Did you see my Bulldawgs come back and win the 2006 Chick-Fil-A Bowl by beating Virginia Blech 31-24??? I sho did! LOL

It feels great to end the season 9-4. Go DAWGS! Go SEC





I'm not deep enough to celebrate Kwanzaa. I'll admit it. I appreciate the idea of it because I was definitely into the first day of Umoja because unity is beautiful. My people need more of it. I just don't know anyone that really gets into Kwanzaa. I don't even know people that cheerily say, "Happy Kwanzaa!" or anything related. I think I'll make it a point to do Kwanzaa next year in addition to Christmas.

BTW, Chrimmah was cool. I got the joy and satisfaction of being with my family all day. I know I mentioned it before, but it's amazing to see how cool my two youngest nieces, FutureIVY and Lil Genius are. I gotta start hanging with them before I become not cool enough to be seen with. We still gotta work on my nephew, Lil Bernard. He looks just like my big brother, Bernard, but he is quite the brat, and it's not just because he's a boy or younger. Just spoiled rotten. FutureIVY used to be that way, but she's evolving into not being so spoiled. Maybe because LilGenius is actually FutureIVY's first cousin, and LilGenius is being raised by her aunt since her mother passed not that long ago. So, FutureIVY has to share the girl spotlight, but Lil Bernard didn't have to until his new kid sister came along. *sigh* There's too much to type.

If you live in Atlanta, don't go to the IHOP at Greenbriar Mall! I've been there a few times, but I'll never go back again. It was some straight bullisht, and I sure did pull out a "White Chicks" trick: I submitted an e-mail to their corporate website, but I sho as hell am gonna submit a real 81/2 by 11 letter with exactly what I want to say to corporate and the location. (The e-mail reply form only allowed for 2000 characters max.) Here's what I said in the e-mail below, but I'll have to say more in my real deal letter:

My brother and I went in without a wait and were seated promptly in a corner area with 5 booths behind a large party. When we arrived, there were small tables available in the front of the restaraunt. The waitress promptly took our beverage order: lemonade and water with lemons. She brought drinks quickly, but my lemons were missing. I received lemons 10 minutes later after a second request.

After receiving our drinks, the service sped downhill. My brother and I noticed there were 3-4 servers working the party of about 20-25, but the servers were also forced to work their regular areas so they couldn't provide quality service to regular customers.

We placed our order 15 minutes after receiving my lemons, but we made several observations of poor service while waiting. There was a gentleman seated alone who arrived before us. He waited patiently for his food, and once it came, he left without touching it, and the waitress threw the food away. The couple in the booth across from us came about 5 minutes after us, and they were NEVER waited on. They left also.

In the meantime, we saw a woman arrive alone approximately 10 minutes after we arrived. She received her juice and water immediately, and her bacon and pancakes arrived within minutes of being seated while we still waited for our order of a Chicken Fajita Omelette and the low carb steak and eggs platter; my brother requested scrambled eggs with cheese.

Our order arrived about 20 minutes later. I received my omelette with no sour cream or pancakes. My brother's steak and eggs came without steak sauce. My omelette had extra cheese but tasted bland. My brother's eggs had NO CHEESE, and he couldn't cut into his delicious smelling steak without the steak sauce. Our waitress said she had to go back for our pancakes, and we waited over 5 minutes before we left our area.

That was the worst IHOP experience I've had in years. I like supporting local businesses, but I will never return to this unit.

So, as you see, I'm really not some common fool that'll cuss you and you mama out and leave. Negative on that! I'm gonna hit you where it hurts, and there's nothing like documentation of bullisht to hurt an establishment's reputation with the corporate office. I don't want anyone to get fired, but I will tell you that another restaurant manager in the area knows that the fine people of South Fulton County don't play with their money, and we will let you know via letter when we're unhappy. OK, not all of us, but you get the point.

Luckily, NOPI and I actually found a nice restaurant right up the street from where we live. It's called "Q's Southern Restaurant", and it's almost like a cafeteria with really good homemade food. It was a decent atmosphere and really nicely priced. Best of all, it was black owned and operated! I love supporting black businesses. I won't exclude other businesses, but I prefer spending my black dollars with black entrepreneurs or businesses that have enough faith in my mostly black area to bring their products, wares, and JOBS to my area.

BTW, for my fellow James Brown lovers, go to http://ejflavors.com/archives/2006/12/osw_rest_in_peace_james_brown.php for a very nice tribute to Soul Brother No. 1. I'm sure this blogger doesn't know that I exist, but I love his music blog.

First, RIP James Brown. I'm still mad that CNN focused on his criminal mishaps as if he never recorded a great deal of music that was sampled heavily in hip hop. The man was one of the greatest entertainers ever that influenced many entertainers that came after him. But I get his rap sheet when he dies? Bastids. I'll still be rocking my favorite James Brown jam ever: The Payback. I used that song to explain the second half of Homer's The Odyssey because you know the major theme was revenge against the suitors that took over Odysseus' home because they were plotting to take his place and his wealth. Yeah, I digressed, and I ain't sorry for it.

I'm glad Christmas is over. For real. I enjoyed seeing my ghetto family members that hit a peak when the tall nephew and short but highly confrontational uncle that can't be that far apart in years are hemming each other up and scuffling like we're at a club on MLK. I know we were litterally around the corner from MLK and not far from the Westlake MARTA station, but that did not require their level of foolishness. Hell, they make me hope that if I have a boy one day that he might come out like my brother and/or father because he'll be a silly child, but he'll have some sense and focus. Might be money hungry like my Daddy, too, which would be beneficial to me in the future, right? I'm just sayin'.....

NOPI and I went to breakfast at a local restaurant. We just didn't feel like cooking jack, and I definitely wanted some breakfast food. I woulda done better cooking my own deliciously perfect pancakes, but I took their preparation. NOPI's girlfriend went with us, and she fucked up the rest of our time together when she called my brother a faggot. Now, everyone knows NOPI ain't gay. Negative on that. It was just the non-playful tone she used while on the phone with another dude that NOPI ain't neva met! My brother shut down for a minute because I know he wanted to snap. He finally expressed his disappointment, and I even offer twice, "This is the point where you apologize for offending him." That dummy didn't apologize! It took two phone arguments before that pipe cleaner looking girl finally said, "I'm sorry." I think she has confirmed for me that I don't need to date another Pisces ever because I swear they all have communications problems that I don't have the patience for. You know my motto: Say what you mean and mean what you say damn it! What's so hard about that shit? (OK, so I added some. So what?)

I saw my parents, my sister-in-law, and my nieces and nephew. The girls are quite enjoyable because they are growing into lovely young ladies. Why does the younger one (FutureIVY) who is a tad shorter and on the thick side already have a good idea on how to work some stilettos??? She was rocking her Mom's shoes with no real effort. Ironically, the older one (Lil Genius) who is tall, slender, and quite leggy was walking with a little trouble, like she was scared of tipping over any moment. Imagine that. They were quite funny, and we were dying laughing together. Lil Genius is quite mature but still goofy while FutureIVY is a kid at heart but can flip flop in a minute to her grown woman. I gotta hang out with them more so I still have memories of them before hitting 18. They grow so fast!

But I spoke to a dude that I just met. He calls himself Lucky which is good because I sho as hell can't pronounce the name his Mama gave him. I really want to get her number, dial it, listen for her to pickup, introduce myself, and ask point black, "What were you thinking with that made up shit?" It's not like Quintivius (a boy I went to elementary with), but it's pretty fucked up. Anyway, Lucky and I talk for a while, but I gotta pee. So I suggest calling him back in a few minutes as I make my way to the car (I'm not telling him I gotta pee, but y'all can know that *wink*) because I was enjoying the convo. He seemed like a decent fella with a weird accent because he's from Denver. No, still not over a black dude being from Denver. Well, Lucky says, "I'll call you back a little later." I'm trying to play it cool, so I say, "Cool. Have a good time whatever you're doing." Well, no call back. That gives Lucky an 80% of being off my list already. We just met, so it's too early for not doing what you say you will. That means a lot to me, so his lack of a call kinda irked me.

My family tree is getting interesting. There are no new biological additions, but I'm enjoying the sisterhood in my family. Biologically, I have two half-sisters because Papa was a rolling stone in his early days. Five kids by three women. Yeah, Dad was busy. Anyway, Dad got me two half-sisters according to society's definitions. In my heart of hearts, I have a half-sister, my sister, and my big sister Leo.

To be real, my half-sister isn't worth mentioning. I haven't seen or heard from her since my older brother's funeral over 8 years ago. So, I treat her like she treats the rest of my immediate family: relatives out of biological obligation. That's exactly what it is. Sounds harsh, but the sad part is that my brother, NOPI, sees things quite differently. NOPI only has two sisters, and that's it.

Despite that outlook, I think I have a decently healthy relationship with my sister. Lil Woman is 11 years my senior, but she doesn't act like some fuddy duddy. She's real cool in her very early middle age, and she's definitely enjoying her life at this beautiful stage. She has a beautiful home that she shares with her ex-Marine husband and three children. I still can't believe the oldest is 21 and legal in every way. Lil Woman is the spitting image of our Father, but she doesn't act too much like him. She's no nonsense like Dad, but her mother had to influence the more compassionate, sensitive, and appreciative sides of her personality. It almost makes me wonder how she came into this world looking like him but being different from him in many ways.

Like she's supportive. I still find myself in awe of her support of my Slumber Parties business when I didn't get the chance to support her Party Lite home business. Maybe she was understanding that I didn't really have the money to invest in candles and accessories at the time. It was true. Uhh...kinda still is true. Anywho, guess what Lil Woman went and did for her Lil Sis? Lil Woman got a nice number of her friends to buy some products of mine, and she knows of one that wants to have her own party. Maybe you're thinking it's impossible for a father to support his daughter's efforts to sell "bedroom accessories". Well, Dad actually got me at least one sell. I'm still amazed at that. But Lil Woman got organized for me, completed order forms, did calculations, and drove to the Wachovia bank branch about 15 minutes away from her home to deposit the funds into my account. Are you kidding me? That is some serious support.

