Tell Me When To Go

Well folks the time has finally come for me to move. I know you are thinking "didn't she buy that place a month ago?" Well, yeah but it really hadn't ever been updated.....ever, like since ground breaking, or inception or Methuselah's first birthday. I am not saying it was unlivable, it just needed some work. Like plumbing, and painting and weather stripping and electrical work. Sure I could have waited till I got in to start this, but really why do that if there is a nice warm bed and a working shower upstairs? Exactly, I am opting to stick it out here until the work is done. I still have a shit ton to accomplish before Friday, but that is neither here nor there. I have to get the electrician in, buy some new overhead lights, a rug for the living room, a new ceiling fan, my garbage disposal running, a few more coats of paint and that's that.

I know I always promise shit like pictures but you know I am not going to do it. I am just trying to get shit together and get my house the way I want. Oh yeah and I decided to be VERY selective about who gets invited over. I am tired of folks treating my house like the damn Greyhound bus terminal. Stopping by is some shit you do to your parents. Don't come through without calling me for real. I am not going to answer the door and I will be bold as hell about that shit. You might see me sitting on the couch watching Project Runway on my Tivo while you ring my brand new doorbell. I am just saying unless you get an invite don't bother. I am trying to make my little old ass home a tranquil and comforting space and you know what that means. Don't make me sing uncle Ruckus song okay?

And yes...my mother has gotten another mover. Don't even go there cause I don't want to discuss it. The alternative is to invite people over to help that I don't want in my damn house. Trust me, I've had offers, but that might mean I have to give you my damn address, and we all know that isn't going to happen. I just want peace and quiet and I may not even have a housewarming come to think of it. People get out of pocket and start bumping into freshly painted walls or breaking up your expensive bar ware. I vote no. Drop a bottle of red wine at the corner and I will send the boy to pick it up. Oh, and can I just give big ups to Home Depot and Lowe's? Y'all know how to work some shit OUT.

Okay, I am going to go drink more wine and call it a night.

Baby All I Want For Christmas Is You

I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby all I want for Christmas
Is you...

Okay enough channeling Mariah although you guys all know how I Stan for her so don't judge me its the holiday season and (yes again) the bible says not to.

Really I am having a very tough time with getting into the Holiday spirit this year. Sure I am excited about my new place and yes I am ecstatic about my new job but damn it something is just missing. I tried going Christmas shopping this weekend, but I just wound up buying a whole bunch of shit for myself. Anytime my focus is on consoling my soul with shoes, clothes and makeup I am not thinking Christmas. I already know why I am like this and its because for the first time in 4 years I have no one to lavish my festive holiday spirit and gifts on. I am lonely, and I am sad and I don't know how to do Christmas alone. I can say with all certainty and conviction that not having a boyfriend for Christmas BLOWS.

I am not even talking about getting gifts. I am talking about having that loving warm holiday feeling where you sit and drink wine (yes I know wine again) and play music that has nothing to do with Christmas while you decorate a sad ass plastic evergreen with ornaments that are both too expensive and fragile for your Charlie Brown tree. It bothers me how affected I am by this. How could something so small ruin my entire holiday? My shopping list is practically empty, and the things that I have thought of getting for people aren't very creative at all which is so not like me. I haven't heard my favorite Christmas songs on the radio, we haven't decorated shit unless you count applying primer to dark brown trim and I am just blank.

My heart isn't in it and I think that's cause my heart feels like that random stray ornament that fell off the tree in the middle of the night and shattered into a million mirror like pieces. Am I being dramatic? Yeah possibly but damn it I am not happy and we all know what happens when people fuck with my Christmas Joy. I am supposed to be excited and all I can think is that in less than a month Christmas will be here and so will I, with my brand new house and my brand new job, getting tore the fuck down on a liter bottle of cheap Cabernet and probably missing him and obsessing about where he is and what he is doing....Merry Fucking Christmas.

If someone has a better idea of how I can get back my Christmas Joy without an industrial sized bottle of wine and going completely underground let me know, cause right now that's all I have in the way of plans.

The Good Life

I have that Kanye West song on repeat everywhere. Its on my radio, on my iPhone, its in my head and on my mind every day. What a difference a few months can make. I try not to get myself too bogged down by life most times, but I have to admit that since right before my homegirls wedding life really had me going through it. If you read this thing you have a pretty good idea of what I was trying to handle. I have a real bad habit of thinking that I alone can take on the entire world, be super mom, super girlfriend, super homegirl, super daughter, and super employee all in one. No task too great, no problem too difficult to solve. Well folks, lets just say that I knew something was horribly wrong when people started to avoid my office for fear they might catch me crying....again.

I seriously cried every day, for over a month. Every.single.last.day. It was mostly happening in the office though, which was causing people to peek around the corner to check and see if I was in the middle of creating my own personal river before they came to talk to me. I also gave the hell up on all types of eye makeup. I just cant afford to cry off $22 Dior Show mascara every damn day, I mean its just not cost effective.

Needless to say, my friends were instrumental in getting me to realize what was going on, and that I was just dealing with too much at once. Everyone has a limit, and I had reached mine. So for once, at the constant prodding of my friends and family members, I decided to do the unthinkable and put me first. Gasp! I know I was shocked too, and trust me I fought back, but between the unexplained pains up my whole left side, not being able to eat solid food for almost a month and having severe panic attacks to the point where I was beginning to fear driving, I conceded defeat and just stopped fighting it.


It hasn't been easy, I mean I have had big things on my plate, like my year check up to make sure those pesky pre-cancerous cells hadn't returned. Trying to purchase a condo for me and my son to live in, after staying with my parents for the last year. Trying to manage a super difficult job where things were getting harder and harder to handle and of course, relationship issues on top of it all.

Well, I sit here typing a little wiser, a lot stronger and with the greatest news that I can possibly impart. I am cancer free, I settled on my condo yesterday and best of all I got a new job! A new job that I am so hopeful about. It seems so tailor made for me and I cant wait to hit the ground running. Not only that, but I was so worried that while staying at my current job (which I was told had a lot to do with my inability to eat or sleep) paying for my mortgage would make me pretty much the poorest person alive. Not only will I be able to comfortably pay my mortgage, but there will even be a Christmas for my son this year. This means more to me than you can imagine.

I also started taking Yoga classes to try and get a handle on all this stress. The only issue is that now I am leaving my job and I have to find a new instructor. My gym offers it, but its in the middle of the day and well we all know I cant do that. I will just have to find a way to make time for it because I really think its important.

There are still things that I have to work on, like trying not to take on the world. There are still issues that I feel are unresolved and may never be, but I do know that I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and maybe its only just a little, but that's enough to keep me reaching forward. I really feel like without the help of a few key people these things would still feel so insurmountable, but I am glad to say that Ive been able to get by with a little help from my friends. You know who you are.

Its the good life, better than the life I lived when I thought that I was gonna go crazy. Sing it T-Pain!

Stronger

Sometimes life will throw you for a loop and its hard to get back on track. What I am going to do is try. I had a very weird dream last night and woke up thinking "This is completely insane, look at yourself" and thats just what I did. I looked at myself long and hard in the mirror this morning. I promised myself that I would do better and that I would feel better.

So on the long rainy ride into work this morning I started thinking about all the things that make me feel better. I got a danish, I got my coffee, I popped in Lil John and I sang along. I plan to have sushi for lunch. I am going to hit the gym after work and I am going to try to get it together once and for all. I am going to spend time with my kid and I am going to let my friends make me laugh. I am going to make a phonecall that needs to be made and try to get back what I've lost.

Tomorrow isnt promised so I am going to live like today is the last day, dance like no one is watching and correct the mistakes I make before they snowball out of control because what doesnt kill me makes me stronger.

Thanks Kanye

Flashing Lights

You ever feel like you got a sign? Not one of those "This is the Lord talking" type signs. I just mean a little flashing red light. One that indicates.....well trouble. Two days ago I got one of those signs. Its never all that bad if the sign is just something like "I left the iron on" or "damn I forgot to feed the dog this morning". Okay that iron thing could be a problem, but really who hasn't done that?

The problem comes when your flashing light is about a friend. See, for some folks everyone is their friend. You know the type, acquaintances, coworkers, bus drivers, the guy at the gas station, the lady at the nail shop every damn body. I am not one of those people. I select my friends very carefully. Sometimes I haven't chosen well but typically the people I call my friends have been with me a long time. It takes a lot for me to add you to the fold. You have to be kind, honest and giving amongst other things but mostly I have to be able to trust you. Trust is absolutely number one in my book and once its gone it is damn near impossible to regain.

