Friday Foolishness

Do people give a thought to what kind of car they have when they're buying rims? 22 inch rims in steel grey don't look right on a seafoam green Corolla.

There is a place up the street from our place that allows you to rent to own your rims, and it is always packed in there. It's a damn shame when there's a Rent-A-Center version of Pimp My Ride. Ladies, make sure your man is up to date with his payments, you wouldn't want to be out with him and he gets his rims reposessed.

What happened in LL Cool J's life that he went from "Rock the Bells" and "Around the Way Girl" to being a wanna be fitness guru?

Is the state of the black man really that jacked up? I've had 3 different people ask me if D is black because they've never heard of a black man actually wanting to get married.

Some women need to realize that just because it's made in their size doesn't mean they should wear it. Not every outfit flatters every body shape. Especially when your body is shaped like Swamp Thing.

I'm ready to melt every pair of those plastic Crocs shoes in existence. They are not cute unless paired with medical scrubs.

My mom told me that she's going up to the casino on the Reservation about 100 miles from her house this weekend. But not to gamble. She's going to buy cheap, tax-free cigarettes. Umm. Damn mama.

Is it really okay for strangers to tell me that I remind them of a Kid Sister Doll? I guess it is, because a bunch of people at work, who I don't even know have said that to me while waiting for food in the cafeteria. What the hell does that mean anyway?

Two of my friends are going to get boob jobs and butt implants together (they didn't invite me along cuz I have too much, lol). Am I supposed to send a get well card? What should it say??
Congratulations on your new tits and azz! Get well soon. Hope you don't get scars and strech marks!

I heard Monica and Brandy "The Boy is Mine" this morning and I got almost kinda sad. Brandy could have done so much with her life. But here's the video anyway:




Have a great weekend!!

Escalator to Hell

I've just been informed that I'm on an express escalator to Hell. I guess I'll stop and get some cute red shoes along the way--gotta match the devil you know. *sigh*, the sarcasm.

I, like most other people, have the set of "that" family. The ones people don't really mess with because they're all certifiably crazy and that you can't really bring to many social functions because you know they'll embarass themselves and you.

My great aunt, she is one of them. My mom called and told her about the engagement (or pending engagement, however you want to look at it) and she was none too pleased about the news. Auntie Sharlese, who is close to elderly but far far from senile called me last night to vent her feelings about it.

Auntie: "Child. Child. Child. You know you gon' go to see Satan cuz this, right?"

Me: "Why Auntie?"

Auntie: "You aint posed to let no man axe you to marry him like that."

Me: "Why? I thought that was tradition."

Auntie: "A woman don't lay back and wait for no man to axe her questions like that. You posed to go get what you want. You weak child, you weak. You ain't gon' be no good wife. God don't like Ugly, and He don't like weak neither."

Me: "In what Bible does it say this?"

Auntie: "Don't question me."

Me: "Auntie, it's been nice talking to you, I have to go to bed."


I know there is no reasoning with her. Gotta love the fam!

Overnight Celebrity

Yesterday afternoon, I was at the gas station and some young chick--about 16 years old--ran up to me and said, "Are you really La Bella Noire?" I was taken for a loop, but told her I was and she got all excited. "I hope your toes are better and I hope your job isn't so ghetto anymore", she said. I asked her where she knew me from and she said she saw my picture on one of my friend's Fac.e.book albums, then tracked me down to my blog from there.

I didn't know if I should be flattered or scared for my life. I know I've recognized people that I thought I saw online, but I never went up to them and invaded their personal bubble. And I've never staked someone out from a site like Mys.p.ace or F.ac.e.book to their blog and been proud of it. D said I should take down my pics and close my F.ac.ebook account because of this incident, but I'm not about to rearrange my life because of some kid.

But now I wonder, have any of yall ever run into someone from the internet? I don't mean someone you met on a dating site either--I mean you read their website or something and see them in person. Hmmm....?

