Friday, November 18, 2005


So this is day one on Zyban. For those that don't know its basically an antidepressants that they figured out helps with smoking cessation. In laymans terms, someone depressed quit smoking and they took notice. So, I decided about 3 months ago that I wanted to quit. I am a 16 year smoker, not heavy but not all that light either, with short fuse and a penchant for all things bad for me. I kinda laughed at the whole "quitting" thing for a while because I felt like I had been doing it so long that it was a part of my identity....but then I started having pains.

apparently smoking and acid reflux are in direct opposition to each other because for every cigarette I smoked, my whole digestive tract would cry out in agony. Finally, some sort of negative association that I can work with! Basically, all those stop smoking ad's that come up on the TV don't count for shit with smokers. We laugh at that shit and light up again, and we figure the only people dumb enough to fall for those "Truth" ad's are non smokers. The pain however was enough to make me seriously rethink my habit.

Not cause I hate it, not cause I think its bad or wrong or gross. Not cause I bent to pressure, or I have a fear that people wont like me or want to be around me cause I am a smoker. Not because it will give me cancer eventually, not because its costing me a fortune and not because I give a damn about any non smoker's rights, second hand smoke or what my boyfriend's family might think. NO, its not cause of any of those reasons. I didn't join the other team and I will not jeer, belittle, cough or wheeze at other smokers now. I simply wont do it because in my heart, in my make up, I am a smoker, and frankly I like my right to puff carcinogens into the night air.

The only reason I am quitting is because I am in horrendous pain, and frankly I don't wanna be in pain AND thirty battling smoking. I am exhausted, and if this is the way I go get unexhausted, then that's what I do. Which brings me to the title of this entry "You wont win bitch" which happens to be the other driving force in my quest to quit. This bitch, who shall remain nameless who up until my trip to Europe, I considered a good friend. She is now more like a jealous petty backstabbing associate who I am sure would shit on her own mother for a wedding ring and the opportunity to say "I got married first!"

This particular bitch is also a smoker, but she is one of those fake ass wanna be smokers that started in college on a whim and became full blown at 25 or 26. She is a rusty dusty ass smoker who fills up her car ashtray instead of pitching those joint out the window. She cant go more than 5 min in the car without lighting up, rain, snow, sleet, cold or heat. No weatherpattern or length of time between jacks is enough to stop her.

So yesterday, in chat (which I vowed not to go back to after the Europe incident) she is going on and on about her quest to kick the habit. Rewind: See before we left for Europe I said to her "Girl, I gotta quit, my stomach is on fire and I cant be thirty puffing on this shit" Said bitch politely looked at me and said "Ehh I don't know, I'm not ready to quit just yet" to which I replied, "well I gotta cut it out, but I cant do it before we leave, its gonna be to hard not to smoke in countries full of smokers" Bitch agrees, and lights up again, having and expressing no intention of quitting.

Fast Forward to yesterday. The whole chat crew (yuuch I hate that) is praising her for trying to quit. They are asking questions, and cheering her on like Zab Juda or some shit. Mind you, I mentioned again last week that I was quitting but no one gave me that type of ass kissing respect. Now IMO there are only a few reason why they wouldn't. 1. The don't figure Imma quit. 2. They don't care if I'mma quit or 3. They like kissin that bitches ass.

Whatever the reason, I am fuckin incensed! The bitch wasnt even thinking about Zyban until I told her I got a script for it. The bitch doesn't even have a good reason (other than she stole my 30 year old excuse) for quitting. She is just on some old "I wanna be like Tiff" shit again. You want to be me so motherfuckin bad and I just don't understand why???

But, I digress....This rookie, 10 year college smoker, swinging from my tits is NOT gonna beat me to quitting. FUCK HER! I don't roll like that! Go buy yourself another pack of Newports and shut the fuck up, but I promise you will not get to the finishline before I do. Now, I am going upstairs on the roof to puff and make this week count. I pray for those souls who anger me in the next few weeks, but that bitch is going down

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Kitchen Confidential

How excited am I that they are turning this book into a TV show??? This book is an absolute must read if you have ever worked in a restaurant. I actually miss working in that environment now cause of Bourdain. Oh and if you do manage to read it, I hope you arent the type that offends easily. Personally, I love this guy! He is my type of dude all the way, but I have issues.

