I'm Still Traumatized...

My Tuesday ended much better thank you very much.

Never mind I was trapped at work until eleven.

And never mind it was so damn humid and oh Engineering decided to cut the AC for an hour so they could fix on some things. Yeah a bitch was sweating like a runaway slave.

And we all know what heat does to Black people.

So I was sweaty, hot, miserable, and not to mention I had a fucking diaper on. So I was not all ice cream and giggles. It was “Look give me your credit card, get these keys and get the fuck out my face! No I don’t give a damn about you getting a “Georgetown View”, you get whatever view the computer selected now scram…bitch!”

The fiancé was such a sweetheart though. I called him whining because that’s one thing I hate to be is hot, sweating, and on my monthly, I just feel so dirty and I am OCD when it comes to cleanliness, I take about two or three showers a day, so he brought me my toiletries, my favorite soap *Hello Kitty Body Wash in Fruit Punch*, another pair on panties and some pants *but not a shirt* and I ducked away to take a shower. Hell yeah I was on the clock too. And luckily I keep an extra shirt in my locker. So what it was wrinkled as fuck, I felt much better after taking a shower.

I never understood the people who complain about a handicapped accessible room, which is bigger but it lacks a bathtub, who the fuck takes a bath in a hotel? Me, I’m like, so you mean I can sit down while I’m taking a shower? Pretend like it’s a mini sauna in that piece? Shit…sign me up *lol*

Once I got some food in my system, T I can’t do that “one meal a day” shit like you do, I would go mad with hunger, I was sooo straight. I did have to fight the “itis” though.

Honey had some very interesting questions on her blog and rather than storm her comment boxes with an obnoxiously long reply, I decided to answer them on my obnoxiously long blog *lol*

Honey asked: Have you ever had a sexual experience when you weren't into it cause you were thinking of someone else (and I don’t' mean celebrity) what did you do you think that the motion matters (stroke) or the length.....

^Yeah I lifted it directly from your page, Honey

OMG that is a fucking story and a half. And see some men wonder why they are sent to the “He Don’t Count” shelf and we cringe when we spot them out in public.

Now I will admit I am a highly sexual person. I love sex and dammit it doesn’t take much to get me off. Nigga could tweak my nipple the right way and I’ll have to go change the panties. And needless to say, I have more than one orgasm when I have sex, so if nothing else, I gets mines *lol*. This also sucks because I will get mine but it will give the guy the illusion that they “did something” when in reality, nigga you ain’t do shit. I had to daydream and pretend!

So there’s this one cat and his ass will remain fucking nameless, wack ass, and I meant brother had it going on. I was in my “Brown Skinned Nigga” stage and he was as brown as they come, body nice and cut, teeth gleaming, hair always groomed, dressed well. He was just a little pretty nigga. And I had to have that ass. It was lust at first sight.

But I knew what type of nigga he was, the type that loves for women to sweat him and be all over him, let him be “the man” and shit, and you know I ain’t on that shit, so I played my cards right. You know charmed his ass nice and good but not sweating him, playing the role like “nigga you ain’t shit, you just aight” *a blow to the ego* and generally just ignoring him, even though I was digging him. I read him kind of well so before I know it, he was chasing after me, you know that whole “challenge” shit really got to him.

We would talk on the phone and of course we would have the whole “girl do you know what I will do to you I’ll have you climbing the walls” conversation, I’m yawning like put up or shut up my nigga and he’s still insisting that he bangs backs out, which of course due to the oh so infamous “rumors” he had done to quite a few girls so I was a little curious on this.

I should have slapped the shit out of whoever spoke such vicious lies about this nigga. In fact I wouldn’t be surprised if he spread the shit himself. Women need to stop lying to these damn men to make them feel better because then they walk around with a false sense of how their dicks are.

Bitches probably put on the performance of a lifetime too. When Harry met Sally indeed. Bitches need an Oscar for the performances they put on.

So after weeks of playing around with him, I decided to just gone head and give him some.

I should’ve slapped the shit out of my coochie while I was at for being so damn thirsty.

It started off nicely enough. He came over, we’re “watching a movie” *as that’s why I called him over, I guess that’s an universal line as well, “umm why don’t you come over? We can watch a movie or something…” lol*, he suggests the good old “back massage” *another universal line* that of course requires no shirt because he has massage oil *nigga came prepared, no baby oil over here *lol*

Nice strong hands, almost put me to sleep.

A fantastic kisser. He could bottle those lips up and sell them. So you know drawls all wet and shit because I love a great kisser. I’m feeling on the package and I’m like “Thank GAWD!!!” Ok the rumors are on point. He is working with a lil’ something something.

And that’s when shit falls apart.

So I hurry up and jump out the rest of my clothes, damn near knocked over my lamp trying to fumble with my tight ass jeans. It was a struggle for me to slide my ass in those bad boys so I knew it would be a struggle to get out them bitches. He’s already naked. Niggas are like Houdini when it comes to having sex, just slide out them clothes like magic.

So we’re kissing still, he playing with the nipples, with Ms. Kitty, just got me squirming.

And then…nothing.

I can’t really describe the feeling but it felt like nothing. I felt it slide it….but ummm nothing. No fireworks, nothing. A slight tingle but even Ms. Kitty was like, “What the fuck is this shit?” It just didn’t feel good whatever the feeling was. So me, I’m like fuck this, I’m going to get mine one way or another, so I tried to ease him so I could get on top. He had the nerve to tell me to stop squirming! He did not want me to move at all. No hip thrusting, nothing. Now I’m assuming he’s having a damn good time because he’s moaning, whispering shit in my ear, just have tuned me the fuck out. I’m silent as fuck.

The “new” me would have been like “OH HELL NAW….Nigga get the fuck off of me” threw his clothes at him and tossed him out on his ass. The “old” me was much nicer, I’m like “well I’m going to make due with what I got”. So since I'm obviously not squirm in ecstasy, I had to conjure up some images. I began to think about SIGMA's tongue and the dick action he be throwing down, and boy oh boy could that man put in some work. He should be teaching classes. I’m thinking so much about his ass, Ms. Kitty began to wake up out of her nap and began reacting because she remembers all too well our encounters with SIGMA so she's reacting like SIGMA is laying the smack down on her ass.

So my hips start moving and he’s telling me not to do that but fuck him, I’m going to go for mine. Bucked his ass right into an orgasm…but not before I got mine *lol*

Of course he’s breathing hard and sweating, you know “oh you worked me out blah blah blah” so I drop the hint that he has to go because I have class in the morning. I walk him to the door and he asks when he can see me again. I told him everyday…in our 2 pm class and slam the fucking door.

Ok so not much has changed over the years *lol*

And fuck that shit, nigga we ain’t do shit. Yeah I began the pep talk to myself to convince myself we didn’t fuck so it would sound believable. That shit was just beyond wack. It’s not like sex is rocket science. It’s not hard to learn.

But alas our night time romp got out, I don’t know what the fuck he told people but a nice amount of niggas began to flock toward me, of course getting ignored, he probably told them I gave him head or some shit. Of course, me, I’m like “I didn’t fuck that nigga, he’s lying on his dick” but I didn’t sound too convincing, I guess, my anger kept shining through. Of course ICEE and FH knew because I had to do the typical "female" phone call afterwards to grip about it. You know we have to do that whenever we get some new dick in our life. That's just mandatory. FH chalked it up to a “sticky thigh” and ICEE was surprised, she heard the rumors as well. I avoided that nigga the rest of the semester although he took to waiting for me after class, popping up at the library and my room on occasion only to have the door slammed in his face. I moved in with ICEE second semester and did not update my registry on the school’s directory. Old wack ass nigga.

Damn shame I had to think of another dick in order to get off. Had to trick Ms. Kitty into thinking she was getting the good shit.

And that’s why the motion is much better than the length. Length doesn’t mean shit if the motion is off. A Vienna sausage can work it like a Polish if he knows how to move. In fact that shit is false advertising like a mug. I should have called BBB on his ass for lying about the damn product at hand. I wuz robbed! No wonder the chick he hooked up with later in the year walked around with a damn attitude. She got trapped by the rumors and then stuck *lol*. I hope she invested in a toy or something. Why is it that men who can't fuck worth a damn usually have a fantastic mouth? Could that translate down to the lower region? How the fuck are you going to work on the mouth and not the package? It's only so much head I want before I'm ready to get to business, what you thought the mouth was going to distract me? I secretly think men whose mouth is fantastic knows they ain't working with shit downstairs and uses their oral skills to distract you from the real thing. FALSE ADVERTISING men! FALSE ADVERTISING!

And that’s just one of my worst sexual experience.

I Hate Being A Girl *Sometimes*....

Today I’m in a grumpy place.

I’m working at night *cringes*

Aunt Flo has decided to drop in on me a fucking week early. I’m not complaining considering the alternative but dammit I was not expecting you for another week. Just threw a damn monkey wrench into my plans.

Fucking Direct Loans. I loathe you. Oh your website might be fixed on the 1st? But I can still mail my payment in huh? Just my name, bank information and social security number just all out there on a check huh? Just make it a little bit easy for the identity thefters *lol that’s not even a word is it?* to snatch up and ruin the credit that I have worked too damn hard for.

Fucking attack cat has been on the rampage. Why the hell did the cat gnaw up one of my damn thongs? I found the shit under our vents along with my eye drops, a bite size Reese Cup, and one of my Hello Kitty key chains. Fucking thong was gnawed to shreds, if I didn’t see the Victoria Secret’s tag in the back I would have sworn it was an old rag. So not only is the cat an attack cat but a pack rat and a damn thief. He is so lucky I watch Animal Police and I know they wouldn’t hesitate to put my ass on blast for beating the shit out the cat.

Did I mention I’m just generally grumpy around this time of the month? And it’s not like I suffer from cramps or anything because I don’t. I take a one Tylenol and I’m straight the entire 4 days. The Lord know what he was doing, he knows I’m a punk on pain. I act like I am stabbed from a paper cut, finger just gauzed up like it was chopped off or something. Which of course lets you know when I do drop a seed, I plan on being drugged to the max. Damn that, I’ll inject myself. Me and the baby glassy eyed and high like a muthafucker.

