Wednesday, December 31, 2008
So we all know today is the last day of two-double odd-eight. As we arrive on the cusp of the beginnning our 2009th trip since the Death of Christ, around our yellow hydrogen- into- helium- converting- massive center of the Solar System, so comes the tradition of commitments to change/growth/self-discovery and evolution that will accompany each indivdual on the next 365.25 day journey.
The good part about New Year's Resolutions we are human. We are idealistic and hopeful. We tend to take a look inward and examine the things we want to do to improve upon ourselves and hopefully the world in which we live. The bad part about them is that... we are human. We suck at committing to anything, but especially change. That makes us cynical, self-esteem destroying nutcases.
I have come to the point where typical resolutions just don't 'do it' for me anymore. Getting healthy, loving more, learning something new, traveling more or whatever, shouldn't have to wait until New Year's Day before on resolves to make it happen. As the old skool Nike commercials said... JUST DO IT.
So, what is the point of all my preachy-ness above? Where is the funny, you ask? Well, in lieu of regular-ass resolutions, I have made up some new ones that I think people will appreciate.
1. I resolve to never wear matching socks for the rest of 2009. Matching socks was soooo 2008. Mismatching socks is what's hot for the '09! I'mma give myself bonus points if they are visible and horribly mismatched. Think the argyle trouser sock and the stripped trouser sock with flats.
2. I am going to create another nickname for myself. Something random and stupid. Hayle, if Benoncay can call herself Sasha Fierce, then I can call myself something just as moronic. I'm thinking Boomquisha Flyness, Esq.
3. I'm going to start naming more inanimate objects. My car is already Niobi. My ipod, Imelda Marcos II. I think Imma call my couch Mooshie. Maybe I'll name all my shoes (dang, that might take me till 2010)!!!
4. Two words. Pig Latin. I'm-ay esurrecting-ray at-thay.
5. In the languages department, there will be MORE YODA SPEAK. Gone, you thought it was. With a vengance, return it will.
6. I resolve to keep a bottle of liquor in my desk. As the Boy Scouts said... "Always be prepared." I intend to be prepared to get it crunk at all times.
7. In order to survive long ass boring ass meetings, I am going to up my "face making" skills. I intend on attempting to crack up at least one person per meeting.
Seven is my lucky number, so I will stop here.
Have a safe, happy and healthy new year. Be careful and thoughtful in your libations this evening. And for the love of all things good on the Earth, if you have been drinking, PLEASE don't drive.
Peace and love,
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Diddy..... WHAT THE FU*K ARE YOU DOING HERE?! Oh that's right. Being Diddy. Which means 'doing too much' is your natural state of being. Was everybody at this thing confused as to what season it was and WHERE this event was? Not only that, but you must have been confused as to the time of day as well. I mean, ginormous dark sunglasses at night!?!? Is your life so damn sparkly bright that you gotta wear shades? Reminds me of that song:
"I wear my sunglasses at night so I can **mumbles** something, something/ I wear my sunglasses at night [duh nuh nuh nah nuh nuh nuh ]..... DON'T MESS AROUND WITH THE MAN IN SHADES, OH NO! OH NO!!!"
Alas for you... doing to much=ASSAULT ON MY EYES. Sat DOWN Diddy.
Mama Tina... Mama Tina...
I know you done birthed some babies and lived some life and your figure ain't exactly what is used to be (but its still tight... i give credit where it is due). But DANG IT, you could have done SO MUCH BETTER THAN THIS!!!. Maybe you didn't want to steal the spotlight from your darling baby (who seems quite adept at keeping her spotlight well focused on herself anyway) which would explain why you look so.... desperately dowdy. I mean, you are the mama of one of the most self- proclaimingest- diva- wannabes on the face of the Earth. You are the co-conspirator, I mean creator, behind House of Damnitswrong ooops, I MEAN Dereon. Sorry. You would THINK your outfit would, um... not look like something I wore to work last week. I mean seriously, I own a dress that looks strikingly simliar to this one... and I wear it to WORK. At the health department. yeeeeahhh.
Not only do I wear it to work, but, dare I say it, I wear it BETTER THAN YOU. Wanna know why? Two words... PROPER SHAPEWEAR. Oh yeah... and something else addressed below*
I have just a couple of teeny tiny questions for you, Mama Tina.
1) Why do your boobs look like they are running away from your collar bone? Seriously, looking like they are making a break for the border... between your navel and your girlie parts. My mama is about to turn 60, and her boobs are perkier looking than yours. As a 'fashion' designer, you of all people should know a good bra is a busty girl's BEST FRIEND.
*2) I gotta give you credit... the rest of your figure is RIGHT. But I'm looking at you and it looks like you are having trouble breathing. That dress is tight, huh? A little too tight perhaps? No disrespect, but you ain't her sister, you are her mama. Dress accordingly. Thanks.
For all of the above.... EPIC FAIL.
Mos Def(initely NOT!!!)
This pic was smaller than the others, but I want you all to look and see if you see what it is that I see when I see this SADNESS here. (that was fun)
Is it just me or does my boy Mos Def look like he got caught in a rain storm of "Aw Hayle NAW!". He's trying to be dapper but ends up looking like a well dressed homeless guy. What is going on wit that hat??? Did he get caught in the rain? Were you trying to rakishly tip it to one side? Either way... nuh uh.... LOSE THE HAT. Next up is that topcoat with what looks like a Manchester Prep crest on it.... Yo Mos, you borrowed your nephew's private school uniform... right? That has to be the explanation for this mess right here! I mean you seriously didn't BUY that coat, DID YOU?!?!?!?! And as for the bow tie.... JUST STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW. But then again... Talib was always the better dressed out of BlackStar, wasn't he? Yep, thought so.
One more... this isn't a fashion roast so much as EVIDENCE for the fact that Neyo just needs to hurry up and come on out of that stuffy musty dusty ass closet.
What in the TANGY ZESTY SWEET 'N FRUITY HELL is that handshake all about? Made even zestier by the schmedium jeans, skully and AGAIN, with the SUNGLASSES AT NIGHT. Guess he didn't want Jigga man to catch him checking out his package....
This concludes the roast of the Cadillac Records Movie Premier. Hope you didn't choke on your Cap'n Crunch while giggling. If you did, be aware that you can't sue me. I ain't got no money no kinda way.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
I spits hot FIYAH!!!
**In the style of Public Service Announcement by that eight figga ni**a Jigga**
Allow me to reintroduce myself...My name is B.. B M to the O see/
I reside in the State of New Jersey/
For me blogging is that crack, you see me/
I also dip my quill on that poetry.
Biostatistics is my day job/
but I wish I was stackin paper off of my straight fiyah blog!
Chronicles of a LostWomanchild, holla at me/
I'll keep you rollin offa blackgirl insanity.
Self proclaimed fashion and shoe addict/
I love roasting those dressing like they got a drug habit/ UH!
Happily married is my night gig/
we do the damn thing but we still ain't got kids!
**Drops the mic**
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Now that you have been teased and titillated by part one, it is time for the roast to ensue. The Movie Premier that was one big fashion "What in the SAM HILL?!"