I dont have a whole lot to report today, so I guess this will be it.
Im going to go pretend to clean up.

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Watch out for the big girls! Watch out for the big girls!

Damn it I'm fat! I am large and in charge apparently. My ass has extended to extreme proportions and in such a short time! Who knew that one could get so big so fast? In the summer of 2004 I was a slim trim size 4. All my clothing fit, and I even had remnants of my extra cute 6 pack. Well all that has changed. Somewhere between working out like a maniac and eating like someone was gonna snatch it for me, my body decided it was gonna carry me. I woke up one morning to a grumpy disposition and 12 pairs of slacks that didn't fit. No longer my happy little 4 I begrudgingly slid into a pair of extra tight 8's. A hold over from the dark ages (you know that time right after I divorced Hickbill Squarehead) that managed to hid themselves in the back of my overstuffed closet.

Now, I am not fooling myself into thinking that this weight just came and pasted itself to my thigh and ass region. I know that I slacked off in the work out department for over 6 months. I admit it, I like food and I hate running. I hate sweating and I hate crunches. I even hate Billy Blanks ugly ass screaming at me on DVD. But you know what? I hate being fat more than all of that. I hate looking like I raided some teenager's closet. I hate not being able to breath in and unforgiving pair of capri's, and worse than all that, I hate the feeling that I have WIDE LOAD tattooed to my ass and forehead for all the world to see.

During my lunch break this week, I finally broke down. Took my extra large behind to H&M and bought two pair of size 10 pants. Sobbing as I made the long walk of shame to the gay guy at the register. This morning I got up and ran like someone was chasing me, even though I was not happy about the jiggle and wiggle following close behind (no pun intended) me. I even ate right, skipped the Starbucks, took my vitamins, and drank two Vitamin Waters. By the way...the one labeled Perform is the most awful concotion god ever created. The sort of awful that makes you cuss out loud. For example: "Oh for fuck's sake what the hell is this shit!" "Oh my damn this shit is like turpentine" "Who the fuck created this shit and why!" "I wouldn't give this bottle of crap to a dog!"

Thank god I bought an essential that seemed to knock the paint thinner taste out.
Next time we'll discuss "So you think you can dance" cause I have a feeling it needs addressing.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

You're either slingin crack rock or you got a wicked jump shot...

Boiler Room, my favorite money movie. Yes I categorize them. Just like Leaving Las Vegas is my favorite love story, and Kill Bill Vol 1. is my favorite action flick I love Boiler Room.
The line above is actually credited to the late Biggie Smalls, who had the misfortune of being killed on my 21st birthday. One of these years, I am gonna be fortunate enough not to hear "you know they killed Biggie today?"

So, as the movie starts, Seth (Giovanni Ribisi) is on a bus with the other would be stock broker types on their way to a fun night in the city. Fun being hookers, dice and cocaine if you weren't aware. Basically, he says it in reference to the idea that everyone has a gimmick, and no one wants to work for their money anymore.

"There's no honor in that afterschool job" - Seth (Boiler Room, 2000)

I bring up boiler room for this reason. I need a fuckin gimmick! I gotta get the hell out of this dead end, no good, fake boss 1&2, ADD boss having nightmare! I need to be hockin shit on the street or swinging from a pole, cause I am seriously considering doing some of the shit I've seen on Forensic Files.

If I don't get out of this place soon I am gonna need anti-psychotics. This morning, my boss pissed off the only Inn keeper on the Eastern Shore willing to give his bastard ass 6 rooms, lunch, meeting space, dinner and breakfast. Now I gotta spend the day cleaning up his fucking mess and apologizing to probably the nicest lady on the planet. Thanks fucker, way to start my Wendnesday!

In addition, Metro....How do you get on a train at 8am smelling like 7pm? Wash your asses people! My ipod can drown out your incessant yammering, but not your funky hot garbage smell.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Plantation? Are you out of your mind?

I remembered sometime late last night that my department, a merry band of affluent white folks, were having their summer outing today.

Let me back up. First, I don't like these folks, they are socially inept and I am almost positive I am the only black person they have ever associated with for longer than it takes to fill a glass of water, retrieve their vehicle, or clean their gutters. These are the kind of folks who think black folks are the help.

