Sunday, April 30, 2006
Guys, I've actually spent a whole weekend kicking it! Can you believe it? Tenacious got her ass out the crib! No more rattling around the apartment like a marble in an old ass Folder's coffee can with the crazy cat. **claps self on back**
Now Friday started off with me being down in the dumps. A sista is tired of her job and I am, like, a word from snapping on my condescending, irritating, "closet homo" boss. He's a prick and at least he knows it but when you haven't gotten any booty for a over a week and your nerves are shot, the last thing you want to hear is his little slick ass remarks and digs. Now usually I ignore the bastard or I just shoot off a remark of my own (Hello I do hold a degree from an accredited four year university and I am a self confessed smart ass. Did you really think I would not catch that) to shut his ass up but he was really working my nerves. Finally, I just had to snap.
"Why don't you go back in your office and do some work for a change instead of whining about that gay haircut. I mean, really, do you think anyone but you care that they took an extra inch off? It still looks horrible! Gawd!!"
After shutting his ass down, he left me alone but I peeped him in the mirror fretting over his gay ass haircut. F*cking prick.
I leave work and decide to get the nails done. The lady was playing with my hands so good, I went to sleep on her ass. That didn't stop that little Korean lady. She worked magic on my hands even washing them for me while I dozed off. They're a smig too long for my taste but they look really nice.
I'm prepared for yet another Friday night in the crib already popping my popcorn and getting the couch situated for Friday's Night TV lineup when the cellie rings. It's my girl from work. She's hitting a Wizards game and she got an extra ticket and do I want to go? Even though sports are not really "my thing", it beats watching Hogan Knows Best. I get ready, of course rocking the finest of the Club Wear Collection because I know we're hitting the streets after the game. She swoops through and lo and behold, I'm a party to an unintentional double date.
I don't do double dates. They always end disastrous. Either I don't like the guy or the girl and it usually ends with an argument of some sort, some drinks thrown in someone's face, and someone getting left. My boyfriend doesn't even bring them up because he knows me answer: HELL F*CKING NAW! The last double we went to was with his frat brother and his girlfriend who I could not stand. The feelings were mutual of course so we spent the night exchanging "catty female" dialogue. Until she called me a "B*tch". And then I just had to throw my Shrimp Fettuccini Alfredo on her ass. Of course we were escorted out of Red Lobster’s and banned. I was so pissed. Pissed because the pasta dish was good until I tossed it on her. Maybe I should have thought about that one. But I mean you don't call me out like that. Hell I know I'm a B*tch but did you really need to announce it in front of strangers? So I think we're going to scrap when we get to the parking lot. I think Red Lobster’s did too because I saw the hostess on the phone. Can't have "niggers" out slapping each other down in the parking lot you know. I go to pull off the earrings and the stiletto boots while my boyfriend, to no avail, is trying to calm me down and drag me to the car. You know me. I'm all gutter and sh*t like, "That b*tch don't know me! I'm from the Chi! I f*cks b*tches up with the regular. Who she calling a b*tch?! Ima show her a b*tch!" all while calling her to come outside. Of course she wouldn't. His frat brother called my boyfriend on his cell and told him to take me home. Killing part this heff had about 4 inches and 40 lbs. over me. She coulda f*cked me up but she quivering like a baby in the lobby. That was the last double date we went on.
So I wasn't that thrilled to be part of an unintentional double date. Especially if I can't see the person beforehand. He was aiight but he isn't anything to gush about on my blog. He did have real nice teeth though. A little dull for my taste but he was cool. Until we got to the game. Now I'm trying to lightly doze off because I can care less about a Lebron James and the Wizards. I mean Urr-sha was in the house. MC Hammer was in then house (How could he afford floor seats? Shouldn't he be saving his bread?). But B-Ball is not "my thing". I asked one question in that “fake interested” way. Dude proceeded to give me the entire history of basketball. The origins of the material the basketballs are made with and sh*t. Like, "Did you know Moses played basketball" type sh*t. He was just the yapping (in between screaming his head off and sh*t) and yapping. Dude would not shut the hell up no matter how many times I hinted at it. I even offered to buy him one of those expensive ass hot dogs to shut his ass up. It was a no go. So not only am I nodding off, my side was getting bruised because of his constant elbowing. Startling me out of my nap and sh*t. I don't give a f*ck about that damn play! So you know Tenacious was about to snap. Do he not understand the consequences of f*cking with my nap?
The game took forever (at least to me that is with Gabby McGabb on my right shoulder) and I was ready to go. I'm a chatterbox myself but lawd even I know when to shut the hell up. I just kept shooting death glares at my girl (of course she was ignoring my ass on purpose. I know she felt the heat radiating from my eyes on her weave) but I knew I couldn't escape because for the most part she was my ride home. The game ends (Wizards lost) and we go down the street to Hooters which of course was packed but I love Hooters wings. I would work at Hooters if I didn't have to stuff the uniform top with tissue (plus flesh-colored stockings, the color Orange, and cheerleader sneakers complete with the thick ass socks don’t do it for me. Now had it been some Dukes and classic K-Swiss (no socks) with an anklet? I'm there *lol*) Finally once we got some real food, he began to shut the hell up. So my mind is whirling. Like the more I feed him, the less time he has to open his mouth. So I'm adding chicken to his plate on the sly to keep him occupied. But then he broke my number 78th rule: He touched me. He touched my shoulder with his greasy ass fingers. And had the nerve to tell me I was looking tense so he wanted to give me a massage.
After I flicked his greasy fingers off me, I had to go to the washroom to look at the damage. Shoulders looking like I had a Vaseline bath and sh*t. I can see his fingerprints in the grease like this is CSI and I need a print or some sh*t. I can't go to the club smelling like chicken! Wearing Obsession by Chicken Grease. So you know my girl come slides in like one of the zombies from Thriller talking about "he didn't mean it", "he's so nice he just get nervous around girls" and he's "so sorry"
^^Like I care.
So I give her a break down of my "no double dating especially with someone whose mouth moves more than mine at an all you can get buffet" clause and now I'm just ready to go. I leave the bathroom with dude looking at me all nervous like I'm about to shut Hooters down but I accept his apology.
We go by Love yet again and have a good ass time. Dude talks too much but he can dance. And he left me alone after one dance. He danced off somewhere which gave him some cool points because I was expecting him to post up with me. Only had to invoke my "One Dance Minimum" twice. I refused a few numbers but I sure did accept a few drinks. Threw back some shots. Danced some more with some more people. Of course I left the club looking like outside and smelling like sweat...and chicken.
After work on Saturday, CUTIE took me to the Cheesecake Factory and we went to Platinum. He is not a dancer. At all. He did not step on the dance floor once. He posted at the bar with the rest of the lazy fellas and too pretty to kick it ladies while I cut a rug on the floor. What...You thought I was going to hang around the bar? I tried to drag his ass out on the floor but apparently the dance floor is Kryptonite for some guys. Nigga froze right at the edge and would not budge. After tugging on him to no avail, I gave up. Then I guess his ex was in the house and she wanted to give him the "Who Is This Bitch?" routine. But I was such a f*cking lady. I just took my drink from him and walked off. Blew a kiss at her just to be b*tchy. I let him handle his business. Sh*t he ain't my man. We ain't f*cking. Her and her little crew of buzzards played me close that night. I felt like a star because all eyes were on me. I felt like I had my own personal papparazi crew. I had this little one piece aqua gaucho 'fit on with a very low cut front and back that makes it looks as if I have boobies so you know I was doing it. You couldn't tell me I was a 34B that night. I was walking around like I was a full C-cup and sh*t. I just laughed their asses off. I mean, really, if you don't want him and you can't stand him then why do you care who he is with? He kept me laced lovely with drinks and because he did not dance, he pretty much left me to my own devices. It wasn’t like we were grinding on the dance floor. You probably would not have known we were together. I’d chill, drink my drink, hear my “song”, and skate back to the dance floor.
CUTIE thought it would be some drama but I told him I don't fight girls in the club. Plus if she was feeling froggy she should have leaped. I mean it was 4 versus 1. Buy…You just ain't gonna beat my ass. I woulda bit the sh*t outta someone. Someone would have left toothless or something. Ol’ girl and her crew kept a sizable distance from me and I kept a watchful eye on her. You never know with some females. As long as she did not personally disrespect me, then it was straight. He is not my man nor is he sliding in between these thighs so I have no ties to him like that. Tenacious doesn’t fight women over men anyway. Hell it’s not that serious. You can have him honey.
I had a good time at Platinum. I mean technically the weekend was fairly boring but it sure beat last weekend. Tomorrow is CUTIE'S burf-day. He wants to kick it tonight and well...I am off tomorrow. We'll see. We'll see
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Today is my grandmother's 66th Birthday. With the way the world is today, I can only pray that I live to see my 66th Birthday. Of course, she was doing her favorite past time: watching Law and Order: SVU. Sh*t that's my show so we stayed on the phone commenting about the episode, even though it was yet another rerun. Ever since my grandfather passed last Thanksgiving she has been a little lonely but of course my crazy family has been there every step of the way. Mainly meddling. I keep telling them to back off my grandma (they stalk her like the paparazzi stalk celebs) but of course they don’t listen. My grandmother and I are so chill. Every time I go home, I spend the night at her house and we would sit up watching our crime shows and eating popcorn. I'm like a little old lady. We get into the shows, grab some crossword puzzles and we're good to go. And like any "senior"--eventually we go to sleep in front of the TV. I <3 my hip Grandma!
We are a family of non-listeners. We are also a family of nappers. Nappers as in "sleep" and not Nappers as in "hair". Although we are technically both. Hell not a "good hair" in sight in the family. Even the "light skinned" ones have nappy hair. That's a strong ass gene: Nappy Hair. But it's all good...My Dark and Lovely keeps me with the "Indian" hair. You know the White Folks at the job are still convinced I'm "mixed" with something. Yeah, I'm "mixed" all right. With Negro and Slave.