Even better, Lil Woman read my last entry and was concerned. She called me as soon as she read what was going on with me. She was really concerned about the "violation". I reassured her that I was fine and definitely was not raped, etc. Lil Woman is a real big sis, and although I thanked her on the phone, I thank you again, Lil Woman for caring enough to make sure I was okay. That's love right there.

The other big sister Leo is my good friend, Ree Ree. I met her working for the IRS about 4 years ago. I don't know what drew two female Leos to each other, but I think we've loved each other for quite some time. She's become quite close to me because she's one of the few people that takes the time to understand and *gasp* tolerate my uniqueness. I have to understand hers, too, and it's pretty cool that we do. She makes me howl with laughter, and Ree Ree laughs at me and with me. That's my dawg, and I'd be shocked if anything ever divided us as good friendss that hang out occassionally but sisterly chicks that talk and text message pretty regularly. I guess Ree Ree gives me some stability and genuine friendship in this city when it's so hard to find friends or a good man. Did I mention Ree Ree is a lesbian? I hate categorizing her like that, but I'm enjoying my growing cadre of gay friends. Remember, I'm still straight and dick-loving, but I'm also proud to be gay friendly.

Now, I could end this entry talking about how special sisters are. It would be adorable, but that's too mushy for the kid. Both of my big sisters know that, and they know I love them both. I know they love me, too, and that's the most important thing. Ok...I give up. Sisters are beautiful. So are those two women. And so am I. I would be beautiful as an only child, too, because I got a good mix of genes. But I digress....

285 is kinda light tonight, but I got a little time to kill before I plunge myself into that ignant Atlanta traffic. I'm still gonna work out tonight, but I usually get to the gym in 30 minutes, and I'm left waiting for the class to start. I guess I better hightail it outta here if I want a good spot for the class. If you don't know anything about Atlanta folks on the Southside, let me tell you one thing: So many of us are gonna be so fine in '07. That gym stays packed with some of the most beautiful (not to mention well-to-do) brothas and sistas in Atlanta. While some folks spend all of their time in Buckhead, stop sleeping on the beauty of Camp Creek and the entire College Park/East Point Area.

A quick insight into my life:

~ NutCase is out the door. He violated me and my trust in a way that I've never experienced before. It's so bad that I refuse to publish those facts unless absolutely necessary. Rage is an understatement of how I feel. This all went down Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. I called him on Wednesday afternoon and let him know that it's done. Now, his name has been changed in my phone like so many others because I rarely delete numbers. I only keep numbers to be sure that I recognize when "undesirables" and other riff raff try to reach out and touch me. Whatfriggineva.

~ I'm really permanent at the job, and I'm working like a slave today. I didn't get out of my desk much, and I'm not expecting to on a Friday either.

~ Sista trying to make money with Slumber Parties. I love to talk about our toys and great products, and I have a goal to make way more money at it in the very near future. If anyone wants a great recommendation for a bedroom accessory, let me highly recommend The Butterfly for the big spenda and the G-Wiz or Krystal Wabbit for more conservative but still adventurous budgets. Wow.....

Off to the gym!!! I'm gonna be so fine in Sept. '07! And I won't be on "The Biggest Loser". I love that show, but I really think I can do a lot on my own because I'm refocused. SupaChica, I'm gonna be so fine in your wedding, and I think I'll pull all of the single groomsmen. LOL

What a week! I'm starting off this week by doing laundry on a Sunday. I am conflicted since I'm working so hard at househould chores on the Sabbath, which should be kept holy, but I'm figuring that cleanliness is next to Godliness, so I'm doing the best I can to be Godly. I actually had to correct my "cousin" (he's the half-brother of a first cousin, and I am not related to his mother) on his Godliness as he happened to be walking by our apartment and stopped by for a quick visit.

"What y'all got in the frigerator?" Just like a common Negro. No greeting; just what can you do for me.

My lil bro, NOPI: "We got a tuna sandwich." Now, we don't have a whole lot because we need to do more shopping, but two big folks don't have just a tuna sandwich and that's it.

Psuedo-cousin: "Well, what y'all got to drank? Y'all supposed to be ballers and stuff."

NOPI looked at me, and I sho looked at him. We're definitely not poor, but we are far from Jim Jones. No balling here.

NOPI: "We don't drink like that." We both look at Psuedo like, "You know you got alchie [alcoholic] tendancies from both sides of yo' family, so quit trying to get yo drank on the Lord's day."

I look Psuedo up and down, and dude is dressed in black dress pants, a nice black shirt with very thin red and white spaced-out stripes, and very nice black square-toed shoes. Nice look...for Sunday. Moi: "Didn't you just come out of church, and now you're asking for a 'drank'?"

Psuedo looking slightly sheepish, then perking up: "Y'all supposed to be welcoming folks in the house. Asking, 'You want some vodka? Cognac? Tequila?' Classy stuff."

Moi: "You ass! Tequila ain't all that classy."

Psuedo: "Well y'all supposed to have a full bar."

Thinking to myself because I didn't have time to start isht: "If you worked somewhere else besides Mrs. Winners, you could have your own full bar, and you might be at home on Sunday to imbibe in spirits instead of walking to work with the visor in your hand." I just have to shake my head and go in the house so I can check out the electrician and maintenance man replacing the breaker box in our apartment. Yes, the electricity works.

What else happened this week:

~ Just in time for the low temps, I rocked the hell out of my black and cherry bob-style wig, and everyone LOVEDed it! My boss called it beautiful, and my sorors gushed on and on about my look at the meeting. I know I looked good. A little Aunt Gin Gin never hurt nobody.

~ NOPI was really cool about me borrowing his car on Monday. See, my headlights were completely gone on my car as of Saturday afternoon. That meant I was so freaked out that I didn't drive on Sat or Sun evening because I was terrified of getting pulled over about my lights. It's happened before, and it lead to a breakup with the unlicensed boyfriend who was driving my car. Anyway, NOPI - the owner of two cars - is generous and offers to let me drive the Altima while he takes my car to install new lights. From what we understood, the wiring for the after-factory headlights was all fucked up because some Mexicans did a bargain basement job. The rest of my car is getting that same bargain basement look thanks to my Dad's decision that they would be best. *sigh*

Long story short, I'm headed to work on Monday, late because I was quite ill on Monday AM. Seriously! I'm less than a mile from my exit when I hear, "Boom!Boom!Boom!Boom!BOOM!" Steam and burning smells are all over the place including the interior and I have to pull over. A nice itty bitty white lady named Meredith pulls over and offers to take me somewhere safe since I'm on the side of the highway. I was very impressed and touched but still leery. Actually, she was more than helpful because she allowed me to sit in her car until my brother came. I already know it wasn't the wisest decision, but I couldn't hear anything standing outside, and it was bitterly cold - by Atlanta standards. She introduced me to a picture of her cat, Bob, where he resting on a fake pile of money. "One of my five babies," she beamed proudly. Whatever floats your boat, but I will remember her kindness and will pay it forward in some way.

NOPI flies in, checks it out, and determines that the problem he already was aware of was not a motor part; it was the motor itself. He crunk it up, and the motor boomed again. "Dead," he says, "but I can't blame you. It ain't your fault. Don't feel bad."

I couldn't believe NOPI was being so cool about it. He had been thinking of getting rid of it anyway. Besides, it was a free car from my dad, and he just fixed it up.

Me, NOPI, and Alien Nation (NOPI's small eared friend) wind up going to the real NOPI shop in Forest Park. NOPI and our father had been thinking that the problem might be as simple as blown bulbs. This was really Dad's idea because NOPI and I were convinced that one shop owner and NOPI's friends that know a lot about lights were completely right about the wiring issue. Mothaeffin' WRONG! Those beautiful blue $19.60 lights came out with Alien Nation's help. I could see! And at night!!

See, that's why lil bros are cool. As much grief as we have given each other, we're there for one another. I never hated him as a kid; we've actually been quite chummy and close for all of our lives - except those awful puberty years. He gets on my nerves with his flipflopping Gemini self, but I really wouldn't trade him for anything.

~ I'm going permanent at my job! After 4 months of proving myself, the paperwork is complete, and I'll be fulltime at my cinchy job. That comes with an hourly raise, too. I'm pretty content for the moment.

~ NutCase has cooled himself off a bit. Maybe he's finally listening. I just want that one mo' time. I keep thinking about it because I know I want it, and I hope I won't be denied. Just. One. Mo'. TIME. before January.

~ Haven't heard from Beaver in weeks. Don't really care. Just wanted to share.

Go out in the world and Christmas shop! I hate shopping period, so do it for me.

6 Minutes

I'm giving myself 6 minutes to type up real, real quick the good stuff on this Monday in December. Let's see what these flying phalanges can do.

1. Happy Centennial Anniversary, Alpha Phi Alpha! The men of APhiA have been celebrating this milestone all year long. The day is actually here where seven men founded the cornerstone of collegiate black greekdom. (If you don't get the collegiate part, I'll school you later.) I'm so pleased that all of the Divine Nine are in existence to see this day. Will we all be in existence for all nine organization's Centennial Celebrations? Will one organization have to fold because they've been completely sued out of existence because of hazing? Only time will tell, but I pray not.

2. Little brothers are great! OK, he's been taller than me for about 7 or 8 years now, but NOPI was the bomb today. He didn't get pissed when his engine died on me even though I was driving, and he still took time to take me to the NOPI store to get some pretty blue lights for my car. AlienNation was there with his little eared self, but he earned his spot in the fam today for real. I'll blog on the whole sordid affair another day.

OK...it was 5, but I want 11:59 on my blog.

ETA: What the hell? The time on this site is 7 minutes off! Y'all get the point.

PS GO GATORS!!! GO SEC!!! I laugh at Michigan fans. Not because you're school is weak or anything. Just because this gives you a chance to get over your non-conference winning selves. BWAHAHAHA!

Is there really anything to debate???

