the life i live

Black History Month Sale

2007-02-13T07:50:00.000-05:00

Shoprite, a grocery store chain in the northeast, advertised their black history month sale in the sunday fliers. At first I thought my sister was joking. Here's whats on sale this week:

Cola (not Coke or Pepsi)
Glory greens
fruity pebbles
bacon
pork chops
ham
sausage
bologna
chicken nuggets
buffalo wings
honey buns
carrot cake
tampico (the ghetto sunny d)
coco butter products
diapers
smelts

IF-NO-RANT!!!! They killed me with the coco butter and the honey buns. I would have sent you guys the link but they managed to exclude that page of the flier on their website, and have inserted the Valentine's Day special in its place.

The Stench of Ass

2007-01-22T13:06:00.000-05:00

BBTF called a meeting today which was held in this tiny ass old school conference room; so it was me, Chinadude, BBTF and four other random people. BBTF is yackin off and all of a sudden we hear someone's stomach rumble. Then Chinadude in his broken english says, "Scuse me." This dude farted something serious. All of a sudden the tiny conference room had permeated with the stench of ass. I tried hard to control my laughter which ended up turning in to an uncontrollable smirk. Fcukin disgusting.

IG-NO-RANT

2007-01-18T15:39:00.000-05:00

I told you the people i work with are stupid. In my office we deal with a lot of different international accounts, which means we have telephone meetings with people from all over the world. So i overhear dude next to me on the phone saying, "Hi where are you calling in from?..........India? Really, wow?!?!?! That's weird because I can understand you."

IG-NO-RANT!!! Funny but ignorant.

And then I overheard my white american supervisor talkin to Chinadude with a Chinese accent again.

These people kill me.

i'm in a funk

2007-01-16T13:55:00.000-05:00

i'm in a funk right now so don't ask where i've been. i'm having a whoa is me moment. anyway happy new year. and with that new year comes new responsibilities and new things to accomplish. some tougher than others. here's a list of what 2007 has in store for me:

1. Grad School
2. Auntie
3. Move out of casa de la ’Rents & Buy a condo

1. Grad School- i got in. masters in communications. the job is paying for it 100% in a major that is not job related. get the feeling my boss is not too supportive. BBTF asked me to travel to Cali the week of my first class. he sends me an email from italy asking me if the week of jan 22 is a good week for me to travel.

Email Convo

Subject: Visit to California week of 22 January
BBTF: Are you ok to do this? I'd like for you to be out there to work the presentation with them.
Me: I start school that week. My class is on Tuesdays. With the length of time it takes to get to California I will probably only be able to be there on Thursday and part of the day Friday.
BBTF: Can you miss the class?
Me: I don't think its appropriate to miss the first day of class.
BBTF: Missing class due to work happens all the time, school anticipates this with adult education...

Eff that BooBoo!!!!!
(whenever he wants me to travel he always asks if it fits into my personal schedule, in this case i tell him it doesnt fit, and he basically tells me to disregard my obligation. as an employee i realize that there will be times i will have to miss class because of work but i feel like i should never be asked to miss the first class, and it should never be up for debate. don't you ask if i'm ok with something and i tell you i'm not, and then try to rearrange my personal schedule. if that was the case, don't ask if it fits into my personal schedule.)

anyway i won. i'm going to class that week and i'm going to Cali on wednesday to friday.

2. Auntie Ash: it'll be here around the corner. my niece will be born end of march. i have mixed emotions, excited, nervous, resentful, overjoyed, jealous, motivated. i’m excited to be an aunt, i will spoil that little girl rotten, i want her to be a prissy dramatic little girly girl like me. I’m nervous and scared something might go wrong with the pregnancy or the delivery, i pray that she is a healthy baby and the delivery is smooth. Even though its nothing I could have prevented and everything happens for a reason, I’m mad at my sister for getting pregnant, leaving school and moving home. I’m mad she’ll never have the same college experience I had and she’ll never get to experience being young. She’ll be pregnant when she turns 21. I’m overjoyed that there will be a little bundle of joy running around soon, and hope that she and i can be as close as me and my favorite aunt. I’m jealous that my sister asked MY friend to be her baby’s godmother. But what does a godmother really do? I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw mine. She hasn’t been around in the past 22 years. But my aunt, I talk to her all the time. Ok so I feel a little better about that. The one thing I don’t like about said godmother is that she is extremely bossy and is taking over everything. She took over the baby registry, she’s taking over decorating the baby’s room, and she’s taking over the plans for the shower. I’m annoyed. She comes up with all of these bright ideas without asking the baby’s mother. Now comes the motivated part, this new baby is getting me kicked out of the house. If she weren’t on her way I’d probably be complacent and drag my feet on moving out.

3. Move out of casa de la ’Rents & Buy a condo: I guess I have no other choice. Actually I started my condo search this past summer. But I realized I couldn’t afford to buy a place, pay utilities and furnish it. My parents said that that was a good idea, not to rush and save more money for another year. My father told me to put my money in a certificate of deposit (CD) and gain more interest. Therefore I cannot touch the money until April 7th. A few weeks after that we found out my sister is pregnant and was moving home. On another note my mother is seriously menopausal and is acting crazy. Since my sister moved home she threatened to kick both of us out for no reason, she told us we needed to grow up and get out and had 30 days to do it. She knew about my CD. Super dad saved us from the crazy woman and told us we weren’t going anywhere. Lately Crazy has been saying some off the wall shit, my unsaid new years resolution is to stop fighting with her and just ignore her craziness. If I participate I will probably catch whatever she has. First she pissed me off when she told me I couldn’t cook. I swear she eats whatever I make, and then months later when we discuss preparing it again and she either says it wasn’t that good or I just can’t cook. That’s annoying. And besides that she makes nasty comments about me and the bf’s relationship any chance she gets. So for the past couple of weeks my conversation with her has been limited until this past weekend. She said some hurtful and rude shit. My sister wants a cupcake tree for her shower, so we’ve been practicing our cupcaking skills. I made frosting with MY own ingredients. Crazy thought I made too much. Yelled about it as soon as she walking in the door on Friday and kept yelling about it on Saturday. She told me that I need to hurry up and move out and learn how to cook for one person. She carried on and on for a long time and kept talking about how I needed to hurry up and move. She left and came back yelling about the baby’s furniture is coming, the carpet man is coming next week, and my father is going to be painting, and they’d be temporarily moving my sister’s stuff in the basement (where I live, I have a room, basement is big enough for her stuff) and what have I done about finding a place to live? To myself, “why is she tripping? Does she realize realistically I cannot move until like May? Crazy! And am I such a bad person? Am I a lazy mooch with no job. Shit I have 2 jobs, I’m about to go to school, and I’m never home.) At that point I decide all communication with her will cease any conversations about my living arrangements will be had with my dad. All of this because of some extra frosting. My question is, is she really mad at me, or is she really mad at my sister? Why are they the best of friends, and I’m the outcast. The outcast with a degree, working on a second and has two jobs. What did I do wrong? Don’t get me wrong, my sister is doing her thing, she has a job too, and works more than 40 hrs a week. I don’t suggest my mother put my sister out, nor do I suggest her to be crazy and rude to my sister either. My suggestion to her is to be easy, and get medicated. Stop focusing your frustration on me. Past decisions are out of our hands; this life was meant to be. With that said, it’s my time to move out. If I could do it sooner believe me I would.

And that’s why I’ve been in a funk. I don’t like change.

How Embarrassing

2006-12-07T10:55:00.000-05:00

I'm at work on a conference call and my VP stops in to tell me to stop by when I'm finished. After I finish my call I grab my note pad, talk to BBTF about what VP could possibly want to talk about. He briefs me and off I go, prepared to discuss cost escalation and on time deliveries. I get in and VP says, " You need to pay your corporate credit card bill. Its 60 days late. If you don't pay they're shutting it off. It's only $90. That's all," and he dismisses me. How embarrassing is that? I completely forgot to pay the bill, and another notice just came two days ago. Honestly I don't know what its for, it just says that I'm late to paying $93.72. I'm sure its from my trip to Italy. I did buy those plug transformer thingies that I forgot to expense, and never used. Tried to return it and they wont give me my money back because the receipt is older than 60 days. I suppose I could expense it now but there is still $40 unaccounted for. Who knows, they must have rejected something on my expense report so that fcuked up my bill and now I owe out of pocket. And I'm probably effin up my credit by having $90 outstanding. I pay my personal credit card on time all the time and last time I cheked I had outstanding credit. FCUK!

My Bling Bling™ Barbie

2006-11-30T13:11:00.000-05:00

Ri.damn.diculous, the only reason why I came across these is because I was trying to find a Disney Princess Stylin' Fun Head to donate to the Salvation Army. I picked it off of the Angel tree. It comes in Jasmine and Ariel. I'll go with Jasmine because in reality she's a princess of color. Disney thinks she white.

Look at this one. Why are her lips white? Why do these dolls have to look so Ghetto-fabulous

And why are Becky's lips so big, lookin like Jessica Simpson in this bitch:

And FeFe is extra thickums with her side part. Get it girl!

Sasha, she ain't nothin but a hoochie mama.

RED

2006-11-30T10:54:00.000-05:00

Let me tell you this. I work with a bunch of idiots. I’ve gotten to the point where I keep to myself and try to accomplish what they pay me to do. Notice I said try. I don’t even talk to these people anymore because they are so stupid. Anyway I arrived at work around 7:30 am and notice that there is a meeting on my calendar for 8:30 that wasn’t there before I departed yesterday. So 8:27 rolls around and my boss stops by to say in a white man sarcastic tone, “You excited about the meeting this morning?” Sarcastic because he really can’t stand the woman who called the meeting, but had he not invited her it meddle in our business we wouldn’t be in this situation. He doesn’t like her because she’s trying to help us, since we’re all new to the organization and are completely clueless, and she makes it her business to point out all of his flaws on a regular basis. He is stubborn, and takes everything work related so lightly. This lady is queen of sarcasm and annoyance. Let’s call her Red, because she has this bright dyed Annie red hair. Red actually annoys the shit out of me but I know her intentions are good, so I don’t really let her bother me too much. So anyway I respond back to BBTF letting him know in the driest tone possible, that no I’m not excited. I barely even looked at the man because I was in the middle of trying to do my job. So then BBTF tells me he’s on his way to conference room to set up the call because Red (the one who called the meeting) is running late. With knowing that, I decide to take my time. Upon my 5 minute late arrival, Red is not in the room, but I hear her ass on the speaker phone. The bitch called in from her mobile, and says she’s about to order her coffee. Oh hell no. This woman is late because she’s at Starbucks??? You run late because your kid missed the bus, or because you were in an accident or your house caught on fire. You’re not late because you’re ordering a damn tall.venti.mocha.chai.gingerbread.frappaccino.latte.extra.hot.with.a.shot.of.vanilla.espresso .with.soy.milk. I don’t want to hear that shit because I missed breakfast because I was running to your damn meeting, but you’re out having a continental breakfast while we’re all sitting around the conference table starving. And the thing that got me is that she thought that shit was funny. Haha, I’m ordering my coffee, Starbucks should deliver. Too bad you guys can’t have any. Nananana booboo. I swear she is like a child. Her work ethic is piss poor. Last week she was telling me that she works from home on Tuesdays and to call her if I needed help with anything. But she says don’t until after 12 because she had a doctor’s appointment and a nail appointment. Well bitch that’s not working from home, that running errands. Another time she said that she couldn’t travel on business on whatever day it was because she couldn’t miss Halloween. Bitch you’re a grown ass woman. And then she told me about another time that she couldn’t travel because it was her birthday WEEK, and she had a date that she couldn’t cancel. Are you fcuking serious. Don’t tell people at work that kinda shit. On the conference call this morning she said she found a cure for wrinkles, its called weight gain. Really bitch, are you a comedian now. Because that type of joking around is not appropriate for side conversation in a damn conference call. Don’t waste my time when I could be trying work/blogging.

My Day Off

2006-11-21T09:41:00.000-05:00

So last week I discovered that I had 5 vacations days left that I needed to take before the end of the year. Plus I already get the last week of the year off because my company shuts down. With 6 weeks of work left I needed to decide when I was going to throw in these vacation days. So I took last Friday off, and I’ll take this Wednesday off, and figure the rest out later.

So back to last Friday. I woke up early to go to the gym by 7am. So I got my little work out on. Walked on the treadmill with my weights, listened to my boy Robin, did the elliptical machine and then 15 minutes of abs and I’m out by 8. Go home take a shower and get dressed. I have to be at the elementary school by 9:30 to tutor my little friend in Reading. I volunteer with this program that my company sponsors called Power to Read. So I do that for an hour, and now I’m craving crab cakes. To myself, “Excellent idea, your mother is having happy hour tonight, so let’s make crab cakes. But you’ve got a full afternoon planned, so you better get your ingredients now.” So I run to the fish market to get some crabmeat, and then to the grocery store to get some parsley and Dijon mustard. (Come to the Record Dish to get the recipe). At this time (11am) I should be on my way to the bf’s house (he took a half day so he could take me to the movies at 1:05) but he calls to say he hasn’t left work yet and he’ll be home in 30. Perfect! So I run home with the purpose of putting the crab in the fridge but decide that the recipe is pretty easy so let’s make it now. That was simple! So put that in the fridge and what do I see, the leftover tacos that I made for dinner last night. Boyfriend loves tacos, so I packed him a lunch and off I went. Got to his house at 12, ate tacos, and to the movies we go. I decided that it wouldn’t be a movie without candy, so I stopped at the convenient store asking him if he’d like anything while I was in there, he said no. As soon as I get back in the car with my skittles and pull out, this fool says, “I think I want some potato chips.” I say, “Ha! I don’t think you do. I asked if you wanted something and you said no. Which means while you were sitting in the car, while I was in the store, you were contemplating whether you wanted some chips but you sat there and didn’t get up. So you didn’t want them that bad.” So then he says, “Cant you stop right here at the gas station to get some chips.” “Hell no, I cant stop. I believe I asked your ass if you wanted something, and you said NO. So now that we’ve pulled out of the driveway, you change your mind. You knew when you saw me walk out of the store that you want some chips, which means you knew that when you were sitting there looking at me through the door when I was at the register. So just for that, no I cant stop. If there is something in walking distance from the movies perhaps you can walk your happy ass to get some chips but this car will not stop for some damn chips.” BF, “Don’t you think that’s kinda mean?” Me, “Don’t you think you were stupid for not saying you wanted chips when I asked?” Moving on. Get to the movies for the 1:05, and this fool spends $8 on a small popcorn and a medium Pepsi. Could have gotten chips for $0.99. Oh well, learn how to make a damn decision. We went to see Borat. I could have passed on that. That movie was not funny to me. After the movie he wanted to take me for a walk on the water, so we held hands and walked for a total of 6 minutes and then we went to Marshall’s. He needed some sweaters, and I found 2 ties that I wanted him to have. We went back to his house and watched the Game Show Network, an old episode of the Match Game was on. And then it was 4pm so I had to go so I could make it to my 4:30 hair appointment. Damn I wish I was at work that day. My job is a minute away from the shop. As soon as I got in the car, my hairdresser called to say she was already at the shop and for me to come down now. Heffa wants to be early for once. Well since I was at BF’s house, it was gonna take me 30 minutes to get there. Damn Damn Damn. I hate getting my hair done on Fridays. My day is Thursday. But ol girl decided that she wanted to go on vacation this week for Thanksgiving, so she wont be here to do my hair, so she said to get it done later in the week so it would last a little longer. Bah! Well I got there at 4:30, she had already started working on 2 heads, and there was one more person in front of me waiting. FCUK did she tell everyone she was in early. Good thing I made those crab cakes already, because I’m gonna make it to the happy hour just in time to throw them in the frying pan. She was working extra slow today, so you know I had an attitude. I was in there until 7. Now I had to run to gymnastics to pick up my check. And then I’m finally home by 7:30 to fry up my crab cakes, and they were bangin, all they needed was some sauce. And then for the rest of the night we sat up eating and drinking. And that concludes my day off.