They Call Me Mrs. Military

So this weekend was lots of fun, and that's probably why I'm left with some kind of head cold. Ehh, well I left work early to rest, so I can't complain too much. Friday I went to my stepsister's house for my stepnephew's going away party. He's leaving for a college summer program, and won't be back for any real length of time before he starts his freshman year. Do the damn thing boy!! I'm so proud of him, it seems like only a few years ago he was graduating from 4th grade. I'm starting to feel old cuz all of my stepnieces and nephews are either graduating or getting married (a few of them are my age, since most of my step siblings are old enough to be my parents, but I digress). A few of his friends actually tried to holla at me. I guess I'm kinda flattered that a whole rack of 17- and 18-year olds think I've got it. One of them even went the "I can treat you better than your man" route. He was like, "I gotta car and I stay in the basement so it's like my own apartment". I had to take a drink just so I wouldn't laugh. Awww, cute but boo you need to step up your game. Then another one tried, "I'mma buy you a drank!!". Aww, poor thing, you aren't old enough to buy alcohol yet...and we're at a HS graduation party for your friend, so everyone knows how old you are. No dranks for you!

Saturday I went to brunch downtown with the girls, and it was nice for all of us to get out without someone's boyfriend in tow. It seems like when we go out, somebody's man feels the need to tag along. As Sister Toldja would say, that's poor design. We likened ourselves to a better version of "Girlfriends", cuz none of us really have issues like that, lol.

Saturday night, D and I had dinner as usual and he said he was going to work late since he wanted to spend some time with me. It's hard for us since we work opposite shifts--he works overnights and I work a regular 9-5 so some days I only get to see him for about 2 hours before he leaves for work. Anyhoo, we got comfy and started watching a movie, and I fell asleep as usual. For some reason, if I try to watch a movie with him on the sofa I always fall asleep without fail. I guess this was all in his plan.

He went to work and left me sleeping on the couch. When I woke up, I felt something cold around my neck. I sat up quick and saw it was a dog tag on a chain. Now, if you don't know, dog tags are important to military people. It kind of serves as their identification, since it has their name, religion, birthdate, etc stamped on them. They wear them while at combat so just in case they get killed, people know who that body is. I have one of D's dog tags from Afghanistan on my set of keys for my mom's house. I keep them there because my mom's house will always be home, and home is where your heart is. D is my heart, so he's on my home keys. Sounds silly, I know, but it makes sense to me. Anyway, I woke up and saw a dog tag on this chain, and I thought it was his, but when I looked closer I saw it was stamped with:

Mrs. Military,
Will You Marry Me?

His nickname with his people is Military, so I'm Mrs. Military by default. His friends call me that sometimes, so it's cute. I went to the bedroom to get the phone to call him and I saw an envelope on the bed. I read the note, and it said...

"This is just the beginning. Not official yet."

I was all confused, so I forgot the phone and ran in the bathroom to get kleenex to wipe my eyes, but there was another note taped to the mirror. It said:

"You are cordially invited to a celebration of us next Saturday, time and location are classified information. Remember, not official yet"

I finally managed to get him on the phone and ask him what's going on and all he would say was "you'll see...you'll see". When he got home from work Sunday morning, I grilled him, but he only gave a little bit of information. He said the dog tag was the unoffical proposal, and to just be patient. So I guess I'm engaged now. Unofficially anyway, but that works for me. I know the ring is coming, but the dog tag means just as much because I know that to an ex-military person, those things mean so much. So now, that dog tag is on my every day keys cuz they go everywhere I do, and so does my love.

The rest of Sunday went by in a blur, but I did manage to catch a cold. Fun. *rolls eyes* I hope you all had a wonderful weekend too!

How come...?

Because it's Friday and I'm lazy, here are some of the (stupid) questions on my mind...

-How come tourists forget that not all of us are on vacation? We live and work here dammit, get out of the way. NO I don't want to take your picture in front of the Metro sign.

-How come management gets all tight lipped when they have to fire someone on your team, but the next week they're talkin all kinds of shit about that person. Unprofessional maybe?

-How come I saw a lady wearing a suit pushing a stroller this morning but there was no baby inside--just a case of Heineken? And she was smoking a Black n' Mild. Hmmmm

-How come one of my credit cards expired on May 31 and I still haven't received the new one. And every time I call, the people say "it's on it's way". I just called, and they're deactivating the one that was on it's way and sending me a new one overnight with delivery confirmation. It's a shame I had to get almost ign'ant to get some decent service

-How come I keep hearing Mo'nique on the radio?

-How come when I go to buy shoes, my size is always sold out?

-How come it seems like certain races of people weren't meant to be drivers and shouldn't be allowed on the road? I'm not being hateful or racist, I'm just going on pure observation.

-How come people get offended when people can't pronounce their name properly the first time they see it. Yesterday, some woman got mad when I called and asked for her and screwed her name up...it's spelled Aphiysiza. WTF is that?