I just wanted to remind y'all how WRONG Bey's dress is.
Do you see this? It looks like a Hefty Bag stretched over her goodies... with a cape. And then the bottom... what is going one exactly? Is that House of Damnitswrong embroidery/sequins on it?
Next victim: Adrien Brody
What exactly is going on with Adrien Brody?? Why does he look like a bootleg dirty replica of the typical image of my Lord and Saviour? Why?!?! Couldn't (wouldn't) see a barber, Brody? Just because you got money you can look like an ant farm is taking up residence in your facial hair?! I think not. EPIC FAIL.
Cedric the Entertainer
Homie, why are you doin too much? You looking good man. You dropped some weight... but also lost your damn SAT DOWN sense. What is with the scarf? Tied thickly around your (no)neck? Wasn't this premiere in LA? Since when is a scarf needed in LA... ever? Oh I get it, you listened to that song about the guys waving their designer scarves all over the place in the ultimate show of bitchassness. I know you ain't no high fashion dude, but seriously, this is ASSAULT on my eyes. SAT DOWN.
You know, I think Gabrielle is one of the most beautiful women on Earth. And generally speaking, she dresses well. But seriously WTF Gabby??!?! You fucked up not once, but TWICE?! Da hell? Did you give your stylist a fruit cake for Christmas? Run over her dog with your car? Tell her her breath smelled like head cheese? Because these faux pas are payback for SOMETHING. First of all, did they run out of clear gel deodorant at your local drug store? I can send you some mama. Seriously.
Next the dress... where do I begin. Where are her breasts?. Just lookin like a 12 year old girl. It would be otherwise hot if it was cut correctly, but it aint. So its wrong. Just WRONG.
Toccara, I am MAD at you mama. For a number of reasons, least of all being your outfit.
First, you made us thick girls proud by going on ANTM and wrecking shop as a plus sized model. Then you go and get all.. non plus sized... except for your boobs. Looks like you walking around with two basketballs stuck on your chest. STOP IT.
The dress... HAWT MESS! Too many textures and details going on. Is it sheer layered over satin? Is it lace? Is it a bubble dress? Is it a babydoll? Is it form fitting? Is it loose flowing? WAITAMINUTE... its ALL OF THE ABOVE!!!
**BBMo's eyes are twitching from the pain of assault**
But I could get past the dress if it wasn't for.... YOUR ASHY LEGS PANTYHOSE! Never heard of fleshtone hose?
Girl, it looks like you are ALLERGIC to LOTION. Naw mama. And then... you wear pantyhose with open toed t-strap sandals... and are those your TOES poking out? Oh, and your HAIR. I'm a fan of big hair but you really do look like you got a head full of curly fries. I'mma stop now because I just don't have the energy to expend on your wrongness, Lady. Lawdamussy!
That's all for right now... stay tuned for part 3... the finale of this fashion travesty, the Cadillac Records Premier Roast
Good lawd, you would THINK that with all the money these people have, they could have done better. And OH, how they NEEDED to DO BETTER.
**note, we are not Bey haters. Not by any stretch of the imagination. We just HATE poor fashion choices. And also, no one else will be spared our wrath. (So all you Beyonce stans can just stop it right now. Just stop. No really, I mean it. Don't make me get my belt.) **
Just a li'l teaser based off of the FIRST pic...
BBMo: oh, i just got the pictures of the cadillac records premier... they WILL be roasted on my blog, post haste.
8th Wonder: oh, this I must be a part of
BBMo: lemme forward them to you. comment and send your comments back to me. i'll incorporate them as a guest blog feature
8th Wonder: okay, just off the strength of Jigga's hair, I know I'ma have some thangs to say
BBMo: I'm tellin you!!! I was roasting involuntarily when i saw them the first time. why wasn't his hair combed? and why does he look like Bey's drunken uncle escorting her to the prom?
8th Wonder: okay what kind of pleather monstrosity is Bey's dress made of? Damn you mama Tina, damn you to creole hell!
BBMo: i thought it was more like she took a hefty bag and stretched it over the goodies i mean mean really. just SHINY PLASTIC ALL OVER THE BOOBS... and had the nerve to have a train
8th Wonder: a train of epic sadness *sigh* and this is honestly the first time I've seen her and Hov together and been like WOW, he's way older than her
BBMo: i know! he almost looks older than her daddy. but seriously, he didn't have time to get a haircut? or is he tryina rock a TWA (teeny weeny afro)?
Go now and get you some Depends. And a paper bag. You gon' need it.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
The rules are as follows:
Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.
Tag 7 random people at the end your post, and include links to their blogs.
Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
Seven Random Facts About the Rebel Intellectual
1. You can't see it in my pic, but I have one 'normal' shaped ear and one 'elfin' shaped ear that was a result of an accident as a child.
2. I have 63 (at last count) 1st and 2nd cousins and I have yet to meet my entire family (aunts, uncles, living grandparents).
3. My mom at nothing but black licorice when she was pregnant with me... consequently the smell of licorice of any kind makes me hurl. Twizzlers are scary @ me.
4. I am almost legally blind in one eye
5. I love olive oil and eat it regularly and use it as a moisturizer, but for some reason, I'm allergic to OLIVES themselves.
6. The movie Gremlins scared the crap out of me when I was little and still creeps me out big time as an adult, yet I can watch most other scary movies and just sniff at them.
7. I can't come up with a seventh random fact. Other than I'm just a random ass individual.
I'm going to break a rule here and NOT tag 7 other people. I know. I suck. So sue me.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Time for... Tales from the Relationship Crypt Episode II: Whatever u like...
I have always had a penchant for older men. In fact, my mate is the third youngest person I have been with in my 'adult' relationship life, and he's still got 4 years on me.
Older men tend to me more settled, accomplished, and looking for a nice pretty young thing to wife and knock up... usually. They also tend to come with baggage like ex-wives and children that are old enough to be your siblings.
I met a gentleman who had all of these things going on, except for one crucial element. The ex-wife wasn't an ex, yet. Oh the h3ll that I caught for this one...
I met P.P. while I was teaching in St. Louis (noticing a theme here? lotsa foolishness happened there, prally why I hightailed it out of that city). I was the assistant girls volleyball coach for the school I was teaching and an he was the girls volleyball coach for another high school in the city. We first met at the Saturday season-opening tournament. We had all day to notice each other, casually walk by each other, shake hands when our teams played each other... and when our teams were not playing, we talked. He was so nice. And for an older guy he was exceptionally good-looking. Well built, well groomed, worked out often, and very nicely dressed. On top of all that he was cultured, refined and a true gentleman. He was a history teacher. In the span of a couple of hours we had spoken on politics, art, history, books... yeah, I was feeling this one. And there was NO WEDDING RING.
At the end of the tourney, when we had gotten all our girls on their busses home, he helped me carry my equipment to my car, and loaded it all in for me. We had gotten a light dusting of snow, so he started my car and cleaned the snow off while I sat inside getting toasty. I was floating, and he hadn't even touched me yet.
