Fa La La La La My Ass

This past weekend, I attended the beautiful, love-filled wedding of one of my favorite sorors who helped me on my journey towards the Sigma Light. She really is a special 6'1" Amazon Sista, and I'm so happy she found genuine love with her gentle yet hilarious chocolate giant. For her gifts (because I missed the bridal shower and just brought her gift to the reception), I took a little piece of myself and put it into each part of the gifts. She has one of those cool books where the man and woman tear out a mystery page with instructions for a sexy/romantic encounter. She'll love it. Plus, I got an appliance off her registry that I know I'd enjoy, too. I wrapped it in beautiful baby blue and chocolate paper, but I took it to another level when I learned how to tie a ribbon into a nice box for her gifts. It's pretty good for a first try, especially when I wanted her to detect the personalized effort I put into the gifts. Seriously, how many people really receive gifts with bows tied by hand? How many gift bags do you have in your gift closet??? I was so excited that I took pics. This new talent might not lead to a gig wrapping gifts at Macy's during the Christmas season, but it sincerely felt good to do something special for someone else that I think of as special.


I must be more in a gift mood considering that Halloween is long gone, (damn I miss it). Thanksgiving is approaching, and laughter and good food with the family is being anticipated. So, here comes Christmas. On the real, the commercialization of the holiday has gotten on my last good nerves, so I cringe and make faces when I see all of the decorations, gift wrap, and God awful reindeer and sleigh earrings. I still appreciate the reason for Christmas, so I'll always celebrate the birth of Christ, but everything else surrounding Christmas on a retail level has just disturbed me.

But in the good ol' gift giving spirit (and therefore giving of myself which I can enjoy year round), I've decided to participate in a family gift exchange. This part of the family is kind of large and fruitful, so shopping for all of the adults, the kids who have grown up (my group), the kids who are still under 18, and the new kids of the grown kids gets expensive. That's why the adults and grown kids can choose to participate in the gift exchange. One of my aunts used to facilitate the whole gift exchange. She facilitates a lot of stuff, so I think she's completely over this gift exchange. Somewhere between last year and this year, she passed the task on to someone else. How gracious, right?

Well, I sent our newest facilitator an email reply from moi to report the requested gift items for $50 or less from my city's relatives. I communicated the requests, and I played facilitator in our city by telling the people who they're playing Santa for and providing the wish lists. But being the daughter I am, I came up with a novel idea for my mom: whoever has my mom's name can tell me what they didn't buy for her, and I can pick from those items so she can get TWO desired items. Nifty. I communicate this to our facilitator and just wait to hear back from Mama's Secret Santa.

I bet the facilitator is dealing with a bunch of stuff dealing with us, so there's no pressure. I appreciate that someone else stepped in. Honestly, I would've done it if I were asked, so I don't want to give much grief to the person who's doing it. But I get this email: "I just let the perfume off for your mom."

WTH??? I jumped to a conclusion, waited a minute to let it sink in, then stuck by the same conclusion: that's some straight BS. If I didn't know any better, I'd definitely say this person is manipulating the exchange instead of just facilitating. It's not like said person said something cool like, "I got your mom items A and B because I'm just ballin' like that, so the only thing left is the perfume." Naw... This one pretty much looked at the list and said, "Her daughter should buy her the perfume because it's the most expensive item." (It might not be if you look at the right websites.) Again, straight BS because if I wanted that to be done...., me and my bold self would've left the item off the list in the first place and bought it for her. But in the spirit of giving, I wanted to give the other party the chance to buy one of three nice items for my mom, and then I choose from the remaining items that weren't the giftgivers' first choice. That's my rationale because I love to give gifts that I would appreciate, so it's like giving a piece of myself, and maybe Mama's Santa wants to do the same thing. That's just the kind of woman I am. Besides the pissed off kind that dislikes obvious manipulation and BS.

The one good thing to come out of this moment is that I've learned that I'm not the only habitual line stepper (RIP "Slick" Rick James) out of my cousins. *sigh*

Shredded Papaya + _____ = who the hell knew that???

These papayas make me wish I was in another environment involving a beach, cocktails, and my man with Christmas songs playing on a small radio.