Florida should play for the National Championship. Did you see the same game I saw against Arkansas? Florida played quite well in the SEC Championship game. I'll be real and admit I don't know what championship Michigan would have played for, but I see they didn't win their division. So why should a team that didn't win their division be able to play for the title of the Nation's Best College Team???

I still remember telling the General Manager of my local LA Fitness that we were gonna see an SEC team in the National Championship. Y'all already know my passionate POV about the SEC, and I'll stick by it. I just wish the rest of the nation would recognize and admit the truth.

If my "case" is a little too passionate for you, then here is a great article by Mark Schlabach of ESPN.com that gives great insight into the Florida/Michigan debate. Scroll down for the 10 cold, hard facts of the debate.

Florida's national title chances rely on voters

BTW, what happened in the Hawai'i vs. Oregon State game? Why were there just random pieces of paper all over their field as if there was a paper ball fight in a sixth grade classroom? I've never seen anything like that. Maybe it was part of a pre-game celebration, but I just don't see any SEC teams having anything like that happen because it would disturb the sanctity of the playing field. No, the playing field or stadium isn't worshipped, but it should be respected. What are they thinking in Hawai'i?

Umm...I'm thinking the Hawai'i team has some big ol' cuties on their team, especially the native Hawai'ian Warriors. Yummy! Oh yeah, they played some good ball in the little bit I saw. I'll check them out again next
year.

Agenda : Socializing

First, Thanksgiving was fantastic! Good food, good people (for the most part) and good times with the people I love. My brother and I rode down to Macon. Makes sense because we live together. To my surprise, we didn't leave until about 12:30 am. NOPI is good for leaving Macon around 6 or 7. Not that I can blame him since there's not much to Macon, GA. Bless that city.

I gotta brag that I've been an excellent girl on the weight loss agenda. Well, this week. I was at LA Fitness on Monday and Wednesday for Aqua Fit, and I was back on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. That's why I'm not at the gym on this Sunday because my body is beat the hell up.

Did I say Thursday as in Thanksgiving Day? Ya damn right I did!!! So I earned every calorie I happily consumed. But then I had a major plan. After eating what I wanted, I would walk around my auntie's neighborhood. Did that too!!! I did the damn thang because I have goals for September 2007.

So what did we have at my aunt's house? All kinds of goodies that were brought by every older adult. Whether my mom and her sisters realize it or not, they are doing the same thing that they complain that their aunts and uncles do in regards to the family reunion: they won't relinquish control or even take input - in their case, food - from the young folks. As long as the food is delicious, I don't mind so much. So, I delighted in moist turkey, good ham, dressing with giblet gravy, black eyed peas (good as hell!), collard greens, macaroni and cheese, green beans, crunchy potato salad (my mom boils the veggies but my aunts don't), pasta salad, my mama's famous Red Velvet Cake, my aunt's Upside German Chocolate Cake, and more. What made it all so wonderful is that I was a good girl and ate itty bitty portions of what I wanted. So I sampled everything. I sampled three items again, but I never ate myself silly.

End result of working out and eating smart at Thanksgiving. Well, I didn't gain weight. I didn't break even either. SistaGirl LOST three pounds over Thanksgiving. If that ain't motivation.... It's as if I have a crimson and gold "S" on my chest because that chick is making the health thing happen.

Friday was pretty cool. I fell for the hype of Black Friday once upon a time maybe 4 years ago. Never again. I'm not the typical woman because I loathe shopping. I make good decisions when I do it, but I can't see myself shopping...for fun. Eww. I hit the gym, came home, ate lightly, and fell asleep. Didn't even know I had passed out in front of the living room TV. My eyes opened and saw the time of 4:14. I called a homie of mine from my UGA days because she sent a text message, so I figured she was still in town and probably hosting another together. Miss International was indeed hosting a get together at Verve in Downtown Atlanta, and she wanted us to try to be there by 8 so we wouldn't have to pay later. So, I had to color my hair back to it's ruby glory and get my look together. I was beyond together and felt good about it.

Miss International invited several guests including her cousins and sisters. Miss International is actually Nigerian and she's beautiful. I met her family, and they were stunningly beautiful, too. I envied them with their exotic, chocolate, model-type looks, but I'm still a looker myself. So, I'm glad their gorgeous, but I'm not some pathetic homely chick. Miss International even invited a Liberian friend, a 5'9" bald dude that I assumed was mixed but learned was a light complected Indian (Punjabi), a funny white salsa-dancing chica with her Argentinan boyfriend, and some African-Americans. We had an excellent time there because we had great convo and good dancers in the group.

I got home around 2am and woke up for more exercise. I told y'all I have goals to meet! Later, I went to brunch with a friend and his two friends at American Roadhouse on North Highland in the Virginia Highlands. It's a cool place, and those three guys had me rolling! I've never met people with a meal and had to pull myself away from them over 3 hours later.

But I had to attend the UGA/Georgia Tech viewing party at a popular sports bar. I got there around 4:30 and had the best time with them, too. Now, I did encounter someone from my past, and I know the history of how we're connected between me and this person. Technically, we're not connected, but her other friend thinks that we should be. Now, you would assume I would sit with these women, and their friend thought that I would, too. Negative on that. I came with SupaChica, who I talk to at least once a week, and her fiancee. Why would I ditch them to sit with two women that I haven't talked to or seen (beyond bumping into one another) in about 3 years? I'm not fake like that with my friends, especially those that have been there for me. (If this doesn't make complete sense, then trust me when I say that there is a little more to the story that I'm electing to leave out.) So, when I saw their table speaking of me, I just smiled and ignored them. Bless their hearts.

I visited a cousin I hadn't seen in a while, too. I'm still the bougie cousin, but I'm just kinda wrapped up in my life. I promised that I would make time to see her again. I had to break out and go home because sista was exhausted from all of the socializing.

Before I knew it, I was in bed at 9:35, and I have no idea when I passed out. I obviously needed the sleep because my body isn't used to hanging out for hours on end.

And that brings me to today. I'm proud that I hung out because sometimes, I just don't. I'm trying to save The Mixologist from just staying home all the time. I want her to come out and kick it just because. There doesn't have to be an occasion or a guy involved. Just being thankful for life. I hope she'll be thankful next weekend.

Do you know Michael Richards?

Michael is such a common name, but Michael Richards is no where near common. Some of you already recognized the name from one of your favorite shows from the 90s. I only know him by the name Kramer, and I think plenty of you are in the same boat with me. Honestly, I may be the whitest black girl that some people know because I can happily and completely sing the theme song to "Friends", but I've never gotten the humor from "Seinfeld". I definitely won't get it after what Michael Richards did.

If you didn't know Michael Richards BKA Kramer before November 20, then you definitely learned who he was on November 20. If you still don't know what I'm talking about, follow this link:http://www.tmz.com/2006/11/20/kramers-racist-tirade-caught-on-tape/.

(I can't believe the brilliance and gall at making us watch a commercial before getting to the news we want.)

Later, I watched Michael Richards speak during Jerry Seinfeld's interview on "The Late Show With David Letterman". Interesting that his best defense is to talk on a late night show to apologize to millions of people. Well, I listened to him and was glad that did not pull a "Mel Gibson" and blame it on alcohol or drugs.

I realized that he's sincerely apologetic for saying what he said while the cameras were rolling. He's really sorry that it was broadcast on the world wide web for anyone to see. Kramer might have been sorry for saying such terrible, racist things, but Michael Richards was just getting warmed up. How could you not be racist to say that had it been fifty years ago, his black heckler's body would have been on a pitchfork? Michael Richards might not have a good sense of history, but he knew what he was thinking, and it all just rolled off his tongue just as naturally as water rolls off a turtle's shell.

Although he seemed shaken and upset, I really could not belive his apology because he referred to black people as "Afro-Americans". Twice. We haven't used that name in about 30 years. So, what Michael Richards wants the public to believe is he has respect for my race, my culture, and my heritage, but he doesn't have enough respect for us to learn that we've been African-American or at least Black for several years now? Not that his respect for us was something that Michael Richards mentioned. He definitely didn't make that classic claim that one of his best friend's was Black. He just claimed on national television that's he's not a racist, and he plans to confront what lead to this outpouring of rage.

Plainly put, Michael Richards is a racist. He's just stuck in Hollywood where it's politically incorrect and possibly a career killer to be racist. Well, he wants to move forward with his career, but hopefully he's on his way out of his career.

Would I have been satisfied if he had come out and plainly said, "Those niggers pissed me off talking during my show! I'm glad I said what I said! It's me! Now what?" Maybe. He would've been real. Instead, he's shedding crocodile tears. This should not be considered the beginning of an Oscar Run by the Academy of Arts and Sciences. Hopefully (and probably naively), his real fans will see him for who he really is, and they'll be real with themselves and just move on like Jerry Seinfeld.

Friday Night

Right now, the man situation is looking bleak. Like the cabins in the cartoons from the '40s and '50s where a little mouse and a wolf might be snowed in together, and the only thing within sight for a temporary solution to the hunger is one lonely can with one pathetic bean. Looking at it makes you mad, but you know that one bean is better than nothing...for that particular moment. So, you gobble down that one fragment of satisfaction and have a smile on your face. Then, as the minutes tick, you're still just as empty again. Nothing much has changed except you have the memory of savoring the taste and texture of the bean.

That's what the situation is like when it comes to men right now. I know Nutcase isn't the one for a variety of reasons. Mostly, he likes a big kid or at least an overgrown teenager, and he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Sometimes, he's like a butterknife. Despite recognizing all of this, he still seems more appealing than just waiting and waiting for the right one. Nutcase is Mr. Right Now, but only for the sex. He's decent-looking, nice, and tries hard, but I'm one picky heifer, and my friends confirmed that for me when I told them about our Friday night encounter on Saturday morning. I guess I should give some of the sordid details of the encounter before going into my persona.

I've been looking forward to Friday night all week because we were supposed to hang out on Wednesday night, but his baby mama (ooh...big strike for me) dropped his son off without much warning. That actually left me missing him on Thursday, and I told him. It was actually true. So, that made Friday night much sweeter. Well, it should have been, but it started off all wrong.