Lady Glancer

2006-11-15T12:59:00.000-05:00

I am officially changing my name to Lady Glancer. (Said with a proper accent.) This right is here is the funniest shit I’ve heard in a minute. The funniest pick up ever. Proceed…………………

Last night I went to The Russell, black owned chic little loungey bar. Went with the parents and two friends. We’re chatting it up, having drinks and dessert, when we’re politely interrupted by a well rehearsed live commercial by an artsy poetic snaggle toothed gentleman. In a rhymey, confident and well poised nature he goes on to promote, “At the Russell” presents “Love Jones @ The Russell” Monday nights at The Russell. I’m Shaboo and I am one of the poets on Monday nights at The Russell.” So my big mouth friend opens her mouth and says, “since you’re a poet, why don’t you do a poem for us.” Nervous about being put on the spot, somehow Shaboo was able to pull something out of his ass. He says, “this is one of my favorites,” and proceeds to go on for about 5 minutes straight about God knows what. I knew if I looked around and made eye contact with my family it would have been over. Unstoppable laughter would have broken out. But instead everyone sat there with a blank stare, wondering when this man would shut up. At one point my mother looked like she would fall asleep. So here it is, the part where I woke up, at the conclusion of this impromptu performance, the man goes around the table asking everyone their name, then he says, “I have hand written an invitation for you to come by on Monday nights for Love Jones at The Russell. I think I’m going to give it to the one here that admires the architecture, I couldn’t help but notice how you were admiring the architecture around here, or was it me that you were glancing at? Here you go Lady Glancer.” This snaggle tooth fool was talking to me. He just called me Lady Glancer. He walked over and handed me a piece of paper with the info about Love Jones and walked away. Hilarious, everyone was crackin the hell up.

So when we’re about to leave, Shaboo attacks me at the door, and the family left me in there alone with him.

Shaboo: So Lady Glancer. You’re a mystery to me. Your eyes are the mysterious depths to your soul, blah blah blah something something something, like the mountains of Kilimanjaro in Africa blah blah blah………….
Me: …..blank stare……….
Shaboo: What do you say to that?
Me: I don’t know, what do you say to that?
Shaboo: You don’t know what to say huh? Say, let me get your beeper number, your cell, your myspace…..
Me: Umm (trying to be polite) I don’t think I would say that.
Shaboo: As you can see, I’m pretty forward.
Me: I can see.
Shaboo: Well you can inquire about me further via the internet, I left my email address on the back of that piece of paper. Do you still have it?
Me: uh, yeah (I’m not gonna use it)
Shaboo: Well it was nice to meet you Lady Glancer, take care.
Me: Ok, bye.

I get in the car, and look at this invite. Ol dude really did leave his email address. He had intentions when he came over to the table. Dude already knew he was gonna make moves. So get this, dude’s email is something African @2egypt.com. Although he seemed to be very intelligent, well poised, and confident, he was a little too eclectic from my taste. Stace I don’t know your type but I feel like you might like him. He’s an artist and he seemed kinda Delanoish to me.

Said Friend

2006-11-14T15:09:00.000-05:00

Let’s say a friend, ok boyfriend, talks to you about someone, ok your friend, male or female, ok male, and says that he heard from a third party that said friend is "wild" and that 3rd party wouldn’t be surprised if said friend is trying to holler at you (me). Now what if this information is false, and said friend gave up on hollering at you 5 years ago when you(I) shut him down and has been dating another chick since then, but you (I) have still maintained a friendship that you (I) value very highly. Is it wrong for you (me) to share this information with said friend.

If someone, no matter who, boyfriend or not, says or hears something untrue about one of my friends, male or female, I think it is my duty as a good friend who values the friendship, to share this information with them. I feel like they need to know what is being said about them.

If your significant other tells you something that you find to be untrue about one of your friends of the opposite sex or the same sex for that matter, would it be wrong to share it with your friend? And never once did your significant other say this info was confidential. But you being the honest person that you are, tell sig. oth. that you spoke with friend of opposite sex, and told them about what was said. As a true friend, I feel it is my duty to tell you what people are saying about you, regardless of who told me. Why is that wrong? Well I got in trouble for running my mouth. Boyfriend is jealous of said friend.

I went to the gym

2006-11-14T11:54:00.000-05:00

So I'm that girl. The one who gets a boyfriend and stops going to the gym. I've been dating dude for almost 5 months now, I think I've been to the gym a total of 6 times since we met. A year ago that would have been the amount of times I had gone in one week. Growing up, I was always involved in gymnastics and dance, so I was always slim. So I never had to do any extra working out. Then I graduated college and it wasn't until I had been home for almost two years to realize that I was going to have to start working out to maintain my girlish figure. There have been plenty of times when my grandmother and my mother have said that they were my size at my age. Now my grandmother is a women with a lot of extra cushion. And my mom is not big, but she does have some pounds on me. So last October, two of my friends decided to join the new gym that just opened up. Up until that point I had been against working out. 1). because I'm lazy and 2). because I didn't have a reason to work out. Now I had a reason to go, I had motivators and jeans that were shrinking. I refused to go up another size. Time to hit the gym. I was obsessed. I was taking classes, I was lifting, and I was doing cardio in addition to taking my salsa classes 2 nights a week, and coaching 3 nights. I would go religiously. I went daily, either right after work, or I went after practice which wasn't until 9pm, I went early in the morning on the weekends. I was in there 6-7 times a week. Then I met the bf, and its been down hill ever since. The gym is 15 minutes away from my house in one direction, and he lives 30 minutes away in the opposite direction. When contemplating in my head where to go, the bf always wins. So I've been neglecting my body and health for 5 months and it shows. Jeans are shrinking again. My sister is preggers, I swear my stomach is growing with hers. I'm sure people are like, which one's the pregnant one. I had on a button down the other day, those buttons were screaming. I had to untuck my shirt so I could eat. That was my motivation to get back into the gym.

So I've decided to cancel my memebership at my gym, and join a new one that is more convenient, they have a location around the corner from my house and also have two locations on the way to the bf's house. Now I can go right after work and still have time to go before practice and still make it to the bf's at the usual time.

So yesterday I started my free week pass. I had already gotten one back in September from the owner and already used it. But this other dude gave me one too around the same time. So I went to use it yesterday.

Assohole Owner: didn't you already use one of these?
Me: yes I did, but I was given two.
AO: To me he says, "You're not supposed to use this again." Shaking his head, under his breath to himself he says," You're really not supposed to use it." but he lets me anyway.

So why the hell did you let me. Why would I turn down a free week pass. As the owner you should treat potential customers with a little more kindness, like you want their business. Why is it that big of a deal? Your gym is not that tight. It actually is tight in the literal sense. Machines all on top of eachother. The only reason why I'm here is because my jeans are getting tight and I need a place that is more convenient. Believe me for what I'm about to pay you, I'd much rather pay $5 more for a cleaner and roomier environment, but relationships require compromise.

This is the gym that I went to once upon a time when I was did my 3 month workout stint back in high school. And once again it felt like high school. I swear it was like a GHS reunion up in there. And just like high school, I'm still like the only black person in there. So I'm minding mine, listening to Robin Thicke. and I see this dude with a baseball cap on from behind. Can't see his face, all I see is his arms that are overflowing from his D.A.R.E. t-shirt from the 7th grade and his side burns, and I know its him. Tony B. that fine ass baseball playin white boy. He turned around, and he was looking as cute as ever. I wonder if he's like Robin, I could be his sweet chocolate lover. And then he started talkin to these two boys that are brothers, WHAT, those boys were fine too. Finer that I remember. And one of them was staring at me. Just like them negroes at Jameil's gym. Anywho I'll be joining tomorrow when I get paid. I need to get back into my non-stretch size two's.

I don't know what to call this

2006-11-10T11:57:00.000-05:00

You tell me, is this a white thing, a cultural thing, a demographical thing, an age thing, or not a thing?

Last Friday I was in a rush, left work 10 minutes early, to go home, grab my clothes, get my paycheck from gymnastics, deposit/withdraw money, and make it to the hairdresser first before the Friday crowd, to be out of there in less that an hour and an a half in time to meet the BF to see Katt Williams which is an hour away. Just so you know I was completely successful, and made it to the show with time to spare. Of course this was a black show, and it started 45 min late, and you know I was pissed when Ray Ray, Shonquesha and Pookie an 'Em were still walking in half way through the show. So back to the point, I was in a rush, so I was being that bat out of hell asshole when I pulled up at the bank. Trying to make it into the ATM before this old lady that wanted to drive extra slow into the parking lot, ever notice how slow the world is when you're in a rush, but everyone wants to speed when you have no place to be. So anyway, I fly into my parking spot, and rush out of the car. Clearly Slow Driving Old White Lady(SDOWL) was there first, and technically should be next in line. But I'm selfish and in a rush, and I need to get my hair did. So I bust up in the ATM thingy, which is detached from the bank, its like a small separate building which also houses the drive-thru. So there's this other lady thats already in there, and me rushing in to beat SDOWL. As soon as I get in the other lady is ready to walk out. Here I go ready to make my transaction, and here's SDOWL, huddled in the corner of the place, like a bad kid being punished. She whispered to me, "It's cold outside, don't worry I wont look." WTF lady?!?! There is enough coverage between me and the ATM for her not to see what I'm doing, so I was never concerned. Once I've finished, I turn around and there is a dude huddled up in the corner with her waiting, and another dumb girl outside shivering to death waiting for me to finish. Is all of that necessary. The building is not that damn small. You can fit about 10 people up in there without a problem, but every time I go in there, people are either waiting in their car, or outside, for the person at the machine to finish. Do you do that at a machine in the mall, or on the street? No! You give the person enough space to do what they do and be out. Just because the machine now has a door and four walls, why does it have to be all dramatic and have unnecessary dialogue. Do ya'll have these issues at your local ATM???

My daddy says its a white thing!

BBTF part 2

2006-10-24T13:52:00.000-05:00

Towards the end of last week I started to like BBTF. After talking to him and seeing him laugh, I had a better respect for him. He had a sense of humor. He also even told me that if I was on business travel that he would go tutor my Power to Read student. That right there made my heart melt. But as soon as Monday hit, this man was back to annoying the shit out of me. Why is it necessary for you to rush down the hall into my office to interrupt what I'm doing to ask for some unecessary shit. For instance today I had a conference call with a supplier, I went to his office after the meeting to brief him on everything that happened. Explain to me why he stomps his happy ass down to my office asking me to send him an email summary on what happened. That's cool, I can do that. But what's not cool is for you to tell me word for word what you want the email to say. Excuse me if you just told me verbatim what I told you, then why couldn't you write it. I hate that, he is always telling me word for word what to tell or write somebody. In the time that it took for him to say what he wanted me to, he could have done that himself. Why waste the time, and trust that I'm going to say every single thing that you want. I'm not a damn secretary. Half the time I play his ass. When he says call so-and-so and tell her blah blah blah, I start dialing the phone before he can even finish, while its ringing I say, "Why don't you just tell her." I'm not a friggin translator. And another thing, everytime he comes in here, he walks behind my desk. Excuse me, what are you doing. There is a reason why I sit facing the door, so you can't see me writing to the blogger world about your ass.

It's a...........................

2006-10-20T13:01:00.000-05:00

GIRL!!!!

My sister is having a baby girl. I'm sooooooo excited to be an auntie. They said she's in there sucking her thumb, haha just like her mommy.

(My ("dumbass boss" )BBTF)

2006-10-17T11:00:00.000-05:00

I got a new boss a few months back, who doesn’t know shit about shit, but thinks he does. Let’s just say, I’m not too fond of this dude, nor do I adjust well to change. I know this fool must think because I got a Spanor last name I must not comprende ingles. Fukcer! Anywho I could go on for days on how this man pisses me off daily, but I’d rather not bore ya’ll with the details. He’s one of those people that gives you way more details then you asked for. For instance you ask how a meeting was that HE attended, that he had you running around for gathering materials for the day before just so he’d be prepared. The question was “How did the meeting go”, which warranted a one to three sentence answer, for example: “The meeting went well. The information that you gathered was very helpful and greatly appreciated. We accomplished XYZ.” End of conversation, that’s it, NO MORE WORDS, because I got shit to do, like blog. But nooooo, this man wants to tell me everyone in attendance, and who they all work for, and every other irrelevant detail. I told ya’ll I hate frivolous conversation filled with unnecessary information, that I didn’t ask for. Please don’t waste my time.

So today, I’m responding to all of his emails that he likes to send out as soon as I walk out the door for the day. Asking for me to create some frivolous charts that he is forever asking me for. This man stays sending emails, and the he gets a little too excited about using parentheses, he just puts them in for no reason. Then in the subject he’ll basically write everything in the subject. He’ll be responding to one of my emails, and change my subject.

Here are some examples:

“Out of the office”: me letting him know that I’ll be out 1 ½ days next week and next week only and every Friday from 9:30-10:30 to tutor a 2nd grader.
His response- RE: “Out of the Office & this week too”: will you be in the office all this week?
Don’t you think that since I’m letting you know all the days I will be out in the near future, I would probably include anything within the next 5 days too?

“Q4 Projection”
RE: “Q4 Projection & Ashli, some comments on recent discussions”

“Performance Update + Airbus Presentation”
RE: “ Ashli/Michael, please update your slides”

“Ashli / Michael, do either of you have Adobe Writer?”

“Spreadsheet for Friday's review with Airbus”
RE: “AEM feedback Ashli, please comment quickly while we still can call AEM... - Spreadsheet for Friday's review with Airbus (30 minutes)”

Back to why I’m writing about this today. So he comes in all frantic this morning, asking for another damn chart and then 5 minutes later comes back asking my availability for some dumbass meeting. I hate meetings. I always tell him I’m too busy, hehe, or if I’m not, I come late because I say I had another important meeting or I gotta leave early for a meeting. So I tell him I have a conference call at 9:30 with my Italian supplier, a 10:00 team conference call with engineering and my Californian supplier, and a 2:00 conference call with my Californian supplier again. Then he had the nerve to ask if I could skip the team conference call for his dumbass meeting, a conference call that he is supposed to be on but has blown off every single week since he’s been here. Of course I said no. Whatever. So I went to get something off of the printer to prepare for the said team conference call that I was running late to because the Italian conference call ran over. It was obvious that I was in a hurry, but this fool stops me and says, are you done with your calls yet? I tell him, “Uh (scrunched up face an all), no I’m not, and I’m running late to my second one.” I know I specifically told him about both when he was asking when I was free today. He was standing there with our “finance lady” and “this chick” that works for her in the financial leadership rotational program. So “finance lady” is telling me about some info she needs for a meeting that just came up. Same info the “dumbass boss” had already asked for in the morning so it was already done. Of course he wants to jump in and throw his two cents in, explaining what it is that she is looking for. No shit, you told me this morning. Its already done but I haven’t sent it out because I’ve been in a meeting. So I run and get it and bring it back for “finance lady.” Upon my return, “this chick” needs some other info for said meeting, I’m familiar with what she is looking for since the chick that had her job before needed that same info once a month. So I tell “this chick” I can get that to her right away, like within 5 minutes, so she’ll have it for her meeting. Why did “dumbass boss”, give me this perplexed look, and once again jumped into the convo, talking about all the details of what “this chick” is looking for and the importance of how its needed ASAP for a meeting and did I think I could get this to her. Was he not just standing there? Ugh I hate him. I fully understand that English language and don’t need a translator, nor do I need you to repeat everything 45 times, thank you very much!

