Monday, January 29, 2007

Weekend Round-Up

I think I am in a serious “kicking it” funk. Why hasn’t spring arrived yet? Damn I am ready for fun and sunshine.

Friday I went to see Smoking Aces with JBN. I don’t know which cast member pissed off a critic but I found the movie to be very enjoyable. Maybe it was the people in the theater that we were with but we laughed a lot during the movie. I didn’t like the ending, it was boxed a little too neatly, but I thought the movie was decent. It was worth my $9 dollars.

Alicia didn’t have that many scenes in the movie but she was looking and sounding good. Unlike some singers *coughBeyoncecough* she was pretty believable as an assassin.

Although…I have to ask. Taraji is a pretty woman and all but whoever does her eyebrows should be slapped and fired. They should not be in the middle of her forehead and shit looking like she’s startled and shit.

And Common? Woo he could have gotten it three times right quick with that his panty creamer voice.

Saturday I went out with the initial outing being going to Lucky Strike for a game of pool and drinks.

I was not that thrilled to go out as I wanted to stay in and relax but I hesitantly agreed. I’m assuming we’re only going to be out for an hour or two.

One thing about me: I do not play when it comes to my impatient streak. If I call/text someone with an invite no reply after a couple of hours means I make other plans. If someone takes too long, I no longer want to go.

We arrive at Lucky Strike and find out it’s closed for a private event.

So we head to H20 instead.

I was a little mad because I wore casual clothing *jeans, script T and boots* instead of my “club wear” but I guess that didn’t matter because niggas were thirsty as shit.

I had to slap quite a few hands from thirsty gropers, curse a few dudes out for grabbing the purse arm, and fight off quite a few advances…and I’m not even in the door!

One guy had the nerve to grab my breasts and knowing I had on the good push up bra under the shirt, he was not about to slide the titties to the side. So I grab his nuts and gave them a good yank.

Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.

I was just not in the mood to party, not even my songs could get me in the mood to do anything more than bob my head to the beat.

We were sitting in VIP and I’m nodding off on the couch.

Although I did see a guy who could double as Etan Thomas. I had to sit up for a hot second and blink because I know Etan was not just roaming through VIP begging to get raped.

Alas, it wasn’t Etan but one of my friend’s friends. Etan Look Alike better be lucky because if he wasn’t cool with the same person I would so ask for dude’s phone number. I mean dude was sexy as shit, had to wipe the drool away for a hot second.

Although I have noticed all sexy, dark skinned dudes with dreads tend to favor one another. Not a bad thing, of course, but unless the dreads are a different length, I can’t tell sexy men with dreads apart.

But dude was banging though.

Finally it was time to go and I received more of the same perverted gestures as I tried to exit the club. Do men really not know when a woman yanks her hand away that means she is not interested?

Or touching on me is bound to get you slapped?

I was getting groped wearing regular street clothes more than when my breasts and ass is half hanging out for the world to see. *shrugs* Go figure.

Maybe I am getting too old for the club scene.

I relaxed on Sunday doing some of my favorite past times *lol*

And now it is Monday and I am at work *sigh* Shaping up to be a better week than last week.

Maybe because we have a Christian conference in the hotel. You know I’m on my best behavior *lol*

I have to get into heaven some way.

But…Is it wrong that I’m thinking some of these priests could be the same priests out molesting children? I felt a few of them giving me looks that were less than Christian *lol*

I’m also hoping none of them are the “converting” kind. I hate to be the rude type and tell them I’m not very interested right now in hearing the “Word”. You know Jehovah’s have turned me off from polite listening.

I’m hoping someone has some communion wine, you know 1st Sunday is around the corner *lol*

Ok, let me stop before I am struck down by God.

Get thee behind me Satan.

Have a great week everyone, hope your weekend went well.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Friday Couldn't Come Quick Enough...

I am so glad this week is over.

My weekend officially begins and I won’t have to think of that place that I call a job until Monday.

*sigh* All week I had a I QUIT this bitch! moment.

So serious, I felt like walking out the door and never coming back.

It was an “If Someone Pissed in Your Cornflakes That Morning Please Talk to Tenacious *Who Has the Patience of a Three Year Old* and Make Sure to Be Extra Loud, Dramatic, Rude, and IGNORANT” day every single day this week.

Had to get quite crunk at work several times because people wanted to get extra loud with me and that is one thing you do not do.

Lesson #3- Maintain Low Tones With Me.

Please do not raise your voice if my voice is not raised especially because you hear something you do not like.

I guess it doesn’t help that Aunt Flow was hanging around this week as well and I was very moody.

Monday was JBN’s birthday. I told him he’s one year closer to rounding to 30. Of course I was reminded that I will soon have the same fate in May.

I took him to a nice restaurant, Tallula’s, and we had a great time. The food was excellent there and although he was the birthday boy, I got a free cocktail from the waiter. Go figure. They had duck on the menu and the waiter was a little pressed to get us to try it but duck is not on my menu. Only birds that I eat are chicken and turkey. No damn duck. But a great restaurant, I would recommend it to anyone who lives in the area.

I told him he gets, like, three months of straight gifts. Christmas is December, birthday in January, and our anniversary in February.

I am Queen of Last Minute Gift Buying.

At work I am considered weird because I don’t watch the coveted shows such as “24, Grey’s Anatomy, American Idol, and Prison Break.”

I mean folks talk about those shows like they’re the soaps. I mean really discussing these people lives like they personally know them. That’s all I hear at lunch and it’s always a shocked gasp when I mention I did not watch that but I did watch “Dirt” last night and that was the shit.

“Dirt” is officially MY TV show for the year. I never miss an episode.

It’s not that I don’t watch the shows because I don’t like them. It’s mainly my work schedule. I’m usually at work when those shows come on. And since they have several seasons under the belt I feel lost when I do watch the show. I hate watching a show and I don’t know the background information about the characters.

People ask my opinions on a lot of shit on these shows and their stars but since my answers are usually not “kosher” or nonchalant, they’ve stopped asking my opinion. I mean for the most part I’m either “what’s the big deal” or “who cares”?

I spoke to my best friends this week, I’ve been dodging their calls because they’ve been calling me during my naptime but FH is alive and well in Iraq she should be home in July and TWIN may head to Japan for two years.

Konichiwa bitches

We had to play catch-up because I haven’t spoken to them since around New Years. Fun times on the phone.

We’re waiting for R Kelly to go back to the days of the bald head and leather vest lurking in the background of the video with his dark shades since we’ve heard the remix of “Promise” by Ciara.

It is still so wrong on so many levels that he is still doing songs with Ciara. Am I the only one slightly disturbed by this? I mean was bad enough on her first cd he’s crooning “Don’t say no baby/not right now baby/I want you to be my lady/you got me going crazy” but singing on another track where she’s basically promising to give up the ass?

I wonder is Ciara is aware of his reputation? Does she not remember his history? Better yet his perchance for the golden shower?

Better yet the classic “Rapist” song *as I dub it* from, “Don’t You Say No” where he basically sings how some unfortunate chick *probably a teenager* is going to give up the ass simply because he took her to the Cheesecake Factory and fronted the bill.

Like many of R Kelly’s song, once you actually listen to the lyrics, you know you’re dealing with a strange individual. “Trapped in the Closet”, “Sex in the Kitchen” anyone?

I am old. 95% of the songs on the radio I have no idea who the artists are. Back in the day all I needed to hear was the beat and I knew the song, artists and can even replay the video in my mind. Now…I’m like “Who is this?”, “What and the hell is he saying?” and of course “This is a piece of shit song”.

I’ll still dance to it at the clubs *lol* but it’s a quick pause and reference check before I continue to sway to the music.

Of course 95% of the music on the radio is crap anyway.

Although…Chris Brown’s “Popping” is my current cut. Don’t let that song come on while I’m driving, I’m swerving all over the road warbling out the lyrics. You know I am in my own world when I am listening to music.

Smoking Aces comes out today and I will be going to see it regardless. If for nothing other than Common and hopefully a scene with no shirt *or pants* but it looks like a good movie.

Other than getting the fuck away from work at three and the movies tonight, I don’t have any definite plans this weekend. I want to go to the Spy Museum on Saturday but that’s only if I roll out of bed in time.

I hate the winter. I am so unmotivated to leave the house.

When is spring again? That’s when the real fun starts.

Have a great weekend everyone

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Another Meme

**Swiped from HONEY'S***

Are you a bad influence?

[x]1. smoked.
[x]2. consumed alcohol.
[x]3. slept in the same bed with someone of the opposite sex.
[x]4. slept in the same bed with someone of the same sex.
[ ]5. kissed/had sex with someone of the same sex (it was just a kiss lol)
[x]6. had sex.
[x]7. had someone in your room other than family.
[x]8. watched porn.
[x]9. bought porn or a sex toy.
[x]10. done drugs. (Just Weed. And maybe some lines of GS Cookies and Sweet Tea)

[x]1. taken painkillers
[x]2. taken someone else's prescription medicine. (it was generic Tylenol)
[x]3. lied to your parents.
[x]4. lied to a friend.
[x]5. snuck out of the house.
[x]6. done something illegal.
[x]7. cut yourself. (Fucking razors. I am sooo sticking to Nair!)
[x]8. hurt someone. (Ummm….I plead the 5th)
[x]9. wished someone to die. (Almost daily! But I don't REALLY mean it!)
[x]10. seen someone die.

[x]1. missed curfew.
[x]2. stayed out all night.
[x]3. eaten a carton of ice cream by yourself.
[x]4. been to a therapist.
[ ]5. been to rehab.
[ ]6. dyed your hair.
[x]7. received a ticket.
[x]8. been in an accident.
[x]9. been to a club.
[x]10. been to a bar.

[x]1. been to a wild party.
[ ]2. been to Mardi Gras.
[x]3. drank more than four drinks in a night.
[x]4. had a spring break in Florida.
[x]5. sniffed anything. (NOT drugs!)
[x]6. role played. (Naughty student/Freaky Teacher…funny real teachers have fucked that up for everyone!)
[ ]7. went out without underwear.
[x]8. wore a rapper's line of clothes/shoes.
[x]9. listened to rap.
[x]10. own a 50 Cent CD. (I liked Get Rich or Die Trying…)

[ ]1. dressed gothic.
[x]2. dressed prep.
[x]3. dressed hip-hop/urban.
[x]4. dressed slutty. (Um 85% of my wardrobe…duh! LOL)
[x]5. stole something. (hey I was a kid!)
[x]6. been too drunk to remember anything.
[x]7. blacked out.
[x]8. fainted.
[x]9.had a crush on a neighbor.
[x]10. had someone sneak into your room.