Instead of snuggling with my sweetie on Christmas Eve, I actually wound up hanging out with my brother, NOPI. His pregnant girlfriend was helping her mother with Christmas cooking and wasn't leavng the house at that point. So, in a not so completely odd move, NOPI invites me to an "Asian birthday party" with one of his homeboy's friends.

"Everybody's cool," NOPI assures me. "If you're cool, then everyone's cool with you."

I had nothing else I was doing, so I rolled out with NOPI. I hadn't been on the passenger side of his driving skills in a while, and I forgot THE most critical and salient rule of riding with NOPI: don't look up or out. The second you look up, he's pulling one of his moves, and you're finding anything to hold on to that'll keep you safely upright and that scream in your lungs. He knows what he's doing. The only major accident he's had lately was because his passenger said, "WHOA!" for no reason, and NOPI was hit in the side.

We get to extreme south Atlanta and find a standard recently-built apartment complex with several Asians hanging out around a grill on the bottom patio. There's more people inside just chilling. For all I know, more than one of them might be 30, but everyone looked between 18 and 26. I was probably wrong, just like most folks are wrong about my age. I just decided to fit in and just have a cool time.

I was shy like I normally am in the beginning because I'm soaking in the atmosphere. Like NOPI said, everyone was cool and welcoming. They made sure we had enough to eat and drink. Even the birthday boy was grilling all kinds of meat awaiting his 30th birthday on the 25th. I still envy that dude's Farrah Fawcett tresses that reached past his shoulders.

Eventually, I was offered a He.ineken. I've had it before and did not appreciate the watery taste. Who da hayle likes that stuff? Dude was insistent, but I politely declined. Then, he offered St. Pauli Girl. My mind starts working and asks where is the soda? I don't have to get drunk because it's a party. But that inner social butterfly in the cocoon eeks out, "Why the hell not?" It's Chrimmah, and I'm with some friendly Asians that seem to mostly be from Laos (that's what NOPI thinks). That one bottle was delicious and hit the spot. Somewhat sweet but definitely has a bite to it. That says a lot for a non-beer drinker to be all excited about it. I now have a new beer to imbibe in! That and Icehouse.

Someone insisted on offering weed, but that's not my style at all. Besides, I've smelled weed in the past.... That was some special Rastafarian superstar marijuana that I'd imagine a group of Rastas might share in the spirit of Kwanzaa because they don't celebrate no fake Christmas holiday. I politely declined and assured my new friend, "I need to keep my job on Wednesday." Come to find out, this dude owns a body shop. No random testing for him, and that's good for him.

But everyone and everything was so cool. Even the little kids were adorable and running between the kids' room and the living room. It really was all love, and I think I'd hang with them again.

12 AM comes while Birthday Boy is grilling, and we all wish him a Happy 30th Birthday. Then we wish each other a Merry Christmas. No gift exchange. No carols. But I did assure Birthday Boy that 30 will be the best year yet. It will make you forget how great you thought 25 or 20 was.


Unless they break out the shredded papaya.

According to templeofthai.com, "Green papaya has a very mild, almost bland, taste, but it is the medium through which robust flavor ingredients take body and form. It picks up the hot, sour, sweet and salty flavors, giving them a unique crisp and chewy texture unlike that of any other vegetable. When made into salad, you wouldn't know that it was mild and timid; you remember it only as bold and spicy." How fine and dandy. Even more culinary delights. Now, the fried rice dish with the pork, fresh herbs and maybe more papaya was off the chain!!! Will I ever find that in a Chinese restaurant? Probably not.

But the papaya salad... After mixing the shreds will all kinds of seasonings using a mortar and pestle...

...

...

It smelled like a menstrual cycle. Very. Heavy. Cycle. Where the kids better fend for themselves because Mama can't take these cramps and needs to just lay in bed with a heating pad waiting for the drugs to take effect. I can't make this stuff up. I actually believed it was me for a moment, but then I had to consider why am I just smelling this right now. I tried to be polite and eat the papaya salad on my plate because I could taste the boldness and spiciness. Then, I took a second bite, and all of the papaya salad returned to the plate before making it to the best spot for it: the trash. I'm all for diversity and new experiences, but I never would've imagined all five of my senses being flooded by such a "unique blend of flavors".