Does that make me crazy?!!!!!

I found it quite comically ironical* that during my almost nightly conversation with Baskin Robbins, he brings up the whole idea of “crazy”. I know I don’t mention him often. Only the truly faithful (i.e. Rashad and Keba) may actually remember the last time I mentioned him here. But that’s not the point. I was tempted to ask him “did you read my blog today?” but he swore he wouldn’t months ago and I try not to bring it up to entice him to break his vow. Furthermore, I checked my stats this morning; no hits from his neck of the woods so last night’s convo was just a co-winky-dink.

The conversation meandered into the perception of crazy and crazy moments. We’ve already shared with each other our not so shining moments in the relationship department so “crazy” discussions were nothing new. But do these shot in the dark moments in our life define who we are? Of course not, it takes a whole lot to equal the sum of my whole. But damn, do I wish I could subtract some things out of the equation. I get that I am who I am because of every experience I’ve been through but can’t the fabric of my history be tie-dyed so that some of those moments are bleached from existence? No? Damn.

Fortunately for both us, our brief departures from self were not filmed. We can continue in a daily lives unscathed (for the most part). Unlike this reality show chick, she can’t escape her crazy image no more than she can escape that tattoo on her face. If she ever tried to distance her self from either, there will always be a tell tale sign.

We are also very fortunate, that even after we revealed our unpretty sides, we both picked up the phone to continue our conversation. Is that crazy or what?! ;)

(note: when I started writing this I thought about actually revealing my "moment" - hence the title but I still like walking around and denying it ever happened so I scrapped it. LOL)

*I initially thought ironical wasn't a word and wanted you to know that I know its not a word. However, "WORD" didn't scribble it so it must be a word right?!

Crazy? Not Sexy. Not Cool.

Last night I watched the reunion special for one of my "reality" show guilty pleasures, For the Love of Ray J. Sure I could expound on the why an educated woman with a hectic schedule like myself would watch a dating reality show, but what’s the point? I watch it and most importantly, I admit that I watch it. So that take that all you closet watchers. (Hahahahahaaaa) Anyway, I was compelled to watch it last night because of a certain contestant. For those who didn’t watch it (and those who claim they don’t watch it), there was a certain young lady vying for Ray J’s attention who was downright crazy. At first she came off as aloof, different. I mean how many people do you know have a tiger tattooed on the side of their face? But towards the end of her reign on the show she was straight up losing it.

While watching the show, I wondered why he kept her around so long, especially after she admitted that she physically attacked boyfriends in the past and had thoughts of killing or harming other chicks in the house (and she smashed the homies; hahahahaha). Even in her dismissal, she was quite confident that her love would win out in the end and that they would always be connected. Straight jacket anyone?!

While I don’t think Ray J speaks for all men across the globe, he revealed something that just may be true. When asked why he kept her around, he said something about how it was cool when she was just a lil crazy and her craziness was just a kinda sexy UNTIL crazy side became dangerous and a somewhat too much to handle. But all in all, he admitted he was attracted to her crazy side.

This phenomenon is not new. How many times have you shook your head at your friend's boo like "this mofo is crazy and he/she (your friend) loves his/her crazy draws". I once had a friend of a friend come up to me and declare "your man is crazy". Yeah, just like that. No hello, no chitchat. Straight up, no chaser. I didn't know her so I just chalked it up to her being the crazy one in the room. Later on I realized one crazy person can always identify another in a crowd and I should have listened to her crazy ass.

But what is it about "crazy" that is attractive to so many people? Could it be that there is never a dull moment? Is there some excitement in the element of danger that crazy always brings? Is irrational behavior sexy?

That TLC song “Crazy. Sexy. Cool.” comes to mind. I didn’t realize it was a priority list for desirable personality traits in a mate. Had I known that, it may not have been the song playing on my voicemail in college (HA!). Having had to deal with my own brand of crazy, I want noooooo parts of crazy. It’s not fun, it’s draining, and damn sure not sexy. Give me a nice, normal, psychological test passing, kind of guy. All others need not apply, especially if you can’t pass a psychological test. Just sayin’.