I love to sleep. Sleeping is one of my favorite past times (among others). I even schedule a nap time. Usually between 3-5 pm, I can be found curled in the bed sleeping. Sometimes it's a little late but people know not to f*cks with me when it comes to my naps. Many of folks have gotten cursed out for disturbing my nap. The house could be on fire but I don't care. Leave me the hell alone. 9 times out of 10 you don't want anything anyway. Calling me talking about What You Doing? F*ck you think I'm doing at 3:30? Sleep muthaf*cker. Calling the house phone talking about, You at home? *grits teeth* Naw...I'm in Siberia. Did you not just call the house phone? So where else would I be but at...home? Stupid questions I do hate.
And don't let me get into one of those deep sleeps I can't hear or feel anything. In college, my friends would play, "How Long Will It Take For Tenacious To Wake Up"? The game basically consisted of them putting heavy ass things on me to see if I would wake up. Usually, I never did. But I would wake up to their loud ass laughter because apparently a person can sit on my ass and I will not wake up. I'd wake up back all sore, milk crate imprints in my skin, paper cuts and sh*t. That's what friends are for right? That's also why my cooking is sub-par (well besides the fact that my ass really can't cook anyways).
It appears that the “Breasts", "Singing", and "Cooking" gene must skip a generation or something. I lack all three. Even though you can't tell me I am not Aretha while in the shower. *lol*
I'd put something in to bake, get too comfortable on the couch and next thing you know, pork chops looking like hockey pucks. Rice not only crunchy but stuck to the bottom of the pot. Gotta soak the pot for ½ a day to loosen up the burnt rice. Yeah, if I lay on the couch too long, I will go to sleep. I think I read somewhere that if you sleep in the same place everyday eventually your body will equate that place with "sleep" and you will always fall asleep. That's why they don't promote doing work in bed because you will never fall asleep because your body is used to being "up" while in bed. I don't know if this is true (Scientific studies tend to be a piece of sh*t sometimes) but it seems true. So I use the bed…and floor…and wall **wink wink** for extracurricular activities and take all my naps on the couch.
I think I was a hobo in a past life because I can sleep anywhere. I've went to sleep a little bit of everywhere. When I was younger my mother told me my favorite nap spot was in the closet. I'm like "WTF? Who sleeps in the closet? Mama are you confessing an incident of child abuse?" We went to an arcade and I crawled underneath one of the basketball games and went to sleep. My mother thought someone had abducted me and called the police. I only woke up because it was too much noise even for me. Craziest thing was I got a whooping when I got home. Who gets a whooping for scaring a parent?! And this was the same person who left me in the store because she forgot I was with her. She got all the way home to realize she did not have her child with her. *sigh* I was an Amber Alert waiting to happen. I even use to sleep under the guests' coats. You know my room was the designated "coat room" whenever there was a party. Mainly to hide from the drunken party guests who wanted to wake me up and "Do That Dance" at like 3 am. Rubbing the crust out my eye trying to slide across the floor in my little piece Care Bears PJs with the footies even though the bottom part was dirty and cracked as hell.
Ahhh the bittersweet memories of my youth.
My mother said motherhood will shake that out of me but I'm not convinced. This is the same person who goes to sleep while babysitting. I am that lazy babysitters who popped in a video for the kids so I can go to sleep. This is the same person who was knocked out while my nephew howled beside me when he was an infant. This is the same person who naps right along with the baby. Hell, I'm out for the count before the baby! Once my godson's mother came to pick him up and discovered both of us knocked the f*ck out.
Hey it was 3:45. She knew the deal.
What can I say? I love sleeping.
It's officially 3 WEEKS until I hit the BIG 2-3!
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
I was feeling listless and bored so after work Monday, I decided I wanted to go to the zoo. It was 75 degrees outside and I was feeling too good to go in the house and mope around. So when CUTIE called while I was on lunch, he agreed to take me to the zoo.
CUTIE is still a little leery of me but I think he's warming up to my crazy ways. He's taking the punches I throw like a champ with only minimum ducking. He will just have to get used to my aggressive ways.
Now after being nice enough to park my car correctly, we hit the road. Instantly, I'm nervous because he drives like a DCer--very aggressive. I'm just not into the bo-guarding, sudden stops and U-turns and cutting in front of Metro buses. I was breaking into a mini-sweat and wished for the 80th time that we had taken the Metro. When he got too close to the guardrails trying to cut in front of someone, I was ready to jump out the car and into the Potomac. He has a little road rage too. A taxi cut him off and he sped up just to flip the driver the bird and threaten his life.
Now The National Zoo is a pretty ass zoo don't get me wrong. It's nice and big and almost has the appearance of a park. But the animals are some of the saddest looking animals I've ever seen. They all have that "Please put me out my misery" look about them. Just be looking pitiful as hell. I left my trusty camera at home otherwise I would show you their woeful expressions. They were just sad. Like they knew they were stuck in their current situation and it was nothing they could do about it. Glum ass animals.
And the zoo really doesn't believe in a lot of barriers. Sure some of the animals are properly secured but for the most part I didn't see what was stopping the cheetahs from hopping over that pitiful ass pond to maul a muthaf*cker. For some exhibits, it was literally the low ass guardrail and some bushes that separated us from them. And not an animal trainer in sight. They even had this contraption where the monkeys could swing from over our heads with the claim that it's a "low voltage" area on the contraption that deters them from escaping. Sh*ttt the way those animals were looking, I'm sure one or two monkeys woulda kamikazed it and got down to the grounds. I guess a monkey tried to do it because we were told they were on "lock down" in their exhibit until further notice. They were looking at us like "Help...Me!!"
Of course the animals' houses stank. Rank as f*ck. Especially the monkey house. I had to hold my nose walking through that bad boy. Most of the animals were disinterested in us anyway because apparently it was feeding time. The tigers were patiently pacing in front of the door for their meal. Sh*t you couldn't pay me enough to feed those damn animals. Damn that rubbing the lion cubs and sh*t while the parents watch on...sh*t I watch Animal Planet. I know what the f*ck a lion can do to your ass. Will maul the sh*t out your ass before anyone could shoot it down. Damn that. Animals are smart as hell. They patiently waiting yall. Viva la Revolution! (Or however you say it)
I have a fear of birds. Well pigeons to be exact. We're looking at some of the pretty (safe) birds and decided to hit the Bird House. Now why did we do that? As soon as I walked in the door because it was like an enclosed conservatory, a f*cking bird swooped down on my ass. Like the Black Person I am...I freaks the f*ck out. I'm already busting through the door, leaving CUTIE, the Tour Guide, and random people looking at me like I'm crazy. No amount of assurance that the birds are harmless from the Tour Guide could convince me to walk back in there. Sh*t they could have bird flu! And the f*cker swooped at me on purpose. Then started singing. Probably was f*cking laughing. Then we're leaving (CUTIE hiding a smile) and we have to walk past the Cranes exhibit. The aggressive cranes. The cranes that tried to f*ck up the gate when they saw us. They all kind of turned their eye to us and flew at the gate. Startled the sh*t out of us so we hauled ass (me about 10 feet in front of him already..In a horror movie you know CUTIE woulda been dead f*cking around with me). Killing part--The exhibit was not a cage. It was basically an enclosed space. F*ckers coulda just flew over the gate and f*cked our black asses up.
Then we hit the Amazonian Rain Forest exhibit and they have a sign that stated, "Animals are free to roam this exhibit." Why did a little monkey hop to another tree in front of me? I screamed, causing some little kids to scream and start crying. Dirty looks from all the parents followed. Yet another Guide told me the monkeys are not dangerous. Yeah...they said the same thing about the little monkey from Outbreak. CUTIE was just laughing at me all day.
We look at a few more exhibits without incident and he gave me a piggy back ride all the way back to the car. We go back to his neck of the woods, Uptown to Georgia Ave. Now he's telling me how gully his neighborhood is but to me it looks like any part of Chicago. You got that one block that is really good and then the next block could be really bad. Neighborhood couldn't have been that bad if Lexus, BMWs, Jags and White People are living there. Yeah I saw a few abandoned houses, a couple of crack heads, and of course the ghetto grocery store but he made it seem like Drive-By Central. Besides a White, Gay couple who drives a nice ass BMW truck is his next door neighbors. Yeah...how "hood" is that? So his mother is at home and I instantly tense up because I ain't trying to meet anyone's mother. Hell he ain't my man! I don't want her to think we're serious or something. But his mother was cool.
He rolled a blunt dead in front of his mother and they proceeded to smoke together?! WTF? My moms are never that cool to smoke some dope with me like it's nothing. My mother doesn't drink or do drugs. One wine cooler and she's gone. Apparently he smokes with his mom all the time. I was a little uncomfortable because I'm not a smoker and I guess I got a little high off the contact because I started getting the giggles.
His mother then asks me to her birthday party on Saturday talkin' 'bout "It's going to be wild. We popping bottles and having strippers". She sold me on the strippers. Who can turn down a stripper named White Chocolate? Then we went out to eat and talked some more. Well he talked and I listened. He's a really sweet guy. The weed thing kind of turned me off but he's still cool. I did have to warn him to not catch any real feelings for me because I have a boyfriend and we would never work out. He seemed cool with it, but you never know. I mean he's offering to get my nails and hair done and keep the car full of gas and hey with gas prices @ $3.00 he better quit playing. Damn the nails and hair...sh*t he had me at "I'd make sure your gas tank is always filled". Music to my ears.
I ended the date because I was getting sleepy and by this time it was almost 11 pm and I had to get up for work, so he dropped me off at home and I threw myself in the bed, smelling like weed and outside. I was too lazy to shower. So sue me.
<<--I thought this picture was a little fitting *lol* It's amazing the sh*t that pops up on Google Images...
WARNING: THIS POSTING IS VERY, UM, GRAPHIC. LOTS OF SEX REFERENCES SO THOSE EASILY OFFENDED--OH F*CKING WELL. DID YOU NOT READ MY BLOG'S DESCRIPTION??
One of my best friends (ALIAS: FH-Fort Hood, TX is where she is currently stationed) and I am always creating new slangs and definitions. We're just silly like that. We call it our own code. We've been doing it since High School and have no plans to stop.