I hate when people hang up in my face. How rude. The old me would call back and spaz the fuck out. The new me is like fuck it, bitch you’ll call me before I call you. Don’t be mad because I’m not trying to hear you before 8 am.

Yeah yeah I’ll be a bad friend.

My best friend is talking about she wants some Jordans for her birthday. Um bitch I don’t buy my own Jordans what makes you think I’m going to search on the internet for yours? And stop biting off of me, damn. *lol* Yes I did finally find my Jordans thanks to LIGHT BRIGHT he put me on to this website that sells AUTHENTIC Retro Jordans and some of those prices are out there, I wish I would pay $425 for some fucking shoes, and folks sure do buy them, shit buy mine then. So my shoes are being shipped to me as we speak. Gosh that man of mine spoils me. I have whined about them enough.

I said I’ll think about it.
I’m still grumpy though.

I hate being woken up early for nothing.

But you know good old DRAMA. Always has a story to tail. Um just because you have an 8 am class does not mean I have an 8 am class. I know we haven’t talked in a few weeks but um could you have called me after 10 am?

And everyone knows about the engagement. I wasn’t aware I had to give personal phone calls to everyone to announce the news. And besides I texted your dumb ass. And it’s on Face Book, bitch check the profile and not the pictures!

Speaking of which, I need to update my pictures. I have loads of pictures on the computer, I’m just being a lazy ass bum. I’m a camera whore so I’m always taking pictures so it shouldn’t be any reason on why I have this old ass picture from three years ago up. *lol*

And I also noticed I send an obnoxious amount of pictures to people from my phone. Obnoxious. I’ll just be taking pictures walking down the street and sending it to people. Nostrils just all up in the pictures and shit. I know people think I’m narcissistic. I’m preening for the camera, smiling and shit, just walking down the street. I know they’re thinking, “This Conceited Bitch…That’s why she almost tripped nah!” I do not need a camera phone obviously. I’m going to use it for a greater good…showcasing the hot ass messes in the Washington DC Metro Area. It’s still hot as hell here so the bears are still out and lurking. I still wish I had gotten my ideal breasts on camera.

So I’m going to stop sending folks pictures. I was looking in LIGHT BRIGHT’s phone *one of few guys who just let me snoop all up in their phone and shit, well we ain’t fucking so I guess he figures he doesn’t have anything to hide* and I have sent him at least, randomly, about 20-30 pictures. He has pictures that I’ve forgotten that I’ve taken and they were cute so you know I had to send them back to my phone *lol* Um yeah discovered his, um, porn collection as well. I guess that’s what hot out in the streets I guess but um yeah females should only highlight the good features and not the bad. I mean I know I have a few stretch marks on the butt but got damn…one girl had the entire beltway on her ass….I was like “photoshop” boo.

I’ve been guilty of the same crime so I guess I can’t rag on the girls too much although, um why would you send out a picture of your, um, vaginal muscle? In fact why would you want your phone that close to, um, that area? I might send the random “look at my cute panties baby maybe you should come home and rip them off” picture but I’m not to reach that scale. An occasionally booby picture here and there which usually is followed by “what the hell is that?” which of course is followed by the “middle finger” picture.

And even then I’m shy, I demand that it’s erased from the phone.

Or at least if you’re going to use the pictures for bad, heighten up the breasts, ok? Photo shop my shit or something.

I’m starting to feel much better.

We’ll see what this work day brings me.

Saturday Night Fever...

Saturday was a hot night in the city.

Ok well technically it wasn’t because it rained off and on during the day but that’s beside the point.

Got a rude awakening early in the morning by my mother fussing at my brother for not taking out the garbage and of course like any Black mother she ranted and raved about it for close to an hour never mind that he got up, took out the garbage and went back to bed, oh no, she’s going to let the entire household know she’s mad about the garbage.

Of course this is nothing I am not used to, usually it was about me and the damn dishes, I mean so what there was one fork in the sink when you came in from work, I mean damn 99% of the dishes were done, so sue me, I went to sleep and your lazy ass son could have rinsed that damn fork out, but the only difference was she would drag me out the bed to wash that damn fork.

I know, crazy right?

So I figured that was time for me to get my black ass out the bed. So it’s like 9 am and a bitch is out the bed before noon, almost unheard of on a weekend, especially when I don’t have to work.

My godson’s mother called me and we made plans to meet up but bitch never called me back, old skank. And watch she try to flip this one on me.

I run a few errands for my mother, upset because it’s drizzling, I don’t have an umbrella and you know Black women and our hair, I was not trying to let not a drop hit my damn hair. And it’s time for a relaxer?! Quit playing! One drop of water and shit is frizzing up like an afro.

And I have dubbed a shirt that I have as an unintentional maternity shirt. I’m mad too because this shirt makes my breasts look humongous, well maybe that’s why its also a maternity shirt, because folks know damn well my breasts are not that big without my push up bras. It’s an empire waist shirt but I guess because of the way it billows out, it gives the illusion of a “baby bump”.

The same “baby bump” I have been trying to get rid of for months. The same “baby bump” aqua “Buddha belly” that I get when I stuff my damn face too much.

And now the same “baby bump” that had everyone giving me a double take. It started with my mother looking at me and shrieking am I pregnant, my brother asking *and getting slapped upside the head* if the only reason we’re getting married is because I’m knocked, my aunt asking me if I was “expecting”, a few dudes on the block asking who is my baby daddy because obviously I’m knocked but don’t worry “it agrees with me” *whatever that means*.

So you know I am fucking pissed by now and my knuckles are raw from knocking on wood. I’m going to have to post a picture of me in this shirt and ask yall opinion, I say hell naw but everyone says “I do” but it’s mainly because the top gives the illusion that I have big breasts, and obviously I must be knocked because they all know that’s a lie *damn no one hurts you like family* and the cut of the shirt gives my “baby bump” a more “maternal” look rather than the “bitch get on a treadmill or do some stomach crunches” the way it usually does.

And not to mention I was eating everything in sight. Hmmm…it might be a trip to the drug store in my immediate future.

I was dragged to a BBQ by my father, unfortunately he found out I was in town and guys of course I was talking about my mother yall know damn well his words don’t hold merit with me *lol*, which wasn’t that bad because it meant food for me. Had to do the family parading around so everyone could see the ring and bombard me with a million and one questions, namely me picking a good church, a good preacher *umm this is a wedding not a church service*, and a good reception hall. Spent some time with my grandmother and got dropped off. He wanted me to attend a stepper’s set but umm three hours out my day is my time limit with him.

At home my mother and I had some words because apparently she’s been promising folks they could be in my wedding. I mean she’s trying to make it a family affair for real. Making cousins bridesmaid and groomsmen, flower girls and ring bearers, ushers, the whole nine. So I’m mad because one, that means some hurt feelings are about to go on because the people she’s talking to are not going to be in my wedding, period. Second, how the hell is she going to pick out my bridesmaids and his groomsmen? Granted FH, TWIN, JAMROCK, my godson’s mother, and JAMROCK’s cousin were included but she added in my two younger cousins and one of her bowling team mates daughter, not to mention her two sons and my nephew as a ring bearer. How many fucking kids does it take to bring down some damn rings? What they’re going to switch off mid aisle or something?

So we’re arguing about this and I have to keep reminding her that this is my shit and if things don’t go my way, aint shit getting kicked off. I’ll elope, Martin and Gina style, keep messing with me. And besides this wedding is not until 2008 so stop acting like it’s around the corner. And stop promising folks shit without my permission. Now I have to be the bad guy and inform folks that they are not in my damn wedding.

The icing on the cake was when she suggested that I should let my cousin, whom I haven’t spoken to in four years because we fell out really bad, be a bridesmaid. Oh it got heated then because the bitch will be lucky if she’s invited let alone pass out a program at my wedding. I told my mother flat out hell no. She can not be a part of my bridal party. She is a vindictive pathological liar and I can’t trust her as far as I can throw her. She lies about the simplest thing and I can’t have someone like that in my party because I’ll have to constantly keep an eye on her among other things. And not to be mean or anything but my bridesmaid dresses are strapless and backless *you know I had to got with the cheap hooker look for my girls* and my cousin does not have the body type for that type of dress. She’s not thick, she’s not curvy/voluptuous, she’s Star Jones before the weight loss. And even then Star looks smaller. She has issues about that, among the other beefs that she has with me, and while I think she looks gorgeous the way she is *she just has a fucked up attitude that makes people veer away from her* I just don’t like the broad. And nothing against “thick” women because 75% of the women in my family are big boned, but that variation screams “hot ass mess” to me. I’m sure no one wants to see that coming down the aisle. At least I don’t. And I am not modifying my damn dresses for no one. I fell in love with the dresses when I first saw it and unless I find something cuter, I am sticking with the one I found. Fuck that. And besides I don’t fuck with her like that anyway. I love her but I don’t like the hoe and I’ll be damn if the bitch is apart of my bridal party. So my mother was a little teed but damn that, this is my shit and I’ll be damn if I’m unhappy on my fucking wedding day to please some family members. Damn that.

So I’m bumming on the block, looking out the window like a typical ghetto heifer trying to see who is on the block when LIGHT BRIGHT calls and asks do I want to go to the movie to see Idlewild, which I did because I have developed a crush on Andre 3000. Sure we have the same body type and his perm looks better than mine but I think something is so sexy about his little eccentric ass.

I thought the movie was really cute, a little predictable, but I enjoyed the movie. It was funny in the right places *ok and so I laughed during a few inappropriate times* and I really enjoyed the songs. Ok there were a few historical flaws and costumes errors that were in the movie that yours truly had to point out, but whatever. Everyone looked really nice and I am now convinced that Terrance Howard is nuts in real life. He just has that glint in his eye like he will fuck you up in a back alley or something. That “beat a bitch’s ass” Ike Turner glint. Or am I the only one who sees that?

Of course there were the typical ghetto ass niggas in the show, no show in Chicago is complete without them, and I was surprised at all the teens in the 11 pm show. I mean it was more people under 15 in the show than adults! Lawd I wish my mama was that lax on curfews back in high school. Shit my ass better had been marching in the house no later than 11 on weekends or that was my ass.