-How come traffic can be moving at a good clip, but the moment you realize that you have to pee, it comes to a grinding halt?

-How come some women tell me that I should just let myself go completely since I have a man? Damn, is it okay for me to want to look good for ME??

-How come so many people lie about being in a Greek organization? Everyone knows you're lying, so stop the games.

-How come so many people think it's okay to say to me and other New Yorkers, "Yall are some loud people. Within 5 minutes of talkin to you, we know you're from NY. Yall are so daggone RUDE"? Damn, we aren't all like that (all the time anyway).

-How come I saw a beaver in front of my apt. complex yesterday? I think it was a beaver anyway. I wasn't trying to stick around to find out.

-How come it's not time for me to leave work yet!? I'm can taste my margarita now. Happy hour is not coming quick enough!


What are your plans for the weekend? I'll be enjoying some fun times with the girls tonight and tomorrow and house hunting with D on Sunday. Whatever you get into, have fun and be safe!

Similac on your breath...

This morning on my way to work I had a few extra minutes, so I stopped to get a smoothie and a muffin. Normally I wouldn't stop at this place because a lot of construction workers tend to congregate there, and their trucks take up too much of the pitifully small parking lot. But whatever--I had time, so I took the chance.

I couldn't even get in the door before I heard, "Yeah baby! You look good, probably still drinking from your mama's bosom!"

So I looked behind me and of course it was Willie. You all know Willie...the type of man who just looks like he has a closet full of Member's Only jackets and a few leisure suits. He looks like he can fry the hell out of some catfish and make a mean pulled pork BBQ sandwich. He wears shorts with dress socks and sandals and has a random assortment of gold chains. He might even have a part cut into his high top fade. Yeah...that guy.

I tried like hell to ignore him, and kept going toward the counter. He found some way to get all behind me and I could just feel his hot azz Colt 45-laden breath on the back of my neck. That mess made me so nauseous, and I guess in trying to focus on ordering my stuff and keep my stomach settled, I blacked out just a bit and I didn't hear him order. Apparently he said to the person taking his order that he would pay for mine cuz when I got to the register to pay, they said it was already taken care of.

I took a quick look back and saw him staring at me all crazy. He gave me a wink and opened his mouth enough to show me his gold tooth. I swear I saw a diamond chip in it just gleaming. I mumbled a thank you and tried to get out as fast as I could. My gotdamned sandals and my still jacked-up toe were slowing me down terrible though, so of course he caught up with me.

"Why you runnin? I'm just trying to get to know you"

"Umm, thanks for paying for my food. That was nice"

"So you got a man? Cuz you and me, we could be good together"

"Yeah, I'm practically married"

"I betcha he can't take care of you like I could. I have benefits"

"I have benefits too, and I need to get to my job so I can keep them. Have a nice day"

"Damn, them young girls...So much spunk"


I hurried up and got in my car and rolled out. I saw from my side mirror that he got in what else but a Cadillac. *sigh* I guess I'll stick to the McD's drive through for breakfast from now on, but it was nice getting my food paid for. Damn, I hope he didn't write my license plate # down and try to track me down that way.

Gracious

With all the stuff I've been trying to deal with the last few weeks concerning my parents, especially the last few days, I've been less than enjoyable to be around. I don't know how D has managed to deal with me, but he's done a great job...

Hunny,
Thank you so much for being there with me as I go through this hard time. I'm sure there are plenty of other things you'd rather be doing than wiping tears from my eyes and hugging me when I'm shaking like a leaf from crying so hard. Thank you so much for assuring me that I'm still beautiful through tears and snot and kleenex. Thank you for continuing to hold me up when I feel like I can't take much more. Thank you for being willing to fight through all of this with me, and for allowing some of this to fall on your shoulders because you know mine are getting weak. Thank you for making your arms the safest, most comfortable place in the world.

You could very easily judge me and consider me less than, because you know exactly who's who in your world. But you don't, and neither does any of your family. I was afraid if you told your mom that she'd get to thinking I was some low-life ghetto trash, but instead she gave me the biggest hug anyone has ever given me, and she and your dad told me that if I needed a set of parents--a mom and a dad--here in MD cuz my mom and stepdaddy are so far away in NY that they consider me their daughter. That means more to me than I can properly express to you.

You've made it so easy for me to share my ups, downs, and indifferences with you and since I made this discovery, you've been nothing less than amazing. Thank you for calling my mom and having her mail my Glowworm to me when you saw me curled up in a fetal position crying my eyes out. That toy was like a security blanket for me as I watched my parents fight and what not when I was little, so it means soo much that you listened and knew what would help me smile.

