The Top 10 Things that Never Cease to Amaze Me

10. Alcohol at a Baby Shower. I went to a Baby Shower that was unlike any baby shower I have ever been to. The lights were dim, the DJ was spinning, full stocked bar, dudes hitting on girls (ummm sounds like a disaster waiting to happen given the setting), and children doing the Soulja Boy dance all over the damn place. Is this a club??? While I enjoy a good partay and I tend to party like a rockstar, this is too much. A friend of mine makes the best rum punch EVER!!! But I couldn't enjoy it like I usually do, especially when a 4 year old tried to take my cup thinking it was Kool-Aid and had a certified fit when his mother took it out of his hands. I spotted the Baby Momma to be talking to a group of friends who all had cups of rum punch in their hands. You could see the look of "oooh I want some" gleaming in her eye. At my baby shower, there will be no alcohol. If I can't sip (as my Granny used to call it...hahahaha), you can't either. hahahaha

9. Smelling Weed in the morning. A crowd of people got on the train and stood all around my seat. As the doors closed, I couldn't help but detect a very distinctive fragrance. A strong aroma of it floated through the train car. I almost thought someone was bold enough to light up on the train (which by the way would have been hilarious if undercover officers were in the car). Whoever it was, they reeked of Mary Jane. Their coat, their bag, their newspapers, shit maybe even their pores wore the fragrance as if it were a new bottle of cologne. Damnit its 8 in the morning!!! Did you really have to light up this early in the freaking morning?? Is life really that hard??? And lets be clear this wasn't some "I smoked last night with my dudes down the block" smell, this was the "okay I have to walk three long ass blocks to the train, might as well light up" aroma. How can someone walk into work smelling like that?? Are you really climbing the corporate ladder?? Well, if they work for High Times magazine, then maybe showing up to work smelling like marijuana is a ploy for the corner office. Good luck with that.

8. White people who want to touch my hair. Since I've been rocking the natural do, this phenomenon always make me chuckle. Yes I understand that the texture of my hair may not be something they are accustomed to, but what makes you think I want your hands in my hair??? And don't get offended when I say "No" or pull back when I see that hand reaching up towards my head. Can you walk up to the Mona Lisa and just touch it? Can you reach out and touch the President without the Secret Service tackling you to the ground(if they do, can you scream out "Don't tase me, bro!"? That shit is hilarious!!!! )? Can you just reach over and take food off of a stranger's plate??? Hell no. Its rude. Get over it. And stop trying to touch my hair.

7. People who question my parentage. Now this has been a long running joke with my Georgia crew from college, so I expect it from them and if I were a conspiracy theorist, I would think they are telling people to question me so they can get a good laugh. But please people, don't get offended when I look at you blankly because No hablo espanol. As my country folks would say: My momma black, my daddy black. First of all, I don't see me as looking like anything else but African American, but I've heard Dominican, Puerto Rican, or "ummm, so both your parents are black? really???". Yes really. I love the politically correct inquiries the best. "Oh where are you from?" "Here." "No, like where is your family from?" "Umm, here" "No ummm, I mean like, ummm what's your, ummm, background?"

6. People who believe that George Bush is a great President. What more is it going to take??? Video surveillance of he and his cronies laughing at how much money they have made since he moved into the White House while most can't afford to fill their gas tanks?? Jesus testifying before Congress about the sins George has confessed??? Osama Bin Laden writing a tell all book??? I'm just saying.

5. Speaking of politics, Rudy Guilani. With his comb over and his lisp, is this really someone we want representing us as the leader of this country? Aren't other nations already laughing at us because of our current leader?? Looney Tunes was right: Daffy Duck was never the leader of anything. His plans always failed. He got no respect. He wasn't your favorite character. And his lisp was annoying as hell. I'm not even going to get into Rudy's whole exploitation of September 11 to improve his image. But do I really have to hear him refer back to how magnificent a leader he was on that day for the rest of the election process?? Give me a break already.

4. Parents who thinks its cute or funny when their children behave as adults. Whether its a 4 year old cursing like they have a standup routine on Def Comedy Jam or an 8 year old dropping it like its hot, complete with splits and sex like body motions. Yes, I have no children so you may say I am sitting high on my throne making judgements but come on, you know I'm right. I don't need to give birth to know right from wrong. That 4 year old will soon be a 14 year old cursing you out (or worse) and that 8 year old will be doing those same dances with pasties on and using a pole as a prop. I wonder what is it going to take to raise children as children??

3. How on days when I absolutely feel like crap, I get hit on by a hottie. Where is the logic in this??

2. Big Perm. Now those who read my blog regularly, know that Big Perm is a black "leader" in this country. While I applaud his efforts at times, I wonder what his true agenda really is. All that protesting for Don Imus to lose his job, and now he's okay with the man landing a lucrative deal on another station. How much of that lucrative deal is going to Big Momma's Press N Curl????

1. Damnit, there are a million things that never cease to amaze me like the ease of a conversation when both parties are in sync, the flower that grows in the middle of the concrete. If you want a Top 10 list, watch Letterman. ahahahahahaha

Smooches!

Oh by the way, American Gangster is amazing. And no, I didnt see it bootleg. hahahahaha
Go to the most suburban theater you can find to go see it, so you can actually hear what's going on! ahahahahaha

It’s been brought to my attention that out here in the World Wide Web or the Internets like old folk say, there are some who have taken offense to my blog. Some who think I’ve crossed a line by writing about people I encounter. Some who even think that anything I’ve written here is a lie or negative in connotation.