I had changed out of the “maternity” shirt by then but he did get a peek of me in it because he came by earlier than anticipated so he was forced to wait until I took a shower, thus causing us to miss the 10 pm showing, and his eyes bugged out when he saw the shirt. Of course I had to smack him upside his head because he asked me, yet another jackass damn am I getting fat or something, when was I dropping “my seed” and he was hurt that I didn’t tell him I was knocked. Another sign my ass needs to pull away from the cheeseburger and fries combo meal.

Of course a sluttier looking top replaced the one that I had one, one that boosted the breasts but not the damn stomach so he was eyeing me a little too hard the entire night. Even demanded that I put on his jacket because my “headlights” were showing and he claimed guys were looking. Look those things are sensitive, any blast of air hardens them, don’t get it twisted *lol*. And it was cold as hell in the theater, luckily my Hello Kitty footies were still in my purse.

We stopped at the liquor store on our way to the theater and got a 5th of Tang, some juice and some paper cups and smuggled them in the theater, yeah typical “nigga” shit, I know. We sat in the back of the theater and basically finished half of the bottle by the time the movie ended, maybe that’s why we were laughing so much, we were drunk as fuck. Well he was but I wasn’t.

That’s when I found out the nigga has a fucking gun.

We’re stumbling to the car, talking about the movie, when he asks do I want to see something. Thinking he’s talking about “his Johnson” as he likes to call it, I says “hell no” because um yeah, I don’t need to see random penis. He’s like he bought a gun last week and of course like the fool that he is, rather than wait for his permit, oh he’s just going to ride with the shit in the car. And he wonders why so many Black men are locked up on weapons charges. Granted he has the paperwork for it and everything, Chicago police is not trying to hear that. Both of our asses *well his because a bitch had her running shoes on her, they weren’t catching me* would be freezing in the County that night.

I don’t really like guns because they make me nervous and niggas from Chicago are notoriously bad shooters so I don’t like being around one in case it goes off and hit me or something, so I’m upset because he has the shit in the car knowing damn well we could be pulled over and it’s all she wrote for our asses. And he keeps it in the glove compartment?

*sigh*

I don’t want to see the shit and I’m inching away from the car when opens the doors and grabs it out the compartment. I guess it’s a .40 caliber, chrome, in a leather case. He cocks it back to show me there are no bullets in the compartment, they’re in the trunk and hands it over to me. I look at him like he’s crazy. You wont be committing any felonies with my fingerprints on that bitch. And did he not hear me state put that shit away before someone spots him?

I mean I up them thangs *lol yeah right* with the best of them but I’m a lover not a shooter. I have shot a gun before though and it’s pretty sexy, but um yeah I stay away from guns for the very reason that I don’t want to shoot someone’s foot off. Using a towel, I take the gun from him, look at it, it was actually pretty nice looking *lol typical girl…oh what a pretty gun…lol* and place it back in the glove compartment.

So we’re driving on the expressway, listening to R.Kelly/Jay Z Best of Both Worlds cd when this fool spots another Monte Carlo and decided to drag race with the nigga.

Yall know how I feel about the expressway and speeding and when I see him step on the gas, I flip out on his ass because dammit I will not die in the PussyMobile. Deaf ears once again. So they’re weaving in and out of traffic like this is Fast and the Furious 4: Chicago Stunnas or some shit while I’m gripping the seats and checking to make sure my seat belt is tight. I’m also screaming for him to slow down because they’re still doing construction on the Dan Ryan and we’re quickly approaching 95th and I know the lanes are reduced drastically at that point. And more cars are on the expressway that than in the suburbs where they started racing.

So I’m praying to the lord to help me make it through this, I mean I am literally sweating on the verge of having a panic attack, and I’m thinking of busting a cap in his ass when he slows down.

Finally they slow down because there’s a crunch at 87th and at 55th we get off the expressway. As soon as we hit a red light, I get the fuck out the car. This fool is fucking nuts, I’ll take my chances with the crack heads. So I’m walking, he’s trailing me, we’re arguing yelling at each other back and forth because I refuse to get back in the car and I’m walking to the nearest bus stop, a bitch will hop on the bus and go home.

Of course the crack heads starts eyeing me and shit making me nervous because these are 55th crack heads and they are nuts. So to prevent my possible homicide over my damn purse and the $20 that’s in it, I get back in the car and demands he drops me off.

He takes me to IHOP instead. He knows food is the way to getting back in my good graces. I’m still pissed at him but I still stuff my face.

He takes me home and why the hell are folks still up in my household? Folks just sitting up like its 7 pm and not 3 am in the morning. Since he offered to drop me off at the airport and everyone is still up having a good old time at my crib, he comes in and plays a few games of Bid Whist with my peoples while my mother is eyeing me checking to see if the ring is still on my finger, which it was, never left the finger the entire night. I caught him looking a few times but he didn’t say anything.

I grab 30 minutes of sleep and struggle to make it to the airport. I made it with 20 minutes to spare. Got to my gate at final boarding call, I won’t even trip on the long ass tunnel I had to run down to get to the gate, seems like that shit stretched forever. Fucking gate A4B is a pain in the ass.

In another window seat…right by the fucking jet engines! Fucking Air Tran is playing with me right about now. Are you fucking kidding me? First the damn wings now the damn engine? You know I’m eagle hawking the shit out of that engine. And I also had another first…I used the airplane washroom! Yeah we were still docked and had yet to move but I have never used the washroom on a plane. Well I don’t like using pubic toilets anyway unless I just cant hold it in any longer and my ass hovers about 7 inches from the toilet seat and I’m a little OCD when it comes to washing my hands…but whatever.

How the fuck do people fuck in that little ass bathroom? I felt like I was trapped in R. Kelly’s infamous closet or some shit.

I had to go bad thanks to me running behind in security, like I’m really going to be able to strap a bomb in my $3.50 Old Navy flip flops that are on their last legs as I speak.

My flight attendant looked exactly like Tyra Banks, forehead and all, I had to do a quick double take for a hot second. She was really nice though.

A few Final Destination moments did have me inching my way toward the entrance. The light over my seat burned out as soon as I touched it, someone’s hip bumped the seat next to me and the tray fell off, and the power went out and came back on. Little Tyra assured me that shit was all good and to sit my black ass back down. I was eyeing her like if this shit goes down know that I’m punching you in the fucking face before I leap off the plane.

With my bladder empty and my eyelids heavy, I went to sleep as soon as I sat back down. Was snoozing so good I didn’t wake up until we landed in Atlanta. Went back to sleep in the airport, and stayed up long enough to see that I was in yet another window seat by the wing. I woke up when we landed in DC.

Came home to discover my kitchen in shambles. Had to fuss for a hot second, fiancé and attack cat looking guilty as hell.

After cleaning up, I laid right back down and went to sleep for another hour and a half. Got up, cooked chicken quesadillas, chatted on IM, and took my ass to bed only to drag my weak ass to work in the morning, tired as shit like I didn’t sleep half of my Sunday away.

FH finally got around to reading my blog and made a clever deduction that I am flirting with a fellow blogger. *sigh* That wasn’t the purpose of her checking it out, but whatever bitch knows me too well. She is insulted, she feels I should discuss her more in my blog and complains that other folks get more “blog time” than her! How’s that for a damn Gemini? Bitch get your own damn blog! *lol*

Hey MR. FANTASTIC! Told you I would include you one of these days!

*waves*

I had a pretty interesting weekend, I guess. Anything new and exciting happen to any one?

Friday In Chicago...

Well…how can I sum up yet another exciting weekend in Chicago?

I’ll just stick with “crazy” for right now.

Very crazy as only my family can do.

My day began early Friday morning as I dashed to the airport for my flight. I’m pissed because I have to check my luggage and instead of doing my routine 30 minutes until the flight leave knocking over folks and cutting in line to get through security to run to my gate out of breathe and sweating, I’m there an hour and a half early just to check my luggage so I’m not throwing away my Enchanted Apple lotion, Crest, and D&G perfume.

Like my black ass could ever be a terrorist. As much as a bitch hates to fly, the last thing I’m personally thinking of is taking the plane down. Um hello, I’m on that bitch too! I’m too paranoid thinking every bump, thump, and grind is a sign the plane is going to malfunction. And we all know one thing, if no one else survives Tenacious is getting off of that plane some way, shape or form. Damn that, a bitch is at the emergency exit and I’ll take my chances with the skies.

Oh and T, yes I would have raided the liquor cabinets before I jump. Taking vodka to the head as I’m jumping off.

So I’m sitting and waiting and mad because well I’m at the airport early as fuck and I’m still grumpy because I didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before.

Find out I’m sitting right on the fucking wing. Next to the emergency exit seats *you know I’m not saving any one. I am not a hero* I hate sitting next to the wing and the jet engines. Fucking hate it. You know those are the first things to go and/or explode/detach when the shit hits the fan. Every little noise they make have me on edge. And I had a window seat?! I had to close the shades because I was constantly looking out the window…and this was before we even left the runway! I’m quick to call an attendant and ask what the hell is that noise, and how come that is doing that, and where’s the parachute…you know that type of thing. Just because I worked at an airport before doesn’t mean shit as far as I’m concerned. I just hate flying.

And they try to freeze you on the damn plane too but that’s another issue. I have to pack a jacket, a small blanket, and my Hello Kitty footies with me so I wont freeze to death while on the flight, be walking through the airport in the summer wrapped up like I’ve just left the North Pole.

This flight going to Chicago was pretty uneventful. Like I said once I closed the shades and stopped eyeing the wing like a hawk counting screws and shit, I was straight. I slept the entire flight, although I had to have yet the same argument with a flight attendant about my purse. Look it’s not going out my sight nor am I placing it on the floor, don’t you know it’s bad luck to put your purse on the floor, especially on a damn airplane?! And I left one of my books on the damn airplane. Hey if anyone picked up a hardback Stephen King novel *I know creepy right who in the hell reads a Stephen King novel on a damn airplane?*, that’s mine! I paid $18 for that damn book!

I get to Midway and I’m waiting at the baggage claim when I get hit on. By a lesbian of course, you know this is me you’re talking about.

I’m wearing my absolutely favorite shirt in the world and when I find the picture on my computer I’ll put it up…Objects under this shirt are larger than they appear, I know a riot right, and I’m trying to grab my bag when the girl that was on the side of me *whom I caught eyeing me a few times but I’m thinking it’s because of the shirt because it always get attention* and she’s like, ”So can I test that theory for myself?

