HELP ME!!!

It's probably bad to start the work day with the goal of answering the question: what dis *#&€%^ want me to prove to her today? But that's where I am...

The Booty Paradox

It's been a slow journey back (and I probably wont clearly state where/what I'm coming back to).  The set-up: just prior to my 30th birthday, I made a declaration of sorts.  I am of the thinking that when you resolve to do something and are firm in your stance that you will, in fact, achieve it.  It's just that there are times when I dont fully tap into this innate goddess power of mine/ours.  So, I decided that since I couldn't (can't) seem to get said individual (dark brown and tempting) out of my mind, maybe he remains for a reason.  AND I decided that the reason was that he was the perfect one for me.  My hope was to (1)initiate contact, (2)arrange a reacquaintance meet 'n greet (3)thoroughly impress him with my femininity and upgraded sense of moi, and (4)get this long-awaited, clearly destined wedding in the bag.  I put it out into the universe and was mentally "working it".  And if all else fails, I thought, at least I will have stated my feelings and be that much closer to moving on.

It started out some what nicely.  The initial conversation was your typical "catching up" kind of conversation.  So good to hear from you...I've been thinking about you...How's the fam...We HAVE to get together...blah blah blah.  Yea, but that was it.  Pretty much after that I was just hanging on like a lunatic.  So, eventually he had to just shut my ars down.  He did it so good that all I could do was gather my bottom lip back up to its proper place and push out a breathy, "ohhh-kay!"  I have since called him a few choice  names; partly for leaving me dumb-founded; partly for not "luvvving" me back; and partly for shutting me down before I got my big chance to confess my love and at least have it off my chest!

Thirty years old, single and no prospects in sight.  My personal version of therapy was, in addition to the name calling, to try to get my self together.  Physically.  If I work these glutes and a few extra milkshakes per week just right I can be "ice cold".  I committed myself to thorough butt work and implemented the plan for one-maybe two days.  Then...I fell down the @#$%^%^$ stairs.  My butt aint been right since. 

In summary: Is the universe trying to tell me that it aint'cha booty, it's your inner beauty?  And further, that boy dont like you so get over it!  Point taken.  Onward.

New Post September 2011

Here I am again, apologizing to the blogosphere for my lack of contributary mush.  Not that I have a readership . . . yet.  But, IF YOU BUILD IT THEY WILL COME.

Besides, I can ALWAYS use the benefit of catharsis.

Holla

Can ya woo-woo-woo?

So, I'm in a state of internal turmoil that no one knows, of course, cause that's me -- just hold it all in until it turns into a pimple or a headache or a screamfest.  Then, all of a sudden comes along a loved one who is also having some degree of turmoil BUT everyone knows.  Well, we might recognize it as internal turmoil, but we know that she aint being her nicest and we're kinda scared and jittery and careful - even when she's not around because if we get too quiet she'll think we're talking about her and come yell at us - and if we make too much noise she'll wonder where we got the nerve to be happy when she is other than happy. 

My thing is, I can't be the antidote to your outward, overt, nauseating, head-cracking neediness cause I'm mentally, internally, possibly foolishly -but in my mind the best idea- trying to deal with mine.  My emotional cup runneth over and although I can woo-woo-woo two people at the same time (quite well, actually but usually to my own detriment), I can't woo-woo-woo myself and another emotionally needy individual at the same time.  It just turns out bad.  Like, real bad.  Like, silent revolution that just pissed everybody off bad.  It'll be alright in the morning.  Or later.  I suppose.

Now I'm home ALONE and it ROCKS!  That's a new one for me (appreciating time alone).  I gotta do this more.

I really hate hurting feelings.  I also really hate outside pressure on top of my inside pressure.  How'd I get to be me?

Back at the Bat

I really thought that I had hit a home run this time. I love him. He loves me. We're gonna make it. Yea. NO! It is so over. I can't believe it. I wanna beat him down. Moving on. The point is that I am back to single life yet again. And yet again, I did not intend to be here. Man plans, God plans and God is the best of planners. I gotta deal with it. Now what?