When Nutcase made it to the door, my outside light was on, and he parked next to my car. Unfortunately, my inside light was not on, and that was the signal that I was still getting ready. I didn't say, "Don't knock on the door," because I don't need my neighbors thinking some crazy situation is going on because someone is banging on my door like a drug bust is going down. I didn't think I needed to say that in this situation because I was being discreet. Instead, when I finally step out of the shower, I think I hear the Fulton County Marshall at the door because that is a lot of banging. Nutcase, who arrives a little earlier than he should have, is banging on my door like he's crazy. I was lucky that the neighbors weren't there. What did I do? Let him knock until he got tired and waited in his car, which he did. Maybe it was mean, but I was dripping wet, I don't walk on floors barefoot, I was still naked, and I did not want to expose myself to the elements to rush to open the door. Maybe I could have yelled out of the window, but it's the same concept of exposing myself to the elements as far as I'm concerned.

So, I open the door and let him in. I don't wait for him because I'm not done upstairs. So, he waits in the dark because I was in such a thoughtless hurry that I didn't turn anything on. Neither did he. Nutcase was literally in the dark with no lights or TV. I took it as him not being bright enough to flip a switch or even stand up to turn on the torchiere lamp that has always been behind the couch. Just in the dark listening to the music I'm listening to as I wash my face.

Those two things alone drove me out of my mind. This is the guy who I don't wanna be with who could potentially be the one I wind up with forever? You know the unwritten rule is that the person you don't want to be with turns out to be the one you marry. God only knows what happened to the person(s) you were so enamored with that you would be willing to pull off a bank robbery or trip up an old lady with a cane if that were to make them happy. So this could possibly be my guy if he stepped the game up? It made me so mad to think of it that I couldn't hold him, squeeze him, let him touch me, hug me, or kiss me.

We wound up watching a little TV, then we moved on to dominoes, one of my favorite games in the last three years. I'll tell anyone how good I am: "I'm going to kill you and your little feelings. You'll walk out of here sucking your thumb because I'm about to fuck you up with these bones." Yeah, I talk a lot of shit about the game I love to play because I'm pretty good at it. I can't talk that much shit with spades, but confident doesn't describe how I feel about my dominoes skills. Therefore, it thrilled me that Nutcase knows how to play dominoes. Thank you, Jesus!!! Someone to play bones with regularly! I love it!

Long story short, Nutcase claims that he has played but he forgot a lot because it's been so long. So long that he's forgotten how to score by 5's and how to count up his total in advance before he puts down the domino so his opponent can't call out the score and take the points. I wanted to smack him. You ain't gotta lie to be down, but Nutcase apparently thinks so. That made my stomach churn even more than ever.

All of this leads to what we both have been waiting for. But after being so irritated, can I really lay back and open myself up to him? Just thinking it over as I ascended my stairs towards my very clean bedroom made me feel like the mouse again. This is all that I have. This one bean will satisfy me for a while, but I may hate that I did this in the morning. But I may hate myself more for throwing away this opportunity because I don't know when it'll come again. I'll have to be like that mouse again and cut the bean into paper thin slices to stretch out the enjoyment of this rare chance. Damn it!

I succumb, but I'm reluctant as hell. Especially when Nutcase gets in my bed when I step away. This dude has pulled back my sheets and the fitted sheet. He's laying on my mattress pad! He really can't differentiate a fitted sheet? My mind went to a dark place.

"Get up!" I yell. "You're on my mattress pad! Are you sure you're okay?"

Nutcase rises and says, "Damn! My bad. I've never dealt with anyone as fussy as you."

My immediate response: "You'll never deal with anything as good as what you're about to get."

That quieted him. Then he made his move and the rest was chemistry. (Yeah, whole different subject from history.) It's almost like someone made our bodies for one another because we're off the chain together. We both make each other scream and make noises that we've never heard before. There's an intensity in our motions, touches, looks, sounds, and anything else in between that would make the most brilliant fireworks look like sad little sparks. I'm still surprised that no one knocked on my door to ask if everything was okay in my place. Yes, Friday night was good.

Saturday morning rolls around, and I gotta share with someone. My big (play) sister, Ree Ree, has got to hear this. So, I call to share, and she tells me I'm too picky. "You ought to appreciate the fact that he didn't turn on anything because that means he has home training. He doesn't just walk into your house and start touching everything all over the place. I don't see that as slow. That's bonus points."

"Ree, he didn't even ask me if he could turn on the light. If he had, I would've apologized for the mistake."

Ree Ree spits at me, "Lying little girl, you wouldn't have apologized for shit."

Moi: "You know me so well. So, I guess I was kinda being a terrible hostess."

Ree Ree: "Exactly ! You're being mean because you're justifying your dislike of him with any little thing you can find. If the shit ain't working, then cut it off and move on."

I hate psychological people like Ree Ree, but I think she's right. Next, I call my homie from my one year of teaching, the Mixologist. The first time we went out together was at a former coworker's birthday party, and she drank more than a little bit and mixed up all kinds of alcohol together. She should've been wasted after mixing different drinks like that, but she never appeared drunk one time. She even impressed the birthday boy (totally unintentional), and they exchanged numbers that night.

I ask, "So what would you have done if you entered someone's place and they had no lights and no TV on for you, and they left you downstairs?"

Mix quickly says, "I woulda got back in my car and left yo' ass by yo'self."

That throws me off. "Damn. I was that bad then?"

Mix: "Hell yeah. That was rude as hell. Disrespectful, too. But you don't really give that much of a damn about him right? No relationship out of it right?"

Moi: "Oh hell naw!"

Mix: "Then forget about it. You're gonna move on eventually anyway. You're like me. Can't really date blue collar guys, but you're picky as hell."

Moi: "I didn't say I can't date blue collar."

Mix: "You might as well keep them off your list the way you treat him."

I guess I should, but I can't because my dad and my brother are blue collar. So are both of my brothers-in-law, not to mention I intend to go blue collar when I become a truck driver once that rear-end collision is 3 years old and hopefully won't affect truck companies' opinions of me. So, it's not just about blue collar. It's about stimulation. Yes, Nutcase can definitely treat me to sexual ecstasy every time our bodies meet, but that's not enough. I've known that for years because I need good conversation, thoughts and ideas that can impress me and even get me to see the light on why their point of view makes sense. I need evidence of a thought process, and I don't see that with Nutcase. I need mental and emotional stimulation.

I don't want to be one of those fool girls that marries someone because "my biological clock is ticking." Let that motherfucka tick-tock until it doesn't tick anymore if that what it takes for me to avoid sharing and possibly creating an unhappy existence with another lonely person. I deserve better than that long-term, and although I don't think so highly of him, Nutcase deserves that same decent life, too. If I decide to have kids, my children don't need to witness a marriage of convenience or desperation that will probably never show how to love and respect someone you're supposed to are for.

I don't know how this will end, but it can't go through Christmas. It'll probably wrap up before December. If I really want something real, then I know I have to make some real effort. Stringing along a dude that's crazy about me is not the way to find the real satisfaction that I want. The satisfaction that's more like a pantry full of all of the staples you need to make it through each week and month but then there's appealing items that you never thought you'd care for but they become your favorite things. Either way, that pantry has everything you want (crushed pineapples and cookies) and need (canned milk, flour, and bread) and even things that you hate but they're good for you (green beans, lima beans, and turnip beans but I'll hurt you if try to bring some beets).

WTF?

OJ Simpson should be slapped around. How are you going to be the defendant in one of the most infamous murder trials in modern history and then turn around years later and detail how you would have killed the victims if you had done it? Maybe it's a publicity stunt to set us up to talk about how crazy that Negro is, but then the interview and upcoming book have no mention of such insanity. If it is a publicity stunt, then the crap worked because look who's writing about OJ???

Then again, what if it's a different ploy to prove that he's out of his raggedy skull, then he can collect another source of income. Could a small government check really help him pay off that $33 million lawsuit to the Goldman family? I guess it's worth a shot to find out.

I wonder how many people deleted OJ's number from their cell phones and they will not answer that crazy Negro's calls. They're all thinking, "I know he likes attention, but this is too much. Da fuck?" This is beyond attention. It's like a super duper state-of-the-art spotlight being glared at the man.

I hope the publisher gets what's coming to her for publishing this mess.

Marvelous Monday

I can't stand Mondays. Who hasn't gotten into a relaxation groove starting Friday night, continuing all day Saturday because you didn't have to report to work, and then extending into a lazy Sunday (thanks to NutCase)? You get familiar with your favorite PJs or your birthday suit because you're chilling. You reconnect with your favorite treat because you're straight chilling and kicking it at the crib, or someone else's place. Then, it all has to be broken by waking up to earn wages because you have to pay bills so you can keep on living. Such a sentimenst would normally warrant a big ol', "Damn!" Today, there's an exception because sometimes we have to take a minute or two to think of what's good or great in our lives. So, here's a short list from moi:

1. I woke up! God didn't have to choose me to rejoin the living this morning. He could have picked Sunday as my last day for whatever reason He felt like in His wisdom. I'm so glad that he woke me up because there's so much more I want to do before my life is complete.

2. I have a pretty good set of friends! I have people in my corner that are truly concerned about me. They may not show it every second, but it's obvious when it really counts. When I had the electrical scare, my favorite NUPE (the only one I talk to) was damn near ready to come over to my place and drag me out of there. He put a real fear and urgency in my heart about the situation, which was not of a huge concern because we've dealt with it before. The same thing came from my "big sis" and fellow wild Leo, Ree Ree. It's great that someone cares if my butt wakes up in the morning.

3. I got a ride! My Honda gets me around, even if it needs a tune up. She's 10 years old, and she's not putting me down.

4. Campbell's Select Healthy Request Mexican Style Chicken Tortilla Soup. That's my shiznit! The regular version is pretty cool, but I love eating delicious soup that's lower in sodium and fat. I'm a bad ass that adds Reduced Fat Cheese Nips, but it's reduced...so what?

