Recently, I decided to be a man.
No, I didn’t start to pee standing up. I didn’t scratch myself in unsightly places, or make obnoxious bodily noises. But I did do the infamous Fade Away that they are so famous for.
Anyone familiar with the Fade Away? I’m sure you are. It refers to that period when a guy loses interest in the woman he’s seeing. Instead of calling things off with her, he does the Fade Away – stops calling, stops making plans, etc. His goal is to fade away from the females mind until she reaches the point where she wonders if he was ever there in the first place. I have yet to see this work, but you never know.
I instituted my own version of the Fade Away not too long ago. It caused me to delete a certain telephone number from my cell log and I’d avoid the phone altogether when that number appeared on my incoming call list. I ignored the emails and declined the facebook friend requests. This Fade Away thing was easy.
But then I got his email with the tragic news. A mutual friend had been killed in a motorcycle accident, so that was, in part what some of the phone calls were about. Of course, I called him and shared my condolences. The conversation eventually turned into things I wished I’d forgotten – how we once went on a double date with the accident victim & his wife, my sucky bowling scores, how much his mother likes me.
He ended our chat with a somber ‘keep in touch’, but he must’ve known that I wouldn’t. I hung up and tried my damndest not to remember the good ole days, not to get emotional. I failed. Sighness. I guess being a man is just as tough as being a woman. Perhaps this Fade Away thing isn’t such a good idea after all.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
On Being Content
I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I google people. Sometimes quite often.
There will be times when I’ll have a lull in the day where I’ll think about someone, wonder what they’re doing, google their name and mystery solved. Sometimes the mystery isn’t solved, but it’s just as well. These are people who are usually friends/acquiantances/coworkers that I’ve lost touch with. They are people that I wouldn’t necessarily call, but I’m still curious about them.
There will be times when I’ll have a lull in the day where I’ll think about someone, wonder what they’re doing, google their name and mystery solved. Sometimes the mystery isn’t solved, but it’s just as well. These are people who are usually friends/acquiantances/coworkers that I’ve lost touch with. They are people that I wouldn’t necessarily call, but I’m still curious about them.
The other day I wondered about Holly. Holly and I interned for the same company in the summer of 1999. Actually, we worked for two different companies but they shared a building. Weird, huh? We were both working in Philly and were excited about our times in the big city.
Our bosses would send ous out for various tasks, some exciting, some not. Often, I would see her there doing the same thing. We’d smile and chat briefly, but it was clear that she was the competition. In our own polite way, we went for each other’s jugular for three months.
The other day I randomly thought of her and googled her name. I learned that she’s doing pretty well, living in another country and working – something that I dreamed of doing years ago. I read her bio and a strange feeling came over for me. It wasn’t jealousy or animosity. I actually felt happy for her.
I no longer have the desire to do some of the things I once intended to do. The dreams I had as a girl changed once I got into college, changed again when I got into the Real World and at this stage, are being chiseled and refined. I am content.
So go fight the good fight, Holly. I’m back here, cheering you on!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
The Lunch Crunch
In recent months, I decided to switch up my lunch routine a little bit. In the past, I would always bring my lunch, eat it at my desk, then run to the library for the duration of my break to get away from the office and escape my colleauges.
But that has changed. I don’t know why I started this, but all of a sudden, I’m bringing my book (in some cases books) and eating in the office cafeteria. This area is usually pretty quiet. The only person I see in there is a grumpy old man who enters every day at 12:05 p.m. to read the newspaper, cover to cover. He gets annoyed whenever people make noise, and plugs his ears as a sign of protest. Of course, that only makes people (namely me) make more noise as they move chairs around, or hit the vending machine’s brows button.
Recently, people have come to join me in the office cafeteria. The first person, Bunny, had to grow on me. She reads while she eats too, but she also likes to talk. Not talk, complain, about the job, our coworkers, etc. I’m all for a tad bit of office griping, but she takes it to another level. Eventually, she took the hint as I’ve limited our convos to our books and our meals.
Then there is Candy, the caffeine addict. She comes in the cafeteria every afternoon because she desperately needs a Diet Coke. We chat for a minute, then she runs back to work. Recently, she looked upset and I made the mistake of asking her what was wrong. She nearly burst into tears as she described a huge project that had been thrust upon her at the last minute. Honestly, I didn’t think the task was that huge and I thought she was overreacting, but I didn’t say as much. I just gave her some advice, a little pep talk and sent her on her way. But that did eat up 20 minutes out of my lunch break. Twenty minutes that I may never get back!
The other day, the weather was so nice I decided to eat at our outdoor patio. Big mistake. For one, the tables are all positioned (and bolted down) in the shaded areas, where it is freezing. I tried to maneuver so I can be more in the sunshine. That worked for a little while, until I noticed the huge pack of bees --- no, no, they were WASPS – swarming toward me and my meal. Lovely. I bolted up and went to a table in the shade and sat down, only to realize much to late that the chair was wet. So I had an unfortunate wet stain on the back of my slacks. I wanted to weep.
But that has changed. I don’t know why I started this, but all of a sudden, I’m bringing my book (in some cases books) and eating in the office cafeteria. This area is usually pretty quiet. The only person I see in there is a grumpy old man who enters every day at 12:05 p.m. to read the newspaper, cover to cover. He gets annoyed whenever people make noise, and plugs his ears as a sign of protest. Of course, that only makes people (namely me) make more noise as they move chairs around, or hit the vending machine’s brows button.
Recently, people have come to join me in the office cafeteria. The first person, Bunny, had to grow on me. She reads while she eats too, but she also likes to talk. Not talk, complain, about the job, our coworkers, etc. I’m all for a tad bit of office griping, but she takes it to another level. Eventually, she took the hint as I’ve limited our convos to our books and our meals.
Then there is Candy, the caffeine addict. She comes in the cafeteria every afternoon because she desperately needs a Diet Coke. We chat for a minute, then she runs back to work. Recently, she looked upset and I made the mistake of asking her what was wrong. She nearly burst into tears as she described a huge project that had been thrust upon her at the last minute. Honestly, I didn’t think the task was that huge and I thought she was overreacting, but I didn’t say as much. I just gave her some advice, a little pep talk and sent her on her way. But that did eat up 20 minutes out of my lunch break. Twenty minutes that I may never get back!
The other day, the weather was so nice I decided to eat at our outdoor patio. Big mistake. For one, the tables are all positioned (and bolted down) in the shaded areas, where it is freezing. I tried to maneuver so I can be more in the sunshine. That worked for a little while, until I noticed the huge pack of bees --- no, no, they were WASPS – swarming toward me and my meal. Lovely. I bolted up and went to a table in the shade and sat down, only to realize much to late that the chair was wet. So I had an unfortunate wet stain on the back of my slacks. I wanted to weep.
So sometime soon, I think I’m going to have to start going to the library again. No chatty, crying colleagues or wasps there!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Riding on the MO Train
I'm not sure when it happened, exactly. It was just one of those random things that crept up on me and before I knew it, I wanted, needed more. The thing is, when I like someone, I really really like them. If it's a celebrity or public figure, I read every story pertaining to him/her, defend them to the ends of the other and do my fair share of googling of them. Yes, I know. I'm quite intense.
Lately, I added a new person to my list of google faves. And that person is Michelle Obama.
The thing that I like about Michelle (or MO, as I like to call her) is that she clearly doesn't take any crap from anyone. I had my doubts about her initially, but that was only because her highly arched eyebrows scared the crap out of me. Yet that was before I knew that her eyebrows were a weapon. She can play nice and smile for the media, but there have been quite a few times when I've seen her raise them eyebrows in a way that clearly says, 'Back up -- I'm not the one.' And seriously, everyone knows to back up, even Barack (or The Rock, as I like to call him).
So when the New Yorker did a very long article on her, I had to read it, cover to cover. I'm a Today Show person myself, but I couldn't help but chuckle at the interview GMA did on the Obamas where they talked about getting a dog for their girls. In short, The Rock was hesitant, but MO shut that mess down by looking at the camera and telling the kids (eyebrows raised, mind you), "We're getting a dog." And naturally, I loved how The Rock told the GOP to back off MO.
Anyway, I was reading the newspaper the other day and learned that Michelle will be a guest host of The View on June 18. They called her up and initially asked her to be a guest. However, she did the eyebrow trick again before pointing out to the producers that Cindy McCain was on there not as a guest, but as a guest host, and MO was entitled the same. The producers agreed and are giving her what she wants.
As much as I loathe The View, I will have my VCR (no tivo or dvr folks, i'm old fashioned) set to record this one show. I can't wait to see MO interact with Elisabeth Hasselbeck. It'll be a joy to watch her get shut down.
Friday, June 06, 2008
"I Stole Your Girl While You Were In Prison" (Or, Old School Moment)
Like everyone, I love Fridays. I'm particularly a fan of Friday mornings because I can start my day with the Russ Parr Morning Show. Each Friday, he plays a mix of 'the wrong songs,' which are basically old school tracks. And each week, I enjoy them.
But today, he played one of the songs that always makes me lose my ever lovin' mind. I mean seriously. I know all the words and am not afraid to sing them. Loudly.
Like this morning. I hop in my ride, roll the windows down (still no a/c ya'll. sigh.), check the mirror and turn on the radio. To my surprise, my jam was playing. So I start screaming the lyrics and bobbing my head like I've ... well ... lost my ever lovin' mind. I turn to my left and who do I see? One of my neighbors who was staring at me with interest. She smiled, but she had a look on her face like, "clearly, the child has lost it." I was embarrassed for like two seconds, but I'm over it. Clearly, we have separate mindsets on how to prepare mentally for the work day.
Anyway, here's the video is linked here. Also, I was able to find a recent article with MC Milk Dee. You can find it here.
Image from http://image.listen.com/img/356x237/7/4/1/6/686147_356x237.jpg
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
'Twins run in our family'
I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately. There’s no reason for it, actually. I just can’t get my tail to bed on time. But the problem with that is my sleep deprivation typically causes me to have some crazy dreams when I do get to sleep. On an ordinary night, I don’t remember my dreams at all.