What is a single mom pushing thirty supposed to do for a frosted over New Year? I guess I'll stay home. We'll see.

"Oh God, not you?!"

These are words uttered to me from behind begging eyes when I had a dear friend join in my cherade to hide my liquor from another dear friend. But that is beside the point. Right now, I'm talking about love. Not just any love, but that complicated, "I hate you Jody but when I say I hate you I really mean I love you" kinda love. Why? Because now I too am becoming one of those people who forget the gloriousness of love and opts for rolling dolo because I DONT WANNA HURT. Have I lost my mind? Dont answer. I love love. I am love. I'm a LOVEchild. Why should I back down? Why should I live in fear?



Here's where I like to insert my favorite version of a tangent: The Recap - Here goes. . .
The first time I got all into a guy was a mess. I was so taken by his intellect and (I'll just say) "stuff" that I assumed the role of lucky loser waiting for approval/dismissal. Whatever! I aint trying to be like that no more. So then I got a little 'tude about me. Then I met the BD. I wasnt choosy at all. My dearly departed aunt asked me what I liked about him and I had no real answer. "He's spiritual. A lot like my mom." In retrospect, duh! Then there was the madness. This was the time after the BD before the squinting. The time where I just drove on the highway in a used Range Rover with my eyes closed. I dont care about you. You dont care about me. Just get in the d*mn car and let's roll. That was unfulfilling. Then I met The Healer. Oh, boy. Two people-completely lost-ignoring their full scope. Oh, the dreams. Oh, the bullcrap. Oh! That didn't work out. But now I have tasted the sweet taste of actually liking someone. . .not just kicking it to get out of the house, but actually enjoying a conversation -no touch OR liquor involved. So, what now? PRAY! "God, please help me to turn off my insufficent thinking and wait for you to nudge me." Then I got nudged. I know it was a nudge. I know it. And now here I am hiding from hurt. Yep! Me.

when a goddess needs a gig . . .

I remember when I used to be in the top. In grade school I was in the top three. In high school I was maybe in the top 30. In college (in my major, at least) I was number 1 . . . then 2. Then I graduated and realized that without the classroom setting and report cards, I wasn't too sure of my "thing". I had become an office intern, sitting in a cubicle, completing oftimes menial tasks. At this point there was no intranet, let alone internet, so I couldn't even google all day. . .I can now. So, for the next two years I tried to figure what degree I wanted to get next. I strongly considered one and settled on it when the second pink line appeared. Now or never! So, I completed the degree and my job gave me the "flexibilty" to complete papers, pump breast milk, go to doctor's appointments and sneak in naps as necessary. I'm living like an executive without the title or the money. Then that guy left us. For a little while we functioned okay with one income but trying to be a newly single diva is expensive. Babies are expensive. Self-medicating is expensive. So now I'm broke and a better job is imperative.

It is quite possible that I have learned how to be a thumb-twiddling googler instead of a go-getter. So, how do I unlearn? There are a wealth of opportunities out there, especially for an optimist like myself. I truly believe there are. But what's stopping me from grasping firmly? Me.

So, you change your attitude. You dig yourself out of the funk. Dust yourself off. Apply for every good looking opportunity, which happen to be coming at least once a week. Yet, nobody calls. Except the non-paying resume filler. Don't get me wrong, I thank God for opportunities to work and learn in the grass roots community environment, BUT I NEED SOME MONEY!

There is no resolution to speak of just yet. I'm still digging and searching. I'm sure I will have exciting details along the way.

As Good As the First Time

I have just completed my very first visit to NYC. Yea, yea, yea. . .28 years old, 7 hours away and fully employed, yet this was my first time. Whatever. It was great! I walked all over Manhattan and Harlem, ate plenty of pizza and rode the subway. Got some knock-off this, bootleg that and reunited with the homies from AggieLand. To top things off, as normal as NYC was (in comparison to my expectations) I did get a little touch of oddity on the subway. Of course, it was no worse than things I've seen right here in the CLE.

