Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Gold Digger

(Dress from Express; black and gold rope necklace was a lovely thrift find)

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

All Black Everything


There's a slight peep toe, which I adore. 

va va voom...

Oh It's The Lights...

Saturday, December 18, the kiddies, Otis, and I went driving through a local park to view the Festival of Lights.  We haven't been in a long time, so it was fun...for a while.  The kids argued about something, I can't remember.  The only "person" on their best behavior was my man Otis.  It was damn near two degrees outside, but he kept his head out of the window the entire time, whilst getting his life.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Mixing Things Up

(Jacket and shirt are thrifted; Shorts from Target; Shoes are Audrey Brooks, from DSW)

This may look a wee bit off, but I promise, the color coordination is all there.  I'm not really happy with the fit of my shorts, but I'm totally in love with them.  Who doesn't love a wool short?  WHO? Best of all, I love the details of the inside.  It's the reason I decided to make my floral and woven patterns BFFs. 

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Brown, Black, and Blue

Yesterday sucked colorful balls.  I really don't like to argue, but it seems I've been doing it waaaaay more than I should.  That all changes now.  Phuck January 1st.  I'm resolving to be the bigger person and let shyt go, ta hell if it wants.  I just wanna hear "Don't Worry, Be Happy" every day and until I truly feel it.  You know, sometimes I look so damn good it's scary, because I'll be feeling like so damn bad.  Yesterday is a prime example of such.  I felt pretty, but felt shitty.    See?

(brown and black dress - thrifted years ago; brown, 4 inch platform heels - Guess)

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Orange You Glad It's Hump Day?

(orange top, grey asymmetric skirt, and "gold" earrings - thrift store;
tights - IDK; shoes - Carlos Santana)

I'm pretty proud of my gear these days.  You can tell, based on my tweets, if you follow me.  I'm constantly twitpicing myself, so I've decided to do it here.  A more proper forum.  My blog.  (Cue Mya's "All About Me" song.)  So in true wardrobe blogging fashion, I'll identify the names and locations of where I got my shyt, if I can remember.   

Sunday, November 14, 2010


This is my backyard. 
This is also a moment of clarity.

Friday, November 12, 2010


Dear Visitor,

Some people think I'm way too cute to have such a foul mouth.  I admit that I curse quite a bit.  I've been known to blow bubbles when I speak, what with all the soap in my mouth.  Earlier today I edited one of my posts and tweets and tried to remove the profanity.  It was an epic fail.  I'm really okay with who I am and what I say, so to anyone who thinks I'm way too cute to have such a foul mouth, please suck it.

Best fucking regards,

P.S. Notice the greeting was singular?  Oh, well that's because I don't get many visitors, so why address my imagination.  I'm all about keeping it real. 
P.P.S. "fucking" didn't register in my spellcheck.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Godfather

I think it's on my profile, but let me state for the record that I'm a Washington, DC native.  No, I didn't briefly live there and claim the city.  I was born and raised in the District of Columbia.  Only true natives like moi can understand the importance of this distinction.  So many people will rep DC (sometimes referred to as Chocolate City), but they know they shouldn't 'cause more often than not, they lived in the suburbs of Maryland or Virginia and think it's a-okay to lump themselves in the DC pool.  I wish they'd stop it!  They should just say "I'm from the *DMV area" and no one would have a problem with it. 

Anyway, like most cities, we have things that are unique to us that I love.  Take for instance, good old **Go-Go music.  It's like a cover band with percussion dominating.  There's nothing like it.  NOTHING.  It's the one type of music that (black) Washingtonians will and can bond over.  Period.  We all have Chuck Brown stories. This man is an icon and old as hell. The day that he dies will shut the city down, much like last year's blizzard.  I'm not joking.  He's all of it.  

What I love most is that there are so many bands, there's music for all generations, and I'm not exaggerating.  My friends' parents have partied to Chuck.  I've partied to Chuck.  Last year, I took my son and nephews to party to Chuck.  He's clean, always has been, and the music is good.  Here's a YouTube vid of one of his more mainstream hits.


*DMV = DC, MD, and VA
**Go-Go is also a noun and can be used in the following way, "I went to the go-go last night."