So the other night I had the craziest two part dream that I must share. In the first part, I was in the hospital, in labor I guess, when someone hands me two blankets with babies wrapped up in them. Apparently, I had given birth. To twins! I did not feel happy about this. All I felt was stressed and scared. And the worse part was, there was no one in the hospital room with me. Where was my support system?? I’m not meant to raise two children alone!! And all I could hear in the background was my aunt’s voice saying, ‘twins run in our family,’ which is something she actually said weeks ago.
I’m really wondering what that dream meant. I am absolutely NOT pregnant, so that theory is out the window. I’ve had recurring dreams where I am pregnant, but all in different scenarios. In each of those dreams, there’s no baby, just me filled with the constant fear of having a kid. Never have twins entered the picture. Never. And I wouldn’t say twins run in our family. We have two sets of twins -- nothing near epidemic proportions. But whatever. I’m just scratching my head as to what that dream was about.
In the second part of my dream, one of my friends was pushing me to travel to some place that she thought would be fun and exciting. Delaware. I told her repeatedly that I had been to Delaware hundreds of times and never found anything particularly fun or exciting about it, but she wouldn’t listen to me, she wanted to go. So we go there and I as I predicted, have a pretty boring time. And that’s all I remember about that part of the dream. I think I woke up laughing on that one.
Anyway, it just shows that my mind has been a jumbled mess as of late. I’ll have to go to bed earlier until I can find which bedtime works best for me.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
May Day
I promised myself long ago that today would be My Day. The Day where I wiped the slate clean and started fresh. The day where I reviewed everything that I accomplished this year and think about what I wanted to accomplish with the remainder of the year. I guess it's like a New Year's Part 2, if you will.
So I took the to-do list on my refrigerator, wiped it off and started updating it in a way that's more beneficial. I placed three categories on top -- education, writing, and other -- on the left hand side I placed the time period I expected to finish each -- week, weekend and month. For example, one of my writing tasks is placed in the month of May category, which for me, means that I must reach the 80,000 word mark in the fourth draft of my novel by the end of this month. For education, I wrote about a bunch of projects I have due by the end of the semester and when I'll finish them and the other category mainly lists household chores, i.e. coupons, vacuuming, cleaning fridge, etc.
Aside from my written goals for the month, I also have an idea of how things will be for the rest of the year. I will be better organized. I will stop spending money like it's going out of style. I will go back to church. I will exercise more. I will master the art of ALIGAF* at work. I will use a bit more of my head, less of my heart when making decisions. I will .... have fun!! Or at least, act like I am.
From today until December 31, 2008, I will make no more mistakes. Sighness. We shall see about that!
*Acting Like I Give A F***
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Prom Night
I have this strange habit of recognizing dates that are seemingly meaningless. Most people think it's weird that I acknowledge the day the anniversary of my womanhood, but hey, if I remember the date, I'm going to give it its moment of praise. Today I looked at the calendar and noticed that it is the anniversary of my senior prom.
It'd be a cliche if I started calling my high school years the good ole days, but they were. Back then, all I wanted to do was graduate and get as far away as possible. But then I got this taste of puppy love that made me rethink going away so far for my college years.
I remember that I waited till the last minute to get my prom dress (Hey, I still procrastinate. I can't help it) and a group of us arranged to be in a limo together. There were about four couples and when we showed up to take pictures, I realized that one of the other girls was wearing the same dress as me. Horror upon horrors! But whatever, we got through it.
We went to this fancy restaurant beforehand, where everyone smiled and stared at us. One of my friends reached out to say hello to me and had a wardrobe malfunction that would make the Janet Jackson thing look innocent. Afterward, we stood in this long line to get pictures, when this girl I couldn't stand came up to me and snidely mentioned that everyone inside was wearing my dress. Oh, what a bitch. If I had been less of a lady, I would've told her that people who come to prom alone because they discovered their 20-something fiance' was already engaged to someone else need not talk. But I smiled and swallowed my evil words.
I remember that my date got sick and couldn't dance that much, which was kind of annoying. I remember drinking champagne in the limo when another girl got sick and vomitted in the champagne container. I remember going to the hotel afterward, with my date thinking this would be the night and me knowing it wouldn't.
As much fun as I had in high school, I am truly glad to put those days behind me. It's only fitting that my Mom called me recently to tell me that she discovered my prom dress as she was cleaning out the closets. She was sweet enough to mention that the dress is a 3/4 and did I think I could still fit it? Funny lady.
It'd be a cliche if I started calling my high school years the good ole days, but they were. Back then, all I wanted to do was graduate and get as far away as possible. But then I got this taste of puppy love that made me rethink going away so far for my college years.
I remember that I waited till the last minute to get my prom dress (Hey, I still procrastinate. I can't help it) and a group of us arranged to be in a limo together. There were about four couples and when we showed up to take pictures, I realized that one of the other girls was wearing the same dress as me. Horror upon horrors! But whatever, we got through it.
We went to this fancy restaurant beforehand, where everyone smiled and stared at us. One of my friends reached out to say hello to me and had a wardrobe malfunction that would make the Janet Jackson thing look innocent. Afterward, we stood in this long line to get pictures, when this girl I couldn't stand came up to me and snidely mentioned that everyone inside was wearing my dress. Oh, what a bitch. If I had been less of a lady, I would've told her that people who come to prom alone because they discovered their 20-something fiance' was already engaged to someone else need not talk. But I smiled and swallowed my evil words.
I remember that my date got sick and couldn't dance that much, which was kind of annoying. I remember drinking champagne in the limo when another girl got sick and vomitted in the champagne container. I remember going to the hotel afterward, with my date thinking this would be the night and me knowing it wouldn't.
As much fun as I had in high school, I am truly glad to put those days behind me. It's only fitting that my Mom called me recently to tell me that she discovered my prom dress as she was cleaning out the closets. She was sweet enough to mention that the dress is a 3/4 and did I think I could still fit it? Funny lady.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Whoopi
Looking back, it’s probably my fault. I started this mess.
For those of you who don’t know, The Color Purple is one of my favorite movies. I’ve seen it 85745850375347547405040 times. I know most of the lines and I’m prone to bursting out with an occasional, “You told Harpo to beat me”, “Ceeeeeelieeeee!!!”, or “You sho is ugly” phrase from the movie. It keeps things interesting.
(For those of you who aren’t as obsessed with me (or you live under a rock), The Color Purple is a movie about Celie (played by Whoopi Goldberg) , an abused black woman growing up in the 1900s. She goes from victim to victor in the 30 year span of her life that’s shown on screen.)
A few years ago, my beloved Uncle Charles got his hair loced. They looked good, but he always had this little piece of hair at the center of his forehead that I thought made him look like Celie, a la’ Color Purple (see photo). So I started to tease him and spout lines from the movie. Our conversations often went like this:
For those of you who don’t know, The Color Purple is one of my favorite movies. I’ve seen it 85745850375347547405040 times. I know most of the lines and I’m prone to bursting out with an occasional, “You told Harpo to beat me”, “Ceeeeeelieeeee!!!”, or “You sho is ugly” phrase from the movie. It keeps things interesting.
(For those of you who aren’t as obsessed with me (or you live under a rock), The Color Purple is a movie about Celie (played by Whoopi Goldberg) , an abused black woman growing up in the 1900s. She goes from victim to victor in the 30 year span of her life that’s shown on screen.)
A few years ago, my beloved Uncle Charles got his hair loced. They looked good, but he always had this little piece of hair at the center of his forehead that I thought made him look like Celie, a la’ Color Purple (see photo). So I started to tease him and spout lines from the movie. Our conversations often went like this:
(Thanksgiving dinner)
Uncle Charles: Strength, can you pass the gravy?
Strength (rocking back and forth in my chair): Oh, don’t do it, Miss Celie! Don’t trade places with me Miss Celie!
( random greeting )
Uncle Charles: Hey Strength, how’s it going?
Strength: Oh, I see Mister bought his maid to the juke joint.
Uncle Charles: You know, this game is getting kinda old. Could we end it, please?
Strength: Hell, no! I said, hellllllll noooooo.
Uncle Charles: You ain’t right.
Strength: (hands raised in the air) Until you do right by me, everything you even think about is gonna crumble.
So yeah, that about sums up our relationship for those few years. Interesting enough, he cut off his locs around the time I was growing mine. Now he calls me Miss Celie, but it’s not the same, since he doesn’t know any lines from the movie.
Anyhow, here’s what’s happening to me lately:
(at the airport two yeas ago, meeting friend who hadn’t seen my locs, which are very short at this time)
Strength: Hey, good to see you.
Friend: What’s happenin’, Whoopi?!!!!!
(Getting a manicure a month ago, chatting with the white woman next to me about a book she was reading)
Woman: You have your hair like Whoopi Goldberg.
Strength: (no response, just give her a glare that I hope is menacing)
Woman: Are you a big fan of Whoopi Goldberg’s? Did you get your hair done like that so you can look like her?
Strength: (still silent, as I mentally hum Negro spirituals that keep me from punching her in the throat)
Uncle Charles: Strength, can you pass the gravy?
Strength (rocking back and forth in my chair): Oh, don’t do it, Miss Celie! Don’t trade places with me Miss Celie!
( random greeting )
Uncle Charles: Hey Strength, how’s it going?
Strength: Oh, I see Mister bought his maid to the juke joint.
Uncle Charles: You know, this game is getting kinda old. Could we end it, please?
Strength: Hell, no! I said, hellllllll noooooo.
Uncle Charles: You ain’t right.
Strength: (hands raised in the air) Until you do right by me, everything you even think about is gonna crumble.
So yeah, that about sums up our relationship for those few years. Interesting enough, he cut off his locs around the time I was growing mine. Now he calls me Miss Celie, but it’s not the same, since he doesn’t know any lines from the movie.
