done. But shortly after that the Mom surprised me a bit by asking me to be the godmother. I was taken aback, because even though the Mom and I have known each other for years, we've had our moments and we even struggle to keep in touch these days. All the drama is in the past now, but I wasn't sure if we had moved forward enough for me to be the godmother. But I guess we had.

So, I told her I'd be honored to take the title. Now I'm waiting for information about the christening and I have added the baby to my Christmas shopping list. I can't wait until the kid is old enough that I can take her out with me, and I can use her as an excuse to do kid stuff (i.e. see "High School Musical 3", "Wall-E", etc). So far, so good.

It's YOU Again

It took me awhile, but I’ve decided not to get played. Ever again.

See, I have this friend, who I’ve mentioned before. Loves her, we go way back, back to a time when I was nine and in pigtails. I’ve always looked up to her and admired her (she’s seven years older than me)

But, boy have things changed.

For starters, there’s that bad a$$ child of hers, but I’ve already written about that, so I won’t beat a dead issue. I’ll just talk about the odd things that seem to occur whenever we hangout.

When we got in contact again a few years ago, the events were always as follows – meeting her at Headstart so I can watch her kids do their cheers, going to a Chucky Cheese birthday party, etc. Most recently, she called me up and asked me to go to dinner with her, just me and her. I jumped at the chance.

After we couldn’t figure out a place to meet, she suggested the bright idea of joining her friend’s party she was throwing at a seafood restaurant. Now, I wasn’t too keen of just up and joining a catered party that I wasn’t invited to, but she assured me everything would be okay. Cool beans. We get there and what do I see? Pyramid scheme!

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Homegirl had a powerpoint presentation and was discussing the joys of her newfound business and how we should join up with her. But the kicker was that there was NO FOOD during this entire time and I was HUNGRY. Homegirl talked nonstop for a full 90 minutes. I know the time because my friend and I continued to text each other about how bored we were and how we hoped it would be over soon.

Yet, when it ended, they bought out the food…and it was FINGER FOOD! A row of little chicken drumettes …. (at a seafood restaurant!) …. And very little else! But because I was hungry, I chomped on that chicken as if I hadn’t eaten in 30 years.

Fast forward a few months. She sends me a text about this party that her friend and her hubby are giving soon. It’s a black & white affair and tickets cost $15. One part of my mind wonders if this is a black-tie, get dressed up shindig. Then another part of my mind wonders if this is the same friend with the pyramid scheme from hell. As someone else pointed out to me, she may have me dressed up in some black and white waitress uniform the way her track record has been going.

So I made up an excuse and politely declined. But I don’t want to avoid her forever. There must be common ground somewhere.

(Photo from http://wwwdelivery.superstock.com/WI/223/1049/PreviewComp/SuperStock_1049-15002.jpg)

Fear of A Black Pregnancy

Pregnant women scare me.

There, I said it.

Maybe scared isn’t the correct terminology. They cause me some discomfort, is a more accurate description. Whenever I learn someone is expecting, I glare down at her stomach as if I’m expecting the kid to just bust out and greet me. Don’t even get me started if the woman is advanced in her pregnancy. I can’t help but think that her water will burst and I’ll be forced to deliver the bouncing babe. That’s definitely not a thing I want to do.

I say all this because a close friend of mine is pregnant. It is good news and I’m happy for her. She is due in the fall and is barely showing. We went out for some food recently and she couldn’t eat because she can’t keep anything down. She just drank her soda and watched longingly as I ate my meal. We walked around a little bit and I told her she needed to be careful because she had “all kinds of stuff inside” her. Knowing my squeamishness with all things related to pregnancy, she cracked up.

Anywho, I see this thing as a good thing, mainly because I’ll be an auntie for the first time in my life. Those of you with siblings don’t understand what it’s like to be an only child and know that you’ll never have a niece or nephew to give the coveted ‘aunt’ title before your name. This is my first close friend to have a baby, so I’m hoping this tyke will fulfill my needs. This is a friend I see only sporadically, so I may not be hunted down often for gifts and whatnot, but who knows. However, I do reserve the right to give up my auntie duties if this kid is bad. I guess that’s the good thing about being a fake aunt. I can easily give up my rights.

(Photo from http://www.openentrance.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/pregbw8707.jpg)

The Other Woman

I met the Other Woman not too long ago and she had the nerve to be pretty darn cool. We could have been friends in another life, if it weren’t for our circumstances. But she took it upon herself to steal my man, so we can’t get any closer.

