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Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Why??? Vol. 1
I go to the gym at least 4 times a week, and every evening that I'm there I see the same chick doing the same stupid mess. She goes into the locker room and puts on a FULL face of makeup--I'm talking pancake foundation and all. She then proceeds to spend about 45 minutes on the elliptical machine, heads to do some weight training, then onto the treadmill or bike. She sweats like a man, so by the time she's done, her face looks like a Picasso painting with all the color smeared everywhere. She also douses herself in Bur.ber.ry Brit perfume before she begins her workout, and her "scent" wafts all over the gym. A few times she put entirely too much on and I had to end my workout early because the smell gave me a headache.

Call me spoiled or whatever, but I get my nails done every two weeks and get a pedicure once a month. All year, not just in the summer time. The last 3 times that I've been in for a pedicure, this woman has been there with her son who appears to be about 4 or 5 years old--definitely old enough to understand "NO" and "STOP". All 3 times, while the woman was getting her pedicure, her darling son turned on the water in the empty pedicure chairs and started splashing around like he was at home. The nail techs tried to be nice and asked him to stop, but he kept splashing and dumping their products into the water. The mother just said, "Adam, stop it. That's not nice. Those aren't your things." All this, rather than just packing a book and some toys for him or better yet, leaving his azz at home with dad or a babysitter. My mother would have gotten up from the pedicure chair, feet half done and proceeded to whoop my behind in front of everyone if I had tried some crap like that.

I drive to work everyday now. I used to have the option of taking Metro a few days a week, but where we live dictates otherwise. Almost every morning, I encounter atrocious driving from the other people on the road. Now, I'm not going to act like I'm the best driver in the world, cuz hey I make mistakes too, but I'm in a league of my own compared to a few people out there. A lady who lives in the same complex that I do takes the same road to work, so I usually see her at some point during my commute. Every time I see her, she makes the WORST errors. She just changes lanes all willy nilly without looking to see what's in the lane next to her, she will slam on her brakes on the highway if she senses that she's going too much over the speed limit, she'll cross over 4 lanes of traffic at 85 mph just to get to her exit all while having a copy of her novel laid on her steering wheel/lap. I asked her about hre antics once and she said that she really doesn't pay much attention to the other drivers, just what she's doing. Ummm. No. Not a good idea.

Volume 2 coming soon

Monday, July 30, 2007
Victimize Me
This weekend, D and I went out with a few of our friends and ended up having an interesting conversation. One of the couples we were out with were talking about a lady they know who is a single mother raising 5 kids on her own, none of whom have the same father mind you, and she is struggling, so they feel sorry for her and want to help her by buying the kids' school supplies. We definitely know their hearts were in the right place, because lawd knows it's hard out there for a single mama--I was raised by one, so I do know first hand.

But D and one of the other girls (who is a 4th grade teacher) both brought up the same valid point. They wondered why when a woman sleeps around without children, she's a ho' but then if she does the same and has kids by a bunch of men, she's a victim because she's a single mom. In all honesty, I have to wonder the same thing.

I've seen it happen more often than I'm really comfortable with. I'm using one woman in particular to illustrate my point. This girl, who's about 3 years younger than me, started out in the youth choir at church, etc etc but as she grew into a young woman she fell hard from grace. She started sleeping around with people in the church, slept with a few married men, and was seen at the "clinic" being treated for 'that stuff'; basically acting like much less than a lady. The church women had LOTS to say about her--"that child ain't nothing but a hoochie now", "can't nothin' but prayer save her behind now", "both her and her mama should be shamed, with her actin like a slut!", and so on and so on.

She came back to church a few months later with a pregnant belly. The church women were still wary of her, but softened a bit in their words to her. She gave birth and had a hard time financially like most any single parent would. But five months later, she showed up pregnant again. When asked if the babies had the same father, she put her head down in shame. The church women of course stood by her side, allowing her to take comfort in them. Six months after that baby was born, she had an abortion (my mom was her nurse at the office where the procedure was done)--different dude this time. Three and a half months later, back at the same office looking in my mom's face again to have another abortion--different dude. Five months later, back in the SAME office in my mom's face yet again, but this time with a miscarriage--different dude. Seven months later, at the ripe old age of 22, she walks back in church belly pregnant AGAIN. Different Dude. This time a collection was taken up in church to help her buy baby stuff, complete with the woe is me sob story. My mother was speaking to the church women who were sticking up for the girl and explained to them how she came into her office more than twice, and all the women could say was, "She's just a victim of her environment. She doesn't know better."