Thanks for being willing to help me figure out how to ask the difficult questions of my family, and being willing to stand beside me as I try to get the words out. I'm not sure when I'll be ready to do that, but I know the day is coming, and knowing that I don't have to do it alone means so much.

I could go on and on, but there really is no need. Thank you for being amazing. I love you!

Fathers, Daughters, and Unknowns

Today, the day after the cards and ties and hugs have been exchanged, I'm still left feeling a little empty. Father's Day is now a difficult holiday for me to be jubilant about because now there are more questions than answers.

When I was born, I had a father. Just one. As shitty as he was to me, he was my father and later on became the representation of what a man isn't supposed to be. Every Father's Day, I'd make him a construction paper card with all the love in the world, even though he showed much less than that love back to me. He usually wasn't around to get the cards, but my mom would take them and promise me that he'd get them. It wasn't until about 3 years ago that I found her collection of cards that she stashed away. The cards all had "Return to Sender" marked on them. At least she tried.

Then my mom got remarried. My stepfather was and still is everything my father could never be. I understand now the meaning of a daddy's girl. That's me. He's my daddy, and many people don't realize that he's not my father. That's how tight we are. Every Father's Day he's there appreciative of whatever gift he receives, even if it's just a phone call. He's held my hand as I go from being under the watchful eyes of him and my mom to standing on my own two feet. It's been hard to experience my loyalty shifting from my father to my daddy. He's my forever rock, and I'll always be his little girl. The youngest. The baby. That's my daddy.

Then it hit me a few weeks ago. Everything I experienced with my father growing up may have been in vain. I ran across a medical report of his from before the divorce while I was cleaning at my mom's house. The blood type didn't match what I've been told my whole life. I asked him about it a few days later, and he confirmed what the report said. I'm a biology nerd at heart, so I went back and re-read my genetics notes and my heart sank. His blood type plus my mother's blood type can't produce mine. Not possible. That lead me to think about a close "friend" my mom would bring around after her and my father got divorced. He was the closest thing I had to a dad between the ages of 3 and 5. Birthday gifts and hugs, trips to the circus and cotton candy. Later on I found out that he was her high school sweetheart, they had planned on getting married. He was also her "confidant" while she was going through the mire with my father. She would retreat back to NYC and hang out with him for the weekend. And him and I have the same blood type. Her blood type plus his could produce mine.

His daughter and I look so much alike it's scary. He referred to me as his little one a few times that I can remember. I wish I had a better answer, but I don't. He died the day before I started 6th grade due to a bad asthma attack. I have a hat of his, and his mother gave me his favorite pair of winter gloves. I'm tempted to do the DNA test, but that might make everything too clear. Answers to my questions would simply beget more questions. I'm not sure if I'm ready to know if my father is really that nice guy I considered an uncle. I'm not sure if I'm ready to consider the idea of my mother lying to save face. I'm not sure I feel like continuing my thoughts about this...

Father's Day...

Happy Father's Day to all the dads (and moms who have to be dad).

I have a lot on my mind about fathers and daughters, but I don't have it in me to let it all out yet, so pardon the short post. I'll get back to it tomorrow, be blessed.

Somebody's Watchin Me....

I think I've got a cyber stalker, and it's someone I kinda know. This is uncharacteristic of me, but...

***PLEASE BACK THE FUCK UP!!***

Dear Stalker,

I love that people stop by this here blog and read about the mess that goes on in my life and the stuff I think about. But I don't like the fact that I've had limited real-world contact with you, yet you think you really know me and the stuff that goes on in my life cuz you read this blog. I know you're watching me like a hawk to see if I say or do something out of line on this blog so you can try to use that ish against me and gain some ground on me. I hope that's not the case, and I want you to prove me wrong. I have a whole lot I could say about this, but I'mma keep my mouf shut cuz I'm better than that. But I feel your eyes on me. Heh.


Ok, now that I've gotten that off my chest, I have been watching you. In your cars that is. I have a pretty long commute every day, and I see people doing the nastiest and stupidest shit in their cars....

-I know you think boogers are a good source of protein, and they very well may be. But if you're going to eat them, please do so in the privacy of your own home or bathroom or something with thick walls and no windows. You are grown, for the love of God, stop eating your snot. Vomit!!!