For example: Food References are usually an indication that we're talking about our favorite subject--SEX! We talk about SEX so much we should be labeled as addicts but that would mean going to self-help classes like, SEX ADDICTION ANYNOMOUS, and being that I don't do well in those classes (I was booted from an Anger Management class because I was picking up tips on how to look remorseful in front of the judge at your Assault/Battery trial, how to not leave bruises, and taking notes during "testimonies". Apparently that's not the purpose of the class) so me and FH would be in too much bliss in those type of classes. Picking up men and sh*t because we know they're good for a round or two.
He went to Wendy's last night and girl was the Spicy Chicken good!
Translation: He ate the puss-in-panties and the d*ck wasn't that bad either.
I wonder what kind of polish sausage is that?
Translation: Damnnnnn. How big do you think his d*ck is?
Red Lobster was not on the menu that night.
Translation: I woulda went down on him but it was a bit funky down there.
^^^You get the picture? I can go on and on but um yeah. Our minds are in the gutter. Sometime she would say some sh*t to me and I'm like, huh? And sometimes our wires do get crossed. I'd really be talking about food and she would think my mind is in the gutter. Now sure I don't blab all my boyfriend's and I sex life because well ewwww. Who wants to hear about that? Hell, I've been with the same guy for four years so she's pretty much get the gist of our sex life. Besides, I know she don't want my man. We don't share men. She don't want my sloppy seconds nor do I.
But FH is my best friend and I love her. We've never had a fight or a (serious) argument. How many people can say that?
Now I mentioned "STICKY THIGHS" in a previous post. STICKY THIGHS can be a good/bad thing depending on the situation. Ladies, if you ever had STICKY THIGHS then you know what I'm talking about. That residue that forms at the upper thigh during sex that makes that squishy kind of noise. Usually the "run off" becomes the "Wet Spot" in the bed that men avoid and you end up laying in your own juices kinda pissed off because it's well cold and sticky. Sometimes a STICKY THIGH can be a good thing (He worked your ass so good you don't even care about the wet spot). And then again, it could be an annoyance. Especially if you're anticipating something good and it sucks. So not only are you in the cold and sticky wet spot but your thighs are sticky for no damn reason at all. So you are pissed and annoyed.
For my best friend and I, we use STICKY THIGH when we're describing a guy who was a serious disappointment in bed. We also STICKY THIGH to describe a good one as well. We've also expanded it to mean any unwanted sexual advances because well a STICKY THIGH is annoying when not used for good.
We started using STICKY THIGH in High School when we were young and dumb. Nothing has changed too much in the years. We still are young. Now in high school we would talk big sh*t about sex but when it came down to dropping the drawls, we would clam up. Hence our reputation as "teases". We just weren’t giving up the goodies to just any ol' body. Now my best friend has this PHYNE ass boyfriend in high school. He resembled my "husband" Morris (as in Chestnut) and I was pissed that she "pulled" him first. Damn my addiction to Aunt Annie's! If it wasn't for me being all in my pretzel, I probably would have seen him first, thus claiming him as "mine". So after going out for 6 months (hell nowadays 6 months might as well be 6 years for us but in high school, we held firm to that "6 month rule") she decided to just gone head and "give him some". Now she told me he had a nice lil' package due to numerous "Peanut" (aka Dry Humping) episodes and she was getting tired of Peanuts and wanted the entire Snickers Bar.
So when her moms went to work, she invited him over with me on standby at my house in case she needed an alibi as to why she wasn't picking up the house phone (she was at my house if her mother called and asked). I didn't hear from her until the next day at school when she walked in. Judging by the glum ass expression on her face, I assumed the incident went bad. He was a really nice guy so I assumed that he backed out at the last minute out of "respect for her". Sh*t you can't find a brother like that anymore. All it takes is the word and the n*gga clothes falls off like magic. Already under the covers before you take your shoe off good. She said she would tell me at lunch because we had "ear hustlers" all up in our business. At lunch, she told me they broke up.
Shocked, I asked for details, braiding my hair to the back because I just knew I would have to f*ck Morris up for f*cking with my girl. I was ready to head up to his school and everything. She looked at me and said:
*Dramatic Pause* (Yeah we're dramatic storytellers as well) GIRL HE WAS A STICKY THIGH.
Confused because the word was not in our usual vernacular, I asked for the definition. She said:
A STICKY THIGH is an N*gga who bust too quick. Girl we were at the crib and we were just lying around eating peanuts (dry humping) and Hershey kisses (kissing...duh...lol). So we 'bout to get ready and do it the dew (have sex) and I'm ready girl. I'm like a Fruit Geyser ("wet") 'cuz I was waiting for it. Then it happens. 3 Push-Its and it's over. N*gga sweating hard like he just put in work and sh*t! I was pissed. Do you think this n*gga noticed? Hell naw! He turns over and go to sleep on my ass. So I'm just sitting in the dark fuming like "This N*gga done got my thigh sticky for no reason at all"! And he couldn't get it up again after that. I was so mad, I woke his ass up and threw him out and told him to never call me again! F*cking STICKY THIGH!
^^They got back together after that but STICKY THIGH quickly became a new code word.
Judging by our tone, you can tell whether it's good or bad.
Good: It was so good, he left my thighs all sticky. I didn't know he would leave them that damn sticky!"
Bad: I knew he was going to be a STICKY THIGH when he was fumbling around the Breast area. Gnawing on the breasts like was a Hershey Bar and sh*t.
Eww looking at him is going my make my THIGH STICKY. You know he's going to try to holla at one of us.
^^Sometimes ambiguous but for the most part--It gets our point across.
Either you STICKY THIGH or...STICKY THIGH.
I had a guy (One of those "HE DOESN'T COUNTS") who was a STICKY THIGH because he came as soon as he slid in. No lie. In the process of him sliding it, he came. And he thought he had did something at that.
Ummm...Yeah. He doesn’t count. Don't act like I'm the only one who has a "He Doesn't Count" in their closet! Hell I got two of the muthaf*ckers! You're like "He Who Is Not Named" if I place you in that category. Now I'm upfront and honest about who I've let between the thighs but if you're a "He Doesn't Count" I will deny we've had sex to the end of time. Hell I will fight a muthaf*cker for even implying that we've did something. Straight denial for that ass.
He tried to use the old "Girl you were so wet I couldn't control myself" bit. I woulda fell for it if only I wasn't as dry as hell. Damn condom had more lubrication than my ass. It was his f*cking sweat all over my ass! So I was doubled pissed. Not only did I not get any satisfaction but you have the nerve to sweat all over me like you really did something? I think my eye twitched that day. I threw his ass out and strickened him from the record. When my girl ask did he hit, I was like "Hell F*cking Naw he ain't hit. Why, is that what he's telling folks? He is lying on his d*ck yo!" and cursed his ass out the next time I saw him for "lying" like that. To him, it counted. "I should be glad that I make a dude come quick" or some other sh*tty line like that was used.
There was also a guy that had me STICKY THIGHED every day :-) Had to leave him alone before I became a stalker. Yes...It was just that good. It was too much for my ass to handle so I copped out like a punk before I turned into that crazy, deranged girl who be sitting outside his crib at night smoking a Marlbolo (and I don't even smoke) fuming because he hasn't answered my 15 phone calls and my p*ssy is humming like a Negro Spiritual and I'm like a Junkie because I need a fix. No siree, Tenacious will not be a strung out sex-head and sh*t.
And my dentist? Yeah he might have been a potential STICKY THIGH. An unintended bi-racial baby is not in my immediate plans.
So men: Be Careful on your STICKY THIGH ability...You might not get the result you want. And if you do...Ummm yeah Ima have to put you on my standby list.
<<---Picture is not my car but that's how my car was parked basically!
Tell me why THIS was left on my windshield the next day:
^^^Ain't that 'bout a bitch? You know that had to be a White Person. Who else would take the time to write me a note about my sh*tty parking and leave it? Someone clearly had eaten their Gangsta Os that morning. Black Folks woulda just cursed up a storm or better yet tried to fit in the space. We ain't got scrap paper just hanging around in the car. Hell let alone a pen. And I bet that person was like "Take That Evil Parking Person. I’m Going To Leave A Note...HA!" like **smacks hands together* "Hmmmpt I told him/her!" Sh*t one of those BIG ASS Pick-Up Trucks managed to park in the space. Ok looking back technically my car was more parallel parked than regular parked but still...I started to leave a note stating "Suck My D*CK" and leave the sh*t like that to be spiteful but CUTIE (his alias yall) convinced me otherwise. Yeah I got him to park it correctly after he laughed for like 20 minutes.
And to think I was going to be considerate and leave a note for the person whose car I bumped. F*ck that sh*t now.
See what happens when Tenacious tries to be nice?
But that sh*t was funny as hell though!
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Sorry everyone, this has been a boring weekend so far for me. Nothing new, nothing special. I miss the boyfriend guys.
Let's see Friday, I went to work. Nothing funny or interesting happened. Mouth was still hurting from the extraction so I was a tad grumpy because I left my medicine at home and I was too lazy to walk back to get it.
I hung out with the little cutie I met leaving the dentist Thursday but I think I scare him. I'm a little too blunt for him I guess. We went to get something to eat and I came home-alone. Me and the cat watched The History Channel until I went to sleep.
Saturday I was so bored, I went to the local thrift store to sort clothing as a sort of "community service" outing with my job. Yes. Tenacious was soo bored I rolled out the bed to do some community service. Came home, washed a badly needed load of laundry, vacuumed, dusted, and mopped. Watched a little TV. Got psychoanalyzed by my best friend (I have unresolved relationship issues. I am scared of commitment yada yada yada). Surfed the web. Reread all the archives in my Daily Blogs. I was just listless yall. It was raining most of the day so I wasn't comfortable taking the car out because I was scared I would crash or something. VA already has bad drivers; we don't need one more on the road.