Side note: me and my mentor have a code name for him: BooBoo the Fool, aka BBTF. So she sent me some form that I needed to fill out, which required you to fill in the name for the IBO Purchasing Manager. I didn’t know what IBO stood for, which meant “dumbass boss” probably wouldn’t know either, so I changed it to BBTF Purchasing Manager, with his name next to it. If he asks, I have no idea what it means.

The Gala

2006-10-13T08:24:00.000-05:00

First off I would like to know if gala is a familiar or unfamiliar word to the readers out there. I'm sure my usual readers Jameil and Stace the Socialite know what it means. But in the past two weeks, 3 people on two different occasions asked what gala was. Shocked by the question, I wasn't quite sure how to respond. I mean I know what a gala is, because I've been to several, but just didn't understand why the word was unfamiliar. Its like a ball, maybe even a prom, a fundraising event or what have you. Ya know? So I looked it up. Here is Encarta's definition:
gala: a special festive occasion that typically includes food and entertainment. Sounds like my house every weekend. Its always festive at Chez Esteves, and there is always food and drank, and some entertaining ass people. I thought formal attire would be in the definition somewhere, but whatever.

Anyway, the Amistad Center for Art & Culture, had their annual Fundraising Gala this past Saturday. This is where all of Hartford's prominent black folk would be for the evening. Tickets ran anywhere from $500-$1000 a person. This is a big to do; it's the Amistad's biggest fundraiser of the year. Guess who was a last minute invite? Your's truly. Like so last minute,
as in morning of. But as usual I was prepared. For the past couple of weeks I had been looking in my closet to see if I had anything to wear, hoping that someone needed a date or had a ticket lying around. And low and behold I got the call at 8 am Saturday morning. My aunt had not one but two extra tickets and asked if me and the bf wanted to go. BF couldn't go, no big deal I had been wanting to for weeks. My parents were already going, and so was one of my friends, and then of course my aunt.

I already knew what I was going to wear, and I just got my hair done the day before, all that was left were my nails. So called Lee to hook me up, yes that’s really her name. I went for my usual color, O.P.I.’s Hawaiian Orchid, really it’s a soft nudey pink. Really natural looking, ya know.

So I have to thank my good friend for picking out re-wearable bridesmaids dresses for her wedding. Who ever thought you would ever wear a bridesmaid dress again? Well my girl did a good job and I was able to wear the strapless palm beach coral floor length satin A-line dress with a cascading back, with the matching palm beach coral peep toe pumps with the rhinestone
brooch again. I went with simple accessories, some diamond studs and a multi-colored rhinestone chocker, and a cream pashmina wrap. Tres elegant.

The event was held at the Wadsworth Atheneum, which is a museum in Hartford where the Amistad Center for Art & Culture is housed, and holds many of their events. The ACFAC, is a non-profit organization that documents African American Experiences through different works of art, popular culture, and history. Their mission is to interpret and celebrate African American art and humanities and to educate the public about their importance and influence in American life.

We entered the museum on the Morgan Great Room side where we were greeted at the door to an open bar and passed Hors d'œuvre. Please read the record dish to see what was on the menu. Anyway everyone’s schmoozing and boozing it up chit chatting and gossiping all while posing for professional photographed pictures. I’m just observing how everyone is dressed. I feel a tad bit overdressed, but that’s better than being underdressed. I just noticed that almost everyone was wearing black. I rarely ever wear black to an event like that. I like to be different, and different I was with my bright palm beach coral. But as usual I stayed flyyy, cuz I’m hood rich, na na na naaaah, gotta quarter tank of gas…… haha, get it Stace……..I digress. Anyway people were on my nuts, if I had nuts, balls, testies what have you, I was getting compliments out the ass. So I guess the coral was good choice instead of your traditional black, people remembered my ass. So next the trumpets sounded, which meant it was time to move on to the next room for dinner and for the program to begin. Like a nicely dressed parade of ants, we collectively traveled to Avery Court to be seated at our assigned tables. There was a slide show going on from the pictures that had been taken throughout the night. I think the photographer got that idea from me from my white party last Labor Day. Anyway the wine was flowing, the service was excellent, and these negroes were dining on unpronounceable fancy foods but looked so good while doing it. I love seeing my people all dressed up doing big things. Before dinner, this lady was asked to sing the invocation and that’s it. Why did this bitch start off by introducing herself, walking around the whole room giving her autobiography, then begins to sing some song, and then closes with a commercial for her show coming up at the end of the month. BLACK PEOPLE, I tell ya. The President of the Amistad was pissed. Needless to say, that will be her last time singing shit for the Amistad.
After dinner they honored the president of the other HU, I was kinda bored, tired, and a tad tipsy, so I couldn’t even tell you what he did to deserve the honor, probably would have been more excited to see Harvey up there, not that I paid any attention to him at my graduation, because his speech was so wack, T. I. M. L. E. E. saved the show that day. And during dessert and cordials there was an auction, where they auctioned off some nice art; a book written by a Hamptonian; a basketball signed by Magic Johnson with a set of pearls from China (RANDOM); my aunt donated her catering services: Thanksgiving dinner for 10; and some ugly ass bowl looking thing with pressed leaves on it. All the money went to the Amistad. After that I was ready to go home. I couldn’t even hang one minute longer. That was a long night, 7pm-11:30pm plus open bar; you’re asking to put somebody to sleep. My girls wanted to go out after that. I passed on that one, and those chicks weren’t changing before they went out. I was not going out in the streets of Hartford in a bridesmaid dress. But all in all I had a good time. Can’t wait to do it again when I can afford to put my hand up during the auction just because I can. You’ll be seeing me with some dumb shit with leaves all over it.

The Bourgeoisie Hamptonian

2006-10-06T07:35:00.000-05:00

Question of the day? At what point in time did Hampton become so boogie?

I don’t even know if that's how to spell the negro-americanized word derived from the French word Bourgeoisie, which according to the Encarta Dictionary, means: affluent middle-class people characterized as conventional, conservative, or materialistic in outlook. Sounds about right, yeah we're snobs.

So I was having dinner with a fellow Hamptonian last night, and that question came up. Her mother is also a Hamptonian and says that Hampton is totally different now, than it was when she went through. Not that this is a bad thing, but we were just trying to pinpoint at exactly what time did Hampton become so boogie? Because I think each year it gets worse and worse. But I think us Hamptonians like having that label, being one of the boogiest HBCU’s. I guess its some sort of accomplishment. Another thing that we pointed out was the fact that no one was like that before they got to Hampton. After your first year you go through a change, we describe it as being Hamptonized.

We were bred to be proud, and confident, almost borderline arrogant, with a strong bond to our alma mater. I think that’s how most HBCU’s are. Every single one of my Hampton friends, are the most confident people, who have their shit together. Every one of them is doing big things, and I think that has a lot to do with their Hampton upbringing. Hampton taught us how to act, dress, and be prepared for different situations. Hamptonians, both female and male, are so poised, and know how to turn every situation (ie. funerals) into a friggin fashion show. But that’s what we were taught, come with you’re A-game at all times. Which brings me to the point of this post. We, Hamptonians know how to dress appropriately. This is something the “other” schools didn’t teach their students. The people I work with come to work looking crazy. For whatever reason, my company doesn’t technically have a dress code, so I guess that’s an invitation for these fools to come to work in their pajamas. NEGATIVE. That just means you don’t have to be suited up. So being a graduate of the Hampton school of business, and working in Corporate America, I fully understand the difference between business attire, business casual, and work appropriate casual, and appropriate footwear for each.

So the bf, a graduate of a majority white college, who doesn’t understand the value of an HBCU and the close bond that I have with my alma mater, who also works in Corporate America doesn’t understand appropriate work attire. This boy thinks he can dress his ass off. In my opinion, he can dress, but not his ass off. You know I only date boys that can dress. But anyway, I don’t know about anyone else but when I think of wearing jeans to work, I think of that only being on Fridays. This dude will go suited up on random days of the week, never the same day every week, and then he’ll wear jeans on random days of the week. Daily he wears his earrings, that’s a huge no no in my book. And then the days that he dresses down, there is always at least one article of clothing that makes the outfit non work appropriate; its either the gold chain, the earrings, too baggy jeans, the uptowns or the timbs. Timbs and sneakers are never appropriate in Corporate America, EVER!!! I don’t care how laid back your department is. You are a black man, they are always looking at you, whether you’re in a three piece suit or you’re wearing those damn timbs. If they wouldn’t let you in the club with that on, then you sure as hell shouldn’t be wearing it to work.

So that just shows the difference between a Bourgeoisie Hampton degree vs. a non-Hampton degree.

Me

2006-09-25T12:49:00.000-05:00

I stole this from Jarrod who stole it from somebody else.

1. How tall are you barefoot? 5’1

2. Have you ever flown first-class? Yup

3. One of your favorite books when you were a child? Charlotte’s Web

4. A good restaurant in your city: Wang Palace

5. What is your favorite small appliance? Is curling iron???

6. One person that never fails to make you laugh? Jaca, one of my gymnasts

7. What’s your favorite Christmas song? Mariah’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You”

8. What was the first music that you ever bought? I can’t remember. I kinda remember getting a Warren G cassette single, “Regulate” I think.

9. Do you do push-ups? Nah, not really. I’d rather do pull ups.

10. What was one of your favorite games as a child? Dream Phone

11. What is the one thing that you cook that always receives compliments? My Fried Chicken, that shit is bangin. I’m a chef.

12. When you were twelve years old, what did you want to be when you grew up? Who the hell knows, I still don’t know what I want to be, but I sure as hell have a list of what I don’t want to be.
13. Your favorite Soup of the Day? Munchup.

14. What in your life are you most grateful for? Life, and my family

15. Have you ever met someone famous? My idol, Dominique Dawes. Holy Hell, I almost passed the hell out when I shook her hand. I never wanted to wash it. And then I was pissed when our eyes met, and she didn’t say wow we look alike.

16. Date Of Birth? Friday, April, 1982 9:42 a.m.

17. Top 3 thoughts at this exact moment: I need a nap, a new job, and some more pay in my paycheck.

18. Three people you're thinking about right now: my boo, my sister and my future niece or nephew.

19. Name five drinks you regularly drink: Water, French Vanilla coffee either iced or hot but light and sweet like me, cranberry juice, Goose & Tonic with a splash of lime juice, and Diet Coke with lime

20. From what news source do you receive the bulk of your news? My father.

21. Current hair? Short with a side bang to the right, cut low in the back.

22. Current worry? I’m not real fond of my new boss or this jobby job.

23. Current hate? Frivolous conversation, questions and meetings.

24. Favorite place to be? Home

25. Least favorite place to be? Work

26. Do you consider yourself well organized? When I had my apartment at school definitely, now that I’m back home with the ‘rents, not so much.

27. Do you believe in an afterlife? Yes

28. Where do you think you will be in 10 years? Married with children, being somebody’s housewife, making jewelry and cards, cooking and cleaning, and owning an appetizery type restaurant, a post club greasy spoon restaurant open from 1am – 4 am, and a parking lot in a city where there are a lot of night clubs in a college town.

29. Do you burn or tan? Tan

30. Who was the last blogger you hung out with? Melly Mel.

31. Are you more optimistic or pessimistic about the future? Optimistic

32. Last time you had an alcoholic drink? Friday night

33. What songs do you sing in the shower? I don’t sing in the shower.

34. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a kid? I don’t really recall. I just remember one time my sister woke up screaming because trash was coming out of my cabbage patch doll’s sock.

35. What’s in your pockets right now? Nada

36. Last thing that made you laugh? The bf saying he was drinking wine in the club.

37. Best bed sheets you had as a child? New Kids on the Block, to match Joey McIntire poster above my bed, my sister had Jordan night. I can’t believe my mother let us have some gay white boys on our sheets, and then put their faces on our walls.

38. Worst injury you’ve ever had? Sprained my right ankle last December coaching gymnastics.

39. Favorite song? Today I really like, “Sexyback,” JT.

40. How many TVs do you own? We have 7, two of which I personally own.

41. In the last calendar year, how many people have you told that you love them? We don’t say that too often, if ever, in my family. So I think I only tell one of my friends that. And that’s because she says it first.

42. Last person that made you blush? The bf.

43. Best compliment received? Don't remember

44. What song is in your head? None

45. What is your favorite book? The Right Address

46. Last meal you cooked for the opposite sex? Fried Chicken, mac & cheese, and sweet potato casserole.

47. What songs do you want played at your wedding? “Isn’t She Lovely” Steveie Wonder, for when I dance with my Daddy. “More than a Woman,” Angie Stone and Joe.” “Happily Ever After,” Case, for the last song of the night. And whatever is me and my husband’s song.

48. What song do you want played at your funeral? “Closer,” Goapele

49. What were you doing at 12 midnight last night? Sleeping

50. What would you like to accomplish with the remaining years of your life? Success, happiness

I hate Brad Pitt......

2006-09-25T07:19:00.000-05:00

So this dude third party-adopts baby Zahara, and now thinks he's the king of black hair care. He thinks he's the spokesperson for white people adopting black babies. I was listening to Steve Harvey this morning, and they were talking about how Brad Pitt is reaching out to other white adoptive parents of black children to help them manage their negro baby's naps. He's promoting Carol's Daughter, because it makes Z's hair so soft silky and manageable. Wait til Z wants a perm, Brad will be singing, "just for meeee." Why don't they just get her a black nanny.

buon giorno-parte due

2006-09-10T20:50:00.000-05:00

So I wake up from my much needed nap and realize that this was all a dream. I wish that was why I went to Milan. Hahaha that was FICTION!!! Ya'll are so gullible. The bf didn't really take me to Milan. I really went there, and that’s how I wish it went down. But really I had to go for work. It was a totally random spur of the moment trip. I have a supplier out there that isn’t performing well. So I had to go out there to finally meet these people and see what the problem is. My VP decided at the last minute that he wanted this old dude that I work with to take me out there to come up with a recovery plan for the supplier. The trip was successful and we accomplished what we went out there for, but the trip was way too short. I was out there for a day and a half. And all I did was work. There was no time for sight seeing or shopping. I wish I was able to do more but there just wasn’t any time. But next time I have to go out there, which I hope is soon, I will def take some vacation time to explore, so I have something more exciting to report when I get back.

buon giorno

2006-09-07T13:04:00.000-05:00

So I’m back from Italy. I’m sure you were all surprise because I left without warning. Well I was surprised too. The bf is so sweet, yes that’s what we’re calling him now. Move over Jameil you’re not the only one with a bf now. A few weeks ago he asked me if I had a passport. I thought nothing of it. But of course I have one. Ever since my Management 400 class, I’ve had one. Dr. Jackson made that an extra credit assignment. She said you never want to miss out on a spur of the moment international traveling opportunity just because you don’t have a passport. That was pretty great advice and I’m glad I listened to her. So back to the topic at hand. So the bf asked me to be his gf over dinner, of course I said yes. And then asked if I was going to be free for the long weekend (Labor Day) and would I like to take a trip? Since I had nothing to do I said sure. So he told me that’s great but I would have to take a few days off of work because he wanted to start our trip on Wednesday night. OOO a trip I’m excited, where are we going, NY, DC, Miami, where??? He said I’ll tell you after you pack, just pack enough for four days for the type of weather that we have right here in CT, an after 5 cocktail type dress and your passport, and I’ll take care of the rest. Hmm a surprise, and an international one at that. I hope we’re not going to Canada. So he comes to get me and my super deluxe suitcase. I’m super-d-duper excited! He says to me, why the hell did you pack so much, I said 4 days? Well shit I didn’t know where I was going so I had to have some just “in case” clothes. So where are we going. When he responded it was like Tyra in her fake rapper/Bonquisha Jenkins talk on Top Model, when she tells the models about their overseas trip at the end of the season. “Pack your bags, you’re going to MILAN!!!!” And then I did the Punky Brewster dance. Oh shit, I’m going to Milan, you better shut up. “For what?” I say out loud, but in my head I say, “Who cares, I’m going to Milan, the fashion capitol of the world!” He tells me he has to go for work for some recognition thing and he was allowed to bring a guest. Why haven’t you told me about this? Well I wanted it to be a surprise, and I’ve known since I met you that I wanted to take you with me. How great would it be to bring the most beautiful girl to one of the most beautiful countries? Awe that’s sweet. So we drive to NY, to fly out of JFK. Dude has us on business class. Flyin to Milan in style. I’ve never had such great service. They greet you with champagne, warm hand towels, they give you a menu for dinner, bring a fresh assortment of nuts, wines and cheeses, then they give you sleeping masks and socks. Wow I’m never flying coach again. No wonder they keep the curtain closed. Its like another world up there. So after 9 hours of traveling and losing 6 hours we have arrived. We go through customs, get our bags and hail a cab. WOW this place is beautiful. And I can see the Swiss Alps from here. The cab takes us to this beautiful hotel, the Palace Hotel. Incredible. This hotel is in the heart of Milan. Every major fashion designer. I was in heaven. But I was exhausted. Before I do anything I must take a nap. So we take it down for a while.