So, what is the payoff for being my friend you ask? Complete and total friendship loyalty. This means that no matter how great or small the problem, task or situation I will be there. I will hold your hand when you are scared, and I will drive to your house in the middle of the night and feed you chocolate if you are sad, or soup if you are sick. I will bail you out either financially or legally (but only on a pay week) and I will come get you from just about anywhere you might be stranded, drunk, depressed or just generally fucked up anytime day or night. I will laugh with you, cry with you, and help you push your kid out into the world.

I will eat with you, celebrate with you and even attempt to lose weight with you if need be. I will remind you how wonderful you are, how pretty you are and that no man worth his salt would ever make you sad. I will stand up for you, lie for you and even help you plot revenge against those who wrong you. You can trust me with your deepest secrets no matter how awful you think they might make you seem, and I will understand when I don't hear from you for weeks or months because you are embarrassed that you've made the wrong decision...again. I will help you write a love letter, a resignation or one of my famous "hit the curb" letters anytime you ask. I will defend you to the end, I will knuckle up for you and I will threaten to hurt, maim or cut others on your behalf. I will also give you the gods honest truth about a situation if you really want me to call it...but only if you ask.

I am serious about friendship and anyone who I call a friend knows these things about me so it hurts me when I realize that someone I call a friend has broken my trust. Someone I thought was a good friend hurt me today. I wont get into the hows or whys but when that little flashing red light went off, I was instantly angry, then I was ashamed and then I was just sad. I was really so disappointed in the person I called my friend but more than that I was disappointed in myself, because I really felt like I had chosen this person wisely, and their actions said otherwise.

I am not too proud to say that I didn't take it well. I felt underestimated, slighted, used, played for a fool and downright betrayed. It sucks and I was reminded by another very good friend that people who care about you don't treat you that way. So, as I sit here, typing this out, trying to make sense of what just happened I wonder if I give too much of myself to those who I call friends. Then I realized that all the things I've listed that I would do for my friends, they would also do for me, and have done for me. Without questioning or judging or thinking less of me. Like today very good friend Tandis brought me tissues when she knew I was too embarrassed to leave my desk with tears streaming down my face.

So thank you, Dia and Tandis for reminding me that I am strong, and that it makes no sense to cry off $22 mascara. Thank you for bringing me tissues, and cake that you knew I wasn't going to eat but that's beside the point. Thank you for quoting Jay-Z and Baby Boy and even Bad Boy's 1 in order to get me to laugh again. Most of all thank you for reminding me that true friendship exists. I love you both oh and please don't get into any trouble cause its not a pay week.

Love Still Good

Yesterday evening, between glasses of red wine and episodes of Don't Forget The Words, I logged on to my laptop to basically surf the net and try to get my mind off of all the things that plague me. Yes, we are at the plague stage here people. My sanity can be found in a cheap liter sized bottle of Sutter Home Cabernet. Classy

Anyway, I was BS-ing and IM-ing a few friends about various topics of discussion, but the prevailing topic was music. Somehow I have managed to convince myself that no one reads my crazy ramblings but me, which apparently is not the case. I was chatting with a new found friend who apparently reads this borderline tabloid/ case study on psychosis, and I we got on the subject of a previous blog. You know, the one about the guy from Color Me Badd? Yeah I am not going to go there again, but somehow we got around to discussing Chico Debarge.

Chico makes good music, and actually that's an understatement. I instantly fell in love with Love Still Good, which I promptly tried to con The Makeup Girl into giving me when I first met her. She wasn't having any of that though. Seriously I don't know where I was or what my life was like when that album dropped (which is strange for me cause I equate everything with music) but I do remember the video for Iggin Me. It made an impression. Okay not just cause he was half naked in the video but seriously it was one of those songs. I did however note that I had JUST seen Chico in the Trick Daddy video Nan, and that he was fresh off a 5 year bid. Criminal is as criminal does, so I couldn't put too much stock into his sticking around the music scene. How does one disassociate themselves from crime hanging out with the Slip N Slide records camp? No matter, on to the song.

So we discuss a little further what about that song in particular was so wonderful. I don't know if we ever made it to that cause I was off that Cab Sav and not exactly on the straightest path to enlightened discussion, so you know I veered off track. See that song makes me think of Maxwell's "Till The Cops Come Knocking" which of course was my jam for the.longest.time.ever. but I digress, the topic at hand became the state of R&B and how far it seems to have fallen. Frankly I cant listen to my R&B station on Yahoo Radio cause that shit is not what I would classify as R&B. Maybe if it stands for Ridiculous Bullshit then yeah, but not so much what I would classify as Rhythm and or Blues.

I think that there are some folks attempting to bring it back. I mean, I love Robin Thicke and Chrissette Michele and Raheem DeVaughn. I think there is still some soul left in R&B provided it isnt turned into a hybrid of hip-hop and some sort of circus. I know they are trying to pass off Trey Songz, Chris Brown and Lloyd as R&B these days but you'll pardon me if I don't get excited. There is talent there I agree, but not one of them is about to become the next Smokey, Marvin, Luther, or Maxwell. Maybe I am just an old soul which I have been accused of before, or maybe they just don't do it like they used to anymore. None of these new songs have a chance in hell of getting me all hot and bothered.

Music, should have the ability to move you. It should conjure up feelings and emotions not just make you sway back and forth. There are songs that I hear that I will have to change the station in order to keep from crying. There are songs that will make take me instantly back to the moment I heard it. The Spinners "Rubberband Man" - 6 years old in my mother's old Chrysler Lebaron with the burgundy seats. The Manhattan's "Let's Just Kiss and Say Goodbye" - 13 at my best friend Trisha's house, sitting on the floor doing each others hair and singing (Steve Miller Band "The Joker" holds the same memory).

Prince's "Diamond's and Pearls" - Banneker Junior High School Friday night dances, wearing Elizabeth Arden's Red Door and my best pair of Reebok Classics. Guy's "Goodbye Love" or Fredrick's "Gentle" - Myrtle Beach with my Godsister singing to our mixtapes way too loud and wrong for some young girls. Maxwell's Urban Hang Suite "Something Somethin", Donnell Jones "You Know What's Up" and Montell Jordan's "Get It On Tonight" always remind me of dancing at Republic Gardens and Club 2K9. The big one's though are Teena Marie's "Dear Lover" and Anita Baker's "No One In The World" who as a love struck teenager I used to send homemade tapes and lyrics to the boys I liked, only to have them go "What the hell is this song".

Some songs have made me feel vulnerable, beautiful, strong, sexy and like I could be anyone or anything I needed to be. The point is that I really feel like for R&B to be good its gotta stir you in some way. It can't just flow past you like water, its got to grab you and suck you in. That's what I want from my R&B, but I understand that most folks just need to be entertained. I guess that's okay for them, but for me as it stands I want to feel my music, and if I don't then I figure it just doesn't count.

Turn Off That Rap Music!

I am beginning to wonder about some of these new artists (and I use that term loosely) that have hit the scene recently. Keeping in mind that I do listen to some wholly inappropriate and highly ignorant shit on a regular basis, its bad when I cant justify some of the stuff.

Let me take you back with me a bit. I have no issues with rap most times and there is a lot to be offended by in rap music these days. I just happen to be a music person. Some stuff, I cant listen to cause I think they are just being ignorant for the sake of ignorance. Other stuff I can sort of tune out the stupid shit and appreciate the beats, and lyrical flow, not so much content. Folks will rap about anything these days so lets not pretend like I have a great selection of intellectual content at my disposal. If I want to learn something I will put in Mos Def or Common or Kweli but I am not going to get much out of Pitbull or Lil John even though the shit is mad catchy.

Case in point, I am over to my homegirl Dia's house the other night and we wind up watching the video channel. Dia has somehow managed to out grow the infectious beats and rhymes of ignorant hip-hop. Me? Not so much. I know most if not all of the songs, artists, and lyrics. Its that useless information gene I have. I cant remember that my car payment is due on the first every month but I know that Marc Ronson's video for Amy Winehouse's rendition of "Valerie" that just this moment dropped, opens with a short performance by Wale, a local (DMV) hip-hop/go-go artist who is now doing BIG shit across the pond. By the way, Nike Boots is my shit!

Sorry I got sidetracked for a moment, but let me continue. We are watching the videos and of course here comes Gucci Mane, who...frankly I have no words for. Do I like his new song....well, I like it in terms of how Luda is on the remix, but clearly he has ripped off Rick James for the title and the song has zero content. That and he is the ASHYEST man I have probably ever seen in life. Being untalented is one thing, being ashy, ugly and untalented is quite another. In fact any combination of the three is just bad. Case in point, T-Pain. I havent figured out if he is really talented or not. I know he is good with the "Roger from Zapp" voice synthesizer, but shit do I know if this clown can sing really? Everyone wants his ass on a remix, but Lil Wayne's ass is on every remix known to man too, and I have always felt like his shit was questionable. Catchy? YES, valid.....um I still remember that "Block is Hot" bullshit from his Hot Boyz days. I aint forgot Weezy.