We exchanged info and he called me the next day. We talked and right off the bat he told me that he had to be "honest" with me. He was "recently divorced" and had two children that were fairly close to my age. He wanted to know if I was okay with this because he was very interested in seeing more of me. Since he came right out and told me the truth, I said I could deal if we took it slow and kept it casual. He was fine with that and proposed taking me out to see a production of the King and I and then dinner at the Millennium Hotel. I thought it was a fabulous idea.
He took me out and showed me a wonderful time. He was every inch a gentleman and at the end of the night, he asked if he could kiss me goodnight. I happily obliged.
After that we saw each other often, but we weren't seriously dating. Since he had just gotten out of a marriage, he was more interested in just spending time in the company of a young lady who he could treat nicely. I couldn't argue with that, but I unconsciously stopped dating other people. We saw each other at games when our team played each other, we would meet for dinner or drinks... just casual.
Our contacts continued through spring into the summer months. He would bring me take out for dinner and a classic flick, bought me small thoughtful trinkets and even bought me some nice earrings for my birthday. One weekend, he asked if he could take me out to the Lake of the Ozarks (St. Louis' best excuse for a beach-- gawd how I missed the ocean when I was living there). There was a resort there and he wanted some company. I thought... sure, why not. When he came to pick me up, he said he had a gift for me. He opened his trunk and in it was a Louis V duffel. He said this would be better than my little black wheely bag that was admittedly beaten to death from frequent use. I was floored. I had NEVER had someone treat me like this.
We had a loverly time that weekend. However, drama ensued the moment we came back.
My apt had street and gated parking. I normally park in the gated lot, but I had left my car on the street over the weekend. When he dropped me off, I saw that my tail light had been busted out. I freaked because I thought someone had tried to steal my car. But then I wondered, why would anyone want to steal a Galant with 2 BMW's and a Mercedes parked on the same block? My gentleman friend offered to pay to have the light fixed. I thought he was being so thoughtful. I should have known his conscience was getting the better of him.
When I got inside, I checked my voicemail... 2 messages from the 'rents, 3 from girlfriends and 2 messages that were 'unidentifed.' Nothing out of the ordinary... or so I thought. Then my phone rang.
Caller " Is P. there?"
Me "um, nooo... can I help you? And who are you?"
Caller "This is P's wife, ho!"
Me "I'm sorry.... wife? And DID YOU JUST CALL ME A HO?!?!"
Angry Wife "Yes. He is my husband and you are the HO he's messin with"
Me " Okay. Um, name calling isn't necessary, P. told me he was divorced. Please don't make me disrespect you. I have always had respect for my elders."
Angry Wife "Did you just call me old, b***h?!?!"
Me "Look, you are mad at the wrong person. He LIED to BOTH of us. Take it up with your cheating husband. You can have him. I don't need him" CLICK
Cell phone rings
**Dear God, don't tell me this heifer has my cell phone number too. How dumb is this f**ker?**
Me looking at phone "oh, its P. that mutha f**ker. Should I pick up or just forget about him now?"
BBMo picks up the phone
Me (in sweet voice to mask seething rage) 'Hello P. Thanks for a nice weekend."
P "Oh you're welcome sweetness. I'm just driving home. Hey, did I leave my sunglasses in your bag?"
Me "No, but you did forget to tell me that YO ASS IS STILL MARRIED!!!
Me "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
P "Who told you I was still married?"
Me "Oh, I don't know, the same person who maybe busted out my tail light and just called to cuss me out?! You should know her... because you are still married to her! You turned me into homewrecker you mutha fu**king asshole (stream of expletives)"
Me "well, aren't you going to say anything!!?"
P "I can't believe you would take her word over mine (BBMo thinks what the F**K?!). I suppose we can't see each other any longer. You can keep the gifts"
Me "you damn right I'm keepin' em! And since its your F**KING fault, I expect a check for my f**kin tail light!!!"
I did receive a check chilluns, after I sent him the invoice from the repairs. I also pawned most of the jewels and those gold earrings.They paid for my vaycay to Key West. But DAMMIT I kept the LV duffel. Its niiiiiiiiiiiice!
Luckily, I never really had to see him again, either professionally or socially. He was a history teacher, so we were never at the same district meetings. And even if he did see me at some school district funtion, I'm fairly sure he turned tail and RAN. Man, that was some SH*T.
Lesson learned: EVEN OLDER GUYS BE ON THAT BULLSH*T! Don't believe the hype!!!
P.S. I debated posting this because...well... WOULD YOU POST THIS IF IT HAPPENED TO YOU?!?!
the things I do for the people...
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Alright... for those of you who follow me (thanks bunches by the way ***Diva Dust (tm) to ALL of you, including those who just stopped by***) I know you were expecting episode II of Tales from the Relationship Crypt. And it shall be posted. It has been written, but something sparked the need for me to post this first.
Funnily enough it might give you insight into why I have a Relationship Crypt (eff a closet, I needed a CRYPT) in the first place.
Over at my now second home on the web VSB.com, a comment thread started where there was discussion about guys sending their friends over to holler, rather than coming over themselves. For most people on there, it was a source of hilarity. For me, however, it kind of opened up some darker memories in my mind.
Let me explain.
The happy-go-lucky, confident (most times), sunshiney, smiling person that is me did not always exist. Ya girl had major self esteem issues back in the day. Matter of fact, they still rear their ugly head from time to time.
These stem from a combination of the fact that I never went to a school where the other girls looked like me-- I always stood out and was thus often mocked-- and that I was (and still PRODULY am a nerd). I am Black. I'm a dark skinned. I am a big (yet quite well proportioned and fit) girl. I looked nothing like my skinny 2520 classmates. This was my environment for my ENTIRE life between kindergarten and 12th grade. Add to this puberty and clinical depression... it was not a pretty picture AT ALL. My mom had me on suicide watch for a couple of months after she found one of her steak knives under my bed. It wasn't until I went to college and met women who looked like me (even though we were still the minority) that I began to 'grow into myself'
So as you can imagine, guys and the thought of dating was a scary place for me. I didn't think anyone had any reason to want me. The world around me (outside of my parents, but they're supposed to say that stuff) didn't tell me that either. Add to that kids are cruel and will have fun at someone's expense gleefully. I didn't trust people.
Okay, so now you have the back story.
Around the time when I was open to meeting people (going to parties, clubs-- being a college student), I ran into this phenomenon of guys sending their friends to talk to me for them. This summarily upset me, and they would never know why their actions evoked such wrath. In short, I thought they were mocking me. I mean, if he was truly interested, why didn't he come up to me himself? Why did he have to send someone to talk to me for him? Was he going to fake interest in order to have a good laugh with his buddies at my expense? All of these things would rush through my head, and there were a couple of jerk-offs for whom my assumptions were correct. The rest of these (possibly nice, shy) guys got the royal cuss out, which sometimes earned me the b***h moniker-- but they never really knew why this was.
Fast forward to college graduation and the prospect of meeting MORE people in my new city and place of employment. I had resolved to be open and had many self-affirmations floating about in my head. I bled confidence and sex appeal because I MADE MYSELF DO SO. I was still a shy and insecure girl. Its just that after a few psych classes, some awesome friends and a couple of nice guys who were NOT jerks, that I was able to work through the shyness and insecurity.