Hopefully, Ray J learns this lesson before Season 2. *

*come on, you KNOW there will be a Season 2; Lust only lasts until the day before the check for Season 2 clears.

Reunion

OOOh are my eyes deceiving me??? Does the weather report on New York 1 depict today, saturday, sunday, and well into next week with not only a big ol' sun (with no clouds) but also the number 8 as the first digit in the temperature forecast?? Really??? No more 38, 48, 28 degree highs??? Really??? Ohhhhh yes, oh yes, oh yes!! Gorgeous weather is my lovah and as I make plans to be out in this gorgeous weather, my calendar with 4 simple words, scratches the needle across the record and puts an end to my warm weather hi-jinx. High School Reunion Weekend. Ugh!

Its not like I didn't know the reunion was this weekend. I'm on my school's planning committee. To those who know me that is shocking in and of itself. I went to a small elite, all girls school on the upper east side of Manhattan where Central Park was the landscape for Gym and Fitness Classes, and Museum Mile was my Art History textbook. My feelings about high school are mixed. On one hand, how many people can say that their Spanish teacher was from Spain or that a famous Hollywood actor came and spoke to her class right before he won an Oscar for his role in a movie with Denzel Washington about the social dynamics of such a powerful film? On the other hand, those were some of the most contentious years of my life. I'm pretty sure we all had our teen angst but existing in such a small environment under a social microscope was exhausting. When asked for the African American point of view I always erred on the side of militant. What the hell did I know? I was 14. I barely had my own point of view. Then having to always explain, where I went to high school in the neighborhood because no one knew my uniform (for the non- New Yorkers who read this blog: there are a billion catholic schools here, each with their own distinctive uniform. if you saw a girl in a navy blue skirt you knew she went to one school, if you saw a bunch of girls in burgundy skirt, you knew they went to another. Since my school was so small, no one from my neighborhood knew the uniform. Continue). I couldn't wait for college. I lived for college from 10th grade - like actually planning when I could finally graduate. It wasn't until years later that I fully appreciated the lessons (both good and not so good) I learned for my 4 year stint in a world I otherwise would have had no exposure to.

So I go back this weekend. Once again to smile and giggle and wear the mask I first created in those marbled walled classrooms. Then I will remove the mask, and bask in the glory of the sun.

Prom

Is it Wednesday already??? Sheesh. This week is passing me by faster than that Pharcyde tune. It’s been cereal for dinner and passed out with paperwork on my sofa. No torture from the trainer. No socializing social butterfly. Just a busy worker bee (always better than a killer bee I suppose. I don’t know; I’m allergic to both anyway..LOL).

Judging from the spike in page hits, you all must be wondering “WHAT HAPPPENED?” on Saturday. Simply put, I had a great time. So great I laugh at how nervous I was. So great I almost wish I could do it again. So great I couldn’t have written a better story if I tried. The original plan was for me to get ready at his place but you know what they say about plans and making God laugh, right? So despite all the damn traffic in the city on Saturday, the plan was changed and he picked me up from my apartment (really, there has to be a way that there is no Yankee game and Mets game scheduled on the same day around the same time. FIX IT!! ). The weather was so beautiful even at that time of night. I wore a strapless double layered sheer dress. I guess I would call the color sand. My shoes were multi-shades of coral open toed jeweled creations. Very Sex and the City Carrie Bradshaw type (without the price tag…hahahaa). Hair was done with a nice swoop of reddish brown hair hanging over my right eye (yeah I changed my hair color again..need to finish that blog too). Makeup? Flawless, if I must say so myself since I was the artist behind my painted face. LOL Accessories? Bold and on point.