Anyhow, here’s what’s happening to me lately:
(at the airport two yeas ago, meeting friend who hadn’t seen my locs, which are very short at this time)
Strength: Hey, good to see you.
Friend: What’s happenin’, Whoopi?!!!!!
(Getting a manicure a month ago, chatting with the white woman next to me about a book she was reading)
Woman: You have your hair like Whoopi Goldberg.
Strength: (no response, just give her a glare that I hope is menacing)
Woman: Are you a big fan of Whoopi Goldberg’s? Did you get your hair done like that so you can look like her?
Strength: (still silent, as I mentally hum Negro spirituals that keep me from punching her in the throat)
Woman: Well? Do you even watch The View?
Strength: Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home........
(Going to dinner at a new restaurant with a friend who is black)
Friend: Wow! Your hair has really grown since I last saw you. I like it.
Strength: Thanks.
Friend: Yeah. You’ve got that whole Whoopi Goldberg thing going on.
(Going to dinner at a new restaurant with a friend who is black)
Friend: Wow! Your hair has really grown since I last saw you. I like it.
Strength: Thanks.
Friend: Yeah. You’ve got that whole Whoopi Goldberg thing going on.
Strength: Die, okay?? Just DIE!!!
So yes, apparently, Whoopi G is my new alter ego. I'm sure Whoopi is a lovely person in real life, but no, I don't think I look like her. I'd feel flattered, if folks were comparing me to, say, a sexy Whoopi G who looks like this, instead of the asexual way she typically looks. Now I just need the general public to understand that my name is not Whoopi!
So yes, apparently, Whoopi G is my new alter ego. I'm sure Whoopi is a lovely person in real life, but no, I don't think I look like her. I'd feel flattered, if folks were comparing me to, say, a sexy Whoopi G who looks like this, instead of the asexual way she typically looks. Now I just need the general public to understand that my name is not Whoopi!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Enough is Enough (Or: My Name Is Not Whoopi)
Blogger: Um, excuse me, but what are you doing here? I know you don’t think you can fall back into my good graces after being gone so long.
Strength: Sorry, B, baby, it’s just that some things have been happening, things out of my control.
Blogger: Psfh! We all have things that happen. That’s why I’m here! You’re supposed to use me to vent. Were you cheating on me?? Was it Typepad? Or Wordpress? I swear, I’ll kill them futhermuckas!
Strength: No, there’s nobody else but you.
Strength: Sorry, B, baby, it’s just that some things have been happening, things out of my control.
Blogger: Psfh! We all have things that happen. That’s why I’m here! You’re supposed to use me to vent. Were you cheating on me?? Was it Typepad? Or Wordpress? I swear, I’ll kill them futhermuckas!
Strength: No, there’s nobody else but you.
Blogger: For real? Well dang…. Where have you been?
Strength: It’s just so hard. I’ve been really busy. Must I remind you that I’m a graduate student? I have classes on Tuesdays and Thursday nights. Plus, I take guitar on Monday evenings. Not to mention my full time job and all the other work I have to do throughout the week.
Blogger: Blah, blah, blah. Don’t beat me in the head with bullshit.
Strength: I’m going to do better now. I promise.
Blogger: Hmph. I feel like I’ve heard it all before. It’s like you don’t even love me in 2008. This year, you celebrate our anniversary, your birthday and poof! You vanished. Into thin air!
Strength: I know, I know. But I’m back now. I’ll try not to go away that long ever again. I’m trying to get it together. Can you bear with me?
Blogger (sniffs): I thought you loved me.
Strength: I do. It’s just that life has a way of getting in the way of things. Will you give me another chance?
Blogger: Maybe. What do you have for me now?
Strength: Well, I wanted to discuss my feelings on being 31.
Blogger (sarcastically): Oh, how exciting. Next!
Strength: I can write about how I’ve been compared to Whoopi Goldberg on three separate occasions since I’ve gotten my hair loc’ed.
Blogger: Ohh!!! Go on.
Strength: And I can write about how each day, I’m forced to tame my inner Hood Chick from giving folks a beatdown.
Blogger: Well, now you’ve got me.
Strength: I live to make you happy.
Blogger: You better.
Strength: I love you, Bloggerlicious.
Blogger: Don’t call me that in public! You know how I feel about PDA.
Strength: It’s just so hard. I’ve been really busy. Must I remind you that I’m a graduate student? I have classes on Tuesdays and Thursday nights. Plus, I take guitar on Monday evenings. Not to mention my full time job and all the other work I have to do throughout the week.
Blogger: Blah, blah, blah. Don’t beat me in the head with bullshit.
Strength: I’m going to do better now. I promise.
Blogger: Hmph. I feel like I’ve heard it all before. It’s like you don’t even love me in 2008. This year, you celebrate our anniversary, your birthday and poof! You vanished. Into thin air!
Strength: I know, I know. But I’m back now. I’ll try not to go away that long ever again. I’m trying to get it together. Can you bear with me?
Blogger (sniffs): I thought you loved me.
Strength: I do. It’s just that life has a way of getting in the way of things. Will you give me another chance?
Blogger: Maybe. What do you have for me now?
Strength: Well, I wanted to discuss my feelings on being 31.
Blogger (sarcastically): Oh, how exciting. Next!
Strength: I can write about how I’ve been compared to Whoopi Goldberg on three separate occasions since I’ve gotten my hair loc’ed.
Blogger: Ohh!!! Go on.
Strength: And I can write about how each day, I’m forced to tame my inner Hood Chick from giving folks a beatdown.
Blogger: Well, now you’ve got me.
Strength: I live to make you happy.
Blogger: You better.
Strength: I love you, Bloggerlicious.
Blogger: Don’t call me that in public! You know how I feel about PDA.
Strength: Sorry.
Monday, March 24, 2008
It's My Birthday!
Today is my birthday. (Actually, it’s not, since I’m writing this post in the future). To celebrate, I’m off to the Midwest to visit Dee and her now husband, The Canadian. I also have all of next week off to relax, run errands and contemplate the meaning of life. Can’t wait!
One highlight of next week is that I’ll be getting a facial and a manicure. A friend bought me a gift certificate for these services for my bday last year, but I hadn’t gotten around to using them until now. Can’t wait to go to The Spa where I predict (keep in mind, I’m writing this in the future) that the facial (my first) will be an AMAZING experience, excluding the extraction. Everyone warned me about that part of the procedure. I don’t think it will be that bad, something I ‘imagine’ will be akin to having a hot knife stabbed into my face repeatedly until every single blackhead is wiped clean. Then I’ll get a manicure where the woman next to me will make a rude comment that makes me want to pummel her, wet nails and all. But this is just what I’m predicting …
I’ll plan to spend my week off relaxing, but that may not happen. I'll probably run alot of errands, get some exercise in and get the last few repairs on my car taken care of. But, that's just what I predict. Happy birthday to me!
One highlight of next week is that I’ll be getting a facial and a manicure. A friend bought me a gift certificate for these services for my bday last year, but I hadn’t gotten around to using them until now. Can’t wait to go to The Spa where I predict (keep in mind, I’m writing this in the future) that the facial (my first) will be an AMAZING experience, excluding the extraction. Everyone warned me about that part of the procedure. I don’t think it will be that bad, something I ‘imagine’ will be akin to having a hot knife stabbed into my face repeatedly until every single blackhead is wiped clean. Then I’ll get a manicure where the woman next to me will make a rude comment that makes me want to pummel her, wet nails and all. But this is just what I’m predicting …
I’ll plan to spend my week off relaxing, but that may not happen. I'll probably run alot of errands, get some exercise in and get the last few repairs on my car taken care of. But, that's just what I predict. Happy birthday to me!
Monday, March 10, 2008
Stank & Sexy
It annoys me when someone coins a phrase that I didn’t think of first. But since I love Anika Noni Rose, I can’t be too mad. She did an interview recently where she used a term that I’m going to take and use to my own devices. In talking about Terrence Howard in ‘The Best Man:’ “You know he had something dirty," she said. "He had the stank and the sexy at the same time.’ I couldn't have said it better myself.
Here’s my translation:
Sexynstank: (adj). A person bringing a certain virile swagger, while displaying other vile attributes. Can also be used as a noun, i.e. Terrence Howard bought the sexynstank or sexynstank Terrence Howard. Can also be abbreviated, like the S-n-S.
Here are a few folks that I think rock the S-n-S, in no particular order:
·50 Cent: Whenever I hear this man’s name, I get annoyed because it is tied into him hating on somebody. I’ll think he’s stupid and immature … until he takes his shirt off. My goodness gracious. It’s so hard to stay mad at a man with a bulletproof body. Whew! Sexynstank, indeed.
·Nicholas Cage: Dude just does it for me. Castor Troy in Face Off was the truth.
·Kiefer Sutherland: I’ve seen practically every movie of his and I never found him attractive. I thought he was a decent actor who got some so so parts, but I wasn’t a crazy fan. But then I started watching 24. It is amazing to watch his alter ego Jack Bauer fight the good fight for CTU. One minute, he is the devoted Dad who teaches his daughter how to shoot her first victim and the next minute, he tortures a suspect by shooting out the kneecaps of the man’s wife. He does all this with a smooth, velvety voice to match. Nice! (Too bad I stopped watching the show back when they killed off two of my favorite characters).
·Eddie Cibrian: He caught my attention when he played a bad boy on the soaps and then he played a womanizer on ‘Third Watch.’ His ex wife on Third Watch went nutso when he did her wrong and looking at those dimples, I understand.
·Tyrese: I thought he was corny until I saw ‘Baby Boy.’ Talk about the S-n-S effect. Once I saw that he had some thug in him, it upped him a notch in my book.
These are just a few that crossed my mind. I'd like to put Don Cheadle up there, but I can't think of any examples of him being stank. Hmmmm. Got anybody on your Sexynstank list?
Here’s my translation:
Sexynstank: (adj). A person bringing a certain virile swagger, while displaying other vile attributes. Can also be used as a noun, i.e. Terrence Howard bought the sexynstank or sexynstank Terrence Howard. Can also be abbreviated, like the S-n-S.