However, I had not yet developed a Bullshit Filter as I possess now. And hence, the Relationship Crypt.
Just thought I'd share a piece of my soul. Hope yall don't mind.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
I hate rude people with a passion. This passion burns with the heat of a thousand red giants. They irk me and if I'm not careful, they can ruin my day. That's not to say that I don't have my moments. As you know, I'm a snarky bi*ch. Sometimes snark can go toO far and then its just rude. But I ALWAYS immediately feel HORRIBLE after I am rude to someone. For cryin out loud, my mom raised me properly. I should act like it from time to time.
But there are some people for whom rudeness is just a state of mind. The essence of their being, if you will. Some of them are so deluded that 1) they have a sense of entitlement that goes beyond the reasonable and into the ridonculous and 2)they don't think they are rude, and in fact think that YOU are rude for pointing out or reacting to their rudeness. How rude!!!!
Two recent events spurred me to write this, and tonight I have time and opportunity since my dear sweet mate is out with his boys and its just to daggone cold for me to want to leave my cozy home. Also, I have two pies (sweet potato and cherry)and a cake (Jewish Apple) in the oven for Thanksgiving. Ya girl can burn in the kitchen. In once instance, I reacted and let it ruin my night. In the other, I just kept it moving and am now giggling my ass off about the whole thing.
Rude happening numero uno:
One evening I was leaving work and walking to my train down Broad Street. I had several bags in my hand was arguably taking up more than my fair share of sidewalk space. I knew this, so I was consciously avoiding taking people out and apologizing if I happened to tap people. Most people were quite understanding and even moved out of my way. As I turned the corner around the Academy of Music, I saw three tallish 2520 men walking towards me. They were walking side by side, taking up the ENTIRE sidewalk. As I approached, I naturally assumed that one or more would step aside to let me pass. As I got closer, I realized they had NO intention of doing that. So I did what any self respecting sista would do. I barreled my way on through and damn near knocked two of them over. I got a cacophony of dirty looks and even a barely audible "rude b*tch". 2520snigletsaywhatnah?!?!?! I could have ignored the dirty looks but said comment gave me pause. I stopped. I turned. I looked them in their faces. The look I gave them must have been pure hatred because their eyes got as big as saucers. Very calmly with my signature attitude and tall straight posture I said "that's right, I am a bitch. Matter of fact I am Boss Bitch. Now, bitchasses, kneel and kiss da muddafuggin ring. On second thought, my fingers don't want the herps." And I walked off.
Admittedly that was not the smartest thing to do, because I think they may have been slightly drunk (there was a pub on the corner) and God only knows what could have popped off. But damn, how you just gonna out and call me a bitch? You don't even know me and it was YOUR rude asses that wouldn't move and let a lady pass. Asshats!
Rude happening numero dos:
This happened just this afternoon. I met my BFF at the gym this morning and we killed ourselves. Stairmaster and crazy abs. I was having difficulty walking straight because my legs felt like jell-o. Anyway, on the way home I decided to stop by the store and pick up a few things. As I walked in the door, there was a cart jam. Like 6 people with carts not moving. Well, I ain't have a cart, so I wove my way through the crowd. This middle aged over-tanned and slightly unfortunate in the face (prally cause of tanning) woman said "Some people are just so rude. Rude, rude, rude!" And then her eyes met mine. I gave her the sweetest of smiles but my eyes said "B*tch don't even..." I then went about grabbing the items I was there for every time I appeared in an aisle where she was, she made a quick u-turn and headed somewhere else. I scared her y'all! YAY! Actually, nothing about what I did was rude. It was cold outside and I was trying to get myself into the store so that I didn't become part of the cart jam. I made sure to say excuse me when I was making my way through the crowd. On top of that, I didn't even have a cart, so its not as if I barreled through people to get in front.
Since I did not engage her, I felt free and in fact did giggle about the situation, including snickering loudly about it on the phone to my friend while I was at the check out and she was in the check out lane next to me. She turned that shade of over-tanned purple that I had only seen a couple of times before in my life. I smiled at her again, grabbed my packages and went on my merry way... still laughing at her. I was so proud of myself. I ruined her day.
so what do you notice about these two instances? If you said that both instances involved 2520's then remind me to give you a cupcake. You are correct. Now that's not to say that all 2520's are rude, or that all people of color are polite. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. But, the inherent sense of entitlement that some 2520's are born with and taught to exercise (either consciously or unconsciously) makes them believe that a person of color who asserts themselves, particularly a woman of color, is being rude.
My friends will argue with me that I have an inborn sense of entitlement as well, and if my assertion is to hold, then I'm calling myself rude. But my sense of entitlement is different. It is not fostered and nourished by being a member of a group that has a history of subjugating and dominating people of color all over the globe for centuries. It comes from being the only child of two parents who raised me in a comfortable lifestyle. That just makes me a bit of a diva who believes in sparkly things, getting the best out of life and giving her best to the world. Not a rude person at all. Besides...we already clarified that I'm not rude, I'm snarky.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Who to start with? Hmmmm… tough decision. I think I will start with G.M. The nonsense that went on with this sniglet was ri-gatdang-diculous. And it wasn’t entirely my fault. Okay, yes it was. I violated a cardinal rule. I didn’t listen to my woman’s intuition.
Story time babies… gather round the story mat.
So right after I graduated from college, I moved to St. Louis, MO to teach high school science with Teach for America. I was a new girl in a new city and the only friends I had were my fellow TFAers. And they were mostly female. I was young, cute and gainfully employed. There was no reason for my ass to be sitting at home waiting for life to happen to me.
Anyway, it was a couple of days before one of my friends’ birthdays. I went to the local Sam’s Club to get a cake to share with our track girls (she coached running, I coached field events). As I was walking around the store, I noticed this guy noticing me. But wasn’t typical noticing. It seemed like every aisle I went down, there he was smiling in my face, but not initiating conversation. I thought it was a little creepy, but he was FOINE, so I dismissed that initial knot in my stomach. I mean he was a 6’3” tall drink of caramel deliciousness with broad shoulders and locks that flowed down his back. I mean… DAMN.
Well, its nice to be admired, but if you ain’t talking, I ain’t got time. So I headed to the check out with my full cart. Imagine my surprise when I walked outside and there he was, waiting for me. Once again, ignoring that little knot in my tummy that said “stranger danger”. So he finally chats me up. In this first conversation I should have known this was a bad idea. He revealed the following information via these phrases:
"I’m here shopping with my mother” TRANSLATION “I live with my mother – and I’m over 30”
“I just got back into town from Houston. I’m into various things to pay bills” TRANSLATION “I’m running from my past and I don’t have a real job”
“I’m looking for an adult situation, I’m tired of games” TRANSLATION “I just want to hit, you got some nice knockers”
I gave him my number (stupid, stupid, stupid) and he said he would call later that night. Then this fool had the nerve to NOT HELP ME WITH MY HEAVY CART OF GROCERIES. Once again, ignored the knot in my stomach.