I started this blog as an outlet – a freedom of expression if you will. I chose to write about things that occur in my life. Key phrase: MY LIFE. Yes, I know that I’m not an island so obviously my life experiences involve others whether directly or indirectly. And those people are extensions of my experiences, and sometimes they become a topic of a blog either directly or indirectly. But if you read carefully, while a person may be mentioned in my blog, each entry always refers back to me. Back to what I think or feel about a situation. Back to me questioning decisions I’ve made. Back to me wondering out loud about things that occur in my life. I am the butterfly and this is MY REFUGE. Not yours.

So here’s the thing. If you don’t wish to possibly be a topic of my blog, don’t enter into my life. Stop contacting me. Stop entering into my personal space. Stop giving me material. For some, I can’t help if what you see written here is negative – that’s the material you’ve given me, I won’t spin the facts to make you look or feel better about yourself or to your fans.

And since I’ve brought up this little thing called fact, let’s talk about it for a minute. The fact is I am a woman of my word. While I may have a horrible habit of arriving late to damn near every event (yes I am working on it…hahahahaha), I pretty much do what I say I’m going to do or what I’m not going to do. Those whom I have embraced and welcomed into my life, know that if I say I’m going to do something for them no matter how big or small or tiring it can be, it’s done. I stick to it. Once I make up my mind, that’s it. Case closed. I mean, shit. I chose not to speak to my father for 2 years because of some perceptions I had of him and issues we had. I’m not saying this as something I am proud of but there was nothing no one could say, that would make me speak to him, and trust me I heard it all. I am proud of the relationship I have with my Dad now. I needed those years apart from him to grow as a woman and to see him for the man that he is and not who I expected him to be. I tell this to say once I’ve made a decision about something that I feel strongly about, that’s it. It’s final. Nothing will sway me. This is what I know about me. This is my fact.

So when I tell someone LEAVE ME ALONE or STAY THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE, I pretty much mean it. How much clearer can I get??? There is no shade of gray in those statements. There are no maybes hidden in there. There is no room for freaking interpretation. These aren’t statements I’ve had to say often in my life but if I've gotten to the point where I have to verbalize it, then I’m pretty much done. I've posed the following scenario to a few friends: If someone told you to leave them alone, and he/she refused to answer any phone call, respond to any email, or acknowledge your presence in public, would you continue to reach out to them? The answer I've gotten every single time is HELLLL NOOOOO. Something about pride and having some self respect always enters the conversation.

So some may ask: Why do you continue to write about someone who you are done with? Don’t you have anything else to write about?? The answer is simple. Nothing else works. And I’m hoping this will open people’s minds to honor my request. It’s not about hatred toward anyone. Hatred requires too much energy and I have too much going for me to waste energy on such a useless emotion. I've said time and time again: I hate no one, I just love me more. But feel free to hate on me, haters. I’m not afraid. (Wait didn't I say that in another blog??? Guess, some people just didn't get the message.) I have told people to their face, via email, phone and text that I don’t want to be bothered. I have ignored people for months, thinking eventually they will grow tired of being ignored. I have changed my routine so as not to deal with the foolishness. I have even gone so far as to seek out legal advice about filing a harassment complaint before the 3 am phone calls finally stopped. But when someone keeps invading your personal space with threats of: “you sucker! I still got your sexy ass no matter what you say or do” or messages of “I truly don’t give a fuck about you” or publicly implies a threat " to back off" and that “it can get real nasty and ugly real quick” because the person you are referring to (I wonder who) “isn’t built like that”, no one really blames me when I’m not responsive to the messages of “maybe we can have a soda at the Heights” or “maybe one day we can be friends again”. I’m sorry. Will all of my friends who have lied to me, threatened me, disrespected me , told lies about me, continued to harass me and who forcibly try to infiltrate my life despite my repeated objections, please stand up???? Go ‘head, I’ll wait! (SIDEBAR: gotta say it like Kat Williams for the full effect of the sarcasm. Hahahahahaha)

And the end of all this, I’m tired. Tired of the invasions. Tired of the threats. Tired of the olive branch of friendship laced with thorns to hurt me in the end.

So here’s the deal, to those out here in the World Wide Web who have a problem with my lil ole blog, you have 2 options. 1. Don’t read my blog. Erase it from your favorites. Never visit my site. If you never read it, how can its content upset you? It’s like cable TV. With so many options, there is no need to watch my channel. Watch someone else’s. 2. Stop giving me material to write. Yes, I know I’ve said this before but I think it’s such a good idea that it's worth mentioning again. If you stop trying to invade my life, I will have nothing to question, nothing to wonder about, nothing to write about. The Earth is big enough for all of us to exist peacefully, just stop trying to be a part of my world. Enough is enough.

