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.
11.26.2006
11.21.2006
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.
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.
11.19.2006
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).
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).
11.15.2006
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.
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.
11.13.2006
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....
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....
11.12.2006
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.
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.
11.08.2006
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.
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.
11.06.2006
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.
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.
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