Errr?!

Rather than ask her to repeat it because I know I heard it right the first time and I know what the hell she meant, I just cut a side eye and started to wheel my luggage away. While waiting for my grandmother to pull back around she comes up to me and ask for my phone number so she could call me. Um no bitch! I flashed the ring and told her in not so many words that I’m the president of the I heart Penis club so scram bitch.

*sigh*

I’m not even “lesbian friendly” so why are they after me? Has a rumor been spread about me via internet or something? Is my picture on a gay website with the words “Please Hit On Me…I’m Convertible” or something? I would be flattered if I wasn’t repulsed by the thought of a woman’s mouth on my body.

After playing with my fat baby cousin and my high yellow ass niece, you know I heart my babies, and showcasing the little Rocawear velour suits I splurged on for them even though I don’t really believe in buying “urban” gear for babies, like an infant need a Baby Phat blue jean outfit, I couldn’t resist because well they were cute and “splurged” meaning I was in T.J. Maxx and dropping a hot $20 when they retail for $48, I began the hunt for Red October, meaning my little fast ass cousin.

Saw her waddling her already protruding stomach ass down the street and caught up with her half way and spent the next hour and a half, yelling and lecturing her. I felt semi bad because she started crying through half of it but fuck that shit! She is too fucking young and too smart to fall victim *again* to teen pregnancy. There’s too much out on the market for her to prevent getting pregnant *again* and I’m not buying her little excuse. Fucking is inevitable when you live in the ‘hood as it is and all the little girls on the block aspire to be the next video chick or Ray Ray’s baby mama, but dammit you don’t have to follow the “baby mama” route. Well not the video chick either but that’s another subject.

Go home and my brother and I had a few words. Get a fucking job you fucking bum! I told my mother she had crippled the boy by spoiling his lazy ass and he needs to get a damn job. I don’t see why the hell he can’t get a damn job and how the hell do you quit a job after you get your first check? Just plain fucking stupid. Everyone is always making excuses for him but I see past all the “woe is me” violin solo he’s constantly playing. Yes he has a learning disability and he can’t read very well but that damn boy can read enough to get a damn job. He is a wizard with numbers and is very bright, he just doesn’t apply himself. He rather hang out in the streets than get a damn job and tries to use his learning disability as a crutch all the time. Oh grow the hell up.

I’m hard on him because no one else will be. They fall to the little act he puts on and leave it at that. I have to stay on his ass because no one else will nag at him the way I do.

After stuffing my face with the neighborhood eats *oh Harold’s, White Castle, Nick’s Pizza Puffs and Italian Beefs, and Mild Sauce, how I have missed you* I laid down for a quick nap, yeah my fat ass maxed a bit and then I hit the block.

Good old OMAR just happened to be down the street and of course his eagle eye ass spotted me. But he’s been less crazy since he’s hooked up with some chick *run bitch run* and of course he had to walk around with the “smug” smirk on his face. Um boo she’s cute but not that damn cute *lol* and besides if I wanted your ass which I don’t that might be a problem. Damn girl look scared to me, should’ve escaped when you have the chance.

So we’re trading little insults and digs at each other, *typical of us of course* and I flash the ring. The crazy ass OMAR I know and fear shows up, right on schedule. Of course ending with the traditional “I’m a trifling bitch and I probably used my witchcraftery *his words* to get him to marry me, we’re going to be divorced in a year, he hopes I break a leg…” his usual rants and raves. And he’s doing this all in front of the “new” girlfriend. You know my ignorant, adding fuel to the fire ass, had to start laughing like a fool. He hates for people to laugh at him so I’m just taunting him like the bitch that I am and I go in the house and slam the door.

Maybe I’m just as crazy as he is. One of these days he’s actually going to run me over. One of these days…I feel sorry for old girl though. He is a horrible kisser. One of the worst kissers I have ever had in my life. How do you fuck up kissing? Just pucker your lips and touch mine. That’s it. His old wet mouth ass. I hate wet mouth ass niggas! And men wonder why I don’t like kissing too much. Every time we kissed, which I tried to avoid, it felt like he was trying to spit in my damn mouth, that’s how wet his mouth was. And even when I refused to French kiss, I still ended up with my mouth all covered in slob. *shudder* Mouth area just glossy as hell, just wet as shit. And we won’t even get on the tongue action, when he wasn’t trying to spit in my mouth, he was trying to suck my damn tonsil out, trying to sprain my tongue with his rough ass tongue. He was just horrible. Yet another reason to kick him to the curb. But…he could eat some coochie though. *shrugs* I wish he could have done that with my mouth and not the vagina.

*shudder* Ick.
I hung out on the block, talked to some folks that I haven’t talked to in a few years, got myself caught up on the gossip of the block and who got locked up and around 11 pm, I took myself in the house and crashed.

Caked on the phone with the fiancé for a little bit, yeah we’re lames on that, I will admit that one. When one of us is out of town we spend an obnoxious amount of time pillow talking to each other. Like at least 6 random calls a day to cake. Yeah yeah, I know that’s lame, but that’s as far as our PDA goes most of the time, we’ll cake on the phone, occasionally hold hands, a pat here and there, maybe an impulsive kiss but that’s as far as we take it. I don’t really like too much touching in public. And you know my attention wanders…*lol* ok not in front of him of course.

Went to sleep while the sound of constant car bass, random cat calls and shouts, and the hum of the air conditioner went on around me.

Damn it feels good to be back home!

Too Lazy To Type....

It's called "Three Things" and I've swiped this one from Mr. T Cas as usual. I'm listless and I don't feel like typing too much today. So enjoy good people...

1. Things that scare me
Bugs
Heights
Car accidents

2. People who make me laugh
My friends
Family
Bloggers

3. Things I hate most
I hate liars
Mentally and physically abusive people
People who nag all the time

4. Things I don't understand
The male mind *sometimes*
The female mind
Serial Killers/Pedophiles

5. Things I'm doing right now
Eating
Responding to emails
Typing *duh*

6. Things I want to do before I die
Get married and have kids
Travel
Win the power ball

7. Things I can do
I am random facts queen
Dance
Put up with a lot of bullshit

8. Ways to describe my personality
Sarcastic
Loyal
Honest

9. Things I can't do
paint my own nails
stop talking *lol*
lie

10. Things I think you should listen to
Your parents *lol*
Your conscious *um T, not the voices that tell you to do bad shit*
God’s message

11. Things you should never listen to
Negative people
Anyone political
single ass friends trying to give you relationship advice

12. Things I'd like to learn
Spanish
Anger Management
Knit

13. Favorite Foods
Chicken Breasts
Mac and cheese
smothered pork chops

14. Beverages I drink regularly
Water
Pepsi
Fruit Juice

15. Shows I watched as a kid
Eureka’s Castle
Sesame Street
Golden Girls

16. People I'm Tagging
Eh do it if you want…

I Need Worker's Compensation

I had a pretty decent weekend although I was forced to work the entire weekend. Sh*t I have to work today, tomorrow, and Thursday and then off to Chicago for the weekend for me.

I talked to my mother yesterday. Oh not only is my 18 year old cousin pregnant for the second time and her babies will officially be a year apart, the new baby is due in February, but it’s by the same crazy ass dude. I guess I can’t be mad, sh*t at least the kids have the same father although dude has about two big ass florescent lights out upstairs. This little nigga is nuts and I mean in the crazy sense. In the “Ima burn this muthaf*cking house down with you in it” crazy. Sure I say the same sh*t when I’m angry but I’m no fool. He, on the other hand, is.

Apparently my brother found a good job at a nursing home but oh decided after getting one paycheck that his “working days are over”. So my mother kicked him out *finally*. He’s staying at my aunt’s right now looking pitiful. I should know because I got the drunken phone call at 3:34 am. Yeah I picked up, I was assuming the worst but no it was my aunt updating me on the same sh*t my mother had called about hours prior. Do I feel sorry for my brother? Hell f*cking no! He’s about to be 20 f*cking years old and still want to depend on my mother like he’s 11 or something. Talking about can he have some money so he not his children whom my mother is basically raising, can buy some Jordans.

*sigh*

Boy you gotta love my family. So I’ve been instructed not to give him any money. Like I was going to part with my hard earned cash anyway. I know one thing, he better not show up on my doorstep.

And speaking of children…apparently my niece’s mother **his second baby mama…boy you gotta love those “hood codes” of adulthood** is pregnant…again…with her third child. Did I mention she’s only 18…and she just had my niece in April?

*sigh*

Apparently she was on “The Shot” *of course…they always are….funny how I was on the shot for over 3 years and my boyfriend shot hella loads in me but not once did I end up pregnant…never missed an appointment* but she misses one appointment and ends up pregnant. Her excuse? Her doctor went out of town. Last time I checked at the clinic anyone can give you “The Shot” and if your primary practitioner went “out of town”, other doctors will pick up his/her load until that doctor returns. And then again, this is the f*cking clinic! Nurses administer that sh*t not doctors!

But what do I know?

Oh no worries though, she’s not keeping this one. But she’s already 9 weeks along. So I’m like...”So when does she plan on waltzing her way into the clinic to get this done? I mean anytime before the first trimester should be good, you know whenever she’s ready. And tell me they’re going to do some illegal sterilization while they’re up there?”

Apparently that wasn’t funny. Sh*t it was funny to me. I laughed and laughed. My mother told me I have a mental problem and hung up.

Can you believe that? My mother hung up on me. She’s “Pro-Life”. I’m “Pro-Choice”. Only difference is she’s not blowing up clinics and she does believe that victims of rape/incest should have the right to abort the fetus. Otherwise she’s just as crazy as the folks from PETA. I’m surprised the damn girl told her, I blame sheer stupidity, you really think my mother is going to let you scrape one of her grandchildren out your body? Me…eh I believe that if I take the proper methods outside of abstinence *which just ain’t happening over here* such as birth control and condoms and by some method, stubborn sperm, cheap ass pills, watered down Depo solution, old rusty condom that had no business being in your wallet…whatever and I still get pregnant it’s off to the clinic I go but only after I get a second, third, and fourth opinion and I have a serious discussion with the father. Not to mention a lawyer because I’m suing somebody up in this piece. And if I still do not want it, well…I’ll cross that hurdle when and if I get to it.