How is it that she has three babies, and is suddenly a victim of her environment? She was participating in the same behavior as before she became a mother. But she was a ho' then, and is a victim now. The only victims in that situation are her children.

Now don't get me wrong, single parents do have it rough. It's difficult to raise a child with help from no one but yourself. But my sympathy wanes when a woman is voluntarily repeatedly putting herself in that situation. Opinions aside though, the question raised was valid. Why does having a child make a (former?) hoe a victim even when she continues the same behavior patterns?

I wish I had an answer for that. What's your take on it? Get at me in the comments.

Sunday, July 29, 2007
Sunday Scripture
"Curds and honey he shall eat that ye may know to refuse the evil and choose the good"
Isaiah 7:15

Remember to praise Him always through the good and the bad.

Friday, July 27, 2007
Friday Flashback
Do you ever sometimes wonder what happened to your favorite singers? I got to wondering about this group a while back and why they never did another upbeat song. Anyway, it's Boyz II Men, "Motownphilly"

Happy Friday!!

Thursday, July 26, 2007
Adjectives do not make the man
Thanks everyone for all the kind words over the last few days. I'm thankful for each and every one of you and your comments. They've really meant so much. I'm feeling better now, and am getting out of my funk one day at a time, stronger every day.

I have to say though, a lot of you mention that D is a good dude, and I couldn't agree more. But that got me thinking about this whole good dude concept. There's been a lot of "talk" around the blogosphere lately about good dudes and the lack thereof and it's really got me irritated.

I'll probably get blasted for my opinions, but whatever. It is my damn blog after all. Anyway. More often than not, when I ask women what constitutes a "good man", they launch into a litany of adjectives something akin to this:

"He's got to be:
  • tall

  • dark-skinned

  • light-skinned

  • handsome

  • college-educated

  • muscular

  • well-hung

  • financially well-off

  • well-dressed

  • and so on and so on, etc

  • That's great, but where are the personality traits? What about how he treats you and how he makes you feel? What is he about? What causes does he really support? What are his views about God and spirituality? It's not enough to just ask does he go to church. How was he raised? Who raised him? Last time I checked, those things were more important than how muscular he is.

    Too many times I've seen women who basically walk around with a list of adjectives that a man must resemble in order for her to date him. Enter a real good dude who treats her like a queen and does nothing but enhance her life mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. But his adjectives don't match the ones on her list. He's automatically crossed off the list and tossed to the curb. He's put into the category of a "he ain't shit" man, and she continues going around bitching about how there's no good men out there. The good ones that might fit 90% of her adjective list pick up on her shallow, negative, judgemental attitude and dismiss her. So those men become "he ain't shit" men as well--because they don't want her. God forbid someone not find her to be the best woman going, right. God forbid someone think she have an unattractive attitude.

    So finally someone convinces her to go on a date with someone that doesn't quite match her list of required adjectives. Let's say he doesn't have a white-collar job, but is instead a Metro train driver. She likes him okay, but she writes him off as well because he doesn't manage expense accounts at work. "He can't do nothin' for me", she says, trying to take comfort in her list of must-haves.

    But let me tell you, a list of adjectives does not make a man. Rarely will the "one" fit that list perfectly. Yes, please have standards, but be open to the possibiilty. How do I know? Because I was the one with that list. Before I opened myself up to the idea that my good dude may not be a mirror-image of me in terms of career or anything else, I swore that most men "weren't shit" and that very few "could do anything for me". But then I changed my thinking because I realized that trying to find a man that matched my adjective list was preventing me from being a good me so I didn't attract many good dudes to begin with.

    My good dude, D, doesn't really match the list I had in mind. He's not college-educated; he instead went to the Army after high-school and then off to Afghanistan to fight for my freedom. He doesn't wear a suit and tie to work; instead he wears a gun, nightstick, handcuffs, and does his job from a police cruiser. He doesn't have a gold AmEx card; instead he has 2 regular Visa cards and he's the most financially responsible man I know and manages his well. He doesn't have a huge house; instead we have a comfy apartment and is preparing to buy a townhouse. He's nothing that I thought I wanted, but everything that I need and has turned out to be everything that I really want.

    My whole point is, before you start writing men off as no good because they don't fit your perfect little list, take a closer look. The good dude might just be the one you let slip away or the one you're trying to distance yourself from now. Keep your standards, not a list of adjectives. I promise, good will come.

    Monday, July 23, 2007
    My soul hurts today. I've been crying since Saturday and I've just finally been able to get myself together enough to go to work. I, like most people, have always dealt with the little voices of doubt and negativity in my head. But this weekend those voices became deafening, and their volume shattered the glass eggshell that covers my soul.

