Take a Sip

Happy New Year!

2010-01-04T16:28:00.003-05:00

Happy New Year y'alls. What's the absolute last day of January that you can say that anyway?

Yea I took another hiatus. I was off work and battling a cold for pretty much my entire two-and-a-half week vacay. But this one was way shorter than the rest right?!? But enough excuses and on to the post!

I’m so lazy y’all. I had started this great post about the 2009 Random Negroes and it was going to be like ‘rate your favorite’ Random Negro type thing. So didn’t happen. BUT since I believe in better late than never here are the beginnings of what I was going to post.

Random Negro Wrapup. I wanted to do one of these last year, but y’all know I take irregularly scheduled hiatuses.

Anyway, take a stroll down memory lane with me as I recap some of 2009’s most memorable Random Negros.

NFL. We started off the year right, or so I thought. Actually it was all kinds of wrong. It was New Years Eve. He had to escort me from the club’s drunk tank. Somehow I recovered from that and we kept in touch for a while. But when he came back to DC (He lived in NY at the time) for Inauguration festivities things we less than stellar. Then to make things worse he invited me up to NY in April for his birthday weekend, but then uninvited me on the sly, by not giving me the details. Actually I’m still waiting for the call to let me know about the birthday plans. Maybe I should get my local congressman to do something about that USPS service. But judging by the photos on Facebook my invite must have accidentally-on-purposely gone to his ex-gf.

The Bison. Technically he fizzled out before 2009 started, but he contacted me on Facebook in early January, just to see how I was doing. I was very short in my response and didn’t inquire about him, so that was the last I “officially” heard from him. Even though he was gone I couldn’t escape him. Yahoo Personals matched me up with him and He showed up at my old church with his new girlfriend. Talk about awkward.

Fatigues. He was a “gem” I found on BlackPeopleMeet.com. I should have known better than to go out with him when the first time he called me he was pretending to be a radio disc jockey telling me I had won a date with him. Anyway. Fatigues was in the military, Army or Air Force. I can’t really remember and don’t really want to for that matter. Anyway things pretty much ended before they started. We didn’t even make it through an entire date. I ended up walking off on him once we got to the lounge we were going to after he announced that he was sick of opening the car door for me.

Curry Chicken. He actually made it to the BF stage. I was excited too. He would have lasted longer if he hadn’t been all scarred and paranoid that I would cheat on him after I complained that we didn’t get to spend enough time together. But hindsight being 20-20 things worked out for the best. If his emotional baggage wasn’t enough (yeah like I’m one to talk) he also came with a lot of family baggage. He lived with his sister and family (husband and two kids). Counting his mama, who was always just a Bolt/Chinatown/Vamoose bus ride away I was constantly on the backburner.

Anyway, those are just a few off top. Let me know who your favorites were. The Random Negroes have been few and far between. (Thank you Jesus!) Not much new going on with me. Still trying to grow hair and lose weight.

Anyway, here’s to hoping that your Twenty-Ten is grand!

Random Negro Stories File: C-O-N-spiracy

2009-12-19T00:32:00.001-05:00

You ever you talk to someone you haven’t talked to in a while and you think to yourself, man I’m glad things worked out the way they did?

I JUST had one of those moments, with a Random Negro. (Were you really expecting it to be anyone else?)

Let’s call him Conspiracy Theory. We met sometime around last winter, maybe around February or so. We had one date. I remember we met up somewhere downtown DC and he was late as hell. I chewed him out about it and he was like we don’t have to do this but I really want to because you’re cute.

I melted. I should have reactivated the icebox where my heart used to be.

He spent most of the time talking about his ex and that 2012 doomsday/conspiracy theory stuff. At the time I’d never heard of it and I just thought he was cuckoo for cocoa puffs. I’m still not buying it. Maybe I’ll ask my local congressman to start a task force to edumacate me.

Anyway I’m taking entirely too long to get to the point. He contacted me on yahoo messenger, asked how I’ve been, yada yada yada. I told him I moved to Baltimore and am in a relationship now. He congratulated me and then told me that love wasn’t for him.