Guess what.......

2006-08-28T09:15:00.000-05:00

I'm going to Milan Bitches!!! Holla at you when I get back.

too cute

2006-08-12T18:20:00.000-05:00

This little girl is too cute. Much better than that chicken noodle soup bullshat. She's amazing, and I'm sure her lil ass knows how to read.

chicken noodle soup wit a soda on da side

2006-08-02T22:12:00.000-05:00

are you serious? you have got to friggin kidding me. have you heard this song before? what has modern day music come to? chicken noodle soup, wit a soda on the side? WITF?!?!?! and guess what, there's a dance to go along with it. as if, lean wit it, and the shoulder lean weren't enough, now we've got the chicken soup dance. the east coast is tryin to so hard to compete. why must all the new songs coming out, have instructions or dance steps. what happened to the electric and the cha cha slides. now at your wedding you'll be doing the chicken soup. but look at these babies here and this one right cheer is extra hype. but this is why little black children can't read.

i got..........

2006-07-17T09:56:00.000-05:00

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from the boy yesterday

question of the day

2006-07-12T13:04:00.000-05:00

If you’re American and you are fluent in American English, and you do business with, lets say China, and you are fluent in Chinese where you can read and write it, when speaking in your native tongue, is it necessary for you to speak to your Chinese counterparts with a fake Chinese accent using broken English? That is totally uncalled for. I heard my ignorant boss doing it, earlier today.

u make me smile

2006-07-12T11:54:00.000-05:00

It has been brought to my attention that my posts have been a little on the angry side lately, so I have decided to share a happy story today. I finally met a boy, I guess he’s too old for me to be referring to him as a boy, so I met a man, but that sounds too old, anyway ya’ll get the point, I met a guy. Finally!!! Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for giving me patience. For the past 3 years, I’ve met a bunch of guys, and I just haven’t clicked with any of them. Ya’ll already know because I’ve told you about most of them. Although its only been like three weeks, so far I think he’s great. Let me tell you how we met.

It was a Friday night, and me and my girls are at our usual Friday night hang out spot. So I’m being the annoying tipsy girl, not letting people up the throughway without a password. And my friend notices this dude walk by, she’s like “Hey! We know him!!!” Just like ol dude said in “Elf.” So I wave him down, and say, “Excuse me sir, we know you.” Even though I have no clue who he is, because he does not look familiar to me at all. But he smiled, and tells me to come over to talk to him. He was like, “Yeah, we’ve met before. I met you here last year, and we spoke for an hour. I called you, and you had someone else answer your phone, and you never called me back.” Ha, that’s funny because I didn’t remember him at all, but it sounded like something I would do. So I told him I didn’t believe him, and I don’t remember him or the situation. He proceeds to spit every little bit of information about me. He knew where I worked, that I went to school down south, knew where I lived, and that I lived at home, and that I don’t like white girls. Holy shit, you STALKER!!! He knew everything but my name and social security number. I felt bad that I didn’t remember meeting him; I must have been drunk drunk, because I have a pretty good memory. So he wants to have conversation, and I’m not really into having conversation in the club, because I can’t hear, and I especially don’t want to talk for too long because I don’t want people to think you’re my man. I was tryin to get my holla on. So he prolongs the conversation, and finally asks for my number, and says, “I still think you’re cool. This time I’m only going to call once. And if I don’t hear from you, oh well.” So I look at him, roll my eyes, shrug my shoulders, and say, “I don’t give a fukc!” He says, alright, kisses me on the cheek and we go our separate ways. He’s intrigued by my class and sass. I’m appalled that he just kissed my cheek in the club but at the same time I kinda liked it. That man was trying to piss all over his territory. Well it worked because no one else hollered at me for the rest of the night. Well he said he’d call once, and he did just that, two days later. And I called him back. We arranged a date. We met for dinner, he was nice and conversation was good. And I had decided that he had qualified for round two. Just so you know I have a strict screening process for dating. And as you know, most dudes don’t make it past the preliminary round. I am extremely picky. Based on physical appearance he was in there, he came from work, so he was all dressed up, shirt and tie, cuff links and a tight edge up, and straight teeth. He made it through round one even though I wasn’t feeling the tie, and the shirt was purple, and I hate purple, but the combination showed that he can throw down, so I let it slide. So besides dressing well, and loving to shop, brotha man has a good job, has a degree and is working on a masters, has no kids, but loves kids, mentors two kids, has two God-children, coaches a basketball team, and is close to his family. Doesn’t he sound amazing?
Well it gets better. That first week we met, I went to NY for the long weekend, so he called everyday to check on me. He actually calls and he actually talks. Most dudes don’t like to talk on the phone. So I was amazed by that. So when I got back from NY, he invited me to his house, where he had two pink roses for me, because he knows pink is my favorite color, and he gave me a foot rub because he knew I had on some shoes I shouldn’t have, and I was walking around the city all weekend. Isn’t that so sweet???

Then the next day was my parents’ anniversary, and my 9 yr old god-sister was visiting them for the week, so they asked me to entertain her while they went to dinner. So I decided to take her to Chuck E. Cheese, and invite the boy to come too. When he got there he had two yellow roses for me. Awe shucks, he is too cute. Anyway he was so good with her, and she loved him. It was cute to watch him interact with her. The people thought we were married and were her parents. He kept asking her to describe the perfect man, and for tips on how to get me. And she let him know what he needed to do to win me over.

And then the day after that, he asked me to go to his brother’s basketball game. Now if anyone knows me, they know I do not like sports, unless it’s a Hampton vs. Howard or NSU game, and that’s only to be up in the mix and parkin lot pimp. So I must really like this boy, when I actually got up and went to the game. But what really motivated me to go, was the fact that I had just stepped out of the hairdressers and my outfit was to fly. So I had to show off, since I knew his daddy and his other brother would be there, so I had leave a lasting impression on em. I had on a black t-length black wrap dress, with the medium pearls, and some black peep-toe pumps. What??!?! Your girl was looking right. A little too fly for a 15 yr old’s basketball game. But whatever, Daddy was impressed. He said I was a keeper. He works where I work at, so he told his son to give me his number so we could do lunch.

So my family and friends are in shock because I’m real picky, and most guys don’t usually make it this far. Not that this is all that far, three whole weeks. They’re surprised to see me talking on the phone, because I don’t usually talk on the phone to guys unless I really like them, and they are surprised I’m actually being nice because I’m usually evil. So hopefully this works out, because I’m excited to see where this will go, and he makes me smile :)

Sprint, Conchita and Habib that A-Rab Futhamucka

2006-07-11T11:54:00.000-05:00

Ok so a while ago I was watching the Today Show, and they did a segment on all the little secrets on how to bypass automated telephone systems. So dude says to avoid waiting on hold for an operator just select the Spanish speaking option, since all of the operators have to speak Spanish and English. Today I realized I hadn’t paid my Sprint bill since some dumbass identity theft futhamucker wanted to use my debit card at Futhamuckin Home Depot and overdrew my account, and I had to get a new card which takes 10-12 business days (which is friggin ridiculous, how the hell am I supposed to get cash w/o having to walk into the bank during business hours), so I haven’t been able to pay my bill online like I usually do, which I probably wont anymore, since that’s probably how I got into this mess in the first damn place. But I digress. So anywho I called Sprint at lunchtime, and of course the wait was 15-20 minutes long, so I decided to hang up and try my call again and select the el opcion de espanol. Some how I was able to use my high school Spanish knowledge to get me through all the prompts, and there was no wait. I get through, and the chick says some fast unrecognizable shit. So I say hold up, I’m going to be speaking English now. And I tell her why I’m calling, and the bitch goes silent. She says in English with no accent whatsoever, um this is the Spanish line, for Spanish speaking customers only, so I’ma transfer you to the English line. To myself I say, “Well no shit bitch, clearly I know that this is the Essspanish speaking line, I got all the way through to you, and clearly you speaka-the-english so why the hell can’t you help me now. I’m still a paying customer with a Spanish last name, and I need to pay my damn bill! FCUK!!!!!” So Conchita transfers me to English speaking line. WTF?!?!!? Why the fcuk did Habib answer the phone? And this A-Rab futhamucka answers the phone with his brokenassenglish. Are these people serious? The Spanish bitch didn’t want to help me b/c I don’t espeaka espanish, but she wants to direct to the English line where the dude doesn’t even speak English. What has America come to???

all up in my biznass

2006-06-27T07:39:00.000-05:00

so there's this other chinaman at the job who has irked my nerves. let's call him Ping. i'll give you some background on the dude. i'm not sure if i've ever mentioned him before, but he's the dude that has an office right next to the bathroom, and i used to have a tendancy of walking by multiple times a day and not say anything, until one day i got called out, but that's beside the point, i'm just tryin to let ya'll know who i'm talkin about. so i assume he travels a lot with his job and he's got a lot of off site meetings, because days will go by and i wont see him. and the offices around here have those motion sensored lights, so if youre out of your office for more than 30 min or your ass is sleep in there, the light will go out. so you always know when people are when people are bullshittin around. so i don't know shit about Ping and what his job entails but i have noticed that as of late he is either not in the office, or he leaves early, like at lunchtime, and never comes back. so a few months back i ran into him at the gym, so now when i see him we have some bullshitass small talk about the gym and shit, blah blah blah. i hate small talk. anyway, i walked by his office today with my half ass good morning, and he called me in. he says to me, " do you still go to the gym? I haven't seen you in a while." I wanted to say, "Bitch! mind ya biness thats all just mind ya biness. do you even still work here? Hell ya i still go to the gym, how do you think i stay so fly? i go when the fcuk i want to, kinda like you come here when the fcuk you want. " but i had to keep it professional, so i said, "yes Ping, i still go to the gym. my schedule is just a little different now." All up in my shit, some nerve, and I just saw that his light is already out, its 11:40 am. Ping where you at? Been gone since about 11:10. He must be at the gym, prolly why he doesnt ever see me because i'm at work bloggin about him.

MISSFUTHERMUCKINASHLIBITCHES Part 2

2006-06-25T14:01:00.000-05:00

so dude did it again. he walked into work at about 9:30, strolls passed my office and says, Good Morning Alicia. once again i ignore his ass. so then he chuckles, "haha, i mean Ashli, hehe I called you Alicia." (in my head i say, ya no shit you've done that like a million times, doesn't he realize thats why i don't say antyhing back.) mind you he never turns around, he just keeps on to his office talkin to himself, and i say nothing, i don't even look up. because after 8 months ifyou don't know my name, and every time you call me out of my name my name tag is right in front of your face, i have nothing to say to you. i mean if you can't get it right, EVER, how bout you just say a simple unadressed Good Morning, and keep it moving.

why in the hell

2006-06-25T14:00:00.000-05:00

is my neighbor mowing the lawn on his rider lawnmower in the pouring rain with no shirt or shoes on? white people, i tell ya.

MISSFUTHERMUCKINASHLIBITCHES

2006-06-16T07:06:00.000-05:00

ive been at my current job for about 8 months now, and i have a name tag on the outside of my office door, and one on my desk, but why is it that when the chinese man accross the hall comes in every morning he calls me everything but my name, im hoping i misunderstood his thick ass accent today because i had my headphones in, but im pretty sure the mofo said good morning alicia, just as he passed the tag that said MISSFUTHERMUCKINASHLIBITCHES!!!!

Miss Ashli Brought to You Today by the Letter "Y" and the Number 10

2006-06-05T09:46:00.000-05:00

So Melly Mel put me on to the "pick a letter, pick 10 words" game who was put on by Aisha T, who was put on by Barry who was put on by Steph and Jenni. So Melly Mel gave me the Letter "Y". It wasn't as hard as I thought. So here it goes:

1. Yellow: Of course my first word would be Yellow. Not my fav color, but its up there with pink. This word describes where I fall into one of the many shades of black skin tones. High yella, light skinned, red bone, light bright, see-thru, pale & sickly, and mellow yellow. You name I’ve been called all of it. I think I’ll start my tanning regimen this week. Oh and my seersucker pants that I had to have are yellow.

2. Yahoo!: my favorite search engine. Its my homepage. For whatever reason I like it much better than Google, but I will still tell someone I “googled” it. It sounds better than saying I “yahooed” it.

3. Younique: the name of the beauty shop where I got that effed up hair cut. You know, when I came out looking like J-Lo in Enough.

4. Yoga: I love yoga, hey I’m gymnast/dancer. And no, I’m not that flexible. Ugh, guy’s are so stupid, they always ask me that when I tell them I’m a former gymnast.

5. Yogurt: I really don’t like yogurt, unless its Yoplait Whips. Yogurt makes me wanna gag.

6. Yorkie or Yorkshire Terrier: When I move out of La Casa de la ’Rents, I want to buy a yorkie puppy. I’m gonna name her Shug Avery. Don’t know why, I just wanna, I’m sure no one asked Stace why when she named her dog Russell Simmons the Sportsperson……Movin on

7. Young: slang adjective describing clothing that is too small, another word for Smedium.
Yo did you see his shirt, it was mad young. His sleeves were like capris.

8. Yoked up: as in hemmed up or snatched the fcuk up.

9. Yuppie: young suburban well paid professional with an affluent lifestyle. That’s what I want to be, but the black version, the Buppie. Who am I kidding, I want to be the affluent housewife of a Buppie, who has a 2 kids, a boy and a girl, and owns her own YogaSpa.

