Tomfoolery of the feminine kind

Illness and injury have beaten me down all week long. To be more graphic and honest, I experienced one of the worst menstrual cycles I have had in years on top of a recurring back injury. I've been applying heat and ice packs at the same time. Plus, I scavenged my medicine cabinet for any muscle relaxers from previous injuries. God was good to me when I found some expired pills that I had to take, and they proved heavenly. My body probably cannot completely figure out which way is up with all these treatments.

At one point, nausea, lightheadness, and dizziness hit me all at one sad time during the workday. My body temperature started to rise, too. The first aid cabinet upstairs only had bandages, ointments, and alcohol swabs but no thermometers or other tools to help me out. So, to save myself from further injury aggravation that could make me cuss, I get on the elevator to go back to my area one floor below, and that's when the fun really began.

The doors closed, and I couldn't look at myself in the brassy doors. I just laid my head on the wall for what seemed like an eternity in a moving sauna greased with molasses. I swear my body was nearly on fire by the time the doors opened. Two of my male colleagues just stared at me as I exited the elevator fanning myself with my hand and rushing to the ladies' room. The cold water couldn't come out of the faucet fast enough as I started splashing my face with liquid lusciousness. The wet spots on my blouse never mattered one bit as my body thankfully started cooling down. I had to wet some paper towels to take with me because I couldn't risk spontaneous combustion before I returned to me desk.




When I barely made it back to my desk without fainting, my inner slacker immediately thought, "What da hayle? I gotta get outta here! I'm sick!" Then, another cool coworker saw me and asked if I was okay.

I'm positive I had a pathetic look on my pale face as I replied, "Noooo. I'm super hot for no good damn reason."

She quickly replies, "Maybe you're having a private summer."

Then, my face had to read, "Bulls--t". Private summer as in menopausal hot flash? No. Way. I quietly advised, "That can't be right. I'm on my cycle right now having the worst cramps ever. Hot flashes are only for old ladies that forgot who Aunt Flo is."

My co-worker, who is a couple of years under me but pretty mature, coolly and easily schools me that hot flashes can happen during a cycle for non-menopausal women. What the hell? That's news to me. Mama never talked to me about that, and I don't recall that being a subject during high school health class or even a daytime talk show. Ever. This is some hogwash joke my co-worker's trying to play on me. But a few minute later, a second co-worker tells me the same exact madness about hot flashes during a cycle.

This newsflash just shattered my little world. The situation felt bad enough when I realized one of life's secrets had just finally been revealed to me. My perspective worsened when I recognized that my maturing early thirties body had betrayed me once again. I already deal with acne breakouts from time to time. Hot flashes, too? Hot flashes. For me? For real? Damn.

Thankfully, I survived my internal betrayal and the urges to take the rest of the day off. But can I trust my body again after this? Are there more jokes and trickery for me to endure? Well, if there are more shenanigans ahead, I'll make the wise choice to endure them since this body is the only one God blessed me with, kinks and all. I'll just be sure to keep sipping ice water.

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*

Another Soul Train mystery solved!

Everyone should have memories of watching Soul Train at some point during their childhood. You loved different dancers like "The Asian Lady" featuring Her Hair. The Costume Guy might have freaked you out with some of his combinations, but he stayed on the main stage with "Ski" that was always walking around the stage in his shades or just posing in his suits, pretty hair, and light skin. I finally figured out that "Ski" needed attention. A LOT of attention.

Being the Greek Life lover that I am, I always wondered if there were any Black Greeks who ever showed up on the hippest trip in America and represented on syndicated television. I wouldn't expect stepping and strolling on Soul Train because that would just be ridiculous. Just wearing some 'nalia or throwing up a sign.

I learned the truth this past weekend. There WAS a Black Greek reppin' on Soul Train! Some of you might remember the chocolate-complected dude with the short jheri curl; he was known for wearing some fringed outfits. Maybe he was a clothing designer seeking his destiny just like a bunch of the dancers were seeking their fame in singing or acting. (NOTE: There were success stories like Rosie Perez whose rear you'll see for the first 1.5 seconds of the second video, Jody Watley, Jermaine Stewart, and more that are probably ahead of my time.)

Shock does not adequately describe what I found on either of these short videos. Seeing some of the fashions on Soul Train in the '70s and '80s is a stone gas, honey. Reppin' your organzation... priceless.