I asked why and he said that he just got played recently and ended up in the hospital. Apparently he was seeing this girl and her baby daddy came after him with a pipe. He retaliated with a machete and was actually bragging about getting off scott-free.

This would be the point where I said a silent “thank the Lord” for things having worked out the way they did.

Looking back I remember being disappointed that we never had a second date. When we met I was in the middle of transitioning and after our date I cut my hair off in the spring. I told him about it and sent him a pic and never heard from him after that. Well that’s not entirely true, he did tell me that I should have known what I was doing when I decided to chop all my hair off. Then I didn’t hear from him again.

Until now. He wrapped up the convo telling me to be careful dealing with Baltimore dudes and to—get this—“live long and prosper.” Who says that?

Take ‘Em Back Tuesday: Find My Family

2009-12-08T11:13:00.001-05:00

Last night I got sucked in to watching ABC’s Find My Family, because some damn Carrie Underwood Fox All-Star Holiday Special bumped Lie to Me off the line up. Ugh I need to get my local Congressman to sanction Fox for it’s poor scheduling decisions.

Anyway, Find My Family chronicles the reuniting of adopted children with their birth families. Now I'm not adopted, but I do have three “new” siblings I discovered a few years ago. The show got me to thinking about how I found my family, or should I say how my family found me.

Oddly enough the story starts out much like a Random Negro tale would—with a message on Myspace. I'm not sure if I ever told you guys this story, but it's interesting and is worth re-telling if I have.

So anyway, around July/August of 2007 I got a note from a dude commenting on my smile or something. We exchanged messages for about a week, even communicated by instant message, but never got to the phone call stage.

During that same time period I got a Myspace message from an older woman stating that I should contact her because she knew my mother and thought that we were related. I was confused as hell but wrote her back anyway. Turned out that she was my sister from my biodad. Now, let me be clear here: I've had zero contact with my bio dad post any age that I could actually remember having a biodad. All of this was a complete shock. She told me I had two other sisters as well—one older than her (who she shares the same mother with) and one younger than me (who has a different mom).

We (myself and the two older ones living in the area) agreed to meet up at a restaurant and while there they dropped a bomb on me. The dude that contacted me just a few days before they wrote me is their BROTHER. Yes, they used him as bait to be sure that I was checking my Myspace account. My mouth literally dropped open. I couldn’t believe it. I felt weird after that thinking about the convos that we had. I don't recall them being sexual or anything but they were definitely flirty. Ewww flirting with my half-sisters' brother. I eventually ended up meeting him at a family gathering they invited me to and it was just weird. They didn't have to trick me like that. That was foul.

New Hairs

2009-12-07T16:07:00.003-05:00

“Every week you’ve got new hair.”

That's what my supervisor says to me today from across the room—just before a meeting starts. Yea. I just smiled and said yep.

I don't care about “hair story time lines” so I'll go from rocking my natural hair in a twist out, to slapping on my lace front in 1.2 days flat. LOL. I should do a roller set on my hair tonight so that can be a whole 'nother look for her.

My hair is more of an accessory than anything else and I love to change it up when the mood strikes me. Why can’t they understand that? I think I'm going to ask my local congressman to fund a cultural hair diversity grant program in the workplace. I'm doing my part to encourage workplace diversity awareness. Oooh I wonder if I could get a weave reimbursement. Things that make you go hmmm....

On another “new hair” topic, I've recently discovered that I have not one but two chin hairs. Where in the ham sandwich did these suckers come from and why don't they go back? We don't want or need you here.

They aren't visible until you get right up on me, but I'm not pleased that they are there. When I discovered them I tried taking pics but they wouldn't come out clear. My BF told me I was the weirdest person he knows for trying to capture my chin hair's debut on film.

I thought about “gelling” them back so at least they wouldn't stick out. LOL. I'm scared to pluck or wax them because I don't want more of their friends to join them when they decide to grow back and turn me into some kind of bearded lady. No thanks. I don't know what to do. So for now they are staying right where they are.