He called and we chatted some more. In this conversation I found out that he had a baby momma, that said baby momma had had a train run on her (whether it was before, during or after him, I am still not certain) and that he hasn’t seen his child since he left Houston six months prior to our meeting. THIS MEANT HE WAS A SUCKY FATHER, AND POSSIBLY WAS CARRYING VARIOUS STI’s. He wanted to come hang out with me (not take me on an actual date--- do you see all these damn red flags?!?). Oh wait, but I had to pick him up because he didn’t have access to a car. (I found out later his license had been suspended for a DUI). I even cooked for this ninja. We hung out a couple of times and I even took him to my homegirl’s Christmas party as my date. Everyone was oohing and ahhing over how delicious he looked and how nice he was.
Interestingly enough, before I left to go get him for the party my mother (who is definitely my angel on Earth) called me and said she just felt the need to pray a prayer of protection over me. She wasn’t sure exactly why. I’m sure The Spirit spoke to her and warned her I was about to get into some potentially dangerous nonsense.
So of course, after the party, he starts laying the mack down on me in my car. By the time we got up to my apt, we were both half dressed.
I could have stopped it there. I SHOULD have stopped it there. But ummmm… his oral game was on point and I hadn’t had any since I graduated. We did the do and he spent the night. Of course, the next morning, I had to drive his ass back home, then come home and pack to fly home for the holidays.
That morning was the last time I heard from or saw this ninja. He straight fell off the grid. All of a sudden, his cell was going straight to voicemail, he wasn’t returning my messages. I even called him to wish him a Merry Christmas, and he ain’t call me back.
I was hurt because I felt used and cheap. But oh… its gets better.
So I come back to work after the holidays. We had a permanent sub in the classroom next to mine because the little hoodlums had finally driven the white teacher that was there insane. I mean, they stole her keys and took her car out the parking lot, and then crashed it. So, permasub tells me how over the Christmas break she met this guy who was tall, fine, caramel with locks, etc. I raise an eyebrow and ask his name. “Oh his name is G. and he lives over on Natural Bridge and Page.” ‘SCUSEMESAYHUHWHATNAH?!! Now, I’m not even close to claiming to be the finest thing on the planet but I am DEFINTELY cuter than this chick. I mean, just… way cuter (God, forgive my ego, but tell the truth and shame the devil).
So yeah, she continues to describe with relish her sexual escapades with this fool while I make a mental note to go see my ob/gyn ASAP (luckily I was clean—mom’s prayers saved me, I’m sure!).
I say, “Oh really? Hmmm… he sounds nice. So does he do that trick with his tongue where he…?” The look on her face was PRICELESS.
For the rest of the year, chick made a point to talk about him around me fronting like they were still seeing each other. I knew that he had probably played her too, and she was just trying to save face. I felt sorry for her.
I saw him again a year later at my favorite used record store. He came over to say hi, and I suppose, apologize. I acted like I could see right through him and couldn’t hear anything. I wonder if his trifling-ness has caught up with him yet…
Lesson: DO NOT IGNORE YOUR WOMAN’S INTUTION… AND DESPERATION IS NOT CUTE… IT WILL LEAD YOU INTO EVIL.
Monday, November 17, 2008
I forget how it came up, but I was at work talking to one of my male co-workers and somehow, stories of past relationships came up. Oh yes, I remember now. We were talking about how young women are essentially dumb about relationships, and that my history is a prime example.
As I recounted my history, he was literally banging his fist on the desk laughing is ass off. I realized that my dating history is freaking hilarious. I have been in every crazy dating situation you could possibly think of. Its completely the makings of a crazy romantic comedy. One day I'm going to have to write this shit down.
From the guy that proposed to me to get my ass to stay in town to the guy who wanted to follow me back east out of said town, to the dude that was trying to marry my ass to get his Green card, to the older man who spoiled me, but was still married to his crazy wife... I've been through it all. One day, I will write my memoirs, and give the world the laughs of a lifetime
Maybe if people ask nice, I will make it a mini-series on this here blog....
Friday, November 14, 2008
Seriously though, I have proof. At least, examples that serve as proof to me.
Case #235 Snarkiness Invades the Morning Commute
You know, I seriously can't be blamed for this one. People are dumb. They leave themselves open or snarky comments, and it just cant be helped. So, this morning a group of women wearing pink scrubs get on the train. I won't even venture to guess why they were all wearing pink scrubs, but seemed barely able to form sentences that sounded remotely educated sounding... but I digress. All I know is they weren't nurses. My mother has been a nurse longer than I care to out her for, and she is an extremely educated and intelligent individual. I refuse to place these people in the same category as her. Nope. won't do it. Call it pride... if it makes you feel better. Anyway, back to the snark. So all of these chicks decide to plant themselves in the seats closest to me, even though the train was nearly empty. One of them sitting behind me remarked 'its a good thing i got an early start this morning. it gave me time to do my make-up in a full mirror instead of my rearview mirror.' ***enter snark*** I lie to you not when I say the next thought that popped into my head was "Yeah, and it did your ass no good. A bigger mirror and full make up cannot fix unfortunate looking." ZING! I didn't even try to do that... it just came out. Forgive me, Lord.
Case #176 Snark Strikes at the Courthouse...
BBMo went to jail last week. Yup, ya girl had tickets, the judge was cool but the fines were a bit high. Long story short, they said if I hung out in lock up for a couple of hours, it would knock some money off my bill. Well... cool. It wasn't like county lock up with the orange jumpsuits and house shoes. I had my Crackberry, my ipod and my hubby brought me a smoked turkey on rye with muenster cheese. Ya girl was chillin. There were other peoples in there, some had issues way deeper than mine like alcoholism that resulted in their 2nd and 3rd DUI's. Then there was Mushmouth. He got this moniker because in the courtroom through the proceedings, when we were being escorted to lock up and the 2 hours i spent in lock up, this loquacious fellow wouldn't shut the hell up. This in and of itself is a problem. Add to this the fact that he sounded like he was taught to speak with the pacifier still in his mouth and that he chews on cotton balls. In lock up, I really just wanted tune the world out. But this mo-mo would not be quiet. ***enter the snark***
The fact that I named an otherwise seemingly nice person Mushmouth is snarky enough. But then I started to wonder what chick would want to spend late nights on the phone having 'sexy talk' with a voice like that? Or let a mouth like that kiss her or her 'good girl'? Like seriously, do you get any play dude? I got mad at his mama for not teaching him to properly form his words. Am I wrong for all of these thoughts? yes. But i already TOLD you, I'm a snarky bitch.
Case# 422 Ain't no body in this club to make love to.
Last night I got roped into going to one of the whackest spots in the Del Val. I hate Taylor's with the same heat as the fire of a thousand suns. Really, that place sucks. My husband calls it 'big booty marginal looking 2520 girl heaven'. His description could not be more accurate if it were a 140 page dissertation. The girls had some reasonable facsimile of the booty that has made women of color famous. They were mainly 2520's, and far too many were marginal looking. What is hilarity to me is that there were way more bitchass looking brothas in there than I would deem reasonable. But then again, the whole situation is unreasonable to me.