Cutie called (Ima really need to start creating alias) and being that he could drive and I needed groceries and I was thriving for attention because the cat was not feeling my suffocating affection, I sweet-talked him into coming over in the rain from DC to VA to drive me around. He drove me to the store and Hollywood Videos and as repayment; I fried some chicken and made some rice. I am happy to report no one was poisoned in my attempts to cook. He brought over some drank. I partook in the Vodka and Cranberry. He got drunk and passed out on the couch. I watched Sin City (I <3 that movie) and around 4 am, he woke up and left. He's a really nice guy but like I said, I think I scare him with my forwardness. A little too jumpy for my taste but he do look like T.I. with an extra 25 pounds. *sigh* I miss my boyfriend yall. I couldn't get drunk how I wanted to because usually my boyfriend would "take advantage of me" and we would have great alcohol induced sex.
Sunday, I cleaned (again). I ventured out in the car and drove around for a little bit. Attempted to park (I am a bad parker) taking up two spaces in the process. After playing around for 15 minutes trying to park correctly, I said "F*ck It" and left the sh*t where it was. I tried to get a gentleman to park it for me correctly but he was looking at me like I was nuts so someone will be mad at me for taking up two damn spots. Maybe I'll get cutie to fix it for me.
Funny thing was I kinda hit the bumper of someone's car. A little tap of course. No damages to mine or the other car. But my dumb ass panicked and called my father to see if I should leave a note. Clueless style. Remember when she side swiped someone's car while attempting to pass her driver's test and she was like, "Ooh, should I leave a note?"
Classic line. Classic "ROFL".
So I'm worried because I'm like well I bumped this car and it's not like I could blame someone else because looking at the crappy parking job I've just done, the person just will know it's me and I just tapped the car but it seemed loud as hell in the underground parking garage and of course no witness, no cameras but I would be pissed if someone did it to me. So I call my dad for some advice. My dad, the deacon. My dad, “Mr. Sugar doesn’t melt in my mouth because I'm so "saved" now". I didn't want to alarm my boyfriend partly because I knew he would "freak" about his "baby". So I called my dad after scrutinizing the cars for the 10th time making sure there are no Blue paint specks on my car and no Black specks on the other car. I started to run to get the digital camera to take some pictures but I realized the batteries are still charging. My dad had just got out of church, mind you, when I called so he's on his "Praise The Lawd, When Am I Going To Get Saved And Embrace, Hell Go, To Church" Rant because the sermon was so good and the preacher really "prached". So I call in my usual dramatic fashion:
Me: Daddy, I hit a car. There's not a driver but should I leave a note? The Rules of the Road book says I should leave a note if I hit an unattended vehicle (yeah I bust out an old copy from the glove compartment). Does this classify as a hit and run if I just well hit and run?
Father: [My full real first name], what are you talking about? Whose car did you hit? What are the damages? *pause* Who the hell hits a parked car?
Me: [explains the situation]. There are not any damages to the vehicle. I just tapped it a bit when I was trying to get in the space. I think I'm going to leave a note.
Father: Child is you stuck on stupid? Sh*t if no one saw it, keep it moving. You said no damages right? Right? [I confirm]. But in the mean time, leave driving alone. And you wonder why I won't buy you a car.
^^^How's that for a "saved" Christian? But I followed his advice and left it alone. I mean I literally tapped the bumper so no worries right?
I seriously need to get some business. I might just have to drag my black ass out by myself tonight.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
So yesterday before I went to bed, I was on Face Book (as usual) looking at my friends' updated profiles and albums, when I get a note from a "friend" out the blue. I haven't talk to this "friend" in a year. In fact, I haven't seen him in a year. So we're just chatting on AIM (yeah I finally logged on because we got tired of sending Face Book messages to each other back and forth), catching up with each other lives and what nots, when out the blue comes THE QUESTION:
Him: Hey T-Bird, how come we never, you know, hooked up?
He then hit me with this:
Him: I mean I've been digging you for a long time but you've always had a man. I didn't want to disrespect that because [boyfriend's name] is real cool and you look happy when you're with him. Plus I see you as a good friend. I didn't want to ruin the friendship by coming at you wrong. I know how you are lololol. But yeah, I'm feeling you. I be looking at your pictures and be like, "Damn I wish you were mine".
Say WHAT again?
Him: Sometimes it's to the point where I don't care if you're with [boyfriend's name]. I remember when you used to come by the crib and we'd go to sleep and I would want to just...And our little dance-offs where you would grind on me used to put dirty thoughts in my head. So what I'm getting at is what's good?
I guess he figured that was too much for me to handle (considering I had yet to give a reply) so he told me he would just holler at me later and signed off.
My initial reaction, of course, was shock. I never thought he felt that way about me. I mean I had no signs, clues, hell smoke signals nothing what-so-ever and I've gotten pretty good at picking up when a male friend sees me in a "more than friend" light. This guy and I used to be so tight. We would study together, chill together, go out to eat, sleep over each other's crib, and of course he was my dance partner at all the campus house parties because he got some serious dance moves. Hell we threw back shots together most of the time and ended up sloppy in the same room. We were each other "hype man" when drunk. He's seen good ol' after the after party Tenacious—the HARSH morning breathe, clothes all twisted, hair all over my head, "where am I”, “where's my shoes", and "how did I end up in the bathroom" Tenacious. Not too many men can claim that (not that they would want to...lol). Where this all came from I have no idea considering we were discussing his career and my plans to attend Graduate School. At first, I thought he was joking. Something tell me he was not playing. He was serious as an f*cking heart attack.
Then...I was pissed. Yes…pissed. Pissed because, well, I always kind of wanted to sleep with him. I’ve always had a mini-crush on him but I didn’t want to be a hypocrite by getting close to him by “pretending” to be his friend when I really just want to jump his bones. My curiosity really peaked when I got a “feel” of what he’s possibly working with and while I've always wanted to sample the merchandise, he would always kind of play me to the left. He gave me that “I have no sexual interest in you what-so-ever” vibe and it’s not like he was lacking in female affection because he always had some random female. Hell, he would tell me about his conquests. We would dance and I know he was holding back a little (mainly to my thoughts on feeling a poke in the booty while dancing—Big No No) and although we would sleep in the same bed, he would always make an effort to put a pillow between us (even though we both knew that as a confessed Bed Hog that damn pillow wasn't stopping me from moving all over the bed). So eventually I gave up and just settled on being "just his girl". His Road Dawg. You know that really cool female. I mean, I have a boyfriend right? We were past the 6 months rule. He was officially my boyfriend. Our sex life was (and still is) on point. So I shouldn't even be entertaining these thoughts right?
The last thing I need in my life is a torrid love affair. Someone is going to get hurt in the end. I damn sure don’t want it to be me. I don't want it to be my boyfriend. And I don't want it to be him either because I value our friendship. We haven't been talked lately due to my impending graduation (at the time), preparing to move to DC, our friends' untimely death, and his career as a Financial Analyst jumping off but we are still friends. We talked on my B-Day last year and he was going to come to Champaign to kick it but that fell through.
This revelation blew me. I don’t know what to say and think. Usually I’m the smart ass with an answer to everything.
Now...I don't know.
I want to be his friend but knowing he have desire for me and I still carry a bit of desire for him...I don't think it will go well. Especially since a part of me is touched that he carries a flame for me. I thought he didn’t just find me physically attractive or something. It’s just that feeling that someone else desires me in the same way that my boyfriend does that makes me tingle. Now the old Tenacious would not have gave a damn to be honest. I woulda went, did the damn thang, and came home like nothing happened. That’s what happened the last time my impulsiveness took hold and eventually got me trouble and almost broke up my relationship. Bad thing was that I wasn’t going to tell my boyfriend about it but this friend convinced me to do the right thing and confess my infidelity. He knew the guy well and everything. He was pissed when I told him but now I don't know if he was mad because I cheated on my boyfriend or I cheated with my boyfriend with someone other than him. Know what I'm saying?
Usually I have a pretty good idea when it comes to a situation like this because I usually can see it coming. I did not see this one coming. I used to wonder what it would be like to go with this friend because we are similar. But I used to brush it off because I'm like "Nah. He doesn’t like me like that". He's the type of dude that if you would prance around in your underwear around him, he would avert his eyes and tells you to put on some clothes. We would play WWE and he would not grab me around my waist. We would get sloppy and you know how your lips get when you're gone off that oil and he never even mentioned anything sexual.
I'm not stressing...But now my curiosity has been reignited.
Damn Damn Damn!!!
I need a drink.
Ok the dentist was not as bad as I thought. Never mind his teeth was like Volkswagen Bug Yellow and resembled Austin Power's grill. I was going to walk out but the sharp twinge of my tooth made me sit and think about this decision. I'm one tooth-less. Rather than opt for the root canal, I told him to yank that bad boy out. It's the back molar, you can't see it when I smile, and uh have you ever had a root canal? Uh Hell To The Naw! I have weird tolerance when it comes to pain. Now I can get a tattoo (one on my shoulder), piercing (at one time I had my navel, nipples, and tongue pierced), and once got punched in the mouth by a dude (another post yall)...But let me get a paper cut. I will fall out for dead. I will whimper, cry and squeal like I am just dying.
He did have to dope me up a little. I was awake the whole time because you know I wasn't about to let him put me completely under. I had on a short skirt (It's 83 in DC today) so I wasn't 'bout to let him have too much easy access. My damn thigh will not be sticky! No panties slid to the side over here! I did kind of panic because when he took the tooth out, I guess there was a lot of blood and the little nurse lady gave me kind of a worried look. Now why did she do that? My paranoid ass was already sliding out the chair. They went through a couple of packs of gauze all while trying to assure me "everything was ok". In the end I needed three stitches in my mouth as well. And the tooth...Ewww. I was like "Throw That B*tch away". I thought I was laughing at how long Joanie's (ANTM) snaggle tooth was...My sh*t looked like a damn Elephant Tusk compared to hers...And this was a damn molar!
I was also a little pissed on how they had all those damn instruments in my mouth. I asked the nurse was all those really necessary? I mean damn I ain't used to having all that in my mouth ;-) The drool swallower, suction thingie, a drill, forceps, the thing they use to look at the tooth, a pick, random fingers and what have yous. I'm glad my damn mouth was numb.