-Girl, I know People is a good magazine. I have a subscription myself. But I read it sitting on my sofa at home. You shouldn't be reading the articles at the stoplight.

-Sudoku is a fun puzzle. It keeps me occupied at work a lot. It shouldn't keep you occupied on the highway. I know the traffic jams stop traffic sometimes, but it's easier just to listen to the radio. All that juggling of the newspaper and a pen is really hard and you might avoid smashing your car up.

-Speaking of smashing cars up, accidents happen everyday. Especially in an area like this. You will see them often. It's the same deal everytime--bent up metal, maybe some injured people, and police cars. There is NO need for you to look at the accident as you drive by. It slows down traffic and might even cause another accident.

-Blackberry + Soda + Driving = Stupid. Stop it.

-I eat in the car all the time. But it's something I can eat with my hands like fries or fruit. Why are you eating eggs and sausage with a fork? You'd probably be the one to sue McD's if the food spills and ruins your upholstery.

-Just because it's dark doesn't mean we can't see in your car, especially if you don't have tints and we're on a busy street (that means streetlights and such). That is not a good time to give your man "road head". If you're going to do some stupid ish like that, wait till you're on the highway.

-You can't have a conversation with the people in the car next to you when you're going 40 mph. It just don't happen like that, so stop trying. Wait till you get to the light and roll the windows down and shout, or better yet, pull the f**k over.

The Ex-Games

On Saturday, D and I went shopping (well, he and his boy did the man thing and went to the DuClaw bar at Arundel Mills while me and his boy's fiancée did the shopping) and to his neice's high school graduation party. On the way to the party, we stopped to get gas. Of course, who do we see but my ex. I really didn't think anything of it, figured I'd say hey and keep it moving. Which is exactly what happened, except for him giving me that wink as we were leaving. I knew he was trying to be up to no good.

We got home around 1AM, and I checked my email and of course Ex-Factor had clogged up my inbox. He sent me 4 e-cards all talkin about he's sorry and wants to give things another chance, blah blah blah. I guess his wifey caught the same clue I did and left his ass in the dust. Needless to say, I was not amused, didn't find it cute, and was not trying to make amends with him. I showed D the emails and cards and he busted out laughing, pointing out the fact that ex-factor misspelled my name not once, but twice! Tashia and Toshha. WTF?! Anyhoo, we laughed about it, but I didn't respond to the e-cards. I figured he'd get the hint and leave me alone.

Sunday, I check my email again and this fool had the nerve to send me a 3 page long "I'm sorry I f***ed up, please take me back" email. I was tempted to have D email him back with the "don't mess with my woman" message, but I didn't even have to go that route. I read the email closely and saw that he messed up for real. I guess what he sent me was a form letter where the names can be copied and pasted as needed cuz in places where my name should have been, some other chick's name (his last gf I assume) was there. For example...

"...Tasha, you are the center of my universe. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to realize this, and I know it's no on your schedule, but give me the opportunity to show you...Alejandra, this is the realest I can be. I'm giving you my soul and I hope you take the time to think about..."

All I did was highlight the wrong name (NINE TIMES IN THE LETTER!!) and send it back to him with a note, "Send this to Alejandra, cuz it wasn't meant for me and if it was, I don't want it". I got a response from him and all it said was, "Damn."

That's exactly why he's my ex. LMAO!

Don't Be Crude...

...Cuz I would never be that crude to yooouuu!

Sorry, I know those aren't the real words to the song, but I got carried away. I'm fully expecting Bobby Brown to come chase after me for royalties in a crack induced stupor. Riiiiight.

Anyway, Ladies, lemme holla at'chall for a minute. The whole reason I'm singin 'bout some don't be crude is because of, how shall I put this...your restroom etiquette. Look, we're all grown here, so I'mma just keep it real.

-Flush the gotdamned toilet when you're done. Are you really that lazy? Did you actually forget to do this as you walked away??

-You know that cutesy pie lil' plaque you have over your bathroom at home (which applies to the men in your home) that says "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat"? Well, if you are a public restroom "squatter" (you know what I mean)then this applies to you as well.

-"It's the first of the month...so cash yo' checks and get up...." Sorry, carried away with the songs again. But dammit, I'm talkin to you with the music. That time of the month? I know it sucks, really I know cuz I'm a woman too. But for the love of all things good, please clean up after yourself. It is HELLA disturbing to walk up on a stall with an errant soiled tampon in the toilet it's remnants all over the seat.