[x]1. snuck into someone else's room.
[] 2. had a crush on your best friend.
[x]3. been to a concert.
[x]4. dry-humped someone.
[x]5. been called a slut.
[x]6. called someone a slut.
[ ]7. installed speakers in your car.
[x]8. broken a mirror.
[x]9. showered at someone of the opposite sex's house.
[ ]10. brushed your teeth with someone else's toothbrush.

[ ]1. consider/considered Ludacris your favorite rapper.
[x]2. seen an R-rated movie in theater.
[x]3. cruised the mall.
[x]4. skipped school.
[] 5. had surgery.
[x]6. had an injury.
[x]7. gone to court.
[] 8. walked out of a restaraunt without paying.
[] 9. caught something on fire.
[x]10. lied about your age.

[x]1. owned/rented an apartment.
[x]2. broke the law in the police's presence.
[x]3. cheated with someone.
[x]4. got in trouble with the police.
[x]5. talked to a stranger.
[x]6. hugged a stranger.
[x]7. kissed a stranger
[x]8. rode in the car with a stranger.
[x]9. been harrassed.
[x]10. been verbally harrassed.

[x]1. met face-to-face with someone you met online.
[x]2. stayed online for 12 hours straight.
[x]3. talked on the phone for more than 4 hours straight.
[ ]4. watched TV for 12 hours straight.
[x]5. had sex with someone within 12 hours of meeting them.
[x]6. been called a bad influence.
[ ]7. drink and drive.
[x]8. prank-called someone.
[x]9. laid on a couch with someone of the opposite sex.
[x]10. cheated on a test.

Now, count up all your scores and that is how much of a bad influence you are!

I am a 75....So I may be a tad bit of a bad influence...but just a little *lol*

***So how was that BIGGER for a short Post? AND I had words to spare! what can I get you to do?

Hey Bigger

Kiss My Beautiful Ass.

Monday, January 22, 2007

A Semi-Sentimental Piece...

I’m sure everyone has some of these. Filed away in old shoe boxes, collecting dust on the top shelf in the closet or stored in the basement with childhood treasures you’ve managed to salvage from the garbage can.

Scrawled in childish script or the loopy cursive that my friends and I used to call “Ghetto Victorian” because sometimes you could hardly decipher the letter because everything had a swoop or swirl. All forms of notebook paper, some turning yellow with age. Not to mention the intricate folding styles which held secrets determined to make it through several hands in 4th period without being intercepted by the teacher.

I’m talking about those old ass LOVE LETTERS you know you’re still holding on to!

Ah the written odes of affection from a love struck boy or girl. When you thought you two would last forever. Hell get married and have babies, all while surviving 5th period P.E and bad lunches.

Saturday I had to break out the box of love letters after reading some of TTL’s love letters at his place. Don’t even know how we got on the subject but next thing you know he was digging around on his shelf pulling down his “box” of things.

After showing off his high school year book pictures, he decided to show me the coveted love letters. You know people still guard those letters like they have national secrets in them. Mostly from embarrassment, I think he may have forgotten how mushy those letters were, I guess he wasn't expecting for me to find out someone called him "cupcake" or gushed over the size of his, um, love below and how good he was working it in high school.

Of course, I died laughing at his yearbook pictures. It was complete with Tupac Juice fades for the men and all shapes and forms of the asymmetrical haircuts for the ladies, neon colors *even black and white photos couldn’t hide those fuchsia off the shoulder shirts, nut cruncher shorts *back when men rocked the Dukes just as well as the females AND were NOT considered gay*, and a whole slew of fashion atrocities that I am glad I was too young to throw on my young body for I knew I would probably fall victim to the horror that was “Puffy Sleeve” dress.

I, unfortunately, fell victim to the “Puff Puff” ponytail, horrible turtlenecks *with ruffles*, matching corduroy pants *had them in every color*, and the infamous “Petticoat” party dresses that made me look like I was a hooker from some saloon in the 1840s.

And let's not get into the finger waves and French rolls, bang swoops, "fan" ponytails, and biker shorts rocked with British Knights of my pre-teen years.

*shudder* One of these days I'm going to post some pictures from my early years. You have been warned in advance. *lol*

*sigh* But you could not tell my mother her little girl was not doing it. I was so glad when she got hip and let me rock “Jodeci Boots” *complete with neon band-aids*, terrycloth coats *Little Mermaid* and my coveted “OPP” jacket. You were just a lame if you didn't have one in several colors. I think I had Black, Red, Purple, and Pink.

Shit rocked with my LA Gear light ups, I was the hottest thing in the 5th grade.

Hot pink snow suit aside. I'm still in therapy over that damn snowsuit.

I was styling for the ’93. But still had to be in bed by 9:00 on school nights *lol*

But ah yes the love letters. I mean I don’t know what he was doing in high school but he had the ladies in his high school on HIGH alert. Freshman messing with seniors? Are you serious?! As a freshman I was avoiding eye contact with the cutest seniors *although I used to scrawl their names in my notebook, hey I could dream* and back when a 14 year old girl messing with a 19 year old male was still a cause of concern in many households.

R. Kelly just fucked that shit all up.

*yes TTL I’m going to embarrass you, partly because I know you can’t comment LOL but it's all in good fun*

I won’t go into details because I protect the innocent on my blog but let’s just say they were highly amusing but oh so heartfelt. And girls were freaky as hell where he was from. Giving it up in the bathroom during lunch and shit, I mean really, not during “Steak-Um” day in the cafeteria. That was the best day! Folks were too geeked for lunch period to start. Fights would start in the cafeteria if anyone dared cut in line during "Steak-Um" day. Mess around and lose a tooth and get bust in the eye with a combination lock.

But then again I went to the type of high school where people got busy any where they could. Dark auditorium, the music room, boys’ locker room, behind the bleachers…You name it; best believe a sticky spot existed.

This brought me to my own personal stash of love letters. And not to brag but I have a lot. They’re all mainly from the same guy but that’s not the point.

If I was chuckling and blushing from the letters I have, I can only imagine what foolishness I wrote back. I swear I think I’m going to break into a few homes and find some boxes and burn those suckers.

I can’t get famous and those letters come back and smack me in my face. I mean if folks are having a field day roasting Lindsay Lohan’s and Britney Spear’s old school papers, I can only imagine what they would do to my love letters.

Of course you probably couldn’t read my handwriting as it was in the “Ghetto Victorian”. And let’s not get on the colored pens. I loved a colored pen with a passion. I was always getting in trouble for turning in my homework in pink, purple, and green ink.

Shit Lisa Frank was the shit back in the day, I was 16 walking around with a damn unicorn and stars folder and shit.

But then again I see teenage guys walking around with fucking Dora the Explorer book bags looking like a damn fool. Makes me want to slap the hell out of one every time I’m on the Metro. Is that what’s cool now? “Thug” ass niggas rocking the Strawberry Shortcake book bag on the way to their probation officer looking like they jacked a pre-schooler on the way to school.

But I can pretty much guess what I probably said. Starting with the “Hey what’s up” *complete with the arrow pointing up* to the question that you ask but answer for him in the next sentence *How you doing? Fine…*, Of course usually I’m stuck in some class that’s boring *And I wonder why I can’t add/subtract to this day, all those damn notes I wrote during Pre-Calculus when I should've been studying those equations*, of course a recap of the previous night’s phone conversation or some other conversational piece, sometimes something graphic *for a high schooler, I wasn’t into porn yet*, of course if he hit third base already or we got a little frisky some point in the week I mention that, then some random piece of gossip, and then I end it with some nickname that I know damn well he has never called me a day in his life *Cupcake, Honey Bun…funny all my so-called pet names revolve around food LOL*

Of course capping off with a W/B/S and lots of hugs and kisses.

I think mine were a little more interesting partly because I never dated anyone from my school for obvious reasons so I couldn’t pass it to him in class. I had to wait until later that day or something to see him. I remember he would pick me up from school every day. Which was pretty far, he went to an all boy’s Catholic school on 49th and Cottage Grove. My high school was in the 100s. To my Chicago Ladies...Yeah I had one of those guys *lol* When I did pass notes to guys in class it was usually some form of a joke or I was passing a note for another girl. You know one of my friends who “likeded” him and wanted me to serve as the “Go-Between”, phishing out information for her because I was usually cool with the guy.

Usually intercepted at some point and read aloud.

Majority of my letters came from JDUBB of course *with a few from my other ex* and I was howling reading some of his letters. Some were a little graphic for a high school guy now that I think about it but I cherished those letters to death. I would claw out an eyeball if anyone dared touch my letters.

Especially the ones that were a little "R" rated. Couldn't have my moms reading about what happened the day I was supposed to be studying at the library but instead was getting busy in JDUBB's basement *lol*

Don't front like I'm the only one who did that *lol*

It’s funny because reading those letters *and there were a lot, I think we wrote to each other at least 3 times a week* I can pinpoint every breakdown in the relationship.

I mean there were the intense, love letters that even Shakespeare would gag from. I mean an abundance of “cakeness” screamed from those letters. I mean "I love you so much" every other sentence. Comparing one another to the great loves that we read about in English III *lol*. Metaphors that made NO sense whatsoever but at the time I guess we thought we were really "deep".

But there were also the “bad” letters. The “confrontational” letters. And boy toward the end there was a lot. The “such and such told me such and such” and “how could you do this to me”, “I am so mad at you right now”, “why won’t you talk to me, I mean I didn’t appreciate you hanging up the phone on me” and the classic “Fuck you”.

Not to mention the “I can’t believe you threw a brick through my car window” and "Are you fucking nuts?! Don't come on my porch talking crazy"

Umm…well those may have slipped in the stash somehow. I mean I have no idea who he was talking about *lol*

Fuck what you heard. High school relationships were intense.

Come to think of it…I should have used those letters as clues to his madness.

And let’s not get into when we moved from paper to email.

Of course in high school I didn’t use my email accounts as much but during computer class *funny enough we went to different high schools but had the same period for computer class* we would email one another back and forth. Why we didn’t just use IM is beyond me.

And then ultimately I came to the breakup letter(s). You know the 2-3 page *front and back* where one pours their heart out on paper. I mean sure toward the end he began to curse me out but the first page was sweet.

I even found the birthday card I gave him which he gave back to me *we broke up shortly after his birthday* I still can’t believe I brought him a card that said “To my husband…” *shudder*

Was I gone or what?

I don’t remember the dick being that good.

But then again this was high school. Not like I had a lot of men to use as comparison.

But damn those letters took me back. I think I stayed up until about 5 am reading those letters, laughing my head off.

You know JBN and the cat were looking at me like I was crazy.

I debated on whether or not to wake up a couple of friends so we can reminisce but I didn’t want to get cursed out.

