Wednesday, June 30, 2010

On The Road Again

I haven't been this geeked about going home in a long time.

I mean don't get me wrong- I LOVE Chicago. It's hard to describe my affection for Chicago but it's my hometown.

I love everything about Chicago (except the weather).

Especially the weather. I've never known 4 seasons until I moved to Virginia--heck I didn't know Spring and Fall existed until 2005.

Naturally there will be stories--two of the "Four Musketeers" will be in Chicago (Me, Best Friend with my name, and ATL Best Friend)-- San Antonio BF can't make it.

We haven't been to Chicago-at the same time- in years. It's usually 2 or 3 of us in Chicago at the same time- and never the same combination lol

I have 7 people that I consider best friends--my best friends are more than just friends to me--they are family. These 7 people are the closest thing to people really knowing me because each person is completely different- yet the same.

Each person is also very special to me.

I know I am not the easiest person to get along with--my stubbornness is legendary and cutting people off is not hard for me to do. I also know that I can be a real bitch sometimes--hey it's acknowledged and understood.

I've grown up with these people- hell these friends remember skinny, awkward, goofy me. Since I did look like the stereotypical nerd (wardrobe aside) I was very self-conscious. I still am (sometimes).

Recently (via Face book--It has its sweet moments) I found my old best friend.

Now not that long ago, I found my other elementary best friend. We connected but naturally time and other circumstances changed things so we're not as cool as I thought we would be. We've talked on the phone a few times's just not there anymore.

Through her I found out that our other mutual best friend was alive and well, has a child, blah blah, however they are no longer friends. Considering that these two ladies were best friends long before I came in the picture--I was shocked. Sure from what I remember, they always fought like an old married couple but I was very surprised to learn they were no longer friends--especially when I've reconnected with one.

Call me silly but I had visions of our old friendship reconnecting as if we've never lost touch after Freshman year of High School.

Based on how her tone of voice was and the fact that they were no longer friends (I naturally assumed that she erased numbers as I do), I did not ask for the other friend's number.

Lo and behold a couple of weeks ago--I received a friend request from this best friend.

I won't take credit--it took a bored night on face book to find the 1st friend and although there were several people with the same name none had pictures so I had to wait until someone posted a picture (I was NOT going to be lame and send messages to ALL those girls fishing to see if one was my friend).

However due to the diligence of another friend from elementary school (who I believe found almost everyone on face book (even an old teacher) from our elementary school) it was confirmed that I was, well, me.

For the record--naturally my last name has changed and I look NOTHING like I did in elementary school. Ya girl has filled up and out--and my hair is combed lol

And yes I was a lame--I was tooooooo happy!!

We exchanged numbers and called each other within minutes.

And honestly--it was like nothing has changed.

We picked right up where we left off (after hours of catch up that is).

It was funny because she commented that I am still the same person from elementary school. She was worried that I had changed but she was like the moment I said her childhood nickname--she began cheesing.

Not that we ended our friendship on bad terms--a dispute over a phone charge meant the end of our house phone. Not to mention we all went to different high schools. And in typical Chicago fashion--we didn't go into each other neighborhoods.

Ok well that's not entirely true--when I lost my phone, my mother was still super strict on my movements--basically I could only ride the bus alone to and from school.

And since I still have a bad memory when it comes to phone numbers, eventually I lost their numbers.

I did meet 3 of my future best friends however- and I guess the rest is history.

However I never forgot those two friends and it was always a series of events that prevented us from meeting up as we became adults. I knew people who went to both of their high schools, but as I figured, they operated on the outside of high school hierarchy (same as I) so while people "knew" them, they didn't "know" them.

I found out why they fell out--well one side of the story.

I have yet to catch up with the other to hear her side.

--I like to hear both sides of the story. One thing I don't do is play favoritism--right is right and wrong is wrong in my book.

I won't lie--what I heard deeply disturbed me--and made me very sad. From what I understand, this friend has led a life that makes me clutch my pearls. It is not the person that I knew--but again we lost touch just as we were getting interested in boys...and life.

And I'm unsure on how to proceed because based on the stories that I was told--how do you simply state "yes, you've done all of that" when most people would deny deny deny?

For example- I heard this friend sleeps with all of her "friends" boyfriends and take some type of sick pleasure in doing it.

And this is among other stuff that I was told.

I had the childish hope of reconnecting the two, thinking that they had a petty argument--but it is clear that that is not the case.

I am excited about seeing this friend face to face.