Here are a few folks that I think rock the S-n-S, in no particular order:
·50 Cent: Whenever I hear this man’s name, I get annoyed because it is tied into him hating on somebody. I’ll think he’s stupid and immature … until he takes his shirt off. My goodness gracious. It’s so hard to stay mad at a man with a bulletproof body. Whew! Sexynstank, indeed.
·Nicholas Cage: Dude just does it for me. Castor Troy in Face Off was the truth.
·Kiefer Sutherland: I’ve seen practically every movie of his and I never found him attractive. I thought he was a decent actor who got some so so parts, but I wasn’t a crazy fan. But then I started watching 24. It is amazing to watch his alter ego Jack Bauer fight the good fight for CTU. One minute, he is the devoted Dad who teaches his daughter how to shoot her first victim and the next minute, he tortures a suspect by shooting out the kneecaps of the man’s wife. He does all this with a smooth, velvety voice to match. Nice! (Too bad I stopped watching the show back when they killed off two of my favorite characters).
·Eddie Cibrian: He caught my attention when he played a bad boy on the soaps and then he played a womanizer on ‘Third Watch.’ His ex wife on Third Watch went nutso when he did her wrong and looking at those dimples, I understand.
·Tyrese: I thought he was corny until I saw ‘Baby Boy.’ Talk about the S-n-S effect. Once I saw that he had some thug in him, it upped him a notch in my book.
These are just a few that crossed my mind. I'd like to put Don Cheadle up there, but I can't think of any examples of him being stank. Hmmmm. Got anybody on your Sexynstank list?
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
What's Going On
This post will be scatterbrained, cuz that's how I'm feeling at the moment.
My guitar teacher has informed me that I have to perform in a concert this spring. No ifs, ands or buts about it. So I have to perfect this song in time for the May event. I like the song, which has no name, other than 'Study in A Minor.' It gives me a chance to do a little fingerpicking, which I love. But I'm nervous!!! I'll have to practice like a bandit so I don't make a fool of myself.
It is a Tuesday, which means I jumped through hoops to leave work early, battle traffic and get to my grad school class this evening. I go through all that for us to spend a whopping twenty minutes in class. Apparently, the professor sent an email earlier saying she wasn't feeling well and wasn't sure she could 'galvanize the energy' to make it to class today, so she left one of my classmates in charge. That's interesting, especially since I galvanize the energy to get to class twice a week, but whatever. Why couldn't she just cancel the blipping class??? Instead, we just sat around and talked about our projects briefly and rolled out. What a waste of time.
A close friend is running away and getting married. Not really running away, but going to the justice of the peace with no one but her and his parents and calling it a day. But I have the pleasure of keeping the phone by me at only times so I can be alerted once she they settle on a date. I've promised to go out there a few weeks beforehand and help her get ready. But the problem is this friend lives four hours away and my car is slowly turning into a hooptie. Hopefully, she won't get the urge for broom hopping until after I get all the necessary repairs to my car.
Got the new Erykah Badu and I'm LOVIN' 'Honey', 'Me' and 'That Hump.' Those are my favorites, but I like the whole CD. Of course, I still have Mary J Blige and Keyshia Cole on constant rotation. Can't wait for the new Mariah to drop.
Just finished "A Piece of Cake" by Cupcake Brown. This is a true story of an abused foster child turned prostitute turned Bloods member turned crackhead turned lawyer. Yeah, it's deep and VERY detailed. A good read, but heavy. It made me grateful for all the opportunites I've had, but it also made me sad for people who grow up in similar situations. It's a loooong book too. Nearly 500 pages. If you've got the time and you're willing to go through the roller coaster ride that is her life, check it out.
And that's it for me tonight. Thanks for tuning in!
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Rest, My Child
Lately, I've been having a serious love affair with sleep and I'm wondering if it's hereditary.
There was a time when I was a little girl, that all my Mom wanted to do was come home from work and sleep. It was summertime and we lived in this apartment complex that was still under construction. We barely had any neighbors and I was the only child living there at the time, so the summer months were unbearable. We had a death in the family recently, so we were both pretty miserable half the time. I'd sit around and watch TV all day; she'd come home and sleep. It got to the point where I would have a pillow waiting for her on the couch with a short note that said, 'Rest, my child.' Eventually, we broke out of it.
But all of a sudden, I think I've caught the family sickness. All I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. If I have a bad day at work, I rip my clothes off and hop into bed. If I'm feeling bored or restless, I rip my clothes off and go to bed. The other night, I was pissed because one of the networks stopped showing repeats of 'Half & Half'. You know what I did as revenge? Yeah -- I ripped my clothes off and went to bed. That'll teach 'em!
I didn't think there was anything unusual about this phase until I thought back to Mom's Sleeping Summer. Coincidentally, she was around the same age as I am now when she was enduring her slumber. Maybe this is just something the women in my family go through from time to time. I don't think I'm depresed. I'd be lying if I said there weren't things going on that get me down, but that's true of anyone. All of this sleep has had its benefits. I'm able to wake up earlier, which allows me to do some a.m. writing, and then I can actually get to work on time. So maybe this sleep overload isn't such a bad thing.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Inflammation of the Worst Kind
Recently, I spent nearly an entire day inside my apartment half nude with the blinds shut tight.
That may sound like the beginnings of a beautiful scenario, but believe me, it was not. See, I woke up with this severe pain in one of my breasts. It hurt so badly that I was forced to be topless. It literally felt like there was a fire inside of me. I can't remember the last time I cried from physical pain, but this time I did it.
So in order to calm myself down, I went on WebMd to check my symptoms. I answered a few questions there and the web doctor informed me that I needed to get to the hospital immediately. That posed a problem, since you know, I couldn't get all the way dressed. Plus, just the fact that I had a condition that meant I needed to go to the hospital so quickly really drove me crazy.
Luckily, I know of a hospital that has a 24 hour nurse hotline that is the human equivalent of Web Md. After waiting forever, I finally got through to a nurse/operator. I told her my problem and she didn't have any ideas as to what was causing it. She didn't think I needed to go to the hospital since I didn't have any other problems that apparently come along with this, i.e. nausea, fever, etc. But she did suggest I see my doctor as soon as I could. My mom came over and tried to nurse me back to health with an abundance of chicken noodle soup and magazines.
By the time I got to my doctor, the worst of the problem was over. Apparently, these things happen from time to time for no reason at all. She gave me some medicine and told me to let her know if the problem returns. It has not, but it has given me greater concern for my girls. I've got to do better about my self exams. I was never really a stickler for that because I didn't think I was at risk since cancer doesn't run in my family. But I do know now that it can hit anyone at anytime, anyplace. So it is now my job to be more dilligent.
That may sound like the beginnings of a beautiful scenario, but believe me, it was not. See, I woke up with this severe pain in one of my breasts. It hurt so badly that I was forced to be topless. It literally felt like there was a fire inside of me. I can't remember the last time I cried from physical pain, but this time I did it.
So in order to calm myself down, I went on WebMd to check my symptoms. I answered a few questions there and the web doctor informed me that I needed to get to the hospital immediately. That posed a problem, since you know, I couldn't get all the way dressed. Plus, just the fact that I had a condition that meant I needed to go to the hospital so quickly really drove me crazy.
Luckily, I know of a hospital that has a 24 hour nurse hotline that is the human equivalent of Web Md. After waiting forever, I finally got through to a nurse/operator. I told her my problem and she didn't have any ideas as to what was causing it. She didn't think I needed to go to the hospital since I didn't have any other problems that apparently come along with this, i.e. nausea, fever, etc. But she did suggest I see my doctor as soon as I could. My mom came over and tried to nurse me back to health with an abundance of chicken noodle soup and magazines.
By the time I got to my doctor, the worst of the problem was over. Apparently, these things happen from time to time for no reason at all. She gave me some medicine and told me to let her know if the problem returns. It has not, but it has given me greater concern for my girls. I've got to do better about my self exams. I was never really a stickler for that because I didn't think I was at risk since cancer doesn't run in my family. But I do know now that it can hit anyone at anytime, anyplace. So it is now my job to be more dilligent.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
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.
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.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
The Terrible Twos
Funny, I don't feel two years old. But I guess I am, because sometime in 2006 I started this here blog. In some ways it seems like a long time ago and in other ways, it feels just like yesterday.
This past year, I shared some of my embarrassing moments, struggles, obsessions, and fears for the youth. I also put out an APB on Mighty Max and made new friends.
I say all this to tell you all (whoever you are) thanks for tuning in to the Strength/Courage /Wisdom program. Keep checking in here and hopefully I'll be able to bring a smile to your face. Or at least make you want to come back!
Thanks again! Now I can't wait for my third blogday!
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
School Daze
I'm going to try really hard not to get too stressed out this semester. However, that's going to be difficult, since I'm taking two challenging evening classes. Why would I do such an idiotic thing? Believe me, it was not by design.
I registered for two classes that are held on Tuesday and Thursdays -- both dealing with different aspects of fiction writing. Two different professors were teaching them. I'll call them Brilliant Professor and Slacker Professor for obvious reasons. I planned to have my Thursday night class -- the one with Brilliant Professor -- as the course I'd devote all my blood sweat and tears into. I would treat my Tuesday class with Slacker Professor as my time to catch up with my Thursday night reading as SP rambled on about his family, his career, life, etc etc etc.
On my first Thursday night, Brilliant Professor gave us the syllabus, which spelled out how much work the course was going to require over the next few months. I didn't mind, because I'm really impressed with Brilliant Professor. The first time I met her, I thought she was attitudinal, but I was wrong. She's a sweet woman who really knows what she's doing when it comes to writing and reading. I know I can learn alot from her. I hurried to get all of my books and spent that night doing my first assignment so the procrastination bug wouldn't hit me.