Pictures to follow.

Holla!

Etta & B

Remember that silly little drama about Etta James threatening to whoop Beyonce's ars? Well, that was just ridiculous. I mean, how many of our aunties, mamas, big cousins have threatened the same and followed through. I didn't think it was a big deal, but it was giggle-worthy. Anywhoo. . .as ridiculous as it was, I'm about to drag it out.
Me and my mom were house cleaning (her house, not mine) last weekend and listening to youtube videos in between vacuum blasts when my mom said (and I concur) that if Etta James wanted to be mad at Beyonce for something, it shoulda been this right here. Now, I love me some Etta. Me and moms have been playing the "At Last" album on repeat since 2000 (thats when I got introduced and she got re-introduced). But "Baby, baby" I'd rather hear Beyonce's version of this one right here. . .
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IRrBihMJbZo

Primates do it for meat

Here's an interesting story.

http://www.livescience.com/animals/090407-chimp-sex.html

I am currently reading Steve Harvey's Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man and I am very pleased and reassured with the fact that he states the necessity for women to allow men to be men, which includes being real providers. Now, I get the impression that he is referring to your live-in and not every fun loving guy you take for a swing around the dance floor, but still I appreciate his position. Here's why; In my one and only real, live live-in situation, of whose setbacks I am currently paying, crying, praying and clawing my way out of, I realized, sometime after the appearance of the first grey hair and the occurence of the cheating, that I am not meant to be with a man who is not a provider. I almost pause to say that, then I remember how crummy it felt to be in a situation other than what I feel is right. Maybe there are people/women out there who are being honest when they say they dont need a helpmeet, they got 'dis, they're independent/sassy/classy, do what they wanna do types. Sure. But clearly (from experience) that is NOT me.

I like having a full schedule that includes home, family, career and civic responsibilities. I think I would live a jubilant life as a stay at home, dont get me wrong (or it twisted), but I would have to make important and meaningful contributions to the family and to my community. This is exactly where I think the confusion comes in. It seems that everyone wants to get everything they want from the opposite sex and if anything is required or asked of them in return, then forget it! I dont need nobody. F*** these n-words! F*** these h***.

I understand where it comes from. I get it. Alot of times the requirements and requests are a bit much or at least too damned self-centered. So many of us have already witnessed and/or experienced "foul" people of the opposite sex that we dont have much hope for meeting a good one. How many men are already accustomed to the idea that a stay at home woman is one who is a lazy, pot-bellied, baby-making machine who wont so much as acknowledge a man's hard work after a long day? How many believe that living with a woman period is equivalent to a life of sorrow? That's real sad. We have very little faith in one another. I have that problem, too. There are certain guys (female friends, too) who I have to distance myself from because they are so disillusioned with people that they leave no room for mistakes. You raise your voice (which people tend to do. . .apologize, no big deal)and they close their hearts to you. You show an interest in something physical and he seems to flip his "I hate you" switch on. You can see them moving to an accusatory line of questioning based off their past experiences and their bags. Plus, we have our own instances of succumbing to our love/hate below and we dont want to give that up so we all just run around pinching off as much as we can get and ignoring the afterburn until we can't even feel it anymore.

All that to say, maybe me would do well to take a lesson from these primates. We all have different needs. We all need each other to fulfill these needs (DANGIT! WE DO!) Let's all indulge in mutually beneficial relationships. If you sprinkle just a little bit of love on top of mine, I'm game!

mother who? mother what?