10. You: Eff you, it ain’t about you. Its all about me.

missing you

2006-05-31T13:52:00.000-05:00

It just hit me. I miss school. Not actually going to class, but even thats better than going to work, but I miss Hampton. I miss my friends. I miss the college life, of doing nothing all day, and the fact that we were in such a hurry to get only to find out that the real world is not all its cracked up to be. I just miss sitting in the apt watching Food TV, then making something that I saw on Food TV, and then people coming over to eat what I made from watching Food TV, and I miss our random house parties, and the get right juice that we served in buckets, and getting my cell phone stolen out of my own house, and making up songs about gettin "some", and making up dances, and pretending the couch was the paralled bars, and going to Holland Jams even tho they were wack, and walking thru the student center just to sit around and eat Chick-fil-a and lunar lemonades, and yelling off the deck and watching people drive in and out of the Harbors, and seeing someone get bit by another human and giving them gangrene all because she got caught trying to steal his campus decals and stealing a bottle of wine from Olive Garden, and going to play laser tag where i was china doll, and making Kool-aid, and making Blue Thunder- the blue kool-aid with skyy vodka, and collecting skyy bottles, and going to cabarets, and going to the norva, and ridin to the norva while drinkin some alcoholic concoction, and having to pee outside before waiting in line to get into the norva, eating wendy's, taco bell or mcdonalds at 3 in the morning, random trips to walmart and getting cotton candy at the end of every visit, riding up and down mercury, going to wack ass coliseum mall, driving other people's cars, parlaying outside the cafe when the weather was nice, almost getting into fights when we couldn't even fight, attempting to throw someone down the stairs for attempting to cheat on me and then hazing him up when he tried to apologize, going to Tommy's after a long night, getting dressed up for the NSU and Howard games, going up to DC for the weekends, hey i'm sure the list could go on but I'm gettin sad tryin to think of more. i have so many memories of my home by the sea, i wish i was still there to make more, all i have left is my homecomings, even though last year was the wackest in the history of homecomings, i will be there this year b/c i miss ya'll

Correction

2006-05-27T23:26:00.000-05:00

CORRECTION, IN MY LAST POST I NEGLECTED TO MENTION THAT JAMEIL1922 MADE THE SUGGESTION OF GOING TO TARGET TO FIND A PAIR OF SEERSUCKER PANTS. SO MS JAMEIL1922, I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THAT I AM FOREVER GRATEFUL TO YOU FOR HELPING ME IMPROVE MY WARDROBE. IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU I'D STILL BE CONTEMPLATING SPENDING ALMOST $100 FOR SOME PERMANETLY WRINKLED PANTS. THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Quest for Seersucker

2006-05-26T10:49:00.000-05:00

For the past few weeks I’ve been on a major quest to find some seersucker pants. I’ve been envisioning myself in some cute seersucker pants with a bright colored polo, and of course you can't forget the pearls. My outfit is never complete unless there are some pearls involved. So I was searching high and low and was extremely unsuccessful. I went to all of my favorite places, even places I never frequent. I went to GAP, Old Navy, Talbot’s, Ann Taylor, TJ Maxx, Marshall’s, J.Crew.com, you name it I was there. Now just about every place had some type of seersucker article of clothing for sale, shorts, capris, skirts, shirts, and blazers. But no one had pants. I went to Talbot’s, asked the white lady behind the counter for assistance because at this point I didn’t feel like looking around the whole damn store. I asked if they had seersucker PANTS. She brings be over to the shorts and capris. So I look at her and say, do you have PANTS. She says nope, just these shorts and capris. Well had I said do you have ANYTHING seersucker, then those articles would have been appropriate for her to show me. But I specifically said PANTS. So I head to the Maxx. Bingo! They have pants. But they only have like size 12 and ups. Good thing they didn’t have my size because they were Tommy Hilfiger. I refuse to buy anything his racist ass makes. But since I was so desperate for my pants, and they were so cute and pink, I just may have purchased them as a last resort, IF they had my size. So I leave and decide to save my search for while I’m at work on company time. I google seersucker pants. After weeding through all the pants with the elastic waistbands that only old white ladies would wear, I came across some $98 pants at J.Crew, but they would have to be the most bangingest pair of pants for me to pay that much, and they’d have to honor price adjustments when the price comes down, and I would only get them if no one else in America had any that I fancied. Moving on to the next website. In my head I hear, "OMG Clap for her!"Target was having a sale, and Isaac Mizarahi had not one, not two but three different shades of seersucker pants, capris, dresses and jackets. Well of course the grey ones that I wanted they didn’t have my size. So I went for the acid yellow & white stripes. Too cute! So I ordered them. Got them in the mail last week. And I wore them today with my yellow polo and my pearls. They are so comfy and cute, and as do most things they enhance my flyness, the only complaint that I have is that they are really long but then again so are all of my pants.

I AM NOT A GAY

2006-05-17T07:45:00.000-05:00

Dear Gay Indian Girl from the Gym,

For your information I’m not a gay. I don’t have a problem with gay people, but I just want you to know I’m not into that kinda thing and neither are any of my friends. So we would appreciate it if you would stop interrupting our workouts. That means don’t wait for me to come out of the bathroom to tell me my eyes are beautiful, don’t stare at me while I’m doing my thigh adductions, don’t get on the elliptical machine behind my treadmill to gawk at my ass, don’t ask my friend questions about how far she runs EVERYDAY, don’t ask me my name, and lastly do not ever come out of your way to stand over me while I’m working out to say, “You’re hot! That’s a compliment Ashli.” Well I’m not fcuking gay, so I don’t find that to be a fcuking compliment. You've got some nerve. I found your supposed compliment to be quite rude. And I would even find it rude if a straight guy said it too. I don’t need you to tell me that I’m hot or that I have beautiful eyes. Believe me I know, I’m vain. Maybe you didn’t know, but the mirror (or anything with my reflection) is my best friend. I don’t need your affirmations, I’m good, thanks.

Do I look gay? Maybe it’s the short hair. I don’t know. But what about me says, gay girl, please come over here and holler. Let me know so I can avoid this unnecessary attention. And please explain to me, why your friend (who also goes to my church, but we’ve never had a conversation that ever consisted of more than Hi or Bye) comes up to me in the locker room to say she has a friend that wants to meet me. Excuse me?!?! So I’m thinking to myself, please let it be that ugly black man that she was working out with. So in shock, loudly and with much attitude I ask, “WHO!?!?!?” And she snickers, “I can’t say, until THEY allow me to say.” Did you peep that, she said THEY, not HE? I’m concerned and not flattered in the least. I really hope she wasn’t talking about you Gay Indian Girl. You will not have your friend soliciting me for you. I’m not interested, and for the last time, I AM NOT A GAY! Leave me the hell alone.

-Feminine Straight Girl

rotten eggs

2006-05-12T12:50:00.000-05:00

You remember how a while back I went out salsa dancing alone? Well I’ve done it again, and I have done it numerous times since then, but that is not the point of my story. Well the last time I blogged about it, my hair was in desperate need of hairdressing attention. And I said that it was a horrible idea to go dancing while needing a relaxer, (or relaxen as my doctor calls it) because your hair will swell the eff up. So last night I had a fresh relaxer, since I had just gotten my hair done a few hours before. Negative. Not a good look to go dancing right after you get your hair did. When your head sweats, it smells like rotten eggs. Ya’ll know what I’m talkin bout. Why do relaxers smell like that? After all these years and all this great technology don’t you think they woulda come up with something to fix that? But whatever. Another thing that is a bad idea, is to tie a zip-up hoodie around your waist while dancing. Seemed alright at first, I was shakin my tail feather, and the next thing you know, my foot is stuck. I try to pull it out twice, but its stuck on something. My damn foot was caught up in my friggin hood. WTF! Dude I was dancing with, looked hella confused and was like are you ok. So I got my fix, I had my four dances, sweated out my do and then I was out. Those potos (that’s what my daddy calls puertoricans) don’t know nothing about that. They’ve got that wash n’ go hair.

Mother's Day

2006-05-12T09:49:00.001-05:00

So ol buddy next door, you know the annoying one, came by my office today. Please know that he hasn’t spoken to me all week, as a matter of fact I think its been two weeks. He hasn’t come over since it was “take you kid to work day”, which was April 27. I’ll get on that later. So I know its Mother’s Day this weekend, I already have my weekend planned. I don’t really need a reminder. Hallmark already let me know, and I have purchased all of my cards. So dude comes by, lets call him Ben, and he says in his most chipper voice while walking past my door, “Don’t forget Mother’s Day!!! I’m sure you don’t need reminding. But I just don’t want you to forget.” I just looked at him, and said nothing, and since he had passed my door before he finished his statement, I figured his comment didn’t warrant a response. Well I guess he figured it did, because here he comes tiptoeing backwards, looking in waiting for me to respond. Oh gosh, now this means I have to say something. So I do the annoyed uncomfortable-I-have-nothing-to-say-to-you smile and laugh combo and say in my driest voice, “umm thanks, I don’t need a reminder.” He laughs, and walks away. It’s nice that he reminded me, but how does he know that my mother is living. Granted, she is very much alive and kicking, and I am very grateful for her and everything that she has done, does, and might do in the future. The point is, you shouldn’t just assume. I know everyone has a mother, and I’m sure they are reminded of her every Mother’s Day, but does everyone have a live and functioning relationship with their mother? You just shouldn’t assume that they do. That’s like me walking around extra hype on December 24 and running into Ben’s office wearing my jingle bell earrings, Santa sweater and red & white striped tights, breaking out into my favorite Christmas carols along with interpative dances to say, “Don’t forget Christmas!” and Ben’s a Hasidic Jew. So back to my point, you can’t just assume that everyone is going to celebrate everything that you celebrate. I have three friends in the past two years lose their mother to some form of cancer. Now each of them honor their mother in their own different way, and I can’t even begin to imagine if I ever lost mine. But with that respect, I am very sensitive and careful about what I say to people, and I try my best not to assume anything. You know, its like what you learned as a little kid, “When you assume, you make an ass-outta-u.m.e.” something like that.

Now Ben didn’t offend me, but he may have offended others because I’m pretty sure I was not the first person that he reminded all day. This whole situation reminds me of when my friend took her dad with her to a bridal boutique to try on wedding dresses. Her dad was the only guy in the store, and the sales people were acting funny with him being there. Finally one chick came up to her and was like, “Where’s your mom?” I’m sure she felt dumb, when my friend’s response was, “She died.” What do you say after that, how does that make you feel? Obviously there is a reason for her dad being there. So the lesson for today is, ask, don’t assume.

Struck Out

2006-05-03T07:17:00.000-05:00

Well Texas Roadhouse Waiter (TRW) struck the fuck out. So he never called, so after three days I decided to pick up the phone. Why did I do this? So we're chit chatting, and he asks some questions about me, and then I ask about him and what he DOES. TRW says he's going to school. Thats cool, a black man trying to get his education on while working as a waiter. I can respect that. (Side note, forgot to mention buddy is 25.) So I ask where he goes to school and what he's going for. Massage Therapy. Yes, massage fuckin therapy! Can you get a degree in that? Here I am thinking this boy is getting a bachelors, or since he's 25 maybe a masters, but no he's going for a massage therapy license. I never asked if he went to a regular 4 yr college before, but what I'm about to say next makes me think that he didn't. So he's says he's in school, but isn't enrolled right now because he didn't pay his taxes last year. I'm thinking to myself, what does one have to do with the other. He informs me that the school found out and snatched up his financial aid. I was like, why didn't you pay your taxes? He said he was too busy at that time in his life and never got around to doing it. Well why the hell do you think they give you four months to file them? You mean to tell me Red Lobster (he worked at RL for a year) had you that busy that you couldn't file your damn taxes. Then TRW proceeds to tell me that he and his friend we're modeling and shit. Eyeroll.

Needless to say, I guess I'm a snob. Because I ended that conversation quick, fast, and in a hurry. He was about to cut into my 45 min nap I was going to take before gymnastics. I will not be calling him nor taking his phone calls ever again. We just aren't on the same level, and it doesn't look like we ever will be. Sorry Boo.

Holla Back

2006-05-01T09:39:00.000-05:00

I don't want to sound conceited or anything, but I've been hollered at numerous times in my lifetime. And more times than not these solicitations are unwanted. This weekend had some memorable hollers. First lets talk about the 90 year old man that hollered in church. Yes in church, and yes I said 90. I'm sure he was Pimp Nasty back back back in the day. But I was walking by this man and he gently grabs my hand to get my attention and says, "You know its against the law to be that beautiful?" How was I supposed to take that, as a compliment or that he's a dirty old man? Since we were in church, I hope it was just a nice compliment.
Then I was in the grocery story, in my pajama pants and some UGG boots minding my own business. I'm getting my rice cakes, and there is this interracial couple trying to decide on white or wheat bread. So dude walks by me and says, "Damn! You sexy." Holy shit! He's got some cojones. His white woman was standing 20 ft away. But I guess that’s why brothas are gettin with the WGs. Because they can get away with shit like that. I would have stabbed his ass right in the jugular if I heard him say that. Instead of ignoring him like I did, I should have called his ass out. But I didn't have the energy.
Now this particular event of hollering was warranted. He was our waiter at Texas Roadhouse. It was clear that he was interested from the moment he escorted us to our table. Cute guy, looks like Dondre Whitfield. You know, Vanessa's Robert from the Cosby Show, or Joan's recovering sex addict Sean on Girlfriends. Anyway after much unnecessary waiter-to-customer conversation he asks if I'm single and could he get my number. So since I just quit my best friend I decided to give up the digits. While we're still at the restaurant, he asks some questions about what I do for a living and where I live. I wanted to ask him what he did, but clearly he's a waiter, but it was the weekend so that could be part time, right, I hope. But I didn't want him to know that I'm a snob just yet. I figured we'd get into that when he called me. So here's where my impression of him goes sour, he called that same day, which was fine, but it was at 2am. I was sleep. And since its 2 am and this is your first time calling me, you should be ready to have a conversation with ME! But why was this dude talking to like 3 other people while answering the phone. He took forever to actually talk to me. Then he puts me on hold. So I hang up. He calls back again but he's still talking to some other people. Then he says he lives with his mama, which is cool since I live with my parents, but I am actively looking to be out. He says the reason he moved back home was because he and his girlfriend of 5 1/2 years just broke up in the fall. Boo. Then this dude realizes that he's too preoccupied to talk, so he says I will call you tomorrow at 10:30 when I get off of work. Here's some free advice, Don't give exact times, if you're not going to call at or around that time, or at all for that matter. You got one more strike homey, and I'm out.

Good Bye Best Friend

2006-04-30T23:17:00.000-05:00

Dear Best Friend,

I’m putting in my two week notice, I am quitting you. I don’t think we can be best friends anymore. I never wanted to be your best friend, and you know why. It was cool for a while but I’m pretty sure it won’t work out anymore.

I’m not mad at you. I don’t know how to describe my feelings. I guess what you see in me, is much different than what I see in you.

I thought your move closer to me would be the true test. Guess I didn’t study hard enough for this test because I FAILED! I told you we should take advantage of your move, and try “us” again. You said no because I was your safety friend, when really you meant to say that there was someone else. And that’s when I knew I had to quit you. Everything is fine until you know something you didn’t want to know. I appreciate your honesty this time around, this shows that you have grown and learned from your mistakes. Too bad you had to learn them on my account three years ago when you were chumming it up with that miscellaneous chick over some IHOP. And since God forgives us, I was able to forgive you and restart our relationship and become best friends. But really I’m not your best friend. I’m your best ex-girlfriend-friend trying to reactivate my service. And since that’s not looking positive, it is not realistic for me to be your best friend anymore. Please note that I love you to death and you will always have a place in my heart. I wish you nothing but the best.