By the time Tuesday night rolled around, I was in lunch mode. The last time I had Slacker Professor I learned absolutely nothing. He never gave us a syllabus and seemed like he really didn't know what to do with the class. It was an easy A. It was just the kind of class I needed to have, especially when I had to deal with Brilliant Professor later in the week.
However, there's been a change. Slacker Professor is on medical leave and will not be teaching at all this semester! Any idea who is taking over his teaching duties??? Just guess. Yep, it's Brilliant Professor. My face fell when she distributed the massive syllabus and book list. Aye caramba! That's just what I get for trying to take the easy way out. Sigh. Pray for me this semester. Please!!!
(Photo from http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/2/22/SchoolDazeMP.jpg/200px-SchoolDazeMP.jpg)
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
You Don't Know My Name .... And I'm Trying to Keep It That Way
I am an anonymous blogger. That means I keep my name, my location and my profession top secret. Unless you are one of the few (and I do mean few) friends that I gave this url, you know very little about me. And I'd like to keep it that way.
No offense, but cyberspace is a scary place. I know that with a click of a few buttons, a few determined souls would learn alot of things that I'd like to keep hidden. Not that I have a secret life, just one that's private.
I offer this disclaimer because I encountered a few readers recently. How they made the connection is not important, but it was enough to make me wonder if I need to make any additional precautions to keep others from finding out. Luckily, these people I met are very kind and promised to keep my secret. Maybe I'm taking this thing too seriously, but I can't help it. I'd love meeting the people who read this blog. But I worry about being face to face with someone who, in the back of his or her mind, thinks, "Oh my goodness! She's the one who wrote about ...... !!!" Freaky.
No offense, but cyberspace is a scary place. I know that with a click of a few buttons, a few determined souls would learn alot of things that I'd like to keep hidden. Not that I have a secret life, just one that's private.
I offer this disclaimer because I encountered a few readers recently. How they made the connection is not important, but it was enough to make me wonder if I need to make any additional precautions to keep others from finding out. Luckily, these people I met are very kind and promised to keep my secret. Maybe I'm taking this thing too seriously, but I can't help it. I'd love meeting the people who read this blog. But I worry about being face to face with someone who, in the back of his or her mind, thinks, "Oh my goodness! She's the one who wrote about ...... !!!" Freaky.
Nevertheless, I will continue my blogging duties. I hope that I never get so weirded out that I have to go to extremes and make this site private. But that would be worse case scenario. Who knows -- I may change my mind and go public in the future. *Shrug* Either way, please respect my choice to be private. Thanks.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Deep Thoughts: Some Morbid, Some Not (With Forgiveness to Camille, which is where I stole this idea)
I wonder how in the world I'm going to survive this semester .... I'm annoyed that my iPod is ailing. Now I can't listen to my theme songs on my way to work .... I need HBO to run a marathon of the last few episodes of The Wire with a quickness so I can catch up .... I really wish my neighbors would stop blasting Tracie Spencer's "Tender Kisses" repeatedly .... I'm going to the Caribbean this summer and thankfully not on a boat .... A friend burned the Avenue Q soundtrack for me recently and I loved this song: "The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them." Hah! How true .... The soaps are killing me with the return of Jesse & Angie on AMC and Sarah Brown on GH. Nevertheless, I will be watching ... I'm convinced that my local Target has healing powers. Whenever I go shopping there, I immediately feel better.... Sometimes I wonder what will happen to this blog if I die suddenly .... How would people know I was dead? .... Would the blog just dissolve into blog heaven after so many months /years of not being updated? .... I really loved "The Great Debaters." One of the best parts was when dude asked Denzel's character to talk about his father. Oh, Denzel. He is the truth .... I have a taste for the following three things: a milkshake, a pizza and McDonald's French fries. Not necessarily in that order and not necessarily at the same time .... Everyday I learn something new about my handy little flip phone. Just the other day, I learned how to use the speaker phone. Hooray! .... I'm really loving the latest Mary J. Blige. So much so that I play it every night. And the album before that is in my car, on constant repeat...... I am anxiously awaiting the Erykah Badu release in Feb. .... I was waiting for Amerie's new cd to drop, but she's pushed her album back so far that methinks it's probably not that hot.....Mmmm, now I have a taste for some Popeye's fried chicken .... Oh, and cajun rice ..... And sushi ....Ohhhhh!!! ....... I guess I should stop writing before these cravings get the best of me.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The Last Hello
Let me say first that I'm a bit illiterate when it comes to technology. Maybe illiterate isn't the right word -- I'm more reluctant to use technological advances when I can do things the old fashioned way. One year, I was given a palm pilot as a gift, but I kept it in the box, opting to use my trusty old planner. I use a laptop that I'm pretty sure is outdated, but I know nothing about the programs that are on the system. I mean, I know how to use them, but I'm not one who can get into a casual conversation about Windows XP and Vista.
I'm also one of the last people on earth to answer a cell phone by saying 'hello.' Yes, I know who is calling, but I still like to go back to common courtesy and give folks a warm welcome.
Anyway, I write all this to announce that I finally got a new cell phone. If you don't know me, this may not seem like a big feat, but trust me, it is. See, I've been using cell phones since 2000 and the one I just replaced was only my second phone. Yeah, I tend to get alot of mileage out of them.
I knew I'd been given a rebate for a new phone from Sprint a long time ago, but I didn't do anything with it. I don't like going into Sprint stores with all those sales associates so eager to help me, so eager to get me on another plan. I just wish I could just go to a drive thru, pick up a new phone and be done with it. But that's impossible.
Anyway, I went to get a new phone a few months ago, but couldn't do it. Basically, the Sprint folks are redoing their account system and that calls them to lock everyone out of the account system. Of course, they were doing my account at that time, so the saleswoman couldn't access my info to do an upgrade.
This was fine with me, because my relic of a phone doesn't bother me. It bothers everyone else, but not me. This account process was to take two weeks to do, but I let a few months go by until I tried to do anything about it. But things turned into crisis mode the other day when I got a text message that caused my phone to screech so loudly that I thought it was my fire alarm going off.
I returned to the Sprint store and get the same saleswoman, only to get the same story about them not being able to access my account. Something that was supposed to take two weeks wound up taking two months! I called the Sprint people and ordered my phone online. Because of the screw up, they tossed in an extra rebate that allowed me to get an even better phone.
So now I finally have a flip phone. It shoots and sends pictures and could probably manage my bank account if I allowed it. Of course, things in my life aren't that easy. I go to the store so they can do a data transfer from old phone to new phone. No can do. Unfortunately, they don't have a system that's compatible with both my phones. They have one that can hook up to my old phone, but not my new one; and one that goes with my new phone, but not the old one. So I'm stuck reentering all of my old numbers in my new phone.
Bummer.
But at least I have a new phone! Who knows, I may get another upgrade in 2010.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Uncle L
Most mornings, I start my day the same way. I have a cup of green tea and flip to the Entertainment section of the newspaper. I read off the celebrity birthdays to my coworker and she reads me my horoscope.
But this morning, my day was thrown into a tizzy after reading one particular entry. Under "Today's Birthdays", it said: LL Cool J, 40. LL!!!!! 40???? FORTY???????
See, LL was my man from day one. I think his Bigger And Deffer album was the first one I bought. I listened to "I'm Bad" repeatedly and when he got to the part where he said -- "Don't eat Oreo's , eat Cool J Cookies" -- I begged Mom to buy me these new cookies next time she went grocery shopping. I credit LL for giving me my fetish for dimples. Whenever he smiled, I became intrigued with those holes in the side of his face and knew I had to have them.
I'm not so much a fan of his newer music as I am for his ..... well, other assets. But 40??? I mean, I'm sure that's his real age -- heck, he might even be older than that -- but dang. That man is not human. He is a work of art.
Happy birthday, Big Ellie. You're something like a phenomenon.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
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!
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!
Friday, January 04, 2008
Rumble in the Jungle
Warning: The following post contains a detailed discussion about bodily functions. If you are eating, or if you are easily offended, do not read anymore. You have been warned.
I’m the type of person who can only pee in a public restroom. Sure I could do more – and I’ve been forced to do more – but I’d rather not. I don’t like for people to hear and smell what I’ve got going on in stall #2 (hah! Pun intended), but I will do it when absolutely necessary.
I say all this to say that recently my bodily functions took a turn. See, I had been hit with the normal amount of #1, but there was minimal supply in the other area. Basically, I had a problem that started with a big ol’ C and rhymes with ‘complicated.’ It wasn’t fun.
The worst part of my situation was that it seemed to get pretty bad during the work hours. I’d be filled with this overwhelming urge to go. But once I got into the stall, nothing happened. I’d take my mind to a safe quiet space and try to let it happen naturally, but still …nothing. It didn’t help that the Bathroom Chick (so named for her ability to be in the bathroom for several hours a day) was in the stall next to me talking on her cell phone about a very tasty egg sandwich she had the other day. (Using a cell phone in a bathroom stall is one of my biggest pet peeves. Yuck). I got frustrated, so I left.
Throughout the week I tried a variety of ways to improve my condition. (Note: it’s never fun to be looking at WebMD’s cures for constipation when your boss decides to hover over your shoulder). I felt full all the time and because of this, I barely had an appetite. Somehow, I got the genius idea that ginger ale would cure me. BIG MISTAKE. After one 12 ounce can of Schweppes, my stomach felt hard as a rock. Seriously. You could have punched me and hurt your hand. And yet the condition continued. I know what you’re thinking. I could’ve just gone to the store and bought cure. But that would’ve been too like right. And sometimes, I like to be complicated. But not consti…. Well, you know.
My situation lasted for a few days until it cured itself all on its own. Once again, I was at work. I raced to the bathroom, only to see Bathroom Girl there once again, on her cell phone and brushing her hair. I went into my stall and tried to wait for her to leave. I mean, a sista needs concentration! Man, she wouldn’t go away. She brushed, combed and practically curled her hair before I decided to put an end to it. Mentally, I went to my safe place and voila!!! Problem solved. I couldn’t help but chuckle when I heard Bathroom Chick whisper into her phone: “I’ve got to get out of here!” Fun times. Well, they are now that I’m cured. I haven’t seen ol’ BC in the bathroom since then.