So fast fwd to last week and my oh so stubborn boss trying to guilt me into going out to play golf in 90 degree weather. I declined in every tactful way I could think of. However, he just wouldn't let it go. Even on Friday when I left he was still up my ass about coming out to the golf club called (I shit you not) River Plantation.

I don't know about the rest of the black American population, but I don't really have a whole lot of faith in being coaxed to a place called River Plantation by a bunch of rich white people. Call me crazy, but isn't this how some other shit got started about 200 years ago?

So this morning, while debating whether or not it would be worse to carry it and go to work, or show up at the massa's house for a day of pickin cotton... I chose to carry it. No one likes an angry belligerent black woman anyway. I woulda had a foul ass attitude, and something extra shitty could have escaped my lips during the course of the day. Something just slick enough to get my black ass fired.

Anyway, I have to hit the video store tonight. I gotta pick up Bagger Vance, Amistad, and Roots for when they ask me why the hell I didn't show up. Movies are so much easier for them to grasp.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

My first blog

Creating a blog was never in my mind until I realized how much I have to bitch about. This week I have more than usual. Let me start by telling you a bit about good old Avin. Avin (yeah this is gonna be one of those hated 3rd person narratives) is your atypical 20-something (pushing 30 but hey, only my mother can prove that) with a shitty job, crazy friends, a son who people mistake for her brother and an inordinate love for all things bizarre. With the exception of a few bright points, life basically sucks. She only derives pleasure from things that make the rest of the world scratch their collective heads.

  1. I ride metro to work every day and yes you will hear a lot about my adventures.
  2. I have a boyfriend who is even stranger than I am who's name I will protect for reasons I cant talk about.
  3. I have an ex-husband who went from Hip-hop to Hee-haw in a few short years.
  4. I love television. Especially anything reality based.

Which brings me to my first official rant. I used to wholeheartedly believe that the devil took up residence in that country fuck I call an exhusband, but I was clearly mistaken.
About a year ago, while being forced to watch WWE with my boyfriend, I realized that the devil is none other than the wrestler John Cena.

Come on folks, you know this guy. He is the self absorbed, modern day Al Jolson wearing that Home Depot chain and Master Lock. The one with the shitty ass catch phrase "You cant see me!" waving his retarded ass hand in front of his face like a fool. The one who now has his own fuckin record!! Gimme a damn break! I thought at first it had to be some joke. You know, WWE is notorious for creating off the wall characters who step on the line of racism, playing on every stereotype regular law abiding folks were told not to go within 50 feet of.

Where in the hell are Spike Lee, Jesse Jackson, and Al Sharpton when you need them!!! Not that I like any of them mufuggas, I just hate this guy worse! Who in the hell decided that this guy deserved his own CD???

With that said...I am officially putting in my bid for the removal of this clown from the human race. See, its all fun and games till some wack ass idiot comes along to disturb the planet's delicate balance. Race relations are already strained and here comes this fool. Now, Avin doesn't particularly hate wrestling. Avin actually finds the struggle between JBL and Batista to be comical. I am even intrigued by what might be the secret that good old Eddie Guerrera might be holding over poor Rey Mysterio (619 mufuggas). But this guy I just cant take. Something about him riles me like a fuckin attack dog, and don't think it was easy for me to go and post his crappy ass picture on my page. That shit was torture to say the least.

So, this morning, while watching one of my favorite shows, Best Week Ever on VH1, minding my own damn business while downing redbull and smoking Marlboros, This ass clown pops up on my screen!!! Now, I know the neighbors think I am crazy, but I am sure they were interested in calling the cops today (kinda like that time when the goat cookers were having a party until the wee hours of the morning and listening to nothing but Ja Rule: "hello, yes I'd like to report a domestic disturbance") I basically screamed at the top of my lungs. "Oh not this bastard!" WTF could he possibly have to add to this show with the exception of his extra wackness? Then the low budget Vanilla Ice proceeds to plug his new corny CD?? Flag on the play folks! 5 min penalty, do not pass go! You've gotta be kidding me! This is when I realize I spend way to much time watching tv. Sad but true. In any event, if someone has an idea for how to get this assclown in blackface off my TV I would be very appreciative. I might even find a way to somehow repay the individual.

Beyond that, I need to go, the pictures are starting to fuck with my sanity, and I may start trashing my own apartment in a fit of rage.