Santa Baby...

I'm bored as hell at work today. I'm flying solo in the office and the only reason I'm here is because the lovely auditors decided to send requests over the holidays. I should still be fa-la-la-la'ing around the Christmas tree and all that other good holiday ish. But nope I'm here trying to get some kind of focus on this here blog. I don't know what to write about.

Hmmmm, I could write about what I received for Christmas but that would seem like bragging. Who am I kidding??? Of course I want to tell you guys what I got for Christmas. If you think I'm bragging, do you see that little red X in the right hand corner?? Yeah that one. Click on it. hahahahhaaa
For Christmas I received:
* I'm a Toys R Us Kid. Okay, I have been dying for a Wii and was even a lil jelly when my grandmother got one for her birthday (yes you read that correctly...hahaha). I was completely and utterly shocked on Christmas morning when I pulled back the wrapping paper and saw that white box with 3 letters W-I-I. And proceeded to do the Happy Dance in my undies around the living room while shouting " I GOT A WII. I GOT A WII. I GOT A WII". Yes, I have big kid tendencies. I even fell asleep, hugging the box just like the little boy in A Christmas Story (one of my fave Christmas movies by the way).

* Fantasy Island. Showtime Championship Boxing for the Nintendo Wii. I have a confession. I love boxing. LOVE IT. I even used to take a boxing class UNTIL my instructor wanted me to participate in a sparring exhibition. Oh Helllllllssss nooooo, sir. I can't have anyone hitting me upside my head. It would be a "man down situation". No thanks, I'll pass. I'll just watch from the sidelines. Or beat the hell out of someone on my Wii.

*No more withdrawal. I damn near passed out when I pulled the wrapping off and saw the The Complete Box Set of the Wire. You know how much I love the Wire. I still have moments of Wire withdrawal because I miss that show so much. Sheeeeeeeeiiiiiiit, I even wrote about my love a couple of times. I need to have a Sex and the City/The Wire Box Sets party. I am truly about to put a serious dent in my new sofa. hahahahahaha

* I've got my love to keep me warm. Well not really, so I need a warm winter coat. But I hate down coats. I think they make everyone look like either the Pillsbury dough boy or the Michelin man. However, I found one in my favorite winter color (cream) with a cinched waist and a brown leather belt. Tres chic. Tres me. Thanks, Santa.

*Old Faithful. Money and gift cards. I swear you can never go wrong with these 2. I will be planning my shopping excursions to Macy's and Victoria's Secret accordingly while the money has been deposited in my vacay fund.

*Crap. Okay so Christmas with my family always yields at least one crappy gift so of course this year was no different. Luckily this year, I was given only one. A Tweety Bird pajama set. In a size 22. Yes you read that correctly. Umm hello, I stopped being a tweety bird fan sometime in college. I mean I still think Tweety is cute and all but rocking a lime green shirt with Tweety's face plastered across the front with matching navy blue and green pants with hundreds of little tweety birds all over them is not my idea of a good time. Especially not in a size 22. I could tell this was a conspiracy gift as in "oh I don't know what to get for so and so." "oh you should get them _______ because they will love it." and then they both watch your reaction to the idea of the gift/the actual gift. There were 2 parties present who were overly eager for me to open this gift so I knew who to place the blame. I mean, really??? The largest size I've ever worn in my life was a 14. I'm currently a size 10. Why do you think buying something for me 6 sizes too big is appropriate??? Just because it has a character that I used to love back when I also used to love the Smurfs and the Electric Company. Sheeeeeeiiiit, you should have stuck with Old Faithful, even if it was only $15 (the cost of this damn gift since you left the price tag on it!!!!). I can do a lot with 15 bucks that ain't got shit to do with Tweety Bird.