I think it’s very sweet of people to keep those types of mementos. It really reassure that you were once *or still* loved by someone other than your family. I mean I have old pen-pals letters in there, which is a riot in itself, but my heart sort of swelled reading those letters.

You know I had to smirk because I knew I was the shit just by reading those letters. Imagine a big, macho guy hunched over his desk sketching little roses in the border or confessing his true feelings for his girl, not embarrassed that some day she will pull those letters out and read them to the amusement of her friends.

He wasn’t the only guy who wrote me love letters *or emails*. There were others. Other guys who I wrote off. A couple of guys I had to really sit and think about whom the hell they were.

A few of my stalkers are in there. Mainly through emails, tucked away in special folders created just for them. One of these days I really have to print those out.

JBN and I weren’t really into the whole love letter thing, I mean in college you have more pressing issues to worry about, like that 10 page paper that you just remembered you had to do and it was due the next day at 9 am. We’ve sent emails back and forth but not many.

I have the ones from when he was on-line to become a Kappa and our contact was very limited. I consider those very close because I knew the repercussions if anyone found out we were contacting one another and he risked a lot by doing it *if you know what I mean*

And ours were...well more to the point. Left all that cake shit in the bakery and were simple "I love you", "Are you going to that party", "Were we drunk last night or what".

A few from SIGMA in there after he fucked this broad because he thought I slept with an old friend from high school because some hating ass chick we both knew implied he spent the night in my room and wouldn't answer his cell when called. Nigga was passed the fuck out on my bunk bed but that's another story.

One from SIGMA's frat brother who worked his magical tongue on a sister one night while drinking. Lord he had a mouth on him.

He...kinda hate my guts because I didn't want to kick it with his exclusively. I mean tuh after you gave up the tongue that quickly? Negro please *lol* I mean some good ass tongue *whew getting hot flashes* but still...don't think by licking you're sticking.

That was not in the negotiations.

But that was a "bad" letter. Basically he called me a cold ass bitch.

And let's not get into OMAR letters. Crazy Jamaican gave me all bad letters. Mainly how he was going to run me over in his Dodge because I'm a bitch.

Damn that seems to be a common theme in my later letters *lol*

Lately I've gotten back into the letter writing thing and it's like riding a bike. Of course they're more graphic and less romantic but it brightens up the day. I just sit at the computer and start typing. Always from the top of my head and always heartfelt.

No pet names and W/B/S at the end of these letter. More like "I need to excuse myself and go handle some business in the bathroom right quick" letters.

And the letters create a very good evening if you know what I mean *wink*

This of course gives me something to write about.

But although I laugh at the letters now I know back then they meant something and I keep them close. It's like "wow...this guy really liked me" and I get a warm feeling in my stomach. I don't think I'll ever throw them away; rather I'll tuck them away somewhere to be read by my own children like I read my mother's.

And boy was my mama running game back in the day. *lol*

I think everyone should read those letters every once and awhile, especially when you're feeling a little down, at least you can get a chuckle out of it.

I know I did.

So thanks TTL. For sharing your letters. You really didn’t have to but I was surprised and pleased you revealed another side to you. And reminding me that although some people see me as a bitch, others love(d) me.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Some Memes

**Swiped from CURLY’S**

1.How tall are you barefoot?
5 foot 3 inches and a quarter and GOD help you if you leave out that quarter!

2. Have you ever flown first-class?
Nope..Um that’s the front of the plane…Like the first part of the plane to go…I’ll take my chances in coach.

3. One of your favorite books when you were a child?
The entire Baby-Sitters Club, Sweet Valley Kids, Twins, and High series and all Judy Blume books….shit Curly I lived by “Are you there God…”, I sooo thought I was a “Big Girl” when I got my period…wait why am I lying? Bitch thought she was dying *lol*

4. A good restaurant in your city?

5. What is your favorite small appliance?
George Foreman Grill and ummm…Walter maybe *lol*

6. One person that never fails to make you laugh?

7. Which TV dad will you resemble and why? Probably Peter Griffin because we’re both borderline *lol*

8. What was the first music that you ever bought?
I think it was an Xscape tape

9. Do you do push-ups?
I Push-up to the table

10. What was one of your favorite games as a child?
double dutch

11.What is the one thing that you cook that always receives compliments?
Mac and cheese. Can’t kill anyone with mac and cheese *lol*

12. When you were twelve years old, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A pediatrician

13. Your favorite Soup of the Day?
Chicken noodle soup *no soda on the side*

14. What in your life are you most grateful for?
Life and my health.

15. Have you ever met someone famous?
Little Kim *airport*, 112-concert, and some football player that I didn’t know was famous until AFTER we walked away. Forgot his name though.

16. Date Of Birth?
May 10

17. Top 3 thoughts at this exact moment:
fuck this shit is long
damn I’m hungry
I need some sex

19. Name five drinks you regularly drink:
water, cranberry juice, fruit punch, pink lemonade, and pop *now cut out*

20. From what news source do you receive the bulk of your news?
Daily Show

21. Current hair?
Nappy ponytail, I think it’s time for a touch up *lol*

22. Current worry?
Where the fuck are the rest of my tax papers

23. Current hate?
folks not on a damn diet…punks

24. Favorite place to be?
in the kitchen *lol*….My mother’s home

25. Least favorite place to be?
work *sometimes*, dentist/doctor’s office or anyplace where my father is

26. Do you consider yourself well organized?
For certain things

27. Do you believe in a afterlife?
I believe I was a bum in a past life

28. Where do you think you will be in 10 Yrs?
Hopefully alive *lol* I’ll be 33…probably knocked up for the 2nd time miserable BUT I’ll have a great house and job

29. Do you burn or tan?
Well this piece of chocolate is as close to perfection as it could get *lol* but actually I do tan. I get darker in the summer AND I have long lasting tan lines…go figure. I was a white bum in my past life *lol*

30. Hey?!??! Where's number 30?
Ummm…did you put this in Curly? Otherwise it’s right here.

31. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic about the future?
I see the cup as ½ empty

32. Last time you had an alcoholic drink?
Last Friday. Although I have two 5th of vodka in the fridge….

33. What songs do you sing in the shower?
Whatever is playing on the ‘pod

34. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a kid?
the motherfucking boogie man….and Candy man. Didn’t sleep for 3 months after I saw that movie. Tony Todd is a creepy motherfucker.

35. What’s in your pockets right now?
Def. NOT money

36. Last thing that made you laugh?
MK’s and MT’s post….yall are fools!

37. Best bed sheets you had as a child?

38. Worst injury you’ve ever had?
broken leg from a 4th of July fireworks display gone wrong.

39. Favorite song?
Right now I don’t have a favorite.

40. How many TVs do you own?

41. In the last calendar year, how many people have you told that they love you?
I couldn’t even count…umm most of my family, JBN, a few friends…shit I don’t know!

42. Last thing that made you blush?
A very naughty comment in my ear

43. Best compliment received?
Right now it’s anyone who tells me I’m not fat….i heart yall

44. What leaves you speechless?
Not much but anything said I don’t expect…I’m looking at you mean bouncer at LOVE

45. What is your favorite book?
anything by my favorite authors I could read over and over

46. Last meal you cooked for the opposite sex?
baked chicken.

47. What songs do you want played at your wedding?
haven’t decided but some Loo-fah and Stevie for sure

48. What song do you want played at your funeral?
Well since I’ll be dead, I guess it won’t matter huh?

49. What were you doing at 12 midnight last night?
knocked out.

50. What would you like to accomplish with the remaining years of your life?
A lot. Mainly get through life loved and remembered by all. Oh and finally learn how to work a pole *lol*

**I wasn’t sure if this was a meme but I swiped it from ANGEL***

10 Things...
1. I think everyone who knows me…knows that although I am blunt and sometimes too honest, I would never intentionally hurt someone I care about.

2. I am a…borderline retard. Sometimes my brain doesn’t click in until later in the day.

3. My favorite perfume is…Dior and Light Blue. Not too strong but sweet. BUT my favorite scent is Johnson’s and Johnson’s Baby Lotion.

4. I love music…but I’ve seriously fallen off in the past years. I listen to what I like and that could vary depending on my mood.

5. My favorite pastime is…sleeping, talking and laughing *sometimes at the same time*!

6. I am most comfortable…when I am in my sweats, a wifebeater and my hair scarf on.

7. When I am stressed out…I sleep. My face breaks out. I pull my hair out. I have a short temper and lash out.

8. I don't like…soo much stuff I would get a head ache just typing it. In a nut shell: my food to touch each other, any food I consider nasty or stinky, liars, phonies, know it alls, garbage, mold, insects

9. I am not a very good…driver. I suck at it. I am also a horrible speller.

10. My indulgences…handbags, sunflower seeds, body wash, chocolate

Thursday, January 18, 2007

I've Been Thinking Too Much I See...

Day One of my diet starts.

*sad wave to McDonald’s, Starbucks, and Krispy Kremes*

No sugar. No pop. Just water and juice.

*sigh* And I still have 1 ½ pack of Pepsi.

By the beginning of spring, I should be back in my Ralph Laurens.

You know this is going to kill me right? This “counting calories” stuff?

I’m going to need a LOT of sex to balance out the “Eat Every 3 Hours or I’ll Snap” thing I have going on.

In addition, sex burns calories right?

Well good sex, that is. Wack sex just burns you up period.

You know, there are some things that chirping on Nextel should not advertise.

Such as NO ONE wants to hear about your infrequent bowel movements while eating! Or how the itching has finally stopped.

There is crack in Girl Scout Cookies. Let me be the first to state that.

Why did I have to start my diet during GSC season? *sigh* No mint cookies for me this year. Although they turn your teeth and gums brown. Yeah try talking to someone cute after eating those cookies.

The car is officially out of the shop and the dent *which I am proud to say that I did not do* is fixed. The Camry is complete. Again.

AND I’ve improved on parallel parking. Sure it takes me about 10 minutes *sound low of course, you gotta turn the music down while parking* but I now can get into a spot with relative ease.

I find myself randomly quoting songs sometimes.

Someone can’t tell me something that starts a time without me saying: [time] in the morning/crack of dawning/now I yawning/wipe the col’ out my eye…

I get many weird looks at work in the morning.

I could be a therapist. I mean just sit and listen to someone’s problem AND I can charge?

That’s what I call a good hustle.

Is “Homeless Chic” what’s hot for the 07? I swear there is a homeless guy who works the Jefferson Davis Highway on 23rd street who stay rocking fresh New Balances and a fitted cap.

Dude shoes looking than mine out there peddling change. Fuckouutahere.

Not my hard earned duckets.

When you add that to a compliment, do people know that it turns into an insult?