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

No Uterus = Sexiness

Apparently having my uterus removed is an asset in the dating world.  Here I am thinking "Woe is me.  I'm divorced, with two old ass kids with no man."  Well, I'm surprised to find out, I got one up on these chicks out here.  After years of pain, when I was 26, I made the decision to get a hysterectomy.  The surgical procedure was necessary and the results meant that I wouldn't be able to have children.  Sad huh? Not.  Here's what I learned.  I'm the shit.  Boys actually find this attractive about me FOR THE WRONG REASONS!  I was told, "I actually like that you can't have kids.  (insert blank stare emoticon like this O__O )  You don't have a period and I don't have to worry about getting you pregnant."  O__O again.

Should I be flattered in any way?  So far, I haven't been. At the very least, I know my dating stock market value has increased.  Gooooo me, not.         

Saturday, November 6, 2010


For fucksake, shits, and giggles, I'm gonna randomly share what I googled, during the day.  It's really funny to see.  Today, here's what I just had to find:

  • GS Boyz - I was looking up these fellas, cuz I've been listening to music all day.  They came up with the stupid club hit Stanky Leg.  Curios, I wondered if they'd had any other hits.  Nope.
  • I'm Doing Me lyrics - Fantasia's song was on and there was a part that I couldn't understand.  Naturally, I pressed pause, googled the lyrics, and then proceeded to sing along, and 
  • Angela Simmons Gimme Dat - Ciara's song came on and I love it.  I remember first hearing it, via a YouTube video that Angela Simmons made lip syncing and dancing to her song.  

    Friday, November 5, 2010

    Most Assuredly

    One of my twitterbuds tweeted a quote from Ms. Zsa Zsa Gabor.  It reads "You never really know a man until you have divorced him."  Yes, you can know him well while you're still together and when you're in a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship and you've broken up.  But there's something about marriage and divorce that'll show a dude's real and true self.  Are you kind, really?  Are you funny, really?  Are you mean, really? Are you selfish, really?  Are you an asshole, really?  Can I answer these questions, really?  Yes, I can, within the teeniest millisecond, and that's why I agree.  I know my ex now better than ever, b-s-a-d!  

    Thursday, November 4, 2010

    I Wanna Cry Right Now

    Picture it (said in Sophia's voice)'re home alone with your favorite brew or glass of something and you're chilling HARD.  You have the place to yourself with no real responsibilities, but to relax and do you.  You flip channels and maybe a couple of tunes are treating you in the background.  Eventually you're captivated.  Wait, what do we see?  Awwww hell, the cable guide says these box office hits are coming on in a few.

    Now you've got a heavy decision to make.  WTF?!  Of course you could always toggle between two of 'em, but you don't really want to do that, do you?  Nah, ya don't.  If you have a penis, you're straight (no pun intended).  It's not really a big deal.  You're going with Training Day or Taken.  PERIOD.  Now if you have a vagina, the weight of the world are on your shoulders!  In situations like this, I've gotten mad and thrown the damn remote.  I remember one time turning the TV off.  How am I supposed to choose?  HOW?!  That night of relaxation I mentioned above...done.  Dead and gone.  I'm stressed.  You know what I do? I go right back to the beginning of the guide just to see if I have any other options.  Surely I could be watching CNN.  Isn't the Prez on somewhere?  I see these are my "only" options, so I sit the hell back down.  Grab that glass of wine...again, get back up to refill it, then press enter on Steel Magnolias.

    There.  There's my decision.  That's it.  Why? Not just because the cast is stellar.  Not just because there are some truly funny parts.  Not just because there are quotables all up and through the movie.  It's mostly because I live for that graveyard scene.  I watch that damn movie juuuust for M'Lynn's breakdown.  I do.  I love it.  I'm a girl.  It's what we do.  We watch shyt, ON PURPOSE, that'll make us cry.  You know we have options.  We could read a book, but nooooo, we wanna watch and wipe.  It's wicked. Sometimes, I'd rather cry than cackle.  Sometimes I'd rather weep than gasp in fear.  Just sometimes.  I'm publicly acknowledging this well known, but unspoken fact.  I do solemnly swear that I love getting my cry on.  Now, because I'm a petty broad, I'm going to challenge you.  If you do NOT want to cry, like you claim you don't while you were reading my admission, then do not scroll any further.  If you're in the mood for a courtesy sniffle, then proceed...


    In doing research, like the good blogger that I am, I found the lines for the scene annnnnd I cried cutting and pasting it.