I’m the type of person who can only pee in a public restroom. Sure I could do more – and I’ve been forced to do more – but I’d rather not. I don’t like for people to hear and smell what I’ve got going on in stall #2 (hah! Pun intended), but I will do it when absolutely necessary.
I say all this to say that recently my bodily functions took a turn. See, I had been hit with the normal amount of #1, but there was minimal supply in the other area. Basically, I had a problem that started with a big ol’ C and rhymes with ‘complicated.’ It wasn’t fun.
The worst part of my situation was that it seemed to get pretty bad during the work hours. I’d be filled with this overwhelming urge to go. But once I got into the stall, nothing happened. I’d take my mind to a safe quiet space and try to let it happen naturally, but still …nothing. It didn’t help that the Bathroom Chick (so named for her ability to be in the bathroom for several hours a day) was in the stall next to me talking on her cell phone about a very tasty egg sandwich she had the other day. (Using a cell phone in a bathroom stall is one of my biggest pet peeves. Yuck). I got frustrated, so I left.
Throughout the week I tried a variety of ways to improve my condition. (Note: it’s never fun to be looking at WebMD’s cures for constipation when your boss decides to hover over your shoulder). I felt full all the time and because of this, I barely had an appetite. Somehow, I got the genius idea that ginger ale would cure me. BIG MISTAKE. After one 12 ounce can of Schweppes, my stomach felt hard as a rock. Seriously. You could have punched me and hurt your hand. And yet the condition continued. I know what you’re thinking. I could’ve just gone to the store and bought cure. But that would’ve been too like right. And sometimes, I like to be complicated. But not consti…. Well, you know.
My situation lasted for a few days until it cured itself all on its own. Once again, I was at work. I raced to the bathroom, only to see Bathroom Girl there once again, on her cell phone and brushing her hair. I went into my stall and tried to wait for her to leave. I mean, a sista needs concentration! Man, she wouldn’t go away. She brushed, combed and practically curled her hair before I decided to put an end to it. Mentally, I went to my safe place and voila!!! Problem solved. I couldn’t help but chuckle when I heard Bathroom Chick whisper into her phone: “I’ve got to get out of here!” Fun times. Well, they are now that I’m cured. I haven’t seen ol’ BC in the bathroom since then.
Monday, December 31, 2007
And on to 2008....
It's about time to in a new year and I'm happy about that. Not that 2007 has been bad year. It wasn't the greatest, but it definitely wasn't the most. Like most folks, I've spent the last 365 days going through my share of ups and downs. But I'm looking forward to ushering in 2008 and all the challenges that lie ahead, good and bad.
I'm not really big on new year's resolutions, but I do have a few goals that I want to accomplish in the big 08. I'm going to try to be better organized and I'm also going to try to have a better handle on my money. I'm not a big spender by any means, but I'm looking at ways to invest my money and get a better return on it. Recently, I opened a savings account with EmigrantDirect. Similar to ING, these banks give a higher annual percentage yield than banks or credit unions. I also need to figure out what I'm doing with Sharebuilder. My account there allows me to invest in stocks and bonds, but I put it on hold a while back, mainly because I don't know what the heck I'm doing when it comes to the stock market. But I'll figure it out. (However, I am always open for advice).
At the end of last year, I did a post called Ordinary People, where I did my roundup of folks who may not have got the credit that they deserved last year. I can't think of anyone who fits that category this year, so I'll flip it a bit. Now that I have cable again, I'm finding a number of shows that I hadn't heard of back when I had nothing but four snowy channels. So instead of listing underrated people, I'm going to list the most underrated shows. (Or shows that I like and I think you should too!) Here goes:
Journeyman: At first, I didn't want to watch this show because it seemed like such a rip off of Quantum Leap. But because it came on after Heroes, I found myself watching it every week and finding it to be even better than the Sam Beckett show. There are twists and turns at the end of every episode as this reporter is pulled through time along with his girlfriend, who is being pulled into the future. Yeah, it seems confusing, but trust me, it all makes sense when you watch it. I had heard that they were going to cancel it, but I'm not so sure that's the case anymore. I'm hoping for the best.
The Salt N Pepa Show: Salt N Pepa's here and we're in effect/1 2 3 Push it, Babe! Sorry, I couldn't resist. I guess you can tell that I was an S-N-P fan back in the day. It's good to be able to tune in occasionally and see what they're up to. The show isn't without it's faults -- no Spinderella, sometimes they're obviously acting, can Salt really be that prudish and Pepa that over the top? Regardless, every time that I see that this show is on, I stop in my tracks.
Prison Break: I'm late to discovering this show, but I'm glad I did. Back when I was sick, a friend loaned me the first season on DVD and I was hooked. It was a serious adrenalin rush, kinda like 24 was back when it first got started. I'm glad I watched it on DVD, though. I don't know how I could take those constant changes in my blood pressure week to week.
The Game: Seriously, who can watch this show and not develop a crush on Derwin? This show just makes me laugh at every turn. Everything they do is pure comedy -- from the way they handle seemingly serious topics, like groupies, gold diggers and interracial dating. Good stuff.
Battlestar Galactica: I am sad that I have to wait until fracking March for them to start airing the final season of one of my favorite shows. But whatever, I'll hang in there. I could say that it is the best show on television, but non fans wouldn't believe me. Instead, I'll just sit back and count the days till I can see Starbuck and crew again. So say we all.
Honorable mention: Recently, I was treated to a marathon of Jon & Kate Plus 8, a reality show based on this couple that has eight kids, thanks to fertility drugs. They already had a set of twin girls when they decided to try for another baby, but that resulted in sextuplets. Yikes! The twins are six and the younger kids are three. The kids are sooo cute -- my favorite is Collin , the bully of the group. However, this show is a walking safe sex commercial. I think I'd have a nervous breakdown if I took eight screaming kids to an amusement park. I cringe at the thought! (And wait till you see what her stomach looks like after the births. Not pretty.)
As you can see by now, my list has gone out the window. Ah well. Happy 2008 everybody!
(Photo from http://www.stardustparkhill.com/maryland_web_designers_new_years_eve.jpg)
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Meatballs. Sneezes. Toes.
There is nothing worse than being sick on a holiday. Believe me, I know. The one other time I can remember being sick on a holiday was when I was a young girl and it was Thanksgiving. I think I had the mumps or measles or something that starts with an M. Anyway, I was sitting around feeling so miserable as I watched my Grandma stuff the turkey and everyone around me having fun as I was curled up in my blankets. Young Strength was not a happy camper.
However, this year I had the pleasure of being sick once again. This time it wasn’t anything majorly serious, just a cold. But a cold that came with a fever, chills, sweats and severe loss of appetite. It pissed me off to the high heavens. But the fact that I have an idea where I contracted this cold makes it even worse.
See, we had an office party last week. This was not the traditional party my job normally throws – instead of going to restaurant and eating and drinking to our heart’s content, the cheap powers that be decided to have an alcohol-free office party. My colleagues and I weren’t too happy about it, but we endured.
There was a ton of food there and I was particularly interested in the crockpot of meatballs. I suspected that my coworker, Jane, a master chef, fixed the meatballs since I saw her lugging in a similar crockpot earlier in the day. I fixed myself a meatball sandwich and devoured it until my heart’s content. Good times. It wasn’t until much later did I learn that Daisy, my sniffling, sneezing, hygienically challenged coworker, cooked the meatballs. Already, I could just picture her blowing her nose over the crockpot, filling it with all of her germs. But it was too late – I already ate her meal.
It took three days for my cold -- The Meatball Virus -- to fully incapacitate me. I blew my nose so many times that my nostrils turned red. My eyes watered so much, people thought I was touched by the Holy Ghost. My voice got so deep and raspy that I sounded a bit like Tone Loc must sound first thing in the morning. I infected others, too. People who were brave enough to come near me came down with fevers, sore throats and laryngitis. My illness is the gift that just keeps on giving.
I was supposed to work on Christmas Eve, but because of my condition, I was more than happy to call out sick. I spent the entire day in bed, wishing I could taste my food. The only thing that kept me sane was watching the first season of ‘Prison Break’ on dvd. The main guy, Wentworth Miller, really didn’t do anything for me until I started watching the show. They have this one episode where they cut off two of my boys’ toes. The doctor stitches him up and asks him if he is okay and he says, “toes are overrated.” That is the kind of man I need in my life. What dedication! Now I just have to move on to season 2 and see what other surprises he has for me.
Anyway, I hope everyone had a happy holiday! I’m still recovering, but I’m back at work and I hope to be able to breathe through my nose sometime soon. Hooray!
However, this year I had the pleasure of being sick once again. This time it wasn’t anything majorly serious, just a cold. But a cold that came with a fever, chills, sweats and severe loss of appetite. It pissed me off to the high heavens. But the fact that I have an idea where I contracted this cold makes it even worse.
See, we had an office party last week. This was not the traditional party my job normally throws – instead of going to restaurant and eating and drinking to our heart’s content, the cheap powers that be decided to have an alcohol-free office party. My colleagues and I weren’t too happy about it, but we endured.
There was a ton of food there and I was particularly interested in the crockpot of meatballs. I suspected that my coworker, Jane, a master chef, fixed the meatballs since I saw her lugging in a similar crockpot earlier in the day. I fixed myself a meatball sandwich and devoured it until my heart’s content. Good times. It wasn’t until much later did I learn that Daisy, my sniffling, sneezing, hygienically challenged coworker, cooked the meatballs. Already, I could just picture her blowing her nose over the crockpot, filling it with all of her germs. But it was too late – I already ate her meal.