“You’re not that fat…”
“Naw that bald spot isn’t that noticeable…”

“You’re not that bad in bed…”

I think I have fabulous hair. Just because it is relaxed does not mean I am trying to go for European look. There’s not a relaxer alive that could tame those kitchens at the back of the neck.

Besides why would I want to be white?

Clutching your bag as I enter the elevator is not a preventative method. That means I would just have to bust your head to get the purse.

Elderly white women amuse me. As if I really want your damn purse, woman I’m trying to get to the parking garage!

And ma’am trust I do not want Little Johnny. No need to clutch your child. If I wanted a badass child, I’ll stick within my own family.

Are young, Black girls the new big, menacing Black guy?

Or do I look just that threatening?

This week has gone by quickly. I’m shocked. It’s almost the weekend.

No definite plans as of right now. I still have to get to the movies to see Stomp the Yard.

Yahoo 360 is the devil. Random men like to hit me up flirting. Um yeah, I’m going to need you to holler back. I don’t do the cyber sex thing.

While I don’t mind giving out my discount, please don’t call me out the blue trying to have that fake conversation when you know all you want is the discount.

And if we are NOT cool, two fingers. If I KNOW you don’t know how to act when in public settings, two fingers. And don’t ask me for a suite for having a wild party. Definite two fingers.

Not on my discount buddy.

When you have bad teeth maybe it is not a good idea to smile all the time. I’m just saying.

Red lipstick doesn’t work for everyone.

I hate when I’m in line at the grocery store and the person in front of me steps out of line to get something and take FOREVER coming back.

Did you not know you needed seasoning salt BEFORE you hopped your ass in line?

Or how about the idiots who use self-checkout and have no idea how to use it? It’s self explanatory: SELF CHECK OUT! Why are you asking a damn attendant to swipe your items? That’s called regular check out!

Just because I live in the area does not mean I know where everything is located. Nor do I remember my name being Map Quest.

I have no idea why Metro does not stop directly at Tyson’s Corner. I mean last time I checked I was not a Metro architect. But how about here’s the number to Metro?

And a nickel. Call someone who cares.

When I am happy, I am extremely happy. When I am not, I am just a bitch.

It’s Income Tax time. I think I might get a nice amount this year. I’m thinking of filing on my own this year.

I’m still protesting Jackson Hewitt.

Just when it finally begins to feel like winter outside, I lose my gloves.

I hate wearing socks.

I’ve realized that I don’t watch a lot of TV shows. No 24, Grey’s Anatomy, Prison Break, American Idol for me.

Although I am glad that The Wire is on BET. Now I have a reason to watch the channel.

I am shocked by the amount of cursing that is on TV now. Since when did people get to say, “Shit”, “Damn”, “Bullshit”, “Nigga”, “Bitch”, “Asshole” on TV?

I mean “motherlover”, “bluck” or some other hilarious rendition of a curse word still exist but dammit no more “bull spit”?

No more laughing at the creative ways to say “motherfucker”?

Tuh where will I get my comedy from now?

Well…there are always the commercials.

“I’ll have the roast duck with the mango salsa” is my new slogan.

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Where's Non Celeb Fit Club When You Need It?

This week I will be starting a diet.

I’m serious this time.

Since I have moved to DC I have gained thirty pounds and finally it has caught up to me.

Maybe because I have always been thin *outside of my butt* people look really surprised to see me…well average sized.

Now on one hand, I LOVE the weight gain. I didn’t hit 100 lbs. until my junior year of high school and my prom dress had to be taken in two times because I kept losing weight.

I’ve always been the smallest one in my family even though I have one of the biggest appetites. It’s a shame when your 10 year old cousins weigh more than you do. We won’t even get on the chest sizes of those critters.

Gaining weight has never been easy for me. I’ve struggled with it my whole life. I hated being skinny. I wanted to be one of the “thick” girls not one of the skinny girls.

Outside of having an ass, which I think is pretty average but looks bigger because of my frame; I don’t really have a shape. I don’t have big breasts and while I have nice legs, they’re not shapely.

In college I gained and lost my freshman 15 and outside of gaining a pound or two a year, I never peaked above 125. My body was weird. I would gain two, lose three, gain one…all in the course of a month.

Birth control has solely been the factor *I think* in weight actually sticking. That and unhealthy eating habits.
I’ve always been a piggy but before I used to pig out to the same foods and of course not gain a pound. Now…I suck in air, that’s two pounds.

I remember when I was a size 7/9 in pants *due to the size of my ass* but looks as if I was still in a two. I remember arguing with everyone over the real size of my jeans because people were convinced I was trying to push off a bigger size in order to claim my fake Jamaican heritage.

Shit now a size 2 ain’t nothing but some leg warmers because that’s as high as they’re going.

And my shape is so weird that I appear smaller than what I really wear. I want to say I’m a pear shape but lately I have been looking a little “1 Liter” ish in the shape.

Mainly it’s my stomach. I hate it. Now it’s no hiding it. I officially have a stomach. A *gasp* muffin top. The only six packs that I have on me is that bundle of chips that rests on my stomach as I stuff my fat face.

I am so self conscious about my stomach, it’s really ridiculous.

I feel like I’m in sitcom where my character is pregnant but it’s not written in the show so I have to hide behind shit to mask my belly.

I’ve been using one of my obnoxiously big handbags *lol*

But you know what? This has been a long time coming.

The constant “Wow, you’ve gotten fat”, “Are you pregnant”, “What are you eating in DC? People?” the past few months usually warranted nothing more than an irritated sigh or a chuckle. I mean I’m not as fat as they claim right? I mean I can fit into majority of my jeans.

Ok until I couldn’t fit into my favorite pair of Ralph Lauren jeans.

No biggie. I mean they shrunk in the wash right? I know I shouldn’t have let JBN wash. Besides I have had the jeans since sophomore year of college it’s only natural to outgrow them right?

Then at work, “Tenacious…are you gaining weight?”

I mean one of my blazers was a little tight but that’s from the constant dry cleaning right? Damn Korean woman!

But Friday, my boat on the river of Denial sunk.

Friday by some force of craziness I agreed to work a double shift. The morning shift at my hotel and the evening shift at my old property because their staff was having a party.

Never again. My shift at my hotel was fine but I was so tired.

The shift at my old property was so boring, I found myself damn near falling asleep standing. I forgot they’re a little uptight over there and don’t like for anyone to have fun while working which is part of the reason I left.

To amuse ourselves, we chose to prank call the sister property and fuck with the staff over there. I was tempted to leave early but didn’t.

With a sky high credit card bill and JBN’s birthday on the 22nd, I needed the extra money.

So I worked 16 hours straight AND then turned around and went to LOVE with my girls who wanted to celebrate my impending promotion.

A running tab…I was up a full 24 hours with no sleep. I came in from clubbing at 4 am on the dot.

After a quick change, I was good to go. You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t looking fly with my red empire waist shirt, skin tight pants and red “do me” heels.

I was tired as shit but I wanted to party.

We had a hook-up at the door so we squeezed past security for the free and were waiting to get frisked by one of the bouncers. Yeah like I could carry a concealed weapon in my outside. Shit I could barely conceal my breast let alone a piece.

And then…my boat sunk.

Bastard Bouncer: *frisking me* Hey! I can’t let you in..
Me: *thinking it’s the bouncer who placed us in Detox the last time* Man…see I’m not even…

BB: We don’t let pregnant girls in the club.

Me: *blinks* But…I’m not pregnant.

BB: Well you look it.

Me: *snatches id* I’m just fat asshole NOT pregnant!

And stomped in the door. My girls were shocked. Sure they teased me about getting chubby but almost denied entrance because dude thought I was pregnant?!

A bitch’s night was ruined after that. The bastard was probably trying to be funny but I was self-conscious the entire night.

Sure I danced and got hollered at *I think it was a Kappas Function or something* and had to enforce the “One Dance Minimum” far too many times but it wasn’t the same.

*sigh* I’m fat.

If I were a white girl, I would soo be anorexic right now. Ok well not that extreme because shit I can’t just sit and starve myself. I get angry when I don’t eat every three hours so I know I’d be in jail for murder if I was anorexic *lol*

I did enjoy my evening. A little too much. I did get a few free drinks but that shit has a lot of calories. I kept my rum and DIET coke but gave the rest away.

Burned major calories on the dance floor. I think we danced to every song the DJ played. Hair sweated out.
By the end of the evening, my feet were burning so bad I could barely walk to the car. I mean my feet were red when I took my shoes off.

They were hurting so bad they were swollen by the morning which put a damper on my plans for Saturday. I couldn’t even squish my foot in anything other than my flip flops so I stayed in on Saturday.

BUT I did have an amazing talk with a friend on Saturday. Cleared a lot of shit up and got a lot of things out in the open.

I guess people don’t believe it when I admit I am borderline retarded with a touch of manic depressive and OCD.

All self diagnosed of course but pretty valid *lol*

Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. I laid around the house. On Sunday I really don’t do anything on the rare occasion that I am not working. I should take my ass to church but um yeah I might be struck down walking up in the Lawd’s house right now.

The car went into the shop on Monday so I am currently without a vehicle. It’s funny that in the two weeks that I have been driving regularly to work I now do not want to take Metro *lol*

Now I actually have to get up early *lol*

I think I might take up jogging. Can you picture me running around at 6 am with my shorts and New Balance sneakers?

Nah I can’t either. I’ll take my chances with the treadmill.

So how was everyone’s weekend? Anything new and exciting?

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Maybe Patience Isn't A Virtue...

Why must people test my patience? Do people really know that as much as I front, I am not the most patient person in the world?

For example, I hate being late for things. I prefer not to run on CP Time all the damn time thank you very much.

I don’t like missing the previews for movies. If I even think the previews have started, we’re catching the next time, no discussion needed. I’ll sit around for the next hour or so to catch the next showing I don’t care. Should’ve been ready on time.

I hate when maintenance, the cable guy or anything that requires me rolling out of the damn bed early as fuck in order to fix something because you know I’m not going to sleep while some strange person is roaming around my apartment and shit, is fucking late to do their job. Oh and they don’t be just 10-15 minutes late, motherfuckers are like two hours late and shit. And as soon as I say fuck it and hop in the shower…guess who’s knocking on the fucking door?

Now who’s shivering in their bathrobe watching as he/she come in to do a damn task that takes less than 20 minutes most of the time to complete?

Don’t give me a definite fucking time if you’re unable to do it at that time! I hate when folks tell me shit like, “Oh be ready at 6:30” and at 6:30 calling me talking about they’re running behind. You knew you’d be running behind anyway so why suggest the time? And have the nerve to get mad at me when I cop an attitude. In my world, it’s called the “15 minute courtesy call”.