So last night was an exercise in snark. I cracked on errybody up in that piece. From the desperate looking 40-something women who were trying to be MILF's and epically failing to to dudes standing around having their own little snausage fests. Oh, I was HIGHLY entertained... for a while. Then I got bored. But some of my classic comments
"She may be skinny, but she still got cottage cheese all up on her thighs. She needs to quit with that damn mini."
"How in the hell is the 2520 girl rockin a JACKED up ponytail weave? Just look like she snuck up on a horse with garden shears!"
"Where are her pants?! Oh, she trying to make us think that's a mini-dress... sorry sweetie but NO."
"Why are all the dudes clustered together like that? Did we go to a high school dance and no one told me?"
"What in the hell is a NYC dress code? We in South Jersey."
"Oh that DJ KNOWS that no one is here to dance to trance music. Take that mess to NYC."
"You can't make a martini?! Its vodka and olive juice! You need to go to remedial bartending school."
"I put on for my fellow BBW's but she needs to STOP with that jumpsuit. Really ma, stop misreppin' the pretty big girls... or in your case, just big girls."
Oh I am going to PAY for my snarkiness... but oh well. I kept myself and my friends entertained. And really... that's all that matters. That and I can provide you tales of my foolishness.
peace and love...
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
I mean really... Just BEAUTIFUL. My lawd, my lawd, my lawd...
The 3-D projection of the house was... okay. The 8 million laptops... I got past it But really... holograms of correspondents/celebrities in the studio? Seriously, when I saw them "hologram" in Will.I.Am I seriously was like... Say HUH? The HELL is that?!? Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing? What the hell CNN?!! I CALL FOOLYWANG!!!! What happened to the simple yet effective split screen? This is an example of Too Much Money, Not Enough Common F*cking Sense. EPIC FAIL!
I present... the aftermath of the most historic election of the las 200 years... the HITS... and the MISSES...
HIT- This e mail posted by a commentor on Very Smart Brothas.... i chortled
Dear Red States:
If you manage to steal this election, too, we’ve decided we’re leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we’re taking the other Blue States with us. In case you aren’t aware, that includes California , Hawaii , Oregon ,Washington , Minnesota , Wisconsin , Michigan , Illinois and all the Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.
To sum up briefly:
You get Texas , Oklahoma and all the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches.
We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood.
We get Intel and Microsoft. You get WorldCom.
We get Harvard. You get Ole’ Miss.
We get 85% of America ’s venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama .
We get two-thirds of the tax revenue; you get to make the red states paytheir fair share.
Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22% lower than the Christian Coalition’s, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms.
Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we’re going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they’re apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don’t care if youdon’t show pictures of their children’s caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq , and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we’re not willing to spend our resources in Bush’s Quagmire.
With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80% of the country’s fresh water, more than 90% of the pineapple and lettuce, 92% ofthe nation’s fresh fruit, 95% of America’s quality wines, 90% of all cheese, 90% of the high tech industry, 95% of the corn and soybeans (thanks Iowa!), most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech andMIT.
With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88% ofall obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92% of allU.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100% of the tornadoes, 90% of the hurricanes, 99%of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100% of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia. We get Hollywood and Yosemite , thank you.
Additionally, 38% of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62% believe life is sacred unless we’re discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws, 44% say that evolution is only a theory, 53% that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61% of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals then we lefties.
MISS: Ralph Nader's HATIN' ASS....
"You see me? Hi Hater!"
I just recently became a citizen so this was my first ever election
Sitting at the bar of the Cheesecake Factory with my husband and my best friend weeping tears of pure joy as I saw the count go to 292… then 338….
Telling my husband that its time we had babies–yes we can…
Crying and smiling and laughing and clapping as I saw the most gorgeous First Family walk onto that stage…
Gettin jiggy with it in the car to the sounds of celebration on the Streets of Philadelphia…
Talking to my 70 year old auntie long distance from Ghana while hearing THEM celebrate a half a world away…
Still being giddy as a betsybug, unable to get to sleep…
So excited to get to work tomorrow morning and sip some Dom with my work family….
My SOUL is overjoyed and my cup runneth over…
Project for my followers... all two of you.
I need a hater-ific soundtrack for my ipod.... i live near a thicket of McCain/Palin-ites who have been less than gracious lately... I need them to recognize.
WE DID IT! WE CAN DO IT! LET'S GET TO WORK!!!!
OBAMA/ BIDEN '08
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
I am so excited, I feel like if someone touches me the wrong way, me head might explode. I also feel like if someone comes at me the wrong way, they just might get "Motherland Slapped"...
I am giddy because of the possibility that lies before us.
Children who have no hope and had nothing but excuses for not being their best... that is being eroded as we speak. No more will I hear from kids that I volunteer mentor say "I'm black. I'm poor. I didn't have it like that. We didn't have no head start. I don't know my daddy. I moved around alot. I cant be anything because no one who is me has ever been President or anything like that..."
They can't say that anymore. They don't want to say it anymore. Today, driving into work I saw children on the corner of 40th and Market screaming "Obama! Obama! YES WE CAN!!!" at the top of their lungs. Like seriously, going APESHIT with delight. I cried.
The hope is back. Its bright. And its amazing....
Friday, October 31, 2008
This election is about us vs. them
A vote for Obama, the wannabe messiah is a vote for the destruction of the America and its Constitution that mt family fought and died for and yours and a huge transfer of wealth from us to them
**Readers, please note that the lack of syntax, subject -verb agreement, proper punctuation and general coherence is not my mistake... this is what the 'bright crayon in the box' reader of the Metro actually wrote. I commend the Metro on not editing this letter... I love to mock other people's obvious stupidity. **
For those of you not wishing to have to decipher the above letter, allow me to do it for you.
*ahem.. mi mi mi mi mi...inhales*
Voting for Obama means that you hate America and that you are a commie bastard.
McCarthyist Elitist F*cktard
Do I really want to spend the time ripping this dipshit a new one? Well, if it weren't for the fact that today was the Phillies Parade, its Halloween, its Friday and I've been partying at work all day... I would. But I just don't care enough.
All I will say is that people like this need to gather themselves on a small island in the middle of the ocean and eat each other for sustenance. Cause you know, they're to be all about survival of the fittest. You know... progressive taxes and social welfare programs are just against all that is holy-- but we the strong will eat the weak.
Cause that's the way the Bible says its supposed to be. I want to keep my family's ill gotten slave trade/war profiteering/stock market gouging wealth for my children. Who will never know hard work, because I accumulated wealth for them. Put the poor's children need to work. Hand outs only breed lazines... in everyone except my kids.
Yeah, up, she needs to drink a big cup of Sit the FUCK DOWN and SHUT THE FUCK UP. Stat.
That's all I have for now, folks.
Happy All Hallow's Eve and GO PHILLIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Media ignoring other candidates
“The press has refused the proper view of candidates who are offering to America and get the power-hungry two major parties out. I am voting for Ralph Nader**, and 100 million non-partisan voters may also vote Nader. You, the media, owe the truth. There are six on the ballot.”