To all of my fans, I apologize for this rant. Think of this as your favorite programming being interrupted by a Presidential speech. Thankfully, I have a better command of the English language that the man who lives on Pennsylvania Avenue and I didn’t tell any gynecologists to spread their love to women across the country. Hahahahahahahaha

We will return to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

Weekend Recap:

OK. Normally, I wouldn't do a recap like this. I would rather have written each day as its own entry. Explored it and my feelings and make it all tidy in a nice bow at the end. However so much has gone on, and its all swarming in my mind that I can't help but release it here. So while it may not be a normal entry, its something, right? But hey, when have I ever been "normal"?? Hahahahahaha

Tuesday 10/23:
Yes I'm starting my WEEKEND RECAP on Tuesday because somehow that's when my weekend started. hahahahahaha
Date with Hustle. I had a meeting for a class that I teach on Saturdays(sure to be a future story in there somewhere) and went to his house afterwards. The plan was to meet up and then go out for dinner. When I arrived he was knocked out!!! All the lights in the apartment were off and he looked like a 5 year old after nap time : lines on his face, rubbing the cold out of his eye. I felt bad. I know he's been working like crazy, 7 days a week, because of a business venture. I offered to cook but upon further inspection I realized that grocery shopping apparently wasn't at the top of his to do list. So for the first time we had a fast food night. Now, I stopped eating fast food months ago. This was a huge sacrifice for me and hopefully my stomach would forgive me later. Since this is a recap, I will leave you with my thoughts: I need a distraction. I realized this while I was giving a Hustle a full body hour long massage. It's not that I don't enjoy doing that for him (I find it to be actually relaxing) but it feels.....ummm its feels "relationship-esque" and that just not going fly at this juncture in my life. I truly meant what I said about love and relationships. So my mission is to meet a distraction: a guy that I can date, call, and most importantly flirt with to keep everything in perspective.

Wednesday, 10/24:
DeeDee and I attended the Shecky's Beauty Night Out. It's an event complete with vendors, freebies, and booze. I got my eyebrows done by a world renowned, Oprah sanctioned eyebrow studio for FREEEE. I got a cute cranberry red clutch purse for FREEEEE. With 4 alcohol sponsors and not a speck of food in the place, I got quite a buzz for FREEEEEEE. Wait, scratch that. I was drunk for FREEEEE. Thank God DeeDee's boo came to pick her up and dropped me off at home because my drunk ass would have been passed out on the train and probably would have gotten groped for FREEEEEE. hahahahaha. In my drunken stupor, I answered a call from one of my best friends from college. I have no idea what I said to him. Hopefully, nothing about my distraction theory.

Thursday 10/25:
My girl, E. invited me to a professional after work mixer at a trendy, sexy lounge in midtown. On my way home to change my purse (yes I said change my purse), a man sitting across from me on the train asked if I was the woman who had gotten pushed on the train platform a couple of weeks ago. I nodded yes. He informed me that Crazy Bitch had been arrested this morning for doing the same thing to young woman with a child. Aww shit, are you kidding me??? I never reported Crazy Bitch, even though Hustle suggested I should. I don't know why I didn't go to the police. I guess I wanted to just push the unfortunate incident out of my mind, chalking it up to a bizarre story here on my blog. The gentleman on the train suggested I go and report the incident now so that the police know that today's incident wasn't a fluke. So I go home, freshen up my makeup (not for the police, for the mixer), change my purse, and file my report at my local precinct. Yes, the police officer I spoke to was cute but too short for a distraction.
Over cocktails at the mixer (after last night I was keeping it very light...like seltzer with lime light. hahahahaha), I discuss with E. my need for a distraction. While expounding on my theory I couldn't help but notice a very sexy man sitting across the room. He wasn't pretty boy cute but there was something about the way he sat alone in the midst of the crowd that was irresistibly sexy. Broad shoulders, impeccably dressed, and yes a killer smile. E. sends the bar manager over to tell him that I was interested. While I was initially mortified, I was slightly intrigued to see how this would play out. Since this is a recap, long story short, he joined us at the table and I had an amazing evening. He is older than I expected (but no where near collecting Social Security) and he doesn't live here but comes here almost weekly for business (and for this reason I will call him Frequent Flier). He made me laugh and I didn't think of Hustle or anyone else for at least a couple of hours. I must admit E.'s bold move may have introduced me to a bona fide distraction. We'll see how this plays out.


Friday, 10/25:
Pretty uneventful. Got an email from Spalding which left me in a very contemplative mood. Talk about a distraction. Let me clarify. To me, he is more than a distraction but his email is distracting.

Saturday, 10/26:
I missed Frequent Flier's call!!! All because I was being a good Samaritan. I'd spoken to him earlier in the day, and he said he would call later on in the evening. I had plans to meet up with E. for a night of karaoke. On my way to meet E. at the karaoke spot, a small group of tourists stops me and asks me for directions (no surprise there!). After I point them in the right direction, I take my phone out to call E. and I see I have a missed call and a voicemail alert. I looked at the unfamiliar area code and knew exactly who called. I tried to call him back, and my efforts were unsuccessful. Well, at least I tried. I left him a voicemail, and proceeded to sing my heart out at karaoke. "No Scrubs" by TLC proved to be a big hit with the crowd at the bar.

Sunday, 10/26:
I met up with my Brunch Crew. Well not the whole crew because 2 members of the Brunch crew had other obligations. I have Sunday Brunch at a restaurant/bar/lounge with a group of friends. We laugh, talk, catch up on each other's lives, gossip and laugh some more over unlimited mimosas. Oh and the food is good too. This is a ritual we started about a year ago as a way to connect with each other and just let it all hang out. We've gotten cool with the staff there. We stay as long as we want. We eat delicious foods that aren't on the menu. I always look forward to Brunch with my girls.
I walk in and my girls are already there. (Of course I was a few minutes late...hahahaha). Not even 5 minutes after I arrive, in walks manchild. They say the Village of Harlem is small, so I guess it was inevitable that I would run into him. While he waited for a table, he looked over at our table, and I looked through him as if he didn't exist. Later, he made an attempt to speak to my friends and I. I pretty sure he felt the Artic chill (and I'm not referring to the sudden change in temperature outside. I am sooo not ready for winter). I don't even understand why he thought he would get anything else. Did he really think my friends would greet him with big hugs and smiles as if they actually miss him?? Did he really think I wanted to hold a friendly conversation with him as if we are old childhood buddies??? Normally, I am kind and cordial to an ex. However, because of the depth of his dirt and the lies that are still being revealed to me, I really don't see the need to fake the funk at this point. I have nothing kind or cordial to say. Brunch continued as usual with the laughter, the gossip, the life updates and more laughter. Besides the minor speed bump, brunch with friends was a great distraction.