If you know you’re not going to make it in the time slot allocated, please call 15 minutes beforehand to let someone know.

I mean don’t call me at 10:30 when we supposed to have met at 9, talking about “I’m running a little late…”

Naw homie…you think?

Depending on what it is, I’ve already probably taken my clothes off and put my PJs back on anyways.

And the chronically late friends? You know the ones who wouldn’t be on time for their own funeral? It’s a damn shame you have to trick them with the time in order to get some place on time. We’ve taken to just flat out lying about the time just so folks can be on time for real. “Um yeah girl we need to be at the club at 8 this time, you know so we can get there when the doors opens”, just so the broad can really arrive at 9-10.

And folks wonder why I don’t like depending on people for a ride and shit to go somewhere.

I’m the type now that I like to “get in and get out”. I don’t want to spend all day waiting for someone to give me a ride to Wal-Mart, arrive late as shit, AND complain the entire time I’m at the store because “I’m taking too long”.

Not to mention the ones who think you owe them something for taking precious time from sitting on his/her ass to drive you somewhere.

And then get mad when I tell them I rather catch the bus with 20 bags than call them up for a ride. Shit I’ll be waiting all day anyways might as well wait for the bus.

It was hard when I didn’t have a driver’s license *for the record I began legally driving summer 2005. Yeah the State of Illinois fucked up by giving me, of all people, a license* and it was hard when I first moved to the DC/MD/VA area because to get anywhere good I would have to get on some sort of an expressway. Although I will admit in MD, I could virtually get to several places quite easily by driving…as long as I wasn’t trying to go up to Silver Springs or Bethesda.

*thanks Toldja I didn’t know what to call all of these fucking cities and shit that starts and ends on certain blocks. I wanted to call them suburbs but some folks would cock their heads and ask why? Like only the suburbs are the boonies or the “good” areas or some shit. Shit I lived in Suitland, cross the street, I’m in Temple Hills…I’m like what the fuck? MD trying to get over on people and shit*

Now that I’m not so fearful to drive *and know to avoid rush hour, I’m not too stable at that yet* I’ve been venturing out more and more on my own. Fucked up parallel parking and all. One of these days someone is going to zing the other side of the damn car.

And I’m not taking up two parking spaces and shit. I now practice patience and work in the spot until I’m dead center. Never mind the people who look at me like I’m crazy and shit. You know I’m not looking in the mirror so stop walking in the back of my car!

I’m patient when it comes to driving. It actually soothes me. Put in my cd and I just cruise to wherever I’m going.

Getting lost and all. Fucking exit signs and shit.

At work *fanfare* I will be getting a raise and a promotion!

Apparently my manager *whom I knew from my old property* doesn’t want me to leave so he’s giving me the position I want.

Namely…M-F, 8-4:30p. Yes I will be joining the realms of NORMAL working hours!!

Can you tell I’m excited? I get my weekends back? You mean LIMITED interactions with the guests? Ok I’m lying. I know they won’t hesitate to drag me up front for some pointless question. AND in charge of the entire distribution of rooms in the hotel?

Complete power huh? Folks must have lost their minds.

But…I can kiss my sleeping until noon good-bye. Damn I loved that!

And then some “Gutter Slut” that I used to be cool with has taken to “Face Stalking” me on Face Book talking about some mess I’d supposedly said about her three fucking years ago!

Can she get some business for the ’07 please?

So you know I had to crush her right? Through messages of course but I know she felt the sting of my hate filled words.

Another thing I hate is when people put my name in shit. If I said it, I said it. No questions asked. But I hate when my name erupts in some bullshit when I’m not around to defend myself. And why the fuck is my name coming up in a conversation between her and this "unknown" anyway? Smells like bullshit. High School-ish bullshit but still bullshit all the same.

See people think they’re slick. They’ll say some shit and make it seem like a statement that I would say knowing damn well they said it but since I'm not there, "Oh Tenacious said this...". Usually something sarcastic as fuck but still made and said in a way that you know, only I could say. Which most of the time sounds so fucking stupid I'm insulted. Stop placing those third grade sarcastic remarks in my so-called mouth. I mean really, as an expert in sarcasm I demand a little respect. Sarcasm is a sacred art form not to be used by just any old person. But some just take it as just that and run with it.

Friends that really know me and know what’s capable of coming out of my mouth simply state, “That isn’t something she would say”. Or better yet call and ask.

But I don't say anything behind someone's back that I could not say to their face. Although most statements are something already said to his/her face, namely this chick I used to be cool with being a Hoe.

Not like that was a HUGE secret at U of I. Part of the reason I had to part ties with her. I'd rather be a hoe standing on my own rather than a hoe by default. Damn that "birds of a feather" shit, this eagle stands alone *lol*

Silly people? They wanna stalk you through the internet to come at you with some petty shit. Especially petty shit that can’t be named by person or what was said.

So to prevent the bitch from bothering me I just shut her tacky ass the fuck down and left it at that. I don’t care who said it nor what was said although I have a sneaking suspicion because I only associated with two other girls who were cool with her.

You know how that shit goes. Rat someone else out to make yourself seem better by so-called tricking *telling* all the dirt people said while said people weren’t cool in order to gain some sort of friendship back.


Let’s keep beefs within a year please.

But the shit fucked up my morning. I was mad as shit and had half a mind to call the suspects and let them know a thing or two.

But then I realized something.

One- I really didn’t care. Let them feel better by having a “We Hate Tenacious” party. Shit I have a bigger list to contribute if they really want to make it a hot party.

And that’s a few less invites for my wedding.

Two- I was out of Kix cereal. I needed to get some STAT.

And put the incident out of my head until she sent another reply back. But I know the bitch. After the first assault on words, bitch probably cried, you know dramatic that she always is and have been, and spent all weekend working on a reply, which fell flat.

You actually have to have feelings in order to be affected by dry words of assault.

I mean when you can’t call me anything more than some variation of a “dumb ass”, I know you’re no competition. I mean can I get a low blow or something to stay in the game? A “That’s why you fucked KAPPA” or something?

I really do hate assaulting people with words. I mean watching a face crumble is so heartbreaking you know? Especially when you don’t even have to dig up from past dirt to use. I mean never mind she’s suspected of having herpes due to the obnoxious amount of fucking she do to any male who tells her she’s pretty.

I mean I have nothing against promiscuous women. Let it be known that Tenacious loves the Hoes. No matter how low the self-esteem.

Who can argue about someone who loves sex? Needing to know a last name? Man that’s so last year? Being called pretty thus “get in my car” and I gladly oblige knowing I could easily become an Amber Alert? I mean duh he drives a nice car so he couldn’t be a sociopath, right?

Stripping at a seedy joint on the outskirts of town? Shit had I not fell off that pole during my audition I wouldn’t have a student loan right now. And I might be rolling in a nice vehicle. No Honda Civics over here. No sir-ree.

And besides all of this is going on via the internet. What am I going to do E-Slap her or something? E-Beefs are so fucking lame.

I did give her a D for effort though.

BUT I had to send a final blow to the face and went about my business. People are truly characters. She was starting to get a little annoying. I mean really come on now? Stalking through Face Book of all places? I guess she figured I wouldn’t have a My Space.

She was trying my patience and makes no mistake: I don’t have a problem traveling to where ever she is to handle this in the way that I see fit. Namely slapping the fuck out of her. Oh I slap a bitch in a heartbeat.

I haven’t grown up that much. I will still take it to the street straight Project style. Razor blade under the tongue, Vaselined face and hair braided to the back.

Ok well not the razor. I’d probably cut my tongue off.

But I’ll break a beer bottle in a second though. Shit improvise.

Load up on the finest of Johnson’s & Johnson’s and slap a hoe down Iceberg Slim style.

And the whole purpose of this entry?

Fucking technician has me on hold too fucking long.

Time to write a letter to Corporate.

Friday, January 12, 2007

As Long As It's Live, B-Ball Isn't That Bad...

Wednesday I finally broke down and went to a sporting event.

AND did not fall asleep during it!

I was dragged *dragging my feet but not too much, they were new boots after all* to the Wizards v. Bulls game.

Which wasn’t half bad never mind the fact that I was asking “Who is that?” every five minutes because I didn’t recognize any one from either team. And course I had to have the terms explained to me, I had no idea what they were talking about.

I was not playing when I said I am not sports savvy at all.

Although…Etan Thomas could get three times in the bathroom right quick. How come no one told me that sexy speciman of a man is roaming DC begging to get raped by me in a dark alley? That is one sexy man. Had to wipe the drool every time he got on the court.

And he looks smart. Not all slacked jawed and borderline like some athletes look. I heard he writes children's books? Is that true?

See...I'm going to have to join the ranks of stalker.

Although I don't see the big deal about Gilbert Arenas. He looks...a little off to me. Can't put my finger on it but something about him looks a tad bit...well off.

And I was mad the Bulls lost. I still have hometown pride you know. I felt like they just gave that game away.

And the game seem much shorter when watching it live action rather than on the television. Must be all the damn commercials. The first quarter was boring though, I did have to fight off sleep because it was sooo boring. Thankfully it passed quickly.

When not asking questions, I was laughing at the goofs who were climbing over chairs only to get their leg stuck in between the seats and falling forward.

I guess only JBN and I find comedy in people spilling their $7 cup of beer *Highway Robbery if you ask me, I wish I would pay $7 for ONE cup of beer. Isn’t that a 6 Pack?* all over themselves, only to curse and turn around to get another one.

Not to mention the drunk fans. I mean really, is it serious? Folks just wilding out in the stands and judging by how high we were and the slopes of those steps, getting slapped should not have been an option because one slip and your shit is bound to be all fucked up.

You’re breaking an arm, leg, neck…something.

But you know folks don’t care. They’re wobbling up the steps and shit and you know me, I’ll laugh if someone slip and fall.

It couldn’t be me though because I know if I paid that much money for a damn cup of beer not a drop is falling out of that cup.

BUT I am not foolish enough to risk a broken bone trying to save that beer.

And I found out something that was very amusing to me: White People Don’t Play When It Comes To Their Seats At A Sporting Event.

They don’t hope. They wish a motherfucker would be in their seats. They get as crunk as well…Black Folks.

We sat in the wrong section by mistake and some white dudes tried to get gangsta over some fucking seats?!

I mean, we’re all in the cheap seats. It’s not like you could see the game any better than where we were seating. Dudes were acting like we’re at the court yard and shit.

But since we were in the wrong, we moved. It’s not like we sat there on purpose, we sat in the wrong section.