    For basically my whole life, I've faced and triumphed over a lot of adversity. I never really let myself process a lot of those things, I just stuffed the memory down and kept it moving. But in so doing, the little negative voices moved in. When I was busy in my life, like when I was in school full time and working full time and dancing 6 days a week and still in competitions, I could basically block them out. But when things were calm and less busy, blocking them was not as easy. Somehow I managed to not be knocked down completely and thrown into a life-long chronic depression because of all of that, but I was lucky.

    Right now, my life isn't as busy as it was a few years ago. I'm on summer break from grad school, work is okay, and I have a great drama-free home life with D and my family and friends. So in my quiet days, the negative talk has gotten so loud. And now I have more than enough time and opportunity to really think about the things I've gone through and examine the old bruises to my psyche. And let me tell you, they are many. They've healed over pretty well, but I got the proverbial beat-down harder than I thought. My self-confidence slipped out of my grasp over the years, slow enough that I didn't notice it until it was almost gone. When now, I look at myself and I see a broken glass with cracks in it that no one bothered to have fixed.

    I finally explained it all to D, and he listened and he cried right along with me. Rather than be shaken by my fragility or scared off by my heaving sobs, he held me and told me that it's time for me to be healed. But before I can be repaired, I need to give myself a chance to hurt since I've never really done that before. So he told me to let myself feel the searing pain that I've managed to stuff so far down and cry it out. And it feels good to finally let it all out and stop pretending that I'm not affected. I hid all of that away from most men, because I was afraid they wouldn't know how to deal with it, but I'm lucky this time.

    Sorry if this doesn't make sense to any of you, but just know that I'm hurting, but I'll be alright. The fun will be back soon!

    Friday, July 20, 2007
    Friday Flashback
    Yall know about my undying love for old school Michael Jackson, right? Well, if you didn't, you do now. So here's one of my favorites, just because I can. It's "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough".

    Happy Friday!

    Thursday, July 19, 2007
    I Been Taggededed
    Ms. BkDiva tagged me. It was harder than I expected to think of 8 random azz things about myself, so umm... here goes I guess:

    1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
    2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
    3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
    4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
    5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

    Just The Facts, Ma'am~

    1. When I eat sandwiches, I rip them into little pieces and then eat the pieces. I can't just bite into it. This goes for hamburgers too. The only time I eat a sandwich normally is if it's a sub.

    2. I am deathly afraid of sheep. When I moved in with D, the route I was taking to work had me passing a sheep farm. I had to change that QUICKLY.

    3. It's hard to make me angry, but if you do and you see a tear come out of my eye, go the other way. It's gonna be bad for everyone in my path

    4. At 5'7", I'm the shortest member of my family. My mom is 6'1", my dad is 6'3", my brother is 6'5", etc etc. Even my 12 year old niece is taller than me. I can't reach anything in the upper cabinets at my parents' house, so they have a step stool for me.

    5. I can't sleep a whole night without my raggie doll. It's about 23 years old now and has been worn down so much that all the stuffing is out of the body. I keep it under my pillow.

    6. I can't wear socks that come above my ankles. They have to be those little footie socks, but that little pom pom on the back of some irritates the mess out of me.

    7. I am terrified of dying in a nursing home alone. I made D promise that if I lost all of my faculties when I get old that he'd find another place for me to spend my final days.

    8. I'm taking a Vietnamese language class so I can understand what the people at the nail shop are saying about people.

    I'm not tagging anyone since just about everyone in the blogosphere has done this. If you haven't, feel free to accept the tag and post your randoms.

    Wednesday, July 18, 2007
    Day Off
    I'm taking a blogger day off today. Have a good one!

    Tuesday, July 17, 2007
    Bridesmaid Blues
    Some people like drama too damn much, so when there isn't any to be found they go and create some. Even at their friends' expense.

    I've been engaged for less than a month now, and already people are trying to turn this wedding into some kind of Bridezilla blowup. We haven't set a date for our jaunt down the aisle just yet, let alone ask people to be in the wedding. All we know is that we want a small-ish event since we'll be footing the bill ourselves, and because we're both really low-key people.

    Before the "Yes, I'll marry you" was completely out of my mouth, the phone was ringing and our email inboxes were full.