5. NutCase... He's been on my mind all day. I keep replaying Saturday over and over because it was so good..., and I got the chance to be passionate like I haven't been in a while. I even got to make him feel and show his passion, too. (If you haven't had a Leo, you need to get one at least once. The man that marries this Leo is gonna be sooo lucky.) It's too bad that it's not love because I'm strictly in lust. Maybe he'll turn me around, but I doubt it. And there's nothing wrong with that because I'm not intending to lead him on.

All I'm thinking is I need about 4 more orgasms the way he makes it happen. The kind of orgasm that inspires animal sounds that never come out except when you're doing the Grown Folk. The kind of orgams that makes you absolutely sleepy, and you may consider sleeping with your thumb in your mouth, and I never sucked my thumb as a kid. It was delightfully cozy laying on his chest and wrapping his arm around my neck, and I held on to that large, muscular bicep like it was a brand new graham-colored teddy bear. There was a nice closeness, but the animal nature that everyone needs from time to time was there, too. I guess he also helped push away those feelings about the last guy that I just knew I could marry one day. I think I've turned NutCase into my rebound guy....

6. Georgia beat Auburn!!! There was some brilliant college football this weekend. I'm sad to see the season wrapping up, but it was excellent while it lasted. BTW, I don't care one lick about the Ohio State/Michigan game. I guess I'm not a real college football fan...but I never said I was diehard like that.

7. Diet Dr. Pepper. I don't wanna be a Pepper, but I sure like drinking stuff that has no calories whatsoever.

Share yours....

Is it playing around or settling?

Saturday was pretty easy but especially eventful. Thanks to NOPI coming in from work, I woke up around 5 am and never went back to sleep until much later. I stayed up, cleaned a bit, and got out of the house around 7:30 to run errands. Yes, I made it out of the house to recycle a lot of materials stashed away a corner of the kitchen, drop off a suit and skirt for dry cleaning, pick up groceries, and buy 9 gallons of delicious, purified water. (30 cents ain't bad because that tap water is the pits.)

I almost wanted to throw myself at a guy in the grocery parking lot. He had a nice height and build, dressed conservative yet funky and stylish, and a beautiful smile accented by a neat goatee. Talk about a caramel delight.... I smiled because I was proud to have so much accomplished by 9 am, and he smiled to ask about the smile. I continued pushing those gallons to the car, but I had a classic "shoulda, woulda, coulda" moments: I shoulda told him he had a beautiful smile, nice hat, something. Instead, I gushed about my pride in my accomplishments, yet I had too much pride to put myself out there and give a compliment to a deserving brother. Maybe I'll return to that grocery store next Saturday morning although I usually fly past the neighborhood store to shop at the huge national chain. Instead of sulking, I had to rush home to meet the electrician because the breaker box had some sizzling action and sparks behind the switches. (Everything turned out fine, but I still had to cancel my trip to see my family in Middle Georgia.)

I already know what really held me back. Yes, I'm a little shy sometimes, and I was especially shy because he was talking to an older gentleman in the parking lot, too. I didn't need a witness to my possible embarrassment from a possible rejection. What really did me in was the fact that he works at the grocery store. Not the manager but possibly working stock or registers. Am I too good to date someone employed by a grocery store? I'd say no because guy seemed really nice, and at least he's working an honest job instead of walking around in an oversized white tee (more like a dress) because his life's ambition is being fulfilled as a trap boy. BTW, working in the trap can't be shit because I don't see the glamour in standing in the weather to sell drugs, and you might not have a car to get into later. Damn wannabe thugs get on my nerves. But I digress.... It's always criminal for a sista to analyze a brotha and automatically determine that a brotha is not for her for whatever reasons. Whether it's height, weight, location, money, car, his style, his occupation, or even his 5 kids by 4 women. Let a sista decide that a dude won't cut it, and she's a gold digger, opportunist, or just a bitch. If knowing what works for me in being with a guy, then I'll definitely be that bitch.

Like with my friend, NutCase, the guy who really adores me. He's nice enough, but he tends to take a lot of my shit for no good reason. For some women, that's just the dude to fit a selfish agenda. For moi, that's exactly why NutCase and I can't be a couple. I don't want a guy that I can walk all over any time I feel like it. He doesn't stand up for himself, and I can say just about anything I want. Honestly, I need a man that I know can handle my mighty mouth and will put me in my place or at least will tell me to be quiet or shut up when necessary. If he can hndle me, he can probably handle other things in life that a man should be able to take care of. Whenever I speak to NutCase, I have such hope that he'll have something mature, intelligent, or substantial to say, and it usually doesn't happen. It's as if he's scared to say the wrong thing or look bad in front of me.

This acquaintance reminds me of Niles Crane's fantasies about Daphne Moon on one of my favorite shows, "Frasier". Niles always loved Daphne and finally got his chance with Daphne several years later. Once they were a couple, Niles was still caught up in his perfect image of Daphne. He made her out to be so perfect that he couldn't bring himself to be intimate with her, as if he didn't want to break the fantasy. Once it was figured out, Niles ID'd some flaws in Daphne, she did the same, they fought a little, but they made up...for real made up. Finally, Niles is having coffee with his brother Frasier, and he shares that they've finally made love, and it was nothing like he dreamed it would be, but it was better.

The point: I think NutCase is doing something similar like that with me. I think he has a fantasy of how great it would be for us to be a couple because he thinks I'm so attractive, smart, and funny. That's nice, but it really turns me off that he cannot focus on presenting himself. What he's presenting cannot be the real thing, and it sho as hell betta not be "the representative" because his rep would be beyond wack, but I'm starting to see signs of who he really is. Every now and then, he'll show that he has knowledge and opinions of some things such as Swiss watches and football. Usually, he's too childlike for me. That's disturbing because he has a pretty nice body. 5'11", light complexion slightly darker than mine but not "redbone", huge arms, thick, muscular legs, and a playground tummy which I really don't mind because I like meat on a man. So, a big child is being presented in that man's body. Not the inner child, but a child who will often hear me say, "Stop whining," and his immediate response in a whiny voice is, "I'm not whining." Sounds about 7 years old to me. BTW, I still can't make these things up.

Now, despite these issues, we've made it to the bedroom. Not because this will be the way to make him fall in love with me and value the great woman I am. I'm not digging him in an "Always and Forever" type way, so it's strictly physical. Even if I was seriously contemplating a relationship, we wouldn't have slept together yet. But now that we have, I'm a slight bit hooked on his member, but not him. Nothing wrong with a cut buddy, and nothing wrong with the member at all. NutCase's member makes me think of a t-shirt that an ex-boyfriend would wear, and the ex really didn't have the true justification for a shirt that reads: "The Man [arrow above the words pointing to the head]" and "The Legend" [arrow below the words pointing to the other head]. Now, NutCase...he's justified. I thought he was lying just to be saying that he was well-endowed, but he's not. Not at all. It's almost scary to look at his "friend". It's definitely scary to think of taking all of what he has, but he knows how to use it without trying to "beat it up" like the songs say. I'd be lying if I said my girl didn't like his man. We have to work on the kissing, but he's willing to learn what I like, and he wants to do what I want done to me. I love it! I can only imagine what the future will hold. I've never felt so good on top in my 29 years. Whew!!! And it's Leo on Leo....wow.

But does this mean that I'm playing around to pass the time because I know something else is coming around in the future, or if I decide to take him seriously and consider a relationship, would I be settling? At least sex is out of the way, and I know that I'm not settling there. But sex does not make a relationship that could lead to marriage, children, and a serious lifetime commitment. I look at him and everything I know about him, and I still want to know more because he really is a decent guy for the most part, but I'm keeping hope alive that he'll tighten up. Maybe he really does want to leave his job as a stock person at Publix (there's that grocery thing again) and ultimately get a CDL, just the way I want to. Maybe he doesn't understand that he's whining and he doesn't want that behavior to rub off on his 1 year old son. (A 30 something child raising a child...can you imagine?)

I'm holding on to hope that I won't be superficial and will be able to see past his present situation and occupation if I consider a relationship with him. I want him to see past this image he seems to have built up for me to be perfect. He knows that I can be a mean witch, but he knows I have a sweet, giving side because he loved my chili and homemade cornbread Saturday night. While I'm having more hope than Jesse Jackson can inspire, I'll gladly take my cut buddy for a few more rounds.

Why You Wanna?

I haven't talked to Beaver too much these past 10 days. The last time we truly spoke was on last Sunday before Halloween. We went to my parents' house, and Mom was happy to have the company. We tore up the meatloaf, macaroni, crowder peas, and cornbread (always homemade). It was delicious. Later, me and Beaver went downstairs and watched the Flavor of Love Reunion show. He asked me to cuddle up to him, but I was doing some stuff on the computer at the same time. He said he understood, and I planned to go over to him as soon as I wrapped up. Coincidentally, I finished when the show was over, and I went directly to the couch. I laid my big head on his chest, and immediately, Beaver got up so we could leave. Makes as much sense as Dubya delivering an original speech he wrote himself.

While I was on the computer, Beaver asked, "Are you seeing anyone." My simple answer was, "No." I waited a few minutes then asked, "What about you? Seeing anyone?" Beaver says, "Not really, but I got my eye on someone." Being the vain egomaniac I am, I'm hoping that he's referring to me, but I can't guarantee it would be me. Remember, I'm still holding on to hope that he'll come around to doing what is best for us: getting himself together physically so we can be together. Yeah, it's still shallow, but it's what I want, and it should be what he wants so he can spend some time on this planet.

He drops me off, and we talk on the phone later that night. I let out everything that I've been feeling. I kinda want us together, I want him to lose weight and freshen the breath, I know it's shallow, but I pretty much don't want someone else to have him either. I can tell that Beaver is surprised, but the one thing he can't do is confirm that I'm the lady that he's watching because he's seeing if we can be together. Beaver's eye really is on someone else besides me! The audacity of it all! So someone else will be getting his touchy feely, hug you long time hugs?