I still have to go back in 10 days to get the sutures out and another extraction. My back teeth were all jacked up. This is what I get for waiting so long to hit the dentist. My mouth was numb for like 5 hours and I was mad that although you couldn't tell that I had some work done until I talked, I had a Bubba from Forrest Gump thing going on. *shrug* At least I had "Angelina Jolie" lips for a couple of hours due to the Novocain. Never mind I sounded like "Lil' Darryl" for a few hours. I also got some drugs for when the anesthesia wears off with explicit directions not to take more than 3 of the 800mg Motrins in one day. Umm yeah, I'm like a prescription drug junkie. Known for not following directions, I'd be one of those folks addicted to Valium or something because I decided to up my dosage because I needed a little more "pep". I will follow the directions as I am in the crib by myself. Don't want to overdose with a crazy cat in the apartment.
I did meet a cute guy walking from the dentist. We talked on the phone for a little while. Don't worry...I wasn't flirting. I was self conscious because I sounded weird and I felt my cheek blowing up. Besides I had a little white crust that the heifer forgot to wipe from my mouth. Yeah he made sure he pointed that out so you know my cheek numb so I'm wiping everything but the damn crust. ARRGGG.
I don't know what I'm going to do with so much unsupervised-boyfriend free weeks. I guess go out with some friends, explore a little bit more of the area, get a few more driving lessons in, throw out the sh*t on his side of the closet that was due to hit the Salvation Army years ago, and shop. I'm going home next week (maybe) to visit the family. And work of course. I do, however, plan on being a good girl. No dinners. No dates. Now what will bother me is the lack of sex. I need it at least 3 times a week to function properly. **sigh** I see lots of nights with the pillow in-between my legs ahead. A few (intentional) cold showers. Damn high sex drive!
Hey, I am a good girl 95% of the time. Any suggestions on how to quench what I'm sure will be 3 weeks of boredom?
This will probably be a short post (for now). So to all my loyal readers: No scrolling way the f*ck down today!
1) The BF is out of town for the next three weeks. And yes I plan on behaving. Hello, misbehaving is how I got my stalker now. He left early this morning so it's just me and the crazy cat for a few weeks. A sista is missing her boo-noplious. I'm not a crier but a sista was tearing up as he left.
2) Duh Duh Dunnnn...Dentist appointment today at 11:45. Gotta make sure I keep my smile tight. Wish me luck because I am petrified. Notice the picture. Yeah, that screams "home-schooling" right? I need to print this out and take this in with me to let him know that umm I don't want that type of grill. Hell, I have insurance!
3) Maintenance finally got around to fixing my shower. They came at like 4 pm and water is still leaking on my floor from somewhere but at least I got a full spray of water (and not a damn trickle like before) and the water pressure seems way better. Nothing will stun the sh*t out of you more than when the water goes from lukewarm to scalding hot to freezing and then back to lukewarm. Had me playing double-dutch in the shower. (Ladies and maybe some gentlemen) you know what I'm talking about. When you used to do the little bob thing, waiting for the right moment to hop in and get your "Mompos One, Papos Two, All Around Three, Tic Tac Four" on. Stepping on the rope talking about "Zero No Highest".
Don't worry, my ramblings will continue later on today. I gotta tell ya about the friend who if he wasn't a friend would be more than a friend. He Face Booked me too?! Lawd, I might need an intervention.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Ok, so why did I totally have the wrong time written down for that job interview? Yes, like an idiot I'd written down 4 pm when it was 10 am. How the f*ck do you mix up times like that? That is so f*cking bad. I mean I called and explained the situation and the employer seemed really cool but um yeah I think it may be safe to say I probably will not get this job. I mean hello if I'm late for a job interview, that probably shows as a glimpse of what she will be getting into by hiring me. Hell I stereotype. Knowing her, I probably got "CP Time" written all over my resume. And the craziest thing is I am almost never running on CP Time. I actually like being on time for things. I hate going to the movies late. Not late as in "movie's already started" late but "previews are showing" late. If a movie starts at 10:30 and I get there at 10:45 I would wait for the next showing. Yeah, I'm weird like that. My mother (and her all knowing wisdom) says it's because I'm nosy as hell and I hate to miss anything. Which is (semi) true. I am nosy but I ain't "Pearl from 227 all up in the window every time a car goes by" nosy. I know how to mind my own damn business when needs be. Especially if weapons are involved. I am not Captain Save A Hoe!
So I have a new interview set for Friday afternoon. This time I wrote it down correctly. 2 pm. 2 pm. 2 pm. At least I check my blog daily (because I'm a comment box whore) and I'm checking for misspelled words and crazy sentence structure that I missed while double checking my post. I hate that little spell check thing. Bootleg as hell. Can't sound out a word worth sh*t. And there's hella words that should be in its direct data-base but isn't. Damn at least Microsoft Word is on point. They keep up with all the new slang words because you know Black Folks we all spell slang words quite differently than other Black Folks. One of these days I'm going to make a Ghetto version of Microsoft Word and sell it to Bill Gates. Then I will be laced in finest of Gucci and Gold. So now I just type out my entry on the blog (because I can't remember what I want to highlight or italicize and it won't transfer over from Microsoft Word), use its spell check, and then repost it on the blog.
Commenters (the few that's not shy): Don't think I don't get your replies. I'm just wacky. I go to your page and leave a reply (often completely unrelated to the subject as the commenter can attest) plus it gives me another excuse to hit up your page because well they're addictive. I even got a few friends at work reading them because they always want to know what's so funny. Although I love the way yall comment back on your page. And your subjects? Well they keep me informed and well give me ideas. I wake up with one idea, see a posting, and do an about face, and then come back to the original idea a couple of days later.
Of course there are haters. I haven't gotten any yet and depending on how bad they talk about me, I don't plan on erasing any of the posts. Just don't come on here talking "Tom Cruise" crazy, ok? BTW--Have he always been that damn crazy? No seriously. Is he having a mid-life crisis or something? Is it drugs? Someone please plan an intervention or something because I think TC has lost it. I thought he was cute ever since he was in Interview With A Vampire (An All Time Favorite of Mine) with my "White Boy" Husband Brad Pitt (I'm Still Here Waiting Boo....) but now...He's got that deranged look in his eye sometimes. *shrugs* I don't know. Maybe it's the gossip that Katie's not really pregnant, Alien babies, and the constant jokes about his "religion" that's driving him nuts. *shrugs* Shoulda just remained a crazy ass Catholic to me. Hell have he never visited a Baptist Church? Let the Holy Ghost get a hold of his ass, he'll be straight.
I love my blogs. They save me money. No more Us Weekly, Star, and InTouch magazines because the pure comedy is on the blogs. Sometimes I feel sorry for the stars, other times I don't. I think the paparazzi are punks sometimes. I mean they have never caught a star eating a booger, digging they drawls out they butt...nothing? Hell I would pay for some sh*t like that. Who cares about them eating, walking down the street, shopping, or not having on any make-up? But get me a shot of Jamie Foxx tripping and busting his ass on the sidewalk? Priceless funny. I guess the paparazzi knows not to f*ck with Black celebs. Can you picture the paparazzi surrounding T.I.'s car when he leaves the club? F*ck around and get they ass shot the f*ck up. Can you picture them trying to snap pics of rappers' legitimate (and illegitimate) children? Sh*t they'd get that ass busted up all in front of the chillens.
I think, though, some people are a little too obsessed with the stars. I mean do I really give two sh*ts about Jennifer Anniston's hair? Did I cry when she and Brad broke up? Hell naw! I did, however, read all the details. I don't try to dress like them nor do I care "who" they're wearing. Hell I can't afford it! The only way I'm getting a Vera Wang or a Prada dress is if they selling them at TJ Maxx or Marshalls. On the clearance rack. I splurge but I wish I would pay $5000 for something I technically have to wear once. Sh*t a $5000 dress would be worn to everything from the Backyard Barbeque to the annual Church Fashion Show. Hell I would cut that b*tch up Marge Simpson style and make new outfits House of Dereon style. What you know about that?
Let me stop tripping. I’m on D-Listed and Pink Is The New Blog Everyday. Hell I'm Crunk and Disorderly and Concrete Loop every 10 minutes. Pure Comedy at work. Someone needs to make a magazine like that. Be the best selling magazine since Time (Is Time the best selling magazine? I don't know. Correct Me If I'm Wrong. Maybe it's National Geographic. Lawd knows my grandmother got me a subscription when I was 10. Um yeah don't ask no question).
Coming Soon...A Pic
Peter: Why did the dinosaurs die out?
Man: Because you touch yourself at night...
^^^Damn I did not expect that to still be that damn funny! I love Family Guy!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
So I'm on one of the daily blogs
Yeah...You know where my ass is going. Don't even have to ramble too much. Everyone has a bad "Black Business" story the same way everyone got that one drunken uncle/aunt who cuts up at all the family events. Doing the "Good Foot" while sipping on Ripple talking' about: (to the embarrassment of you who have probably brought over a significant other to his/her first "[insert your last name] Family Event") Yall don't know nuffin' 'bout this while trying to James Brown Slide or Bus Stop their way across the room.
Don't front like yall ain't got that relative in your family! I know I am not the only one! Asking the significant other personal questions and what not while you try to fight through the crowd to rescue them from said relative. You drive all home all silent only to blurt out right before they get out the car how "sorry" you are and how that relative "doesn't act like that all the time" (knowing you lying. They act like that all the time...Remember Big Mama's funeral?)
Now don't get my wrong, I support Black Business. I try to scout out a Black Business where ever I go. Hell I live in Arlington, VA yet I'm in District Heights, MD or NE/SE DC getting my hair and nails done. Yeah...Arlington is about as White/Mexican as they come. At least in my neighborhood. I've been to the Beauty/Nail/Chicken Shack/Auto Parts/Church (on Sundays)/Car Wash joints around the way. I mean kinda genius when you think about it. You mean I can get an oil change, a touch-up, and a fill-in plus praise the Lawd (On Sundays) while eating a Catfish dinner? Getthafuccouttahere! But businesses like that are notoriously slow and nine times out ten sh*tty as hell. You know you gotta back...Nine times outta ten with some Vaseline and your hair braided back because you know you’re going to have to scrap to get a refund.
