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...

Is it me or the "men"?

It's Saturday night, and I'm home. I'm comfortable with this because I'm screaming as I watch my Georgia Bulldawgs (#10) battle against one of our major SEC rivals, The Volunteers of Tennessee (#13). It's an excellent game. How about my Dawgs had an 86 yard punt return in the first half, and we just had a 99 yard kickoff return in the second half! I've been having the usual highs and lows with my Georgia Dogs, but we're currently still undefeated. They'll wrap this up the right way with over 12 minutes left in the 4th. I *HEART* NCAA Football!

I wonder how many women actually read that.


Once again, it's Saturday night. Now, I have a supposed interest from two fellas right now, but I tend to not think anything of it. Why should I when neither "man" stepped up and asked me out on a Saturday afternoon or night? Both of them just had to have me in my their life, but neither is making plans. Let's examine some evidence.

First, there's Beaver. After the great debate of him leaving without explanation but coming back, I decided to let him back in. I honestly missed his friendship...although he wasn't much of a friend to bounce that way. He really had some deep issues, so I thought it would be best to give Beaver the benefit of the doubt. I'm usually more optimistic about men, but I'm praying that it's not naivete or foolishness with Beaver.

Well, on last Friday, he called and asked if it would be okay if he might see me on Sunday. "Well," I started, "I may be a little busy on Sunday, but just call me on it. I'm sure we can work it out." Sounds like a green light, right? Okay, maybe a little yellow is in there, but there wasn't a red light or stop sign.

Sunday comes, and Beaver and I get on the phone. I can't remember who made the call. Somewhere in the convo, Beaver starts talking to someone else. "Oh, I'm talking to Denise [his ex-wife]." I say, "Oh, she's on the phone." Beaver nonchalantly says, "No, I'm over at her place."

My women's intuition kicks with the quickness. Why are you with your ex-wife before 11 am when neither one of you attends church? Even if y'all did, y'all are running late to make the 11 am service and get good parking at any one of Atlanta's huge churches. I know that y'all are still friends, and you say she's a different person from the woman you married many years ago, but why are you there so early? Did you spend the night? And why aren't you trying to make it over this way if you're truly interested as you say you are?

Despite all of my concerns, I play it cool and continue the convo for a little longer. I even get him to ask Denise if she's interested in any toys because I'll take any opportunity to sell my "women empowerment tools". We joke around a bit, and I end the call.

Why did Beaver never show up that day? He didn't even call back. It really irked me that he found time to spend with his ex-wife, but he made a big deal about getting back in my life but hasn't found time to see me yet. That's some bullshit! So, my wheels are already turning on whether to cut my losses and keep enjoying my "Me Time" or work with him. There's a lot of oil on those wheels because that fool ain't here tonight either. So, when he insists on calling me beautiful, sexy, fine, etc., I recognize the smoke and I always shut down the compliment.
Why? Cuz that's some bullshit!

Up second is the new guy. Remember the Nut Case I met in the 9/28 blog? (I looked it up.) Well, he's still just as nutty. I kinda regret taking Nut Case's number. I still remember leaving my car and walking towards the store, and he was sitting behind the wheel of a 4Runner waiting for someone to come out. I immeidately looked away, but I recognized that awe on his face. I didn't say that he had to stare at me in awe, but that's how he looked.


So, me and Nut Case have talked quite a bit, and he's on some other weird bullshit. A lot of times, he'll just randomly say, "I love you." That pisses me off more than anything. You can have the Love of God for me because we're both children of God. Cool. You cannot love me the way a man loves a woman when we haven't gone out yet, and I still don't know much about you besides you find me to be beautiful. The whole thing is dumb, and I really don't wanna make time for a dummy.

But why did Nut Case leave a singing message for me on my voicemail? Why? Dude cannot sing! He couldn't hold a note with a 5 gallon bucket. It really was a turnoff because I've never been the kind of girl that melts at the sound of a man singing to me. I'll never have that moment that homegirl in "The Five Heartbeats" had when Eddie Cain, Jr. started blowing - blowing for real, for real. Remember she was squirming all in her seat and clutching the armrests? She fainted when Eddie Cain, Jr. (you gotta say the whole name) kissed her. That will neva happen for me. So when Nut Case is singing, "Good Morning, Sunshyyyyyyne! How you doin'? I been thinkin' about yooooou. Can't get you off my minddddd (Yes, emphasis on the "D") ," I was not impressed. He was off key, then had the nerve to ask why I hadn't called him. I take more calls than I make. So, the message did not impress me, but I was thoroughly entertained enough to save the message and play it for two of my coworkers. One died laughing, and the other thought it was sweet. Negative on that.