*Time. This Christmas, I got to spend some long overdue extended quality-esque time with Baskin Robbins. It was nice. Really nice. And he even gave me a Christmas present - a beautiful blinged out watch. Hands down, better than any gift I've received in a lonnnnnnnnng time from a dude. He put thought into and didn't just walk into a store and put his credit card on the counter. Of course the days leading up to Christmas I was frantic because I haven't purchased a gift for a dude in a minute and was clueless as to what I should give him. I put my creative thinking cap on (hence no blog....okay I'm lying...hahaha), consulted with a couple of friends and came up with the right gift that was equal parts cute, thoughtful and memorable. He loved it. However, I wish Santa would have given me about 10 extra hours each day. I missed seeing my Twin (my BFF who moved South a few years ago; Twin, is this your first blog shout-out???). I haven't seen her in forever and I underestimated the power of time and how it can run out on you. Along with extra time, maybe next year Santa should grant me time management too. LOL I also missed seeing another good girlfriend of mine and her plus 2. Funny, she and Twin live in the same area. Maybe I should go for a visit and kill 2 birds with one stone (such a morbid catchphrase but you get the idea). Definitely something to think about.
I also spent some quality time with my family. I actually enjoyed myself. I still only ate what my mother cooked because these fools just can't be trusted with food tasting good but overall a pleasant time was had by all. My fave moments were with my lil godsons/cousins. Especially the baby. At a year old, I can't get enough of him. He's a snuggler. He likes to crawl up into that space right under my arm and chill out. For like an hour. What's not to love???!!!! Don't tell anyone, but I even changed a diaper. Well it was only a "yellow" diaper and not a "brown" diaper but still. If you tell, I will deny it. hahahahaa

Overall, Santa was good to me. I can't even lie. I got (almost) everything I didn't even know I wanted. And I've been smiling ever since. :) Sheeeeeeeeiiiit, I think I did alllllll right.

*Of course the title of this blog is in remembrance of Eartha Kitt. She was a legend who lived by her rules, coming up at time when someone else wanted to write the rules for her. She will be missed. Oh and I kept saying, "Marrrrrcus, dahling. I don't have any panties on." all damn weekend. She seduced the hell out of Eddie Murphy in Boomerang. hahahahahahahahaa





**damn. did anyone else noticed that first James Brown and then Eartha Kitt died on Christmas????

And while we're on the subject.......

Speaking of pet peeves, this one falls under the Holiday category.

Yesterday, I went to the Hallmark store near my job on the hunt for Christmas cards for my family. I come from a long line of "sure you bought me a Rolls Royce for Christmas/Birthday but where's my card?!" kinda people so if I show up without cards, I might as well go home (hmmmm, thought for next year...hahaha). I found a card for my Dad first. He's easy. His card must be funny and never mushy. Next up, my god-mother. Also an easy one. Primarily since they're aren't too many godmother cards so I pick the least juvenile looking one (when are they going to give up on the color the picture cards....hahaha). I look for a card for my grandmother. Tricky. All the damn cards are way too mushy for the relationship I have with my grandmother. She didn't bake me cookies as a child, she didn't tell me stories of my mom growing up. But Hallmark only had those cards, so I have to scour the racks of Duane Reade/CVS in the hopes of finding a "Merry Christmas, Grandma! Love Ya!" card. No fuss. No muss.

Next up, my mother. Okay, so my mother's card needs to be the right balance of mushy love and happy memories. My mother cries with every card I give her. Never fails. I remember as a kid, she would cry when opening those ugly ass cards I made in school. And yes, I can say they were ugly because I can't draw for shit. But I could color the hell out of a handout. But I digress. SO I peruse the section of cards for mothers and happen upon the Mahogany Line. For those unfamiliar with Hallmark, Mahogany is their line of African American cards with African American images that "represent" the African American experience in greeting card form. And also the source of my peeve.
Every damn card for mothers addressed mothers as "Mama". All of them said beautiful wonderful sentiments but they all said "Mama". For the record, I have NEVER addressed my mother as "Mama" unless I'm paraphrasing Jay-Z when someone comments on my bootay since I get it from my mama. I can't tie a sweater over this ass or hide it in pajamas. hahahahaha Who the hell says "mama" besides Jay-Z and Boyz II Men???? Not me, and I can't cosign on a greeting card that calls my mother something I do not.

Why is the Black experience in this country so monolithic?? Yes, I get its only a greeting card but just like other Americans I address my mother as "Mom", "Motherrrrr(used when she is working the nerves she gave me)," "Maaaaaa (for when she is not paying attention and she needs to do what I say....obviously I don't use this one too often..hahahaha) or the ever favorite "Pamela Anderson Lee"...well Mom's tig ole bitties are real (something I DIDN'T get from her..hahahaha) but I digress (again). Why can't the cards that look (somewhat) like me be reflective of me and my vernacular??? Am I making a big deal out of this??? Probably, since I found a card with the correct balance of mushy love and happy memories in the "general" section that had no images of white women holding their white children (that's a whole other conversation and I'm not trying to be too militant-political).