It's 1908 in Ponce de Leon, FL....

Principal's outing of gay student roils Fla. town

updated 5:57 a.m. PT, Thurs., Aug. 21, 2008

PONCE DE LEON, Fla. - When a high school senior told her principal that students were taunting her for being a lesbian, he told her homosexuality is wrong, outed her to her parents and ordered her to stay away from children.

He suspended some of her friends who expressed their outrage by wearing gay pride T-shirts and buttons at Ponce de Leon High School, according to court records. And he asked dozens of students whether they were gay or associated with gay students.

The American Civil Liberties Union successfully sued the district on behalf of a girl who protested against Principal David Davis, and a federal judge reprimanded Davis for conducting a "witch hunt" against gays. Davis was demoted, and school employees must now go through sensitivity training.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26316235/

My real friends that really know me would know that this pisses me off. I've always been straight, but I'm also a supporter of my gay friends. If one of my dear cousins would have come out to me before he died, I would have embraced him exactly as he was, even if I would've been the only family member to support him. Honestly, one of the things I regret not doing in college is joining a campus group called "Straight but not Narrow", but I didn't know how supportive I was of my gay friends at that time. Honestly, I wholeheartedly believe that gay people are born that way. If I encounter a person that has a different opinion of homosexuality, we can express our opposing POVs, agree to disagree, and move on with our lives. It's not like the outcome of our discussion will instantly change the sexual orientation of all gay and bi-sexual people at that moment - that if that's what they wanted anyway.

So, in 2008, someone being gay should no longer be such a big deal considering that gay marriage is legal in two states. Hell, it even impresses me how much some Americans love El.len DeGen.eres regardless of the fact that she's an out lesbian. Even when I taught 9th grade a few years ago, I was impressed that most of the kids who knew they had gay classmates did not seem to be affected by the sight of rainbow colored jewelry. These kids were not perfect, but they represented the idea of judging based on character pretty well.

But the above article reeks of a backwoods town that thinks it's 1908 instead of 2008 and probably has no interest in progressing with the rest of America. It's as if the young student watched encouraging and insightful daytime talkshows like "The Ty.ra B.anks Show" and listened to the lessons on compassion, acceptance, and diversity. This generation of kids are taught that bullying is punishable and should not be tolerated. Instead of internalizing the issues and just accepting the taunts as a regular part of childhood, these young people are supposed to find a trusted adult (teacher, counselor, or administrator) in their lives to help them. This poor student really trusted their principal to help them out because that is what s/he has learned is the right thing to do.

Instead, this trusting child has to be bullied and subjected to tomfoolery perpetuated by an adult that has Masters and/or Doctoral degrees that probably includes "Leadership". Maybe "Decision Making" classes and assessments should become a part of becoming an administrator. The saddest part is that the former principal probably thought he was really doing a good thing in the interest of the children and the community.

This is just some hot mess in 2008. So the moral of the story is we can possibly elect America's first black president in 2008, but we cannot accept the idea of young people who know that they are gay. *sighhhhhhhh*

It's not a "murse" damn it.

Thank God for the weekend. Honestly, it's the beginning of my real life outside of the weekly grind.

Today, I sat outside of a local coffee franchise that's not so ubiquitous like another place we all know. Just sitting at a table outside enjoying the weather and a dose of whipped cream floating above espresso, steamed milk, and three packets of Sp.lenda. While other latte loving ladies and gentleman enjoy their drinks and company, my eyes land on a guy on the sidewalk leaving the same franchise with a medium white paper cup full of his own customized caffeine goodness in one hand. The other hand holds a white plastic bag with office supplies from a nearby chain store that's not one of the large stores you can't live without. I think to myself, "Maybe he's got opened eyes like me that actually go against the grain of what's allegedly popular. He might not fall for the hype. Good for him!" Well, the white earbuds probably feeding Coldplay into his spirit from his pervasive i_Pod kinda killed that theory. Then again, what if he was jamming to "Scenario" by A Tribe Called Quest or even some classic Masta P???