    Somebody please tell me how it's okay to email someone and ask that you allow them to be your maid of honor or best man. I've gotten 5 different requests from people that all begin something like this:

    "...Tasha, congratulations on getting engaged. I can't wait to see you two as an old married couple. I forgot your fiancé's name, I'll have to look at fac.e.bo.ok again, but he's cute. You're cute too, and I think the wedding will be great! I want to help you plan it!! I have one question, do you think I could be your maid of honor? We've known each other since 1985, so that would be hot to have an old friend in your ceremony. You know, something old something new something borrowed and something blue. Just let me know..."

    Poor D has gotten similar emails, just altered to fit the request to be a best man. What.the.piss? You don't go around soliciting maid of honor and best man invites. Damn. We know who we're going to ask to be in those positions already (and have known for years, but we just haven't asked yet), so please stop!

    When I turned these people down via phone and via email, a few decided to bad mouth us and say they were going to boycott the wedding. Ummm, fine with us...less $$ for us to pay on your plate at the reception! Seriously though, people are trying to turn this into the W.WE main event. Name calling, sending us almost threatning letters and emails. Calling my mama and telling her that I'm a bad daughter. My lawd, what the hell is wrong with folk? Damn, can we get a month to enjoy being engaged before we get to wedding planning?? My goodness, we're not trying to rush this whole process. Shotgun wedding this is not.

    Oh and, we don't need your help planning, cousin Kyren, thanks. Please don't be offended when we turn your offer down. Honey, we saw what you did to your cousin's graduation party, and we would be devastated if the same thing happened to us. Don't bring D's mama into this. Just don't take it there, cuz I will get Bridezilla only if I'm forced into it, and I really don't enjoy being mean.

    Can we just keep this drama free?

    Monday, July 16, 2007
    Customer No Service
    When you go into a fast food restaurant, you don't expect the same level of service that you'd get if you went into a five star place, but you do expect to be treated with some decent level of respect at least.

    D and I went to a Pop.ey.es on Saturday and we were both appalled at what happened there. When we walked in the door, the employees were arguing amongst each other, and continued to do so even after they saw us. The girl who served us was like, "Whatchu want?...Bitch, you better stop talking to me like that or I'mma have to step back and smack the shit out of you". No kind of apology to us for acting like that. We ordered our food and she went back to get the order, still cussin and fussin to her co-worker. She was sliding all over the greasy-azz floor acting like home training was a foreign concept to her.

    While we were waiting for our order, another employee who appeared to be on break came up to the counter talking on her cell phone. We heard part of her conversation and she said, "...Boo, what you just said messed up my whole high". We looked at her crazy and she still kept on talking. She got what she wanted from the counter and proceeded to go outside and smoke her cigarette. Now, I can't stand cigarette smoke, especially around my food, but she was right outside the entrance door (which was propped open) so her smoke wafted into the establishment. In any normal place, the smokers would be made to light up in the back of the building or near the dumpsters as to avoid that kind of mess.

    We waited a good 15 minutes for our food, and watched the employees get into a minor shoving match. D joked and said that if he were in his jurisdiction, he would have arrested them both for assault just to mess with them. Hmmm, wishful thinking I guess. But we finally got our food, and while the girl was ringing us up, she said to another employee, "Kill Yourself. Just go jump off a bridge". What kind of stupid shit is that? And where the hell were their managers?? As we were getting ready to walk out the door, the girl who served us said, "Yall need to leave, cuz I'm sure she's getting on your nerves". I wanted to say so badly, "Noooo honey, you're the one getting on our nerves". But I kept my mouth shut.

    Of course when we got home, I went online and filed a complaint. There was no manager around and of everyone working no one could have been over the age of 21. And if you're wondering, yes they were a bunch of us which disappointed me even further.

    Seriously, is good service that hard to come by these days? Especially from us? I've come to expect shit-tastic service when I'm dealing with customer service people on the phone, mostly because I know they're not even in the country, but from a group of our own youngins? Come on now. I know those employees would have been fumin' mad if they'd been in our shoes, so I don't know what makes them think that acting that way to the people they serve is okay. Is the concept of respect lacking that much in their homes?

    Get at me in the comments, and share some of your horror stories if you'd like.

    Friday, July 13, 2007
    Friday Flashback
    I was talking to my mom last night and she had this playing in the house, and now I can't get it out of my head. Maybe it'll get stuck in your head too :-) It's Prince & The Revolution "When Doves Cry".

    Happy Friday (and happy pay day, lol)! Have a great weekend!!