T-Pain even has the audacity to nickname himself Teddy P as in (Penderazdoun) and let me tell you, the way that guy looks he would HAVE to sit on my ass to keep me from escaping. Seriously he frightens me and that's tough to do. Plus he hangs out with R. Kelly, and well...we all know where I am going with this one. Don't even get me started on this cat Plies. What the hell kind of name is that anyway? Nevermind, tangent. Seems like today you only need a good beat and a gimmick in order for folks to rush off to buy your bullshit. I mean, I probably contribute to the problem by entertaining shit like "Walk it Out", "Soulja Boy" and "Duffle Bag Boy" but in all honesty I listen to other stuff too, and I dont buy any of that crap so I would like to believe it balances out. All my iTunes money isn't going into Young Jeezy's pocket but its also not in Jibbs pocket either.

I guess it all depends on what you really like. I wouldn't want someone to come and yank my Rick Ross mix tape away from me because they don't like his flow, and I dare someone to touch my go-go. That might get your block knocked off. I guess I can sort of excuse the other shit. Maybe all T-Pain needs is a bath and someone to snatch that damn synthesizer away. Maybe all Gucci Mane needs is a copy of Hip Hop for dummies and a tub of Crisco. Its all in what you will tolerate, and apparently I have a high tolerance for bullshit music. Something tells me though that one day I am going to look back and wonder what the hell I was thinking.

Unwritten

This was going to be an entirely different blog about clothing and my inability to locate an appropriate "anything" at the mall this weekend, but I am not going to go there today. My heart isnt in it and why force it. I will save it for another day.

Last night I was on my computer and I was digging through some of my old files looking for my saved documents for the Mortgage guy. I came across a file full of poems and short stories and all sorts of other unfinished creative persuits. I gotta admit it made me very sad. Sure the blog is good for getting things out, but my real feelings are in those files. I used to write every single day, and I wrote about everything even if it was unpleasent, even if it was crazy. I wrote it all down like a photographer takes photos. They are just tiny captured moments, frozen in time. Every feeling associated with them is as fresh and real as the day I put them on paper.

I miss writing, and really it is how I wound up as busy as I am today. People always ask me how I got interested in my current field, and I tell them that I wasnt, I was interested in a job that would afford me the time I needed to write. Thats how I wound up 10 years in the same industry. I dont know that I actually chose it as much as it chose me.

I used to wait tables in a pool hall down from an office building. Folks would always come down at happy hour and get liquored up after a long day at work. Turns out that while I was working one happy hour shift, I got noticed by a woman and her coworker. They were looking for a receptionist and wanted me to interview. At that point in my life I was sort of tired of the server game. The hours were long and the pay sucked, but I did get a whole lot of free alcohol which I thought balenced things out. One day I will tell you all about the pool hall stories like "3 Convict Night", "The Unstable Samoan" and "Avin Becomes A Bouncer" but thats not where I am going with this today.

So I took the lady's advice and interviewed. It was a disaster actually. I dont know if she was ever acquainted with black people before or what her deal was but she was very nervous about things that employers shouldnt be nervous about. First, I still believe I had a discrimination case against her in regard to my nose ring. She actually told the other woman that they wouldnt hire me because of it, but I didnt learn this until almost a year later. It just so happened that I didnt wear it to the interview. Look, if you pick your potential employees out of the pool hall downstairs at happy hour then you cant be picky about whether or not they have a damn nose ring. Second, the last chick she hired had robbed the petty cash drawer with her lil convict boyfriend and she was super extra pressed about making sure I wasnt a petty thief. Again, its a pool hall, not a job fair. I didnt bother to tell her I was also in the process of divorce, that may have sent her over the edge.

So I was offered the job, and I got it down pretty fast. I started chipping away at my novel again and just when I thought I had hit an everyday groove, I was promoted. Seems I was doing so well in my current position, they wanted me to move up. Move up is good, more pay and experiance meant less time writing. 10 years later I almost never write. I am so busy these days that I dont have time to be creative I just know how to work and go home. After being on the computer all day at the office, the last thing I want to do is go home and spend more time on it trying to create when really all I want my brain to do is rest.

Writing was always my escape. It always made me feel better and it always helped me to get my head together especially when things are bad and right now, thats what they are. A particularly shitty week that carried over into a difficult weekend makes me think that I never should have stopped writing. Maybe I will get back there and finish one of those novels, or start back to writing poetry I thought at the time was so sophmoric and now I realize has so much more meaning than I ever thought. Its my life, and they are like a photos and though they are faded I still remember every moment.

Oh and could someone PLEASE get these fucking rabid ass Redskin fans the fuck away from my door? I understand they are all just chomping at the bit to get into some sort of tangle with me since I am an Eagles fan but really, can I live? I have work to do that doesnt involve discussing the "Eastern Motors" team and their performance on the field this evening. I understand you are all very crunk about it but I would appreciate it if you would go measure your dicks someplace else. Yes, I am an Eagles fan. No, I dont feel like discussing it today, however this type of behavior does make me want to throw batteries. Please ask Joe Gibbs to hold the ruler for you, I am fucking busy.

Money In The Bank

I guess you all have heard about the new Apple iPhone price decrease/new iPod Touch Screen roll out by now. Its been all over the internet and in the paper for the last two days so I am not sure how you would have missed it. Maybe you were working on your drink and your two-step, no matter I will fill you in.

Two days ago Steve Jobs rolled out the new line of iPods with touch screens and new wide screen iPod Nano's. So why should you care about that? Really unless you are a tech geek like me or you never managed to get on board with the iPod thing and have chosen now to do so, it probably wont effect you one way or the other, but thats not the reason I am writing about this really. Its about the whole price drop on the iPhone thing that seems to have caused iNsanity amongst owners. See the iPhone started at a whopping $499 for the 4GB model and $599 for the 8GB. If you read this thing at all, you know I bought one (I mean If I don't do nothin, Imma ball) which I love dearly and think is probably the most fabulous tech gadget I own.

Apparantly, others felt that way too, and shelled out their cash for them too. Fast forward to Wednesday. Folks apparantly are hopping mad that they spent their hard earned cash on an iPhone when they decided to drop the price by $200. The internet is buzzing with salty ass people with their thongs in a twist, losing their damn collective minds over paying extra for the very gadget they waiting in line for. Me? Do I really care about it? Hell no, because I know thats how the world works, and if you want to run a profitable business, sometimes you have to take steps that no one will find cute or popular.

I was reading the Post this morning at o'dark-thirty and there were two seperate articles detailing the anger and hostility that sprang forth from iPhone owners. Some guy was in his feelings so much that he claimed to have sold his stock in Apple. To that I say, you are a fucking fool. Whatever your personal issue with feeling swindled by Jobs and his merry band of iCreators, selling profitable stock is not going to get you your damn money back. Not only that, but why cry about it now? Didnt you get the damn thing long before anyone else had one? Isnt that the price of being first in line? Sometimes you pay for the privelege of owning something before the rest of the population. Steve Jobs would be a jackass and a fool if he didnt continue to create new devices and find new ways to get people to buy them, quit hating on that man and put away the damn pitchforks.

Then I find out that because the iLoones were having a damn coronary episode over their spent money, Apple is going to give early iPhone purchasers a $100 credit. Now, you can say what you want about it, but I am jive happy about that right there. I wont have to come out of pocket for one song, video or movie for quite a while behind that credit so I am quite pleased. All this petitioning and acting upset over spent money is just lunacy, and they can miss me with that for real, I have other things to do with my life.

Speaking of other things, I am in the process of converting my nicely stacked pile of chips into a Condo for me and "the boy". I am finally going to get the hell out of that house with the old folks. I cant tell you when I am moving, or where (yeah, like I would really say) but you can bet your ass one thing. I will not be using a damn moving company again. U-Haul is about to get my paper. We arent going to have another "situation" like we had last October. I dont care what anyone says, that shit will not happen. Perhaps I may have a story or two about the process but I promise it will be nothing like last year.

Other than that, I missed out on taking a trip down to S.C. with the family today. My great aunt is turning 90 and I was invited to attend. I was going to take "the boy" since he doesnt really know that side of the family too well, and make a side trip to see my old pal Tricia who doesnt live too far away from where we were going. That ALL went the hell out the window when I realized that no kids were going, so of course "the boy" didnt want to go. Then dad decided he was staying, which meant there was no need for me to drive. That would put me smack dab in the middle of my mother and her two sisters, in a car for 10 hours.