It took three days for my cold -- The Meatball Virus -- to fully incapacitate me. I blew my nose so many times that my nostrils turned red. My eyes watered so much, people thought I was touched by the Holy Ghost. My voice got so deep and raspy that I sounded a bit like Tone Loc must sound first thing in the morning. I infected others, too. People who were brave enough to come near me came down with fevers, sore throats and laryngitis. My illness is the gift that just keeps on giving.
I was supposed to work on Christmas Eve, but because of my condition, I was more than happy to call out sick. I spent the entire day in bed, wishing I could taste my food. The only thing that kept me sane was watching the first season of ‘Prison Break’ on dvd. The main guy, Wentworth Miller, really didn’t do anything for me until I started watching the show. They have this one episode where they cut off two of my boys’ toes. The doctor stitches him up and asks him if he is okay and he says, “toes are overrated.” That is the kind of man I need in my life. What dedication! Now I just have to move on to season 2 and see what other surprises he has for me.
Anyway, I hope everyone had a happy holiday! I’m still recovering, but I’m back at work and I hope to be able to breathe through my nose sometime soon. Hooray!
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Soap
In case anyone was wondering, Ultra Palmolive Oxy Plus dishwashing liquid certainly does the job. However, it does not taste good.
Recently, I learned this the hard way. I packed some yummy chicken noodle soup to eat with my lunch at work. It was so good, I ate it to the last drop. When I was finished, I dumped some dishwashing liquid in there, so I could take it to the sink and wash it. You can imagine where this goes.
I must've gotten sidetracked at work, because a few minutes later, I looked at my bowl and got excited about what looked like tiny droplets of leftover soup. I dipped my spoon in and gobbled it up. All I can say is, thank God I didn't swallow. I can't even describe what lingered on my tongue as I raced to the ladies' room to rinse it out. It tasted like a combination of Pine Sol mixed with coal mixed with Sour Patch Kids candy mixed with Nyquil. It's safe to say that I won't be returning for seconds.
My own dishwashing taste test led me to a memory, this one going back to high school. I had this media arts class and we met in the library. I think the goal of the class was to produce and edit video, but most of the time, all we did was sit back and wait for an easy A. This was a small class, with a combo of football players, cheerleaders, druggies, geeks, student gov folks and losers. I was none of the above. I guess I probably fell into the loser category back then, but I didn't know it.
Anywho, there was this kid in my class named Aaron. He was in special ed classes and the teachers said he was mentally slow. Of course, he was constantly teased about that. The worse part was that he didn't seem to know he was being teased. He thought he was friends with these two football players in our class -- guys that pushed him in the hallways and constantly played tricks on him.
Once, because class was so dull, Aaron fell asleep. With his mouth open. One of the football players found a bottle of dishwashing liquid and poured some into his mouth. He woke up with this shocked look on his face because there was something terrible in his mouth and he didn't know why. Everyone laughed -- including me. I felt bad for him, but I didn't think there was anything I could do so I joined in the crowd.
Aaron told the teacher and she investigated. Come to find out, the genius pranksters poured the dishwashing liquid in his mouth all in front of a videocamera that recorded their every move. They were suspended, the local paper and TV news stations did stories about it. I think Aaron was pulled out of that class or something, but I can't remember.
Well, now I've become a form of Aaron all on my own. Except for me, no one saw me feed myself the dishwashing liquid, there was no camera in sight and no laughter, other than my own, a few days later. I guess the one thing I learned from all this is that I should watch where I toss my laughter. Because in the end, we all eat the soap.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Christmas in Hollis
I realized the other day that the holidays are not coming, but they are here.
This may not be news to most people, who have already sent out their holiday cards, done their shopping and decorated the house. But it is news to me. See, I’m that person who refuses to believe that the holidays are here until one of two things happen. I hear Run DMC’s “Christmas in Hollis” on the radio or the local networks start playing “Shaka Zulu.” Well, imagine my surprise when I turned on the radio the other day and heard Rev. Run rapping about chicken and collard greens. (Side note: One day during the holidays, I’m going to go up to New York’s Hollis Avenue and eat chicken and collard greens, just to make things interesting. Anybody with me?).
Most people consider films like “It’s A Wonderful Life,” “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” and “A Christmas Story” as true holiday flicks. But growing up, my holiday movie was “Shaka Zulu.” (And I’m talking about the original, not the remake with Grace Jones) Every December, the local networks would air the gazillion part miniseries detailing the life of the Zulu chief. I watched every year, even though I didn’t understand what was happening and the Witch Doctor gave me severe nightmares. It wasn’t until much later that I understood everything that was going on in this movie, from Shaka’s rise to power to his subsequent downfall. Unfortunately, the networks stopped airing it years ago. I’m tempted to get it on DVD, just to reminisce about old times. RIP to Henry Cele, who gave an amazing performance as Shaka.
Anyway, I decided to bust out with the holiday decorations the other night. This is a big deal for me, since I haven’t decorated in years. Back in the day, I used to distribute Christmas cards, trim my little fake Charlie Brown Christmas tree and have a miniature tree at my desk at work. But that was before I added my cat, Simba, into my life. He was so hyper that I was reluctant to put up anything that he might destroy. He has mellowed out in his old age, so I figured I’d bring the Christmas spirit into my home.
The decorations took me all of five minutes. Do you know what they consist of? My black Santa Claus, that gyrates his hips to “Jingle Bell Rock,” and an 18-inch faux tree that sits near my coffee table. Awwww yeah.
This may not be news to most people, who have already sent out their holiday cards, done their shopping and decorated the house. But it is news to me. See, I’m that person who refuses to believe that the holidays are here until one of two things happen. I hear Run DMC’s “Christmas in Hollis” on the radio or the local networks start playing “Shaka Zulu.” Well, imagine my surprise when I turned on the radio the other day and heard Rev. Run rapping about chicken and collard greens. (Side note: One day during the holidays, I’m going to go up to New York’s Hollis Avenue and eat chicken and collard greens, just to make things interesting. Anybody with me?).
Most people consider films like “It’s A Wonderful Life,” “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” and “A Christmas Story” as true holiday flicks. But growing up, my holiday movie was “Shaka Zulu.” (And I’m talking about the original, not the remake with Grace Jones) Every December, the local networks would air the gazillion part miniseries detailing the life of the Zulu chief. I watched every year, even though I didn’t understand what was happening and the Witch Doctor gave me severe nightmares. It wasn’t until much later that I understood everything that was going on in this movie, from Shaka’s rise to power to his subsequent downfall. Unfortunately, the networks stopped airing it years ago. I’m tempted to get it on DVD, just to reminisce about old times. RIP to Henry Cele, who gave an amazing performance as Shaka.
Anyway, I decided to bust out with the holiday decorations the other night. This is a big deal for me, since I haven’t decorated in years. Back in the day, I used to distribute Christmas cards, trim my little fake Charlie Brown Christmas tree and have a miniature tree at my desk at work. But that was before I added my cat, Simba, into my life. He was so hyper that I was reluctant to put up anything that he might destroy. He has mellowed out in his old age, so I figured I’d bring the Christmas spirit into my home.
The decorations took me all of five minutes. Do you know what they consist of? My black Santa Claus, that gyrates his hips to “Jingle Bell Rock,” and an 18-inch faux tree that sits near my coffee table. Awwww yeah.
I guess phase 2 of ringing in the holidays would be to buy some gifts and Christmas cards. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll wait to do all that when they start airing “Shaka Zulu” again. Hah!
Merry Christmahanukwanzakah everybody!
Merry Christmahanukwanzakah everybody!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Where I’ve Been, Where I’m Going
Yes, I’ve been gone for quite a while and I apologize. This little thing called school reared its ugly head on me at the end of the semester and it required all of my attention. I’m proud to say that classes ended last night, so I am putting my brain on a vacation until February 2008. Until then, I will only read chick lit and Cosmo and I will watch as much trash tv as possible. Oh yes. I can’t wait.
But school isn’t the only reason I’ve been absent from the blogosphere. Another thing called laziness also set in, but I think I've overcome it. Anyway, here's a brief rundown as to what's been going on with me lately:
-I've decided that I need a part-time job. I make decent money, but I live in an expensive area and if I want to become a homeowner, I need some extra dough. However, there is nothing as humbling as going to my favorite drugstore and asking the 16-year-old cashier for a job application.
-In light of the writers strike, I've decided to go on a little strike of my own -- from men. Because I've done this before, I know that this is the time when the dudes want to crawl out of the woodwork and jump into my lives. These days, the most interesting are The Ex, who is once again showing his stalkerish ass and a married friend of a friend, who is now separated from his crazy wife, and is asking around about my relationship status and how he can get in touch with me. Obviously, these fools didn't read my picket sign -- "NEVER TRUST ANYONE WITH AN XY CHROMOSOME." But I'm always open to negotiations ...
-Once again, I procrastinated on doing my Christmas shopping. I started just the other day, but now I can only think of what my grand gift to myself will be this year. I'm thinking either new iPod, new guitar or laptop. I'm leaning toward the iPod, but I would literally sell my soul for a red guitar.
-I really want to see 'Sweeney Todd.' Seriously, I love Johnny Depp. I always forget that I love him, and then he'll come out with a movie, and I'll remember that I love him all over again. Now there's a man that would make me drop my picket sign.
-I'm really hurt that the networks are canceling 'Journeyman.' That just hurts. And I need Battlestar back in my life. Immediately.
Ah well. That's about it. Thanks to all of you who missed me on the blogosphere and inquired as to where I've been. I'm back, baby!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Turkey Time ... Almost
I’m sitting at work waiting for quitting time. Tonight, I’ll be hanging out with some friends before heading over to my parents’ for the eve of Thanksgiving. Then we’ll probably cook, play Scrabble and dabble in my stepfather’s HUGE bootleg collection. (don’t tell, ya’ll!)
My Mom is always the one that’s truly in the holiday spirit. It’ll be just the three of us celebrating, so she may make us go around the table and list something that makes us thankful. Right now, the only things that cross my mind are selfish and silly things that I’d rather mention here than to my family. So here goes.
I am thankful for ...