    M'Lynn: [crying] I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.
    M'Lynn: I'm fine! I can jog all the way to Texas and back, but my daughter can't! She never could! Oh God! I am so mad I don't know what to do! I wanna know why! I wanna know *why* Shelby's life is over! I wanna know how that baby will *ever* know how wonderful his mother was! Will he *ever* know what she went through for him! Oh *God* I wanna know *why*? *Why*? Lord, I wish I could understand!
    [in a firm tone]
    M'Lynn: No! No! No! It's not supposed to happen this way! I'm supposed to go first. I've always been ready to go first! I-I don't think I can take this! I-I don't think I can take this! I-I just wanna *hit* somebody 'til they feel as bad as I do! I just wanna hit something! I wanna hit it hard!
    [continues sobbing]
    Clairee: Here!
    [grabs Ouiser by the shoulder and positions her in front of M'Lynn]
    Clairee: Hit this! Go ahead M'Lynn, slap her!
    Ouiser Boudreaux: [taken aback and confused] Are you crazy?
    Clairee: Hit her!
    Ouiser Boudreaux: Are you *high*, Clairee?
    Truvy: [in a frightened tone] Clairee, have you lost your mind?
    Clairee: We'll sell t-shirts sayin' "I SLAPPED OUISER BOUDREAUX!" Hit her!
    Annelle: [in a scared tone] Ms. Clairee, enough!
    Clairee: Ouiser, this is your chance to do something for your fellow man! Knock her lights out, M'Lynn!
    Ouiser Boudreaux: [snatches away] Let go o' me!
    Clairee: M'Lynn, you just missed the chance of a lifetime! Half o' Chiquapin Parish'd give their eye teeth to take a whack at Ouiser!  

    I took it to the next level though by finding the clip on YouTube.  Press play if you dare.

    Wednesday, November 3, 2010

    I'm Whipped

    It's no secret that Will's wittle wonder Willow Smith is talented and adorable, but there is something more.  It's beyond what a parent (either hers or I) can recognize and see in a child.  I'm almost always ooohing and ahhhing over some puppy, but it's rare that I get this way about a human, let alone a potentially annoying child.  For some hater-esque reason, I completely disregarded the hoopla surrounding her, until a few weeks after the world knew.  My bubble was popped and I stood (or sat in my office) looking like that surprised emoticon.  I JUST COULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT I WAS SEEING AND HEARING.  Sure, she has a quasi-baby voice.  Don't they all at that age? I mean she IS 9, but she can sing, like really sing.

    I watched her interview on the Ryan Seacrest radio show, and her gum chewing never bothered me. Nope, it didn't.  I thought it was cute and appropriate (kinda) for a kid, who was probably a wee bit nervous.  Then her official video debuted which was verrrry fitting and fun.  I never raised my brow, unless it accompanied a finger snapping in a circle.  Other than that, I was smiling and bouncing.

    Now she goes and has her first live performance on Ellen and slayed many grown folks who've been in the game for a minute.  I'm fancying her to be the next Aaliyah.  Yep, I said it and I mean it.  She's got "it."  Peep her hair whippage below and whip yours while you're at it.

    Tuesday, November 2, 2010

    The Daily Grind

    I'm a tweeter.  I love it.  I think I've had my account since like 08, which is kind of a long time.  I'm not really sure why I'm mentioning this.  Wait, I know why.  It's because early yesterday morning, one of the funniest people I follow on Twitter said it was National Blog Posting Month. The challenge is to write something, anything, every day.  I needed this motivation and decided to have it full.  So here I is, posting away.  I'm really excited and determined.  I even printed out a little calendar in Word and started to fill in the days with topics and ideas.  I'm not married to all of them, but a few got me pretty committed.  Plus, I have like 3 or 4 drafts sitting and waiting to be edited, so this challenge right here, again, is the perfect jump start for me to write, right now.

    Happy reading!   

    p.s. I love homophones.

    Monday, November 1, 2010

    I Feel Like Puking

    Well, at least that was the overwhelming feeling I had over the weekend.  I went out on Friday night, for homecoming (Goooooo Terps) and did the most.  I had high hopes for celebrating being an alumni from the great University of Maryland, but tuh I foiled those plans...QUICKLY.  At least I had fun, right?  Here's how it all went down:

    • Showered
    • Poured a glass of wine
    • Sipped aforementioned while applying makeup
    • Got dressed
    • Drove to happy hour/party
    • Accepted glass of wine from friend
    • Kee-cackled
    • Accepted glass of wine from friend
    • Took pictures
    • Attended a meeting in the ladies room (fun talks)
    • Participated in champagne toast for chum's bday
    • Giggled
    • Drank a shot of patron (I completely FORGOT about this until a recap with BF)
    • Accepted glass of wine from friend
    • Became concerned
    • Posed
    • Said goodbyes
    • Drove home
    • Slept
    • Woke up RIDICULOUSLY early (6am)
    • Wandered aimlessly around house
    • Tripped over dog a few times
    • Prayed to porcelain God
    • Complained
    • Whined
    • Moaned
    • Chanted
    • Gave an ef you to porcelain God
    • Sulked
    • Missed another homecoming party
    • Slept, finally
    • Felt better

    *no food was consumed since morning

    Wednesday, October 13, 2010

    Puppy Love

    Ran into a college friend (and his pup), on a random Sunday night, in a hookah bar, in DC. 
    I walked away with this gem of a picture. 

    Wednesday, October 6, 2010

    It's My Birthday and I Cried Cuz I Wanted To and Had No Phucking Choice

    I can't really go into details, but if you're reading this blog you should know the following 10 things:

    1.  The smile in this picture is fake and it ain't sexy. 

    2.  In 2003, my beloved cousin Snowball died two days before my birthday, thus making it the worst birthday ever.  This was a close second.   
    3.  I spanked my daughter, for the first time in her 11 years of living, on the day of my cookout. 
    4.  I cried for hours on my actual birthday.
    5.  Two reservations were made for me, one at an Ethiopian restaurant and the other at a French one.  I ate Chick-Fil-A. 
    6.  I canceled attendance to my birthday cookout, just 2 hours, before it started. 
    7.  The "small" cookout, was closer to medium/large, so I'm glad I experienced all of the love.


     8.  I over-accessorized to make myself feel a little better.  It worked. 

    9.  While perusing Jet magazine, at my parents', I found an article on my friend!

    10.  I'm still experiencing guilt, from eating WAAAAY too much and then devouring these leftovers, for days later.

    Monday, October 4, 2010

    She's Alive!!!

    I was quite the social bumblebee this weekend. Wait, it's a butterfly!  I'm going overboard comparing myself to anything or one who fluttered in and out of the DC social scene.  I went out to a god damn happy hour in ANNAPOLIS (the MD state Capitol), on Thursday.  Friday I had dinner and dancing with my girlfriend and her co-workers.  Damn, that's a stretch.  Okay, we had an appetizer at DC Coast (see pic below of "shrimp and grits") and then we went to Park.
    You can barely tell, but that really was shrimp and grits, though I mostly tasted corn and something spicy.  I'm NOT complaining, because it was really delish.  I've been inspired to taste and eat anything, since watching the latest season of Top Chef.  I hardly ever know the ingredients, but they seem to look so damn good that, while this dish sounds pretty basic, my taste buds were doing a two step.  And since the restaurant can come across all hoity toity, I let my tongue do the jig and saved my actual moves for the club later.  Now, the club was totally different since last I trotted my ass out there.  It was such a scene and quite frankly I was amused.  Pleased.  Pleased that I'd gone out.  Pleased that I saw my friend Tiffany, who I hadn't laid my precious eyes on in forever.  Pleased with my outfit. 

    But mostly I was pleased with my confidence.  I didn't care that my insanely wide-legged jeans were in a league of their own (per Rachel Zoe, my baggy, skinny, fashion idol).  I didn't care that my boobies were covered, in a sea of round ones spilling out all over the place.  I didn't care that there wasn't a single soul in the hizzy worthy of my digits or time.  I just wanted and needed a breather and I got it.    

    Saturday, September 11, 2010

    Retail Therapy

    I purchased this gem, following my aunt’s wake, at a faraway Salvation Army, for a whopping $3.25.

    My hips and boobies didn’t fathom being draped in it, ‘til now!  A few pounds lighter, this Asian beauty produced such joy when she seamlessly fell over my head and onto my body.  Elated, I failed to notice the side zipper was taut and untouched.  Maybe I’m a little more than a few pounds lighter, eh? Yay!

    Monday, August 16, 2010

    White Hot

    from head...
    clean crisp suit
    current (a la iPhone) toe
    those fucking shoes

    Friday, August 13, 2010

    Can I Get an Encore?

    Like the backdrop to a cheesy reality show, when we kiss, subtle triumphant music plays.

    Thursday, August 12, 2010


    (previously posted April 09 on my old blog, now updated and tweaked on the new one, ha!)