That's my weekend recap. Hopefully, this week will play out like an actual week and not feel like one long ass weekend. Weekends are filled with nothing but distractions.

Sunday morning. 7 am. The alarm on my cell phone is ringing LOUDLY in my ear right under my pillow. Miraculously, I hit the snooze key on my cell phone with 1/2 an eye open (yes that's talent). Lord Jesus, I don't want to get up. Ahhhh, sleep is so good and I am so in love with my Sealy Posturepedic in size Queen with the 400 thread count cocoa sheets. As soon as I drift back to sleep and feel that total weightlessness that comes in those first moments of sleep, the damn CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP of my alarm is at it again. Damnit. Wait. Is that a pain in my back?? I can't possibly be expected to get up if my back is hurting. I lay there and try to rationalize my excuse to stay in bed. However, reality steps in and reminds me why I need to get up this early on a Sunday morning in the first place. Breast Cancer.

Earlier in the week my girlfriend DeeDee sent me an email, asking if I would join her and her family to walk the Breast Cancer Walk. I was having an absolutely shitty week (hence my last blog entry) and really didn't pay any attention to her request. When I spoke to DeeDee on Saturday, I was still in the midst of my navy blue funk but decided on the spot that I was going to do it. Her mother is celebrating her 30th year as a Survivor of Breast Cancer. I thought how easily that could have been my mother battling Breast Cancer today or 30 years ago. The least I could do was walk 5 miles. Yes FIVE MILES. How bad could it be?? So Sunday morning, I got myself up extra early, threw on the only sweatsuit I own and a cute gym t-shirt, pulled out my damn near new with no dirt on the bottom gym sneakers, and made the trek to Queens, and made it to DeeDee's house at precisely 9:15, the exact time time she told me to be there (aren't you proud of me?! LOL).

As we walked to the starting point at Queens Borough Hall, I was engulfed in a sea of pink. Everyone's mood matched the sunny weather. There were so many people gathered. While we were waiting to begin the walk, I people watched. Some people were walking in memory of someone, others walked as a means for their organization to raise money for and awareness about Breast Cancer, and others. like me, were walking in support of someone who had beaten the disease. All Breast Cancer Survivors were given pink t-shirts with the word SURVIVOR emblazoned across the back. They were also given Miss America style pink sashes with SURVIVOR written on them as well. I half expected Survivor by Destiny's Child to come blaring through the speakers. I noticed a woman by the Survivor registration table picking up a t-shirt and sash. Ignorantly, I assumed she was picking it up for her mother, aunt. somebody. Until I saw her put them on. She had to be in her late 20s, maybe early 30s. I watched her for a while, adjusting her daughter's pink hat in the stroller, talking to her friends, absently playing with her sash. I thought to myself Damn that could easily be me. Here I was complaining, and I couldn't imagine walking a mile (or five) in her shoes. I felt ashamed for proclaiming I had such a shitty week when compared to what she obviously had gone through.

During those FIVE MILES in the unseasonably warm weather, I continued my people watching. I laughed at the teenagers who started dancing in front of the music store. And yes I danced with them. I admired the older women walking together in front of me (and then put a pep in my step because granny and her crew should not surpass me) Our group's conversation covered everything from religion (it was Sunday)to politics to college days to the food we were going to eat later to celebrity men who could "get it". But every now and then I would see the young woman I saw back at the starting point pushing her stroller or my friend's mom walking with her best friend and it brought it all in to perspective.

When I reached the finished line, I felt accomplished like I had just ran the New York City Marathon, of course without the blisters and chafing my friends experienced last year when they ran the marathon (SIDEBAR: I don't care if Chris Webber was waiting for me at the finish line butt ass naked with an engagement ring, pigs would have to fly through the ice in hell before I would EVER run a damn marathon! LOL). I should feel accomplished, I've walked other charity walks before but this was the first one I completed (sorry to those who sponsored me before. ) I felt invigorated, energized, rejuvenated and days later, sore as hell. But it's all good. Sunday reminded me to take life all in stride. I realize how precious and how ugly life can really be, but somehow we survive. And we learn from it. And we continue on. What other option do we really have?

I went to put my sneakers back in my gym bag today. I couldn't help but smile at how filthy they are and the story behind it. I see life not perfectly but differently through the dirt on my sneakers.

I got the blues.
The why are you asking me dumb shit blues.
The why don't people listen when I say LEAVE ME ALONE blues.
The I don't give a fuck blues.
The you're speaking to my voicemail because I don't feel like speaking to you blues.
The why do you insist on stalking me blues.
The how insensitive can he be blues.
The I hate my job but I can't walk away (again) blues.
The I need a change of scenery blues.
The I thought you were my friend but now I see otherwise blues.
The all I need is a bottle of wine and a body massage blues.
The when does tomorrow begin because I'm through with today blues.
The all of my clothes are falling off of me and its a pain in the ass to buy new shit blues.
The I need silence and my remote control blues.
The I'm tired of writing this chapter blues.
The my main character is starting to irritate the shit out of me blues.
The everyone is irritating me blues.
The life is a Sade song blues.
The this ain't what I thought life would be blues.
The when will I snap out of this shit cause this is depressing blues.