Random Negro Stories File: Down For the Cause

2009-12-04T16:03:00.000-05:00

On my way back to the office from an impromptu trip to Whole Foods, a guy approached me.

His opening line: The sun is shining now that I see your face.

Huh. Oh did I mention that it’s overcast out? Right. So you know I gave him the side eye.

Now he wasn’t trying to holla or anything but I should have seen it coming especially since he walked right up on this man that was walking a few steps ahead of me. At first I thought he knew him because he had his hand out ready to shake the guys hand and said “My man…”The guy ducked and dodged him and I tried to do the same but he continued to walk down the street with me.

He was in plain clothes so I bet he was one of those Lyndon LaRouche people. Man they are slick and will roll up on you at any time. I remember I was in college and one of them chased me down hill to a McDonalds trying to get me to listen to whatever it is he had to say. I need to get my local Congressman to draft a guidebook for overly enthusiastic policy advocates, because seriously they need to respect people’s personal space. There is no reason that I should have to run from these people.

Anyway he’s all talking about how we need to become friends, but all I can think is I don’t feel like listening to your spiel about whatever it is he’s trying to get me to do/buy/believe in. I was not in the mood to be subject to any cult recruiting. I had to get back to work! LOL. He finally gave up when I kept my face straight and kept walking away.

It's been a long time...I shouldn'ta left you...

2009-12-01T13:12:00.004-05:00

Oh my word, this here blogger thingy says I haven’t been on here since May 11, 2009. My how time flies. If any of you that have been reading this blog are still around, here’s what I’ve been up to (in no particular order):

1. The Boy and I broke up, shortly after that last blog. I complained about us not spending enough quality time together after he canceled a series of dates. His paranoid ass broke up with me because he was convinced that I would cheat on him--based on the fact that the gf before me did.
2. Said breakup led to a solo summer trip to Atlanta (previously planned for The Boy to accompany moi) where I ended up meeting the current boo (online of course, y’all know I loves me some innanet menz. lol).
3. Yes, I said current boo. I’m afraid to even write about him here because this blog has cursed my relationships I swear.
4. My grandma died (RIP Dora Enid!)
5. I went on a fab girls trip to New Orleans for the Essence Music Festival (I’m still not over Maxwell’s ass coming on the stage all late and keeping me from sipping hurricanes and hand grenades on Burbon Street. BTW, public drinking really should be allowed in more cities, write your local Congressman about that!)
6. I went natural—after 10 months of transitioning. I cut off about 7 inches of relaxed hair.
7. I survived a 40+ person layoff at my company after a merger.
8. I moved to Baltimore.
9. I bough my first LaceFront wig.
10. I cooked 96 percent of a Thanksgiving dinner from scratch (I used premade pie shells for my sweet potato pie and I doctored up some boxed stuffing. But the chicken, candied yams, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, red velvet cake, and yeast rolls—ALL ME BABY!)
11. I started P90X and Fat Smash (Yes I know this is like the kabillionth time I’ve started FS, but I’m determined to make this thing work for me.)

So now that we’re all caught up, what y’all been up to?

Random Negro Stories File: The Gawker

2009-05-11T20:44:00.002-04:00

Hey Peoples! I'm falling back in love with my blog so you guys get a new story. Yay!

I thought that my booedupdom would mean the beginning of the end of the Random Negro Stories File, but I now realize that as long as I am a woman I will continue to encounter random Negroes. This is great! Well at least for the blog.

Anyway, so Friday I inadvertently ended up kicking it with my BF (who will from now on be called The Boy) and his friends. We were just supposed to kick it for a minute after I got off work and then he’d take me home before going to go hang out with the boys.

We ended up doing all this running around and by the time we got around to getting something to eat it was too late for him to take me home before heading to the movies with his friends. Sadly KFC was the healthiest fast food option and we had to bypass one because the line was off the chain. I blame Oprah and her damn free chicken coupons.