My man is none other than a dude named James Joyce (not his real name, obviously). He and I have been holding it down since 2000. He is always around whenever I need a movie date or an excuse to go shopping. He cooks me extravagant meals and refers to any one of my nemeses as That Bitch. Allow me to state the obvious. James Joyce is gay.

He and I were big ‘Felicity’ fans back in the day, so we share an undying love for Keri Russell. We had planned to see ‘Waitress’ together, but that didn’t work out, so we made plans to see ‘August Rush’ together. Recently, we had a phone conversation where he confessed that he already saw August Rush. With his coworker, Ana, The Other Woman. Apparently, she scored free tickets and asked him to come along. It was all so last minute that there was no way he could say no. Or so he said.

Anyway, I was at the bookstore the other day, minding my own business, when who do I run into? Yes. Ana, that freaking palindrome. We make small talk and I play nice with her, until she tells me that she was just coming back from seeing "Charlie Wilson's War" with J.J. Immediately, my antenna springs up. I can't remember the last time he invited me to a movie. So what if I never expressed a desire in seeing Charlie Wilson, he needs to respect my role as the designated movie date! I mentioned something about J.J.'s movie tastes and she decided then to tell me that he hates that nickname. Well, excuse the heck outta me!

J.J. (yes, I'm still going to call him that) is planning a party that is supposed to help Ana and I get to know each other better and eliminate any animosity between us. Whatever. That chick better step off and realize that I'm the Grace to his Will. Hmph!

(Photo from http://www.felicitypage.com/imgs/felicity.jpg)

On Felix, Kay and Jamaica: Mission Impossible

I have returned from my week of the sea, the beach and now I'm back in reality. Sigh.

In short, I had a FABULOUS vacation, even though it started out on a sour note. My cruise -- which was expected to hit Grand Cayman and Ocho Rios, Jamaica -- had to be rerouted because of Hurricane Felix. The storm forced our fearless captain to change our route, so we went to Cozumel, Mexico and Freeport, Bahamas instead. I was a bit disappointed about the changes, since this is the second time my Travel Buddy and myself attempted to go to Jamaica. We tried to go there with a group in 2005, but the trip changed and we wound up going to Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. I had a great time on that trip as well, but I can't help but desiring Jamaica even more. Sigh. I'll have to add that to my dream trip list, right up there with Egypt.

Anyway, this was the first cruise for TB and I. Day one we both showed up on the boat with a combined total of four hours of sleep and empty bellies. But we couldn't eat until the captain did a demonstration on the emergency exits and we returned our life jackets to safe places. Once we finally ate, we planned to take a little nap before we explored the boat. Well, what was planned to be a small, 1-hour nap, turned into a 11 hour slumber and we didn't wake up until early the next morning. Because we missed a series of announcements that first day, we spent much of the time not knowing what time we were supposed to eat in the dining room, that there was some kind of competition going on and which team we were on for the competition. Eventually, we got things together.

TB and I had been to Mexico before, although it was Puerto Vallarta instead of Cozumel. Cozumel is a mostly undeveloped island in the Carribbean with nice, sandy beaches. Our guide, Cesar, took us through the town, which was pretty much abandoned in the daylight (methinks this place is more of a nighttime spot) and it was filled with tons of shops and aggressive salesmen who chase people down the street to sell just about anything. We ate at a nice restaurant called Tiki Tok where I had the quesadilla of life and the main drag was filled with the American bastardizations of McDonald's, Blockbuster, etc. Cesar also hipped us to the beauty of black coral and ways that it can become this without hurting the environment, which is now making me regret not buying that heart-shaped ring one of the aggressives tried to sell me.

I don't have my Mexico pix developed yet (they're on the disposable camera), but I do have several of the Bahamas. That up top is me making my descent into the water at the Freeport beach. This is very significant because neither myself, nor TB, can swim. (I know, I know ... I should learn). Here are some more Bahamas pix:

Here's us setting up and getting ready for the water:

Me digging my toes in the sand:

One of the things that I got a kick out of on this cruise was the towel animals. Each night, we'd return to our room with a different animal made out of our towels and washcloths. It cracked me up! By the end of the week, we had three animals -- a elephant, a snail/squid and a walrus..... I think. I tried to get the animals in an erotic pose on the last day, but that didn't work out too well. (Hey, I get my kicks wherever I can!) Anyway, here's the animal art. Please let me know if the animals aren't what I say they are.

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!