Hurt isn't the word. It may be closer to heartbroken because I laid my heart and feelings out there on the line for him, and all Beaver could say was, "I'm sorry." He couldn't even give the better sounding reason of, "I'm just not ready for what you want," or, "I'm happy being my out of shape self, and I'm not interested in changing for you or anyone else." Just a sad, simple, "I'm sorry." I couldn't say much else and told him I would speak with him later. I usually just don't end a convo that easily and abruptly but I really had nothting else to say.

So, he called about 3 times that week, and I know one time I pressed "IGNORE" on the cell to send him straight to VoiceMail. I finally talked to him later this week, and I missed him. Bad thing is I still want my cake and wanna eat it, too. He's always been good for me, but he's still much bigger than what I like at all. I can't play myself like that, but I feel like New York from "Flavor of Love" because I let him back in after I shut the doors, so I kinda played myself anyway.

I haven't given up on men, and I don't think I will. I think I seriously need a break from the fellas. Heartbreak, rejection, and regret are some big bitches, and I don't wanna go toe-to-toe with them again because my bitchy ways may not be able to compete. Damn this love stuff.

Wow, I haven't blogged in a minute. So, to avoid being a complete slacker, I'll say something.

My Mama's Banana Pudding was off the chain tonight! Yes, I'm doing better this month with watching my eating habits. I even kept the neckbones, green beans, crowder peas, and two bites of homemade cornbread (not that Jiffy cake stuff) to a minimum. But Banana Pudding??? Mama put it down on this Sunday.

Mama used to always put it down most days of the week. I still joke that her cooking is the reason that she had three fat kids. It's not completely her fault, but most of the women on my Mama's side can cook, especially on her mother's side. If I grew up in Macon, GA with those women, I probably would be too big to shop in regular stores. That's how good it is!

Mama and my older brother left the slow life in Macon for the speedier life in Atlanta. She brought her skills to the city and got my Daddy and brother nice and fat. She wasn't always superb because her first few attempts at biscuits always ended up on the wall unbroken. My brother was known to say, "You can use these to play baseball!" Well, she kept at it and gave us some of the best biscuits that Pillsbury can't imagine. Mama always had the neighbors kids clamoring for her biscuits, so she had to make about 30-40 at a time. She even made Ghetto-Aid with FOUR cups of sugar. She made German Chocolate Cake, Sweet Potato Pies, and Banana Pudding straight from scratch. Her Red Velvet Cake is infamous. You know the way some Red Velvet Cakes look more fuschia or pink? Mama's is usually blood red with real cream cheese icing with pecans to boot. Yes, Lawd, my Mama can throw down! I've always believed that most other Mamas were completely beneath my Mama because my Mama is the best cook...period.

Well, her kids grew up and eventually moved out. Her grandkids used to be there everyday after school, but their Mom gave up management in Corporate America to be a housewife (or Diane, Jr. as she calls herself). She had no one to cook for 4-6 days a week. Then, when she would cook, no one would eat. Me and my brother began to have the privelege of buying fast food 2, 3, and 4 times a week if we chose because we were making money that we could spend how we liked. Dad didn't have to worry about spending his hard-earned income at anyone's restaurant because it was usually just him and Mama. He barely took us to any restaurants when we were younger. I think my last Happy Meal was at 5 - not 9 or 10 like normal kids. So, with all of these new developments, why should she cook on a regular basis?

I could see her point, especially when I know I visited once every 1-2 weeks. But for me, things got out of hand when she went nearly one whole month without cooking Sunday dinner like she was outside of the South. Where's the big Sunday dinner? Can we even get the small Sunday dinner? Some Mrs. Winner's Chicken? Subway? If I was mad as a visitor, imagine the fury of my black Santa Claus father.

So, it's like a special occasion when Mama cooks these days. Mama done broke us off THREE Sundays in a row! Good times is an understatement. Makes me damn near want to cry. Dad isn't complaining as much, and they're even more playful. It's just like what I hear from older people and straight from the pulpit: You gotta keep doing what you were doing when you got your man/woman. Don't change it up and get lazy. My Mama isn't lazy, but I think she might have been going through more than she wanted to say if she stopped cooking. Now, she's back...for now. I hope she continues on because I love her cooking, and we love her for it. More than just the cooking, but y'all get the point. If you don't, then you're welcome to College Park to sip iced tea as the cholesterol courses through your body and the deliciousness warms your soul.

Randomness

My mama's cooking is so good. My friends that have eaten at my parents' house know exactly why me and my brothers were never skinny kids. The food is too damn goowood! Meatloaf, sweet potato souffle, crowder peas, and cornbread were on the Sunday menu, and it really was great! When Mama cooks on Sundays these days, it's like a holiday because Mama doesn't cook like she used to.

I'm really crushed that my Dawgs lost to the Florida Gators...again. This was the 15th lost in 17 games. But if the two previous true freshman quarterbacks didn't win against the Gators, why would this one? This is one of the games that makes a Dawgs fan's season worth the support and energy, and the best way to make the Dawg Nation happy was to use a barely experienced TRUE freshman QB??? It wasn't just him, but plenty of mistakes were made all around. I just won't speak on the rest of them before I get upset.

Atlanta is a terrible place for dating. I've been disappointed twice in one week, especially when someone's girlfriend calls my cellphone. WTF?

I'm so glad that Halloween is almost here. I'm sad that October 31 is almost here because it'll be gone soon. Then all the creepy, scary shows and movie moments will go away.

I'm gonna be so fine in September '07. I gotta get past October '06 because it was a bad month, but I'm gonna work it out. I'm gonna eat better, and I'm not gonna let any of the Halloween candy stay in the house. All of it will be out of the house by October 31. I love Butterfinger Crisps and dark chocolate, but I can't give 'em out. I'll try to snack on 'em, and they'll counter my plans to be fine in September '07. I'm doing decently now, but I need to be off the chains quite soon.

Au revoire, gente!

Yo momma is so skinny...

she can hoola hoop with a Froot Loop.

Mmmm...no. Not that funny. Not the kind of joke that I or my lil bro NOPI would use. He has this keen gift for connecting with kids (making him the best babysitter and uncle) and coming with cracks from out of nowhere. Just heelarious for no reason at all.

So, I'm more than excited that NOPI got a callback from the wonderful people at MTV. He has an audition for the Atlanta "Yo Momma"!!! It's about time he gets to showcase his gift. I would share a lot of the stuff he has said that makes my sides and face hurt as I try to catch my breath from laughing, but some competition might see it. I'll put it this way: he warns people to stop trying to snap - really "Jone"; we can say it but no one really knows how to spell it - or he'll hurt their feelings. They don't listen, he wears them out, then they either walk away silent, get mad, or the usual combination of both. The boy don't care if he hurts your feelings. Just ruthless. But guaranteed to make you laugh!

See, NOPI is one of the funniest people I know. A lot of my family members are funny, and plenty of NOPI's friends are funny, but NOPI is hands down the funniest dude period. One time when we were still living with our parents, I walked into NOPI's bedroom to use our bathroom. It had to be around 6 AM, and he had gotten off from work after 4 AM. He woke up and said something like, "Now you know you too big to try to sneak in here all quiet." Who the hell wakes up snapping??? Just NOPI. Our older brother would've been proud to see how heelarious NOPI has become.

Back when NOPI was just that irritating little brother we had to take everywhere, he was just a lame. We took up for him from time to time, but generally, he was left out there on his own. We left him out there all the time when he was really convinced that me and the older brother were Mom and Dad's only kids but he was adopted by Uncle Junebug. We used to tell him, "Uncle Junebug had too many at the time, and they just gave you up to Mom and Dad. They didn't have as many as Uncle Junebug so they could handle one more." The sad thing is he kinda takes after Uncle Junebug who takes after my Dad's father, but my Dad takes after his mother. That always explained the height and those slanted eyes. We would die laughing and he would be madder than a mother of 8 who got to the store at 6:02 pm on Christmas Eve to make the last layaway payment for Christmas gifts.

So, NOPI gradually learned how to take up for himself without having to fight all the time. He had his words that created way more sting than his fists and stomps would. As the years passed, NOPI was able to keep up with our older brother, and he even stung him a couple of times. By the time he graduated high school, he had been nominated as Class Clown but declined (more like he said, "Fuck y'all"). He was always up to something wild, crazy, stupid, childish, but plain funny.

I still remember him telling me how he met my 12th Grade English teacher, Mrs. McSwain. Just knowing you had her on your schedule shook many a senior. No one really joked with her, and she really wasn't known for being warm. She knew me quite well because I flunked her AP English class, but she taught me how to write the best papers ever, expecially with that paper on Tennessee Willliams' "The Glass Menagerie". I still cherish the 92 I earned on all 15 pages.

Eventually, Mrs. McSwain's career took her to becoming Assistant Principal of the other high school that my younger brother attended. So, five years after experiencing the intellectual and well-behaved joy of yours truly, Mrs. McSwain gets the surprise of her life when a chunky boy of average height, chinky eyes, and loud mouth goes barrelling down the hallway yelling at the top of his lungs with both arms outstretched touching the lockers...about 2 minutes after the late bell had rung.

Mrs. McSwain steps in front of him and looks down her nose through those glasses. "Young man, why are you doing this? What is your problem?"

NOPI just says with a shrug of his shoulders, "I 'on' know. Just felt like it. "

Mrs. McSwain's takes in a deep breath and has to ask, "Young man, what is your name."

"NOPI." He gives his last name, too. Mrs. McSwain processes this information and a light of recognition sparkles in her eyes. Confusion immediately follows.

"Wait a minute. I taught someone with that same name. Don't you have a sister named -"

He cuts her off, "Yeah. She's the nerd, and I'm the cut up. Nothing alike."

Mrs. McSwain asks in amazement, "She didn't rub off on you in anyway?"

NOPI just looks at her like she' just said "Crack is whack," and doesn't give her any words. He instead bangs on the lockers for several seconds with an insane fury while looking her dead in the eye. All McSwain could do was shake her head. She never liked my brother while he was there, and NOPI didn't give a frog's fat ass.