Finally, after picking up two of his friends and making a pit stop to his house and the bank, we make it to the movies. He introduces me to the friends I hadn’t met previously and we settle into our seats.

After the movie one of his friends, who we’ll call The Gawker, is all like I can’t believe The Boy has a girlfriend. He’s like I’ve got to take a picture, because no one is going to believe this. So he pulls out his camera phone and The Boy and I pose for a picture. A little later we’re walking back towards our cars and The Gawker says out of nowhere—and all out loud—“And she got body.”

I, equally as loud say, “Wooooooow. Really.” The Boy, who was at my side gets behind me and says, “Stop looking at my girlfriends ass.”

I was stunned. Like really, not only are you ogling your friend’s girlfriend but you do it out loud—not only in earshot of your boy, but his girl too. I need y’all to weigh in on this. I hope in the 25 subscribers to this here blog, some of y’all are men. Help me out here. Aren’t there Man Laws against this? If not, let’s get my local Congressman to work on this.

Random Negro Stories File: Samson Strikes Back

2009-05-06T13:19:00.003-04:00

Two blogs in two days. I know you guys are like super shocked, but I just had to come back and update you guys on the Samson situation.

So it turns out that I jumped the gun in naming my previous post “Samson’s Last Request.” I probably should have checked my myspace messages before I posted the blog, but I don’t really be on there like that anymore.

But here’s what I discovered when I logged in this morning (from Samson of course) typos and all:

It was nice talking to you yesterday. To bad we couldn't be friends but I'm glad you finally found that one man that you're on the same page with.

I wish it could have been me but I'm not a hatter just a congratulater so you're still cool peoples with me. Let me know when you have a get together so I can finally meet the man that got on the same page as you since it was impossible for me.

;o)

I guess what they say is true there is someone out here for everyone. Well I'm still single so I guess I'll run into that someone for me someday until then if you have any friends or associates that you think would click with me, then let me know. Hook a brother up.

I, for the life of me can’t understand why he’s so hell bent on meeting my BF. I talked to my trusty male adviser about it, and he said there were a few things going on:

a. he’s trying to say my expectations were too high, and he wants to stick around for when we break up
b. he’s looking for chinks in the armor, of my “perfect” dude
c. he thinks if he can keep me talking then all is not lost

Even thoough, I didn’t respond to that message I’m not sure that’s the last I’ll hear from dude. My male adviser tells me, dudes have no time limits. I wonder if my local Congressman would favor instituting a statute of limitations for these types of things. I’ll ask.

Random Negro Stories File: Samson's Last Request

2009-05-05T15:08:00.001-04:00

Hey peoples. I know it’s been a looooooong time. But the Random Negro Stories have been on hiatus because well, I’m booed up. Yes, officially. And it’s not even Winter Bun Season. Go me!

But guess what?!? I got one hot off the presses for y’all.

So yesterday I was on myspace on my phone, trying to figure out if I could update my relationships status without effing my profile up. I did not succeed, so I take a look at my inbox and see what’s been going on.

Right at the top is a message from DRUMROLL PLEASE, Samson!

Yes! I could have sworn the last time we exchanged messages on there that I told him it wasn’t a good idea to try to force a friendship. He is the most persistent man I have ever encountered in my life.

For whatever reason (shits and giggles mostly) I write him back. Nothing special. Just say that I’ve been good and ask the same of him.

Then if that weren’t enough, why do I run into this bamma on the train!

So of course he bombards me with a whole bunch more questions: do I still live in the same place, am I still working two jobs, how’s my car situation going, and of course the question of all questions—have you found that man that’s on your level yet?

I answer that last one in the affirmative and he’s all like I need to meet this dude. WTF? Dude we are not friends. Why would I even consider that proposition? How am I supposed to explain that to the BF? What the hell do you say? “Yeah honey, this dude that was trying to holla at me for the longest wants to meet you. Maybe we can do brunch?” He must think I’m a damn fool. Maybe his braids (yes he still has them joints—and he’s 30) were too tight. I’m gonna ask my local Congressman to get some laws in place to fine men over the age of 22 who are still wearing cornrows. Hell I might ask him to take it further and fine any stylists caught braiding them up.