Yeah you are probably thinking, "how is S.C. 10 hours from D.C.?" I have pondered that too my friends, and since I have actually made it to Atlanta in 10 hours, the logic of this lengthy car ride escapes me. All they will say is that they "take their time" when they go to S.C. Taking your time is one thing, but 10 hours is some real different shit. If you remember this story, then you'll understand why I have no interest in being trapped in a car with those old biddies for half a day, so I hope they take pictures.

I'll Even Cut My Hair And Change My Name

So I chopped off all my hair. Yeah, I couldnt think of a good way to start this post so I figured I would just come right out and say it. After weeks of torturing my poor hair with bonded tracks and attempting to go back to my regular hair style after removing them, I was just fed up with it and had Ana hack it off. I havent had short hair since my son was a baby, but I know I like it. I also know that its very freeing. Its light, and its beautiful.

So as the hairdresser is chopping down what could only be described as a lopsided flaxen briar patch, I was texting with a friend who I thought was going to break out into that line from International Players Anthem "Dont do it! Reconsider, read some literat-ure on the subject" cause she was highly upset with me for even suggesting I was going to cut it.

I tell you like I tell her, its hair and it will grow back. Seriously, I am not all that attached to it. In fact as I was toting around that full bag of tracks last week I was very unhappy with the prospect of having permanent long hair. It was hot, and I had to spend way too much time dealing with it. Pressing it, curling it, trying to keep it out of my face. I understand that long is the way to go for a whole bunch of folks, but for me, I am going to keep it easy. It cant be so bad, I got more compliments on it in an hour than I ever have on that look I was sporting before. God bless the Dominicans.

I think I just needed a change really. So many things in my life are so heavy right now, and I just need something to be young, fresh and new if you get my drift. I even managed to soak off those acrylic nails I was ever so fond of.....yeah right. I guess for me, my worth doesnt come from a head full of hair or a full set. No, I seem to manage just fine without them.

Other than that, life is starting to return to normal I guess. The old folks returned from their jaunt around the world. They are both violently ill and I have been trying to quaranteen them both to no avail. I dont understand what it is with sick folks and touching things. Just go sit somewhere already.

The whole issue with the starvation weightloss worked out, but today was the very first time I have had the opportunity to go to the gym, but hey what do you do. At least I havent gained any weight since the wedding. I promised my homegirl that this time next year we would go to Ocean City and I would be wearing my old small swimsuits. Two-piece mind you! I dont play, I keeps it real.

Okay, I have to go practice the Cupid Shuffle so I can show up/embarrass my son. What are mom's for?

Bury Me In 93

Pour out a little liquor, bury me in some Used jeans
A Champion top and a cherry push pop
Bury me in 93, nothin more nothin less,
When I get where I'm goin, I just gotta be fresh


Okay okay maybe I am being a touch dramatic, but if you had seen what I saw last night, you might recite Young Jeezy lyrics too. Last night I witnessed something so heartbreaking that I may never recover. Sit a spell and let me tell you about it.


So "the boy" and I have been home alone for the last few days while the old folks jaunt across the Mediterranean by cruise ship. I am sure they are having a blast. Me and the boy are actually having a blast too, its called peace and quiet. Since the wedding I have been attempting to catch up on my reality TV. I missed a lot, and I have to apologize for promising to review SYTYCD this year and totally giving up mid season but I hear Sabre won and deserved it.


I've been a bit on the stressed out side and trying to lose an enormous amount of weight in a really short period of time. I was going to write about the "dress debacle" while it was occurring but I figured Dia might read it and have a panic attack. Long story short, since February I have gone from 175lbs to 150lbs. That last 5-10 being the hardest to budge and though its not right, I went on a starvation diet for two weeks. The dress fit, and I stopped living in the gym and off tomato, cheese, water, red bull and apples. Don't try that at home kids. There is nothing cute about hypoglycemic attacks while driving...trust me.


Anyway, I am getting sidetracked (its probably residual hunger) so back to my reality TV catch up. Last night I watched one of the Rock of Love episodes (highly recommended reality filth) and this new show came on behind it. Mission: Man Band.


Now I had heard about this show in passing, but I didn't know who the hell was on it or really what the hell it was about. I know yall think I spend my whole life memorizing rap lyrics and watching trash TV but really there is more to me than that. Well, after that diet there isnt much of anything left of me so I will just stick to the topic. While I was busy sitting around cursing these damn acrylic tips and trying press and curl a head full of bonded Yaki #4, I realize that the boys (excuse me Men) on this show used to be real life performers.


We have Chris Kirkpatrick from NSync, the kid who wasn't the Lachey brothers or the funny looking kid from 98 Degrees, The guy who sang that one annoying song about girl and Abercrombie from LFO and some fat guy in a hat with a beard. Who the hell is that exactly???

So I paid it no mind, kept on flat iron curling the nonsense on my head when I hear them start talking about the fat kid and drinking. Seriously WHO IS THAT GUY??


That's when I got out my trusty iPhone (yes I bought one, don't judge me the bible says not to) and started trying to Wiki this Mission Man Band show, when suddenly I heard the guy's name. Bryan Abrams. Shit, I know that guy, why do I know that guy I am thinking and suddenly, they flash on his face and it hits me like Blake hits Amy Winehouse at 4am.


OH SHIT! That's BRYAN.


Yeah so you are lost right now, but I am seriously still traumatized by my revelation. Bryan is the Bryan of Mark, Bryan, Kevin and Sam Color Me Badd fame. The same Bryan that I spent countless hours drooling over and taping pictures of next to my shrine of Mark Wahlberg in high school. The Bryan that I would probably have stepped over any man (maybe not Marky Mark) to get to just for a few bars of "I Adore Mi Amore".

Coincidentally I had a boyfriend who attempted to sing that song once and almost ruined it for me forever. Thanks a lot Jason Swoyer wherever your ass is. Never mind the fact that I still have the original Color Me Badd CD in heavy rotation on my iPod and still remember all the words to "All For Love" and "Thinkin Back" (okay you see my devotion right) I mean I never gave a damn about the other members of the group, but let me assure you that if Bryan had a fan, it was me.

Yes he came in on my list right under Mark and Jon B (lawd dont get me started) so you know it was serious.

Why am I all hyped up and heartbroken (yes I think I can safely say its heartbreak) about all this. Well let me hip you to a few photos. This was the Bryan I knew and loved back in 93.

And this is the Bryan of 2007's Mission Man Band:

They sorta got him cleaned up for the promo shots but I mean damn is this really better?























Seriously, why am I the last to know everything? Why didn't anyone say something to me about this? Or did no one else know? Just call me on the phone, send me a damn text or something and explain it to me. I mean I am reasonable. It seriously took me half an hour to close my mouth. Then I had to call The Makeup Girl and tell her to turn it on. We just sat in stunned silence. I mean, it was just too much for my head full of weave to process.



I know that not everyone stays the same size forever. I am WELL aware of that fact. I also understand he has had some pretty hard times, some alcoholism, a couple baby mommas and a stint working in a tire shop. I will give him the tire thing, Suzy tells me that they are no bullshit and all she did was truck them from one end of the building to the other.



So now they are a band called Sureshot, which is okay with me I mean....I am a touch too old for boy bands (but for some reason not too old to crank dat soulja boy in a public place) but you know how I feel about reality TV. As long as it doesn't get in the way of Lobster Wars and Anchorwoman (how the fuck did this get cancelled so fast???) I will be okay. Besides there isnt shit on right now, all my shows are on hiatus, and I cant keep watching Ninja Warrior and old UFC matches, its giving me strange ideas and we all know I am not stable. I certainly hope that they can get Bryan to drop a few pounds. I mean I might still have a place in my tiny cold little heart for him.

In the words of Fresh from Crunk & Disorderly "Please put Bryan on the tippy top of your prayer list". We want you to know we do it All 4 Love Bryan.

My Best Friend's Wedding

This weekend, the beautiful Ms. Dia B. became a Mrs. I was so honored to be a part of her special day and to stand up for her as her bridesmaid. For anyone who doesn't know it, Dia is one of my very best girlfriends. Though we've only known each other for a few years, we became close like sisters almost immediately. Its funny, because I have always had people in my life that I considered to be friends, but not very many that I ever felt like I could trust. Dia is just good people. We have been inseparable for years now, and I would feel lost without her friendship.