I continued to enjoy and savor my own caffeine heaven in a paper cup while watching guy cross the busy four lane street. The only guy walking in this area right outside of a major university went calmly on his way, and he probably walked off to a residence to have enough paper for printing a huge assignment. That left me truly impressed that there were other people in Atlanta like me that didn't have to have a car for every single errand or event in their life. Maybe walking dude and I will save the planet together by inspiring our friends, loved ones, and even sworn enemies who cannot help admiring our commitment to think outside the bleak box of "the norm".

Unfortunately, one thing about dude slowly began to "grind my gears" (I love that line). My not-so-stuck in the matrix dude had a plastic shopping bag. Why was he just like my husband and probably other countless men that do not make effective use of a reusable shopping bag? They're honestly easier to carry since you can put it over your shoulder like a computer bag, a messenger bag, or... a shoulder bag. Why carry one, two, or even six merchandise-filled plastic bags with those flimsy handles that can hurt your fingers after about sixty seconds when you can put several items in one bag? I imagine that carrying those bags that can only hold a few cans or boxes at one time really suck if you are on foot.

The benefits make complete sense and far outweigh the cons to me as a woman, but it's almost like a crime against manhood to ask a man to think about the environment and not take the plastic bags from the stores. Men must think that if they carry their groceries, power tools, deodorant, or sneakers in reusable bags, then they've just pimp-slapped their masculinity out of their bodies to lay on the asphalt like a used-up crumpled street walker with baggy eyes and a few gray hairs. The bags come in so many varieties of looks and colors and prices, so it's not like the bags can be mistaken for a lady's handbag just because it's on the shoulder. So it's not a "murse" damn it but just a shopping bag. Seriously. It grind my gears that men can be so consumed with what they perceive to be an attack on their image when it's not that serious.

As a black woman with reusable bags, I always feel like I'm truly in the minority because I try to use my bags all the time. I have seen one other black woman use the reusable shopping bags in my area, and that makes me proud. However, I'm quite likely in the minority for being worried about one guy with a plastic bag. I'm confident there are a lot of men that refuse to embrace the reusable bags. That's beyond disappointing for me, but if a great number of people learned to embrace all of these social networks on the 'net, then maybe there's hope for coffee-sipping guys to buy and use reusable shopping bags. My fingers are crossed.

Barefoot in the summer at CAU

Just 15 years ago, I was in the SCOPE/FTMS Summer program for 6 weeks on the campus of Clark Atlanta University. I honestly had hopes of being an 8th Grade Algebra teacher, so it made sense to try to become a Future Teacher of Math and Science. Thank God I found out that I couldn't handle math and science, but it was a fun summer. Thank God that I learned a lot about the good and the bad of Greek life before going to college. This experience lead me to one definite decision based on an idea that all Greeks should live by.

Those 6 weeks were my first time away from home...even though my family was a 25 minute ride down the interstate. Living in the dorms that college students live in and sneak around in. Eating that campus dining hall food -- I mean not having a lot of tasty choices in what to eat because a lot of the food was..... Meeting other students from southern GA and other East and West Coast states across the country. Learning a lot about how crazy life can be because young people in the midst of their formative years can be straight up fools. But I did make some friends there that were just regular girls like me. Not popular, not complete nerds, but just making it through puberty.

One of the highlights was being mentored by some of the college students. There were 2 guys and 2 girls. One guy and girl were just regular students who taught us valuable lessons. To this day, I can't remember the guy's name, but I remember him telling a small group of us in a casual convo, "If y'all [the couple] have to hit on one another, then y'all ain't supposed to be together." If a man or woman has to get their point across with fists instead of conversation, then they shouldn't be together. That simple idea has never left me, and I still pass that on to others.

The other guy and girl were members of two of the Divine Nine fraternities and sororities. I don't recall the guys name, but he was a member of Alpha Phi Alpha. Looking back, he fit the stereotype of an Alpha very well: scholarly, arrogant, and fun to be around. He expected a lot of all of his mentees, and we lived up to those expectations for the most part. I'd bet money that several of those young men in our program were influenced to become Alphas. The female mentor was a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha. She completely fit the AKA stereotype: attractive, full of arrogant "pretty girl" attitude, excelling. She had a lot of expectations of us as well, and most of us lived up to her standards.