So, I'm about to do something else on my Saturday night because one guy hasn't made it happen, and the other guy is too wack to do anything with if he tries to make it happen. I know it'll improve some day, so I'll just chill with that. In the meantime, my Dawgs lost 51-33. That score is correct. It hurt, man. It did make me feel good to see the Tennessee coach get down on his knees with his players and wife to pray afterwards. I don't know if non-SEC or southern schools pray, but I know I love the SEC.

Why is Beaver calling?

My family is freakin' hilarious! I really mean that. We laugh, talk, play, joke, laugh some more, and have a good time together. I'm glad I was born into the family so I can't marry into it, but I'm so glad that I have the parents and siblings I have.

From the outside looking in, my friends and my brother's friends think that we have the coolest parents on Earth. And we do. What other parents can have a conversation with the baby boy that goes, "That motherfucker pissed me off so bad. I just wanted to say, 'Fuck you,' and get fired," and Mama responds, "Yeah! Fuck him!" We've even had friends stare at dismay and disbelief upon their first visit.

It's a shocker, but you get used to a Mama that chain smokes and cusses like a sailor and a Dad that makes fun of any and everybody within reach. Dad once told a friend of NOPI's, "I'm coming downstairs to turn on the air. I would ask you to do it, but I know you need to drag a chair over to reach that high, and I don't want you hurting yourself to do all that." That came from outta NOWHERE. Mama can keep up with most of the dances out today. I still remember catching her in the living room about 10 years ago doing the Bankhead Bounce. She was pretty good with her little self. That's where I got my dancing genes. Dad is old school fo' yo' ass. He carries a knife on him wherever he goes. Being without his knife just isn't an option. He'll pull it out faster than Lil Kim can run to the plastic surgeon. There's a bunch of stories in the family involving Dad and his knives. He doesn't mess with guns at all. He's never explained why, but if we think alike as much as I think we do, then he'd probably rather maim someone with a knife than to kill someone with a gun. Makes sense to me.

I really do love my folks, and we're entering this not so playful phase where I easily say, "I love you." We still have our fun where Dad calls me his "fat baby girl", and me and Mama always disagree and playfully fuss about something. It's just what we do in my family. Saying those three words just don't come as easily to us. It never has.

The first time I heard my Mama say those words was one time when me, Mama, lil bro NOPI, and my big brother, Eddie Cooler (that was a HS nickname...RIP) were in the kitchen after one of EC's visits. This was about 12-15 years ago, and EC had moved out a long time ago. EC was on his way out the door when Mama easily said, "I love you." Nonprovoked by a hug or mushy lovefest or a Family Matters moment on TV. Just out of the blue. So out of the blue that it through Eddie Cooler off and he bumped into the trash can by the door. He turned around with that devious but this time confused smile on his face. "What?" he asked. "I said, 'I love you,'" Mama repeated. "Oh," he said. Then, he returned to the middle of the kitchen floor still looking like someone called him a skinny white chick. (He was a stocky caramel boy that grew into a chunky but handsome caramel man with the most amazing hair.) When the confusion wore off, he and Mama hugged. Me and NOPI stared at each other because we hadn't recalled seeing Mama hugging on us since we were teens. Then, we all shook it off and hugged on one another while saying, "I love you."

It was a heartwarming moment that I cherish. We don't have too many of those moments in my family to this day. The last truly heartwarming moment between my younger brother and I was when my big brother died. I had to drive home from college about 1.5 hours away. They wouldn't tell me why I had to come home, but I had to come home. I figured someone had died by the time I pulled into the yard which was littered with cars. We had visitors from time to time, but not that many. When everyone else went away after I was informed, NOPI and I were outside under the carport by the kitchen door. He hadn't looked that sad ever. But NOPI and Eddie Cooler were pretty tight as brothers despite the 10 year age gap. I loved my big brother, but we never had that deep relationship that some brothers and sisters have. NOPI looked at me in the dark illuminated by the light from the kitchen. He simply told me in a breaking voice, "Don't ever leave me." We hugged very tightly for quite a few seconds. I told him, "As long as God is willing, I'll never leave you."

The best thing about my family is that we get pissed off at each other a lot. Despite that, we got each others' back. Most of the time. NOPI just jumped my car off this morning when the battery died on me. He didn't have to wake up from his deep sleep for me, but he woke up and barely complained. I even called him later with a question, and he wasn't phased. Now, that Gemini ain't nobody's angel, but he was pretty cool today. We're all pretty cool for one another at this point.

So, if I were ever asked if I would trade my family, I'd instantly say, "Oh hell naw!" I'd be bored with anyone else.