The wedding was a fabulous event and Dia looked just like a princess. After me and her sisters quit cutting up in the foyer of the church, and we issued warnings to the youngest sister, we made the middle sister go pee for the 50-11th time (she is 4 months pregnant), Juan the matron of honor got her tissue game in check and Tremaine quit dancing, we all got it together and made it down the aisle. Now the youngest and the MOH will cry at the drop of a hat, so I knew they weren't going to make it. What I didn't know was that we would all wind up crying the moment they opened the doors for Dia's walk down the aisle. Seriously....I lost it. I couldn't hold it in because I knew that my best girlfriend was about to embark on a lifetime of joy with one of the greatest guys I have ever met.

EVERYTHING was perfect (well we had a slight hair snafu, but that's unimportant) and I mean everything. The makeup, the hair, the dress, the family, the bridal party, the flowers, the cake the music and even the fuzzy soft slippers you bought for each and every one of us so we didn't have to teeter around on our wedding shoes the whole reception. Dia was perfection, and I am not sure I have ever seen a more beautiful bride. Saturday we were all a family, everyone. Even the boyfriend said that he loved how everyone was so comfortable. You knew that they were there just for Dia and Captain.

So this is for my best friend Dia. I love you, and I am so unbelievably happy for you and Captain and the boys. If you ever need anything, whether its the shirt off my back or the last penny in my pocket, its forever yours to have. I will stand by you, and I will support you and I will always make sure you know that my family is your family. So when you run back your tape of the wedding and you see me crying in my tangerine dress, just know that those are tears of joy, and pride and happiness. Thank you both so much for choosing me to stand up for you, and I will continue to stand up for you and your family forever.

Congratulations Dia & Captain
Love Always,
Avin

You Talk Too Much, And You Never Shut Up

It always amazes me that people think you dont know what they say about you. Case in point, there are a few people that I am WELL aware talk enormous amounts of shit about me on a daily fucking basis. I am not surprized by it and hell they arent all that discrete, but the thing that always trips me out is who they choose to tell. Its funny because for every person that they believe that they are best buddies with, there is another one waiting to sell them down the river. Thats how it works. This is why you keep your head down, and your mouth shut and you dont get too friendly with people.

My mother taught me some very valuable lessons about life when I was very little. They were the same lessons her mother taught her. Perhaps not in the same way, but clearly the message is the same. Its like the paperbag at the grocery store. You dont get paper because its so much sturdier or easy to carry, you get it because its not seethrough, and people cant determine what you buy. That way they cant gossip about what your brand name groceries have to do with how much you make. I hope you dont think I am reaching here, cause I have heard pleanty of people gossip about how much someones shoes might cost or what they drive so dont think groceries arent applicable. Same goes for your personal business, hanging out with people who can effect your livelyhood and trusting strangers. Its stupid and it will always come back to bite you right square in the ass. Dont talk so loud, dont be stupid its easy.

Speaking of asses, I fell on mine Saturday, and I am in agony. Why does every one of my fall stories involve a cute pair of shoes? This particular pair of sandals had super slick bottoms and I didnt realize that low traction on high pyle equals a mid-air free fall. I actually hit the ground running. There was just no way for me to sit or stand or be still after a crash like that. I banged up my ankle, my elbow and managed to hurt my neck in addition to the massive damage I did to my posterior. I have been living off of Aleve for days now, and the bruise just keeps getting bigger. I am just happy I didnt really hurt myself, then I would really be accused of moving too fucking slow. I figure as long as I havent really harmed myself then life will continue as usual. This does put a major kink in my workout regiment. I was getting sort of used to going to the gym 3 times a week, but I dont really think my Latin Fusion class is going to be fun running around shaking a broken ass cheek.

Well my son returns Saturday, and if you know anything about his yearly trip to the sticks, you know that he will probably come back a whole lot thinner. He says that he hasnt been allowed to do much of anything this year. No movies, no pool, and his dad is never home. He is particularly pissed about missing Transformers. I asked him if his hillbilly daddy wanted to see it, but he informed me that his dad is wayyyy too busy working. I started to say that I didnt know carnies and grifters worked that much, but I guess summer is the busy season. I didnt, come on I am mean but I am not heartless...most of the time. I wouldnt say that to the kid, even if I was thinking it.

Oh did I mention that my ex-husband has decided to switch careers? My son tells me he is now running around the country playing "Dog The Bounty Hunter". This of course has me tickled in ways you cant even imagine. This will provide comic fodder for years and years to come, much like his former job as a mall security guard. I couldnt even wait to tell my best friend Suzanne about it. She actually couldnt stop laughing for a solid 10 minutes but before we could even get it together we were telling jokes. Who the hell would hire a former convict as a bail bondsman? He is probably splitting the take with the felons. I mean really, someone explain it to me.

Well, let me go ice my left ass cheek and cut my eyes at some people who deserve it.

Like The Desert's Missed The Rain......

Yes I have been missing. Yes I have an actual explanation but really no one wants to hear it. Basically, I find myself in a bit of a pickle. I have plenty to say but I wont or cant, or both I mean really if you are not going to write it then why go into the reasons.

I am being vague, I know but some of you already know my reasons and perhaps someday soon I will get back to doing what I love here. I just cant see filling my blog full of what I classify as worthless bullshit that doesn't pertain to my life just for the sake of writing.

Sadly, its effected my other blog too. More than anything I am busy and NOT in a good way, so once again I have put off the things I really love (i.e. writing and talking about beauty) to do a rack of shit I fucking hate and that is probably an understatement. I am POSITIVE I will have to hear some shit about that crack too, but take a damn number cause you'll just have to get in line to crawl the fuck up my ass. The line starts back down the block, hope you have a shitload of time to wait.

Other than that, everyone is good. The boy is fine, the boyfriend is fine, my family is great and my friends are happy I love them all.

I hope y'all are good too. I miss you guys truly.

Wipe Me Down

So I have been at the gym religiously (serious pilgrimage type stuff here) for a few months now, and on Monday nights they have a class that I had been dying to try. Of course I knew no one in the class, and that made me nervous. I would just look through the glass longingly at everyone having such a great time and think “I would love to do that…let me get my ass on the treadmill”.
So last week I ran into a friend from high school at the gym, and it turns out she had just finished taking the class I so desperately wanted to join, Latin Fusion. She told me what a great work out it was, and how I should try it with her one day. Well one day was last night and can I tell you that I am sorry I waited this long to get in on it. This is a no bullshit class. We are talking a solid hour of nothing but high intensity cardio masquerading as Latin dance. It was fun, it was difficult, it was painful, it was the best total body workout I have had in years.

The instructor is a lot of fun, and she really gets into the program with us, and everyone is just trying to keep up. I was covered in sweat after the second song, and I looked at my friend Erica and said “What the hell did I sign on for?” The hour flew though, and that hour was more like an hour and 15 min. I gotta admit that if it weren’t for my thighs threatening to give out, I would have kept going. I think you burn somewhere in the neighborhood of 600 calories in that class. She had great music choices and we never stopped moving.

On another note, it so weird that I am running into all these folks from high school again. People I haven’t seen or heard from in years. Folks who I basically forgot existed. Its so strange. I am not opposed to seeing folk from the past, frankly for some of them there are 14 + years that have gone by since we’ve seen each other, so its like getting to know people all over again. We spent a whole extra hour outside the gym chatting and catching up after the class. Life is really good like that sometimes.

So if you don’t know, my best friend Dia is getting married in August, and have a size 12 bridesmaid dress to get my fat ass into. I have designs on dropping at very least 20lbs before then. I have been on No White Stuff for a week and a half now but I went to the damn doctor today and they put my ass on the scale which was a total blower. I know I am smaller than that damn it! Anyway, if their scale is correct I have more like 25 lbs to lose, but between the intense work outs and the carb restrictions, I think I should make my goal by the end of July. Wish me luck folks!

Its Audition Time People

So somehow I managed to miss the whole first hour of SYTYCD auditions! I don't know what the hell I was doing really. Anyway, the chicanery has already begun! Benji's damn sister has entered the competition. What did I say last week??? NO RINGERS and I already smell a fix! Not only that, but that fucking munchkin Shane Sparks is back with his bullshit You Got Served With The Lollipop Guild choreography bullshit. Then I see Wade Robeson's ass which I guess means he doesn't care that they stole this entire idea from him when he created the Wade Robeson Project back in 2003 on MTV but hey who is counting.

Let me tell you, the auditions are pretty wack too, and of course you would expect that to happen, its auditions. You get 30,000 fucked up auditions and like 20 good ones. Some of the folks are just fuckin crazy. Question, where do all these damn itty bitty shorts come from? Are they draws? Are they spandex? I mean seriously where do they come from? Furthermore, those shorts aren't made for minorities. I always see them on little girls with no booty, but never anyone ethnic. Ethnic peoples have ass parts, and more ass parts as they get closer to 30, so those shorts wherever they originate from, are beyond my comprehension. Seriously someone, tell me about the shorts though, cause I don't fuckin get it.