    Thursday, July 12, 2007
    Prioritize Your Priorities
    When I got home from work last night, I saw one of my neighbors washing his car. That's a weekly occurence, so I didn't think anything of it. But when I got closer, I saw that he was washing a brand new Benz. I was kind of shocked, seeing as his old car was a perfectly good 2001 or 2002 Pathfinder. I asked him what happened to his old car, and he said he just wanted an upgrade. He politely informed me that the new car cost $48,000 and that he's getting new rims and tints on Saturday.

    I'm all for upgrading yourself and your situation, but what bugs me is that we live in an apartment complex and most of us there are either young professional single people or young families. Solidly middle class. This is not a luxury condo village, but rather an average apartment complex with average people. His car doesn't really fit in. But more than that, I'm mad cuz I know he doesn't work and is living in his apartment damn near rent free because he's on Section 8 and got in just before the property management changed ownership and stopped accepting residents in that situation. I also know that he's got 4 kids and most definitely isn't pulling his weight in raising them--he's always singing his own praises because he bought diapers for them.

    I get so angry when I see the same situation played out over and over again in our community. I hate when I see people that have expensive stuff, but nothing to show for it. In serious debt or worse, just so they can say that 'they're still fly'. You know the type-- eating ramen noodles for a month to pay for rims, etc. Or like the song says, "...quarter tank of gas in my new E class..." Why am I looked at stupid when I talk about investing or saving (at least some of) my money rather than buying something I don't need? Why according to too many black folk is bank a cuss word?

    I find it hard to believe that people who have their priorities all effed up really want people to take them seriously. All day they go out of their way to make sure people know that they have this stuff that makes them seem important, but all they're doing is making themselves look foolish. I don't understand how they can get mad when the general public gives them the proverbial side-eye.

    I wish I had a better explanantion as to why this phenomenon continues to haunt our people so badly, but I don't. I wish I knew what I could do to change it. *sigh* What do you all think?

    Wednesday, July 11, 2007
    Open Letter to My Co-Workers
    Dear Co-Workers,

    It's been very nerve-racking interesting working with you all. Most of you are really great people and seem like you're on a good career and personal path. Much respect to you. However, some of you act like you don't know your own ass from a hole in the wall. Please, take what I'm going to say and consider it carefully because I'm not the only one thinking these things, I'm just the only one to call you out. Trust me, this is done with the best of intentions.

    Ms. Too Cute, you need to revamp your approach to everything. No one gives a good gotdamn that you're lightskinned. Half black and half Puerto Rican. Good for you. I'm glad you are self confident, but you don't need to rip other people apart to boost your own self esteem. To be quite honest, you're really not that cute. Men only talk to you because your ass is wider than your body and you force it into clothing that's unnecessarily tight. Doing so causes your posterior to look like a painfully bloated stuffed sausage. I've actually heard the dudes at work talk TERRIBLE about you because you've f**ked so many of them. One even said, "Damn, she has the worst hook nose I've ever seen and she has a witch wart on it. Not sexy. I only fucked her because she's lightskinned with a big booty and it was easy game". Ma, set a better example for your young daughter.

    Ghettorella, girrrrl. I can't believe your man cheated on you with your mama. That's so triflin. I know you didn't tell me any of that, but I heard your conversations because you talk so.damn.loud. I can hear everything you talk about down to what you're going to do to your boo when you get home. And the gum popping. *sigh*. And the hotplate you brought in to warm up your greens for lunch, that was just pushing it over the edge. You know it doesn't have to be this way right? Black people can, and continue to do better every day. You can escape the ghetto mentality and be free. Take a class or two and maybe you won't struggle with your data entry skills anymore and be able to move up the corporate ladder so you can provide for your 5 kids.

    Holly Roller, I'mma need you to stop preaching at people that way. You can't just be telling everyone that they're going to hell because they did something you don't like. Don't tell me I'm living in sin because I engage in *monogamous* premarital sex and live with my guy when you stepped out on your husband and f**ked your pastor. Oh oh oh, AND you got pregnant by said pastor and had an abortion? Yeah girl, I heard about you. I know some of your people outside of work and they let me know 'bout you. And the scripture says "Jesus Wept" not "Jesus Had Cried". I don't care which translation of the Good Book you look in.

    The rest of yall, grow the hell up. We are grown azz people forced to work together. There really is no reason to hate on people because they have nicer shoes than you or because she chose to dress up that day. The talking about people supposedly behind their back is not attractive. It makes you look like you're stuck in 7th grade. Get over yourselves. I don't like you because you act younger than my niece in Kindergarten, not because you have long hair. Don't take it there with me. It's a cubicle plantation, not the club. Please dress accordingly. The muffin top hanging over the waistband of your pants is interfering with my ability to eat my real muffin. Cover that shyt up.