I hope I snap out of this shit QUICK because blue is so not my mother fucking color.

"Bye. Have a great day!"
Kiss.
"You too. Don't forget to turn the air off."
Smack on booty.
"OUCH! I won't. Bye."
"Bye."
Door closes.
And I'm all alone. In Hustle's apartment.

The very first time I stayed at his apartment, months ago, Hustle left me there while he went to work. That first time was a disaster. I woke up. Heard him in the shower, and I thought to myself, "ohh I'll get up when I hear him turn the water off." Next thing I knew I rolled over, and heard nothing. Figuring he must be out the shower, I stumbled across the hall into the bathroom. After taking care of my morning tinkle, I walked toward the living room, fully expecting to see him there. Nope. Besides me, the apartment is empty. "Maybe he went to the store." I get back into his ginormous, comfy king size bed, and flip through the channels. 10 minutes. 20 minutes. 40 minutes. Enough time to watch a movie on HBO passes and still no Hustle. I call him. He answers the phone with "Damn you sleep late." Where are you?" I inquire. "I'm at work." "Well what time are you coming home?" I ask thinking, he owns the damn business he can come and go as he pleases, right??!! "Probably around 6." 6??? It's 11:00 in the freaking morning!!! Of course, I freak out. He tells me : Relax. Make yourself at home, run a bath, there's food in the fridge. movies on the table. Whatever you want. I'll be back before you know it" I paced the floor for a minute, pissed that I was stuck since I had no clue where the train station was and I wasn't going to "ask the doorman" to point me in the direction of the train as Hustle initially suggested. Then I thought about his offer. Relax. And I did just that. Instead of a bath, I took a long hot shower. So long that I looked like a light skinned version of a California Raisin and all I saw were swirls of light brown looking back at me in the fogged bathroom mirror. I raided his kitchen, made myself an adequate lunch, turned to HBO on Demand, watched a couple of movies I'd been meaning to see, took a nap, and relaxed. Ever since that first day, if he has to leave the house before me, its cool. I now know where the train station is located (like 2 blocks away), and I've become quite familiar with that particular train line.

What amazes me, and amazes many of my friends is the fact that he's okay with leaving me in his apartment. They can't believe I have full access to anything and everything: food, TV, his computer. They are even more amazed when I tell them, swear to them, that I don't snoop. I've never been that kind of person to look through some one's stuff. I've done it twice in my life. Both in college, and both with disastrous outcomes. I found exactly what I hoping I wasn't going to find. Ever since then I've never snooped. Primarily because I don't want anyone looking through my stuff. I once dated a guy who joked about reading my journal that I left on my coffee table. When I realized he wasn't kidding, I kicked his ass out of my apartment, and never went out with him again. Yes, I'm serious.

As my friends know, he's not the first guy who is comfortable with leaving me in his apartment. Whether it's for a few minutes or a few days, guys just seem to trust me in their humble abodes. Hustle and I have joked about it, and he says that he's not worried because of "all the cameras". I know he's joking because he's not that tech savvy, and he would have already clowned me about the day I was dancing and singing along with Prince on my IPOD in my bloomers. But I really am curious to know: why me??? Is there a look I possess, or something I've said in conversation that deems me trustworthy enough to leave by myself??? Do I not look strong enough to get the plasma screen TV off the wall and out of the apartment??? Is my purse too small to pocket the laptop???

What blows my mind even more is that we aren't "together" as in I wouldn't define him as my boyfriend. I don't have one of those. And I'm not currently in the market for one either. I'd written a while back on giving up on the whole love thing. Now, I'm not so sure but I see that for right now, love has no place in my life. I know the people I care about, and I know those that I love. But in terms of romantical love (flavor flav inspired use of the word romantic...hahahahhaa), right now, its not important to me. It doesn't seem to fit in my life, at least for now. When friends inquire about our status I say "we enjoy each other's company". We are both damaged goods who share time together without the pressures and demands of a "relationship". We respect each other tremendously, and like exactly what we have, regardless of what our friends may say. We are cool with the non-status status we have in each other's lives. But being a non status status person, I can't help but wonder why the hell would he be comfortable leaving my non status ass in his place? On a regular basis??

I'm not going to lie. I've been curious. But not curious to violate the trust bestowed upon me. He has been so open with me, why would I destroy that?? A girl I know asked me, "You don't look at stuff on his computer??" "HELLLL Noo" was my response. For what??? That's his personal stuff, none of my business. I'm just grateful he's okay with me using his laptop to write, to blog, to check my emails, and IM chat with friends in his presence and in his absence.

This phenomenon will never cease to amaze me. I've asked myself "Would I be comfortable leaving him in my apartment if I lived alone???" I don't know. Instinctively, instantly, emphatically, I initially answer "YESSS. I would have no problem!" But as I think about it, I'm not so sure. You know what I'm most terrified of him discovering? No not old photographs and letters. No, not the black velvet bag in the top drawer of my nightstand. If I were to leave Hustle in my apartment and he snooped, I would be devastated if he read the manuscript for my book. And I guess I treat his stuff as if it were the pages of my unpublished book. Sacred. And yes I always remember to turn the air off.