Remember it comes on Wednesday...and would someone please remind my ass cause I cant remember shit.

Mexico Don't Want It With Oprah

Trust me when I say it. If you missed it, last night during the Miss Universe Pageant, live from Mexico, the contestant representing the USA Rachel Smith, fell during the evening gown portion of the show. She was already in the top ten and they were narrowing it down to 5. When they finally cut the last 5 girls, Ms. Mexico was amongst the cut and Ms. USA was in the final 5. That's when the block got hot and shit started getting thick.

Suddenly the audience starts booing Ms. USA during her final question. I am not talking about a few hecklers, I am talking full on boos and hisses and shit. I half expected some "1996 Source Awards" shit to occur. Even the hosts were looking mad uncomfortable. I gotta hand it to Rachel though, homegirl was poised and unshaken by the rude ass boos. That being said, she came in 4th runner up and Ms. Japan won the crown.

Though news outlets are trying to pretend like the booing was about Mexico's disagreement with the immigration situation and American policy, I really don't think its that damn deep. If you are on your home turf and you are ignorant as fuck, and they don't pick your representative over the chick that fell, then your ghetto ass boos. Its that simple, its like the kid who didn't win prisoner ball and now wants to take his ball home.

What Mexico failed to realize in their rush to boo Rachel Smith was that she is a close, personal friend and former intern of non other than Oprah "The Winfrey". Oprah is more powerful than Zeus and richer than god, and she has the contacts, the media access and the strength to wake up on a Monday, and sell a country Tuesday, trust and believe. Mexico doesn't want it with Oprah. Rachel Smith went to the South African Girl's School with Oprah and a cast of other celebrities last year so its not like they just know each other in passing Not only that, but maybe no one else is privy to the info but my guess is OW isn't going to take kindly to them booing a black woman on International TV, one that she personally knows and supports.

Sure she might not do anything. She might not even say anything, but don't you wonder if last night while laying in bed with Steadman, watching that shit go down she didn't lower her reading glasses and give Steadman the side-eye and say "Meet me at the border...its going down" ala Young Joc? Shit, there are a whole lot of folks that I don't particularly think its a safe bet to fuck with, but on the top of my list is OW. She looks like she would shank and shush a motherfucker in a heartbeat. Don't be surprised if that border fence is built within the week, you know she could get buck and have Steadman, Dr. Oz, Gayle, Rachel Ray, Bob Greene, out there kickin Mexicans back over the border while Nate Berkus builds the fence out of bamboo and gingham print.

I am just saying it could happen, Mexico if you see Oprah chillin in her beamer, listenin to Ether....you might wanna make for the hills.

Pop, Lock and Drop It..Almost

Just when I thought I might die of reality TV boredom, one of my favorite shows is finally coming back on. If you hung out round here last year you already know that I am prone to re-capping So You Think You Can Dance or SYTYCD (hey I ain't typing all that crap every time).

Don't get me wrong I watch other reality shows, its not an exclusive relationship me and the bad dancers. I love them, they love me, but really I gotta be able to watch other stuff. Charm School, I Love NY, Celebrity Fit Club, American Idol, Dancing With The Stars, The Ultimate Fighter, Deadliest Catch, Next Top Model, Pussycat Dolls, Coyote Ugly....so on and so forth I watch it all but I LOVE me some bad dancing.

If its remotely as entertaining as last season I will be pleased as punch but I don't want any ringers! No more baby boy of the king of east coast swing and his damn cousin. That shit is a fix if you ask me. No more vane egotistical shirtless boys from Slavic nations either, and I like shirtless boys! What I do hope for is more twirling boys and fast stepping girls who do big things to popular music that I couldn't with two pints of Ciara, a dash of Chris Brown and two fifths of the Godfather of Soul. You know you love it.

Oh and I might also recap the highly unpopular (but not nearly as unpopular as The Ultimate Fighter) amongst my readers Rescue Me. Was that a collective groan? Yeah well go tell it on the mountain or something, cause that show is damn good, and you don't know what you are missing. The magic that is Dennis Leary just cant be beat, its better than a T-Pain remix.....okay maybe not that good, but I guarantee you would enjoy it if you just gave it a chance.

So that's what is in store for you, and a lot of other really weird post about shit that just doesn't matter all that much.

Later

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day Folks, hope you had a good one.

I know some of the stuff I say here makes it seem like I am not the most sunshiny kind of gal, but on the real, I am happy. Yeah I have my complaints, some of which I talk about, others I just keep to my damn self but personally, when I am not putting up with other folks antics and bullshit I like who I am inside. I don't have any problems with the person Ive become and I don't have any need to apologize for being exactly who I am.

I used to think I had to explain everything I did to every person who just didn't get it, but you know what I really don't. I used to think that I always had to be careful of what I said and did for fear I wouldn't be well received or heaven forbid my ideas may offend others. I don't run around aiming to offend but if you don't like what I have to say that's really okay.

I am probably just happy because I bought a really great dress this weekend. I don't have a clue where I am going to wear this thing, I mean it isn't the type of dress you can just roll out of bed and put on. I wouldn't dare wear it to the office cause its just too fancy for all that. I had an opportunity this weekend to wear it, but I am glad I didn't waste my fancy dress on a snore of a Mother's Day brunch.

Which reminds me I need to go more places that require me to wear clothing that I like, instead of the crap I normally wear. I have really great clothes...most of them on the cusp of being too damn small but none the less they are really great looking. I don't know if I discussed the 300+ pairs of shoes I own, but the summer shoes are by far my favorite. Of course I bought more this weekend, but how do I appropriately wear my new dress if I don't possess the proper footwear?

Mother's Day has been pretty decent so I guess I am feeling pretty good. I am sure someone will waste no time shitting on my good disposition tomorrow well before 9am. For now though, I am happy.

You Can Stand Under My Umbrella ella-ella-eh-eh-eh....

I know I have been gone since before the beginning of time, but Ive been busy. Not just sorta busy but extra busy on a level previously unmatched. I have a ton of observations so I will try to cram it in quick, I know yall got a short attention span and I do tend to go on and on. Come sit a spell.

First lets discuss Amy Winehouse and the amazing concert I attended with my friend Tia this weekend. Not only was the ride and the company and the picking through tons of vinyl really a great time, but the concert (despite the lack of seating) was great too. I had an absolute ball, and Amy was not too drunk or belligerent. My real fear was that she would go on some sort of bender and not make it to the show, but she was great and there were no issues.

Next up, I quit the whole UFC Ultimate Fighter thing...I told you I might. Its just too much for me. The boyfriend is watching it, but frankly I have other shit to do.

Ive been going to the gym religiously since March but I really haven't done much talking about it here. Its like every time I start obsessing about my weight I take two steps backwards. I am not on No White Stuff, but I assume I might get there once my best friend's wedding gets closer. I am down 10 lbs, but you know me, results are never enough.

Speaking of the damn gym, they had a fire alarm yesterday and put us ALL out of the damn facility. I was lucky that it wasn't too cold and that I had just changed, so I had all my pertinent shit with me. I don't leave shit behind to burn up. That's crazy, I may not own a whole lot, but the shit I do have I don't need flame broiled. They let us back in, but I mean damn I don't like having to delay my run for 20 min. I mean I dont like running to start but I did just build up to a solid 15 min, so its important that I stay on track.

I also tried to cut back on watching so much reality TV recently. It seems to be working, either that or all the shows are off right now. I am down to Celeb Fit Club and Charm School. I am sorta following Dancing W/The Stars and Idol, but not really. Most of my TV time is devoted to Ugly Betty, Grey's and Lost. Lets talk about Grey now shall we?

I am starting to be REAL upset with that show. I don't appreciate this "relationship" they pulled out of their asses for George and Izzy. I am mostly having a problem with it because Sara Ramirez is getting shitted on. Shouldn't Izzy be somewhere still crying over Denny? I would be. Why the hell does she want to be with George and why is George such a douche that he would want her? Fuck it, I mean its not about the actors, its about the damn writers and Shonda I need you to get a grip on your people.

I cant think of anything else right now but you get where I am coming from. I promise more later, oh and remind me to tell you all about my "mild" night out on the town.

Saturday Ramblings

So I was all set to review the new season of The Ultimate Fighter, but in all honesty, I don't know that I will even watch it. I wrote a review of last week, which was hella juvenile but I never posted it. It was neither comical, nor exciting. Its was a chore even watching last week's episode and this week was almost worse and if you saw it, you know exactly what I am talking about. If I watch and it gets better I will let you know, but if not the next UFC review you get from me will be of an actual match and not this bullshit.