E.O. Ellis, Massachusetts
** I swear it took everything in me not to VOMIT while typing those words.
Now, I don’t have anything against Ralph Nader… except for the fact that he might be able to be accused of being a purposeful spoiler in the 2000 Presidential (S)Election of Bush over Gore. Outside of that, I actually like a lot of his policy ideas. He could probably make an excellent Commander-In-Chief… if he had a snowball’s chance in Hell of getting elected. Which he doesn’t. And this is why people who are going to vote for Nader enrage the hell out of me. Here are the reasons I think people who are going to Vote for Nader, are pretentious sacks of shit. I will start with the above letter as a reference point and spit venom from there
1. Nader didn’t run a national campaign. He never had rallies, press conferences, went to ball games, kissed babies, shook hands, none of it. At least, not on a national scale. Not even a regional scale. That renders this statement: “The press has refused the proper view of candidates who are offering to restore America and get the power-hungry two major parties out.” as complete BUPKISS. If he was truly running for President of the United States, he would have done things on the NATIONAL scale. He would have demanded to be invited to the debates. He would have launched a grassroots (as opposed to a viral) campaign. Hell, even crazy chicken man Ross Perot did that at least. Consequently, he got national coverage. Therefore, this sentence earns E.O. from Ellis, MA a SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND SHUT THE FUCK UP Award.
2. “I am voting for Ralph Nader” Why? Like I said, while Nader is great and has great ideas for change, HE HASN’T GOT A SNOWBALLS CHANCE IN HELL OF WINNING THE GENERAL ELECTION. Even if every registered independent voted for him instead of one of the major party candidates, it still wouldn’t amount to a significant enough number to swing the election his way. So what exactly is your purpose for Voting Nader? Is it a protest vote? Is it a vote on principle? Are you just a pompous dipshit who clings hopelessly to their “high minded individuality”? Give me a fucking break. Your protest vote isn’t going to do anything except take a vote away from candidates who actually have a chance of winning this election and changing the national political scene (trying to be non-partisan here but… OBAMA/ BIDEN ’08!). For all that non-sense, you might as well just stay your silly ass at home and stop clogging up the line for people who really want to vote for change. (Coincidentally, a lot of Nader’s ideas are strikingly similar to the candidate whose name rhymes with yo mama)
3. “…and 100 million non-partisan voters may also vote Nader.” Hmmmm, mighty full of ourselves, aren’t we? Well, actually, I’m just going to go with FUCKING DELUSIONAL… Next!
4. “You, the media, owe the truth. There are six on the ballot.” I don’t know which of these sentences is more preposterous. The statement that the media owes the truth(HA!) or that there are four other presidential candidates that people have actually heard of and care about and have chance of WINNING on the ballot. The media owes truth in theory. However, since they are owned by people who have their own politically skewed views, believing that the media will tell you the complete truth is as naïve as believing that life is fair, or that Santa Claus exists, or that I wouldn’t want to put my foot up the narrow behind of the person who wrote this letter. It also signals to me that people like this are smoke-screening their passive complacency by appearing to be an activist/truth-seeker. If they were really concerned about truth in the media and/or getting the word out there about these candidates, then they would do something more proactive like submitting and op-ed, starting online periodicals or getting out there and speaking their truth. THESE people like make my ass twitch.
If you are one of these mo-mos who plans to vote for Nader, do us ALL a favor and just stay home on Nov. 4th. Please understand that the shenanigans that Nader Voters facilitated in 2000 have not been forgotten. Moreover, if similar tomfoolery happens THIS TIME, the backlash could be nothing short of the country imploding. Also, you might get ONED waiting in line to vote if you don't. Cause you know y'all are just so fucking proud to be voting for Nader, that you will reek of pretention and self-righteousness. And we all know how much people like that are loved.
Okay, I’m done now.
What say you about Vote for Nader-ites?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
I made up a lame ass excuse and instead of going to that party I didn't want to go to, I took my ass to the gym. I'm a bad friend. But I feel good about getting my work out on. Comme ci, comme ca. Oh well.
Just wanted to update.... carry on....
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
I am, however, ambiguous about attending this event. I guess, what it comes down to is this...this venue is going to be crawling with young, educated, professional uppity ass Black people.... and
Uppity BUPPIES make my ass tired. You may be asking what in the hell that is... you might be nodding your head in agreement... or you might be getting a little pissed at me for calling you out (in which case, just KILL yourself now, because no one will care, you Uppity Ass Muthaf**ker.)
Uppity BUPPIES (Black Urban Professionals) are comprised of two groups. Diva dudes (c) VerySmartBrothas and the broads who are vying for their attention (read: throwing their panties at these bitchass dudes).
I am always apprehensive about hanging out with BUPPIES because, while I technically fall into the group, I generally don't like being around these people. They constantly profile, don't mingle outside their group (unless its to approach the most baggable looking member of the opposite sex, purely for the benefit of your peer group) and are generally unfriendly. Moreover, they reek of ego, pretention and hateration. Yeah, why willingly subject yourself to these people?
Now, not all BUPPIES fall into the Uppity category. Hell, I'm not uppity and neither are my friends. We go out with the intention of having a good time, profiling be damned. But its hard to really cut loose when you feel like everyone else is just... not feeling the vibe. Sucking their teeth, rolling their eyes, holding their drinks just so.... GAWD, get OVER YOURSELVES ALREADY. You ain't that fly. Sorry, but you're not. Now get your ass out here and shake a tail feather like you got some sense! Smile and look like you are a nice person trying to have a good time. Humor me!
*sigh* sometimes i hate being a good friend. i really want to bail. REALLY. I still might... maybe I can contract a little head cold by tomorrow night, or something. If I go, I'm going to need a really strong drink mellow me out.Otherwise i'll just come home mad. And since its my hubbie's birthday, I really would rather not come home with an attitude.
*Happy Birthday to the man that has the perfect beats for my lyrics, is the sun to my moon, and spins me like his favorite record. I love you, Baby*
Thursday, October 02, 2008
The title of this entry is what Albert lane dressed in drag as Mrs. Coleman said about the topic of killing abortion doctors. He suggested killing the mothers to stop them from trying to get abortions instead. He and his partner were trying to impress their son's future in-laws, conservative Sentator Kevin Keely and his wife.
S(he) was going to extremes and not really knowing what she was talking about with abortion, because she was drenched in her role as a 'woman' who was essentially sauced on too much wine at dinner.
Well, I'm not sure if she was sauced tonight, but I would have been if I took a shot of the Crown** if every time Sarah Palin said or did one of the following
-'Well, ya know...'
-Mentioned her 'diverse' family and friends to justify her answers
-changed the topic to something she felt prepared to answer, rather than answering the ACTUAL ISSUE presented by the MODERATOR
-shifted the issue back to something after it was clear the moderator had moved on
-said "I agree with you Joe/Senator Biden"
-got a bit snarkier than necessary
-made a low blow "I have ALWAYS been proud to be an American."
So I want people to riddle me this.... who won tonight?
*psssst.... come here. no, closer. i have a secret. the answer rhymes with snow fiden'*
P.S. I KNOW that Biden was holding back to be fair to her. He could have ripped her a new one. I really wish he would have. REALLY.