::Newsflash. . .after the much anticipated phone call on his birthday, my son finally got to spend some quality time with his father this past week. I still sucked. Couldn't find words beyond "hi" and "bye". Imma keep prayin' fuh me. Umm hmmm. . .moving on.::

This whole freakin' blog is supposed to be about me on my journey to my inner goddess and bringing her out and all that so I'd like to take this time to dwell on a goddess in my midst.
My mom: so. . .she's like a different kind of goddess and since she's my mom sometimes she is all I can see and sometimes I don't see her at all. . .and usually when I think I see her, I'm missing her totally. Ahh, the beauty of the mother/daughter relationship. Anywho, this weekend we had a prayer/memorial service for my great-aunt. My grandma's youngest sister and the last aunt my mom had left. Please note the significance. My great-aunt's passing marked the complete transition of that generation of women in our family. Got it? Okay, so my mom calls on the fam to have a get together this weekend officiated by a true to life faith leader, all the fam at her house and complete with really good food. Now, this is one of the times where I truly saw my mom's goddess. She always has get-togethers to celebrate stuff, but this one was special. I know she was deeply hurt by losing her youngest aunt who was only 7 years her senior and whom she had kicked it with back in the day. There are family issues at play that I wont discuss, but the death was a painful shock to us. But, the most important thing for my mom this weekend was showering my great uncle (who had just lost his baby sister) with all the family support and togetherness he could withhold. In the process, my brother-in-law who was very recently appointed an elder in his faith (different from ours) was able to share his gift with us by leading the ceremony, family was brought together, stories were shared and my word is my bond to Almighty God, (hear me) all the women whose blood runs through my mothers veins were with her in that kitchen because she ALWAYS cooks and she ALWAYS cooks well, but those dishes have never tasted so good. Sidebar: she used no meat in any of the dishes, by the way.
Later, Great Uncle called my mom just to say how grateful he was for her kind gesture. Ashe.
Even later than that, there was just me, my mom and my sister. Being the baby and the most spoiled and taken care of, I had to make a beverage run. Bombay. I usually feel weird drinking with folk not in my peer group because most people have the perception that I am a "goody-goody two shoes" and when they see me kick back, relax and commit sin they feel compelled to remind me that I am blowing their perception of me. Shmuck off! Anyway, us ladies sat around telling stories and laughing and singing and being with each other and nothing compares. I've been just a tad sisterly-lovelorn, no disrespect to my girls but things have been different since I stopped hanging with my main roll-out road dawg. It's all good. Just writing it down so I can remember; these are the events that take me further on my journey. Enough of the mush. I think I'm feeling some Oshun these past couple weeks.

ashiningstarforyoutosee

I had the opportunity to attend a "discussion", I'll call it, with a popular Black female "social commentator". One of the things that became immediately apparent was that she is damned straight-forward. Why would I write a blog about someone being straight-forward? Because, it comes off to me as "just not nice". I mean, do you. If you dont like photography while your talking, say it, which she did. If you kickin the truth that could heal some hearts and minds and break some more or less self imposed shackles (or atleast, they are self-imposed at this late date) that have us bound, kick it, which she did. But I have a problem when I miss that consideration for X. If my life is different from yours, there are several reasons, not just because you're extraordinary and I'm regular. Errr ummm, not to hang on to every little word, but that's how other women were described by this "social commentator"; "they're not like me, they're regular". Whoa. Now, this struck me because this "commentator" is excellent with words and she was cool with that statement. This brings me to the bridge, bust it: If you look a mess and don't get that much play from men (or you get so immersed in other things such as academia, work, family, etc. that you let yourself go physically) then can you compare yourself to a woman who is very involved in her personal appearance or a woman who is just naturally more appealing and gets mad play in terms of who's more extraordinary for their dealings with men? Case in point: I maintained my "flower" all the way through high school and college. I got so much celebration from adults telling me how self-regulated and intelligent and blah blah blah I was. The praise was pretty hollow to me because I felt/knew/believed that I was only undeflowered because I was a tall, skinny awkward nerd in my own eyes and none of the boys I would've ventured to hand my flower to were showing me interest. Now, take me as I am today, a jilted-ex, baby-mama, slightly jaded, still hopeless romantic, tall and thin, but shapely, Scorpi-Oh no (oh, yes) and I guess you might say that I, too, am regular. Eventhough I am mistaken for snooty, I get a little eenchy bit of play and I like it and I'm sure it has an effect. I like being/working toward being grounded and with the folk so, eh. I still like who I am today. I'm glad I take more care in my appearance and stylishly accentuate myself. I don't think I am regular, just like I think everyone has their special spot. My experience help define me and I'm kewl with that. And I'm still a work in progress just like all yall regular folk.

now the joy. . .