Signed,

That bad lil yella

Today's Random Thoughts

2006-04-21T09:22:00.000-05:00

Here are some of todays random thoughts:

What grown ass man drinks hot coffee with a straw?
What manager asks someone to have something done for a staff meeting and doesn’t come to work the day of the staff meeting, nor does he call to say he isn’t coming in?
Who tells you to write a letter, and then changes every word that you wrote, and rewrites all of the important information incorrectly, even after everything was written correctly the first time around?
Who still wears clothes from the 80s and rocks em as if they were that hot new shit? ie jean jacket style jacket (not denim, but black & white plaid wool) with only the bottom button buttoned, and the tapered leg pants with the darted waist, and feathered bangs.
What VP retires giving the company two weeks notice?
Why do the India Indians keep tryin to holler?
Why did the Indian chick at the gym try to holler?
Why is gas back up to over $3 again, and is expected to be $4 soon?
But why did I get a free slurpee from Ishpoo, for complaining about the price of gas right after he tried to holler?
Why does America care about Tom & Kate's baby, excuse me TomKitten?
Has anyone seen High School Musical?
Why doesn't the FDA want to support Marijuana for medicinal purposes, and they decided this on 4/20 of all days?
Why did South Dakato just 5ft of snow the other day? thats nuckin futs
Why am I too cute for my job?

Government Spitters

2006-03-31T09:44:00.000-05:00

If you call someone everyday, multiple times a day, is it necessary to spit your whole government every time you call? I know its you, the caller ID already told me so. There’s this dude at work that I work closely with over the phone. We talk just about everyday, a couple of times a day. Every time he calls he announces his whole name. As if I didn’t know it was him. Is this really necessary? I say, NO. So I guess I can get him out of the habit, but just saying, “Hi Tom,” when I pick up the phone. Today I spoke with him twice already and its only 9:21. One time he had to get off the phone because he was getting another call. Why was it necessary for him to explain why he had to get off the phone? I don’t really care that a customer is calling you and you have been trying to get in contact with him for a very long time, and he is very hard to get a hold of. Just say, I will call you right back, I need to take this call. So he calls me right back, expresses his deepest regrets and proceeds to explain to me again why he had to get off the phone. We handled our business, and he closed off the conversation by telling me to have a “Sparkling Weekend.” I’ve never heard that one before. How does one have a Sparkling weekend? Does that mean that it’s a clean one, or maybe a blinged out one? Does anyone know because I would like to respect his wishes.

On another note, have you ever done business regularly with someone solely over the phone never meeting them in person? You hear their voice frequently and you have created this picture of them in your head, kinda like listening to radio personalities on the radio. Isn’t it shocking to see what they actually look like when you finally see them in person? The pictures in my head are never accurate with reality. And it kinda pisses me off when the people don’t look how I envisioned them to. But as soon I hear their voice again my mind goes right back to the original picture. Isn’t that weird, or am I the only one.

Church's Chicken vs Salmon & Crawfish Etouffe

2006-03-30T10:51:00.000-05:00

When you are about to break bread to celebrate someone’s accomplishments, life (both birth and death), wedding, anniversary, poopy in the potty or whathaveyou, who would you ask about what should be included on the menu? Now this is just my opinion, but I would think you would and should ask the person that you are celebrating.

Now let me take you back to almost two years ago. The day was May 9, 2004. This was a very big day for me. It was my graduation from the illustrious Hampton University. Some would think that thinking about this day would bring back happy memories. Well here we are two years later and I still get very angry thinking about it.

Tell em why you mad son……………..

So my family & co. have driven/flown/swam down to Hampton, VA from all parts of the country to celebrate MY day. Please keep in mind that this is my day that we are celebrating here, no one else’s. It was already an emotional day for me because administration said that all the girls had to wear black dresses, which I thought was stupid because no one was ever going to see what I had on under my gown. So me being the rule follower that I am, I stressed out about finding a black dress. Well since I was looking for one, I couldn’t find one that I liked. So after hours of looking my mother and my grandmother pick a dress that I was not particularly fond of but went with it because I didn’t want to look anymore. So the day started out with me wearing a dress that I hated, on the day that I was going to be celebrating my graduation, and many pictures were going to be taken of me in this hideous dress. I was also emotional because I didn’t have a job yet, and I was going to be leaving my friends of 3 and 4 years. Then we sit through the most boring graduation ceremony where Harvey spoke for forever about God knows what. Why did we get the lame speaker and the class before us got Bill Cosby, although his speech wasn’t the best, but I can remember what he spoke about. The only thing that saved our ceremony was T. I. M. L. E. E. His speech was off the chain. Moving on. So we proceed to our department graduation and get our degrees. Now this is just an assumption of mine, but after you get your degree doesn’t your family wait for you and say congratulations and take pictures and say I love you, you did great, we’re so proud and happy we don’t have to pay your tuition anymore. Well at least that’s how I envisioned MY graduation day to be. But nope that is not quite how it went down. This is how it happened; after getting everyone got their degree we were dismissed. So I’m scurrying to find family & co. Well they are no where to be found in the building. So I go outside to look, still I see no one. I just so happen to see my father w/o any family or co. members, running his mouth with some random man as he’s walking away from the building. So I chase after him. “Where is everyone?” I ask. “They walked back to you house to change,” he says. Oh the pistivity has risen in my soul, and the attitude on 11. These people have lost their mind. Why wouldn’t they wait for ME???? I’m getting mad and teary eyed while I write this. So since I’m at work, I’m going to take a break and do some work.

Alright I’m back. So me and my father walk back to the Harbors, while I cuss everyone out in my head for leaving me at MY own graduation. Then one by one they come out the house and take some lame pictures with me. Rolling my eyes.

So my parents and grandmother decided to make a vacation out my graduation, and decided to trade in their timeshare for one in Williamsburg. So we all drive down to Williamsburg where we are going to have a mini graduation party surrounded by a home cooked meal for all of these people. My godmother would be the one in charge of preparing the meal since she has her own catering business. Alright so since there are so many of us, a grocery list was made and divided in half. Half of us would go to Sam’s and the other half would go to Food Lion. So my godmother, grandmother, and sister go to Food Lion, and my mother, my aunt, my play aunt & play cousin and me go to Sam’s. We are walking through Sam’s and I notice salmon, and asparagus are some of the things being thrown into the cart. I think to myself, “Self last time I checked, I don’t like fish, I especially hate salmon with a passion and I really cannot stand the taste of asparagus.” So I keep asking my mother, the woman who has known me for 22 years, what else is on this menu. She can’t seem to answer the question, and seems to be annoyed that I keep asking question. But why is she annoyed. This is MY graduation dinner, and I don’t see anything in this cart that I eat. And not one single person has asked me what I wanted to eat. So she calls my godmother, since she made the list and consulted with no one on what will be on the menu. Come to find out she will be making grilled salmon with a crawfish etouffe. WITF?!?! I don’t eat that mess. Oh I am pissed right now. I don’t like my food grilled, I don’t eat etoufee especially with some crawfish up in it, and I don’t eat no friggin aspagrassssss. Attitude is about a 15 now. So my mother still doesn’t seem to understand why I’m mad. I’m mad because this is MY day, and I wasn’t asked what I wanted to eat, and then you let her make a menu full of things I don’t eat, and I had to wear this ugly dress, and I’m moving away from all of my friends. So then she asked what I wanted. Why doesn’t she know? I ask for the same thing every birthday and every time I came home from school. FRIED CHICKEN, MOTHER. All I want is fried chicken. For the last 22 years that is what I always ask for. So this argument is going on in the meat department. Are you ready for what's about to happen next? Can you believe this woman had the nerve to turn around a pick up a ROTISSERIE CHICKEN and put it in the cart as if it would suffice. That threw me over the edge. And I stormed out of the store with attitude at 20 and boohoo crying. I was like a two yr old throwing a temper tantrum. My aunt tried to come out and give me a pep talk, and tell me all these people came out here because they love me and they were proud of me and I needed to snap out of it and not ruin the weekend. Is she serious? Weekend was already ruined. I was grateful that everyone came, but I was not happy that they everyone was going to be eating some fancy schmancy 5 star meal while I eat a greasy rotisserie chicken on MY day GOTDAMN. I told her to tell my mother to take the chicken out of the basket, and I wasn’t eating.

So we go back to the resort and I get a call from a friend, who was also having a bad graduation day. Her father went back home and left her because she wasn’t finished packing. He said he’d come back to get her in a couple of days. Now that’s messed up. So my play aunt decides we should go back to campus, which is an hour away, to pick up my friend who’s having a bad day. So we ride out. On the way back I decide I want some fried chicken to bring back, low and behold there is a Church’s Chicken on the way back. We get back to the resort and we walk up in there with a bucket of chicken and a case of Coronas, ready to eat. We’re looking around and everyone is just sitting around looking full and sleepy. Can you believe that these people ate without us, ME more importantly? What was the point of having a graduation dinner anyway?

But to give credit to my creators aka the ‘rents, when we got back to CT and my sister had her high school graduation, they threw us the bangin joint graduation party. Where the home made fried chicken and liquor was abundant. Holler holler.

Is it wrong…….

2006-03-30T07:57:00.000-05:00

That I rolled up in my Corporate America job bumpin the Hustle & Flow Soundtrack today and the new TI yesterday?
Is it wrong that my grandmother sent me the Hustle & Flow Soundtrack for my birthday because its hard out here for a pimp?
Is it wrong that I will listen to both of those in addition to Juvenile today on my MP3 player while at my Corporate America job?
Is it wrong that I’m at work now bloggin about things being wrong and I just finished filing my nails?
Is it????

i have returned

2006-03-24T15:55:00.000-05:00

I’ve been gone for a while. I guess I’ve had nothing exciting to talk about. So this will be the random thought blog.

I have a “mini me.” She’s almost ten and she’s white. Well I don’t know what she is. I think I will put her in the “one drop” category. So I’ma call her tan. Here’s why I call her my mini me: her name is Ashley, she’s an Aries (our birthdays are a week apart), she’s a gymnast and a dancer, she models, she’s extra dramatic and conceited and is really into fashion. If that’s not me, I don’t know what is. One day she looked at me and said, “We look like we could be related because we both have dark skin” What?!?!!? Doesn’t she know I’m black, no wait, doesn’t she know she’s white? Maybe she isn’t. What white person do you know, that describes other white people by the hue of their skin. This little chick described another white girl as having “light” skin, not pale, she said light, and she just said we both have “dark” skin, not olive, you know how they say olive. If anyone wants to see what this chick looks like, go to the kid’s section at Target, and look at the Xhilaration swimsuit tags. That’s her.

So I call Lil Miss Ashley last night to arrange her private gymnastics lesson, and her mom says she can’t do it tonight because she [Ashley] is having a dinner party. What in the hell, why is this 9 almost 10 year old is having a dinner party? I’m not even gonna front, that’s a cute idea, and if I have a little girl I’m gonna let her have dinner parties on Wednesdays, and tea parties on Sunday afternoons. That’s hot.

Now we have this other little chick at gymnastics named Emma, she’s seven. The other day she asked me, “Are you from Africa?” At first I was shocked by the question, took a second and said, “No, I’m from Glastonbury.” Really wanting to say, “Are you from Jerusalem?” or “I’m not from there, but your great great grandparents brought my great great grandparents here shackled to the bottom of a ship” But I figured that would be ignorant, and she’s only seven so the conversation would have been pointless. But I continued on by saying, “No I’m not from Africa, but my dad is, he came here when he was four.” This is the response from the other children, “Wow really? Does he speak Swahili?” Do they think that’s all Africans speak? That’s like asking all Europeans if they speak French. I said, “No, he speaks English.” End of story. They must be learning about Africa in history and geography.

I went to see the Color Purple on Wednesday. It was absolutely fabulous. I took my mom for her birthday. She almost fell out when I asked her to go. She had to call my dad, and say, “Oh my gosh our baby is all grown up now. She’s got a job. She can afford to take both me and her to a Broadway show.” Two of her good friends came along too. We had a wonderful time. Makes me want to do something like that once a quarter. I will be going to see “Raisin in the Sun” at the local theatre here this weekend.

I saw the funniest ish while I was in Dallas. My “cousin”, also known as my aunt’s ugly ass dog Jae-lee (or something like that), had us dying laughing We were trying to tell her to get in the car, both of the side doors were open, and the dog decides to run around to the back. She takes a few preparation steps back, as if she’s about to do the high jump, and then runs full force head first into the back door of the truck. She stays perched up on the bumper for a second, and then falls off in slow motion with embarrassment. What a dumbass dog. She’s an ugly shar-pei that my aunt got from a rescue league. This dog has all types of problems. She’s got allergies, so she has to take benadryl every day with her American cheese. She has scratched her cornea, she’s been bitten by fire ants, and had heart worms. Now these are just the problems that I can remember. Something is always wrong with her. One time she had to wear a cone.

Then last year during the holidays, while we still had our dog Moet, Jae-lee was at our house. Well Moet didn’t like Jae-lee too much. So while Jae-lee was asleep, Moet came up and bit her right in the ass and walked away. Needless to say my aunt was pissed, packed up her things and left out.

I don’t really have too much more to write about, which really means my work day is about to be over in 7 minutes, so I’ve gotta get the hell up out of here because its Friday. Hopefully I will come back before another month passes. Holler holler!!!

embracing my culture

2006-03-24T15:45:00.000-05:00

So I embraced my Cape Verdean culture last week. I felt that since I’m almost 24 I should finally attempt to make an authentic pot of Munchup (pronounced mun-choop) which is CV’s national food. So one day bored at work, I decided to research different Munchup recipes. I found three that I really liked, but couldn’t decide on one, so I combined all three.
You’re probably wondering what a munchup is. Well it’s a thick stew that can be served at many occasions, and can feed many many people. Depending on which island you are from, it can be called several different things: Munchup, Cachup, Cachupa, or cachupa rica. Based on the ingredients in one particular pot (caldera) of munchup will help you gage the economic makeup of that household.
So here is what I put in my munchup: pork chops, linguica (almost like chorizo) lima beans, pink beans, kale, butternut squash, samp (dried corn, almost like hominy, main ingredient in munchup) onion and garlic.
I was extremely nervous at first because I didn’t want to mess it up, and of course my father laughed when I said I was making it. He was like, “How about you just make a little pot.” Was he doubting my ability? Just for that, I used the biggest pot we have.
Now munchup is not one of those quick and easy soups. Munchup takes hours of cooking. Especially if you use dry beans. Well I didn’t know you could use canned beans because every recipe called for dry beans, and that’s what I always saw my grandmother use. My father broke the news to me. He said that’s so old school. Next time use canned beans and we wont have to wait all day for the chup (that’s what he calls it) to cook. So he’s doubted me, then he smells how good it is, and now he’s rushing it. I’m annoyed, especially since he wants to give feedback for a meal he has never once attempted to prepare. Boo! Well anyway my chup was bangin. It tasted almost as good as my grandmother’s. My father was all over it like white on rice. Then I call my hater sister to tell her about it, and she didn’t believe me. Here we are one week later and that heffa was asking me where to get a recipe and what ingredients I used so she could make some for her and her funky ass boyfriend. Bet it wont as good as mine.