I'm telling you, we're losing our grip. White folks just are not scared of black people anyone. Ok well old white ladies still clutch their pearls when I hop into the elevator and one day I just want to jump at one and scare the shit out of her but I don't want to go to jail because she have a stroke or something.

Nigga Fo’ and Five…Fo’ and Five

But I was surprised on how much I enjoyed myself at the game. I mean I didn’t pay that much attention besides molesting Etan with my eyes but I had a great time.

I might even go to the Knicks game next week. Maybe. I think I have to work.

But damn the line for the women’s bathroom. I was doing “The Dance” by the time I found a bathroom so I ducked into the Men’s Bathroom.

Desperate times calls for desperate measures.

I only got a few strange looks *and some cuppage so I couldn’t see the goods* but no one made a big deal.

I couldn't do it. Not today. And there were littlt girls in line and you know you still have to line the toilet with toilet paper so they won't get the "butt clap" but that takes too damn long because they can't hover yet and I know little girls take too long in the bathroom and I would've peed on myself.

*LOL my mother told me some foolishness when I was a child and I was terrified of using public bathroom because I thought I would get the butt clap. Never mind to this day I have no idea what the fuck butt clap *or trenchmouth* pertains to but I still avoid using the washroom in public*

And fuck what you heard I still believe you can get something from a toilet seat.

We ledt with 5 minutes left in the 4th to beat the rush of people.

Made it home in enough time to catch Family Guy and got some sleep.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Feeble Requirements...

As long as a man is:

Well groomed- meaning he cares deeply about his hygiene *I love the smell of a man who just got out of the shower* and while he doesn't have to look like he's about to head to GQ for a spread he must know how to match! Don't just throw something togethre because it has the same name brand!

I'm not really into men whose hair is longer than mine *unless it's dreads* but keep the shit up please. Walking around looking like Jim Jones or Lil Wayne's shit is not hot. And leave the Pimpalicious hairstyles in the 70s. Grown as hell walking around with spiral curls and shit.

Respectful- Nuff Said. If he talks to his mama like garbage we are not meant to be together!

Have a great personality with a great sense of humor- we should share similar traits BUT I don’t want anyone too similar to me. That equals problems *lol*. And I like a man who can laugh at himself *and others* and can get just as silly as me.

Nothing irks me more than a person who don’t know how to enjoy himself. Nor do I like a stick in the mud who gets mad every time you crack a joke.

Don’t advertise yourself as having a great sense of humor and you can’t take a little playful ribbing. Nor claim to be as sarcastic as myself and can’t take a little sarcasm thrown in that direction.

Intelligent- He doesn’t necessarily have to hold X amount of degrees but I want someone who has more than 3 brain cells to rub together. Nothing irritates me more than a dumb person. And please a little common sense and street smarts goes a long way. Don't run toward the gunshot but away ya know?

Doesn’t smoke- I prefer a non smoker BUT if he smokes the occasional cigarette or weed, I don’t toss him to the curb. It’s just…kissing someone who smokes is like kissing an ashtray. And over time that cigarette smell consume everything. And besides I don’t like a weed head or anyone addicted to cigarettes. I do have allergies. But lighting up a dub sack on my birthday with me? That’s cool.

Knows how to lay the smack down in bed- I don’t care how “fine” or “perfect” he is, if he sucks in the sack, I’m throwing the two fingers to the wind. This isn’t high school. A grown man should how to fuck or at least give some great oral. You know, make up for what's he lacking. I'm young my damn self, I don't have time to teach an old dog old tricks. And then scratch the old tricks for the new tricks. I can’t be just lying in bed suffering through a sex session as he gyrates on me like he's doing something.

Sweating hard like he done worked me out or something.

Then I'll have to bust him in his eye for sexually depriving me and shit.

Damn that. The goods must be good but not too damn good. I don't want the "Make You Lose Your Mind" dick because I don't have the time to be stalking.

Too much of some good dick is a bad thing.

I'm already cracked out on Starbucks, Sweet Tea, Sunflower Seeds, Krispy Kremes and Cold Stone *lol* I don't need to be cracked out on the dick as well.

I'll take some B+ penis please.

And besides the things that should be obvious *single, NOT a chick beater, no STDs, all his teeth, etc*, I don’t have any specifics. As long as he isn’t into anything illegal, I don’t care where he works. If it's somewhere hourly, make sure the discount is looking right. I’m not with a man for his cash. My mother always told me to never put value in money because you're born broke and die broke. You can't take money where you're going. I think she was talking about me being in Hell but shit at least I'll know some folks on the bus ride there *lol*

BUT he gotta have a job. I am not in the business of supporting grown ass people.

I’m not a car person so I’m don’t care about the make, model and year of a vehicle. Not like I know many of them by sight anyway. A nice car= A way for my fucked up driving ass to fuck up his car and we end up on Judge Mathis because I refuse to pay for the charges because I swear that car came out of no where and then I'm on a payment plan with a dude I don't even go with anyone.

I'll pass.

Kids? Now that depends. If he has a whole gang of them I will pass. That means he’s a little too giving in passing out his sperm to women. There's no way a man should be 25 with 6 damn kids by 6 different women. I will pass. That also means the sperm is too potent. Mess around and swallow and still get pregnant. Nigga cough on you, you're having triplets and shit. No thank you.

I am also not in the business of being step mama.

Crazy Baby Moms? I will have to pass. I’ve seen how ugly some of those women could get. I will not be fighting his BM in the streets because she's been stalking him for days and decided to pounce. Nor do I want to be in a situation where crazy BM won't let him see his kids because I'm in the picture. Trust bitch I don't want the kids to call me "Mama" either!

If his child’s mother and him get along well and are NOT still sleeping with one another *you know how that goes sometimes*, their interaction is strictly limited to anything that has to do with the child, then I would date a man with a kid or two.

Looks comes last. I realize that I will never get my chocolate delight in his dreadlocked, white even teeth, gorgeous skin glory so I can stop pining away. I mean he can't look repulsive like I shudder when he touches me *and not in the good way* and I mean I must be able to take him out in the daylight and around friends but I don't have a specific "look" I go for.

I loves the chocolate but have only managed to reel in the light to brown skinned men. *sigh* Folks trying to get a little color in their family and shit.

I'm a pretty simple girl when it comes to looking for a potential partner.

I mean it changes from time to time but you can't say the kid is a gold-digger hoochie.

Well maybe a hoochie. But def. not a gold digger.

But of couse this is what I am attracted to. Too bad I can't attract this type. *lol*

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Is It Really That Bad?

A little wistful thinking on my part but you know what?

Sometimes I wish I was single. Not all the time, of course *And give up the in-house booty? Tuh yeah right!*

I know, I know single chicks are always on the search for “The One” so why on earth would I want to join the trenches of the Single Gal?

Why, so I can play the fields of course!

I mean when I was single, oh so many years ago, I relished in my single-hood. I loved every minute of being single. Hell even I was surprised when I acquired a steady boyfriend and actually kept him.

Some of my friends were even running bets to see how long we would last. And all of them lost. It’ll be five years in February and besides a month in 2003, we have been a continuous “on” couple.

Don’t get me wrong, I love this man to death. I would slay dragons for this man. Well…ok maybe kill a roach for him.

I mean shit I ain’t ready to die for anyone, I mean when I duck I advise him to do the same.

But I will fall out for dead at his funeral. Expect the casket draping and burial site fall out performance.

He irks my nerves *and vice versa* but everyone once and awhile when I’m out “window shopping” and “eye fucking” some poor guy as he walks down the street, the wistful thinking begin.

But sadly, I’m not the type of woman who can’t keep a man to save her life. I’m the type where I can’t get rid of them.

You know the type. The type of dude who want to turn a “booty call” into a relationship. Begin asking for more time than I can give. The type that won’t take “No” for an answer. The one who camps out in front of my mama’s crib hoping to catch me slipping so he can make a scene in front of the new guy. Which leads to an awkward date because now the new guy is giving me the side eye and debating whether he wants to give up the dick now and shit.

You know…The type I typically attract.

Sure the single life gets boring *or so I’m told* and naturally after awhile the thoughts of settling down begin to trickle in especially since your once-single friends are in relationships.

I mean it’s no fun to go out with the friend who is so in love with their significant other they never cease to sicken you with tales of extreme cakeness that have the “Hopeless Romantic” friends sighing with envy yet you’re trying not to up-chuck your McDonald’s over the table.

I’ve been told repeatingly by people that I “look” like a cheater. I’m the “non-faithful” type.

Which I used to be. Although in my defense, I would at least kick the guy to the curb before stepping out.

Before, I guess due to “karma”, I used to be really paranoid about a man cheating on me. Now I just don’t give a damn. It takes too much energy to stalk. I don’t see how people do it, I mean shit don’t you get bored during those stake outs?

And besides men will give themselves away anyway. Men, you get too cocky, thus sloppy. And thus leave the evidence all wrapped up in a tidy bow. My work is done.
My only concerns? Please wear a condom. And please don’t be munching all up in her love below and coming to kiss me.

For that…I’ll beat your ass for straight disrespect.

But alas I do have friends, female and male, who have lost a good thing due to their obsession with their significant other and a “non existent” lover. And their paranoia ran deep.

I mean let that person show up 10 minutes late for something…oh they were cheating. At the store with their mother…Is that bitch/nigga there? Not to mention the quasi stake-out as soon as someone got their driver’s license because ain’t no way in hell is he/she that sick.

Shit...High School relationships were intense fuck what you heard *lol*

I love my single friends, don’t get me wrong, Of course, my single friends are a pain in the ass sometimes because of their unconscious desire to see me get fucked up by JBN by trying to hook me up with various men who “would be perfect for me”.

I mean jeez I know JBN and I are a mismatch but please refrain from hooking me up for the sole purpose of some sort of entertainment.

My single friends are also the ones I call when JBN and I get into one of infamous “War of the Roses” so I can get some sort of co-signage on “Niggaz Ain’t Shit”.

You know you can’t go running to your friends with relationship and shit since they want to inject common sense and logic and shit. *lol*

BUT what I hate about single friends is the excessive whining about how single he/she is and how they’re destined to die alone because he/she can’t find a good man/woman.

Usually it’s the same script: Either no one likes him/her for a listing of reasons or he/she can’t find anyone with the qualities he/she deem “acceptable” for a significant other.

And I say the same thing every single time: Maybe if some standards were lowered, he/she can find a man/woman.

Point Blank: Some folks have too many damn standards that needs to be met in order to be deemed “acceptable” in his/her eyes.

Which is fine, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying go out and just get anybody because times are never that hard. It’s just all the superficial shit…get rid of.

Some of their standards are down right ridiculous.