There’s a difference between f*cking, no protection no birth control whatsoever and seeing an abortion as the “ultimate birth control” *and trust I went to a high school where girls discussed their trips to the clinic like they went grocery shopping. Bragging on how that was their third or fourth abortion and even told each other “tricks” to get more because after the fifth or something no one will do them anymore as you probably have enough scarring on your uterus to prevent from having children period. Ah gotta love inner city high schools* and taking preventative methods, get pregnant and still don’t want the baby. Sh*t it’s some people who feels as though they’re not stable enough to have a child for whatever reason. Everyone doesn’t have a support system that can help when times are rough. And I know that some men are trifling as sh*t. Whoop and holler about “not killing his baby” and “oh he’ll be there for her and the baby” and nigga is gone by due date. Can’t get him to buy a pack of baby wipes for the baby he wanted. Ladies, and that leads into another lesson: don’t have babies to keep a man. Just don’t. You heard that from Tenacious. And then there are folks who just shouldn’t have children period. I can smell the bad parenting from a mile away. But then again, that’s me.

**hops off of soapbox before it’s blown apart by a Pro-Lifer**

*sigh*

So great, I have to come home to all of that on Friday in addition to sitting down and ironing out wedding details.

And I still have to get my dusty ass up to take a shower so I can be yelled at from folks. Gosh you have to love the hospitality business. You just have to.

Like the argument I got into Saturday over parking. Look you pay for parking at basically any hotel in the Washington Metro Area. There’s a few where you don’t and that depends on the hotel chain and location. But trust you’re going to pay and considering the prices to park in other locations, we’re cheap as f*ck. In fact we get hella people who just park in our garage who’s not even guests of the hotel! So this one lady, you know she had to be Black, why is it when I’m working Black folks have to give me a particularly hard time? White folks, oh they grumble and go on a letter writing campaign to Corporate, our GM or RM. We give them a free breakfast and it’s all good.

Oh. No. Not Black folks.

And I hate to be a b*tch about this because it’s not just Black people so don’t think I’m just stereotyping but in my experience since working in a hotel for almost a year, Black folks usually are my headache and forces me to “get gutter” when needs be. But Whites and “others” have gotten the viper tongue as well.

Black folks want free parking, room and tax, dinners, room service…the works when sh*t does not go “their” way. And because I grew up in the same f*cking family with the same f*cking people I’m talking about, I know muthaf*ckers just find sh*t to complain about to get, what else, free sh*t!

Granted, we work with you if it’s some sh*t that’s our fault. Let me put that in big ass letters OUR fault and depending on the severity that’s how we work with you. Now sh*t that’s your fault…yeah holla back.

You can’t demand a free room when you’ve stopped up our toilets with your monstrous poo. In fact we should charge you because you’ve f*cked up our toilets! One man demanded we give him a free night because our toilets are cheap! Nigga you know you stop up the toilets at home with your constipated ass. Eat some f*cking fiber so you’ll be regular.

Oh we should give a free dinner because the airport lost your luggage. Last time I checked, we don’t own American Airlines. And what does this have to do with us specifically? Oh because you were rushing to the airport and got there at the last minute so it probably didn’t make the flight. Hmmm…sounds a little personal. Take that up with American Airlines.

The sinker is the ones who come in at 7am and demand a free room because why else…their room is not ready. Um yeah, check in is technically at 4pm and if there’s rooms clean, not even a problem but if we were sold out the night before **meaning every single f*cking room in the hotel has a body in it** then unfortunately you have to wait. And spare me with the “Oh well [another hotel chain] guarantees early check in because you’re lying! NO hotel in their right mind would guarantee that because the numbers change daily. Unless that hotel is never full, that’s the only way one can always get an early check-in. The earliest I would say a room is available is 11 am. And that’s because housekeeping starts cleaning at 9am. And unless you call the night before so you can be pre-checked in is also another way to get a very early morning check in. And sometimes you have to pay for that! But we’re not going to give you a free night’s stay because you’ve booked an early flight.

The list goes on and on and as Black folks we’re not budging an inch and yall know…I’m f*cking Tenacious! You definitely ain’t getting sh*t and ooh don’t come at me the wrong way. I just walk off. Now you’re not getting sh*t from me or anyone else.

I love my Black people but not when I’m working.

So this lady wanted to argue about parking stating oh she’s a rewards member *don’t you love that* and how’s she’s stayed all over the world and has never had to pay for parking. Yeah I’m sure parking camels are pretty cheap.

I wasn’t going to argue with her. I stated our parking policy, everyone pays and since I haven’t been overseas I’m not aware of their parking policies but here in the US, especially in Washington, DC you’re going to pay for parking. Now you can pay our fee or take your chances with the meters *only other option* but oh yeah those tickets are $25, which quickly goes to $40. And they will keep putting one on your car, there’s no “one ticket limit” on cars in Arlington. And Arlington County sure loves putting boots on vehicles.

She started to get loud and demanded that I comp her parking. And I refused but this time I got the stupid little smirk on my face because I really don’t like for people to get loud and indignant with me because it just brings out the “inner Ghetto chick” in me. And besides, lady wasn’t my mama, she wasn’t just going to holler at me over f*cking $12.

I just told her I did not like her attitude and as a ”professional career woman” she should be ashamed of herself for acting like a “commoner” in front of the entire staff as well as patrons of the hotel. Very unfitting and as an individual I don’t have to put up with this. Until she calms down and talk to me in a respectable tone, just because you have a Gucci purse does not give you the right to talk to me as if I am beneath you as my job is just as important as hers, this conversation is over. If she chooses to park in our hotel’s garage it will be $12, otherwise I can find you accommodations at another hotel. Where the average fee is between $16-$28 and that’s just for self parking. And she was dismissed. I handed her room keys to her and asked her to step aside so that I could assist another guest.

I knew the “professional”, “career” and “commoner” would get her, I know the “bougie” type when I see it, so she piped down, snatched the parking pass and stomped away.

All while I smiled. The people behind her went to another person, I guess they didn’t want it with me.

You do not want it with me. I’m great at what I do but don’t ask me to be a “people’s person” because I don’t budge an inch…Unless it’s our fault. I think businesses spend way too much time cuddling complainers. F*ck them, let them go elsewhere. Sure I could tell ten people easily how much of a bad time I had but how many people will honestly think, “Wow Tenacious had such a bad time, I’m not going to go there either”, sh*t maybe one or two. If that. And they might not go to the same particular place I went to but it’s not going to stop them from going to another franchise in that same chain. And I tend not to follow someone’s opinion on something because I know it’s distorted…or their opinion just doesn’t matter anyway *lol*. And some folks wouldn’t know what was “good” and “bad” if it bit them on the ass. Like I hate Applebee’s. Will never eat at any Applebee’s in my life. Why? I got food poisoning from one restaurant and besides I hate the food. I tell anyone *including yall* my disgust for that franchise. Will that stop any of yall from going? Probably not. Has it stopped any of my friends from going? Hell naw. Only person suffering is my boyfriend. That’s one place we’ll never eat together but when he’s with friends where do they go? F*cking Applebee’s. I’m not stopping any show here, so businesses stop treating complainers like they are because they’re probably not and they’re probably costly on your part.

All businesses are doing are breeding more complainers. Damn that. Folks pass along an unpleasant visit but if you give them a lot of free sh*t, they pass that along as well. “Oh I stayed at the such and such and I had a bad stay *insert problem here* and they gave me a free night’s stay. *insert light bulb over head* So if I stay somewhere similar and make the same complaint, I could get free sh*t too. And that’s exactly what they do because notice when they don’t get their way, what do they do? Bring up the friend or family who got something free when the same thing happened to them.

And of course you know she came back later to tell me the same thing. She just got a “that’s nice” and a dismissal. Look stop being cheap and pay the $12.

And that’s a night into the wonderful world of Tenacious’ job.

Any work gripes that anyone would like to share?

I Can't Believe This One...

Top of the…err…afternoon to ya….So sue me I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day in college…You know that was like a real celebration in college, school damn near shut down…well that was due to most of the students hitting the bar at, like, 9 am for green beer and vodka shots. And you know I was right there, throwing back Green Jello Shots with the best of them.

Beer is yucky so I stay away from it.

Yes…I’m in a fantastic mood today!

I have to work all damn weekend…oh goody a night shift…should be loads of fun and Friday I’m going home to Chicago so I’m not complaining…much. Considering for the last two weeks, I’ve been working three days a week and slacking off the remaining four, I can’t be too mad. Gloating while the fiancé is struggling to get out of bed at 8 am every morning, chuckling while friends gripe about deadlines, long hours, and office gossip yours truly was rolling over scratching her left butt cheek hugging the pillow. Oh well, the mini vacation is over. Back to the trenches I go.

I have to get out to see Snakes on a Plane for no reason other than it’s stupid, thus funny in my eyes. And did I mention how much I like Sam-U-El Jackson? Not Samuel. But Sam-U-El. Gotta break it up into syllables. They robbed him of his Oscars. Knowing damn well he should have gotten several for playing the crack head in Jungle Fever. *sigh* The Oscars committee wouldn’t know good acting like that if it bit them on the ass.

I also realized that he has been in a lot of f*cking movies. I swear I saw him standing behind Scar in The Lion King. Sh*t I can’t knock his hustle though, sh*t a movie is not a movie without Sam-U-El. But damn he has his fingers in a lot of movies.

YES they deserved to die….AND I hope they burn in hell!!!

My all time favorite movie quote.

I was so mad yesterday I forgot to tell yall about the transgendered **I was rudely informed that “transvestite” is a derogatory term…sheesh who knew gays was so damn sensitive? I meant no harm, of course** individual I saw yesterday. And if I had snapped out my trance I would have snapped a picture so you can see if for yourself.

Come to think of it maybe that’s why CUTIE’s fine ass brother had his face all scrunched up because the person was right next to us. But I wasn’t paying attention until he/she walked away. Well I was but not to the face.

CUTIE has chased me half way down the street because I had my I-Pod on and wasn’t paying attention as usual. I usually keep my headphones blasting as to block out sound and to avoid talking to people. Yeah when I’m in a f*cked up mood the last thing I feel like is conversation so I tune the world out.