    I'm so happy to have Ms. Winfrey back in my life.  For a while, I'd given up on her.  It seemed like her content was fading and wasn't appealing to me at all.  I couldn't relate.  For the last year or so, she's gotten her groove back.  More often than not, I'm actually watching her DVR'd shows instead of pressing "program information" then deleting it.  I can tell you now that next week's star studded country music all stars show will be deleted without the play button ever being touched.  This week, however, she had me hooked, especially her show on being a mother.  I have to say, it was riveting.  I think every woman who THINKS they want children should watch it.  Moreover, I highly recommend all mothers do their best to carve out some time to watch or at least read about the show.

    It's mostly important for my MITs (mommas in the trenches) to see it so that they know they're not alone.  There IS a dark side to being a mother.  We love our babies, but sometimes we want to slap the taste out of their mouths or just tell them to shut the hell up and sit down.  You see?  That virtual, judgmental eyeroll you just gave me is the reason why a lot of MITs go over the deep end.  Sure, we can openly talk about little Johnny or Nay-Nay and how bad they are.  We can go on and on about what we'd do if we got one of them alone at our house - they'd be on the straight and narrow *finger snaps*.  But why aren't we afforded that same freedom of speech when it relates to our own children?  Okay, wait.  We are "allowed" to complain every once in a while about our lack of sleep.  We can mention the exhaustion from taking the kids to/fro practices, but that's it.  Anything really beyond that is off limits.  Hell, we can have impromptu ladies' room discussions about our significant others...what they're doing (or not).  We question our career moves.  Without reservations, dialogues ensue about how we're applying for the next job opening that remotely resembles our current one.  We aren't happy and we want out.  I've never had a conversation with an MIT expressing the same sentiment.

    I do believe that parent/child relationships bear a remarkable love.  The man in the upper room knows how my heart swells when I visualize M's grin.  He knows in a silent room, I can hear J's special laugh, the one that's slightly girlish and high-pitched.  It signifies a solid hardy har-har for him.  That same Creator knows juuuust when I'm 'bout to go off.  It's when he does something exceptionally mean to M, landing him on punishment for the during of spring break.  Oh, also when I, with no intention, silently enter a room to catch M with Ritz crackers crumbs for 8am...with no napkin...on the couch!  Sometimes I'm so exasperated.  I get confused as hell.  Have we not gone over the rules?  You can't get anything to eat without asking and you certainly aren't permitted to eat in the living room, on the couch no less!  I want to yell, "WTF?"  The words are in its cycle, traveling through my body just fixing to regurgitate themselves.  But I gag and swallow them (that's what she said).

    I'm not saying that O's show encouraged MITs to spit out those words.  No.  It opened the floor for moms to share those not so loving feelings.  Getting beyond the baby's firsts, and getting real.  She showcased several MITs, via Skype, sharing their mommy confessions.  They ranged from not bathing their kids for 3 weeks to subbing feminine products for diapers.  Others admitted to having a favorite child and exchanging a water bottle for a restroom stop, which would ultimately stir sleeping babies.  In the spirit of openness, I can admit to giving both of my babies Motrin to get them to sleep (this is pretty common, BTW, LOL).  I can also admit to having postpartum after M's birth.  I feel comfortable discussing it now, but at the time it was a dirty little secret.

    There was a pair of best friends on the show, with 5 kids between them, who often discussed the ups and downs of motherhood.  They had the genius (and very lucrative idea) of surveying other MITs and writing a book about it.  It was successful enough that 2 others followed, also dedicated to shedding and making light of motherhood.  Another mom, Heather B. Armstrong, took to the Internet and started blogging at Dooce when she suffered from postpartum.  Her following went from 30 people, most family and friends, to thousands of moms across the world.  Speaking of thousands, her blog's traffic and advertisements provide her family approximately $40,000 a month!  Her husband quit his job, and they work full-time updating and maintaining the website.  Nice. Her personal tragedy turned into a dream she never visualized.  She hasn't a clue how much of an idol she is to me, sooooo when I ran into her, on a random Wednesday night, essentially in da hood of Washington, DC, I FUCKING DIED!!! 

    Ms. Winfrey often gives props to all of the moms of the world, because she recognizes it's such a demanding job.  I say to the MITs, "Take the time to vent.  Keep O's door open.  Get it off of your chest."  We're constantly refereeing or building schedules or doing hair or making projects.  As a mom, we can never officially clock out, but we can certainly take much needed breaks so that we can actually enjoy being a mom.  We deserve it, as do our kids.