**I was supposed to be at a watching party getting sloshed while following the Watching Rules. Crown Royal is my liquor of choice in these matters. Matters meaning when I just want to get good and liquored up.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
So I was on Very Smart Brothas today and the topic was centered around being sprung. For those of you who don't know, I will give you a definition (*not dictionary.com or anything... this is PURE gospel from the mouth of the Sweet One herself
Sprung adj.- when you have had some *aherm* SOOOOO INCREDIBLY GOOD you go to the brink of damn near insanity doing any and everything to get more. It has you so far off kelter that you overlook your normal "relationship dealbreakers" just so you can have access to that good shit. It also has one or both of you spending exorbitant amounts of resources (be it money, time, or your best friend's credibility**) for another hit. Even after you come to your senses and end it (if necessary) you still reminisce and the memories threaten to destroy (or at the very least make you question a TEENSY bit) what you have with your current sexual relations partner (in my case, my husband-- even though he is QUITE talented).
** this is expounded upon in the the following memory... I don't think she's forgiven me for making her LIE to MY MOTHER**
I didn't want to do it, but I will share my SPRUNG story. Let me preface this (though I usually hate qualifying shit) by saying that this person isn't the only one to have me some kind of sprung. Shit, if my hubby didn't have me sprung, ya think I woulda married him? HELLS NO. But THIS fellow..... GATDAMN! My man better work it tonight because... sheeeeit.... *strained breathing*
Gather 'round the story mat... Its time for the Tale of Trans-Atlantic Booty.
Alright, so for my friends who DON'T know that THIS happened, y'all can't forget that I was and still am Queen of the Creep.
It was junior year of college when I met Spiros (his name ALONE... DAMN). To let you know exactly where my interest lay in regards to this man, I vaguely remember that he was a grad student, though I can't tell you which program he was in. The fabulousness of what happened just made me forget that. Its not important anyway.
Spiros was in the U.S. on a student visa from Greece studying... whatever. I met him and his roomate Ryan through one of my BFFs (not the one I made lie to my mom... I'll get to that in a minute). Spiros was sweet, chivalrous and F**KING GORGEOUS. You know the whole Greek Adonis thing... but he totally didn't know he was hot...and that made him hotter. What made him SMOKIN was that he liked li'l ol' me.
We would hang out in the student union, playing pool after dinner when we should have been studying. He was amazingly good at pool and taught me everything I know. People wonder why I kick ass at 8 Ball... he is the reason.
So of course, teaching one how to properly hold the cue stick, line up shots, do trick shots etc. allows for plenty of bodily contact. I cannot tell you how badly I just wanted to throw his ass on the pool table and "do things" right there. But alas, I was not nearly as adventurous then as I am now.
Okay... now to the good stuff. The first time it happened was completely by accident. It was finals week and I had my Anthropology (fufilling a requirement of some sort) final. Said final was my first one before my hard as balls ones for my major classes, so I spent all my time prepping for those and forgot about this one. Lucky for me, Ryan was a TA in that department and had seen the exam. He wasn't going to let me cheat, but he was going to give me 'pointers' on what I should re read.
Ryan offered to let me come over to his and Spiros' apt to help me study. So I went... not looking that cute because, well, it was FINALS. I get to the apt and Ryan isn't there. Apparently, he had to run to the store. That left me and Spiros by our lonesome. We started talking about finals and how much we both had to study blah blah and he offered me a back rub. Shit, he was in like flynn after that. It was a quickie, but DAMN it was a goodie. He had me seeing abstract colors and shapes, speaking words I didn't know I could, alla dat. I decided right then and there that I needed more of this NOW.
For the rest of spring semester, he and I would hook up on the low. Now you should know that hooking up at a PWI when you are Queen of the Creep involves not only being stealthy, but convincing your partner that while the thought is sweet, DON'T send me little notes through campus mail (all my peoples worked at the service center) or act like you like or even know me. Our 'pool lessons' had to stop. I think Ryan found out and was pissed about it, because I think he liked me too.
Well tragedy occurred. Spiros finished his program, graduated and was going back to Greece that summer. I would have to go through my senior year without THAT. Our "last" night together I literally CRIED the entire time. Besides the fact that he brought on the ALL STAR performance, I was going to miss him... and what he could do!
When he saw how upset I was, he held me and then he had a brainstorm. Why don't I come visit him for the summer? I thought this was a GREAT idea! I wanted to do it. PROBLEM... I was supposed to be going to Spain for the summer with my best friend. He was like, go to Spain and then come to Greece. Its a cheap flight and short! So that is EXACTLY what the Sweet One did. I went to Spain with my girl and then told her I was going to make a quick puddle jump to Greece. She knew about my debauchery and was all for it. **enter jeopardzing credibility** Well, during my first 2 day jaunt, my mother called my friend, er, me. She had wanted to talk to me, because she got a credit alert that my card had been used to purchase another plane ticket. My friend LIED TO MY MOTHER for me and told her we were planning to jump to Greece for a short trip.
MOM: "Where is she?"
BFF: "Oh she's still down on the Plaza Mayor. I'll have her call you back."
BFF to ME (in the middle of 'it' with Spiros): "Girl, call your mother NOW. She's got questions about your dumb ass charging that ticket you used to get your Grecian swirl on!"
ME: "Shit! Well, he asked me to come back again. I'll call her... back up whatever story I come up with."
BFF: "You know, God hates you right now... the D betta be worth it." *click*
And that was the beginning....
After I graduated from college (without Spiros, senior year was-- meh), there was a brief 3 week period before I started my tenure with Teach for America. I spent those weeks GETTIN IT IN, in Greece... on his bill. Turned out he got a bomb job, but decided to continue to live at his grandparents house and save money. We came up with an arrangement and for about a year and a half, every other month I would take a long weekend (once a month if there was an ACTUAL school holiday in between my 'scheduled trips') and fly over the big blue to get the pipe properly laid. The alternate months, he would come to the U.S. and I wouldn't leave my apt for 2 days.
Well, this bliss had to end. We were burning up cash and although the booty was good (DAMN GOOD), that was all we really did with each other. We kinda had a really anti-climactic end. We had been talking about trying to make our 'thing' into a real relationship. We even tried for a spell. It wasn't gonna happen. LDR's are hard. Really hard. Throw an ocean and several time zones into the mix. The only times we talked on the phone were to schedule and coordinate trips and then to reminisce about what we had just done. He was really smart, really sweet and was going to make someone a great boyfriend... but it wasn't going to be me. Not for a lack of trying though. I kinda thought I was in love with him. Maybe I was.... or maybe it was just the D.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
With more snarky opinions…
With more insight…
With more love and compassion…
With more (and new) GOOD friends…
With more bounce to the ounce…
With more of that stiletto swagger…
Hells yeah, I’m back baby! It’s the Rebel Intellectual comin’atcha LIVE and IN COLOR!
Here I am, you lucky people you…
read me… LOVE ME
p.s. some of my other 'in the meantime' writings will be posted up here as time allows, along with new sh*t.