I'm So Fly RIght Now

2006-02-24T08:42:00.000-05:00

Can I just explain my flyness right now. I new haircut is sooo cute, its making me even cuter than I was pre-haircut. Hahah its enhancing my cutness. I think I'm more hype about my hair than The von Kutieboots herself. As she would say, "Yeah, I'm on my dick a little bit but if you had hair like me, you'd be on your ish too." I'm crackin up. I just don’t know what to do with myself. So I found a new hairdresser after my disaster on Tuesday. I should have never let that lady cut my hair in the first place, but hey you live and you learn. But let me explain to you how bad this first haircut was. I came to work both Wednesday and Thursday, and not one single person said anything about my haircut. You know how you do when you notice something new about someone and its not worth mentioning so you just act like you don’t notice. Well that’s how bad my hair was. It didn’t even look like I paid someone $70 to do it. Nothing about my hair looked like I had just gotten it done. So this new chick did wonders on my hair. I actually have a style now. You know its bad when the new hairdresser looks at my hair and asks, “Wow. You got this done two days ago? Please don’t tell me you got it done in Glastonbury.” Its also bad when the black lady at the front desk said nothing about my hair for the past two days. But when I walked in this morning she stopped me at the door. She had me turning around so she could see it from all angles, and she was just so excited about it. And you know I lookeded, yeah I said lookeded good when I was talking to her, her phone rang. It was the guard outside at the guard post calling to ask who I was. Oh shoot!

Going Bald

2006-02-22T13:58:00.000-05:00

So here’s the quick version. I cut my hair really short in the beginning of 2004, and by the beginning of 2005 I decided I wanted to grow my hair back out. So I was going to this particular hairdresser every two weeks for like 6 months and all of a sudden I noticed my hair was shedding a lot more than usual. But didn’t think anything of it until I went to her again and she said that I had some breakage and it must have been me scratching my head. I wasn’t scratching any differently than I had for the past 23 years. So I began monitoring my hands touching my head. The next time I went she said it was getting worse. But how could this be, since I was being more conscientious. But she decided I should put some highlights in my hair. Not really sure how highlights would solve the problem. Guess she thought it would camouflage the breakage. I’ve always been afraid to put color in my hair, for fear that it would break off. I should have gone with my gut. I think I went to her one more time after that, and she continued saying that I was scratching my head. After that visit, I noticed my hair coming out in clumps. That was it. I am fired the lady.

There was no way I could scratch my hair to create damage like that. I would have had to have had my head dragged across the floor. I started going to a new lady, and she said I had patches all over my head. But she couldn’t tell if it had been over processed or if I had something wrong with me, like anemia. So I decided to go to the doctor to see what the problem was. Big mistake. Why did I think a white doctor would be able to diagnose my black hair problem? She suggested that I discontinue putting a relaxen in my hair. No that’s not a typo, she said relaxen. I told her that wasn’t going to happen. She asked, “What would happen if you didn’t get a relaxen? It would curl up……?” I just rolled my eyes, and said, “Yeah something like that.” Her response, “What's the matter, you don’t like your hair like that?” Once again my eyes roll, “No, I don’t.” She takes my blood, and sends it to get tested. She called the next day to say nothing was wrong with me. Now back to the original thought. That lady over processed my hair, probably didn’t rinse the relaxer out properly and then put horrible blonde highlights in it, and it all broke off. So now I’m walking around with damaged hair. One side much thicker than the other. I was at gymnastics, and the little pilgrim children have always been fascinated my hair, since its different from theirs. Always asking if I put mousse or gel or hairspray in my hair. So this one particular day, the little girl was saying how much she loved my hair. Then she goes around to the back and says, “Um Ash, why is your hair longer on one side.” So now I have to explain to this little pilgrim child what happened. I say, “Its really traumatic, I had to get my hair chemically straightened and the hairdresser left the chemicals in too long and my hair fell out. Now I have to take hair vitamins. I don’t want to talk about it anymore!” Oh yeah, so now I have to take these $25 vitamins so this mess will grow back.

So the new hairdresser says she can’t cut my hair just yet because it’s too many different lengths, and the shortest patch is too short. Yesterday, three months have gone by and we [hairdresser and I] have decided that its long enough to cut. I go in not know what kind of style I want because I don’t know how short the shortest piece is. So I put all my trust in this woman to cut my hair. Why did I come out of there looking like that hideous wig J. Lo wore in “Enough.” So I wasn’t really feeling this style she gave me, and her curling ability was not up to par. It looked like I did it myself, in a rush. She left it too long in the back and on the sides. This morning after much fussing, I no longer look like J. Ho but still would like a new style. Needless to say, I will be finding a new stylist tomorrow.

Frivolous Conversation

2006-02-20T15:00:00.000-05:00

Is it really necessary to talk to co-workers. Well I really don’t want to call them co-workers, because that would mean that you work with them, and I don’t. These people just sit near me. Let me just explain how our workspaces are set up. We all work in this corridor of offices. There are six of us. I am the only young person, only female and the only black person. Also I sit in the first office in the corridor, which means everyone has to walk by my office to get to their own and has become the invitation for unnecessary conversation. I really have a problem with people just wasting my time to talk about nothing. If you have nothing to say, just say hello and move on.

On Fridays, is it really necessary to say, “Are you ready for the weekend?” I’m gonna go with, no its not necessary. Who really says that they aren’t ready for the weekend? And since no one says they aren’t ready, there really is no need to ask the question. So the dumbass next door asks me that question every Friday, like the answer might change. And acts dumbfounded every time, I say, “Um yes actually I am and will be looking forward to it again on Monday.” Harharhar and the fake laughter begin. Now get the f up outta here. And I really hate when random people ask if you have any plans. That’s not your business since I don’t know you like that, and we will not be joining in on any of the same activities.

When I first started working here, being the nosy person that I am I would always look up when somebody walked by. I have quickly learned that that’s not a good idea. When you look up and give eye contact, they think that means come on in, lets shoot the shit. I no longer look up and I don’t give eye contact, now the visitations have cut down. I really don’t care that you have water around your knee, I really don’t care that you kids started playing soccer, I really don’t want any posters from Japan, I don’t want to buy any girl scout cookies or sponsor your damn walkathon, I don’t care that your kid got kicked out of the dorm, and I sure as hell don’t care how your weekend or your vacation was. This is just unnecessary commentary. I don’t know you like that, and I’m not trying to get to know you either. There’s this one dude that works over here, and he never speaks to me and I never speak to him. I like him, a lot. We have an understanding, and we respect the fact that we don’t need to waste breath just because. We’re on a hi and bye basis.

But why have we been trained to ask people how their weekends, vacations or breaks are? No one really cares, so why do we ask?

Ridin’ dolo lookin like a ragamuffin

2006-02-17T11:43:00.000-05:00

So I have taken my own advice that I lent to Jameil a few weeks back. I’ve gone out solo a few times in the past week. In my opinion going out dolo is liberating. But in the same breath I don’t mind going out with a group either. There are just some annoyances when you have a posse with you. When you are solo, you don’t have to wait on anyone, you go where you want when you want, leave when you want, park where you want, and there are no worries. I notice when I go out by myself, I have a tendency to not really care what I look like. I go for the “I just dropped in on my way from somewhere” look, which usually contains some sneakers and some bum weekend wear-around-the-house outfit. Please don’t get it twisted, I’m still fly while lookin like a ragamuffin, I’m still color coordinated.

So last Saturday I went to my friend’s going away party. Since no one else was available to go with, I decided to ride out by myself. I had a blast. I came straight from a gymnastics meet so I was wearing the black velour sweatsuit, pink polo, and black & pink sneakers. Got there and everyone was all suited up, well not really suited. But you know how instead of dudes buyin a blazer they just wear a suit jacket. So these dudes were in there in half of their work attire, tie and all, jeans and church shoes. Girls were wearing skirts and dresses with no stockings. Please keep in mind this is the night the blizzard was going to begin, 2 feet of snow in our future. I had no intentions of changing into something more appropriate. So here’s Miss Ashli showing up to this shindig looking like a ragamuffin, and doesn’t really give a good cookie. Hey I was comfortable and having a good time. The bad part about riding dolo, is that everyone keeps asking you where your friends are and who you came with. Who gives a shit? I’m here. So I had to answer that question all night, “Where your girls at?” Blah blah blah.

So last night I decided to go salsa dancing, alone. I haven’t been in like 2 months since the ankle sprain incident. So I decided to show my face, and once again I didn’t give a happy rat’s what I put on. I grabbed some ultra tight stretch jeans, the ones from my junior year of college, a pink baby tee, and the infamous black & pink sneakers. Anybody who knows anybody, knows you can’t salsa dance in sneakers. And anybody who knows me, knows I don’t wear sneakers. I just got my first pair since I went to college in 2000, when I joined the gym in November. When I first started salsa dancing I would get all dolled up, and wear some heels. Because that’s what you do when you go social dancing. Then I started taking some classroom training, no one sent me the memo regarding classroom attire. On the first day I stepped in there in some cute gauchos, tank top, chandelier earrings, and some 3 inch heel sandals. You couldn’t tell me I wasn’t fly. Why was everyone in there in some sneakers, and sweats. I was lookin quite the fool. One of the teachers came up to me and was like, how are you going to dance in those. What?!?! I can dance in them when I go out, what's the problem. She suggested getting some flat jazz shoes. I went out and got them right away. Now back to my story. I also didn’t feel like wearing a coat, so I wore some random black blazer, and I didn’t want to carry a purse either. So I crammed everything I might need in my ultra tight jean pockets: cash, debit card, ID, cell phone, carmex, and keys.

Upon my arrival, I b-lined straight to the bar, and ordered a Vodka Tonic. I have no clue why. I barely even drink anymore, its Thursday, I drove, and I never drink when I salsa dance. But I went for it anyway. I figured since I was alone, I needed something to make me look busy. I finally get Special-Ed bartender’s attention. He was such a loser. So I tell him what I want. He asks what kind of vodka I want. I look around, and I don’t see any Goose, so I asked if he had any. Of course he says yes, and proceeds to pour Belvedere. Dumbass! But I let it slide, at least he didn’t confuse it with Smirnoff or some plastic bottle shit. Now its time for payment, I hand him my debit card. He asks if I want to open a tab. I say no, close it. He rings me up, and hands me the receipt. Then this fool says, “You know it would probably be easier if you opened a tab. You could keep it open and we’ll hold your card, and you could close at the end of the night.” Did I look stupid to him? I know what the Fluck a tab is. And I only wanted one drink. Dumbass. I guess I should have showed him my bartending school badge. Idiot.

I had a seat and drank my V&T. Once I finish I decided to get up and dance. Ooo I’m feelin tipsy off of one drink. This is pathetic. So this dude from my class asks me to dance. Note to self, sneakers are not the move. So not sexy, and make you look so clumsy. Or could it have been that vodka tonic, or the lack of dancing for two months. Either way, bad combination. And another bad combo is, salsa dancing, with hair that needs perming. I had just ran the flat iron through that mess after going to step aerobics. Then dancing for about 30 minutes made those roots swell right back up. I caught a glimpse of my hair in the mirror, and said, “Excuse me sir, I gots to go.” And I dipped out.

You know how after you drink you get the munchies. Well on the ride home, I was feelin a bit peckish and remembered I had some mini caramel rice cakes in the car. Those are bangin! Anyway I almost drove off the rode trying to get my hand out of the bag. But that concludes my night, I was probably out for no more than an hour and a half. But I had fun, Alone.

the white haircut vs. the black haircut

2006-02-15T14:53:00.000-05:00

Why is that when white guys get a haircut they look like little boys, and when the Negro man gets a haircut he look so fly??? I don't know what it is, but a crispy edge up is so sexy to me. A sharp shape up can really clean a guy up. Thats just my opinion. I began to appreciate that at work this week, when I noticed all the white dudes got their monthly haircut this week and they look like junior high kids in some wrinkled ass khakis. You know they only get their haircut once a month as opposed to their black counterparts, who go to the barbershop every 3 to 7 days for some type of maintenance. I guess that good ol HU made me more aware of this. HU home of the, i was going to say homos, but I will say pretty dudes instead.

Broken Groin

2006-02-13T15:18:00.000-05:00

I have decided Michelle Kwan is an old washed up selfish has-been. Ok I’m sorry, I know that was a bit harsh but that’s how I feel right now. But honestly Ms Kwan needs to realize there comes an age when you are too old to do certain things, like…I don’t know...ice skate. You may still be able to ice skate, but you just can’t perform the way you could 8 years ago. Take it from me. I know. Yeah I’m in denial about it, but I do know. Every time I’m coaching gymnastics I come to the realization that I’m too old to be demonstrating because I wake up in the morning in extreme pain. Up until two months ago, you couldn’t tell me I couldn’t do everything I was able to do in high school. I was showing this girl how to a move and all of a sudden Miss Ashli was laid out on the floor with a sprained ankle. And everyone’s response was, “You’re too old. You can do tricks anymore.” Ain’t that some bullshit? Well anyway the same goes for you Michelle. You’re too old Boo. You can’t triple axle anymore because you keep pulling your groin, and you keep pulling your groin because you’re old. When you were too hurt to make it to the Olympic trials that should have been a sign to retire. But oh no, you had to go and petition. They felt bad for you and let your ass back in, knocking that poor little girl out of the running. Come to find out, she wasn’t completely healed when she petitioned and didn’t perform to the best of her ability. What in the hell?? If she was hurt then and didn’t do well in her tryout why in the hell would you send her monkey ass to Turin???? Michelle, Stop trying to hog the Olympics, you’ve already been twice and you didn’t win. Second place is the first loser Homie!!! So this chick packs her bags and gets a free trip to Italy. Gets all the way there and pulls her groin again. Are you serious? She didn’t need to go in the first place. So now they have to call the young chick back, and tell her guess what you can come now. I’m sure that girl has been sitting at home crying for the past month because her dreams had been stomped all over. I hope she goes out there and gets the gold and they send Michelle’s ass back home to watch it on TV. Do you know these people asked her to be the Women’s Ice Skating commentator for the Games? Of course she can so no to that opportunity down, but she didn’t have the balls to say she had a broken groin and was too old to go to the Olympics. Whatever.

So What’s the Going Rate?

2006-02-09T14:57:00.000-05:00

I am 23, going on 24, graduated college and have been working in Corporate America for over a year and a half now, and I coach gymnastics part time.

So it’s that time of year for Girl Scout cookies, and one of my gymnasts asked me to buy a box. I have no idea how one box of Caramel Delights turned into four. I must have been in a charitable mood. It was about the time for the deliveries, and I had a missed call on the caller ID from the Girl Scout gymnast’s house. But they didn’t leave a message. I assumed they were calling about coordinating the cookie payment/pickup. So the following week at practice I asked the girl why her mom called. Alright so here’s the reason, are you ready, she said it was because her mom was looking for a babysitter. I know I immediately had a look of perplexity on my face. Baby-sit?!?! Was she serious? I haven’t babysat in 10 years. So I asked, “Are you serious?” She replied, “Yes.” And I said still confused, “Oh ok. Did you find one?” “Yea, Katie babysat us.” FYI, Katie is another girl on the team, and is 14. So I can look at this situation in a few different ways. Either the mother thinks I’m still in high school, which I can understand, I do have a young face. But I feel like we’ve had the whole college and working conversation. She must have forgotten. Or she may have asked her kids who they wanted to baby-sit, and my name was on the top of their list. Who knows. I just hope that the second one was the reason.