I realize I have nothing else to say about this post. I could go on but I'm trying to embrace the spirit of the holidays. And escape with my sanity and my money in hand. hahahahaha

Not sure if I'll post tomorrow but if I don't MERRY CHRISTMAS, friends, fans, stalkers and stans!!!!! Smoochies (none for you stalkers....hahahaha)

Gag me with a spoon.....

Lemme just vent on a pet peeve for a minute.

I just got a call from one of my vendors (who I don't like speaking to anyway).

"Hey Janelle. What's up?" is how he starts the conversation. Dude I am not your homegirl from prep school. This is business, not pleasure.

And then I hear it. The sound that makes my skin crawl. He's eating in my ear. Now if it were a crunchy chip or cookie, the sound doesn't bother me. But if it sounds soft or mushy, I want to gag. He sounded like he was smacking on mashed potatoes. The sound of his gums and saliva just smacking on whatever was enough for me to say "Would you like to call me back later?"

"Oh I didn't know you were busy, Janelle. I'll call you back later this afternoon to discuss blah blah blah. " (and yes he was still smacking when he said this. yeck!)

Seriously, I wasn't busy. I've completed most of my tasks for today. I have no scheduled meetings. No one is flying in this week. To put it lightly, I'm straight chillin' probably for the next 2 weeks. However, I don't care how much time I have on my hands, that sound invading my eardrum would make me spill all kinds of intelligence data, just to make it stop.

Hopefully by the time he calls me, he will have finished eating and I will have regained an appetite. yeck!

Part 2: Baring All...

Please read Part 1 here before you continue below.

To say I was floored would be an understatement. I remember sitting in the midst of all the holiday hoopla and with those two words (I'm engaged), the room around me suddenly became silent. I heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing. I was completely still as my brain processed the message my ears had sent. I sputtered out a "What?! Wowwwwwwww. Reallllly?!" before I regained my senses with a "Congratulations." We chatted for a while as he told me the story of "He" and "she". As "He" relayed the story of the journey to his proposal, all I kept thinking was "Thank goodness I didn't say a word about fleeting feelings. I would have made an ass of myself."

We still continued our wekly talks. He kept me abreast of the wedding plans and I kept him abreast on what was (and wasn't) going on in my life. "He" spoke of some of his fears and I told him not to worry because he would make a great husband. I asked him once if he was happy. Not on some "okay this is my moment to steal him away" shit. It was more for me. I needed to hear someone say they were happy and in love. My issues with relationships were leaning more to the "hellll no, never again. I can't trust my instincts on this shit no mo". When he said he was happy, I breathed a sigh of relief. I trust him completely, with my life, so I know if he's happy then this brand of happiness may be out there for me.

I was invited to the wedding but didn't attend. I refused to go without a date. Roomie wanted to go with me and while it would have been nice for both of us to see old friends, I couldn't do it. I thought it would be best if I went with a guy. Like I needed to show everyone I was okay. And while I had options in the men's department, I never asked them. I wasn't sure how I would feel, sitting there watching the ceremony unfold. I tend to wear my emotions painted on my face like a window display at a department store. It's okay to shed a tear or 2 at a wedding, but I kept picturing myself sitting there at the ceremony bawling (at then getting beat up by the bride's friends in the ladies' room for my emotional display...hahahahahahaha). Luckily for me, my sister got sick, so I was spared my dignity (and a beat down).

"He" called me before the Big Day. And while the details of that conversation are too sacred to share on this blog, I will say this. The title says it all.

Now I knew post-Big Day, our friendship would change. It had too. There was no way in the world I would be okay with my newbie hubby chatting up some chick on the phone weekly for hours on end. But damn, we went from feast to famine with 2 words - "I do". I've spoken to him once post nuptials. ONE TIME. And the conversation was so brief I didn't get to ask anything about the wedding, etc. In the time since we've reconnected, I've never gone this long without speaking to him. And I know how cliche this sounds, but I miss him like crazy. Please be clear, this is not about him being my illusive "One" as I pondered before. While I love and care for him deeply, he's not "the One". At least not for me. Don't believe me? Well for one, I can't imagine any type of physical contact with him beyond a hug. No kissing. No sexing. No holding hands. Nada. And for the record, he is a handsome dude. (Don't want ya'll thinking he looks like Shrek thus my reason for not wanting any physical contact....hahahahahahaha) Secondly, even if he were single I would be afraid I would fuck it up. Again. And last but not least, my woman's instinct tells me he's not it. He may be a close second, but not the "One".