Hustle called to let me know he was downstairs. I gathered my clutch and other belongings and sailed out of my apartment. I was giddy and nervous like this was actually prom. I arrived downstairs and in full STRUT mode, made my way over to his car. I caught a hint of a smile before he looked away. I slid into my seat and noticed how impeccably dressed he was. In all his black James Bond-ness, he wore a nice fitting pinstripe suit with a black open collar shirt. Let the choir say, “Sexy!” As I’ve said before, I’m glad I don’t see him like this often. I’d be in TROUBBBBBBBBLLLLEE.

We arrived to the function late (damn traffic) but thankfully in time for dinner (I think I heard both of our stomachs growling in the car). I saw a few stunned looks when I walked in with a date but I had warned Hustle that I NAYVER bring anyone around so there might be a few double-takes. Hustle was a phenomenal date. He chatted with friend’s parents and even played with friend’s children. I was quite impressed. I wasn’t even afraid to leave him at the table a few times. Now that doesn’t mean he didn’t have black Larry David moments. He damn sure did but I was the only one privy to his shenanigans. Thank the LORD.

Once the event was over, and we snapped all the pictures we could pose for, and drank all the cocktails my bladder could hold, it was time to say goodnight. But we weren’t ready to call it a night. We decided to go out dancing because we didn’t dance at all at the event. Well I danced with my other date. Hustle had competition. My best friend’s 6 year old son was my dancing partner at the event and I kiddie 2-stepped it for quite a few songs. And then of course there were all the slides. You know? The Electric Slide, the Cha-Cha Slide. And now added to the mix, the Cupid Shuffle. And yes I know all of them. hahahahahaaaa

Hustle and I hit up 2 spots that night and made up for not dancing at the event. Hustle and I met at a party and danced that first night away, so it is only appropriate for us to do the damn thing whenever good music is playing. I was afraid to sweat out my hair so I tried to keep it PG. Operative word: try. (LOL) We may have been slightly overdressed for a simple night at the club but that didn’t stop us. But fatigue did. After only an hour (barely) at the second spot, we were ready to pass out. Yawning in our drinks and asking each other “you ready?” The coach was turning into a pumpkin and this Cinderella was ready to take off her Sex and the City shoes. It was time for 007 to return back to just plain ol’ Hustle. Back to normal. Back to reality. And now…..back to work. (sigh)

The End.

The Pressure

Well so far only one of my faithful readers has honored my previous blog request. Smoochies to you (I won’t shout you out by name because you didn’t say if it was okay in email). The request was for more Pinky stories and more dating stories. While I see Pinky damn near everyday, he has been relatively tame lately. Either one of you guys told him that I write about him or he’s gearing up for Spring to really hit. If that’s the case, I will have plenty to write about. Oh wait, one day he came to the office in a yellow ensemble: yellow pants, yellow striped shirt, yellow sweater, yellow puffy vest, and loafers. Oh and orange socks. No, I’m serious. I may have to change his blog name to Rainbow Brite. Or Elton John circa 1970something. And yes people, he is straight. Hhahahahaa

Soooo tomorrow evening I have an event to go to, a fancy soiree at a manor. Anywho, my best friends and I will all be there. I joked with Zilla (new name Tootie…hahaha) the other day that this feels like prom. I bought a dress (of course already had the shoes), got my hair did (another blog for another day), and have a mani pedi appointment tomorrow afternoon. Since none of the members of the Fab Four (my besties and I) went to the same high schools and they are indeed older than I (only a year but so what..haahaaa), this is indeed like a prom for us. The Guest of Honor for this event asked me if I was going to be a plus one. And that’s when it hit me.

Oh shit. I’m going to be the only single person at the table.