The Greek mentors decided to teach the 40+ students how to step. After attending classes and being enlightened to what the world held beyond our middle class teenaged lives during the day, the students were taken to on campus locations to learn stepping. Our mentor happened to have her chapter soror and Step Mistress on campus. She worked with us very hard and never made us feel bad about what were doing. They also "bonded" the 20 - 30 young ladies by making us "duck walk" from our dorm to the step practice location and back for the return. They even modified one of the pledge songs so we can sing together about striving to be number one. I'm sure that part of this experience was the first exposure to greekdom for some of the girls just like it was for me. The stepping was fun and made me want to have the fun side of greekdom, but our mentor told us about the community service, etc. so we knew it wasn't just singing and stepping.

But one night while we had part of our step practice in front of the dorm, another pivotal event happened. Our mentor, the attractive AKA, had all of us doing one of the first parts of the step routine. Girls from the Upward Bound program were looking out of their windows and making suggestions as to what we should do. Our mentor ignored the comments and kept us focused. She reminded us that all kinds of things will be shouted during a step show, and you have to remain focused to put on a good show.

The girls from Upward Bound were distracting, but then another college-aged woman came outside through the front door of the dorm. She wore a t-shirt, shorts, a head wrap, and no shoes. This young lady said she wanted to show us something. This young lady proceeded to step in front of us for 10 seconds. With no shoes. HARD. The young girls in the windows cheered wildly for the young lady who must've been an Upward Bound mentor. As she left, our FTMS mentor had the most unamused look on her face as she slowly clapped and encouraged us mentees to clap for her so we can get back to practice.

That incident was my first introduction to that sorority. That first introduction lead to my first impression: I don't want to be one of those sorority girls. Whatever the 1993 equivalent of "ghetto" was, that's what that young lady lead me to believe about her sorority. She broke a cardinal rule of Greekdom: always represent yourself to the utmost at all times because you never know who will meet you and therefore meet your organization for the first time. She was so busted that I knew I couldn't consider an org that would include a woman that steps hard on concrete inthe middle of the night. Therefore, I barely considered that sorority for even a split second when I started my long journey to greekdom.

Michelle Obama on "The View"

The View" is normally not on my radar because I'm still irked by the way Baba Wawa and that other wench Jo.y mistreated Mo'nique when she was guest hosting. Even had the nerve to make Mo'nique out to be disgusting and uncivilized because she opts not to shave her legs. Makes no damn sense for a show that is supposed to halfway bond and empower women would have two women gang up on one woman.

Today however, the wife of the 2008 presumptive Democratic presidential nominee, Mrs. Michelle Obama, was a guest co-host on "The View". Wonderful exposure and great opportunity for people to see her on a casual level and get to know her as a woman. The only reason I even know about this opportunity is because I heard about the appearance today on "The Mich.a.el Ba.is.den Radio Show", and they were disccussing Who.opi Goldb.erg's somewhat controbersial comments.

Simply, Who.opi comments that Mrs. Obama presents a positive image for black women instead of the common image with "no teeth" and can't make a complete coherent sentence to save their lives. But especially for dark-skinned black women. Whoopi thanked Michelle for being a positive representation.

Honestly, I don't see what the fuss is about because Who.opi was speaking the truth. Yeah, Who.opi has been questionable in the past, but folks should stop tripping as if she were B.ill Cos.by telling the truth about black people. Black folks know their used to seeing us on the news looking a damn fool, giving an incoherent account of the details that requires the closed captioning to be understood, or being the accused or red-handed criminal in handcuffs. That isn't how we always are, but that's a damned familiar image. Of course, all representations of black women or dark-skinned sistas or black people aren't bad because there are some strong, eloquent, put-together sistas and brothas in the world. They exist, and we as a culture embrace them.

The difference is that mainstream media doesn't always embrace or display that image. If I didn't know any better, I'd think they'd ask a light-skinned person for the POV since they were the first person they could find. After all, the news station has to have eyewitness accounts in their news coverage. Let a "true refelction" of a black person come along, and you wouldn't even know there were light-skinned people. It's alsmost as if the media feels that articulate accounts from black people in general aren't believable. Maybe their newscast won't be so trusted and dependable if someone articulate and black is on camera.

Thank God that we are in a historical time period where someone like Michelle Obama cannot be ignored because she's supporting her husband who's running for president. She's on the biggest national stage of all during this campaign, and she gets to disprove the myth that Opra.h is the only articulate black woman with influence and charm.