Today is my son's 3rd birthday. Last night we were cleaning up his room and I found one of those cozy pajamas with the feet in (that's what I call them) and I said, "Try it on, try it on! Let's just see if it fits!" Clearly I was excited, not to mention the anticipation for what he dubbed "the best party. . .ever". So, he tried it on. It just fit. I mean, it kinda dipped at the neck, rode up and was snug around his heels. He tried to take it off (and he tried telling me that he didnt "want these socks on my feet", but being the beautiful struggler that I am and not wanting to turn on the heat I was like, "no keep it on so you can be warm (and cute)". He kept it on. Whew!
Today, I woke up extra early for a frozen over Saturday and got a jump on getting the party started. I inflated the Jump-o-leen, put extra rugs all over to sop up boot dribble, set up some of the presents, and did some last minute tidying. . .cause last minute is how I do it. But before all that I said a prayer (more on that later). When my baby boy woke up, and after I did the whole excited mommy all in love with her son on his birthday thing, we took our baths and when it was time to get dressed, he wanted to put the "pajamas with the feet" back on. Whoa! The "socks" he didnt want on his feet 10 hours prior are now the only thing he wants to wear. Maybe it had something to do with the chill in the air, but I felt a jolt or something telling me that my son loves me and because he knew that I liked something, he liked it, too. That was the first time my eyes welled up.
The second tear-jerker was after an extra special phone call. From whom?? My-son's-father!! Let me catch the reader up. We havent heard from this guy since Mothers' Day and we havent seen him since. . .I can't remember. I have been sending up prayers for him to come around and trying to get his family to send him our way. I've also been praying that whenever he did finally call, that I would be a peaceful and loving individual instead of the dry, unenthused, jilted ex-fiance I had been. I know that he can't be totally at peace not caring for his son and I know that maybe me and all that comes with me may be a tad intimidating for him so I figured the "open arms/i love you cause we made a beautiful baby" approach might be the best way to go, especially to ensure an eventual return to my son's life. So, he called. I was a little less dry, but not quite out of the desert. He talked to his son, thank you God. And. . .he gave me a phone number so maybe we can do some weekly check-ins and updates. Could it be? My son has an active father? God is good. But, back to the tears. I dont know. I just cried after we hung up the phone. It was a mostly unhappy cry, but I think some relief was up in there, too. Luckily, my friend came over just about then and brought me back up out of that haze not daze. Then, I got to make a couple runs. . .in solitude. And think. Looking for birthday party stuff is a good picker-upper. I welled up one more time, maybe two. I think that genuine, mother's prayer did it. Aint nothing like a mother's prayer, please believe it. It prepared me for the day, the phone call and the gratitude I wanted to show our guests and I believe my son had a good ol' day.
Following the party, I went to a meeting. A friend from grad school invited me through a very vague, confusing invite. But, I know she is kewl so I went. I'm so glad. It was great. She is starting an organization and needs joiners. I'm down for the cause of sisterhood and upliftment (is that a word?)
So, on this the 3rd anniversary of the day God blessed me to have a beautiful, drug-free birthing experience and a beautiful baby boy, I can truly say I had a beautiful, wonderful day. Yea, yea, yea. . .my son did, too.

The Man Behind the Curtain

Ah, life as an adult. It kinda sucks when you realize that so many of the concepts and beliefs and people and stuff that you valued as doctrine are flimsy, paper-thin and see through. With some of them I try to ignore the let down. No big deal. I kinda wondered about you anyway. But there are a select few in whom settling for mediocrity is a big disappointment TO ME.