-Look. Be real with yourself and us. We know that when you get in the stall and get all quiet and don't move at all, that you gots some *ahem* bidness to handle. If you're that worried about being heard, go to the solo-restroom on the first floor. Or on your break, go to the 7-11 and blow it up, girl. If you think someone may recognize your shoes, before you go to the restroom, change your shoes and go to a different floor where you don't know anyone. Be creative, cuz just sitting there like a lame duck waiting for the restroom to clear out ain't gon' bring you or the rest of us any relief.

-Those seat protectors are for your seat. The toilet seat. Not the floor. Not the stall door, not the wall. Please take one as you enter, and use it to protect your seat. The toilet seat. Not the floor. Not the stall door, not the wall. Thank you for your cooperation.

-The restroom is not Lee's Nails. Please, it's already funky enough. There is no need to mix bathroom bad odors with acrylic-smelling nail polish. Handle that after work, mmmk?

-I can't believe that you and the Shenquisha Wanda Monée Charnay Jenkins wannabe actually had the nerve to set up your electric hot comb and flat iron in the bathroom and leave them there all day with a note that said "Please don't touch. Signed, L." And yall were fixin that hair up at lunch and your "smoke break" time burnin hair grease and all that. There are no good dudes here, are you that pressed for some "I wanna f*** you" attention from the peanut gallery in the cafeteria at lunch? Lemme stop before I say too much.

-Paper towels are for drying your hands, not for writing down your phone number to give to the janitor.

-Look, I understand sometimes you take your infant to the mall, and while you're there you may have to change a diaper or two. But my goodness, you put your baby's bare azz on the counter/sink??? That's just wrong. Five yard penalty. Put a towel or blankie or something down. Germs, woman! They can get in your baby's bum. Your baby's bum can spread some germs to the counter which may then be passed to other people.

Damn, just damn.

More Conversations With La Bella Mama

Now that I live with D, my mother felt the need to pass on some nuggets of wisdom to me last night. Apparently these are secrets known by all wives and live in girlfriends the world over, and she felt that I'm now in a place to know this information. My mother is an absolute nut, she really needs her own reality show or something.

Me: "Mom, I love him dearly, but he has some habits I just can't stand. Uggggg! The shirts!"

Mom: "Just leaves 'em on the floor, right? And has a few that he wears ALL the time, but you hate and think the rest of the world hates just as much?"

Me: "Ohmygod. Yup. You have the same problem?"

Mom: "Every married woman or live in girlfriend has or has had this issue. Hmmm, you know what you do right? Damn, I shouldn't be telling you this. I really shouldn't."

Me: "You can't not tell me now!"

Mom: "Okay...well....alright. Now don't get too happy with this but, every once in a blue moon, take one of the shirts you HATE and just hide it. Does he go in your car trunk?"

Me: "No. Not unless we're grocery shopping or something"

Mom: "Okay good. When he starts looking for it, you look for it just as hard as he does. Just make sure you don't laugh or get that crooked face you get when you're trying to hide something. Jesus, I know I shouldn't have told you this."

Me: **dying laughing**

Mom: "About 3 or 4 months later, get another one of his shirts that you hate and rip a big azz hole in the armpit. Then throw it in the wash and when you take it out tell him 'Awwww baby, your shirt got messed up in the wash'. And try not to laugh. If you think he might try to fix the hole, throw some bleach on it and wash it then tell him it got caught up in the white clothes when you were doing laundry"

Me: **still laughing @ the idea of my mama telling me this mess**

Mom: "Then you say, well let's go shopping and replace that shirt that got messed up. You pick one out that you like and say 'you'd look sexy in this. Go try it on'. He'll wear that shirt proudly cuz he knows you think it looks sexy."

Me: "So you do this to daddy?"

Mom: "What do you think? You saw those crazy looking shirts he had when we got married? They got *ahem* upgraded. You must not know bout me, child!"

Me: "Damn. So did gramma teach you this?"

Mom: "Of course, and I saw my aunts and her friends do it, and all my married friends do it too. It makes for a happy household. Or at least one that doesn't involve your man going out looking a mess."

Me: "Gramma? Really!?"

Mom: "You may have been too young to remember, but she was just obvious with hers. She would see a shirt she hate and rip it to shreds, then tell grampa, 'Well Henry, your shirt got effed up in the washer machine. It's in the garbage now. You're gonna have to wear that new one the kids bought you.'"