Now I told everyone how I left the beautician who has been doing my hair since I moved to DC because I felt she was overcharging me. Do you know how hard it is to find a new beautician who can do your hair just right? She hooked my 'do up but I refuse to believe that a simple roller wrap is $65-70. I mean it's not like I'm using Beyonce stylist or anything. And looking at some of her weaves, she shouldn't be using that person either. I understand my hair is thick and long. But charging me because of it? Umm isn't that your job? To do hair? And it's not like I'm getting a relaxer or touch-up with it. I'm sorry I've had a few bad experience with shops doing my relaxer so I rather spend $7.99 (Damn relaxers went up. Remember when they were like $5) on a Dark and Lovely and do it myself. It comes out better (IMO) and it lasts longer.
So I basically had to "fire her". I got my braids and took them bad boys out and since I have to wait a couple of weeks to relax my tresses, I was in the search of a new shop to get my butters whipped. No success. Like I said, in my neighborhood, there's only the upscale beauty salons that must be on a side of stupid if they think I'm going to pay $80 for a simple trim and the discount hair cuttery places which of course is a Hell To The Naw! White girls can not cut my hair anymore after the last time I was stupid enough to let get in my hair. That story is another post though.
So my boyfriend tells me a Black girl in his class gets her hair done around her way in District Heights, MD. That name just sounds hood but desperate times call for desperate measures. Usually I gotta scout out a neighborhood or whatnot because I ain't trying to go get my hair done during Drive-By Week. A little skeptical because I've never met the girl and although my boyfriend claims her hair looks tight all the time this is coming from the same guy who suggested I get a "T-Boz circa 1992" haircut in 2005. But I take a chance because I'm desperate and the puff puff ponytail makes me a potential R. Kelly victim. I get an appointment after being placed on ghetto hold for like 10 minutes meaning they just put the phone down and started hollering who's available on Thursday all while I hear everyone and they mama's conversation in the background. Apparently some girl who gets her hair done in the salon is messing with one of the beautician's baby daddy and she's going to "whoop that trick" the next time she come in to get her nails did. Yeah you know I was ear hustling all the way.
Now don't get me wrong. The shop was neat, had an amazing decor, and semi-profession. Sure the owners were getting a pedicure while talking on the "shop" phone to her mama. And sure the Oils/Dinners/CDs/DVDs/Sunglasses man was on first name basis with a lot of the clients/beauticians. Sure the woman that was doing my hair had like 5 people in front of me and I was waiting for an hour just to get in her seat. Ok and sure the "shampoo girl" was chewing gum and talking on her Bluetooth while washing hair. But other than that...The shop was straight.
Until I got the nail salon part of the shop.
I mean every single ghetto concoctions you can place on a nail were displayed. Not only did they not have a proper pedicure spa, they did not clean the Wal-Mart $19.99 foot spa (I own one) they did have. And they only had 2. With 6 six stations. So folks were just passing it around the shop like candy. I've never seen so much glitter in my life. Every nail or toe that left that part had some part of glitter crust on it. Every color of the rainbow was on full display. Every design you can think of was there as well. Now there was some talent. Who else could paint a Reese Cup logo (complete with glitter) on a nail? Who else could place acrylic on a toe and shape it to resemble raptor's claws? Ok Ok the woman's feet already looked like an extra from Jurassic Park and I was mad at the acrylic toes. I was mad at the fact that she wanted them as long as she could get so her toe nails (not the actual toes) were hanging over her flip flops. I was mad the nail stylist suggested it! So imagine how my little French Pedicure went up against that type of competition. They were looking at my feet in amazement. Like I invented the simple white stripe going over the toe nails. One color? Only one? Getthafuccouttahere!
Then came the Black Business part. Some girl come in and starts hollering she doesn’t like her nails. That was not the colors she wanted blah blah blah. The girl that did them apparently was just looking at her. So they get into it because apparently messed-up nail girl did not like that attitude radiating from nail stylist. Nail stylist basically states "No Re-Fund". So messed up nail girl start to cussing up a storm. Nail Stylists said this basically:
"Bitch (yes she called ol' girl a bitch. No ma'am here I guess) if you didn't like your nails you shoulda said sumthin' then. Don't be coming back up in my establishment a week later talkin' garbage. You better gone somewhere wit that noise. I said No Re-Fund. Fuck You and them nails."
And kicked ol' girl out. And just to make sure any body else wanted to complain about their nails, she let it be known it would be no refunds up in here.
So I'm eating some ribs (yeah I broke down and bought some from the guy. I mean I had been there for two hours already and had yet to get in the chair) just rolling. Then the owner made the announcement that the credit card machine was down and they could only accept cash only. Only two folks left to go the ATM. Apparently it breaks down every week so people just bring cash. One beautician got mad because the woman's hair she just finished did not leave a tip. You know she followed ol' girl out the salon to the parking lot and demanded a tip? Why did the woman who did my hair have the tackiest weave in her hair (Why is it most stylists hair look like hot sh*t warmed over anyways?) but did the best hair in the shop? Why did she make me walk to the corner store to get change for a $20 because she didn't have any? Yeah there were no cash registers, price listings, or anything. You basically had to ask how much sh*t cost before you sat down. Someone found that out the hard way when she didn't have enough to pay for her daughter's straw set. I was nervous letting her do my hair considering that weave which looked like the picture in the top corner. Hair stylist is another profession that I expect perfection. She did hook my hair up though.
Of course no business cards. Just scraps of paper. And um yeah you gotta call for business hours because they change weekly. And they make it clear no kids can be in the salon so I was warned that if I come in with a kid, they won't do my hair. And the air conditioner was broke, so mix that with temperature outside that day (It was like 75 degrees) with the heat from the dryers, curlers, flat irons, nail drills and just the general heat hella Black people generate when in confined spaces, so it was set on "Hell During a Heat wave".
I love my Black Businesses but some need to just do better. My story isn't as bad as L's Car Story but I'm sure the more I go in, that will all change.
Does anyone else have a funny/bad/angry Black Business
Monday, April 17, 2006
Two things: I am feeling much better today. I am still a little under the weather but I feel way better than yesterday, I also have a dentist appointment Thursday afternoon. Pray for me yall. I am terrified of dentists (along with my fear of insects, flying, and heights). Along with the fear that they will accidentally yank out the wrong tooth or drill a hole in my tongue because they're always talking to you while your mouth is propped open and like an idiot I always reply to their questions while they're just drilling away (Why the hell do they do that anyway?) and since I'm numb from the Novacain I won't notice until the blood start spurting over the blue bib and then I'd die from shock or something. *sigh* Overactive imagination at work sure but the dentist creeps me out too. I think I've seen one too many horror movie with the focus on a dentist or something. Besides I might have to "go under" for this procedure and something about being knocked out in a male dentist's office give me the chills. Wake up damn thighs a little sticky and sh*t. Popping out a little bi-racial baby in 9 months, swearing up and down I don't know how the baby got blue eyes and sh*t. I don't even like having a male doctor. It's something about a male doctor being all up in your vagina asking you about the weather that have me skating for the door. Plus I'm paranoid after seeing "The Hand That Rocks The Cradle" and the freaky doctor who was getting his rocks off with ol' girl. I better see a glove on that damn finger and don't be wiggling around up in there either. Knowing damn well that ain't the cervix! And lawd don't let me see the dentist's own grill is messed up...I'm walking straight out. There are some professions that I just expect perfection and the dentist is just one of them. You can't fix my grill when your own teeth looks like shark's teeth. Mouth looking like you got bust in the mouth with a bag of quarters. Un Uh. No way. That's gross.
Second thing: My stalker did not appear this weekend. He called but he did not stop by my job. I think he went back home *drops to knees and pray he went home* Whew...Tenacious was on the verge of joining Witness Protection. Like, I said I think I attract crazies or something. He called but I was at work so I didn't pick up. His text (after the 5th time of not getting an answer) simply said: I miss you. *shudder* If he act like that from a dance, imagine if he actually got the booty *shudder again* I would probably still be tied to the bed, gnawing off my arm or something because you know he would have tied my ass up so I couldn't make my escape. Be screaming and sh*t while he's caressing my face, smiling eerily while tracing his initials on my stomach with my blood or something. *lol* Overactive imagination at work people. There are crazy Black People out there. I was in denial for a long time, like "Only White People Do That Sh*t" but after the DC Sniper and a few random serial/family killings committed by Black Folks..I don't know yall. Like my grandma says, "The End Of Days Is Coming". Especially after the DC Sniper thing. I was still in Illinois at the time and I was convinced they asses were White. For months, I was denial. I was like, "Naw he just got a tan...His mama must be White...He got that Jewish afro...He ain't really Jamaican" anything but Black. They should be N*gga-Slapped. But after encounters with a few stalkers, I am sure that Black People are starting to lose the left side of their mind. I hope dude finds his so he can leave me the hell alone.
Why, Oh, Why, was I blessed with this body?
One of these days, I'm going to stop hiding behind the computer and actually post up a picture. I have too many saved to this computer but I'm too lazy to pick one. Besides, people I know might be reading this blog and try to put me on blast in the comment section *lol* Wait who am I kidding? They asses stay on Facebook and My Space. But you never know...I have hella pictures on FB and some of the strangest sh*t get linked on Google Images. I'm probably on there now.