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

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)

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)

Lt. Mayonnaise

About a year ago, I was forced to sit behind a guy I couldn't stand at work. For the most part, he was quiet. But when he did open his mouth, he was loud and obnoxious, often saying offensive things to the people who sat around us. He was also a big flirt. I'll never forget the day he asked an old woman in our department if she'd ever been spanked. I assumed she'd get offended, but she blushed and giggled as she walked away. That was the effect Dice had on everyone. He was the guy that you either loved to hate or hated to love.

Eventually, Dice (nicknamed after Andrew "Dice" Clay) became my sidekick. He was the only other person of color in our office so we became each other's 'go-to' person. He showed me around the city I worked in the way no one else did. Dice hipped me to Simmy's, a spot where I could get everything from chitterlings to moo goo gai pan. We made frequent runs to the dollar store and I allowed him to hide his goodies in the bottom drawer of my desk. He told me the true meaning of the word "skank" ('a skank is a broad who hooks up with all your friends, but won't give you the time of day') and I helped him clean up his language when referring from women. I got him to go from skank to broad and finally to chick. Unfortunately, that was as far as I could get him to go.

Dice lived a mysterious life so we were all caught by surprise when he quit and said he needed to go "find himself." He said his goodbyes, piled into his truck and drove off to some distant land. A woman was hired to take his place. Although she was very nice, I missed having someone who understood what CP Time meant and could accompany me to Simmy's.

Eventually, Dice returned to tell us of his adventures. He had been in Officer Candidates School and was now a lieutenant. Everyone congratulated him and then the 'An Officer & a Gentleman' jokes started. Someone even nicknamed him Lt. Mayonnaise after Richard Gere's character.

I talked to Dice about a week ago when he gave me the news: He's going to Iraq. He's set to leave sometime in June and he wasn't sure how long he would be over there. He sounded upbeat, about as upbeat as you can sound about a war. I told him I'd keep him in my prayers and made him promise to send me his information once he got settled. (Already at work, plans are underway to send him care packages). I also made him make an even more important promise. When Dice returns, he'll have to come to our office in full uniform. When he finds me, he'll pick me up and we'll march outside like Debra Winger and Richard Gere. Unlike the movie, I'll have to go back inside to work. And he'll have to run around town chasing "skanks."

(Photo courtesy of http://www.topfoto.co.uk/gallery/LoveisintheAir/images/thumbs/0552127.jpg)

Twins

Growing up, I was always the girl with a twin. No matter where I went, there was always another skinny black girl with thick glasses. Whether I knew this girl or not, folks would always ask me if we were twins, sisters, cousins or whatever. Usually, my doppleganger and I would exchange frowns and say in unison, "I don't look like her!"

In sixth grade, my twin was "Penny". We were both in class H27, which meant we were part of a group that took all classes together. The first few days of school everyone made comparisons to us. Teachers would say Strength when they meant Penny and vice versa. We would both roll our eyes. I guess, like me, she had had her share of twins and was sick of it.

Unlike the others, Penny and I actually became friends. She was probably my best friend in school at that time, since I had another best friend in the neighborhood. The twins thing was still something everyone used to tease us about. One of our teachers -- drama, I think -- took it further and labeled us the Good Twin and the Bad Twin. Guess which one I was? I was very expressive (read: talkative, goofy) back then and the teachers just didn't understand me. Yet Penny was quiet and disciplined, always getting her work done perfectly. It was sickening.

For whatever reason, Penny and I had a falling out at the end of the year. I can't remember specifically what the problem was. I think she did something to piss me off, so I phased her out of my life. In true passive, aggressive fashion, we didn't speak for the rest of the school year. I got new friends and so did she. I went to another school the following year and we never spoke again.

Until the advent of Myspace.

I was fooling around on the site one day when I stumbled upon her name. I wondered if she remembered me, so I sent her an email. Turns out, she did remember me and added me to her friends list. She lives in another state, where she is studying for a phd so she can do cancer research. It was weird because she briefly lived in the same Midwestern state that I did, but moved away once I got there.

It was cool reminiscing about old times with her. The online relationship with Penny led me into subsequent conversations with my Sixth Grade Crush, who doesn't live that far from me. From what I've learned, he has everything that I'm looking for in a man -- long locks, single status, NO KIDS, and a love of Harry Potter.

It's been weird looking at these adult photos of people I'll eternally remember as kids. No matter how long Crush's hair grows, I'll still remember him with a high top fade and a rat tail. No matter how many degrees Penny gets, I'll still remember the day she came running down the hall all excited because two boys tried to get her in a sandwich. I guess I'm still a 12-year-old girl at heart.

(Photo courtesy of http://images.inmagine.com/168nwm/digitalvision/dv530/dv530023.jpg)