He pays his cable bill in the area. For some reason Black folks are scared to cross the bridge to come into Virginia if they live in DC. I heard it’s the strict laws in VA or something but he crosses the bridge to either work or pay his cable bill. The Comcast in DC I heard keeps horrible hours and are just sh*tty anyway so folks come over in VA to pay their bill. I’ve never ran into him before paying my cable bill but I usually pay the bill way before it’s due so I’m never in the neighborhood around this time. But I was lazy during my days off and didn’t feel like trekking to the cable company.

And I was mad about banging my damn leg on that f*cking cable box. And that sh*t hurts.

Now we’re talking, basically getting everything out in the open. I’m flattered by his words but then again I’m engaged and like I said, DC men generally turn me off. Besides I’m not a punk, I wanted to say what I had to say *again* in person and not via phone or texting. So he’s eyeing the ring and then I guess something catches his attention behind me. I kind of glance back sh*t I’m from the Chi and although this is a great neighborhood you can never be careful. He glances at me, make a head nod and he exchanges a glance at the chocolate dreamboat he calls a brother.

You know the glance. The sh*t that you don’t even have to say because you’re both thinking the same thing.

So he’s still making the jerking head notion like “Look at this” and I’m assuming a hot ass mess is coming up the street so I turn my head.

I was looking at some of the prettiest breasts in the world.

No lie. No homo or whatever phrase used to signify that you’re completely heterosexual but it was true.

From the neck down, I was floored. And instantly jealous. I’m always talking about my lack of mammatory glands on my blog and how I wished I had bigger breasts. This person had the breasts I always wanted. And I’m not a lesbian *although they hit on me all the time* and I don’t make a habit of gawking at ladies’ bodies * so not to send off the wrong signals to the wrong folks* but I can appreciate a woman who has a fantastic shape. I don’t have a problem complimenting anyone. Sh*t if you look slamming, I will say it. No malice. No side line hating. No sarcasm. I just call it what it is. Apparently that’s not what’s hot in DC. *shrugs*

Low cut shirt, shirt so low I knew she didn’t have on a bra. Breasts just sitting up like “Hello, How you doing?” and portrayed the ideal cleavage. She had to be at least a 34C, 36C tops but them b*tches were just gorgeous. Screamed for attention. Once again no bra.

I’m so captivated by her breasts, I almost didn’t notice the dog. Keep in mind, not once did I look at the face. I had to stop staring at her chest otherwise I was going to have to get some pamphlets entitled “Are You Gay?”, “You and your Sexuality”, “10 Signs You May Be a Lesbian”. Hmm I wonder if that’s how big breasts women feel when men just stare at their breasts and not their face. I don’t ever have to wonder about that myself since a man isn’t looking at much so he has no choice but to focus on my face.

OK, let me stop before Dr. T Cas analyzes me as an undercover lesbian. Dammit I’m still President of the “I Heart Penis” Club. Just renewed my lifetime membership and everything. Has the T Shirt in pink glitter too.

She had one of those cute little dogs that cost at least $700. Fluffy and golden and wearing a cute little pink sweater. I really do feel for the poor animals whose owners dress them up knowing its 90 degrees out and a sweater plus all fur equals an uncomfortable animal. Sometimes the animals look so pitiful, like “Please put me out my misery”, eyes downcast embarrassed that as a male dog he’s wearing a pink sweater with glitter and reindeers all over it. Knowing he is not getting any play looking like that. But I will admit this dog was cute in his miniature sweater. I jumped at first because I saw a flash of gold and for some reason I thought of “golden rat” *sh*t VA got rats just like everyone else* but it was the dog.

I heart animals so instantly I’m patting and cooing at the dog. Thinking of ways to knock out ol’ girl and take the dog and run. Eyeing the loose bricks by the church and scanning the streets for witnesses. CUTIE and his brother, eh they’re expendable. Plus I know like typical Black folks, when I run I know they asses will run automatically.

Now meanwhile CUTIE and his brother are speechless. They’re giving me the “Are you serious?” face. I’m misinterpreting thinking that they were checking old girl out, I mean those breasts could make Mary weep, and wanted a “female’s” input. And I also thought they figured since her breasts were out for the world to see that I would be a “typical” female and start hating or make snide remarks about her attire.

I’m thinking more like “I should take a picture of those so if I ever lose my mind and actually decide to get plastic surgery, those are the tits that I want!”

And I’m still thinking of clubbing her with a brick and swiping the dog.

Only when “she” scoops to pick up the dog to put it in the doggy carrier because her bus was coming do I catch a glimpse of the face.

A man’s face. More specifically a man’s face in a cheap Blond wig. I could se f*cking face stubble!

So a b*tch is speechless. Mouth gaping, I stare as “she” sashay on the bus. CUTIE and his brother sees my expression and cracks the f*ck up.

Me: Was that…a man?

CUTIE: Sh*t you didn’t know?! Why do you think I was trying to get your attention?

Me: Naw that wasn’t a man, maybe just an ugly female, but not a man…right?

CUTIE’s Brother: Look. That was a man. Nigga had a mustache!

**LAUGHTER**

Me: But the breasts…the shape…man that was a woman! She was just ugly as shit in the face…and umm yeah some women has facial hair, sh*t they just shave it! I refuse to believe the best breasts I have ever seen on a woman in fact belong to a man!

**LAUGHTER**

CUTIE: Baby girl, you’re in denial. That was a man. Sh*t this neighborhood is full of them! I thought you knew…You thought that was a woman for real…Did you look at the face?!

Me: Hell naw I wasn’t looking at the face! All I saw were the tits and the f*cking dog! Hell f*cking naw. Damn…I should have gotten to number to his plastic surgeon then.

**LAUGHTER**

We stood there and laughed for a minute. I couldn’t believe it. I was mad about the cheap ass wig, I can forgive that, but the chest?

I know there are transgendered men and women out there but damn! I’m mad I didn’t snap a picture so everyone could see it. A woman’s shape, form, but a man’s head. After getting over my initial denial, I couldn’t lie. It was a man’s head on a woman’s body.

I was too through after that. I had to rest my damn eyes. MY f*cking tits resting on some man’s chest!

And that was my encounter with the transgendered individual walking around with Tenacious’ titties on his chest.

Conclusion of Tenacious Crappy Thursday....

Update of my sh*tty day:

Since I couldn’t go back to sleep I decided to get up and run some errands and of course pay the cable bill.

Thought I lost my ATM card...Turns out it was at home...In the drawer. Blame the early on-set of Alzheimer's. I never take it out my wallet but apparently this time I switched it with one of my credit cards. So I'm at the ATM and I'm digging around for my card. Can't find it so I go into the bank and talk to a teller. I didn't want to cancel the card just yet partly because I didn't want to wait 7-10 business days for a new one and since there haven't been any new transactions since the last time I used the card **two weeks ago** I figured I misplaced it. Of course the first thing I thought was someone swiped it and you know I was going to be kicking ass and taking names later, but my fiance' found it in the condoms drawer. Why it was in the condom drawer and not the other drawer I don't know but I was relieved to find it after I was walking around pissed about my ATM card. So it's back in the wallet.

Banged my f*cking leg trying to lug the cable box back to the cable company. The fiancé doesn’t want digital anymore, no biggie, I’ll just free load off of someone else’s.

Was eye f*cked by several dirty old men which made me snap. You’re, like, old enough to be Jesus grand-daddy talking about, “Hey sweet thang…”

Button popped off my favorite shirt. Does that mean my breasts are getting bigger or that b*tch just shrunk in the wash?

Ran into CUTIE leaving the cable place. If I didn't already know that he paid his bill there already I would think he was stalking me. We made small talk and lawd why is his older brother fine as sh*t? A creamy chocolate dream and dammit I discovered this AFTER I kicked CUTIE to the curb? But I don’t think his brother liked me too much, he was giving off the “stank face” and his face is too pretty to be screwed up like that. I’m sorry your brother doesn’t have “IT” but he was looking really cute today. Really cute. Oh well.

I finally got around to buying those dumb ass plane tickets. I need to stop stalling on buying plane tickets. These were $262 this time. And my f*cking flight leaves at 5:40 am on Sunday. Pissed me off. F*cking terrorists is f*cking up my flight routine. Before, not only did I leave for the airport 45 minutes before my flight but I didn’t check luggage. I used to work at Dulles and lawd the way we treated those bags was crazy. Due to that, I never check luggage if I can. Now I have no choice too, that is unless I’m willing to part with my lotions, toothpaste, perfume and mouthwash which I am not. Not to mention the long lines that is sure to ensure. Now I have to leave at least 2 hours before my flight if I hope to get back to DC. And f*cking Midway is already a pain in the ass without security precautions!

Of course people are clamoring for my time but I had to let a few people know, I come home for the family. My family get majority of my time, you know I can’t pull away from my niece and nephew, and what ever is left over, it’s kicking it time. It’s only so much I can do on the weekend when I come home so if you see me, good, if not better luck next time.

And this weekend is the big sit down with the family to discuss wedding plans. They think they have some ideas but they have another thing coming. This is my wedding and only the people I want *ok aside from the groomsmen* will march down that aisle. They’re trying to push that my cousin and I whom I haven’t spoken to since I was 19 should be in my wedding. Yeah aiight. Keep dreaming. Blood is thicker than water but I don’t f*ck with the sociopathic, pathological lying, spiteful, hateful bitch. When she goes to therapy, then we’ll talk.

After seeing CUTIE and I guess giving him the closure he needed although he did look like a sad puppy dog and he kept eyeing my ring like it was a doomsday device, that’s all he stared at was my ring. When my hand moved so did his eyes. I thought he was going to jack me the way he was following the ring’s movement. I guess he thought I was just bullsh*tting until he saw the ring.

And when blogger stop acting weird, I’ll post a picture of the ring. For some reason when it does allow me to upload a picture, it replaces any picture from the previous post with the current one. Really annoying and frustrating.

Stubbed my toe stepping off the curb…I should sue Arlington County.

I’m breaking out again. Damn adolescent acne! I think it’s stress.

Wanted McDonalds…It was closed. Who the f*ck closes a McDonald’s at 5 pm? So I’m kicking the door mad because I could just taste that McChicken sandwich which of course will go to my ass and then further stretch the stretch marks that is slowly mapping its way around the booty. Ass is so greasy from the cocoa butter I obsessively slather on, it squeaks when I sit down.