Like when me and my girls dressed up like Destiny's Child for Halloween Sophomore year. Our inspiration? The Ghetto yellow outfits they had on in Bootylicious. Blond weave, gold toothfus and all. *lol* I'm sure that pic is circulating around on the internet. Probably on hotghettomess.com We went to some party and boy were we a hit. Of course it was like 6 of us so we were like DC with all the girls who have been a part of DC. I was Kelly yall but I had the Beyonce weave, gold toothfus, and dookie chains. We even put on a performance because we loved that video hence the inspiration. We had the little dance down and everything. Ok we were a little offbeat and we had to kick one friend to the curb (DC style) because she was laughing too hard. We were a hit. Never mind it was like 40 degrees out in central Illinois at the end of October and we were scantily clad hoochie mamas...Time of our life! And we got hella candy. Got sick off of sad candy and spent the day piled 6 to a twin size bed all moaning and groaning. Yeah...You would be surprised on how many people we could fit on a dorm's twin size mattress and everyone ends up comfortable. That, my friend, is a skill in itself. Hell my house was "chill" central and I always had at least 6 people sleeping in my king size bed (I'm a bed hog so I need a big bed). In college, sh*t I would sleep at my Kappa brother's apartment and it would be at least 8 of us in the bed (no sex yall Get out the gutter). He had the best sheets and comforter in the world. He had $300 Egyptian wool type of sheets/comforter and oh lawd we fought to sleep in his bed. Of course his little random broads weren't pleased but he wasn't even thinking of us in that way *to our insult* Sure we felt the morning poke but sh*t wasn't popping off. Besides he treated my girls and I like little sisters. He would get us noggies, fart and belch in front of us hell on us, scratch his crotch, eat up all our damn food, wrestle with us and beat a n*gga ass if they looked too long in our direction. At first he didn't like my boyfriend but when they became Kappa brothers, they got cool and he would begin to send me home after 11 pm so I can be with my boyfriend. Me and him couldn't sleep in the bed together though...You guessed it...BED HOGS!
*sigh* I miss his crazy self. He lives in the ATL now. Doing big things in the medical field.
*sigh* Today, a year ago, I lost two close friends to a tragic car accident. I've been in a funk all day. Just sad and a little emotional. Crying and sh*t. I miss them so much but I know they're in a better place. But it's weird you know. I still expect a phone call from them or a little smart remark or something. They were also like my big brothers. Full of life and just so damn optimistic. Always in a good mood and quick to offer a kind word or a funny story. *pours out some 'Yak* I miss you Mike and Ramadan.
Work was actually amusing. We're having a war between two of the managers. A new cute girl start working there and I'm trying to hook up one of the managers with her but the other is such a booty hound and got her in her scope so we're playing (unknown to her) Tug Of War with who gets to get her. I'm on "Team R" and my friend is on "Team D". So far, I got the upperhand. "R" and her went to lunch together due to my prying and the fact that "D" didn't come in until 2 pm. So root for "Team R"!
I have a job interview tomorrow. Wish me luck! It's for an Admissions Coordinator for the Art Institute of Washington, DC.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
My four Years at the University of Illinois were some of the greatest times of my life. I came in as a slightly immature 18 year old, left as a slightly mature 22 year old. Originally I planned to go to Xavier but I opted out. Why? I thought I would get homesick. *shrugs* The dumb ass justifications of an 18 year old whose mother let her pick her own school. I graduated top of my high school class (not a hard thing when you come from an inner city high school where half of the class was either pregnant or left behind) and I was accepted to every single college I applied for. Funny story: I got drunk the night before I was suppose to take my ACT so of course when I stumbled in the house smelling like E&J and Cranberry Juice with less than 2 hours before I was suppose to be at the testing center, my mother steered my ass right into the shower and right back out the door. I barely made it there with time to spare and I was done with every section in 20 minutes so I can sleep off my hangover. I got a 24 overall with a 30 in Reading/Comp. My counselor was surprised. After all, who finishes a test without really reading the questions, falls asleep, have to be woken up by people around me, and still do relatively well on a test? *shrugs* That of course did not translate over to college of course.
My room mate was a Chinese girl my first semester. Either b*tch was scared of me or she was just into her boyfriend because she never stayed in our room. Never. I saw her a total of 3 times my first semester. Of course I was in my best friend’s dorm room across campus 99% of the time so I was never in the dorm either but I rarely saw her. And she was the first Asian girl I’ve seen dressed like the girls who are with Gwen Stefani. Like that mismatched, crazily expensive crap some Asians tend to wear.
I was an alkie my freshman and sophomore year. I drank from Wednesday to Sunday. No lie. I was notorious for passing out on the bus and/or car. Trust, there are pictures to back up the claim. I still have the bruises from random trips and falls. Like when I went to a Que party, tried to Juke Slide and tripped and fell. Got up and tripped over my stiletto heels that I took off. Or when I was at the Kappa House and I got wasted and was walking down the street (and at the time they lived on a dark ass street that I was scared to walk down alone but you know being drunk make you fearless) and my friends found me half sleep next to a mailbox. You know they ignant asses propped my ass up and had me draped over the mailbox King Magazine style. Or when I would go to McKinley for doctor’s notes, faking symptoms, because I got drunk the night before and missed class. I was the “sickly girl” the whole semester. How I got through the first two years is still a miracle to me considering the party animal that I was.
I met my boyfriend at college and we got together in February of 2002. I had to dump all my potentials at the time because I felt something was there with me and him. At the time I was juggling three guys but only sleeping with one. He was cool and lawd could he work wonders with the tongue but he was too needy. Too possessive. And he had the nerve to accuse me of being an alkie and having anger issues (he was a psych major). Ok ok partly true but he didn’t have to put me on blast like that. I get into a couple of bar brawls and I have anger management issues. Yes, your truly, has gotten tossed out of a few campus bars. Mainly for underage drinking but some for arguing with the bartender (F*ck you mean I only can have two drinks?), random conflicts (people love to wait until you’re drunk to tell you some f*cked up sh*t), a fight or two (he shouldn’t have grabbed my ass under my skirt), and sometimes just because my friends and I were bored and we wanted the excuse to scream, “Well f*ck this place…It wasn’t that hot anyway. I’ve been thrown out of better establishments!”
Ahh the college days.
I admit I had the “Black” version of fun and the “White” version of fun. I kicked it with both sides of the fence but not when my white girl friends were depressed because I don’t do well with the “White Girl Crying Over Everything In The World” thing they tend to do. I did the Karaoke bars, tore up some Prince, Britney, Smashing Pumpkins (don’t ask) in the process. Drunk a beer or two (I have you know I drinks the finest of Bacardi). Danced on a few tables Paris Hilton style. I even went to the White Frat Houses and had a good time. But you know I had to cut out there because um yeah White folks are wild when they are drunk. Like tearing up sh*t, kissing each other (I wish a b*tch would…I ain’t never that drunk), swerving in and out of traffic, hanging off trees and signs, and just get f*cked up…yet they manage to make it home 8 blocks away safely.
I did the Black folk thing. Get crunk at Black Frat Parties. Drink their random “specialty” drinks that sneaks up on you and get you f*cked up. Get into it with random people and lawd don’t step on my brand new shoes….Post up outside parties with my girls looking too fresh and clean, waiting for the party to end to “parking lot pimp”. Get drunk before, during, and after the party. Play spades or poker. Chill out at someone’s house. I even smoked a little weed yall. Yes 3 times in college but lawd I learned weed is not my friend. I get the giggles and can’t stop. I laugh so much I start crying so um yeah the weed was not passed to the left when I was around.
I never did the sorority thing although sometimes I wish I had. I had friends who were in all the Black Frats and Sororities but it wasn’t for me. I don’t know why but I didn’t have that intense interest. It was hot and cold with me. Sometimes I was into it and other times I wasn’t. Besides I was already seen as “too wild and crazy” for some of the sororities so I gave up. My best friend is a Sigma and people swore we went together for the longest. I mean we were messing around before I got with my boyfriend and he did sleep with half of the campus and he was known for scraping my drunken ass off the ground and making sure I got home safe (and clothes intact) but nah. I did, however, get into all Sigma parties free. As with the Kappas, Alphas, and Iotas. Sorry, I avoided Ques like the plague after my debut at their party. Plus it was a Que with enormous teeth who just scared the sh*t out of me so I kinda strayed from the Que house. I don’t remember paying to get into a lot of parties but I never complained when I did.
I calmed down my drinking after my “incident” with one of my stalkers. I can’t stand his ass. He called me the other day talking bout how come I ran out of McDonalds that day. Uggg. Gin will make you sin. I am thankful no one ever took advantage of me in my drunken state (ok well one did…Bastard in question) and I have good people in my circle who wouldn’t just leave me. Ok same friends also convinced me that Jell-O Shots did not count as an alcoholic beverage but still…Good friends are hard to find.
My best friend who I moved in with 2nd semester of my freshman year after her crazy roommate (and my other ex best friend) dropped out and I got tired of just living in her room and decided to make it official. I mean people thought I lived in her dorm anyway. A rumor even went around that I was a hoe because people would peep me leaving at like 2 am every night, assuming I’m dipping off to some dude’s room when I was really trudging back to my real dorm room because my books for class were there as well as most of my clothes. Yeah guys, I got plagued with the “hoe” stamp for a while but it faded because 1) I am not a hoe. 2) I am not a hoe. 3) If a person approached me like I was a hoe, I treated them like they were a hoe. Of course I got a few notches on my belt that I would deny in a heartbeat but I’m honest. If we slept together, we slept together. If it was good, it was good. If not, then well, you know I told my girls. You also did not get a phone call for a repeat performance I can tell you that. I hate men who lie on their d*cks basically. I mean some of the sh*t I heard about me was hilarious and I had no problems laughing it off. I was more amused that some guys took the liberty to pump up a non-existant love affair and then blubber like an idiot when confronted. And this was when I had a boyfriend. Sure he was online at the time (he’s a Kappa) and you know that means he virtually disappeared from campus but the sh*t I heard was just ridiculous. Just don’t do it fella. It makes you look dumb and desperate. I think a guy or two was mad because I didn’t do the whole “sweating you” thing. Like I didn’t call you afterwards and I would kinda play you to the left afterwards. My rules are this: I make the rules. I decide booty calls hours and whether or not I want another round. I call you only when I want something. It’s sex not marriage. Don’t get it twisted. Otherwise…Have a great day.