    Always On 24/7,

    Tuesday, August 10, 2010


    Today is exceptional.  I can't stand my ex.  It burns me up that he can get to me, but such is life.  I know I need to chant more about this, because really and truly and honestly and bluntly and brutally - he's a piece of dog poo.  Not the fresh moist kind.  He's that dried up, been in the sun, turning gray and don't even stank no' mo' poo.  You could step in his kinda poo and never even know it, 'cause it fucking disintegrates and leaves no trace.  Hmmm,that's it. I shouldn't even see his ass.  He's invisible, only his nose is so big.  That, David Copperfield couldn't hide it.       

    Wednesday, July 28, 2010


    Like all best friends in a circle of four, my best friends and I assigned a character of Sex and The City to each other. Only one of us disagreed, but the rest of us took a liking to and accepted our series persona. You'd have to know me intimately to believe that I'm most like Charlotte. Yes, like her I'm prudish, I (still) believe in love, and I'm the emotional one in the bunch. There was an episode when Samantha discovered that one of her lovers was cheating on her. This important fact was revealed while she and the rest of the girls were relaxing in a sauna. Seems Samantha's lover had a fetish for shaving his initials in a lady's most intimate areas, and she wasn't the only person baring his monogram. Practice makes perfect, huh? The entire scene was too much for Charlotte. Firstly, she wasn't up for seeing and discussing Samantha's hairdownthere. Secondly, she didn't get how everyone so freely disrobed and revealed themselves to the whole (sauna) world. Here, is where we're A LOT alike.

    When my body was at it's t-t-tightest, I was always the most reserved of the bunch. You know the slumber party scene where the girls are sitting around in their Chrissy Snow jammies, eating junk food, and swapping boy stories? I was there always, yes. Everyone else would be whipping stuff off left and right. Oh me, I'd quietly retreat to the bathroom and get undressed and dressed. There were rare occasions when I'd have to disrobe in front of others, like freaking bridesmaid fittings, small hotel rooms, etc. But when not forced, I'd do my thang on the solo tip.

    Patting myself on the back for being the smallest I've been in like 7 years, I've been going to the gym and not eating! Well, I eat but really in moderation with the bullshyt intake being very low. I love being this size and now I'm just trying to tone the hell up. A few weeks ago, I went to my gym, at work. If you notice, most times when you enter the locker room, it's hardly ever a direct path. You normally turn at least once or twice before you are actually in the locker room. I'm assuming this universal design is to protect the privacy of the members.

    On this particular day, I went to the gym with my co-worker. I went straight to the handicap stall (save your judgments) and she, to the changing area. As soon as I rounded the corner, I encountered a naked woman, standing in the mirror blow drying her hair. (BTW, standing in the mirror is a funny phrase) I hated everything and was embarrassed. Why? Our eyes never met, but I knew EXACTLY who she CO-WORKER!!!!!!!!!!!! Ugh. I wanted to leave. I was willing to put my weight loss goals aside and just say "ef it." Hoping like hell it was her long lost twin, I peeped through the cracks trying to get a better glimpse of her face. I still wasn't quite sure, until another co-worker came out of nowhere and started discussing some new work related regulation that had just passed. Talk about a meeting in the ladies room. I had already changed and absolutely refused to come out until she left. The dressed co-worker left and the nude one stayed. Hell, her hair seemed dry to me. "Leave already," I thought. I fiddled around some more - shifting shyt in my bag; untying and tying my shoes; peeping and ducking. Finally, after a few more finger rakes through her hair, she left. In a millisecond, I exhaled and collapsed my forehead on the bathroom door. I was mentally exhausted! Realizing that fiasco had taken a chunk out of my workout, I grabbed my bag and left. When I got to the treadmill section, where my work-out buddy was waiting, she looked at me like "What took so long?" I made a face saying, "Girl you don't even want to know." Without seeming psycho, how could I tell her I was stalled in the stall?