Now, he goes to work at night with all of the other dock workers at his trucking company. They're all well paid, and they do their job while snapping all night long. People try to get him, and they rarely do. He just talks trash and cracks people up from the time he clocks in until he leaves. NOPI then comes home and will tell me what he and his coworkers had to say and just what he told one of them to make them walk off or ride down the dock. Like the time he told the big lip dude that he and his wife eat dinner like a prisoner having visitation with glass separating them because she gets tired of being drowned and showered in his saliva and food chunks. That's only a small sliver of the genius that he crafts out of cracking on folks.

He's part of the reason I'm scared to have kids. If I had a little boy, I'd be terrified that he'd come out with those same chinky eyes that my brothers always use to find an opportunity to roast on anybody, anywhere, anytime. I'd go crazy with another NOPI around me. It would be fun, but I'd go crazy.

BTW, I'm predicting that he'll be the best in College Park. Maybe he'll win $1000 cash money, but I know he'll be the best in College Park. He can't help it. Damn fool, but I love him.

I seemed to have gotten a little shook by Beaver's comments about me being shallow. The crazy part is that he does not recall mentioning that I can be shallow at times. "I would never call you shallow," he said. I felt my pimp hand getting strong because I sho wanted to pop him in the lip. Why put thoughts in the atmosphere if you won't be able to remember such important things? Granted, he probably said it in passing, but you never know how little small things can have a big impact on someone or their life.

To this day, me and my Mama are like day and night. People that I've known for years or that have just met me and Mama will tell me, "You look just like your Mama!" We look at each other and wonder, "What are they smoking?" She has that "Indian in my family" hair that she can literally wash and go, and I got a little bit of that because my hair is soft and fine. If I walk out the door with water, setting lotion, or gel in my hair, best believe that it's gonna draw up like the family jewels in icy water. But looking like her? Well, I might have her smile because I saw a picture of her some time ago, and I recognized my twinkle in her eyes. So folks ain't that crazy after all. But we're not mirror images.

I always thought that I looked like my Daddy. I was always a Daddy's girl, and I always took pride in looking like him. My Mama is an attractive woman, but it was cool to know that I can look at my Daddy, and I see myself in his face.

Now, where do my parents really think I got my looks and my ways? My Dad's sister, Gin Gin (may she rest in peace). She was my grandma's only girl, and she didn't take after her mother too much. I appreciated her more as an adult because she was funny, and everyone in the family is just funny. She was cool and down for her kids, even if they lived off MLK in da hood for real for the longest time. Her persona was bigger than life...but so was the rest of her. Gin Gin was a very large woman. Tall and wide. She didn't always have the prettiest looks on her face, but there was a beauty there and you could see how she attracted the men that gave her three wildly wonderful daughters. She was big, had a loud mouth, was a terrible housekeeper, and always wore wigs that were sometimes kinda cocked the wrong way. That was Gin Gin. Loud and telling it like it is.

My Mama always had things to say to me as a child, but one thing I couldn't stand, and she knew it, was when she called out, "You're just like your Aunt Gin Gin!" I knew that was not a compliment just by her tone of voice. She started to get more specific, even with a 5 year old. "You're so loud like your Gin Gin! Why do you have to be so loud?"

Does a 5 year old really know that they are as loud as they are told? I had no idea. But I heard it a lot from Mama until it finally sunk in that maybe I shouldn't be so loud. Maybe no one else could stand to hear a loud voice like mine because Mama couldn't stand to hear it. So, I started to muffle myself. My loud raucous voice became more normal. But Mama would still call my voice "loud like Gin Gin". Maybe it was from my regular arguments with my brothers when my yells could be heard clear across the house. I wasn't loud all the time because I didn't read my books outloud; I always read silently. So, my normal voice became muted, too. Why? Because I couldn't dare be like Virginia. I was already a fat little girl that didn't admit to liking boys at age 10 when she was truly crazy about a bunch of boys. I didn't want to deal with, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" I had even bigger issues when I heard all of my parents' friends tell me regularly say, "Ooh, you're so pretty" or "That's a heartbreaker right there." So I'm getting my ego stroked from adults, but I have to have the pressure from my Mom of being like my aunt that would wear a light curly brown wig that was obviously not hers and was known for wearing ONE prescription lens secured by a string (maybe a shoelace) tied around her head. (I can't make this stuff up.)

That was a lot for a young girl to take in, and I refused to take it in as a teenager or a college student.

Well, Aunt Gin Gin died in Spring 2000. I unfortunately couldn't go to her funeral because I had to do my first day of training for my job. I really had big plans as a graduate to take this job, stick with the company for a few years so I could prove myself as invaluable and be recognized that way because I was promoted more than once. I was there for about a month.

Even though I still miss hearing Gin Gin 's loud mouth and hilarious realness, I stifled any similarities to Gin Gin because I couldn't possibly be her. Out of the question. But my grad chapter of my sorority had its first Masquerade Ball around Mardi Gras time in February 2005. Everyone was really just going to wear masks and go with the Mardi Gras theme. I had to go all out because I really wanted to surprise and shock people. I needed a wig to cover my nappy red crown. The same crown that identifies me anywhere I go. I don't think all of my sorors would know me without a red head. So who do I go to for help? My birthday twin and first cousin, Ray Ray, who is Gin Gin's oldest. I was asking her for shopping help on my outfit (and she showed out on that one), but she decided to lend me a wig, too.

What? A wig on moi? But my head is too big for a wig! It won't look right. Well, Ray Ray pulled out a favorite wig of hers: long, dark, and sleek. It made you think of Ike and Tina because it was very similar to one of the wigs from "What's Love Got To Do With It". She put it on my head, and it was a tad tight...but I got used to it. She sprayed, slicked, shined, glossed, and combed that wig into bootiful. I had to give Ray Ray her props: "Damn, Cousin! You did that!" Ray Ray laughed at her proper cousin using hood talk to compliment her, but what else could I possibly say?

I felt really good with that wig on. I felt my inner Vanity come out when I got to swinging that hair around. I got a lot of compliments with that wig. My brother, NOPI, even told me, "You need to grow some hair. That looks real good on you."

I asked, "Why I gotta have long straight hair to be cute."

NOPI said, "I ain't say all that, but that wig flatters you. Looking like a lil Gin Gin." Hmm...

Dad saw Gin Gin in me when I was sporting the wig, too. I saw my Mama cringe when she heard Daddy saying I looked just like my auntie, but it didn't bother me anymore. The cool thing was it didn't bother me at all.

After all those years of hearing how I was gonna grow up and be just like Gin Gin, I finally realized that being like Gin Gin ain't so bad. She wasn't the only one to wear wigs or color her hair. All of her daughters are good for "hair enhancements". I even found a rare picture of Dad's grandmother decked out with a fly hat and purse (well, fly for 1960 something) and the wig to top it off. This hair thing is in my genes! This is who I am. I'm a big beautiful full-figured woman who loves to color her hair and change up her look. I love to look good. And God blessed me with the gift of VOLUME! Yes, my twins have volume, and so do my hips. But God did a serious job on my mouth and my lungs. I have a big ol' mouth that I use to say what I want and make sure my thoughts are heard. Just like Gin Gin. Just as sassy as I wanna be. I hate to admit to the housekeeping part, but I am pretty junky in the bedroom. I'm working on it.

Any way you look at it. I'm a lot like Gin Gin. I'm not her spitting image, but I do have a lot of Gin Gin in me, and I know this is a reflection of women I am descended from. We all have those wide hips and thighs that are undeniable. I didn't appreciate the obvious until I was 27 years old.

It pisses me off sometimes. My Mom really had an effect on my development. Sometimes I feel like my growth into womanhood was stunted because my Mama insisted that being like my aunt was such a negative. Actually, it's not. I love being loud. I don't do it all the time, but it's a helluva gift when it's needed. No one else can use their lungs the way I do. Except Gin Gin. Sometimes I think that I could've been more outgoing a lot earlier in life. Mabe my loudness could've been more nurtured as a child or teenager, and I would have been a more phenomenal young adult during my college years. A lot of "What Ifs" always swirl in my head because of a few small words from one important person in my life. I can't blame my mother's words forever because I have been making changes on my own. But seriously...what if I had been told something like, "That loudness would be good in a debate, in cheerleading, on a step team, for organizing volunteer drives"? What if? Damn those lil words.

Damn I'm flawed Part II

So, after I pour my heart out to Beaver. It's quiet. Real quiet. Coulda heard a rat pee on cotton.

"Now you get it? Is that clear enough?"

Beaver is still quiet. Then, when he speaks, he seems to take his time. "Yeah. I hear you. It makes sense now."

So, despite the yelling match we had just for too long, we're finally back on the same page. Beaver took me literally when I said we should be just friends. I really did mean that, but it seems that I wanted our "friendship" to be the same way it was when he was really digging me and obviously wanting to be my man. He would always come out my way to see me. He always had time to just sit on my couch and watch television with one of us resting our head on the other. Essentially, I was somewhere in the top five in his life.

At this point, I felt like #44. Despite the fact that we've become friends again, he still hasn't reached out to come see me. He doesn't have to kiss my ass, but I do think he should go out of his way to see me because he has some more making up to do after playing Houdini.

So, although he said he was "spent" because he was trying to figure out what the hell I was complaining for, he was cool again. Meanwhile, I was the one who was spent. He noticed because I actually was quiet for once. How can a chick like me keep her big trap shut?

"You aiight?" Beaver asked.

"Yeah. Just really spent after expressing all of those emotions. I don't usually go to deep when it comes to how I feel."

Beaver agreed. "Yeah. You're usually kind of shallow."

Now that hit like a bomb. Say what? I'm shallow? For real? I knew I had the flaw that I am a bit self-centered. Everytime I take one of those personality tests, I'm always "self-centered". I even took the dessert test and was being indecisive among three of the eight original choices. I finally decided, and my creamy treat made me self-centered and high maintenace. Now, on top of that, I'm shallow. How ya like that isht?

This is the decree from the brotha that used to be around me saying with pride, "I'm a nigga!" We almost lost our friendship behind that blatant silliness, too. I use the word "nigga", but my sentiments on that word are the same as Chris Rock's. "I love Black people. I can't stand niggas." So for me to associate with someone that identified with himself as a "nigga" was awful. Well, we got past that, but I'm still the shallow one.