Anyway, I just laugh him off and go wait for my bus home.

Random Negro Stories File: Return of the Bison/One Degree of Separation

2009-03-30T16:55:00.005-04:00

I’m convinced that God uses my dating life for his personal entertainment. You know what’s coming: another installment of Random Negro Stories File. Yippee!

This one features an oldie but goodie: The Bison.

I told y’all about how since the break-off dude hit me up like a month later, making small talk and I pretty much shut him down. Well since then I discovered that he reconnected with the chick he might be talking to (since I can’t definitively say that he is) just a few days after he stood me up. Facebook gives out waaaay too much information. I have to stop e-stalking people because I always find out stuff that I could have lived without knowing.

Then the other day I log into my yahoo personals account and guess who these folks have matched me up with. Yep. The Bison. So I was confused because as far as Facebook tells me (LOL), he’s still dating that girl. So why is he on Yahoo Personals? Of course you know I clicked on his profile, just to see how he advertises himself and after reading it I wish I hadn’t because it wasn’t worth him being able to see that I had viewed his profile. LOL.

So anyway, because that wouldn’t be a random enough story, guess out of all people the in the world who walked into the doors of my new church home: The Bison, and his “new chick.”

They were sitting in the front row, so I’m not sure if he saw me when I walked by to put my offering in the basket, but as I was leaving I got cornered by a church lady and almost ended up bumping into him. I haven’t seen him since the last time we hung out and I didn’t really want to have that awkward ‘oh hey how you doing’ convo with his new chick just a few feet in front of us.

Oh, and tell me why in the course of writing this post did I discover (on Facebook of course, didn't I just tell myself to stop!) that a new guy I’m quasi dating is friends with The Lube Thief. (Sidebar: The Lube Thief also has a profile up on BlackPeopleMeet.com. I’m starting to hate the Internet.) Like they go back to elementary school. I finally meet a guy in person (at a club) and then my Internet transgressions still catch up with me. Why me? I wonder how close they are and whether I’d have to reveal that I did the hokey pokey with his friend. I need my local Congressman to write some laws on this. HELP!

A Plea for Help, From Me to You.

2009-03-25T12:54:00.002-04:00

Hello my good readers. I was talking to a good friend the other day about why he had to break up with his girl, and it prompted me to write the following open letter to the women who are making my dating life hard. Yea I know you teach people how to treat you and all that jazz, but my life would be so much easier if I didn't have to undo all the bad habits you've instilled in your former beaus with your actions.

Dear Bad Women Daters:

Let me open this letter with a spirit of thanks. Thank you for being a bad girl friend, thus making your ex available for me to date. However I must say that you did quite a number on him because I’m sure had he not dated you prior to me, I wouldn’t have to encounter the foolishness that makes my Random Negro Stories File possible. Well maybe I should thank you for that too. It does make for good blogging. But we are getting off track here.

On to the three things I'd like you to stop doing ASAP:

I would like you to stop not acting like a lady. Let your guy open doors for you and help you with your coat. Maybe then your ex wouldn’t have told me “this sh*t is getting old” when I sat in the car and waited for him to come around and open my door. (Needless to say that date ended before it really started.) As Uncle Steve says, “Chivalry is not dead, it’s just not required anymore.” Maybe I can get my local Congressman to slip some language into a bill to mandate chivalry again. I'd appreciate it.

I would like you to stop making first date plans. I need me a man with a plan. And you bad women daters have made it way too easy for these dudes to not come up with anything to do. I have great ideas for dates. I’m always emailing myself links for things and take note of the stuff I hear other couples doing, but I want someone who’s going to come up with something for us to do. For a first date (and let me emphasize first date here) all I want to have to do is show up, look cute, and engage you with my conversation. There’ll be plenty of time later for me to come up with things for us to do (outside of the bedroom).