The Kid has returned to the Chi

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Bad Influence

So apparently I'm a bad influence--grown as hell (27) yet I'm still influencing folks to do shit

I fucking guess

I can only laugh and shake my head.

I'm always amused by how I'm a bad influence- yet I turn out better than the person I've influenced to do "bad" shit.

Catching up with an old friend via Facebook (AKA The Devil's Playpen--the playground is reserved for that mess named Twitter) she had to the nerve to say that she think I was a bad influence on her.

And was dead ass serious.

I had to side-eye the shit out of my monitor--I mean this isn't the 1st time someone has called me a bad influence (and actually meant it).

Yeah in High School I cut class- boy I was glad our phone got cut off my junior year of high school because my mother would have been pissed to find out how many times I've actually cut school.

I didn't cut school to go over some guy's house (ok ok maybe once or twice- DJM), to smoke weed, to drink (again maybe once or twice- stop judging) but because, shit, I just didn't feel like going to school. It got to the point that school was boring. Apathetic teachers. Students who came to school based on what was on TV or to show off the latest Jordans. Random fist fights and security sweeps. I was just over it by Sophomore year. And it's not like I cut alone- I always had my partners in crime with me. And if anything I was peer pressured to leave school.

(That's my story and I'm sticking to it).

Yet these broads were never accused of being a bad influence.

We'd spend our day at some one's house with absentee parents and zone out in front of the TV or stereo until it was time to go home. Rarely did we take advantage of no parents in the house- our most daring thing was probably eating in some one's "off limits" living.

Yes I take pride in being, for the most part, a good kid.

Yet I still graduated #1 in my class AND went to a four year university AND graduated in four years with a degree.

However I was the "bad" influence---um your child didn't even graduate!

If anything sticking with me would have at least gotten you in the top 50 and admission into a community college of your choice.

I wasn't even fucking when your child was fucking yet it's my fault your daughter had 5 kids by 6 different men. It's my fault your son doesn't take care of his children.

...but I'm childless though.

Can't keep a job more than six months- definitely got to be my fault.

Yet I've kept the same job for pretty much 5 years- never late and have glowing recommendation (as long as no one peers too hard in my file in HR). I've never quit a job just because I couldn't get Friday off so I can get my hair and nails done. I've never been fired for arriving to work at noon...when my start time was 8 am. I've never been escorted off property for stealing (notice I said stealing lol).

Oh you still live at home with your moms yet can't lift a finger to pay the light bill. My fault too.

I've been out of my mother's house really since my high school diploma was in my hands- hell my room was turned into the "guest" room the week after I graduated.

As if a two bed room apartment required a guest room but Moms was on that fake bougie shit at the time.

I've never crawled back home with my tail tucked between my legs- and I have no intentions on ever being that person. One thing I love about my mother is she taught me the true meaning of independence.

Although, truth be told, watching my mother go through common pitfalls made me really not want to be like her too much-my mother has the worst money management skills I've ever seen in my life.

But that's my mother though- she knows she has bad money management skills yet made sure that I did not.

I had a friend who flunked out of school- bitch really thought she did not have to attend class- talking about she's going to "teach herself"

*side eye*

Yet when her parents caught wind and all but demanded she move her high yellow ass back home--whose fault was her lack of dedicated schooling?


I had to let her mother know a few things (I know this now ex-friend lied through her teeth to her moms- made it seem like I had her out on the stroll instead of class) namely- I'm still in fucking school!

Yes we drank all the time, wild parties almost every weekend- that's true.

However hungover or not- I made my way to the bus stop to go on campus for all my classes. Given my colossal flop of a freshman year, I jumped through extra hoops to get my weak ass off of academic probation. I held down a job AND went to school full time. I got tutors. I actually cracked open the books I spend 2 hours waiting in line for. I stalked my instructors via email and office hours.

In other words, yeah I played hard...but I worked even harder.

Don't blame your child's failures on me.

I remember when my ex boyfriend's father basically called me trash and stated I wasn't good enough for his son.

Basically- hell the man called me trash to my face.

Grown ass man bullying a 16 year old girl- how big of you.