(Note: This has been on the bench for months and I can't remember how I intended to finish it. However, the concept is very real to me so I'm - a - gonna publish. Maybe a cool link/pic/video will close me out right nice.) Off you go.

Are words our friends?

I find myself having some serious digestive issues lately. After thinking it over and trying every natural remedy with which I am familiar, it dawned on me; maybe it is stress. I am very familiar with suffering physically in response to stress. I usually think that I'm dealing with stress just fine. In intense situations you can find me breathing and silently chanting my little optimistic affirmations about this too passing and my ability to pull through. But more often than not I'll come down with a headache later or my neck and shoulder area will ache really really really bad. Here lately, I am experiencing a bird of a totally different feather. After a long evening of dramatic conversation, my stomach seems to stop! Yep, it just stops. At first, I thought it was due to my overeating. . .okay, maybe that's part of it, but I truly believe that its a response to stress. Further, I think that I have a genuine aversion to too much talking. Thoughtful conversation is energy or at least it requires energy. Once I feel that the conversation has reached the edge of its usefulness or that too much energy (compared to its worth) has been expended on it, I have to move on. It's making me sick! Sick! Everyone knows me as a quiet person. Here's one of the reasons why. There is just too much pontification on worn-out issues going on. Dont get it twisted. I can listen to my beloved minister do his thing. I can join in on a community lecture. These things actually satisfy my soul. But when one person or one topic is drudged through the mud til there's just dry, bare bones where juicy meat used to be. . .let's drop it.
Now, the significance to my goddess quest: Imma hafta get over this. I believe that people are entitled to their opinions. Just because I'm not a big talker doesnt mean that I shouldnt give the talkers fair ground to do just so. Besides, I like to have Big Talkers in my close circle because I suck at it and they balance me. But at the same time, I shouldn't sit up and listen AT LENGTH to some sh*! I no longer want to hear. I'm thinking the solution (which is always the solution, by the way) is: open, honest, unashamed, forthright, strongwilled communication. And when that doesn't work I'll try unashamed, forthright, strongwilled subject switching. For my tummy in the meantime, I'll try to find a better weight gain strategy than eating 2.5 servings of grits for brunch (but please believe, I aint losing one inch of hip/booty/thigh meat!)
Holla!

love and honesty

I just finished watching a really great movie called "Bella". It involved tragedy, but it was so beautiful because the family was so loving. It was as if they could love each other through whatever. I come from a loving family. Most of my compadres tell me flat out that they WISH they were as close with their moms as I am with mine. Unfortunately, I never learned the art of flat out honesty. I have begun to dabble in it lately, but I usually end up pissing people off. My sister is good with it and it doesnt hurt when she does it. She is also tough enough to completely blow off insults and rude behavior without crying or losing her amazingly thorough kewl in public. I am trying to get there. Everything makes me cry (almost) and usually when someone hurts me and I let on that they've hurt me. . .or when I hurt someone else, the love is "lost". I want to get to the point where I can understand that shcrap happens. It does. And when it does, there doesnt have to be any love lost. I mean, let me just be all the way honest. I am soooooo mad and hurt by the actions and circumstances surrounding my first adult relationship, but I still love and even miss him a little. I want him to be doing alright. I want to. . .whatever. Anyway, my point is that I believe that on my quest to finding my inner goddess (more on that later) I have to learn to be all the way honest about my joys and pains and likes and dislikes and not be afraid of or led by my fear of loneliness. If we fall out, we can fix it. I am kinda impulsive (when I'm honest with my self) and if an impulse led me to snap at you the love can just as quickly lead me to apologize. Right?

Love Re(v)ellion

Here's a reprint from a previous blog 'o mine. Yes, this is blog plagiarism. . .but I own the rights so, "Boom!" Anyway, I think this is quite reflective of me and my inner goddess. Enjoy. Know me, Love me.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Who loves ya, babe?!