I mean hair has to be a certain style, length, color. Has to be light skinned. Has to be dark skinned. Must drive a certain car, make a certain amount of money, hold a specific degree, dress a certain way…Just an obnoxious listing that makes me say Well damn, you have this perfect person down to a science, huh? All he/she have to do is show up huh?

Newsflash: The ideal man/woman doesn’t exist. That motherfucker died at birth.
Now of course I have my own “standards” that I look for but *shrugs* I guess I’m looking for something…well simple.

But what I tell friends: On a list of ten things you would find ideal in a man/woman, you’re lucky if your ass find five…and all from the same person.

I guess folks have never heard of fixing a “flaw”. Sure it takes time *sometimes* but I’m not going to pass on a guy who’s great but can’t dress. That’s called a “make-over” honey *lol*

I also don’t think there’s anything special one has to do to “get” a boyfriend or girlfriend.

I like to think it lies all in the personality.

If you have a stank ass personality, point blank, you ain’t finding any one.

No one wants to be around a sour puss. I don’t care how good you look, how your oral skills deserves a verse in the bible and how well you can throw down in the kitchen if you’re a stick in the mud, need a serious attitude adjustment, or have the personality of a rock…you might be single for a while.

I know some of my friends suffer from the “Princess/Prince” complex where no one can’t tell him/her shit because the sun rises and sets on their ass. Snap their fingers and they demand results. Shit they’re worse than a slave owner, demanding constant attention and validation from their loved one, going into catatonic states when their daily dose of affection isn’t given.

Me? Shit dick is never that good to “sweat” a guy. I don’t have the time. Take your dramatics to the silver screen please. All that “you never call”, “never text”, “how do you feel about me”, “tell me you love me” bullshit is for the fucking birds.

It’s like a fucking quiz going with people like that. And I don’t do well on tests that I can’t study for.

Not to mention some like to chase people out of their league. There are some types that are not compatiable with you no matter how hard you try.

If you’re a man chasing a gold digger type, trust them hoochies have “Dollar Radar”. If your funds are not to their liking, you’re chasing a lost cause.

If you’re a woman chasing that man that you know just know isn’t for you, know he’s wrong in every way, I say back away.

Trust the dick is not as good as you think *lol*

I firmly believe that there is someone for everyone and if you’re sitting on your ass waiting for Mr./Ms. Right to knock on your door, you need to wake up and smell the coffee.

You find by getting off your ass and looking.

And shit look every where. You’ll be surprised. I found JBN at the campus bus stop.

Shit I be eyeing the stock boy at Wal-Mart, the dude pumping his gas at the gas station, the guy in Champs Shoes, the cutie on the Metro…Good single men are every where you just have to know how to scout them out. And don’t discriminate. That dude in the dusty sweats standing in line at Target could easily be a stockbroker dressing down.

And then those of my friends who claims they want someone but they don’t really want anyone. They’re happy being single but trying to front like they’re so miserable.

Trying to fit into the group and shit like they’re not content being single. The only time I hear them complain is when their flavors of the month is busy and can’t come over.

Or the friends that scare a person off by trying to move too fast.

Um yeah you’re single if on the first day you’re discussing wedding dates and babies names. I mean could you get the last name down before you start sizing him up for a tux?

By the third date trying to move in and shit. Talking about the “biological clock” is ticking. Bitch just learned how to spell “biological” and worried about her ovaries.

Me? Shit let that bad boy tick away. In fact I took the batteries out of mine.

I don’t think there’s any “real” secret to being in a relationship so as soon as the conversation begin to turn in that direction, I know it’s time to go.

I didn’t get a man through any special tricks. No voodoo or anything like that. No special pussy tricks to captivate him.

Just being my crazy self. And let the record show I wasn’t “looking” for a man. I just happened to have acquired one.

I’ve my share of doozies and “why the FUCK was I messing with this nigga?”

I’ve cheated. Have been cheated on.

I may have keyed a car, sugared a gas tank, cracked a window or two…but err
I plead the 5th on those charges.

I have rather difficult traits in which I could be difficult as a girlfriend. One being that I like to be the boss.

And I’m really cool until you get me going and then I’m Motor Mouth City.

And don’t ever piss me off.

Then I get a little…crazy.

But *lol* I think my positive traits outnumber my negative traits.

I’m just a regular person.

It doesn’t take much to please me or keep me happy. I’m not a person who constantly needs attention or validation. For the most part, hell just leave me alone *lol*

And feed me.

But I guess this is one of those “on the outside looking in” so don’t mind my rambling.

But I would love to hear some feedback on this. So I guess the question is:

Is it really that bad to be single?

Saturday, January 06, 2007

My Saturday Night in Chicago

Well for the record I ain’t knocked up BUT I did get the drugs that I wanted so I’m straight now. Ok never mind that I had to have blood drawn for a test that I knew the results not to mention the lecture about how continuously taking my birth control pills is bad for my health.

Well….put me back on the shot then.

So instead of looking like an extra from the Land of the Dead *which is a good movie by the way* I can now join the Land of the Living…somewhat.

I mean so what my nose is all chapped up and still reddish and ok I may have a few bags under my eyes. And I still have that hacking Tuberculosis cough but other than that…

At least my hair looks fabulous.

I have been setting records at the salon. In and out in less than two hours AND that’s with time under the dryer.

But back to the story at hand…My Saturday night in Chicago.

I’m home…you guessed it chilling around the house in my brand new Hello Kitty PJs playing with my brand new Hello Kitty watch.

What can I say? My mother spoils me.

I hear someone calling my name doing the “Hood Call”, you know folks don’t utilize their cell phones around my way. We just stand outside your building and yell until you come to the window.

It’s one of my old partners in crimes from when you couldn’t drag me off of my block. She went away to finish high school in Mississippi Junior Year and just recently moved back into the area after finishing college. One of the few girls on my block that I fucked with because we had similar goals not to mention we have the same fucked up sense of humor. Yet another “stuck up” chick because our goals were not to have a baby by some thug ass cat before we were out of high school.

So I was pretty excited to see her because I haven’t seen her in a few years. After catching up on our lives since high school she asked did I want to go out for some drinks with her and a “friend” this evening, you know to finish catching up and relieve some hilarious moments to a captivating audience.

Now when she said “friend” instantly I was suspicious because I know her. She is the reason Lesson #5 was created due to quite a few disastrous incidents during our trying teen years.

Lesson #5- NO Double Dates.

I detest double dates with a vengeance. Either I don’t like the woman or I don’t like the man which leads to…um minor incidents and a list of places where my services are no longer welcomed. Tuh like I liked that Olive Garden anyways.

So after giving her the side eye because I know what she be on, she assured me that it was just going to be me, her and her guy.

Warning her of bodily harm if she violated Lesson #5 because after all I have a steady bf and I flashed the ring to let her know I am not interested in having some guy in my face after the last time I was thrust into a double date.

Eh it’s somewhere in the archives.

I get dressed and throw the two fingers to the kiddies who were fighting over toys. I won’t even mention how half of the toys they received for Christmas are already broken. The only toys that are in perfect condition are the baby’s and even then they were eyeing her Fisher Price shit.

Old destructive ass kids. And they wonder why I bought them clothes for Christmas. Maybe that way my payback, getting sick. Damn kids put roots on me and shit.

So we get to the spot and before we can walk in, she grabbed my arm and said those words that I hate to hear:

You’re going to be mad at me…

The bitch done did it again. Her guy’s friend was just getting over a break-up and since he knew I would be coming alone he decided to “invite” his guy along, you know to get him out the house and shit.

I was pissed. Did I not just say I don’t want a fucking double date? So I demanded to be taken home. So we’re arguing out in front of the place like idiots when they come outside to meet us.

Granted dude was a little cute but I was too heated about being lied to.

I guess he could tell I wasn’t thrilled by his presence but shit he wasn’t thrilled by my presence either. Apparently he wasn’t told I was coming along and like I did not appreciate being “hooked up” either.

So we’re just looking at each like we’re crazy and were dragged into the restaurant looking like prisoners taking that trip to the chair.

I’m shooting her death glares across the table and praying that she chokes on her chicken fingers for lying and shit when dude had to open his big ass mouth and announce that I don’t have to worry because trust he does not want my ass and if we weren’t stuck out in the middle of no where and he had his car he would leave.


Did he just insult me, I was thinking because trust the feeling is mutual.

So I had to have some slick shit to say because shit it wouldn’t be me.

So I went for the low blow followed by the jab to the face and mentioned that since he got dumped doesn’t that mean no one wants him because I have someone at home but we can’t say the same for him right?

Shut him the fuck up. Yeah nigga face was looking a little salty.

I will give him credit though. He did get some jabs in during the night and after awhile we warmed up to one another if not to trade insults with one another.

Like when he said I should watch my alcohol intake since it was obvious that I was carrying a “little one” judging by my stomach pudge.

Yeah that shut me down for a hot second. I almost choked on my salad laughing at that one because it was nicely executed.

I tipped my hat to that one.

Oh course my girl and her guy were rolling because they thought we were hitting it off.

I won’t even get into the argument we had over Jay Z’s new album which I think sucks but apparently I was talking to one of Jay Z’s biggest fan and he took personal insult like Jay Z is his daddy or something.

Yeah I got the CD, I downloaded that shit off the internet because I would have been mad if I wasted $18 bucks *or whatever cds cost nowadays* on that crap.

I hate when people try to bring up the entire history of rap/hip-hop in an argument like I know half of the artists they’re spitting. It still won’t change my mind on how I feel.

Let it be known that while I appreciate music and I do enjoy it sometimes, I’m just not a rap/hip-hop fan. I listen to artists that I personally enjoy and that doesn’t make I can quote every single album, single, or lyrics by heart.

I like only TWO Jay Z albums and that’s it. I’ve listened to his other albums but it’s only two that I personally enjoy.

That being said Kingdom Come sucks. You can tell when his heart is into it and when he’s just cranking out some shit to get people off his back about making another album.

And once again, 99% of shit that’s out is fake as shit. I don’t believe a word that being spit.
We don’t believe you, you need more peoples.

So I told him to hop off Jay Z’s 40 year old nut sack like he needed dude to co-sign about his album because he needed to go back to the studios for that shit.

Of course I was all kinds of “haters” and “I’m mad because I can’t rap” and I’m “jealous” that Jay Z has money *which wasn’t even part of the argument at hand but you know folks are quick to bring money into an argument like I’m sitting at home in the dark mad because Jay Z is worth 50 million and I’m worth like…well whatever is in my checking and savings*

And trust considering the shit that’s cranked out today I can sooo be MC Tenacious rocking the mike. All I need is a fucked up Remy weave, some gold teeth, a hot beat and a title proclaiming I’m Queen of the Midwest and bam! Platinum right there.