I was all prepared to write about the VH1 Hip Honors Award rerun that I watched last night. But this morning, I got a phone call that I just had to share. The phone rings and my talking Caller ID identifies the caller. Of course it distorts the name so I run to look at the Caller Id. If it says "out of area", "unavailable" or the number begins with an area code that isn't familiar to me, I curse myself for running to the damn phone in the first place, then return to my morning regimen. This morning it was a 212 area code but I didn't recognize the name. I decided to answer in case it was a friend/family member calling from someone else's phone because of an emergency (I know I always think the worst...hahahahaha). I answer the phone and an older gentleman identifies himself as being part of some acronym organization I had never heard of. Now I could have hung up right there, but I didn't. Don't know why I didn't because I usually cut them off with a firm "No thank you. Goodbye". Since the gentleman didn't get this from me this morning, he continued with his spiel. He went on to tell me that his organization was working for the eradication of the "N-word" from our vocabulary. Now I think that's a tall feat so I was kinda intrigued by what he had to say. For about a minute he tells me the mission of his organization. I reply with an "okaaaaaaaayyy??????" like I'm not sure what you want from me but I'm sure its coming. He then hits me with "We're selling these tote bags to raise awareness of our cause." Tote bags??? To eradicate the N-word??? That's the best you can come up with??? Nigga please. hahahhahahhahahahah. I politely said "No thank you. Goodbye.", hung up the phone. You didn't really think I said "Nigga please" to the gentleman on the phone?????!

Seriously, I applaud the effort of the cause no matter how futile I think it will be. You can eradicate a disease but a word that is well documented, written in books, poems, songs, etc., ??? A word that is so embedded in daily vernacular, some use it more frequently than "the"??? How is that possible? And somehow a cotton tote bag is going to help further the mission??? Give me a break! I should have asked the gentleman on the phone EXACTLY what was written on the tote bag. I can't imagine what could possibly be written on a freaking tote bag that would stop the world in its tracks from using the "N-word"? Can you imagine a group walking down the street laughing joking "nigga" this and "nigga"that, see a fine ass woman such as myself (yeah I'm feeling myself today...hahahaha) carrying this tote bag, and while checking me out, they happen upon the message on my bag. An epiphany hits and they INSTANTLY stop using the word and pledge to remove it from their vocabulary. We don't live in a 30 minute sitcom where life's problems are solved in 22 minutes. I have no answer to reduce the use of this word. I think its a personal decision to want to stop using it. But it will continue to exist. And its going to take more than a tote bag to rid it from our vocabulary. That's for damn sure.

I just have one question about the Hip Hop Honors Awards. Is Phife from A Tribe Called Quest sick??? I didn't recognize his emaciated frame or his hoarse, breathy voice. Tribe is one of my favorites and it just made me sad to see him in that condition. Damn we getting old. No scratch that, y'all are getting old. I am well preserved!!! hahahahahahaa

This is a version of my original entry from Friday - the one I lost. For some reason, I just couldn't let the topic go, so on Friday, while I was sitting under the hair dryer at my salon, I composed this on my trusty Treo.
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Whenever I stay with Hustle, he wakes me up very early in the morning, usually before 6am. We lie in his ginormous king size bed discussing life, current events (CNN is our topic moderator), past relationships, etc. until one of us absolutely has to get up to get ready for work. For those that know me, KNOW I am not a morning person at all with my grunts replies for yes or no questions, my frowning smooshed up face, and my constant need to throw the covers over my eyes. Unfortunately, none of that flies with him. Somehow, he pulls me into some deep, meaningful, and entertaining dialogue that I cannot resist despite my usual morning grumpiness. This morning was no different. The conversation was a continuation of a conversation we had on our way to dinner the night before - failed relationships. He has a theory that both parties in a relationship shoulder the blame and are culpable in the failure of the relationship. He says no matter who did what, both people can look back at the relationship and see where they failed and what they could have done differently. His theory comes from his own failed long term relationship and he cites examples from it to prove his theory. Of course I disagree. In terms of cheating/dishonest relationships, I believe that there's a right person (me) and a wrong person (them). I asked him did he think I was culpable in the failure of my 2 most recent relationships. "No.....well, yeah". Damn. He asks me did I think it was a coincidence that both exes cheated on with/left me for women that are very similar in looks/style/personality. I never gave it much thought beyond both women and I fell into their typical profile of women, you know their "type" per se. He further probed by saying "could it be they sought these women out because there was something these women were bringing to the table that you were weren't? almost like a better version of you" Damn, can I eat my Wheaties before I tackle something so heavy this early in the damn morning?? I never thought about the why they cheated, why they lied and treated me as poorly as they did. The manchild chronicles are well documented. Still don't know why he did what he did but is it really important now??? The ex before him?My friends call him Verizon because one night he blew up my phone all night after we were over and he saw me out with the next man. Verizon cheated on me for months with a woman that was so much like me I almost thought we were related. So according to Hustle, was I also to blame for their wandering eyes (and every other part of them that wandered)? Hustle says no. According to him, I have to look at my role in the relationship before they even betrayed my trust in them. He clarified by saying that the responsibility of the success or failure of the relationship didn't solely fall on me. He says their actions and the consequences thereof are the burdens of my exes, but Hustle forced me to think about how I contributed to these failed relationships. I've never examined them that deeply. It was "ohhh he lied/cheated ! Whoa is me!" That's it. I never looked at the whys. I figured I would never get a straight truthful honest answer out of them anyway so why get hung up in the whys. But while I will never know their whys, I can examine mine. My first attempt at answering this is my pride. I pride myself on being resourceful and self-sufficient. I hate asking a man for anything whether its taking me to some fancy restaurant or taking me to COSTCO. If he does, that's cool. If not, that's cool too. Either way, I'm fine. And money??? Forget it. I never borrow money from a man or accept offers to pay bills, pay for my beauty regimen, etc. I would rather be penniless and do my own hair and nails. I know for a fact that when the relationships have met their end, one of the first things I say is "I NEVER ASKED YOU FOR SHIT!!!!!! And this is how you treat me??" Could that be my problem? Am I too self sufficient that the men in my life may feel like I don't "need" them? Someone once told me "women want to feel wanted; men need to feel needed". I never gave much thought to that but maybe I should. But how??? I hate feeling vulnerable. There. I said it. Vulnerability is a weapon of mass destruction that is hunted and when found, it's harbored to only be used against you to cripple you and render you paralyzed and incapacitated. To express that I need anything from anyone is admitting failure in myself to handle it. Could my unwillingness to need drive someone away??