Got this in an email today from a friend (who will remain nameless):

"for real tho.. i cant wait until you get married, you are one of the most (if not, the most) lovey dovey, touchy feely, wear your heart on your sleeve, people that i know and i think i would just be in tears all day because you would be like, overflowing with joy and you are so fufilled by love and relationships... sorry on a tangent... "

This comes at a great time because I am sooooooo irritated today. I got a sinus headache that wont give (my mom is diagnosing me with an infection right this instant). Unfortunately, I dont think I can swing a co-pay and a prescription just yet. Anyway, let us focus on one central theme: I am fulfilled by love and relationships.(then)?(then)! I guess it's true. My new mental response to the well-intentioned who tell me that they arent ready for marriage and neither am I, is: I know what type of goddess I embody/represent/am and she is vulnerable. She draws strength from loving and serving. She doesn't feel that she is weakened by what may be referred to as "traditional feminine roles". But, she dislikes being used. Usery is a quick road to the *bleep* LIST. The confusion comes into play, however, when you live on the planet earth in 2008 where everyone is proving a point and riding a (dare I say) rollercoaster of emotions.

Oh yea, the point. My point is that I'm LOVEY DOVEY. I revel in it and I love being around people with whom I am comfortable enough to let it all hang out. I looked up the word "revel" and it seems to have some connection to "rebel". So, poop on he that would poop on me for being "too nice". This is me. It's my personal rebellion against angry, disgruntled, bad breath having, emotional nitwits.

All the Single Men?

Oh, yes! I am sooooo gonna to ride this mutha-uhn uhn til the wheels fall off.

Yes, I still got a tinge of beef with Justin "Loser"lake (that's what my nephews call him), but if ya work it, ya work it. And he's workin' it! Go B, Go JT, Go fine-whiteboy-from-Clueless, Go Funny-SNL-Rappin-Narnia Dude!



Please stop viewing at the 4:47 point. Eh? And if that don't work, try this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2I121W5AlA

Twenty-Eight, Up!

Friday was my birthday.

I had a pretty good time (although I could be lying right now as not to sound ungrateful for all the loving people in my life who happen to not be "best best kickin it buddies" but still tried to spend time with me because they know that I am sensitive and they didnt want to leave me somewhere sad and lonely which I hate. . .dwell on it!). The work day was nice. I had sushi for lunch. For some strange reason I thought that if it was deep-fried that the salmon would be cooked like it is at this other place. Nope! It was raw. And I ordered it. So I ate it. It was good, too. But I have no plans for going back. This year I've been called out twice; once for not expanding my mind to calamari and once for frowning at sushi. Both times by men who need to expand their minds to dark-skinned ars. Back to me --Mission accomplished. Naysayers, fcuk off!
Meanwhile, back at the office, I laid low in the office while the homies gathered in the employee lounge. Happy Birthday they yelled. Then we ate cake.

I had a good work day.

I dropped my son with my big cousin and littler cousins on a whim. They had a blast. I went to the grown folks spot. Eh. Then I left and went to the young and glamorous folks spot. Shoulda stayed with the grown folks. Heck, I shoulda stayed with the cousins and my baby boy. Then went to my parents and just absorbed the love. Instead, I tried to get fly and kick it. Not really at the place. Doesn't quite work. So I sat at the bar drinking cranberry juice. Mixed with ginger ale. Fighting tears. At the bar. On my birthday.

Brutal honesty burns me. But it's supposed to be cathartic.

"Whoop when ya feel it, holla if ya hear it." -jilly-from-philly

Look, ma. No pole!

First day with the new blog? I sure hope this works!
This video is golden. Boy-boy is workin' it. . .whatever it is. I absolutely love seeing people dance and ya' boy is doin' it.

My conscience tells me not to revel in such blurring of lines, but all I can do is holler. Almost like the first time I saw the original video, but with more laughing and clapping.

Get it, littlewhiteboyindrag!