I miss the comfort of our friendship. Talking to him was like crawling under your blankie on a cold winter night, extra whip cream in your hot chocolate, fresh out the oven soft chocolate chip cookies with the steam that escapes as you break it in half. I miss bouncing book ideas off of him (sidebar: I know I haven't mentioned the book lately. I put it down for a while with everything else that was going on in my life lately but I'm writing again. ). I miss picking his brain as the archetype of the male species. I miss hearing his nickname for me and the inside joke that seems to have grown since it was started when I was 18. I miss the way we used to laugh and try to outjoke each other. I miss dreaming out loud with him and encouraging each other to dream bigger, higher.

Something came across my Internets perusal the other day, and the minute I saw it, I thought "Oooooh, [He] should totally do this" and then I was reminded all over again that I no longer had that EZ Pass into his life anymore. I can't just pick up the phone and shoot the breeze (sidebar: whoever has ever tried to actually shoot breeze probably rode the short yellow bus to school. I'm just sayin'...hahahahaha). While I have his email address, I even feel sending him an email would be an invasion of epic porportions. I exist on the outskirts now, allllll the way out in the boonies sitting on distance memories, looking at faded pictures. I get that "He" had to make room for new memories and new inside jokes but it doesn't make living out here without the warmth of my blankie any easier.

Baring All

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned there were 2 guys that were on my mind but I only wrote about one. Now, I'm sitting here, thinking about something not quite entirely unrelated (I can connect the dots if I reeally wanted to but there are a whole lot of dots to connect if I tried...lol). And my thoughts sort of whispered to my brain "you're ready. so spill it". Thus leading me here.

Let me preface this spill by saying a few of you out there may know this person, or may think you know this person. As I type this I'm thinking of ways to protect his identity because this is one post I don't want to come back and bite me in the ass. I can't even give him a blog name because every one I think of might reveal who he is. I'll surprise myself if I have the courage to click "publish post" and not simply "save now". We'll see how this goes.

So to understand the full scope of this story, I gotta go back. Way back. Back into time. Circa 1994. Freshwoman year of college. "He" was an upperclassman and we instantly hit it off. As friends. My roomie tried to hint that "He" may be interested a whole lot more but I just played dumb. Looking back, I can admit I had a small feeling otherwise (the Midnight Love dedications kinda sealed the deal even though I protested with "there are a few Janelle's on campus; that ain't me getting the dedications"). But with my New York 'tude, I was used to dudes just coming out and saying "yo, shorty. what's up? can I holla atchu for a minute?". I wasn't accustomed to the genteel ways in which things were done where "He" is from. So I kept him in the friend role until "He" actually voiced his feelings years later. And I shut "He" D.O.W.N. - "I like the friend zone. I'll fuck this up if we pursue something more". Being the gentleman that he is, "He" respected my wishes and we remained friends. UNTIL I broke the rules of engagement and, according to my roomie, his heart. Without going into detail (to protect the identity of the innocent - him- and the stupid - me), just know that I was wrong (told you I would fuck this up). When "He" graduated later that year, we weren't speaking. At all.

Years go by and every so often, I would think of him. I still have the gifts he gave me back in college. Technically, they were for my roommate and I but somehow in the madness of packing, I got custody. He was so nice, so sweet, and I was an idiot. I would wonder how he's doing, what he's up to, blah, blah, blah. But it was always fleeting because I had no way of getting in touch with him and would probably chicken out if I did have a way.

Fast forward to late 2005-ish. Thanks to the internets and social networking, we were reunited (and it felt soooo goood; sorry I couldn't help it...hahahahahahaa). As friends. First it started with a friend request, then the exchanging of a couple of comments and messages. Then at one point, phone numbers were exchanged (I was stranded in his hometown airport for 8 hours). And then just like that I had my buddy back. We would talk for hours about everything and nothing. Never once did "He" mention my fuck-up. We were older, more mature. I was just ecstatic to have my buddy back. My roomie, the hopeless romantic (to some degree) would hit me with "You know [He] still loves you." And I would give the phone the side eye and tell her "There ain't no love here." Almost the exact same conversations we had back in our Home by the Sea days, except we were no longer cramped in a dorm room with no air conditioning (by the way, that should be illegal in the South. Landmark building my ass! hahahahaha). We were grown adults having 18 year conversations. Months went by and "He" and I still talked and talked and talked. Eventually I was in a "relationship" and nothing about our phone convos changed. I still spoke to him at least once a week for hours on end. See? Friends forever!!