Me: "He must have gotten hip to the game"

Mom: "I'm sure he did, but they were married so long he just went along with it. That's why you gotta be sneaky. Yall ain't been married no 50 years, and me either, so we gotta be sneaky. Can't have them catch up to us. If you're good though, all those shirts you just hate will be gone in 2 years, maybe less."


I couldn't take anymore after that. I had to hang up with her. And of course, when I got off the phone, I saw D wearing one of the shirts I hate to see him in. That shirt is my target. Lemme go see how our supply of Clorox is looking...

Wednesday Whining

Just because I feel like whining this morning...

-Ok, so why do all the cute shoes wait until my toes/feet are out of commission to show up?! I want to go shoe shopping this weekend, hopefully my foot will be back to a normal size by Saturday.

-I'm not comfortable taking diet advice from a 400 lb. woman. I'm a non-small girl, so I'm allowed to say that. This office woman is forever saying ish like, "when I was small, I didn't use Equal or Splenda, I ate regular sugar so you should too" or "you should eat more leafy veggies because they have iron". Look, I got this weight loss thing under control. Why is she giving advice when she's sitting there eating Chipotle and has gained 60 lbs in the last year? And why aren't you small now? Uggh!

-I'm really tired of hearing about the guy with TB who flew on the planes to and from Europe. What he did is already done, there is no need for the squabbling about it now. Move forward and get the situation dealt with.

-Why, black women, whyyyyyy??? I had to go to Targét yesterday after work, and while I was in there these two ginormous black women were in there talkin about how they're going to buy this top (a workout shirt/sports bra thingy) and wear it to the club. There needs to be a stop to the gym in there too.

-Like a lot of other bloggers have said this week: We work in an office, not the club. Please dress accordingly. If you know you have thick legs and a booty to match, DO NOT wear a mini skirt to work. It will ride up in the back and your whole azz will be showing, and you'll think you're too sexy cuz people are looking your way when in fact we're actually looking at your panties which say Sunday when today is Wednesday.

-Who said it was okay to smoke weed with your baby in the car with you? Triflin azz people. Yall think we can't see what you're doing at the stoplight??? I wish we were able to get your tag #.

-This toe situation has left my pedicure less than attractive. Booooooo. Guess I'll be trying to get that remedied this weekend. Dammit, only I could pull off some mess like that--fall off the damn shoe and break toes. Only me, I swear.

-We're having a party at work tomorrow for this dude who's getting married in a few weeks, and we were all asked to contribute. I haven't contributed yet, because I know the man is cheating on his fiancée and he looks like he has homo-thug tendencies. I respect the institution of marriage too much to support the lil shindig.

-My ex is trying like hell to get back on my good side. He invited me to "hang out" at Love this weekend since he's a "club promoter" now. He needs to go somewhere, cuz the only thing he's good at promoting is his non-dateability.

-I just learned that 65% of my co-workers are age 21 and under. That explains a lot, but they look much older. Hard life maybe?

-Not whining at all here... I'm so happy and so blessed. Even with the ridiculous job I have, the broken toes, a past that's less than cute, and all the trials and obstacles, I still love my life.

Only Me

I never knew that shoes could be so dangerous, especially once they're on your feet. This morning, I'm sitting up here with three broken toes and a slightly bruised ego. See, yesterday I thought I was too cute and put on some peep toe wedges and of course, like a fool, decided that I needed to take a walk at lunch time. I don't know why it did not occur to me that walking + wedges may = problems. But of course, I fell off of my right shoe, and landed flat on my face, but I managed to get my foot caught up in the shoe and injured my toes.

I was quick to get back up and keep walking, cuz you know how it is--gotta spring back up after you trip and/or fall so it looks like you didn't hurt yourself, or like you really meant to do that. Gotta maintain that shred of dignity right. But lemme telll yoooou, my toes were swelling all crazy, and I was definitely doing that "my foot hurts like hell, but I'm trying to maintain my cute" walk. I was afraid to take my shoe off for the rest of the day, cuz I knew if I did that, my toes would swell to the size of Barney's fingers.

I drove myself home, but as soon as I walked hobbled into the kitchen, D looked at me and my foot and said, "We're going to the hospital. Baby, your toes are to' up" and holla'd laughing at his 'joke'. Ha.