I also need some sex.

Damn final and job is f*cking up my dick schedule!

Hmmm…maybe that’s my problem. I’m sexually frustrated. I’m also grumpy when I go without sex for more than a couple of days. I need the stimulation. And thanks Dr. T for your analysis but its not just a male body in the bed that helps me sleep…honestly it’s anybody. I had a king size bed in high school **blame the tosser and turning in me** and my two female best friends and I would always sleep in my bed. Cold feet, snoring, and the occasional smack on the nose by someone’s hand aside, I had good sleep.

I admit, sometimes when I’m home, I crawl in the bed with my mother and go to sleep. She hates it of course but she never complains. There are dozen of pictures of me knocked out next to my “kids”. Of course the kid is usually wide awake, thus furthering my claim of “When I go to sleep…You better go to sleep otherwise it’s holla back at least for a little while”.

And here I go, like a giggly school girl, I have a slight crush on one of my neighbors. I know I know, I’m a foot away from the alter talking about crushes but alas it’s a small one. Don’t worry I’m still going to be dragged down the aisle kicking and screaming **complete with pictures** and nothing is going to come of it, of course, but sh*t I can still window shop. *lol* I can still dream...*lol* before I'm locked down in holy matrimony.

I talked to my best friend and she ragged on me for being soft. She promise she’ll try to stay out of harm’s way and she was a little stunned to hear about me crying over her but that’s my b*tch. I told her she has to stick around so our adopted kids *lol* could grow up together and I force her to wear a hideous dress and pair up with the worst looking groomsman and vice versa for me. She’s been my rock for so long, it’s crazy. One of few people who I let into my inner circle and know more about me…than well me. Well almost. I still have my skeletons in the closet that she doesn’t know about. She’s never judgmental and she gives it to me straight, no chaser. Lets me know point blank when I’m f*cking up and set me back on the right road.

I love my b*tch.

Well maybe today isn’t all that bad…I think I just need a good night’s sleep and some good night penis and I’ll be straight in the morning.

That’s my best remedy. At least until I’m married and supposedly the sex dries up….hmm maybe I’ll have a sexy mailman or UPS guy or something….

I Need A Nap....

I had a rough night folks.

A very rough night so chances are I’m about to be grumpy today.

Tuesday, I had an f*cking great day. One of the best days in a long time. I relaxed *lol like I do that all the time* and really let myself go. Later I went shopping. Yes I know, I’m a whore to the Mall.

I was a little teed at first because my curse and obsession, my computer, was doing little weird things so it had to go in the shop for a day due to the fact that Gateway is no f*cking help whatsoever and since I’m not a computer geek, I couldn’t exactly tell him in tech-terms what the f*ck was wrong with it. Sh*t it kept booting up on its own **creepy computer time**, gibberish would sprout up and then it would click off. And finally it just wouldn’t turn on at all. Turns out to be a glitch somewhere in the computer. The guy tried to explain it but I guess he could tell by my bored expression that I could give an f*ck less, just hand over my baby. You know I just about died without my computer right? And *sigh* the library has gotten so strict, who knew I couldn’t look at porn at the library? Sheesh at least I’m doing something constructive *lol* Me without internet? Are you f*cking serious? And it’s only so much my phone could explore so a b*tch had some catching up to do.

I went shopping. Didn’t really need to but I bought a slamming red bag which I heart to death and will wear it with everything if I could get away with it. I also received a fabulous orange bag courtesy of the boyfriend…err fiancé my badd still new to me…that matches an orange dress *I know usually not my color, bright ass colors look odd on me, but I loved the cut of the dress and couldn’t resist and gasp I look nice in orange…well at least in this dress* I just bought exactly. He thought of me and the orgasm I nearly had in the dressing room when I tried the dress on, and bought it. Isn’t that sweet? And who says men doesn’t pay attention?

And some great jeans. Make my ass look like Buffie the Body….well at least in the fitting room it did.

Had a well rested sleep and got up Wednesday ready to take chances, make mistakes and get messy *Ok so I’ve been watching the Magic School Bus as well…so sue me…*

Got dolled up to go to a going away party for a co-worker whose starting a fabulous life in New York. Well she’s going to graduate school in upstate New York but I wish her well. She’s extremely intelligent and plan on focusing her studies into research for helping with the AIDS epidemic in Africa. Pretty deep stuff.

And Wednesday was a monumental day in the life of the oh so vain Tenacious.

I caused my first fender bender.

And no my ass didn’t walk out in traffic on a green light *as I am prone to doing thank god no one has ran my black ass over yet…while I remain obliviously chatting on my cell phone or texting like no tomorrow* but some guy was so captivated by me he slammed into another car.

No one was hurt and neither car was damaged that bad but still…I have to smirk.

Ok and so my obnoxiously short skirt was blown up Marilyn Monroe style by the wind and dude got a peek at my panties….but still…stopping traffic is stopping traffic right?

I felt a little bad because he was cute and after gawking for a second, I went on about my business and I was embarrassed because my skirt blew up but I did have on boy shorts so it’s not like he got a peek of the whole ass but a lot of people saw my skirt blow up and hell he shouldn’t have been gawking anyway.

But still…I stopped traffic *lol*

Had a good laugh about that later on.

So I’m having a good Wednesday even though my computer was being operated on…Until later on.

Of course I get back from the party and since you know I stuffed my face…fell victim to the “itis” and fell asleep. I napped for quite a while. Woke up and I had about 10 texts messages. Half were from LIGHT BRIGHT and the other half was from CUTIE. Now LIGHT BRIGHT didn’t want anything, just random movie quotes that he like to send me for a laugh. CUTIE on the other hand, was desperate to meet up. Of course I had five missed calls from him to correspond with the texts.

Damn a b*tch can’t sleep for three hours peacefully without some sh*t.

Before I could call him back, mainly to lay the smack down, house phone rings. I pick up without looking at the caller id.

It’s the fiancé’s frat brother who I loathe because he is a using piece of trash who only calls when he wants something. And did I mention he’s a user? A person is only as useful to him based on what you can do for him and how can he benefit? Plus he’s a jerk.

Somehow he found out I worked for a hotel and what a coincidence he needs a hotel room in September and lo and behold he wants to use my discount to get a room.

Of course I told him “hell f*cking no.” I don’t f*ck with him at all, nigga ain’t never had one nice thing to say about me, but oh he wants to be buddy buddy because he somehow *did I mention he’s also a ferret for information? Nigga does his research, sh*t probably know your job better than you do…If it benefits him that is* found out I can stay at the hotel he would like to stay at for $49…a night. Hotel sells for at least $399 during the week. Hell of a discount right?

He basically tried to boguard me out of my f*cking discount! Even went as far as thinly veiled threats. Yeah he’s also a little crazy. No one sees that of course but me. Now we’re both two Taurus’s and I think we’re both on the wrong end of the spectrum as far as our zodiac sign…so you know what that meant?

Curse Out City. Of course he passed “F*ck You Nigga” Blvd. on the way.

But I will admit, this nigga is Tenacious. He figures he can’t get me to do it, so why not the fiancé? You know, get me to lean a little bit to see things his way. This meant blowing up my fiancé’s phone. He’s already leery of this brother and it’s a damn shame they’re line brother and he avoids this nigga like he owes him money because he’s hip to this ways *he just doesn’t see the nigga as nuts like I do….he calls him “intense”* so of course when he doesn’t pick up his phone…as the only time he calls is when he needs or want something…the email war began.

From what I jest, he began sending out spiteful emails to folks about us…well namely me…You know it’s not brotherly to call your line brother “suss”…and how “we’re” *me again* bogus as hell and all this foolishness.

Guess what that meant as well….about four or five Kappas calling my crib trying to get me to change my mind…namely to shut his ass up. I’ve noticed folks give in to him namely to shut him the f*ck up, which of course he uses like a crutch but he forgot who the f*ck he’s dealing with.

Several “NOs” down the line of course. He hasn’t given up yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if he forged my signature or something.

So now I’m pissed about that. I don’t make it a habit of looking for “hook ups”. That’s just not my thing. I don’t go into my friends’ jobs and demand they give me their discount. If they do, you know that’s good, good looking out. But I never ask for it. I know they have a way of tracking that sh*t and why should he/she lose their job because of a crappy 15% discount? And granted I don’t mind hooking up my friends at all but not every damn day and damn sure not if you demand that I give you my discount! And it’s different in the tourism industry. Your friends or family go and clown somewhere and best believe either I’ll get fired or lose my f*cking discount! And sh*t I like staying at other properties for the cheap! Why pay 2, 3, 400 dollars when I can pay less than half, hell less than half depending on where I go.

And he’s a diva. He is not going to be snapping at folks at the Front Desk and Monday I get called into the RM’s office.
And besides…I don’t like his ass anyway so that’s a straight hell no.

Sh*t I don’t even want him as a groomsman.

So I’m steamed about that and guess who called…CUTIE.

And he felt the wrath left over as well as the wrath for his ass blowing up my phone. I felt semi-bad cursing him out but sh*t I know he won’t be calling me anymore.

Basically he was calling to tell me he couldn’t get me out of his head. Sweet if I didn’t smell game. Game recognizes game. Boo you have a girlfriend. Please focus your energy on her! Yes I know I’m charming. Yes I know I’m not all “bougie” like “DC Girls” *whatever the hell that means…*. Yes I know I cute. Tell me something I don’t know. And I’m sure you can be a better man than my boyfriend…Yeah the same guy who got his d*ck sucked in the bathroom by some broad at the club. Real charming. Damn I’m surprised chicks ain’t beating down your door after that because I just love a man who has no qualms about sticking his dick down the throat of some female he just met. Exactly what I look for in a man.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s cute and when the conversations don’t drift into the “lewd” category and if I was a different type of girl I would probably be repulsed but he doesn’t have the “IT” factor. He’s a nice guy and all but DC men are too f*cking wimpy for me. Like eager puppies or something. Too quick to agree to any terms and just, well, let an individual like me dog walk all over them. Just talk to them any ol’ way and they just, well, take it. Even the so-called “thuggish” ones. A “fuck you nigga” and “I’ll beat the fuck outta you, you better step off” and the guys are giving me my 10 feet. I guess women don’t talk all that gutter here. Sure I get the “Fuck you bitch..You weren’t cute anyway”…but only after I’m a safe distance away. And what do I do?