Now a whole week has gone by, and I run into the mother. She asks, “I want to ask you a question. Do you baby-sit?” Oh my gosh, she need another one? I say, “I haven’t in a really long time.” Really long time being 10 years, and I don’t even know what to do with children. “Well if you aren’t busy tonight, can you baby-sit?” she says. So I think to myself, Why not, I have absolutely nothing to do. Go for it. Make that money. I say to her, “I’m available, what time do you need me?” “Seven.” she says. And to make her aware that I’m not that young, well at least over the age of 16, I tell her jokingly, “You don’t even have to pick me up.” She looked at me with such happiness and said, “That’s great, I’ll see you at 7 then. The girls will be so excited, go tell them.” Holy crap, what have I done? Aren’t I too old for this? Who asks a 23 yr old who goes to work every day, to baby-sit their kids? I feel like I’ve job eliminated some poor little high school girl. Do I let them pay me? I feel bad making a salary and letting these people pay me to sit there and watch their kids. I don’t even know the going rate these days. I’m so out of the loop.

So it’s almost 7:00, so I leave my house. These people live in the friggin middle of no where. It’s raining, and there are no lights on their street. They have a hidden driveway, and their house in this wooded area clustered with two other houses that have no numbers on them. How in the hell am I supposed to know which house is theirs? So now I have to call them to see, because I’m not knocking on some random person’s door. Now I’m trying to find their phone number on this tiny torn off piece of receipt paper that the mother gave me. I called, and no one answered. WTF?!?! How are they not going to answer, I know they didn’t just leave their kids home alone. So I drive up to the next house but there are no lights on. So I call again. Finally the father answers and says, “Oh yeah, it’s the blue with all the lights on.” Great, why didn’t they just say that instead of telling me the house number is 20, and there isn’t even a number 20 on their house.

Finally I get in the house, and I sit down and talk to the kids. The first questions that they ask are, “How old are you and do you live with your parents or do you have an apartment?” Interesting, Mom must want to know how old I really am. So I say, “I’m almost 24, and I still live at home, and I plan on moving out soon.” A few minutes later, the parents are ready to leave, and they come discuss the rules and bedtimes and blah blah blah. Now the mother says, “We shouldn’t be home later than 11. Do you have a curfew?” WHAT?!?!?! “No ma’am I do not I have a curfew,” once again said with perplexity written all over my face.

So anyway this was a pretty simple babysitting gig, with children I enjoyed but I have no desire to make this a frequent thing. We played Scrabble Junior, Scrapbooked, and watched Legally Blonde and Miss Congeniality. YEAH, GIRL POWER!!!! So now the children have gone off to sleep, and now I’m sitting there debating on accepting any money from them. This debate did not last too long. The parents got home, we shot the shit for a while, and then the father hands me a wad of cash as he’s off to bed. Had it been one bill, I may have told them to forget about it, this one’s on me. But nope, it was a wad. Remember I told you I haven’t babysat in 10 years, and back then, to me $20 was a lot no matter how long I was there. And that’s what I was expecting. So I’ve got this wad in my hand, but I don’t want to look down to see how much it was. In my head I was saying, “It’s probably just a 20 and 5 ones, maybe a 10.” Boy was I surprised when I got to the car. That man gave me 60 bucks. That may not seem like a lot to ya’ll, but I was extremely surprised, and might even make a habit out of this. Shit, they can keep thinking I’m in high school. What?!?! Sixty bucks to just sit around all night. You can call me Mary friggin Poppins!

Excuse me, Split the what?!?!?

2006-01-25T23:21:00.000-05:00

Alright so let me take you back about six months. It was my first week on the job, and a familiar face walks by my desk. It was, let’s call him Jerome, this dude I met six months earlier. Come to find out, he works down the hall. Anyway “Jerome” goes by, let’s say “Lloyd” at work. Now I gotta give you some brief history. We met at a happy hour. I thought he was a nice looking well dressed guy. I could tell by his shoes that he wasn’t from Hartford, or up north for that matter (he’s from ATL).Guys up here don’t really have the best shoe sense. If you don’t already know, I like guys that can dress. What can I say, I went to Hampton. So back to “Jerome” he’s tres metro, now that I look back I think he’s sitting on the cusp of gaydom. Anyway, we got to talking, and then decided to go out to dinner later that week. The date was alright, and realized there was no chemistry. We never spoke again, until we ran into each other at work.

Ok, so here we are having the usual frivolous conversation that people have when they haven’t seen you in a while. Then “Lloyd” decides that we should go to lunch sometime. So sometime arrives, and I’m headed to Wendy’s to lunch, and ask if he’d like to tag along. *Please note: key phrase is “tag along” meaning everyone pays their own way. * Moving on. Lunch was fine, other than the fact that we were in mid conversation and “Jerome” (he’s Jerome now that we are out of the office) reaches over the table, grabs my hands and says, “Let us pray………….Amen,” and then proceeds right back into the conversation. There was no, “Excuse me, let’s bless the food,” nope none of that, he just went right into it. Which is fine, I have no problem with praying, but I was just caught off guard. But then I had a flashback of when he had done this before, when he had taken me out to dinner that time. There were also a few other things that he did that night that had caught me off guard. His behavior could have been because he was ten years older than me, or because he was from the Southern Gentleman, or because he’s just a male chauvinistic asshole, who really knows. In addition to the abrupt prayer, he made me sit with my back to the door, so he could “watch my back,” I’ve never had some man tell me what side of the table I can and can’t sit on. He ordered my food, and no he didn’t ask me what I wanted and told the waitress, nope he said, “Do you like chicken? Oh ok”, and kept it movin from there. Then he kept tryin to hold my hands from across the table, and then he got up and sat on my side of the table. He was trippin! Then this man felt the need to touch my face. Oh Hell No! I don’t know you like that. I really don’t like people touching my face. So I told him I don’t like that, and I don’t want my face to break out, and you know what this fool said, “Its ok, you should use this soap (I can’t remember what it was called, something like Purpose), that’s what I use.” Was he serious. So now I can just let you and every Tom, Dick, and Harry with greasy chicken stained fingers touch my face because I can now go home and wash it with Purpose Soap, recommended by Jerome himself. F that! Now don’t you understand why there was no love connection after this date.

Alright so it’s about a month after having lunch at Wendy’s, and I have pissed off my mother at home, and she has told me I now need to buy my own groceries. FYI I live at home with the parents. So with my new responsibility of grocery buying, I have decided to bring my lunch to work. Now I get this email from Lloyd asking me my plans for lunch. I respond by letting him know that I brought my lunch, and ask if he would like to join me in the café. He is totally opposed to my idea. He wants to go out to lunch. Thinking that he would want to go to one of the many fast food restaurants like everyone else in the office, I suggest going along with him and taking my lunch with me. He’s opposed to that idea as well. He wants to sit down and eat at a slow food restaurant. ***Please remember this part*** I ask where, and his response was something like, “It’s a surprise, and I would really like you to join me, how about you save your lunch for tomorrow.” Since he seemed a little anxious, I agreed to save my lunch and met him at his desk at lunchtime.

We have now driven past every restaurant in the area, and have now been on the freeway for quite a while. Where is this dude taking me? So we finally get off the exit and we pull into a friggin Cracker Barrel. Now is Cracker Barrel really surprise worthy? I think not, nor is it worth spending 30 minutes of my lunch break traveling to and from. But whatever.

When the waitress takes us to our table, I purposely go for the seat facing the door. Immediately I am reprimanded for grabbing that seat. He says, “Baby you know I have to sit on this side, I have to watch your back.” Of course my eyes roll, and I get up to sit on the other side. So now his back is directly in front of the window. Now if some crazy person decides to come through that window, I will make sure not to let him know.

While we were looking over the menu, Lloyd has told me that I really should order the grilled chicken tenders and to make sure to get the honey mustard. He was lucky that I didn’t really see anything else on the menu that sounded appetizing, because this reminded me of the first time we went out and he just ordered and didn’t ask me what I wanted .

So now we’re talking and the subject of high school sports has come up. He asked if I did any sports, and I told him I did gymnastics and I danced. So this dumbass’ response was, “So basically no, you didn’t do any sports.” Whoa! Who was he talking to?

Me: Are you serious?
Lloyd: Yes. Gymnastics isn’t a sport is it.
Me: Why isn’t it? Just because it’s not a contact sport, if its not basketball of foot ball, its not a sport??? And it is a very difficult sport, can you do it?
Lloyd: I just don’t think it’s considered a sport.

I’m pissed at this point, I’m hot and I’m starting to yell. How is he going to tell me that gymnastics, the passion I’ve had for 20yrs, is not a sport. Was he crazy? So I have now involved the waitress in this debate. I ask her, and she is dumbfounded by the question. She said, “That’s hard…..” I didn’t let her finish. So now I’m pissed at her. “What do you mean that’s hard?” She was like, “I was trying to say that that’s a hard sport. It must be a sport, its in the Olympics.” Excellent, someone is on my side.

The food has come out, and I finished my food before him. Of course he has made a comment about that. Basically insinuating that it’s not ladylike to eat so fast. But I guess he would know since he is borderline gay himself. So in my time waiting for him to finish eating, I started playing that peg game. You know that game that they have a Cracker Barrel. He told me to stop playing. I asked why. And he said, “Because I want you to stop. Not a good enough reason. So I told him, “No you aren’t my father, I will keep on playing until I’m done.” And I did just that.

Once he finally finished, the waitress brought out the check. He grabbed it not ever showing it to me and we proceeded to the register. So I stood off to the side while he paid, until I heard this motherfather tell the cashier, “SPLIT THE CHECK.” WTF?!?!?!!? Was this dude serious? He was. Ya’ll should have seen my face. Oh shit! I just got played, Hard! I didn’t even try to play it off. You know how girls do, you know how when you’re out with a guy friend, but its not a date, and you pretend to pull out the wallet, but you have no intentions of paying because you just know he’s got it. Well I didn’t even do that this time, I just this guy was paying, just because of the way he asked me to lunch. He practically begged me to go. He made me save my lunch. Dumbfluck! I was so pissed and in such shock. So I had two options: option 1 I could go off on the bastard and be totally ignorant in public, not pay my half and get left at the restaurant, and have this man talk shit about me back at the office, or option 2 suck it up and pay my half, never speak to him again and talk shit about him when I get back to the office. I opted for option two. Later I was pissed at myself for not cussing his lame ass out. But why waste the breath. Alright so after I swallowed my pride and paid, the asshole has the nerve to go back into the Southern Gentleman role. Now its ladies first, and he motions for me to walk ahead. So I walk fast, and make it to the front door first, and I let myself out. But I hear him calling my name, but I act like I cant hear him and walk to the car. You know he had the nerve to say he wanted to hold the door. How in the hell can you be a part time gentleman? You either are or you aren’t, ain’t no half stepping.

So I never spoke to Lloyd or Jerome by choice again. But he did get bold one day, and ask me to lunch again. Of course I declined.

What are you???

2006-01-20T13:51:00.000-05:00

What are you?I hate that question. Don’t get me wrong, I am proud of who I am, but I just hate when people ask me that. What, just because I’m high yella, chinky eyes, with a Spanish last name I gotta be something? Well I’m not Hispanic nor am I Asian. I’m black. On all those questionnaires, I check the black box. Because what, I’m black.

So really I’m half Cape Verdean. Cape what, you say. Cape Verdean, as in Cape Verde, as in Cabo Verde, as in Green Cape. No not Cambodian.

So here’s your history/geography lesson for today. For those of you not in the know, the Cape Verde Islands is an archipelago located off the west coast of Africa in the mid Atlantic Ocean. Just because its an island does not mean its in the Caribbean, so no I’m not West Indian. Since its so small, it usually gets left off the map. That just pisses me off. You wouldn’t leave America off the map.

Anyway until 1456 the island was uninhabited. Then the Portuguese took over the land, but guess what, there was no one there to work the land. And whitey wasn’t going to work it. So who better to work on those plantations? Those Negroes from across the way. So of course they enslaved some Africans. So you know what happened next. Intermingling, which resulted in the creation of the “Cape Verdean.” So Cape Verdeans are what I like to call a hybrid of African and Portuguese. But I just go by the one drop rule, and that spells NEGRO! I don’t know why some people try to get cute with it and say they are black Portuguese.
But anyway Portugal finally let CV go in 1975, so we celebrate our Independence day on July 5.

So the official language is Portuguese, but most people speak Crioulo, Kriolu, or Creole, depending on how you want to pronounce it. Crioulo is mix of archaic Portuguese and an African dialect. No I do not speak it and neither does my father, the native man himself. He came to the US when he was four, so he doesn’t remember it. And my great grandfather, V, did not want his grandchildren speaking the language. So Crioulo was not spoken in the house when my Daddy was growing up. But while writing this post I have been inspired. So I think that’s my next project. Learn Crioulo, with my Daddy, since learning Spanish together never really went through. You will come to find out that I like to start a lot of projects, but I never seem to finish them. We’ll get into that later.

You’re probably wondering where all of these Cape Verdeans are. Me too. I only know a few. The majority of CVs live in New England, I don’t know why they say that. They really live in Massachusetts and parts of Rhode Island. And for you people outside of the North East, New England is not in Massachusetts. Some ignorant fool tried to argue with me about that. The Patriots stadium is just there. Dumbass! So back to my point, there are not too many in Connecticut, and who lives in Maine, or Vermont anyway.

Alright I’m tired of talking about this. So if I think of anything else, I will make a part two. A N bai!

Clothing Optional?

2006-01-20T10:35:00.000-05:00

Since when did clothing become optional in public places? Whatever happened to leaving something to the imagination, and keeping certain things private? I am talking about the women’s locker room at the gym. I really think that there should be rules and regulations set for locker room use. No one, and I repeat no one should be allowed to be naked and/or partially naked in the locker room. This space should be treated like an open window. If you wouldn’t get undressed in front of a window, then don’t get undressed in front of everyone in the locker room. People do not want to see your saggy bits nor your fat unsunned ass. If you feel the need to be naked, walk into the bathroom and re-clothe yourself. And that doesn’t mean walk your naked ass from the shower, to the locker room to bend over to open your bottom locker, and then walk to the bathroom. No one needs to see all of that. Mind you the people walking around naked are the ones that have not fully utilized the gym yet. If I wanted to see naked chicks I would have gone to the Foxy Lady or Kahoots.

Recently I have seen way too much of my fellow gym attendees. There is absolutely no reason for me to see every inch of your body. Why is it that I can manage to completely come out of my work clothes and into my gym clothes without anyone seeing any of the goods? Seems like a pretty easy task to me. Must be a generational thing. It only seems that women after the age of 35 seem to do this.

One time I was in the locker room with a good friend of mine, and we were standing there talking while putting our coats in the locker, and we turn to see this naked ass facing us. Another time this one chick was walking around with just a shirt on, no bottoms at all. I do not need to know that you got a bikini wax. Thanks, but no thanks. A different time this lady was blow drying her hair with no bottoms on, just a shirt. Then one day I was taking my stuff out of the locker and notice that somehow this lady has kicked her dirty ass panties at me. Them shits landed right next to my foot. Yes, imagine my surprise. I quickly ran to the other side of the bench, got my stuff and dipped out.

And this is the last example, after this I will say no more, because this by far has got to be the nastiest thing you will ever hear in life. This chick is standing right there in the locker room changing her pad, yes, that’s what I said. Last time I checked, pad changing was bathroom activity, not friggin locker room activity. WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!?!?!?
A N Bai (translation: I’m out).

I'm Finally In

2006-01-20T09:30:00.000-05:00

Bon dia Blogland. I have finally caught on. I have been coming to blogland just about everyday since the Superstar herself started her blogspot back in September. I guess you can say I’ve been living my life vicariously through her. And then I started reading other people’s blogs. I feel like such a peeping tom. Whatever, everyone’s doing it. So here we are 5 months later and I have finally decided to grace you all with my presence. I woke up this morning with this great desire to blog. So that was my motivation to actually get out of the bed and go to work. Well here I am, I hope you enjoy.