-The new coat I bought from Target last night. It’s very rare for me to go into a store intending to buy something and actually finding something that I like. Good stuff!
-Catching the old school song of the day while running out for lunch today. The dj played “Before I Let You Go” by Blackstreet. That truly took me back. I remember that video because Omar Epps (a member of my harem) was in the vid, along with Shari Headley (Coming to America), who was my favorite soap opera actress at the time.
-The 70 degree weather. It means that I have no need for this new coat today and I’m suffering in my non air conditioned car, but still … it feels good.
-That I get to watch “Razor” on Saturday with a fellow BSG geek. We may also fill up the day watching “Hostel II” and “Hot Fuzz”
-The white girl who shares my cubicle wall. She’s a preppy, private school, New England-bred gal. Her mom’s birthday is on Thanksgiving and she told me that she’s buying her Kanye West’s cd because “she just loves Kanyeezie.” My jaw fell open.
-Alice Smith. "For Lovers, Dreamers & Me" is on constant repeat.
My Mom is always the one that’s truly in the holiday spirit. It’ll be just the three of us celebrating, so she may make us go around the table and list something that makes us thankful. Right now, the only things that cross my mind are selfish and silly things that I’d rather mention here than to my family. So here goes.
I am thankful for ...
-The new coat I bought from Target last night. It’s very rare for me to go into a store intending to buy something and actually finding something that I like. Good stuff!
-Catching the old school song of the day while running out for lunch today. The dj played “Before I Let You Go” by Blackstreet. That truly took me back. I remember that video because Omar Epps (a member of my harem) was in the vid, along with Shari Headley (Coming to America), who was my favorite soap opera actress at the time.
-The 70 degree weather. It means that I have no need for this new coat today and I’m suffering in my non air conditioned car, but still … it feels good.
-That I get to watch “Razor” on Saturday with a fellow BSG geek. We may also fill up the day watching “Hostel II” and “Hot Fuzz”
-The white girl who shares my cubicle wall. She’s a preppy, private school, New England-bred gal. Her mom’s birthday is on Thanksgiving and she told me that she’s buying her Kanye West’s cd because “she just loves Kanyeezie.” My jaw fell open.
-Alice Smith. "For Lovers, Dreamers & Me" is on constant repeat.
-Having cable. Yes, I have let the corporate predators into my home once again by linking into their network. Now, between FX, Bravo, BET, Vh1 and Soapnet, I can never leave the house. *Sigh*
Ah well, that's all I can think of at the moment. Happy Thanksgiving everyone! No matter what anyone says, eat as much as you want. No one likes a dieting dinner guest. =)
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
If the children are the future, then the future is fcuked
No, that is not a typo. It's just an example of how this next generation of children is headed toward illiteracy at a rapid rate. I confess that there are certain things I'm a tad bit anal about -- grammar and proper spelling are only two of them. Maybe it's the writer in me, but I've been known to lecture people about using affect and effect improperly and the misuse of a semicolon really ticks me off. I mean, respect the language, folks. Respect it!
Awhile back, two of my younger cousins requested to be my friends on Myspace. My page is private to anyone who is not a friend, so I immediately cleaned it up so that they could view it. That caused me to remove a couple of folks from my top friends' list, like my friend with the cartoon of a lion coming out of a woman's vagina and my other friend who each week is either a Gangsta Bitch, The Main Bitch, or The Bossy Bitch.
Anyway, I added my two cousins -- both boys, one is a freshman in high school, the other is in sixth grade, or middle school. It started out innocent enough, Freshman Cousin constantly sent bulletins about how much he loved his girlfriend and other chain letters. Things were fine, until he sent one with the subject, "I like to fcuk." (I'm not sure if I was more pissed at the topic or the incorrect spelling) It was one of those forwards where your birthday month says something about your personality. Obviously, I was not too happy to get this from my 14-year-old bird-chested cousin, so I emailed him and told him so. This is what I got back:
----------------- Original Message -----------------
From Strength
Date: Nov 1, 2007 7:43 PM
its a bulliten chill i didnt make it
Let's examine the problem, shall we? First of all, can a sistah get a bit of punctuation? And what is a 'bulliten'.... hmm? Where is the apostrophe for 'it's?'
That alone unnerved me, but I kept my mouth shut. But it wasn't too long before Freshman Cousin started again. I was online once late on a weeknight and I saw that he was also online, so I sent him a message and told him to go to bed. This is what I got:
----------------- Original Message -----------------
To Strength
no skool i gotta go lol peace i was just talkin 2 my gf
Allow me to translate that. Basically, he's telling me to calm down because he doesn't have school tomorrow and the only reason he was online was to talk to his girlfriend. But once again, no punctuation. Call me old school (school!! not skool!), but I need a subject, verb, and predicate in my life.
Another time, the Sixth Grader sent me a message asking me how I was doing. I responded and this is what I got back.
----------------- Original Message -----------------
To Strength
can i be on your top.even know i'm aloud, don't tell my mom or (freshman) that i was on mysace.don't ask!
Again, allow me to use my bilingual skills to translate. What he meant to say was, (insert British accent here) "Hello, my beautiful and enchanting cousin! I was wondering if you would give me the honor of being one of your top friends on Myspace. My mother and brother are aware that I am on this site, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this message to them. Cheers!" Instead, I got a muddled mess. Where is the question mark in the first sentence? And didn't he mean 'allowed'? I can forgive the 'mysace' as being a typo, but as for the rest ..... ARGHHHHHH!!!! (Of course, his parents are aware of this convo and for unrelated reasons revoked his myspace privileges).
I may have to start a one-woman literacy campaign. I haven't seen my cousins in quite awhile, but the next time I do, we're going to have some spelling practice. I refuse to allow them to become statistics!
(Photo from http://www.ticketspecialists.com/theater/images/25th-annual-putnam-county-spelling-bee.jpg)
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Don't Ever Wonder (Or, Appreciation Pt. 2)
Sometimes the moment hits me harder than others. There have been times when I'm driving in my car and a certain song will play on the radio that makes my shoulders shake. Other times, like today at work, I just want to shriek, "WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME??!!!"
I am talking about Maxwell, who I had the pleasure of meeting in 2001. Okay, it was a concert, with thousands of other people there, but I'd like to think it was just the two of us in the room. This was back when his last album, Now, had been released and I was playing it nonstop, particularly "Lovers Only." A new singer by the name of Alicia Keys opened up for him and I spent the rest of the show drooling over Maxwell, or Max, as he lets me call him.
Max and I have a complicated history. Back in college, two of my roommates were crazy about him, but I just didn't understand. His music was alright, but I thought he was rather odd looking. His hair was all over his head and he was always doing something bizarre in his videos. I liked his music, but he wasn't on critical levels.
Then a few years later, I saw him do an interview on BET. I don't know what it was -- the sunglasses he wore, the tone of voice or his outfit -- but it was then that I got it. Dude was special. I was sold.
Because I worked (still do) in a creative environment, I was able to display the poster I bought from the 2001 concert near my desk. Of course my colleagues wanted to talk smack, particularly the men. One guy in particular always had something smart to say -- Maxwell's overrated, his music sucks, when is he coming out with a new single? I kept my head high and ignored the naysayers.
That was years ago. Now it's truly time to ask, 'When are you putting out a new single, Max?' I've been patient -- Lord knows I have been. I give him a fair dose of Google and I saved him as a friend on myspace, which includes a sample from his "upcoming" album. Other than that, I sit tight and check the new releases each week.
The problem is -- I am not a patient woman. I listened to one of my stations on Pandora.com the other day and they had the nerve to play Max's "Ascension (Don't Ever Wonder)." It took everything within me not to keep from falling out of my chair. Oh, Max. It was so good to hear his voice again.
Now I'm back to checking his website and Google, to see if I can get even a mention of a cd release date. Hopefully, I'll get some news soon. It's so hard to be dedicated, especially when there are so many men out there who deserve my appreciation.
(Photo from http://z.about.com/d/randb/1/0/Y/5/-/-/Maxwell.jpg)
Monday, November 12, 2007
Reunited
Please forgive me for my recent tirade. I had a terrible day and needed to vent, so I did it on the blogosphere. I'm much better now and thanks for hanging in there with me. I hope I didn't offend anyone with my rant. I was going to delete that post altogether, but I think I'm going to leave it there so I can return to it a year from now and look at it as a distant memory, a lesson learned.
Anyway, the recent drama in my life sent me straight back to my home away from home, Barnes & Noble. Say what you want, but I am a regular at this spot, which is just outside my parents' neighborhood. I often get in trouble for traveling to the B&N and leaving without saying hello to my folks. Ah well.
This time, I saw two other people who are at the B&N as often as I am. First there's Duane -- I call him that because he reminds me of a guy I once knew of the same name. I can never figure out if Duane is a writer, student or homeless. No matter what the weather, he walks around wearing a wife beater, dark hat and dingy pants. He's always in the cafe and his table is covered with books and papers. He's always either writing furiously or reading furiously. I'm torn between asking him what he's working on and giving him a dollar. Instead, I just leave him alone and watch from afar.
The other person is Helen. She's this college-aged disabled girl and her father usually drops her off there and picks her up later. I don't know anything about her, other than what I see. I'm not so sure what the name of her disability is, but she walks with an exaggerated limp. The first time I met her a few months ago, she scared me to death. I was sitting at my table, minding my own business when I heard this strange, noise. It's hard to describe, but it sounded the way I think a demon would sound shortly before it took it's next victim. Anyway, I soon realized my life wasn't in danger. The noise was Helen, grunting as she copied some words out of a book.
Once, I went to my beloved B&N, only to see that there was some kind of emergency inside and the fire department had it blocked off. I went into a panic and called the operator, trying to find another B&N. There weren't any nearby, so I had to settle for Border's. Once I got there, who did I see? Helen and Duane, doing there usual work. Now that's dedication!
Anyway, it was good to be surrounded by books, quiet and some familiar faces. Plus, a caramel macchiato makes everything better. Yum!
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