Ease on down the road to 2007. I was in the throws of a breakup. "He" called me everyday to check on me. Every single day. "He" kept telling me I needed to get out of New York to escape the madness that my life had escalated to. "He" offered to send me a ticket. I refused. "He" offered to drive to NY and we could make a road trip back to his neck of the woods or wherever I wanted to go. Still refused. So he called. Everyday. To make sure I was okay. I laughed. I cried. I vented. All of it. And he still called. Everyday. A couple of months later, I began to feel a certain way. Like I wondered if "He" was the all illusive "One". I knew I was going through some shit but I couldn't help but wonder about "He" and me and possibly being a "we".

So I did what all girls do. I consulted one of my girls. I didn't consult roomie because I felt her judgement would be skewed - primarily because she was all intertwined in the intricacies of our history and I didn't want to hear "I told you so". Once I told my girl "I think I'm falling for "He", I felt relieved and sick to my stomach all at the same time. I left that convo thinking I was just trying to displace all of my lovey dovies out of the toxicity of breakup hell I was existing in and on him instead since it was a much better place than the former residence. Anywho. I kept my mouth shut to "He". Our phone calls went from daily to weekly to bi-weekly. He would ask me to come and visit still. Instead of flat out refusing, I would say "okay, maybe in _____" with ______ being a month further down the road. As 2007 drew to a close, I still had those wondering in the back of my mind. What if I did go to visit?? What if we hit it off?? So with the courage of the New Year ahead, I promised myself I would visit him in February, just to see what was what. Come hell or high water, I was going to visit. (Sidebar: where does this "hell or high water" come from??? Like are the options burning in hell or drowning in water??? That doesn't sound appealing either way. hahahahaa). I just waited for the right time to tell "He" about my travel plans.

"He" called me on Christmas Day to share some news. "He" was engaged.

(to be continued..........)

What I know for sure

Oprah has a column (I think) entitled "What I know for sure" in her magazine. Its about life and the bountiful lessons this journey provides. These are the lessons I've learned the hard way recently:

*Nothing in life should be expected except taxes and death. Everything else should be appreciated.

*History is not a good enough reason to go hard for anyone or anything.

*When shit starts off badly, that's usually how it ends.

*If it ain't sincere, it ain't right.

*Negative feelings seem to create road blocks and obstacles at every juncture.

*Once your heart's not in it, it's no longer fun.

*Appreciate the things your loved ones do for you like they ate ramen noodles for a month to make you happy.

*Sometimes that glimmer of hope will bite you in the ass and you're left telling yourself "I told you so."

*Snow is pretty until it's dirty. Then it's a pain in the ass. Both real and fake snow. And life too.

*People love the cake when you don't tell them you got it from Costco's.

I know this post seems reeediculously random. But these are the lessons I learned. Unfortunately the hard way. But at least I know them now. And I know for sure.

PS Thanks Eve for the talk! Smoochies ;)
PPS Some of the lessons were paraphrased from a g-chat with Eve. Give credit where credit is due. Another lesson learned. ;)

Pinky strikes again......

..without wearing a stitch of pink. Well at least not any I care to see. (please don't force that image in my brain. i just may throw up a little in my mouth. hahahaha).

I came in to the office today with a totally different blog all mapped out in my head. Until Pinky stood up to greet me. I was stunned to say the least. I couldn't even get through all the pleasantries ("how was your thanksgiving? blah blah blah) without asking:

"(Pinky), what is that on your pants?"

Chuckle. "They're reindeer. Don't you like them?"

"Ummm, that's an ummm interesting look." (trying to fight back the tears that the laughter I can't let go of is forcing behind my beautiful browns. )

"It's Christmas. I wait all year to wear these."

"We have 22 days until Christmas, (Pinky). "

"Yes, but it's the seeeason."

"I can't wait to see your holiday ummm flair."

"You have such good taste, Janelle."

Riiiiight!!! I just know how not to insult a very wealthy man this close to Christmas. LOL

Okay to paint a complete picture of this holiday tangnastiness. Pinky is wearing a very lovely kinda mossy green sweater with a tan button up shirt underneath. Nice right? Uh huh. Scan down and find a pair of chocolate brown corduroy pants with miniature reindeer stitched all over the pants. ALL OVER. Similar to these pants from J. Crew's critter collection:

I'm at a lost for words.........

All I want to know is WHY????????????