Again, honor roll student, respectful, well groomed (OK well my hair was/is still a mess but anyway...)--sure we lived in the projects. I'm not ashamed to admit it anymore- we were poor. Often very poor growing up- although I didn't realize it until later. Yeah my mother received food stamps (well a Link card- same thing). She wasn't out selling her food stamps- she was making sure her children had food on the table since working 2 jobs could barely cover rent, living expenses, toys, clothing, shoes, etc. Yeah the projects were rough but trust my mother shielded my brother and I from project living (although my brother later embraced ghetto living as if that something to brag about). We were actually the "stuck up" kids on the block because my mother didn't allow us to do half the things other kids parents would allow them to do. Yeah our neighbor's homes often looked like crap but my mother made sure our apartment was always neat and clean. No trash in our bushes and in front of our porch. No roaches. No mice. No one had to walk up pissy staircases and wait for shitty elevators. No drug dealing in front of our house- hell our entire block- the drug dealers had enough respect (and sense) not to slag that shit in front of their own homes. My moms wasn't a crackhead- she get tipsy from a sip of a wine cooler. My mother doesn't even smoke- she gets ill from the smell of cigarette smoke.

All in all, just because I grew up in the projects doesn't mean I was black trash.

I remember his father HATED for his son to come over my house (we had a long standing WWF Thursday Night Smack Down date night) convinced that he was going to robbed, raped, or murdered in the three steps from the curb to our house. I couldn't stay out that late on school nights (although I pressed my luck plenty of times) and his parents worked late on Thursdays so we couldn't stay at his home unchaperoned (for *gasp* we might have had sex or something). Wasn't allowed to drive the car over because someone might "break" in the car or "car jack" him for the car (as if car jacking existed in Chicago after 1993).

And now that I'm older I look at it as it's reasonable to have stereotypes about the projects- Hell I have stereotypes about the projects. I can't tell you the last time my black ass have even darkened the West Side of Chicago. I don't even like driving through the Ickies in Chicago. I haven't viewed my childhood neighborhood in years. I claim the '9 (79th & Ashland) and not 131st street, where I lived from age 5-17. I lock the car doors if I even see "SE" on a street name in DC. I assume that I can't rock the Coach bag when in a "rough" neighborhood in DC. Hell in Chicago, I take my wedding ring off when walking down certain streets in Chicago.

*end repressed bitterness rant*

But his father was soooooo extra- like it was his mission to break up us. And his father was a deacon.

Since I was a bad influence on his son.

Now look at me- happily married, stable job, live in a nice neighborhood, has a Bachelor's degree with a Master to follow. Married a great man who's well on his way to a PH.D before he's 30. No children (with the exception of my 4 year old tabby cat), no extended jail stints, no diseases--nothing.

Maybe people are right- I am a bad influence.

I guess when others look at my life and where I'm going, it's just a sign to give up hope and resort to fuckery.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

So I'm a big softie...

I won't front...

I cried like a baby watching Toy Story 3

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a movie that pulls at the heart string

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Man That's That Bull......

I wish I could say I had stories about my trip to Atlanta.

However I spent less than 24 hours in Atlanta.

Not to mention my bank account is now about $600 leaner.

NONE of them broads came to Atlanta- All but one on some bullshit excuse.

So you know I was hotter than fish grease.

And people wonder why I am extra selective on whom I go out of town with.

Spoke to my best friend (the birthday girl- the whole reason we were going to Atlanta) on Wednesday and Thursday morning- all was a go. Spoke to my other girl on Wednesday- shit was a go.

Called before I left the airport- shit was still a go. My girl was at work and they were getting on the road that night

(Never mind that when I purchased my plane ticket and reserved the hotel room everything said arrival THURSDAY and then I was hit with the “Well we’re going to make it a road trip and drive” with arrival time Friday but whatever)

Cheap bitches. I should’ve known some bullshit was going to go down- who knowingly likes to be on the road 8-10 hours?

After the flight from hell (Air Tran will never get another dime of my $$)

I mean I got to the airport NO ONE is at any of the counters. I was already annoyed because I tried to check in the day before and that morning and I kept getting error messages- but damn, no one is at counter?

Then the $15 bag fee *sigh* that’s that bullshit for real

Then there was Bitchy McBitchy and her mom (I guess it was her moms) who COMPLAINED from start to finish. Heifer had the nerve to cop an attitude because she had to check her FULL SIZE luggage “carry on”….I mean seriously- she knew DAMN WELL that big ass suitcase was not fitting under the seat OR the overhead compartment

Bitch stop playing

So to tune out the nagging, I put my headphones and snuggled under my Hello Kitty blanket *shut up*

I wake up- why is this broad under MY fucking blanket?!

I mean mad comfortable and shit then smiling at me and shit- Naw hoe I don’t play with my Hello Kitty shit. Shit pay about $100 for that lice infested brillo pad they call a blanket.