But imagine what I would be if I went all willy nilly expressing my feelings everyday. I don't think he would call me too much any more. Seriously.

Well, at the end of this day, Beaver and I are friends again. We're pretty gravy. I can't call if we're meant to be a couple ever. I can't call anything except my car because it's quitting time.

Damn, I'm flawed

I'll be the first to admit that I think highly of myself. If you don't hold yourself in a high regard, why should anyone else? So, while I've never defined myself as perfect, sometimes I feel slightly above average in that respect. After all, I did make the great decision to go to UGA, and I'm being loyal although we lost to those damn Vols. *sigh*

Never mind SEC football for now. *GASP!* I have to go a little deep now. I don't usually go deep because I'm really not one to go deep into my emotions. And that's a really big flaw that I discovered today because of Beaver. It's a long story.

See, I decided it would be okay if we tried to be friends again. He wanted it, and I really missed his friendship, so I was glad to give it another shot. But I was wary all the while. I knew that he was quite capable of leaving on a whim as a form of self-defense because I didn't want to be evil and say, "I love you," just because he said it first. I had a love for him as a friend, but it wasn't the same burning need for a commitment love that he felt. Knowing that it was possible I may never feel the same, I had to keep my eyes open while opening my heart to him again. Just to see what he would do. But should I hold on to the past if we're moving forward? You shouldn't hold on to the emotions of what happened, but you should digest the meat of what happened and get some sustenance from it so you learn the lesson and grow.

So, things are going decent for me and Beaver. I even told him about NutCase being pretty wack to me. So wack that I really am not interested in going out with him for a free lunch or dinner because it would drain my intellect and spirit to be with someone so needy so early that he can't express anything except his attraction to me. It's pathetic, and I see why some guys never call some women back when they're so obviously interested. Wow...I see what happened with me and my April "friendship".

But I start to notice things. As if I'm looking for trouble, but I truly feel that I was not looking for it. I just kept my eyes open because I'm quite observant. I can run my mouth with the best of them, but I pay attention to everything. So, I start adding up what I have observed. Although Beaver has remained consistent with his compliments like calling me beautiful and funny, his lack of actions are screaming way more than anything he could vocalize. He wants to get together with me but doesn't put forth real effort to get together, but it's a smack in the face when he can call me from his ex wife's house or he can let me know he's hanging out with his folks. It's more like a punch in the chest like that game the boys would play in middle school. Don't let Donnell catch Keon slipping with his chest exposed, or it would be BLAWWWWW! right to the chest with Keon doubled over and rubbing his chest swearing, "You punch like a bitch."

But how can someone you're not interested in affect you so much? It sounds like a relationship! That's what Beaver said tonight. We had to talk after the evil message I left for him on Sunday night.

See, late Sunday night, I was thinking over the idea he had in a conversation we had on Wednesday. He knew I was still irked about him hanging with his ex-wife when he made no time for me on that particular Sunday. So, he wanted to make it up to me. It was his idea to try to hang out on the following Sunday because he already knew I was busy on Saturday (until SuperChica had to be with her man - can't hate on that). So, I didn't hold my breath just hoping he would come correct and call me to say, "Hey, you hungry?" or "Let's do something." I was hoping something would happen because I didn't want to prove that I exposed my heart even in the smallest way just to have him punch all over it again. His absence (combined with the end of the April affair) made me cover up the heart, but to gain anything in life, you have to take chances. Maybe befriending him again would be good for my soul. I knew about Beaver's issues after he told me, so why not be cool with him again. We might even get back to where we were before.

Well, Sunday comes and it's almost passed by without a word from him. Hmm...so he could call and rub in my Bulldawg's loss and he could ask me to come meet him at Taco Mac in Decatur on Saturday night, but he couldn't reach out to come see me? Sounds like a relationship again right? No...it's more like he and I agree that he fucked up on Memorial Day to bounce, so it makes perfect sense to me that he should put in some work to be completely cool with me again: he should go out of his way to see me - even for just a few minutes. Now, he did reach on Wednesday, but by the time he got out of class, I would be at the gym working out because I gotta be fine in September, so I was committed to myself. But his actions after Wednesday just seemed that he wasn't committed to making things better between two friends after all the craziness of this year. That pissed me off.

So, he had to know I was done. I left one message that just stated I was through. He called back and requested some dialogue because he was confused. I didn't talk, but it was fair to let him know what my deal was. So I called him 4 hours later, but he didn't answer after 3 attempts. Good job. (And he's heard that sarcasm very recently.) So my second frustrated voicemail went something like this:

"I've called you three times, and you're still not available. Your actions just go to prove my observations and conclusions to be correct about you. This is the second Sunday where you didn't do anything with me even though you said you wanted to. So, this makes you a hypocrite because you get mad when I'm not available but you don't make yourself available to me, even for just a few minutes. So, not only are you a hypocrite, but you're also a liar. I can't stand to deal with liars, and I'm pissed off about that. So, you do me a favor: lose my number. You have no obligation to call me back. I bid you good luck in whatever you pursue in this life, but I won't be a part of it."

So, I hung up the phone and felt confused but better. I wanted things to work out between us as friends because he really has a cool personality (except liking that damn Chicken Noodle Soup). But I guess deep down I was holding out to see if maybe we could reconnect in some way beyond friendship. I think it was more for my selfish ego to see that he couldn't be without me and couldn't resist his need to not fall in love with someone who might not ever love him back. Regardless, it's a done deal, and I fall asleep around 12:30.

I hear my phone because I'm thinking it's my alarm. I have to set my cell phone alarm at least twice, then I have to set both alarms on my alarm clock because I swear I never hear the first alarm, so I set a second for 30 minutes later. I look at my phone to shut it up, but it's actually Beaver calling me at 5:13 am. I ignore it and actually turn the phone off. When I officially woke up, I thought that the better move would have been opening the flip phone and immediately closing it back. I've done it before with other guys, so what would put me above it now? Well, a need for more sleep. That was it.

I checked my phone later and he left a message. Beaver was pissed with me for not having that dialogue. He told me he'd forget my number alright, but where's the money I owed him because it's been a minute? He's got a point, and I'm not the shady person to not pay someone back. I've been burned by personal loans, so I won't do anyone like that.

My brilliant idea: I leave a voicemail of my own informing him that if he sends me an account number like he's done before, I'll deposit the money in his account this Friday and the following Friday.

Meanwhile, I gotta make some bread so I can buy some more healthy food. I get clean, clean the apartment up a bit, make some breakfast and coffee, and bounce to the job. It's a hard day because the system's slow for unknown reasons. Everyone is frustrated as the IT department works hard to get us up to speed. So, with all the frustration, Beaver doesn't cross my mind.

Until it slows down a bit. I couldn't wrap my mind around why someone would literally beg for a second chance but when he gets the second chance, he acts the damn fool. Just ignoring me. Then, I remember he says he has a way of sabotaging things for himself. It just hits me in the 7 pm hour. So, I send a text message:

"It just hit me Y U refused 2 still do right by me: self destruction or self sabotaging as you call it. That's 2 bad. Can U confirm if U got my msg & if terms R cool?"

Beaver calls immediately, but I'm busy at work. Nice lady, but she kept me on the line for 23 minutes! I said I'd call him back, and we eventually got a good chance to talk.

More like shout and get more ticked with each other. He told me he didn't still didn't understand my problem when I said it in clearer English in the voicemail. The shit wasn't justified to him. And it was really pissing him off.

"We arguing like we in a relationship, but it's not! So what's the point? And it still don't make no sense!" For a second, I almost felt like Beaver was on the verge of tears, more from anger and frustration than sad over the demise of anything.

"So my feelings make so sense to you? I'm telling you that I reopened a wound to let you back in, and you still don't hang with me! That's what's got me pissed off! How would you feel if it had been me that had suggested let's hang out, but I never call you, and when you finally hear from me, I tell you about who else I've been out with? Wouldn't that bother you?" Unknown to Beaver, this is exactly the same kind of stuff my first love took me through. Always telling me about his girlfriend, then another girlfriend, but my first love knew I was crazy about him, so much that I already knew I wanted to make pretty chocolate babies with him (and I'm just as red as can be).

Beaver's voice goes louder. "Hell naw that shit wouldn't bother me because we're just friends. If you were my fiancee, my girlfriend, my wife, year that would bother me, but we're just friends! That's why this shit don't make no damn sense!"

Aww that shit infuriated me! "You don't comprehend that I reopened a wound to let you back in to my life after May 31? You don't comprehend the wounds involved in this?"

Beaver shouts, "Rules? What rules? Now you making up shit!"

"No. Wounds. Like sores, scabs, injuries."

Just a little quieter: "Oh. I didn't hear you clearly, but I still don't get it either."

I've got to figure this out. Now that he's on the hone, I can't just give up on making him understand my point of view. Besides, I know I'm right because my feelings are involved in this. Then, a lightbulb finally goes off.

"Beaver, I think you're forgetting one key piece before May 31. Follow me on this, and then you're understand."

"Okay."

"Remember when you left without a word on May 31?"

"Yes, I remember May 31."

"Do you remember what I told you happened before May 31? About a week before May 31?"

A little quiet from Beaver. "No, not really."

"I told you that after all of the time I had known you, I decided that I might need to take you a little more seriously because you had been there for me through all kinds of craziness. You stuck around more than anyone, so I thought I should open my mind and heart to you a little more. Remember me telling you that after you came back around after Labor Day?"

"Hmmm...yeah. Now, I do."

"So my opening up to the idea of us being friends again is like reopening a wound that was almost healed but not quite all the way. I was taking a chance after being hurt because you made me really feel that you really cared about me. Why else would you call me so much and make so much effort to get back good with me again? But when you don't make any effort, time, energy for me, then it's almost like your slapping me in the face again and it looks like you really don't care at all. So that would make me wrong again, not so smart after all, and just as hurt as I was before. All because it seems like you just don't care at all."

TO BE CONTINUED...