Ive had a lot of personal drama occurring in my household recently, and all of it stems from an unexpected illness and hospital stay. My dad has been in for a week now with pneumonia and a stomach virus of some sort. Basically, I have spent the last week trying to hold down the fort and keep my son on task. My mother is a totally different story. She is just running herself ragged back and forth to the hospital to make sure dad is okay. I don't even get myself involved in that. Part of me thinks she thrives on it and the other part thinks she doesn't know what else to do. I don't try to understand her cause her logic is so twisted most times.

That brings me to the Virginia Tech shootings. My mother, of course has some feelings about it and if you've ever read anything about her on here you know she has some sort of obsession with outcasts, loners, misunderstood or abused children and the like. So of course, she latches on to the fact that the kid was a loner, and basically I am fearing that we are about to have a new screaming match because anything like that ties directly back to my son for some reason, and then she will have to reiterate how she thinks he is being treated poorly and will turn into one of these children. No proof or evidence to suggest that type of scenario mind you. Just her, feeling that her grandson is weak, mentally challenged, incapable and pathetic yet again. I didn't get involved with it this morning. I just walked away and let it ride. I cant fight the good fight every day, and I wont entertain this nonsense, the kid who killed the students at VA Tech has serious mental health issues and that doesn't have shit to do with her grandson.

It finally got warm this weekend and I am glad to see it happen, but I guess that feeling isn't shared across the board. "The boyfriend" hates the damn outdoors. He hates sunshine and people and life in general I think unless it involves being downstairs in his basement watching TV. Okay, possibly I am being unfair, but every time I want to enjoy a little sunshine or just generally have a nice day outside of the house, I get major static. He is sitting here, right now as I type, watching a movie he has probably seen 50 times, just so he doesn't have to be outdoors, or involved with anything remotely fun. Why sit in the house all day is what I am saying? I blame myself really, I asked him to come down, and I should have just let his ass stay home like he wanted.

Happy Saturday folks.

Inked Till The End

Have I mentioned my love of tattoos? I probably have, I mean it is a huge part of who I am. I don't know how I could have left that part out. Seriously, though I dislike getting them, but I really love the end result. I don't have one tattoo that I don't adore. I couldn't possibly get a tattoo that I didn't feel I would love 40 or 50 years from now. Each is special and unique and perfect for me.

I do have one that needs a ton of work. It was the first one I got when I was 20 and it has not weathered the years very well. Its the only one that has any color, and to be honest it was a pretty poor piece of flash out of a book on a trip to Dallas, Georgia. I got sick, immediately. I have serious anxiety issues and what I didn't know about getting tattoos is that sometimes your body will take over and anxiety will drop you like a stone.

I thought it was just hypoglycemia, but really it was anxiety, so I waited another 4 years to get another. That of course went just like the first, except it was bigger and more involved and it took so.fucking.long. Seriously it took forever, and I talked the entire time, loud and annoying and what I assume to be fast. So here I am sweating, and sick, and talking a mile a minute. I must have been a pain in the ass.

I think it was 4 or 5 years ago when a friend decided he was getting these tattoos he had been yammering about for years. Okay that's probably not fair, but seriously I had heard about these damn tattoos for nigh on 10 years and I was glad to see him get on with the get on. I came to provide moral support, but trust and believe he didn't need it. See there are a couple types of tattoo people. There are folks like me that hate everything about the experience except the tattoo covered dudes who work in the shop and the end result, and then there are folks who actually enjoy the tattoo process.

My buddy got two gi-normous tattoos across his upper arms/biceps that took at least 3 hours a piece. He did them both in one sitting, with a one hour break in between. He never even flinched and frankly I was both shocked, amazed and horrified (both is two yes I am aware) that for such a skinny guy he could sit and take all that buzzing and digging and I couldn't even get one without trying to regurgitate.

His behavior convinced me I could actually get another tattoo. So I loaded up on all sorts of soda and candy and food, convincing myself it was a hypoglycemic attack I was attempting to stop. I sat down and 3 minutes in, I got sick again. Sheesh you would think I could learn, but no I just had to keep pushing it. That one hurt too, it was in the worst possible place and it felt like someone was digging into my spine with a hot knife. Why couldn't I be calm like that guy getting the huge Koi tattoo on his back as he snored. Re-fuckin-diculous!

The thing about tattoos is, if you get one its almost impossible to stop. Something about getting ink is so addictive. It becomes something you need to do, not so much want to do. For me its being able to have something so completely different and special that no one really knows about. Sure people who know me, know how much I love them, and know that I have them. I don't tell other people, cause there is a whole lot of non-judgemental judging that goes on when you tell someone you have even one.

If they have some preconceived notions about them, suddenly it becomes one of those things where they have to pretend to be cool with it. Or they have to try hard not ask you insulting questions about it. Its a big mess really, and I have yet to hear anyone formulate a good enough answer other than "I wanted to" and you know that never clears up a damn thing to the un-inked.

The other thing about tattoos (I am ashamed to admit) is that I love tattooed men. A man almost always gets extra points if I think he is attractive and then I find out he has tattoos. I love tattoo artists, I love tattoo apprentices, I just love tattoo culture. Sheesh its hard to explain but I just had this discussion with a friend of mine and she agreed 100%.

I guess I am lucky, I don't catch any heat for my ink, my mother thinks the tattoos I have are beautiful and secretly wishes she were brave enough to get her own 15 year old butterfly re-touched. My son loves them and plans for the day when he can get his own, my boyfriend is covered in them, and my closest friends have them and find them as wonderful as I do. Yes, I am very lucky indeed. My inner circle finds no fault with my choices, and I love them for that.

So I find myself healing new ink. It is by all accounts the most intricate and beautiful piece I have. Its also the one I am most proud of, because not only does it mean so much to me personally, but its the very first tattoo I've gotten where I didn't get sick. I cant stop looking at it and its inspired several people to go back and work on their own canvas. Its a work in progress and the first tattoo that I am not sure will ever truly be complete. I have plans for it, and its not even a full week old.

Can I say that I am finished? Hell no, I will keep getting tattoos for as long as I have enough skin and hiding places. The day it bores me, the day it becomes an afterthought and not a way to beautify my personal canvas, the day I cant wear a tank top and shorts without folks having a complete tizzy, then I will stop. Not that I would ever wear shorts, come on people I am crazy not stupid. I love what I have done to my body, and with every new piece I feel a little more settled.

Jesus Take the Wheel! UFC Edition

My beloved Georges St. Pierre has lost the UFC Welterweight title! All is lost and I fear I may never be right again. Okay I know that was dramatic but seriously GSP is the man, and how he managed to lose is just incomprehensible! I never thought I would say it but “I am not impressed with your performance” GSP. You let me down homie. Will I ever be able to chant along with the TV audience “GSP, GSP?”

I knew that shit wasn’t going to be an easy fight. Matt Serra is the beast and he proved it on last seasons The Ultimate Fighter: The Comeback. I was seriously rooting for him and you know what? He delivered. He never once disappointed me. He has a killer game on the ground, and he is probably as good inside the octagon as he is a coach. Seriously Matt worked his ass of, which is why GSP should have been on his game. He knew what he was up against. I mean sure Serra is no Hughes, but shit I could be totally wrong about that shit too. Looks like Serra’s first defense of the title is with non other than that cocky fuck Matt Hughes. There is already some simmering bad blood between them after Hughes visited the house during TUF4.

Seriously thought GSP, why? Just why? I was never as happy as I was the day you worked Hughes over took the title away. I could see it in your face man, you wanted that title and you were going to get it by any means. This shit is just perplexing, and frankly with a body like that, I should be able to see you kickin ass, holding the title belt over your head for years to come. Fuck I am getting depressed again, let me move on.

Speaking of bad blood, apparently there is or was a fight between Tito and Dana White??? This I have to see. I have long held that something was not quite “managerial” about Dana White’s physique. He doesn’t look to me like he spends all day signing checks and contracts (thought I know he does) just sitting on his ass bullshitting. Naahh, that man works out, and hardcore. Apparently, I am right because I found out recently he is a former boxer. This thing is supposed to be to settle some differences he and Tito have or had in the past, and its purely for shits and grins. Its not a PPV bout, its not a UFC:50-11, is just a plain old match between the two, where I pray Tito doesn’t pound the shit out of Dana so badly he cant go back to signing checks. Oh and Tito, please for the love of god can you get your girlfriend a damn sandwich??? She looks crazy these days and a whole lot like MumRaah. Its not a good look, so toss her a protein bar and one of them damn EAS shakes. Hurry, the gossip bloggers are having a fuckin field day.