Which brings me to my last point:

I would like you to stop sitting on your lazy ass talking about all you want to do is lay up in the house and f*ck. I am a social being, and while I enjoy the occasional “Let’s make it a blockbuster night” or the “Let’s cuddle to the sound of the rain against my window pane” moments, I want my dating experience to be about way more than that. I actually want to get out of the house. I want to go to movies, museums, happy hours, live band nights, and miniature golfing, and to amusement parks! I want to have picnics in the park and go to wine tastings, and gush at the cherry blossoms. Stop letting these men get out of practice!

I promise to do my part to leave the world with better men so you should do yours.

Thanks in advance for your time and consideration,

CocaColaCutie

Random Negro Stories File: Mr. Telephone Man

2009-03-18T17:05:00.001-04:00

Hey peoples. I know it’s been a long time, but I figured I’d dust off the old blog, to share another one of my Random Negro Stories.

Last night I was home minding my own business when my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, but local, so I figured it was someone I’d recently given my number to and I answered.

The person asked for me by name but because I had no idea who it was I asked what his name was. The name doesn’t sound familiar, but to protect the “innocent” well call him Mr. Telephone Man. In an effort to jog my memory, the dude says, “I met you on the chat line.”

RECORD SCRATCH.

Now I know I use a lot of unconventional methods to meet men, but a chat line is not one of them. I ask Mr. Telephone Man for the number to this “chat line” and proceed to google it. My search yields me this result.

Here’s an excerpt for what the chat line promises:

Nightline chat line is the hottest female adult and male adult telephone personals dating service in Baltimore connecting hundreds of local women and local men everyday. Whether you are looking for long-term relationships in Baltimore, casual dates in Baltimore, erotic encounters in Baltimore, fantasies in Baltimore, or couples and swingers in your local Baltimore area Nightline has it all. Nightline Baltimore members ranging from various ages, interests, lifestyles, backgrounds, and personalities.

According to the site, finding the person you want is “fast and easy.”

WHAT IN THE HE SAY SHE SAY?

I don’t even live in Baltimore! Granted it’s not that far from the part of Silver Spring that I live in, but I’m vehicularly challenged so there’s absolutely positively no reason for me be trying to solicit B-more booty.

According to the site here’s how the chat line works:

When you call Nightline we will set you up with your own free voice mailbox that lets you receive messages from other members. You can also record your own audio greeting for others members to listen. Afterwards, spend some time browsing the Baltimore chat network and check out member profiles in five distinct communities. Nightline also has the hottest live chat room where members talk and discuss anything they like.

So Mr. Telephone Man continues to insist that he spoke with me earlier in the day (via this live chat) and that I gave him my number. I continue to insist that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Dude starts recounting “my” description of myself, but when he says light skin, he’s obviously all kinds of off. (CocaColaCutie is not only a reference to my coke bottle shape—watch out now—but also to my coca cola complexion.)

With all my badgering about where this dude came up with my number from, he gets scared off and says he’ll “call me right back.” He doesn’t, so I looked up his number in the White pages, but it turns out to be a mobile number. I called it back today (from the work phone) to see if I could get any more details from a voicemail greeting or something. But it was a generic one.

At first I started to think Nephew Tommy (from the Steve Harvey Morning Show) was playing on my phone, but dude hung up without revealing as much, so I had to rule that out. So now I’m like who in the eff is impersonating me on a dating/erotic services chatline.

Friends I’ve told this story to asked if there was a crazy ex-bf or someone else that could have put dude up to this. I haven’t had a bf in a minute so I’m left only to think that it’s one of the random negroes in my life that may or may not have warranted a mention on this blog. WTF. Why do these things only happen to me? I wonder if I can get my local Congressman to launch an investigation into this.