    Friday, July 16, 2010

    New Heights

    Yesterday did the most.  I'm all over the web and received some exciting news, like hands shaking, top of the lung screaming news.  I grabbed my cell and called my best friend in the whole wide world.  She's that "ride or die" girlfriend we all need and want in our lives. So, I'm yelling at her and she's yelling at me and I imagined, if the miles weren't so great between us, that we'd be jumping up and down, clinking glasses, and splashing mimosas everywhere.  Instead, she popped my eardrums and vicey versey.*  I tried to write down everything she was saying, but I couldn't.  Fuck it.  We're besties and I'll get the details and career advice later, I thought. Sharing that moment with her was the best.  I didn't think "if only I had a man" I'd call him first.  Nope, I didn't.  He would have been second or third and I envision a celebratory e-bouquet or card sent to me.  Yup, he's so phucking sweet.  He would have done just that.  Gosh, I'm gonna love him.

    *I know these aren't real words, but they're hella fun to say. 

    Saturday, July 10, 2010

    Kissing Cousins

    I try to be witty and all when I come up with my blog post titles, but there wasn't much I could do with this.  Wait, all of a sudden I see I could have titled my post ANY of the following:
    • All in The Family
    • It's All Relative
    • Blood is Thicker than Water
    *These all fit and cover like a mug.  Why? Ohhhhh, because a little birdie told me that one of my cousins is married to their distant cousin and they both know it.  Haaaaa!  Think this is hilarious. 

    *(that's native DC/Washingtonian talk for "it really applies.")

    Thursday, July 8, 2010

    Special Delivery

    I love family.
    I love my family.
    I love spending time with my family.
    They're fun and funny.   Moments occur over birthday parties and during casual gatherings that stay with me forever.  Things are rarely heavy and when they are, they have the propensity to get light, real quick.  I blame Durrell, James called by his co-workers and non-family members.

    Born with a hole in his heart, about 40 years ago, he has been such a gift.  For as long as I can remember, we've ALWAYS had cackles with and because of him. Sometimes he's purposefully making us laugh, with his sporadic dance moves and others, it's completely unintentional.

    I don't know what to call him, 'sides my cousin.  I guess medically or socially, he's "mentally challenged."  He has the mind of a young child, maybe 9 or 10 years old.  There are times when his knowledge downright shocks us, thus the laughter.  He'll never live alone, though his departure from living with my aunt, uncle, and cousin are constant topics of any conversation you'll ever have with him.  He scours the sales paper for furniture to put on layaway.  Oh and he loves perusing the Sunday papers for newly listed homes for sale.  An impromptu pop over to my aunt's for a visit easily starts with a Durrell hug, coupled with the sound of rattling paper.  Yep, behind his back is a newspaper.  The hug will prematurely end with a newspaper shoved in your face and a plea or invite, depending on his mood, to help him "move."  Obsessively, for the rest of my visit, I'm asked about helping him move with his WIFE AND SON, LOL!  See, that's the part that's not of a 10 year old's mind.  He wants out and to be on his own. Eh eh, ain't happening, but you can't tell him that and he'll never believe otherwise.  This cycle has been going on for at least 20 years.

    He's very sporadic, so sometimes he's married and sometimes he's engaged and sometimes he's just got a girlfriend.  Hell, at times he's got one of each.  Being a recent divorcee, I break his ass down and tell him how it's wrong for him to be cheating!  He doesn't get it and my rant is met with smiles.  He laughs and partially understands. That lecturing session is short lived.  He moves on to talk about his sons, who over time have included - Michael Jackson, Bow Wow, Usher, and R. Kelly, just to name a few.  Oh, I forgot to mention, he has a speech glitch, so sometimes it's really hard to understand him and I'll look to his mom, my aunt, for translation.  Anyway, last weekend at our family reunion, he was talking about his upcoming move to a three story townhouse on the 26th.  Whilst soliciting even more help from our NC family, he brought up, yet another son. When I asked him to repeat the name, my sister chimed in with her translation.  I swear, I choked when she repeated his son's name - JUSTIN BIEBER!!!  I fucking hollered.  My boo is current and keeps up with the times, huh?  It really was the funniest shit.

    Seriously, this is just ONE example.  Imagine always having him around to lighten the mood.  During birthdays, reunions, and deaths, he adds a smile when there might not have been one and a laugh when we didn't think it was possible.  He probably will never know or understand his impact, but I hope he can feel the love - somehow.

    I heart Durrell.

    UPDATE...he we are!

    Monday, June 28, 2010

    Secret Places

    I recognize that my memory fails me a lot.  I'm not sure that it's true what "they" say about remembering what you want to remember. I'm always forgetting something and wishing like hell that I hadn't.  I come up with psychotic little mind tricks to help me sharpen my skills, but I phuck around and forget those too!  When it comes to misplacing items, I'm a genius at it.  I should Google Guinness see if someone holds the title for misplacing the most shyt.  If not, I'm fixin' to make history, be a pioneer of sorts.