Out of our circle of 4, I am the only one with no attachments – no kids, no boo. And as you already know, it doesn’t really bother me. But the thought of our “prom pictures” with me dateless was not something I wanted preserved in the archives. So I asked my go to, Hustle. (Are you surprised??? Hhahahaha) And surprise surprise, he was actually excited to go. So much so, he challenged me with a “don’t let me look better than you.” The NERVE. LOL I swear the man thinks he is the black James Bond. But I must admit, he looks damn good in a suit. Thankfully, I’ve only seen him wear a suit once. LOL

We worked out the logistics and everything is set. This week he sends me a text.

What type of crowd is it?

I explain that it’s an older crowd but that we will be at the younger table with friends and hubbies/boyfriends. Then he hits me with:

You’re not afraid of me embarrassing uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu? (he's so dramatic...hahahaha)

Textually, I replied “Nope. You have home training. LOL” But then I got to thinking about him meeting the rest of the Fab Four and their respective significant others. He’s met 2 of the 3 but each time was in a dark hot ass club, so there was no conversation going on beyond ‘Hi. Nice to meet you”. But this time, this will be 5 hours (maybe slightly less) of mingling and conversation. I know he can hold his own but I always worry about people’s perception of people in my circle. Like what if they don’t like something he says or does or vice versa. Or will he, like my Guy Guru, have a Black Larry David moment, and I'm left shaking my head like Cheryl and asking myself why? WHY?????? Oh the pressure. I. CAINT. TAKE. THE. PRESSURE.

Then there’s the realization that this is the first time I’ve brought anyone around people I consider to be family (outside of the Fab 4). I hope they realize it’s just a date and that its by no means “more”. He hasn’t even met my mom. (And yes you can date someone this long without them meeting the family. It’s actually quite stressless -yeah I made that up but you get the point. )

I know I’m probably panicking over nothing and that all will go well. But you know me; I have to worry just a lil bit. It’s like my good luck charm. When I don’t worry a lil bit, that’s when you should worry.

You Decide!

Miss me? Believe it or not, I’m walking on air/I never thought I feel so freeeeeeeeeee…okay that’s not what I was going to say but that theme song is stuck in my head. Go figure. A dollar to the first person who can name what show that’s from (ummm and that dollar is of the Monopoly variety…it’s a recession people!). LOL
But what I was going to say is believe it or not, I miss you too (well most of you…some of you? eh not so much. Hahahaa)

As many of you can probably tell, I’ve been on somewhat of a writing hiatus lately. It’s not like I haven’t written anything but once I pour these words and string them into thoughts on my computer screen, I skip the most relevant step – click publish. Some of the things I’ve written lately have been so dark, brooding, morose, and that’s not the mood I’ve been in lately. Or maybe I’ve finally began to believe in the mask I wear daily. Whatever the case may be, ultimately those writings aren’t what I want to publish. Not yesterday. Not today. But never say never. Maybe one day. Or maybe not.

I am curious though. What do you, yeah you the reader, want more of from me, yeah me, the writer of this here blog??? I know I have a propensity to write extremely random symphonies of life but I know that some of you have favorite topics. So I’m opening this up to you. Give me a topic and I’ll write about it. It could be something I’ve written about before that you want more of or something you would like to hear...errr read my thoughts on. Whatever you’d like for me and my fingers to explore on my keyboard. You can post the topic here in the comments or hit me up on email. You decide.

Let the games begin! lol

No explanation.....

*Can't help but wonder where I'd be if I turned left instead of right on this journey. This is where one of those TV movies showing just how different my life would be really comes in handy.

*I think my questionable sexual neighbor meant it as a compliment when he told me I dress like a gay man.

*I've written 5 blogs in the past couple of days. Maybe I'll hit publish one day.

* I like Hustle with a beard, very Idris-esque. On second thought, too dangerous. I'm glad he shaved.

*Reading other people's brilliant thoughts makes me want to burn my notebook (what movie is THAT from.....)

*I had a dream that I got married. And it was everything I never thought I wanted. I woke up smiling.