Random Negro Stories File: No Paparazzi

2009-02-09T10:21:00.000-05:00

Hey peoples! I'm back with yet another Random Negro Story. (When will these things end?) So Saturday night I went to this lounge to celebrate a friend's birthday. It was pretty cool. The party was in the VIP section so my friend and I kicked it up there drank a little, danced a lot and were having a really good time. All the guys there for the birthday party came with their gfs/wifeys so I went into the crowd in search of some unattached (or seemingly so) men and dragged my girl along with me.

So we're on the dance floor and I strike up a convo with this guy and start dancing with him when all of a sudden I see a flash. So I look around for the "club photographer" but he or she is not in the vicinity, but there is this guy, who we'll call The Cameraman, with a regular ass digital camera pointed in my direction. So I stop dancing with the guy for a moment and ask The Cameraman if he just took my picture. He said yes and shows me the picture. Thankfully I had turned my head and all he got was my hair.

I don't understand people who take random pictures of people at the club. I mean it would have been one thing if he talked to me or danced with me before trying to take my picture. But to just point and shoot without even having acknowledged my presence--that's crazy. And even after he showed me the picture he didn't attempt to strike up any conversation. He just wanted my picture. For what? I don't even want to think about it. Club photos are fine when you want to remember/realize what that guy/girl you were grinding all up on really looked like after the aaaa...aaa...aa....aaa....aaaaacohol--as Jamie would say has worn off.

But clearly that was not the case here. He was probably going to have my likeness plastered all over the Internet somewhere. Sure he probably thought I was attractive, but I am not a public figure or celebrity. (Although I'm on my way! Ya girl was on MSNBC last week doing the pundit thing about the Madoff ponzi scheme! Still can't find the clip though *sad face*) You don't get to just take pictures of me without my consent or at the very least my awareness. (Dang, at least give me a chance to flash my million dollar smile) There must be some rules on this. I need to check with my local Congressman about that.

But back to the story. I went back to dancing with other guy, and I look up and The Cameraman is again trying to take my picture. So I put my hand up to block my face. So I turn to the guy I was dancing and I'm like why is he trying to take my picture? He says to me, "That's what you call a fan." And I'm all like but I'm dancing with you. And he says well he likes what he sees and I can't say that I blame him. Way to sneak a compliment in. I did end up giving that guy my number and he sent me a text at 3 a.m. asking where I live. I didn't get the text until Sunday morning, but it matters not anyway. I'm done with the random hookups. 2009 is a new year! Yay me!

In other news, No Love in '08, sent me a text the other day so I ask him how his wedding plans are going and he said "They're not yet. she has some issues to work on before that happens." A minute later he adds "Minor adjustments." I write back "minor adjustments?" He says "yep" and doesn't elaborate. He asks me about my love life and I say I'm dating and weighing my options. Then I ask him how he decided to take the plunge, but that question got no response.

The whole thing sounds weird to me. First, why are you texting me? We are not friends. I never wanted to just be your friend, so I don't understand this out of the blue texting. When I get engaged, the last thing I'm gonna to be doing is texting some dude it didn't work out with. For what? I'm going to be too wrapped up in my boo to be worried about catching up with that whack guy--and I'm going to be even less concerned about the state of his love life.

Second, shouldn't the "minor adjustments" have been worked out before you decided to propose? I'm pretty sure whatever it was didn't just pop up after he showed up with a ring. The only minor adjustments I want to have to make after I get engaged are cosmetic. Like how much weight do I have to lose to get into the wedding dress of my dreams type stuff.

I do wonder why he decided not to answer my question about how he decided to take the plunge. I wonder if it means that he really doesn't have an answer. Or maybe he just feels like he doesn't have to explain himself to me. The world may never know.

Weekend in Review: Pity Party for One.