    Though I pride myself on being early or on time, but never late to anything, those rare occasions happen.  It's mostly when I'm rushing to do something not previously planned.  I'll grab and stash something in my purse and jet out.  If I'm really on top of my game, I'll add a little reminder to my calendar, which serves as my mental personal assistant.  But, if I forget, I'm screwed.  I hate when it's too late and I'm reminded of what I was supposed to do or say.

    During an extremely stressful time at work, I had been putting in numerous hours at home working on this godawful project.  I'd be up into the wee hours.  When I felt myself dozing, I began toggling between working and computer flirting, ha!  Unfortunately when the mid-night's bright lights and TV woke me, I would find myself scrambling to save some documents on my USB flash-drive.  If the night ended like such, the next was sure to begin like one of the aforementioned rare occasions - equipped with a quick morning bird bath and the dashing and stashing of shyt in a mad hurry.  I remember one particular night when I was rather successful reviewing some documents.  They were saved on my flash-drive and taken to work...or so I thought.  I searched all over the freaking place and I just couldn't find it.  My entire professional well-being was at stake (only in my eyes though, because I didn't want to duplicate the work I'd spent hours doing).  I never found it, but I gave myself time to calm the hell down and look for it when I got back home.

    I could barely get in the damn house before I started to tear it apart looking for my USB drive.  No haps.  It was gone and I was devastated - was also disappointed in myself for being negligent.  Refusing to beat it into the ground, I gave up and in to realize I'd be doing the work allll over again.  Fine.  Lesson learned.  And with that, I made dinner for the kids.  Put them to their respective rooms.  Came up to my room and sat on the edge of my bed.  Exhausted.  I kicked off my shoes, lifted my dress and went to brush my teeth in the bathroom. 

    'Cause I'm a tad vain at times.  I turned around a bit and gave it a once over and internal thumbs up. You see, there are tons of advantages to being a woman.  In particular, our physiques are phenomenal.  They have the abilities to "bring a man to their knees" or provide nourishment to our babies and many more cliches (no matter  how overused they may be). So I was siced to see some progress in my weight loss efforts.  After my "you go girl" session, I momentarily plopped on my bed, then sat up to continue undressing.  I stood and unfastened my bra, and heard a distinct and unrecognizable thump.  I looked around for a sec, then straight down. goddamn USB drive was right there.  Turns out I'd placed it in my bra for safe keeping.  Lawd I was relieved.  Literally, it never left my side.  I picked it up and gently placed it in my purse.  I finished my bedtime rituals and slept like a baby, with visions of USBs dancing in my head.

    Monday, June 14, 2010

    Don't Call it a Comeback

    (Parental and Christian Advisory)

    It's been 2 years and 12 days since I stepped out on faith, claiming my independence and entering single life. It's been a journey, but I feel like I've "made it." My life is so peaceful and full and I have a happiness that I never imagined would stem from the dissolution of my marriage. Shit's good. My anger has subsided and my tears have all but dried. There are those moments when I'm forced down memory lane, like uh the other day.

    Imagine you're sitting back watching your favorite talk show and BAM (one of) your ex's mistresses is on your screen...front and phucking center. Yeah, that was me, gagging. I was actually breathless. My fingers went from being numb, to pressing pause, and to pressing keys to text my closest girlfriends. This bitch was on TV talking about family and shit and I'm thinking "Family? Phuck family. You wanna know about family? Family phucked my husband. That's right, Faith phucked my husband!" (Okay, that didn't really apply. I tend to pop in and out of character. That was Vanessa L. Williams' line in Soul Food.) I mean I did feel some kinda way listening to her monkey ass talking about the preservation of her family, while she help to dismantle mine. And don't you dare get it twisted. I know my ex is to blame for letting his snake slither in foreign yards. The shit just pissed me off.

    Anyway, I eyed the clock and for a few minutes, I sobbed on the phone to my girl. It was hard and loud and brief. Don't call it a comeback, those feelings. I showered (for my date) and kept it moving. When I got to his house, we talked about a lot of things, one of which, was my talk show debacle. We sat still, because no words could really be spoken. I'm just glad I was able to have that moment of silence, which was quickly filled with giggles. Despite the rocky start, the rest of my evening was smooth sailing. I've got some great lifeboats, but I run my ship. Aye aye Captain!