Laugh. Hard.

So he was alright until this “baby baby please…” routine of his turned me the f*ck off. Man the f*ck up. Leave that cake sh*t in the bakery where it belongs. Especially if you have someone already.

So I’m restless. Watching TV. Bored out of my skull. My fiancé had to study for his finals so he left me all alone in the house. No internet. With Attack Cat. We rattle around the house like two marbles in a can.

Finally around 2 am, I nod off. But I can’t sleep. Can’t get into a comfortable position. Room is nice and chilly but I feel like I’m burning up. Pillows too lumpy. Too soft. Too hard. And since my knees act up from time to time, I slept with a pillow in between my legs to alleviate the discomfort and even then I was uncomfortable. And just when I feel myself drifting into a deep slumber, the fiancé comes home. Feel like he must have opened every damn cabinet in the f*cking kitchen to get a glass and slammed them shut. Just f*cking rattling around the house.

Was I wrong to scream, “Would you just sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up”?

But he knows me. He knows generally I’m grumpy when I’m alone in the house. I hate sleeping in an empty ass house. I always need someone around in order to sleep. Is that weird? I think so. Even as a kid, I couldn’t sleep without knowing someone is in the house with me. And I sleep the best when someone is in the bed with me. Does that mean I have issues? Dr. T Cas….your analysis please?

So I was grumpy needless to say. Look at the clock, its 5 am.

With him in the bed with me, I managed to get a good slumber going. Had a weird dream. My best friend is going back to Iraq in September and I had the horrible image of her dying and me crying at my wedding because one of my matrons of honor is no longer around.

Since I’ve been overly emotional the past couple of days…yeah yeah I’m turning into a softie I know…I blame the f*cking ring, no I could never be mad at that…I was in near tears the other day when I thought I lost my good luck charm…luckily a jogger found them for me…but I burst into tears.

I called her but she didn’t pick up, I’m assuming she was sleep, I’m probably going to get a phone call in a few, which made me cry harder. Of course he slept like the dead as usual.

6 am.

I’m still up, upset, why the f*ck did that pop in my head? I hope He is using me as a prophet or something. I don’t need mental images as they further heighten my paranoid state.

Finally I feel my eyes dropping…f*cking alarm goes off. Fiancé has to get up for work. Reminds me the cable bill is due.

F*ck it, I’m not going to sleep anyways so I get up to check my blogs. Felt like I’m three days behind or something. On a whim, I check my student loan account…why the f*ck does it say I owe $13.05? I know that’s not correct because I schedule my loan payments three months in advance so I don’t forget and the amount has always been $166.19. And I know $166.19 was taken out two weeks ago. I check my statement to be sure. And then I call them.

Oh yeah…I was going to get the letter after the due date **21st of every month** that my loan payments have now been increased to $179.24. Oh but don’t worry, only if my account has been delinquent 60 days will it be reported to the credit bureaus.

So if I never bothered to check, I would have a late fee of $13.05 in addition to the $179.24 that I would owe which means I now have to go and delete the pre-dated arrangements for September, October, and November which all have $166.19 and partly because I never really look at the statement as I know the due dates and amounts, I would have found this out next month but you knew since JULY that my payment amount was going to increase but that sure didn’t stop you from sending me the regular monthly bill.

*sigh*

So I was a little tiffed. Damn the credit bureaus! Stop mentioning that like it makes it all better! It’s only $13.05 but still…I don’t like surprises and I don’t like paying bills late. And this one would have been late if something didn’t tell me to check my account. Damn student loans. Let me hit on Power ball so I can erase yall from my existence.

And great now I can’t pay the bill and change the amounts on my pre-dated payments because there are “technical errors please try again later”.

And not only that, Attack Cat has gnawed on the cable cord. Now I have to get another one.

I seriously woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Hopefully the day will get better.

Maybe I should go back to bed and try again later.

My Weekend....

I’ve had a pretty interesting weekend.

Well, actually I didn’t.

Thursday, the boyfriend and I went out to dinner. Why did he propose? So yes, I am officially a Bridezilla. He stunned the sh*t out of me because I honestly did not see it coming. We on a boat cruise around the Potomac and although I struggled to find something on the menu I would actually eat, I enjoyed myself. I’m a picky eater and I don’t eat a lot of items **surprisingly given my humongous appetite** and the menu was pretty fancy, I did get my first taste of caviar. It’s not as bad as I thought you know. We ordered dessert and next thing you know I see this big ass platter coming our way. Now my greedy ass is thinking, “Damn they give you all that?! I’m ‘bout to max!” as the platter comes my way. The platter is set before me and I see a ring box.

I kid you not, the first thing I thought was, “Damn this ain’t mine…Some nigga is about to be pissed” when I see my boyfriend get on one knee. Everyone around us was quiet as hell while I’m still thinking like, “Damn this is not for me”. Took me a minute to snap out of my stunned trance so I missed his speech. I just heard, “Will you marry me?”

And to prevent from dropping a tear **Tenacious does not do the public crying thing** I started laughing. Yeah that inappropriate laughing again. I started to joke and say “NO” but even I knew it wasn’t joking time.

So I’m officially engaged. Time to bust out the ‘Ripple and Electric Slide.

The wedding is officially a year and a half off. By 2008, I’ll be dragged kicking and screaming down the aisle. What, yall thought I was playing with the age 25 thing? I was dead ass serious. Plus that’s a lot to plan. It will be in Chicago and I want a chocolate cake. Other than that, um yeah I’m at a lost. I have a vague idea of the colors I would like and whom I would like in my wedding but we know I can’t kick the loser friends of his out of my wedding, so we’ll see. It’s still new to me so give me a minute before I can give details. Then yall can read about me bitching about the caterers and the lack of an open bar due to the “alcoholics” in the family, so congrats to me.

Not to my surprise, a few haters have been drawn my way…via Facebook. Some people are not too pleased that we’re getting married. Oh well, sh*t they weren’t invited anyway.

My best friends think I’m not ready, I’m too immature to settle down. They’re half right. I’m not ready, that’s why we’re not getting married right away. But until then, I can wear my sparkly ring and smile.

I died Friday. My f*cking tickets sold out in 10 minutes and your girl was left without a ticket. B*tch was up at 8 am basically for nothing because as soon as I logged on at 9:55 am, the tickets page did not refresh until 10:45 am, by then I had called Ticketmaster, and they informed me the tickets sold out at 10:10 am, it’s a small venue and they weren’t expecting that big of a turn out.

So you know I was in a foul mood all of Friday. Now I’m reduced to stalking and petty theft because I am jacking someone for their tickets. I can’t believe it, my f*cking husband so close and so far away. You know I was pissed.

I went out with my girls from work to celebrate on Friday and boy I guess a ring brings the boys to the yard because they were on a sista. I mean every rip there was some dude in my face talking some type of foolishness. I’m trying to enjoy my drink and someone was tapping me on the shoulder every ten seconds. Or maybe it had to do with the “Bride” tiara that was perched on my head. But whatever. I had to flash the ring about 30 times, not like it did anything, but still, sheesh, give me some air.

I didn’t stay out long this time because I had to be at work in the morning but when I got off of work, of course my sun worshipping ass decided to hang out on my balcony and ended up taking a nap outside. Woke up with a tiny sunburn and a deep tan. Damn bikini lines stood out really good but I was slightly aching from the sunburn on my shoulders. Next time a b*tch is getting some sunblock.

Went out again that night but I made it a movie night with a friend. I finally saw Man of Fire with Denzel and Dakota Fanning. I was surprised at how good the movie actually was and almost found myself dropping a tear at the end of the movie. I was a little sickened at Marc Anthony’s sickly looking ass running with no shirt but I got over that. Check it out if you have a chance.

Went to work on the good old night shift Sunday and Monday, of course dying of boredom both nights. Dealing with guests, random problems going on in the hotel, and numerous arguments about tax exemption in Arlington County.

**sigh**

I know I had a pretty dull weekend.

Talked on the phone with a lot of people, got back in contact with a few people who found out about the engagement, and lounging around like a bum.

And surprise, surprise…I have a new f*cking stalker. Well I won’t call him one just yet but he’s getting to be pretty damn close to one. I’ll just call him an “overeager admirer”. I throw “stalking” around too much.

He has called me at least 5 times a day all week to no avail, sent numerous text messages, and even stopped by my old job.

CUTIE has joined the ranks. How amusing.

I would have never expected him to act so obsessive I guess that goes to show you…You never know. He’s really insistent that we should meet up but since I broke off communications with him in May/June, I haven’t really heard from him until recently. The last time he called me, we had a short conversation but that was it.

Now he’s calling me more than when we were still cool and talking which is a riot to me. I was going to call him back the first day he called me but he had broke my “3 Phone Calls A Day” rule by calling me all damn day so I brushed him off. I hate when people blow up my phone. Damn give me a chance to call you back first, calling me hour after hour is not going to make me roll over and answer my cell any more than I usually would. And he was calling early too, like 7am in the morning. Have he lost it? A b*tch doesn’t answer her phone before 10 am on her days off and that’s if I’m feeling generous. Even sent me a text talking about he’s in Virginia **he lives in DC** and wants to take me out to breakfast. Ummm what makes you think I want to go to breakfast with you? Even twisted his mouth to ask “Could he come over”?

Ummmm…What for?

So I’m at a lost here. People help my dinky ass out. Why the sudden interest? We were cool before, just shoot the breeze on the phone, he would talk about the women he’s banging or whatnot and ask me for the “female” perspective on things and that was it. Why the sudden “love struck” act? Because that’s what he acting like. And the icing on the cake…He has a girlfriend now. So why is he blowing up my phone and not hers? Damn I know I’m charming and sh*t but this has gotten out of hand. I’m amused more than anything and if he thinks doing this will earn his a pass into the Victoria Secrets then he has another thing coming.

I think it’s because I told him I’m engaged. He increased his phone calls ten fold since Thursday.

Men are strange creatures.

**shrugs** Oh well. He was cool while it lasted. He was the closest thing to T.I that I was going to get since he looks like him only with more meat on the bones.

My weekend was ok, how was everyone else’s? Anything fun and exciting?