    Everyday showers are mandatory. If you think you stink, you do. Just shower either before you go to bed or when you get up in the morning. It's not that hard. Four little sylables can help you out: De-od-or-ant.

    Supervisors are supposed to be there to supervise, not have sex with their subordinates at lunch. That's all I can say about that.

    Again, co-workers you make my professional life more interesting than I ever thought possible. It is my hope that we can overcome these little difficulties and have a fruitful working relationship.



    Tuesday, July 10, 2007
    Public Service Announcement
    The following is a public service announcement. It may or may not apply to you.

    Disciplining your children is the right thing to do. I don't care what method of discipline you use (just don't beat up on the kids please), but make sure it is effective and you do it consistently.

    Some of your children may as well have been extras in "The Children of the Corn". Does the name Damien mean anything to you? Yes, your children. Your adorable little progeny can make Satan himself say "damn, you got some bad azz kids".

    There was no need for little Billy to be rummaging around in my shopping cart at the grocery store yesterday. When I asked him to stop, he looked at me like I was a mosquito annoying him. He's too young to be able to give that look to people. Then he had the nerve to take MY stuff out of MY cart and put it on the floor. I got rude then, and he just looked at me like "ok, aaannndd?". That's not cute, people. His azz needs some kind of discipline. When I was that age, my mother had put the fear of God and grown people in my heart so when I did something f**ked up and a grown person gave me that look, it was over. Little Tasha acted right. That's what proper discipline does. Remember, you're his parents, not his playdates.

    A few weeks ago, at the mall, your wonderful kind hearted teenage daughter, Emily (I saw her name on her shirt), got in my way and I said "excuse me". She really shouldn't have said "Bitch, who you talkin' to like that? I'm not moving". I know, she's exerting her independence by saying that, right? Is that what your little psychology "how to raise your kids" book says? Look, I don't give a damn about a book. A rusty azz teenager should know by now that you don't talk to adult people like that. After all, we sign her lil measly paycheck from that part-time job you let her get. If you'd disciplined her azz instead of trying to be her best gotdamned friend her whole life, I wouldn't be telling you this right now. And maybe she wouldn't be driving your car without your permission right now. Yeah, I overheard her talking to her friends about that.

    Oh, and don't forget your super college graduate son, Steven. He's older than me and is moving back home because he didn't feel like finding a job after graduation and he thinks his landlord is mad at him. He borrowed your Benz and totalled it when he got behind the wheel after a few too many Martinis, but he didn't say sorry. I know you think that he was too shocked to show any remorse, but he really doesn't give a damn because he knows that he will face no repercussions from you. Oh, and he also killed my childhood best friend in that crash. I know it might seem like he's so torn up, but he was laughing at her funeral because he knew that he was going to happy hour that night. You'd make sure to protect him from any legal troubles. After all, that's your boy, and what does discipline have to do with anything right?

    Allow me to end my PSA with this: Discipline your kids, or I might have to. I don't have a problem cussing your dear darling children out and telling them about themselves. Nor do I have a problem embarassing a grown azz man who had no boundaries growing up. Oh, and tell little Billy if he puts his lil fat fingers in my shopping cart again that Christmas will be cancelled.

    **Lawd, kids irritate the hell out of me sometimes!**

    Monday, July 09, 2007
    The Homefront
    D and I didn't get back from NY until 11 last night, so him and I both were looking like creatures from the undead this morning. We had a better time than expected, but we're glad to be back. It is always nice to go home though.

    On the way up there, we narrowly avoided getting run off the road by a drunk driver. We were in Delaware on 95-N, when some drunk fool came over into our lane without looking to see if there were cars over there. If it weren't for the space near the guardrail, we would have been smashed into oblivion. We knew he was drunk because we saw the empty bud cans in his backseat once we were able to regroup and get past him. We called the state police and gave the tag #, but that was really the best we could do.

    We got to my mom's around 3AM and hit the bed hard. This isn't the first time he's been home home with me, but we still laughed about the two of us sleeping in my childhood bedroom. The next morning, he came with me while I got my hair re-braided. He made it the whole 5 hours without complaint, and even garnered a bunch of compliments and a discount from the people doing my hair.