We had too much fun. We never had a fight or argument. We were known for our pizza fetish. We would lock each other out the room on random times which meant someone (usually me) would have to make the “walk of shame” downstairs in my bath towel to get a key for my room. Yeah..Embarassing times there. We once got drunk and fell off the bunk beds. She had a boyfriend who I couldn’t stand and nothing mad me prouder than when she would braid his little stubby hair and I would mention how he need some “Hair Gro” because his hair stayed the same length the entire four years they were together. Our homemade beauty salon/bakery. We were always baking something and playing in people’s hair. We forever had Red Kool-Aid and Doritos in the room. Our addiction to AIM, Collegeclub and Blackplanet. I still go on BP every once and awhile. Still bootleg as hell. Our fake all-nighters that lasted until 1 or 2 am. We would then set the alarm to 5 am and try to finish up the last 6 pages of a paper before the class began at 10 am often running out the door at the last minute in PJs to deliver the paper. We lived in PJs when it got warm (an influence from our White friends. You know Black folks had to be pressed, clean, and proper to step out the door) and I lived in my Doo-Rag and Hello Kitty Capri short set and flip flops. The times we would drag ourselves to breakfast, lunch and dinner and roll back in the bed, rolling out of bed to get dressed to do some damage on campus. I gained, lost, and regained my freshman 15. I came in college weighing 100 lbs and I graduated weighing in at 128…ish. *lol* Doesn’t seem like a lot but it was a struggle to gain that weight.
Got first apartment with my K-Sweets Junior Year. Realized I would go mad living with them. *lol* I was like a maid, constantly cleaning up and nagging at they asses all the time. We did have a raw ass apartment though. I hated that my room was closest to the kitchen (let me stop lying…They heard me in the cabinets every night) but of course anyone who came in had to pass the kitchen to go where ever in the apartment. My girl had some little thuggish friends so I constantly had to come out and tell them to shut the f*ck up. No one wants to hear their “Get Rich Or Die Trying” stories at 4 am. Crib smelling like weed and Hennessy. Then some major drama went down (one of my roommates was stealing our rent/bill money and was about to get us evicted…Long story yall) so I got my own apartment Senior Year because of that. I had calmed down tremendously by then. I was like a homebody. I focused more on school. I still got wasted but only on Saturdays. Then after graduation I moved to DC with my boyfriend.
It’s really too many college stories to break down to their entirety so Ima work them into postings and stuff but oh I loved my college years! I wouldn’t change anything (maybe my grades and major) ! Does anyone out there have college stories? I wanna hear!!!
Guys, I'm sick. I don't know what I caught from my germy friends and/or co-workers but I feel like I have Ebola, West Nile and Tuberculosis all rolled into one. I hate being sick because all I do is sleep and hug the toilet. I also hate being sick because the first thing people assume is pregnancy. I ain't pregnant!! Just sick. So pray for me yall.
I was scheduled to work until 5:30 pm but I didn't make it to 10 am. I was throwing up all over the place so I was sent home.
Remember phone stalker? He is now officially a stalker! Isn't that sad? Damn I must attract crazies or something. Now after this fool cursed me out via text for not answering his 15 phones calls, he called me the next day. After 9 pm so I picked up to curse his ass out. After all, did I not tell him to lose my number? He called and starts apologizing and wanted a second chance.
He got a "Hell to the Naw" and the dial tone. Besides he actually lives in New Jersey. Umm yeah. No go. Besides he starting talking a little...weird to me. Like I was The One or something. Although I am a compliment whore and will fish all the compliments I can out your ass, he gave me too many compliments. Now I can appreciate if I look all bogus yet you still compliment me (even though I think you're full of it) but he took it too far.
Him: I liked how your hair was full and puffy.
^^^Yeah after the club those are called Naps! And I had braids in my hair! So any full and puffiness you've seen was called "new growth". And I would appreciate if you would not point out that fact.
Him: Your face was just shiny, like glazed chocolate. I felt like an angel was in my presence.
^^^Yeah that was called sweat. I already hate sweating so this did not have the "awww" effect you were going for. I mean hey that was a cute little try but umm no. And you called me "glazed chocolate". Have you seen a glazed chocolate doughnut? Looks ashy as hell in comparison to the plain one. So...you were basically calling me ashy. And that's sexy?
He said some more foolishness but I started getting irritated because I was watching TV and he was distracting me. So I had to basically cut him off. Told him it was nothing personal but I don't think we have a lot of common and besides it wouldn't work out between us. I even went back to one of my high school lines (which I got from my best male friend when he was trying to get rid of a pesky girl) : Baby it's not you. It's me. I am a dog. I probably will cheat on you, lie to you, and just break your heart. You deserve better. And I can't be that woman you want right now...
Or something along that line. Of course this didn't work as I guess he felt he could change my "dogish" ways and turn a bad girl good. Doesn't he know this doesn't happen?
Next thing you know, this fool popped up at my job. Yes yall...my job. So I'm on lunch Monday and they send someone to find me because my "boyfriend" is looking for me. Thinking they are talking about my real boyfriend, I hurry up back to the hotel. He doesn't come up to my job so I'm thinking the worst as I'm running back to the hotel. I'm starting to get myself upset, thinking something has happened in the family. Don't play with me when it comes to family. So I get in the lobby, huffing and puffing, and I don't see him. So I ask where is he and they point to a guy on the couch.
Instantly my hairs on my neck stand up. Sure I told him I worked at the Marriott but I never told him which one. In fact, I never even told him my last name. So he gets up just the cheesing. Smile as big as the void where my stomach dropped. So I'm just rooted to the spot because I'm just stunned. So you know my co-workers (unaware that they could possibly be victims to a massacre) are just the cooing and cheesing, like "Aw isn't that sweet? Tenacious' man dropped by girl and with flowers. I wish my man would do that".
^^^All Black men don't look alike and I'm mad because these co-workers have seen my boyfriend and him and stalker looks nothing alike. Hell my boyfriend and I went out for drinks with these co-workers. My boyfriend is brown skinned, tall, and with a short afro (that I have been begging him to cut off). Stalker is dark, about 5'8'' and bald.
So before I can tell them that this ain't my man, he whips out the flowers they were talking about. Nice roses but he didn't get the memo that I have a Black Thumb in flowers. I can't even grow a Chia-Pet let alone keep some cut flowers alive for more than a day or two. So he's holding out the flowers, I'm screaming inside, and everyone in the lobby has stopped to look at us.
So I finally find my voice because his appearance has basically slapped the sh*t outta me. I guess he sees that I'm not thrilled and try to steer me to a chair so we can talk (yeah in front, I definitely wasn't going around the corner with him). He starts babbling on how he spent all day calling all the Marriotts in the DC/Maryland/VA area to see which one I worked at. Lo and behold on like the 20th try, he struck gold. So he decided to surprise me with the flowers because he knew I wasn't serious when I was talking about not seeing him and how he understands how scared one can get when they get to know a new person and don't understand the feelings that emerge. So he came to let me know he was serious about me and I don't have to be afraid because he'll be there "guiding" me the rest of the way...together.
I got the slack jaw still going on because I am just....Hell I still don't have a word for what I was feeling. I was mad that Marriott volunteers info just like that to anyone who calls. Hello? Have they not heard of stalkers, restraining orders, new identities, etc? Don't be just advertising where the hell I work to anyone, ok? I was mad that he took the time to call damn near every Marriott in the area to find my ass. I am mad there wasn't anyone else with my first name working for Marriott. Times like these I wish my name were Jennifer. Everyone has someone that work with them named Jennifer. I'm mad that I told him I worked for the Marriott. And I am too mad that I was sitting there just listening to him rambling on which encouraged him to ramble on some more. Hell I'm mad that I left half a meatball sandwich at Subway. For his ass.
So I cut him off in the middle of his ramblings to basically ask him have he lost the left side of his f*cking mind? I mean seriously did he lose it because we can look for it together? WTF possessed you to hunt me down at work to talk about our non-existence of a relationship? I was dead ass serious. Besides I guess you didn't get the "I have a boyfriend" memo?
^^^This is why I definitely have to cut my flirting short. Yet another reason as to why I need to keep my smile and words to myself.
This fool brushes me off. Brushes me off yall. He's basically like I know you got a man but I'm your new man so get rid of him. I laughed. Laughed long and hard. So after I just read him for like 10 minutes, I get up and tell him I'm going back to work and don't he ever, ever, ever show his damn face around my job or I'm going to have to have security escort his ass out the hotel. I leave the damn flowers right there because I am not trying to encourage him. This nut looks at me and say "I'll see you later", like he never heard one word I just said.
I storm off. Of course some heff come up to me and hand me the flowers. I throw them b*tches in the garbage. So now it's "lover's spat" being whispered around the office. I finally have to whip a picture of my boyfriend out and explain the difference. Now it's "lover's triangle". *sigh* I should have just left it alone.
He calls me throughout the day. I hang up. I get off of work and I step outside. There he is. Now I ain't stupid. I'm not going to let him follow me home so I basically flip. I'm not at work so I can get as loud and ghetto as I want and of course I do. I curse his ass out. I call him sh*t that don't even exist. He gets angry and yells at me. So we're just two fools yelling at each other on the corner. He calls me a "fucking bitch". I call him a "stalker". So after the 10th "Leave me the f*ck alone" I walk off.
He calls me on my cell 20 minutes later. Nice little voicemail. He's sorry and he doesn't want to scare me off so he's willing to do whatever. He's not even going to catch his flight home until he knows everything is straight with us. There is no us!
So he plays phone tag a few more times that day. I ignore all his calls. He calls up to my job, he get the dial tone. He pops up Tuesday and Wednesday but luckily my girl sees him, knows the situation, and steer his ass on. Of course he curses me out daily via voicemail and then blubbers an apology. I even have my boyfriend picking me up from work so I can avoid him.
My phone has been quiet since Friday. And he didn't show up (to my knowledge, he could be lurking in the corner) at my job this weekend. Do you think he got the clue?
Damn stalker. Ruins it for everyone else. I’m not even picking up calls that don’t have an ID for fear it’s his ass.
And I’m sick? Sh*t I’m too sick to run let alone try to outrun a deranged killer. Dude is disturbed.
So pray for me yall.