So I realized this weekend that I had missed the first episode of The Ultimate Fighter 5. I did however check out the website and let me tell you I am not impressed. Where did they gets these dudes? There is not a Mike Bisping, a Ed Herman or a Kendall Grove amongst them IMO. The previews look like some drama time bullshit too. They are up in the house bumping chests and measuring dicks already. I mean, a little bit of drama is necessary to the show, like when Shoney Carter was throwing those damn water bottles in the pool and be-dazzling all his damn clothes, or when Chris Leben pissed on Jason Thacker’s bed in Season 1. All that shit is super important to how much the fighter wants to tear someone’s head off in the octagon. All I am saying is these dudes look like straight bitches, and someone better step up fast or I will be pissed off.

It's Spring Again

Spring here in the DC Area can mean a lot of things. First and foremost it means that the weather will be hella unpredictable. I never understand why folks get so excited and confused by temporary breaks in the weather. Its Spring people, not summer. Put your damn clothes back on. We had one 80 degree day and suddenly the population loses its mind and starts breaking out the flip flops and shorts. Oh and let me not even get started on the open toe shoes. It was March, and it had snowed just the week before, but I guess that one day was enough to make everyone kirk out and think it was Summer.

I bet it wasn't summer a day later when it was 40 damn degrees and no one had a coat or even sleeves. I bet it wasn't open toe shoe weather when that driving rain was coming down and it was 35 that evening huh? I say it every year but I am going to make it known here that March does not equal Spring in Washington DC. If you got cold, soaked, or were generally caught off guard in your summer clothes then it serves you right. Put some damn clothes on and act like you have an ounce of sense already.

This weekend we went down to the Tidal Basin to see the Cherry Blossoms, which was very nice. Of course there were some fools down there in their shorts and fuckin flip flops freezing their fool asses off. It was 6am, it was 40 degrees and I had on a damn coat and some clothes cause my momma taught me common sense as a itty bitty child. Here are some of the pictures we took.

So to address "Spring" let me start with this. When digging through your clothes from the previous year. Try them on first I beg you. Do not keep or put on anything that is going to leave you looking like an exploded can of biscuits. If there is any doubt in your mind whether it looks crazy or not, ASK someone. Do not hop on the Red line and spend half the ride tugging at your pants. Do not show the office the upper portion of your breasts in a top made to fit your son. Do not wear your "club gear" to the damn office. Its super unprofessional and just tacky as fuck. A good way to check and see if its appropriate is to ask yourself if you have ever "gotten low" in any portion of this outfit. If so, its a poor choice.

Please fix your damn toes before you go running out in open toe shoes. NOT that I condone their use until after tax day, but if you must be that bold and retarded go get a pedicure. Above all else, dress appropriately for the office weather. Unless you work for the park service you will not be outdoors. The office will be air conditioned, and probably cold, so tank tops, pedal pushers and thong sandals are also a poor choice. I don't even know why I bother, cause the promise of warm weather does bring out the bammas.

In addition, I need to address this recent resurgence of "Passing". Passing, if you are unaware is something ethnic peoples did in order to gain entry into white society. The would "pretend" to be white in order to reap certain benefits. Now I know some of this still goes on in the black community, but what I didn't realize was how prevalent it is in the Hispanic and Latino communities. I am well aware that their are some folks who would rather be ANYTHING but ethnic, but it doesn't make it right. What you do is deny yourself the opportunity to learn and embrace your own heritage.

Trust and believe that most folks will know that you aren't white, and all the wishing and the praying in the world wont make you become white either. I just cant figure out how someone would so deeply hate their own race that they would pretend not to be it at all. I find it sad, and I also find it embarrassing but I guess if your intent is to assimilate and become more than what you think your race can be, then you don't care how it looks.

Its crazy to me because I remember growing up and having people assume my mother was white, and it used to make me so angry I would want to fight. Not because it wasn't feasible for my mother to be white, I am pretty damn light, but because I was proud to be black, and happy with my blackness and I didn't feel any different than any of the darker kids in my school. Back then, it was an insult and the folks who said it, used it as such.

My son, (though half white) is a black man. He isn't a mulatto man, he isn't a biracial man, he is black. There is no confusion in our household about that. He needs to be aware that no matter how light he is, and no matter who his father is, no one is going to look at him and mistake him for a Caucasian. If he gets into trouble, he will be treated like a black man. If he goes for an interview, they will see a black man, and when he gets a job he will have to work twice as hard just like he does in school just to be on the same playing field.

He absolutely will be subjected to racism, the black tax and stereotyping. He is and will be treated differently all of his life, and no one is gonna stop to ask what color his dad is. These (though I am quite sure some folks wont believe it) are the cold hard facts and frankly if I don't prepare him for that, then I have failed at my job as his mother.

I would love to see a day when folks aren't ashamed of their heritage. I would love to see a day when people aren't afraid to check the box they belong in. My guess is though if this is still happening today, its not going to change in my lifetime and that is a sad realization.

Criminal Minded

I have a strange hobby, and its probably not nearly as strange as I think. I like googling old boyfriends just to see what the hell I come up with. I never had a hit until recently which shocked me to shit of course. I dated quite a few guys in my life who just swore that with time and opportunity they were going to become "Big Shit" but so far I havent seen any of that happen. Guess we cant all be famous, but for those of you still waiting to make it big I wager you'll never do it like this. I ladies and gents can officially say that I dated a Federal Inmate. Something about that just cracks me up.

I dated inmate number 7779311 [1] back before I figured out that not everyone in life was on the up and up. I was 15 and he was 23 and I met him on my way back from the grocery store. It was summer, I was irritated with my little high school boyfriend and I was walking, he was driving and frankly that should have told me something right there. Silly me, I was in my rebellious stage and the idea of a 23 year old boyfriend sounded like the perfect bad girl thing to do.

Of course that decision was all sorts of wrong. I never bothered to ask what the hell a grown ass man would want with a 15 year old, or why he seemed to always have other peoples car titles. I didnt ask questions about the several different vehicles he would show up in, or how none of his stories seemed to make any sense. Partly because I liked bad boys and mean men, partly because I really didnt care all that much and I was still in school. It totally wasnt a serious relationship, it was just me, classic Avin, acting out.

Shortly before summer ended I got back with my high school boyfriend, and just stopped calling him. He went back to whatever rock he crawled out from under and that was pretty much that. I always wondered about him though, he had a very unique name and an even more unique story. His bayou upbringing and his funky bullshit stories always made me wonder what the hell was really going on with him. It was another life ago, and honestly I knew he was some type of criminal, but whether he was a petty dealer or an actual felon I never figured out...till today.

I had just got off the phone with a friend from his home state, and she was telling a story about another criminal she knew when she was a young girl. Come on ladies we all have the "I once dated a bad boy" story so lets not pretend that we didnt m'kay? Her story totally reminded me that I had my own convict story. So I got to picking around online and googled his name and there he was in all his glory.

The charges? Identity theft of 3 seperates professional atheletes and credit card fraud. Apparantly he has been at this since at least 1995, and to make matters worse, the cops knew who he was and had been after him for years. I'll hip you to a passage from one of the news reports:

The Feds think "Jailbird" found out they were on to him. Police staked him out and spent a day casing "Jailbird's" assumed hideout, but they think he got the heads up and bounced. Police indicated that "Jailbird" had a set of brass ones, and called 5.0 talkin about "You aint fresh as I'm I'z, ya'll got 2 months to get your shit together...good luck". Repeated attempts to catch his triflin ass went awry.[2]

It was by luck that they apprehended his ass in the first place. I think there was some sort of registration problem with the car, and the girl who was driving took off and led them on a police chase. When they finally pulled them over, she had no clue what his name was other than the the middle name he had given, and he had all three ID's on him with his face in place of the celebrities.

Funny stuff if you ask me, cause my first thought was that he looks nothing like those guys. AT ALL, and not only that the guys dont look alike. I wonder who was falling for this con? Anyway, it looks like he is doing a 9 year bid in the Federal Pen and frankly I find it funny. No I dont find identity theft funny, but I do find stupid criminals to be hillarious. Remember I have to get my dose of ignorance from somewhere and "I Love NY" is just about over so sue me. [3]

[1] My favorite song from "The Time" and I love a good music reference.
[2] Sorry, yall know I cant type what was really said, even though I pretty much translated the article verbatim , my version was a shitload more entertaining anyway.

[3] I know what you are thinking, that chick is really crazy well you would be right but dont judge me the bible says not to.