    After that, I took him around to meet some more of my home crew, and we drove around to see what's changed over the years. We caught up with a few people and had some laughs and drinks, and all was pretty nice. We ran into my ex, who was looking completely to' up, and dude actually had the nerve to say, "Well, next time you come home I'mma be looking better. I'mma have to step up my game cuz you went to DC and came back all bougie". WTF dude!? D was choking laughing and handed dude a napkin and told him to start with wiping the sweat off his forehead cuz we don't do shiny in the Urrea. I.was.finished. LOL

    The rest of the weekend, we got spoiled by my parents and enjoyed lots of mom-cooking. She took us shopping and let us feel like guests in her house rather than grown kids home to visit. Of course all her friends had to stop by to get a good look at D to make sure I'm not making some horrendous life-mistake with him. He got the nosy middle aged woman seal of approval all the way around. Yay, I guess.

    The ride home was a nightmare though. We got caught in so much traffic and again almost died on the road. A deer walked out of the woods onto the highway with all the cars doing 70-75 mph. The car in front of us just missed hitting it, but the car next to it wasn't so lucky, so Bambi got f**ked up. ***warning, nasty stuff*** The head bounced off of the top of our car and its innards went flying. We pulled over to check on the guy who hit the animal, and thank God he was okay. His car wasn't too jacked up aside from some side dents and a broken tail light. He was shaken up but able to drive off. Our car was fine, but we had to get it washed obviously because it was hot and we didn't want baked on Bambi stuck to the paint. Gruesome, but it could have been MUCH worse, so we were thanking Him all the way home.

    It was a great lil getaway, and I hope you all enjoyed your weekend as well. The cubicle plantation is negatively affecting my soul today...I think happy hour may be in order this evening.

    Friday, July 06, 2007
    Fake the Funk Friday
    It's Friday, and I'll be at work fakin the funk pretending to be working like a field slave. As soon as I get out of work, D and I are on the road. I'm dragging him to NY to see my mom and to get my braids re-done. I'd get them done in DC, but the only recommendation people give is "The Africans on Georgia Ave". There are 900 different braid places on this one road alone, I need more specifics like maybe the address or how bout a phone number!? But I digress.

    It'll be nice to go home for a little while and see some of my people that I haven't seen since Christmas and maybe hit up a cookout or two. The weather today seems great for travelling and BBQ, so I dug up DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince/Will Smith's "Summertime":

    Happy Friday, have a great weekend!

    Thursday, July 05, 2007
    Can't Get Right
    I was glad to have yesterday off, but having a holiday tossed in the middle of the week like that kinda threw me off. I'm running all backwards today and just can't seem to get right at all.

    I woke up this morning and getting out of bed I managed to trip over my own feet and land face first on the floor. Thank God I wasn't wearing my glasses at the time. Then, off to the shower and I manage to trip stepping in the tub and busted my ass "Honey I've fallen and I can't get up" style. My apologies to the dog. I'm sorry for landing on you.

    I managed to make it to the car without much incident, but the car had other plans for me. Me, being who I am, of course set the panic alarm off on the car and had too much stuff in my hands to be able to turn it off quickly. Now, I leave before most of the other people in the complex so of course I saw people looking out their windows at me like I'm a criminal or something. Finally I got the damn thing to shut up and got in the car. Like a fool, I stuck my house keys in the ignition and damn near broke the key trying to get it out.

    Got to work in one piece, but already jacked up the coffee machine and had to call IT to get me back into my computer since I locked myself out. Yay Tasha for screwing up passwords!!

    I don't know, I'm probably bringing all this on myself since I know Friday is tomorrow and that means the weekend is almost here. I'm completely non-productive, unless you count doing the Sudoku puzzles online as work, lol. Ahh well, can't complain too much...I'm blessed to be alive and working and to have the things I have.

    Cliché of the day: Love, Peace, and Hairgrease yall!

    Wednesday, July 04, 2007
    Happy July 4th!!

    It's thunderstorming and raining buckets in my neck of the woods, so I'm pretty sure that the fireworks are off for tonight, but I'm still going to cookout and throw a few back with my people. I'll be on grill duty for a while, but then it's time to chill, lol.

    Hope you all have a safe and happy 4th! If you're in the Bmore or DC area, it's probably raining so if you're going to the fireworks, bring an umbrella.

    Tuesday, July 03, 2007
    Please Warn Me...
    ...if you have a nasty azz house.

    I spent a good percentage of my younger days in the hood, so I'm no stranger to roaches and what not (NO, they were not in my house). But damn, just because I have experienced it in my past life, doesn't mean you can just sneak that on me. You still need to let somebody know before they come into your home that you have roaches so big they pay rent. Seriously.

    I dropped my girl off at her place, which she just moved into with her man. She invited me in for a drink, and I made that bad move and assumed that her house was of reasonable cleanliness. I guess I just figured if you invite someone in, that things must be okay inside. Ummm, no. Hell no. Hell to the nawl even.