MTV Cribs here I come…straight Redman’s style.

But before we could whip out the razor blades on one another and take it to the streets straight Ghetto style, the check came.

And see E a sista paid her own tab because I was not about to let that fool pay for anything that is mine since he went on some tirade that women are “Gold Diggers” or some foolishness like that.

Guess old girl ganked him for all he got because there was a strong taste of bitterness in that mouth of his.

Now I wanted to go home and he wanted to go home but oh no it’s time to party. You know I cursed her ass out in the car, right?

Thus we hit this little sports bar in Matteson, IL that I dubbed Cheers because everyone knew these damn guys!

We settle into a booth where the first rounds of many insued. I can’t tell you what I drunk outside of my rum&coke, vodka&OJ, and a shot of Patron because we were getting drinks left and right.

Of course drinks loosen you up so me and dude called a truce and began relating funny stories to one another. I felt kind of bad about my low blow from earlier because he told me his girl had cheated on him with a good friend of his and she broke up with him to go with the other guy.

But before you know it, my girl and I were slapped. Like falling out of the chair drunk.

And then the DJ started to play some of our cuts so what did we do as drunken chicks? Naturally hop our drunken asses on the table and begin to dance. We’re wobbling, table wobbling and we’re trying to dance on the table Coyote Ugly style.

By the time we were yanked off the table, the damage had been done. Suddenly we had the attention of everyone in the sports bar. Namely the men. And the drinks began coming again.

We rejected most of them, I mean we were drunk already, and our gentlemen friends were not pleased by the attention we brought on ourselves but you can’t debate with drunk ass chicks.

Especially us two who is prone to hearing loss not to mention belligerence. I’m a happy drunk until you make me mad.

The men took it as a sign of disrespect that guys, who obviously saw us with men, were buying us drinks, virtually ignoring them while we saw it *through Drunko-Vision* that the dudes buying us drinks were suckers because we weren’t drinking them, we were giving them away.

And since I was not fucking either guy I could care less.

After being led off of the dance floor by one of the bouncers who decided we were acting a little too “loose” on the dance floor, we left.

See I left before I could get kicked out, good shit right?

We were driving home where I slept on the ride home only to wake up the whole neighborhood with our drunken screeches of affection.

After trying *and failing* at trying to open the door, I finally screamed for my mother to come let me in the door.

Of course my keys didn’t work because as I said early I was trying to use my VA keys instead of my Chi-Town keys.

Was placed in the bed so I can sleep off my drunken slumber.

Apparently I was drunk texting again.

Ima really need to put a lock on my phone while drinking.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Happy New Year And All That Good Stuff

**Side note: Great. I entered 2007 with a nice lovely cold.

Yes the germ infested children that I adore has plagued me with yet another virus. I swear these kids steady keeps me with a cold. Never fails every time I go home, I’m sick by the time I hit the DC area.

This entry would have been posted yesterday but I was too sick to crawl out of the bed. Besides I’ve only managed to stay up for 20 minute intervals.**

Well I’m back like cooked crack.

Even though…technically uncooked crack is basically cocaine right? And when did crack go out of style? And crack cooked is the only way it can become…well crack right?

*sigh* Too much thinking makes my head hurt.

Let’s see my Christmas was prosperous. I got a nice come-up once again from family and friends. Even though I have to politely tell folks every year to stop buying me so much body wash with everything. I have too much as it is. I don’t need money and Bath and Body Works *although I will take it* I seriously have a year’s supply of body wash, lotions, and sprays.

Or are folks trying to tell me I stink? *lol*

Christmas I was in DC and I actually volunteered my services to work. Never again will I do that shit. Let’s see I had less than 20 people to come in and how about….4 came in my entire shift? Yes eight hours of *paid* boredom but still boredom.

Since I have practically been off of work since roughly Christmas you know what I have been doing….sleeping and eating.

Yup on my days off a sista chill in her PJs and maybe go out for air every once and awhile. I know…so lazy.

JBN and I drove to Chicago this time. Ok well he drove and I slept off and on. Never will I do that again. I see I am too “good” for road trips. I just can’t do it. Forced to listen to Jay Z, Weezy, Joe Budden, Beenie and a list of rap stars I can care less about for half of the trip after I wore him out listening to my cds.

Not to mention the driving part. I don’t know ever since my car accident last year I am so anxious about being on the expressway with anyone so it comes off as back seat driving when I’m really paranoid. I mean I am watching you like a hawk while driving. Not only that he’s stubborn so he don’t really believe in making pit stops so I’m up making sure he doesn’t fall asleep and we crash into the mountains. Not to mention I am terrified of being next to trailer trucks. I hate those trucks with a passion.

Blame my overactive imagination but I am convinced one day one of the trucks will flip over and crush me. And it doesn’t take much for one of them to flip over.

I just freak out when I’m close to a truck and of course there were dozens of trucks so you know I was fighting sleep to keep my eye on the trucks.

I’m weird I know.

Once again, never will I ride in a car again to Chicago. I’ll take my chances with the plane from now on.

I’ll stick with flying.

But I’ll still claw the escape door off and jump off if need be.
By the time we finally made it to Chicago I was too tired to do anything Friday so I stayed in the house. A couple of my old peoples from down the block spotted me walking down the street and to “celebrate” my engagement *Um yeah that happened back in August but free booze is free booze* we got some old time favorites and got drunk and reminisced on the good times. Now sober I can’t believe we did half the shit we did in High School. Maybe I was bad as shit in High School only I didn’t get caught.

Maybe I am more devilish that I give credit for *lol*

Saturday I went out with friends and surprise surprise got slapped. My girl and I did a rendition of Vanity 6’s Nasty Girl table top dancing, singing at the top of our drunken lungs. I’m surprised we weren’t booted out but then again…it’s Chicago. They have fist fights, stabbings and shootings in the parking lot to be worried about.

I don’t even know what we were drinking but whatever it was we got slapped pretty quickly. And once the DJ started playing our songs, oh it was a wrap.

Stumbled home in the wee hours of the morning and had to holler for my mother to open the door because I couldn’t get the key to fit.

I was trying to use my house keys. Yeah I was that fucked up.

My mother just clicked her tongue and pushed my drunken ass in the bed.

See friends are bad influences. I had no intentions of drinking that night.

Especially since she thrust me into a double date.

Lesson #5- I don’t do double dates. Ever.

Due to some, um, rather problems with them I avoid them like a plague.

But *sigh*….LONG STORY. I’ll have to make a separate post about that since that was the most interesting thing I did while in Chicago.

My New Years was great. I got drunk *as usual* and hung with friends. I mean we got extremely drunk. I had my personal 5th of vodka and I had a little Moet and some Henn of course. Just sloppy. I must have drunk dialed/texted about a dozen people.

Of course to wake up to voicemails and reply texts. Um yeah…my bad. I couldn’t even tell you half the crap I’ve said and texts but from what I have been told it was quite some hilarious stuff.

We were so drunk by midnight folks were singing the “New Year’s Song” *damn if I did not forget the name…eh too lazy to google it, yall know what I’m talking about* even though of course we know no one knows the words. Just mindless chatter and what we thought the lyrics were. We are so sending that in to Def Jam.

And I won’t get on the argument on whether a not Missy was performing on one of the channels we were watching for New Years. It was Shereefa. Um yeah….we were that fucked up. And we followed that up with whether that was Shareefa or Shawnna. This led into a discussion on celebrity gossip. Which led into a discussion on baby names.

You know I was out of the last one right?

I was scantily clad *as usual* and damn near froze to death *as usual* but I was looking good…until about 12:45. There were a bunch of unknown chicks there side eyeing me but trust Ray Ray did not have to worry about me coming over to holler so they could have loosened the grip they had on their man. Either I knew every guy there or I just wasn’t that drunk where everyone looks good. I hate when females do that because if I wanted him trust baby I would take him. Don’t watch me, watch TV.

I can’t help if I was looking kinda fly. Ok fly until the alcohol started taking control.

Then it went all downhill.

I think I went to sleep/passed out at about 3am. Woke up with a hangover, voice mails and texts. I am dangerous with a phone while drinking. I’m glad I don’t have any old dips in my phone because I probably would’ve cursed their asses out *as usual*.

After bumming around the house for a nice minute, I finished the rest of my packing and prepared for another head splitting trip back to DC which took forever because we took a lot of pit stops and went to sleep for about two hours once we hit Maryland.

Never again yall.

The past couple of weeks have been pretty boring actually. And I’m sick as shit but that’s not going to stop me from hitting this work related function tonight and maybe going out this weekend. I got my tissue and Vicks ready. I’ve wrapped myself in a thick blanket to “sweat” the fever out and I even took some ‘Tussin although cough syrup doesn’t work.

And you already know I hit the doctor’s office this morning begging for some Morphine or Penicillin.

Although I hate when I go to the doctor and the first place they want to send me is to the lab for Urine and Blood samples. Damn did you not get blood last month? Why can’t you use that old blood shit filling up an entire test tube and shit for only two drops of blood? And thanks, now I gotta drink hella water and pace the room since I’ve already taken a piss.

And the most important question: What does this have to do with my cold?

Shit like that makes me paranoid and make me think I have something serious. Because you know I’m fucking up the doctor’s office if anything comes back positive right? Maybe even the doctor if it’s the wrong type of positive.

Even ordered a pregnancy test. Which is a joke and a half. We all know ain’t no baby popping out of this vagina anytime soon. But apparently since I take my pills continuously *like I haven’t done that before* I’m putting myself at risk.

Once again, what does this have to do with the runny nose and cough?

Damn just can’t go in for something simple. I’m like, “Well maybe I should get an X-Ray and MRI just in case while I’m here” and she’s like, “Well…Do you have time?”

WTF? Oh yeah so I can get that bill at the end of the month? Yeah aiight ain’t gonna be zapping me with all kind of radiation so I can get cancer or some shit. Shit do they know how long it took to grow my hair? I will NOT be walking around with a fucked up wig on looking like Ashy Larry and shit. Or worse a crackhead. You know folks will not believe I’m on Chemo. They’d be like yeah she on something aiight…that crack is what the fuck she’s on.

Speaking of crackheads, gosh I miss Chicago Crackheads. I could have gotten a brand new DVD player still in the box *never mind someone’s crib might’ve gotten broken into for it* for a hot $10. But my hating ass Mama *lol* told him No. I was heated. How dare she tell him no? Shit do she not know for an extra dollar or two he’ll come hook it up AND give you free Showtime?

Crackheads are very resourceful. When they want to be.

Ok I’m getting sleepy again. I’ll post the Saturday story later.

I’m glad to see everyone alive and well for the ’07. Hope the holidays were exciting for you 