*As I continue to work out, my behind looks video vixen disproportionate to my body. And I'm almost tempted to put the weight back on to even everything out. Somebody needs to invent a concoction Booty Be Gone, because this is re-damn-diculous.

*I wish I saw more of my long distance friends more.

*Some people are just too damn nosey and they need to find another hobby other than studying me.

* As much as people compliment me on it, I really don't like my hair. But thoughts of relaxing it give way to pangs of guilt.

*Fan emails make me blush.

*I wonder if I have the fortitude and focus to finish this book.

*I'm convinced my office Starbucks is a club. They are always jamming to the latest. When was the last time you walked into Starbucks and heard 1, 2 Step by Ciara and Blame It on the A-A-A-A-A-Alcohol by Jamie Foxx back to back?? Yeah, I buy coffee at Club 'Bucks.

*I have so much more to say but I think I will stop. Until next time.

Welcome to my world....AGAIN

My new occasionally favorite pastime is checking my email on my new and improved mine for now mobile device as I wait for the train (well in the stations where I can actually get reception) . I was on my way to meet my girl and her son for a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnng public transpo voyage to the land of Biggie and many many many of my beautiful gems ( I have way too many friends in the BK...I wouldn't trade them for anything, but that train ride is re-damn-diculous).

[Insert Hustle's Government] has added you as a friend. We need to confirm that you know [Hustle's first name] in order for you to be friends on Facebook.

*EYES BULGE* Are my eyes and my contacts deceiving me??? Has Hustle joined the very social network he has clowned me for joining annnnnnnd is now requesting me as a "friend"? I can't tap the screen fast enough for my mobile web browser to upload. This has to be a mistake. Or maybe I know some one with the same name (Sidebar: this actually happened on FB. A dude I know from my itty bitty days and a dude I know from my HU days have the same name, and it never dawned on me until I received the 2 friend requests within a week of each other. I know too many people. LMAO).

As I heard the train rumbles getting louder, I curse that FB is not loading fast enough. Do I wait on the platform just to quench my curiousity or do I board my iron chariot alllllllllllllll the Brooklyn with no mobile reception and suffer through the agony?? Honestly, if BK Transplant and her adorable needs his own reality show son weren't waiting for me at the very next stop I would have stood right there just to see if what my email said was true. So I begrudgingly got on the train and left my crystal clear reception right there on the platform. Sadly waving goodbye as my bars began to disappear. As soon as BK transplant got on the train and her son was settled in with his Nuggets, this had to be discussed. No one I date is currently on my FB page. Weird?? I don't know. My past experience with social networking sites has taught me a few things when it comes to dating and I just try to keep the 2 worlds separate to avoid the foolywag brouhaha. My page is uber-private with good reason. I have nothing to hide. No pics of me and a "boo"; no salacious wall posts; no misconstrued innuendos in my status updates. Nada. So what's the big deal??? I can't really explain it (thought I could by the time I got to this point of this here blog but oh well. LOL). It reminds me of the time I discovered he read my blog. - I felt exposed, naked, vulnerable. Then it was a one way mirror into my world. And it most likely will be the same on FB. He won't update his status like 3 times a day like I do. He won't post pictures of drunk people in clubs like I do. He won't take those stupid ass quizzes or write one of those chain notes. Well I don't do those either. But you get the point.

As BK Transplant, her son and I emerged from the belly of the iron beast, I couldn't wait to check my phone. As soon as I saw one tiny lone stick bar in the right hand corner I tapped my web browser. Sure enough, that's Hustle. I bit my lip as I contemplated my choices. I confirmed our "friendship" and sent him a wall post (took me 10 minutes on the bus to compose it. And yes after 2 trains, I then had to get on a bus. Oh the things I do for my beautiful gems. LOL). I logged off my web browser and sent him a text message.

Facebook??? Really.

He replied simply "Yep."

I know that affirmative was laced with all kinds of "you scared?". He didn't have to ask because he probably already knew the answer.