    I walked in the door and it looked like Hurricane What the Fuck and Tropical Depression Holy Shit had just rolled through there. Clothes and shoes everywhere. I saw a plate of something that kind of resembled the remnants of greens and chicken on the arm of the sofa. There was a slight aroma of feet wafting through the air that made me throw up in my mouth a little. I get a little queasy just thinking about it. *shudder*. This girl is so clean and neat with everything else in her life, I can't believe that she actually moved into this mess, and that she is actually okay with it. I guess love is a sonofabitch, cuz there would have to be lots of it for me to live in that trash.

    I wasn't trying to stay long enough to have a drink because as soon as I cleared off some space to sit on the green sofa (it's grey now, ewwww) I saw two of the biggest roaches ever do the slow crawl up the wall. Some big behemoth mofos that looked like they were on anabolic steroids or some shit. I was afraid to smoosh them cuz I know they would have just turned around and tried to cuss me out for interrupting their commute home. I couldn't bring myself to sit down, so I just stood around pretending like I was looking at the art on the wall--which consisted of nothing more than a Scarface poster and one of those "I Have a Dream" MLK, Jr. posters. I looked down at my feet cuz I caught the sight of something moving near my foot, and of course it was a big azz centipede. I 'bout screamed for Jesus then and did the quick one-two step all over that thing.

    Her: "Heh heh, sorry I know it's a lil messy in here right now"

    Me: (to myself- "A little messy? Are you looking at the same mess I'm looking at?") "It's okay"

    Her: "What did you want to drink?"

    Me: "I'll take a bottled water to go. I gotta get to the gym"

    I wasn't about to sit my behind down and indulge. Nah son. I was not trying to have the cast of "Joe's Apartment" invite me to play Spades with them. From the look in her face, I could tell she understood where I was coming from and tried to laugh it off.

    Her: "Ok Tash, I'll call you on Wednesday to see if you want to do something"

    I'm not sure I can do that now. I'mma have to spray her azz with Raid, Black Flag, and Off before she comes near me again. And her man, the original owner of the mess...he's just denied period. No access to my house, my car, my table at Starbucks. I know a creepy crawly is up in her clothing somewhere, and I will NOT have one of them fall off of her and into my car or my house. I snatched that water and ran the hell out the door. I shook myself off as best I could and then went to the car wash to have my interior vacuumed out. As soon as I got home, I made a beeline for the shower and tossed my clothes in the wash.

    I'm still itchy thinking about that hot azz mess. Have yall ever experienced anything like that?? Get at me in the comments

    Monday, July 02, 2007
    Weekend Wrap Up
    I'm so offended that it's Monday again and I'm back in the corprate cubicle trying to look and be important, when I could be outside enjoying what was supposed to be my vacation. Damned senior level employees snatched up all the good vacation days, hmph. I want to go back to my weekend. BOOOOO. Ok, I'm done whining now.

    My weekend was nice, and the weather was soooo beautiful. D and I actually got to spend the whole weekend together for once. I absolutely hate his schedule!! But I guess that's the life of a cop. BOOOO. Damn, I need to work on sounding more grateful. Anyhoo, we went to dinner and he kept saying, "Do you know what tomorrow is?". I was ready to stomp my feet like a two year old and tell him to 'Gimme my ring!!'. But I just played along.

    Saturday we went to a cookout a few of my friends were having and had some less than yummy grilled food. I mean, how do you tell the hostess that you don't want anymore food because the burgers taste like sautéed tractor tires? Her man, who did the cooking, went on and on and on and on about how good his cooking was, but me and D had to hit CVS for some Pepto Bismol after we left. All I could think was the part of 'Rapper's Delight' that goes "...you ever went over your friend's house to eat and the food just ain't no good...."

    Afterwards, we drove around for a little while and we pulled over and he gave me my ring. YAY!! I would go into more details, cuz it's much better than it sounds, but he wants to do that himself. He'll be doing a guest spot this week so he can explain it in his own words. He doesn't even read this blog, but he wants his side of the story out there. Cute.

    So skip to Sunday. We went looking seriously at townhouses again, cuz we just found out that our rent is going up and will be about the equivalent of what our mortgage would be for a house in our price range. We found one that we absolutely love, and we're getting started on the paperwork now. I'm skurred and excited all at the same time. So much is going on in my life right now and I don't know what end is up, but I'm enjoying it.

    The rest of the day we just chilled and had dinner outside. Nothing special, but those are the best days.

    Hope yall had a good weekend!