As I think about Hustle's theory, I think about what I could have done differently. This may sound harsh or bitter, but, honestly, I had no business being with either one of them, especially in terms of a relationship. Verizon and I had stupid arguments almost from the beginning. It seems like it was too much effort to be together. I never saw that we would be together 5 years down the road. Shit I never saw us making a year together. The relationship was a constant roller coaster. I think I got with him because I was tired of being alone. Classic excuse but very true. I took the drama because it was something to have. The year before we met, I wasn't seeing anyone. When Verizon's deceit came to light, I was hurt but I wasn't surprised. He should have been a guy that I occasionally went out with, no more no less. And manchild??? That's been well documented here but I will say that in the beginning, he told me many, many stories about his past misgivings in relationships. What made me think that I was different???He told me in his own words how he would be in a relationship, and because I've known him since we were kids, I thought he would never treat me the same. I heard the stories but I didn't listen to what he was really saying.

So what lessons have I learned? Where did I go wrong??? So far, I've learned: Save the roller coaster rides for the amusement park. Let go sometimes at the right time with the right one. Stop looking for the good in everyone because maybe what you are meant to see is right in front of you. Its better to listen than to simply hear. I take full responsibility for the demise of these relationships in particular because I was culpable in their inception. Had they not begun, they would have never ended. I blame myself for giving myself to the wrong ones. Do I know all the answers? Of course not, but have I learned something about myself? Yes, a little bit. But that little bit gives me a lot to think about. Thanks Hustle, for the Lesson of the Day. Can I have my Wheaties now???

I am so pissed right now, I could smack somebody. I just finished a blog entry. It was great. It was about my night with Hustle and our conversation this morning, past relationships and our responsibilty in their failures. It was deep. So deep I shocked myself at how honest I was being. No sugarcoating. No bullshit. A true examination of me and my flaws. I was editing it, just typed a few words to clarify a sentence. I hit something on Hustle's laptop and its gone!!! Just as I tried to retrieve it, this lovely blogpage does its autosave and it saves a blankk fucking page. It's not in my draft section. It is gone. I want to cry right now. Where the hell did it go??? Oh man I want to yell and scream and have a temper tantrum right here on the carpeted living room floor, arms and legs flailing and everything. Where's the humanity??? I don't even have time to type it again. Just as I was sorting out my feelings and gaining the clarity I so often come here for, my words disappear. Man, this hurts. I don't have shit else to say.

HAPPY FUCKING FRIDAY!!!!

My morning started out pretty good. I woke up on time. Ironed my clothes while listening to Prince on my Itunes. Danced around the house as I got myself together and it was time to leave. Before leaving the house, I checked myself out in the full mirror hanging on my bedroom door. Tan pencil skirt. Cream kimono style wrap shirt with brown, gold, baby blue, green, and white embroidery. Gold stilettos. I turn and check the booty profile. I think I'm looking pretty cute today. I leave my building, greet my security guard and the old man who reads his newspaper in the lobby every morning, and slip on my oh so lovely celebritous Marc Jacobs sunglasses. The sun is shining bright and I am in a sunny mood. It's just that kind of day. I have a date later on tonight with Hustle, and I'm looking forward to it (hence the extra effort in the cute factor of my work clothes..ummkay?!)

I descend into the subway station across the street from my apartment. I need to get a metrocard but I hear the distant rumble of my steel chariot. I use my backup card to swipe my way through the turnstile. As I pass the bench I see a neighbor and give her the grin greeting – you know the one where you don't say a word but you smile and nod in the person's direction to acknowledge the person's presence? I walk a few more steps and stand in my spot. Yes, my spot. All commuters have a spot. And if you've ridden the iron horse as much as I have in my lifetime, in certain train stations, you can stand in the exact spot where the doors will open and you will be the first on the train and hopefully get the all important seat on the train(and since my stop is the first stop on that train line I never worry about not getting a seat).