Then because we got to Atlanta extra early- we had to circle the airport. I swear we flew to Florida and back.

Turn on my phone- I got like a 90 page text message story.

What had happened was…

Story of my motherfucking life.

So originally it was six of us- me, Birthday Girl, Best Friend #2, Best Friend #2’s sister, Birthday Girl’s cousin, and Birthday Girl’s friend.

Oh…Birthday Girl’s friend decides she want to get another tattoo- yeah, another motherfucking tattoo- before she leaves for Atlanta on her other leg. Ohhhhh the tattoo artist goes too deep or some shit and fucks her entire leg up. She can’t walk- so she’s out.

We’re down to five people.

Then ohhhh Best Friend #2 and her sister just “remember” they have to attend a funeral Friday.

Now keep in mind I spoke to her on Wednesday. NO mention of any death. Birthday Girl spoke to her Monday, Tuesday AND Wednesday- no mention of a funeral. Birthday Girl calls her to let her know she’s picking them up soon- and NOW all of a sudden there’s a funeral to attend.

Now come on now- I don’t know ANY black funeral where someone is buried the same week he or she dies.

So I’m like, “Who is this person? What are they, Muslim?”

Like who just “remembers” they have to attend a funeral? Clearly you are not close to that individual if you weren’t aware he or she died in the first place but whatever.

So by then Birthday Girl is pissed (and I was extremely pissed as I’ve heard the story an hour later)
Best Friend #2 is like “well the funeral starts at 12, the repast is over by maybe 6, oh and I have to get my hair done, so maybe we can leave Friday night”

Hellllssss toooo the naw

What sense does that make?

So Birthday Girl is extremely pissed because it was Best Friend #2’s idea to drive in the 1st place! Birthday Girl wanted to catch a flight- like me, we are NOT road trippers- but she was convinced to take a chance and take this road trip.

So Birthday Girl is like well fuck yall we’re leaving tonight

So six people are now down to 3 people- me, Birthday Girl, and her cousin.

Meanwhile I am in Atlanta fuming.

Its one thing that I’m in Atlanta a full day before everyone else but I see right now I’m going to have to head back to DC.

Although my other best friend lives in Atlanta, our wires got crossed, and he thought we were coming next week (now this week) so he planned on going back to Chicago the same weekend I was in Atlanta

(Although like a real friend he offered to cancel his flight and remain in Atlanta)

So by this time I’m at Gladys Knight’s joint with my best friend and his friends- they’re listening to me Jap out on the phone- I’m like call me when you hear from your cousin.

Birthday Girl- like me- is not a night time driver. In addition, as pissed as I am, I did not want her on the road, alone, trying to drive to Atlanta.

So after eating, I went to my hotel (oh the Ritz by the way- an indulgence for the best friend- um yeah but don’t think I paid retail- DISCOUNT baby!)

Flawless property. I was fawned over so much it was embarrassing.

I’m in the room bitching to Hubby, bitching to my other best friends, and more importantly calling the suspect broads I call friends (no answers from them- FYI its Thursday- I haven’t heard from them since last week)

Birthday Girl called.

Ohhhhh well her cousin juuuussst remembered she had to pay her gas bill otherwise it was going to get cut off so she can’t go.

Right- the ol’ “my utility bill is overdue” excuse. Last time I checked you’d have to be behind quite a few months in order to get service disconnection. In addition- how early do you get your gas bill?

Right- that bullshit.

So my planned trip of debauchery and sexual harassment collapsed right before my eyes.

I’m like this is some bullshit and don’t ever EVER ask me to go out of town with any of yall for any reason- that $ (meaning the original flight and the stay at the hotel) could have been used for another trip.

Hell I could’ve stayed at the Courtyard for about $30 with my discount!

So in the morning I checked out and went back to the airport.

A return flight cost me an additional $213- pretty much the price I originally paid for the round trip flight.

Plus that damn $15 bag fee.

Then every time I turned around some dude was all up in my face (I mean seriously- do all the straight men in Atlanta work at the Airport?) and checking out my ass.

I mean I was wearing my uniform of a t shirt and leggings- but come on now?

The chick who served me my Midnight Train to Georgia had a bigger ass than me

(Then again she was from the Chi as…Midwestern Chicks have ass too you know)

Asking me if my ass was real? Do I get injections? Do I take my clothes for money (only when times are hard lol)…I mean really- dude can you please check my boarding pass so I can go through security?