But I can't leave it all roses. I'm figuring that Michelle Obama had to request a "fist bump" for her greetings because that's what the media has been calling it. That ain't no fist bump. It's a "pound". It's probably going to be nicknamed a fist bump while the Obamas are campaigning, but it'll be a a pound once our first black president is elected.

He that sho won't be named + what's more than hygenics + germulosity

I haven't blogged in a while, so here's three items at once. Why? Because I like you.

"He that sho won't be named - nasty arse" got away with the crime that he committed... I-don't-know-how-many years ago. What I know is that I saw the video way back when, and a video forensics expert saw the video, and we both saw that it was "He that sho won't be named - nasty arse". I know that money will get you a lot of things. But who knew it would get a girl to claim "That ain't me!" while 14 other people including relatives are pinpointing her as the co-star of disturbing footage in a wood-paneled rec room/den -- which was featured in BET's now defunct show "How I'm Living"???

Here's a link to a much more eloquent posting on the subject: http://mokellyreport.blogspot.com/2008/06/r-kelly-pied-piper-beats-pedophile-rap.html.

I posted the below NOTE on Facebook on Friday, and it's just so relevant to the above hot mess. If you're single, maybe you should consider keeping something as a hygienic practice only so you won't be in a courtroom vehemently insisting, "That ain't me!"

Gargling: It's more than a hygenic practice.

Friday, June 13, 2008 at 1:27pm
I learned a new euphemism from one of my homegirls today. In her note, a guy mentions that he's dealt with a group of women who "gargled" a lot when they were dating. I got the visual and was disgusted at the prospect.

But then again, I'm married. I keep my man happy, and he keeps me happy. We are a happily married couple with 4 months under the belt. So, "gargling" isn't so disgusting in that capacity. Not that we'll discuss if it's happened or not, but "gargling" is acceptable in a married capacity. Maybe even a long-term relationship that is obviously starting to lean towards marriage because y'all have been together for years.

Single? I know that being single SUCKS. That's why single ladies should SUCK. And that's it. Try to do more than that too early, and I'll bet you'll be sucking down a pitcher of margaritas still wondering why he doesn't call anymore. Because you allowed your "jumpoff" nametag to appear.

So say it with me. "It SUCKS to be single. That's why you only SUCK."

http://www.facebook.com/note.php?note_id=16395913619&id=503561206&index=0

Lastly, I watched "Life in the Fab Lane," Kimora Lee Simmons' show. It's not a regular thing for me to watch, but her homecoming to St. Louis enlightened and entertained me. A classic case of "local girl does GREAT". Her youngest is adorable and has a mind and a mouth that amaze me because it's as if she's been here before.

Kimmora's life is pretty fabulous, and I can't hate. Just one thing got me. She's in her suite at The Four seasons calling up her best friend from childhood. Fabulous how she can still stay down with someone that knew her way back when. Kimmora doesn't let her fingers do the walking. She uses the tines of a fork to push each number on that push button phone. While she's talking, she takes some bites of food. My memory is not top-notch, but I can remember all kinds of things when it comes to germs since I'm a "germ freak" as my mama says. Kimmora did not put that fork down. She ate with a fork that touched a phone that God knows how many people have dialed on. She's left fabulosity for me and is now forever known for her "germulosity".

I know it's The Four Seasons. I also know a saw a local news report about a general practice where hotels have housekeeping clean out glasses by wiping with glass cleaner and towels. Think about how many times you've heard or seen a rolling cart full of glasses just clinking down the hotel hallway. Can't even recall one. Damn, Kimmora. Just damn. Not to mention eww.

I can't call it for sure, but I'm pretty sure I was stricken with the flu this past weekend. It's currently Wednesday, and I'm still sniffling and blowing my nose. IN JUNE.

I called out work on Monday but came back on Tuesday ready for war. I had my mini space heater and three shirts including a heavy Polo sweatshirt. I've been slurping on a lot of soup and hot tea just trying to feel better and avoid further sickness.

All of our grandmamas know why I'm sick like this. IN JUNE. It's the change of season and running in and out of the A/C and this ungodly summer heat. That's why I'm sleeping with a heater at my house at night. It's set to low so hubby doesn't think I'm entirely crazy.

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".