So needless to say, we ended up at the urgent care place and after a surprisingly short wait, I went to x-ray. They said I broke three toes and may have a slight sprain in my ankle. They sent me home on crutches, wearing the Ace Bandage from hell. I am not a fan. So instead of being a whiny cry baby this morning and staying home, I sucked it up and put on the stinkin ace bandage (cuz now there is NO hope of me getting this foot in anybody's shoe right now) and I am one-crutching it around the office.

There will be no walk during lunch. I think I'll bring some tennis shoes for the next time I get a smart idea like that.

Baby Shower for a Baby

So I ended up going to the baby shower for my friend's little sister on Friday. All I can say is that I felt like I was part of a twisted mix of sweet sixteen, debutante ball, tea party, Maury Show, and baby shower. A apologized to me before, during, and after the whole mess for having such a jacked up situation in her family. I've seen people in less-than-triumphant moments in their lives, but this just made my head hurt. A and I met in college, and I knew she had a little sister, but she never really got into the mess that is that poor girl's life, and for good reason I see now.

When A and I got there, I was instructed to put on a pair of long white gloves and told to sit at the table and get acquainted with the other guests while A helped her sister get ready. We drank tea and ate pettifours like we were at some high class place, but mind you we were in a condo in Bowie. Nothing fancy, and a buch of chicks were sitting there in dressy-casual wear (i.e. jeans with a cute top or something similar) with white gloves on drinking tea. I took pics, but my camera is not cooperating right now, so if I get it working anytime soon, I'll post them.

Then the party girl came down the stairs dressed in a sundress and strappy heels carrying a flower like she was a bridesmaid walking down the aisle. All I could think was "what in the blue hell...". I have no idea the reason behind all of the pomp and circumstance, but I just tried to write it off as their family tradition.

We played the usual baby shower games, but then the girl got up and walked around the room, stopping in front of everyone there and told us to rub her belly. I am not comfortable touching the pregnant belly of someone I barely know, and I told her that, but she put my hand right over her belly button and told me to say the first name I thought of. I said "Jayden" (my godson's name), and she responded with a too-excited "that's good, mommy write that down!!". I figured out that she was asking everyone to say a name in hopes of finding one for her unborn baby. Blech. I can't get up with that practice. Not at all. But again, maybe it was tradition.

But things got too much for me when her and her mother passed around the sonogram pictures and pictures of the potential baby daddies. There were 5. She said something to the effect of "Who does everyone think the baby's dad is? Who does the ultrasound pic look like? Guess right, and we'll give you a prize, answers following the birth." I am so serious about this. I couldnt make this up if I tried. All that was too much for me, and I let A know, so we both left. Apparently her family was too much for her right then.

Later on, A and I went for a drink and she told me that her parents were only hosting and participating in that foolishness because they want their youngest daughter to know that she is loved and that she will have support in raising her baby. A feels like the bad guy in the situation trying to tell her parents that they are showing their intentions the wrong way, and I have to agree with her.

In my eyes, her parents are condoning this type of behavior. A just got her Masters Degree, and is doing well for herself, yet finds herself the black sheep. A baby having a baby is being celebrated more than a successful young woman. I can understand her resentment. All I can do is hope for the best for that girl and baby...

Get at me in the comments.

TGIF

I am too ready for this weekend. I worked all of four days and feel like I need another week off. It's always something about the week after a holiday that makes me soooo tired. I thought I hit the snooze button this morning, but instead turned the alarm off in my sleepy stupor, then slept for another 30 minutes. Needless to say I was running like a fugitive slave when I finally did get out of bed. That's what I get for staying up and watching the game go into double OT. Hmmph.

I'm supposed to be going to a baby shower for my friend's little sister tonight, but I really don't know if I want to go. I know that sounds bad, but I dunno. I have the gift all ready for her, but I feel awkward going to a shower for a 16 year old who has no idea who the baby's father is. My girl doesn't really want to be a part of it either, that's why she roped me into going with her, lol. I guess I'll be driving the getaway car if things get crazy.

My (step) niece turned 21 yesterday, so she wants me to go out with her and her people to celebrate on Saturday. I can't stand going to H2O on a Saturday, but I think that's just me getting old. That girl is already a lush, so I might have a hard time keeping up, and I'm no lightweight, lol. My college "throw 'em back" days are behind me, but I can still hold my own.

Sunday, D (hunny) and I will probably go to the last day of the Capital Jazz Fest and chill out. We might cook out and have some people over, but we'll see.

So nothing too much for the weekend, just looking forward to catching up on the zz's that I missed this week. Hope you all have a great weekend and enjoy the hot weather!!