Offering to buy me Popeye’s and shit (I won’t lie- I was tempted- fuck what you heard- I love Popeye’s biscuits)

Trying to take pictures on the sneak tip (FYI- turn the fucking sound off the next time- jerk face)

So I was back in DC less than 24 hours after I left that bitch.

Hot and annoyed.

Left one oven (Atlanta- boy I don’t see how people can do it- almost sweated my damn perm out) for another oven.

So I don’t have any real pictures of Atlanta


Take 2 of Atlanta will hopefully happen by the end of the summer.

Some straight bullshit.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

ATL Shawty

Ok so I meant to write on Monday as promised but see what had happened was…..

Now I did have a quite hilarious story but between completing a three slide power point on the ethics of online advertising *fail* and straight clowning on the Vh1 Honors (if that’s what they want to call that epic fail of an award show) via G-Chat with my best friend- who had me in tears from laughing so hard.

I swear I was going to die laughing like the Toon Patrol from “Who Framed Roger Rabbit”?

Speaking of which…ummmm…yeah since I know you’re reading this…you know you’re mopping floors on the 8th circle of hell for talking about Fresh Kid Ice’s arm…and my husband is washing the windows.

But anyway- thanks to those two- the story escaped my thoughts. Well not the story but of course the way I wanted to tell it.

So this weekend my best friends and I are going to Atlanta to celebrate my best friend’s 29th Birthday.

(For the record- I’m now 27- just gotta throw that disclaimer in lol)

Why Atlanta? No clue. But Atlanta was the spot picked this year (last year was New York).

Now my friends are convinced that since Atlanta is the “spot” (allegedly) we’re going to run into a slew of celebrities.

Namely T.I.

My crush of yester-yesteryear.

*sigh* Outside of Prince, he was like the only tiny guy that could get it. And by get it, I mean he could get it with about 4 condoms on and a written contract promising he won’t try to kiss me or anything- I mean cute or not that herpes thing going on around the mouth is really not the business.

I’d hate to have to sue *lol*

Like this guy this weekend. All up in my damn face with a cold sore on the corner of his mouth. Trying to tuck his lip like I can’t see that shit. Talking about “lemme buy you a drink”. How about you let me buy you some Abreva? And shouldn’t you be quarantined or something? Trolling for booty and the lips are looking like the Appalachian Mountains.
*shudders* Cold Sores skeeves me out.

My girl is convinced that we’re going to run into TI out and about (and by run in that probably means low-key stalking) and it’s going to be a wrap.

Had to point out that from what I read on my gossip blogs sites Tiny (bless her heart because the face is just not it anymore) is willing to do anything, and I mean anything *wiggles eyebrows* to keep her man.

I was like face it G, she’s on some other level hoe shit while you’re just on the basic hoe shit.

Just get an autograph and keep it moving.

Of course I will have my trust camera along to record all types of fuckery that is bound to happen. It’s been months since I’ve seen my girls and since I’m the only one that’s married- I have to be able to prove that I can “hang” past 11pm. Shit a sista get sleepy lol

I was damn near going to sleep in the club last Friday- although that was more intoxicated sleep than tired sleep. I had entirely too much Sweet Tea Vodka before leaving and needless to say I was 3 sheets to the wind by the time we darkened the club’s doors. Already had a bouncer side eyeing me- however that was from a previous club incident and he had to throw my friend and I out the club because we (and by we I mean she, I turned my head to talk to someone I knew, next thing you know I was getting dragged out) got into in with the girl who takes money at the door.

Don’t get it twisted- I can still get low wit it- I mean I need help getting off the floor afterwards- but I can still drop it with the best of them. Although I have a feeling the music in Atlanta is going to take me back to 2003-2004 when “crunk” was the shit.

While they plan on spending time trolling for men, I’ll be looking for a shopping buddy

I mean the men in Atlanta do have a nice shoe game *giggles*

Sunday, June 06, 2010

I know I know

I know I'm like that suspect dude that you random meet, get real real cool with, I mean daily conversations, dinner, drinks, get you comfortable enough to give up the Hello Kitty panties after a game of drunken Twister *don't judge*...and then begin playing Jedi mind tricks...pulling disappearing acts and ish...

I think my suspect ass Muse just sent me a text message talking about "What's Up" although we haven't spoken in about two months

I'll be back to blogging on Monday

Although I'm not sure what I want to talk about- this past drunken weekend, my recent trip to LA, work, married life or sex

Or a combination of all of them...