I'm standing in my spot, the rumbling is getting louder, and I see the headlights of the train as it turns the corner to enter the station. As the train approaches, I take one step closer to the edge, positioning myself to get my seat (yeah I have a particular seat on the train too..hahahahaa). I hear a "WHAT THE FUCK?" in a deep baritone voice and a half ass " 'cuse me." Before I could turn to see what happened, I feel a nudge. No I take that back. I feel a whole body shove and I stumbled forward. I feel someone grab my arm and help to reverse the momentum of me falling either in to the path of the train or being slammed against the train as it passed by. In the midst of all this, I yell "WHAT THE HELLLL?" and I too get a half ass " 'cuse me" from a fat bitch with a nasty rat's nest weave sitting on top of her head as she passes me by. The train comes to a stop, the doors open, and the other passengers who were boarding ask if I'm alright. I say yes but I'm a little shaken up. I mean that bitch almost killed me. Her first victim, a husky chocolate brother, sits across from me. He tells me she bumped him hard like she was checking him on the field. I had no clue what that meant but I assume that was some sport reference, and shake my head incredulously, shocked at the kind of crazy I encountered this morning. He then goes on to say "She bumped me but she pushed you on purpose" and the other passengers nod in agreement. What the helllll??? All I did was walk into the damn train station. So now I'm pissed but I try to play it off like "whatever. I'm not going to let her ruin my day." I shrug and dismiss her as crazy. The guy starts making jokes about the validity of her femininity and the whole car is chuckling. I dig in my bag and pull out my IPOD. I need some Maxwell, Jill Scott, and Joe to calm my nerves (sidebar: I really need to step up my jazz game on my beloved IPOD. Any suggestions??). As we pull into the next station, guess who walks through the connecting doors from the other car?? That's right. Crazy Bitch. Everyone either groans or rolls their eyes. She stomps through the car like she is auditioning for America's Next Top Psychotic Model and this is her crazy ass runway. Chocolate gives her the serious ice grill – like touch me again and I will body slam you. I just shrug my shoulders and continue to place my headphones in my ears. I secretly pray that she is going to continue on to the next car. NO SUCH LUCK. Crazy Bitch sits diagonally across from me and proceeds to ice grill me. The entire car is watching. My neighbor who took the seat next to me leans in and whispers "do you know this chick?" "Helllll no" with a laugh is my response. On the inside, all kinds of crazy shit is running through my mind like "oh shit somebody named manchild hired a hit woman to off me" like this is the Sopranos or "was she trying to steal my heavy ass purse?" or "Ashton is that you? Am I being PUNK'D?". However, on the outside, I am cooler than the air conditioning blowing in my office. I change the playlist on my IPOD to the "STRUT" playlist and immediately start bopping my head and dancing in my seat. I cross my leg and let my foot wiggle in time to the beat. Life is a party and her crazy episodes have no bearing on me. I glance over, she is still ice grilling me and Chocolate sitting across from me. He leans over and says "I think we have an admirer." I tell him "That's all you playa" as I laugh and put my headphone back in my ear.

The train continues on its ride through the city, and eventually I ignore Crazy Bitch. I'm not insane though. I do glance her way a few times, just to keep an eye on her and any sudden crazy movements. The next stop is my stop – finally. And I can leave Crazy Bitch to ice grill Chocolate. Sorry dude, but she is like your height, your weight; you can handle her. Me on the other hand, I know she would kick my ass. I'd give a good fight if I had to but, in the end, it would be my ass kicked, not hers. As the train passes through the station before the next stop, Crazy Bitch jumps up. I'm thinking "awwwww shit! Crazy Bitch is going to finish her mission in Times freaking Square." She walks over to the map at the other end of car and hovers over the people sitting beneath it. The white people who were not privy to her earlier outbursts eye her nervously. The rest of us give a collective "awww shit. here we go again!" look. After studying the map for a minute she barrels over to where Chocolate and I are sitting and stands right next to my seat. Aww hell to da naw! I did not sign up for this brand of crazy, at least not today. The train pulls into the station and I turn off my IPOD because if Crazy Bitch is going to kick my ass I at least need to hear her fat ass coming at me. I stand up to exit the train, and I can feel the dragon heat from Crazy Bitch ironing the wrinkles out of my shirt. I am terrified. Yes, I can admit my own fear. As the train doors open and I'm about to exit and I take one last look at Crazy, a good look in case I have to pick her out of a line up later. Chocolate asks me if I wanted him to get off the train with me. I tell him no and say loudly "I'M NOT AFRAID OF CRAZY!!!" Okay, so that's a boldface lie but like a dog, I can't let her smell my fear. He laughs, I chuckle, cut my eyes at crazy and quickly step off the train. As I walk to the stairs to catch my connecting train, I turn around and see Crazy Bitch is still on the train. As the doors to the train close, I wanted to stand there and say everything I wanted to say to her, every curse, every threat I could think of but then I would look like the Crazy Bitch. And unlike at my train station, they would lock up my crazy ass at Times Square.
As I walk to my next train, I think about many things. First off, of course, I think that I could be dead right now. At this very moment, I could no longer exist. I wouldn't be here right now to tell the story. This train of thought is really depressing and most importantly screwing up my day, so I try to rationalize why she did what she did. I don't know her from a hole in the wall. Can't even say I recognize her from the neighborhood. Maybe she really is crazy, and maybe didn't take her medication today. This train of thought, too is depressing. I get off the next train at my stop, and decide to stop in Starbucks. No, a venti sugar-free cinnamon dolce latte is not in my budget today but damn it, I deserve a treat, and since its too early in the morning for a shot of tequila, coffee will have to be my drug of choice. I walk into Starbucks and I hear a "HEYYYYYY stranger!" I turn around and look at the Asian woman behind me, and she is just as clueless as I was. I actually look at the guy speaking and realize that I vaguely remember from the neighborhood when I was growing up. We chat for a minute, even though I'm still dazed from my earlier incident and most importantly, I don't remember his name. He asks me what I was ordering (did I mention he works there??), I place my order and he waves away my money. Wow! "Thank you" with the most sincerest grin I could muster for No Name. I walk out sipping my ever so delicious, calorie conscious, FREE beverage and think that maybe today is going to be a good day after all. Wait until I tell Hustle this story tonight. Maybe by then I'll be able to laugh about it.