2009-01-25T22:49:00.003-05:00

Okay. Okay. People don’t kill me. I know I was supposed to update you from Inauguration weekend, but I was having a pity party moment. Now that I’m up to sharing here we go:

NFL’s visit was less than stellar. Way less. Sunday night was the only time we had free to hang and I had planned to take him to my friend’s inauguration house party. The party was really great, featuring this bomb ass sangria and friends I haven’t seen in a hot minute! The plan (or so I thought) was to kick it there for an hour or so (since I had already been kicking it there for a while) and then go chill at my place. After we left the party I asked him what he wanted to do next and he said go home, so that’s where I took him—back to his brother’s house. The ride there was painstaking. He wasn’t really talking and it felt like there was some weird tension in the air. We’ve gmailed since then and he maintains that he was just tired. Thus far there aren’t any prospects for any future hangouts.

Then I find out on Myspace (and cross referenced on Facebook) that No Love in ’08 is engaged. Funny. Well not really. I’m like you didn’t even want to be in a relationship last year and now you’re engaged?!? It bothers me, but I really should have known all along that it was just me that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with. I really feel like no matter the circumstances in your life, if you really (and I do mean really) want to be with someone you’ll make it happen.

I went on this “date” on Thursday, in a piss poor attempt to get myself unhooked from NFL’s magical spell. It sooooo did not work. I ended up walking away wondering if dude was gay. Yea, yea I know that it’s probably an unfair assessment to make—because it’s based only on his fascination with baking and a moment in the date where he picked up his phone saying he was going to call his mother and blame her for his quirks—but hell that’s how I felt.

I had another lunch date with The Staffer on Friday. He’s cool peoples but I can’t tell what his deal is. I guess he just wants a lunch buddy, but he paid again. I’m so confused. There should be some rules on this like there are with Congressional lobbying. I’ll get my local Congressman on that ASAP.

This cop I was talking to a while back (Mr. Officer) hit me up on yahoo the other day. I broke things off with him because I was starting to like him and I couldn’t really accept the fact that he has three kids—two baby mamas. Anyway his IM is all about how he misses being around me. I tell him I’m not trying to lead him on and that we could only be friends. He, for whatever reason, agrees and says he wants to hang out. For some strange reason (cough cough loneliness cough cough) I agree. He ends up going MIA and snap out of my moment of weakness and realize why I had cut things off with him in the first place.

Y’all remember Friendship and Fun from my most recent “Take 'em Back Tuesday” post? Well he finally reached out to me to apologize for the situation with the mutual Internet friend-girl. He writes to me, and I quote: “i care for you and love you... and am thankful that you were so cool and we had good communication u know” He later adds, “i miss you.” Interesting.

In other news, I spent most of this weekend with family. Saturday night I took an impromptu mall trip with my sister and I spent 80 percent of today celebrating my niece’s christening. It was really nice, but it kinda made me sad. Had me thinking about when it would be my turn for all that. (Not that I’m in any way remotely ready to have a child. I just want a boyfriend.) But as you can see from my above Random Negro tales it’s not about to happen any time soon.

I pray next week is better.

One More Reason to Love Barack Obama!

2009-01-15T15:22:00.003-05:00

NFL is coming to town!
Oh yeah!
NFL is coming to town!
NFL is com-ing to tooooown….

Because my president is black. I don’t have a Lambo, but I’m still excited. LOL. I wonder if my local Congressman can get me one of those instead of those mules “we” were all supposed to get?

Anyway, NFL lives in New York (not sure if I told y’all that), but he has fam in the area so he’s coming for inauguration festivities. He asked if he’d see me while he was in town and of course I agreed!

That is all!

In the words of SuperDave if I reveal anymore it’s "bad mojo."

Hit y’all back up after the weekend!

Take ‘em Back Tuesdays: Recycled Professions of "Love"

2009-01-13T02:11:00.004-05:00

Hey y'all! I bet you thought I had all but abandoned Take 'em Back Tuesdays huh. Well I won't promise any regular posts for this series, but it's Tuesday and I feel like the dust has settled enough on this situation to share.

So remember that love poem I got from Friendship and Fun?

Here's an excerpt for those who don't feel like clicking back.

Well in the most random of ways I found out two things: a. I wasn't the only one he sent the poem to and b. he was dating a mutual acquaintance as he was popping in and out of my life.

So here's what happened. The mutual acquaintance is an Innanet friend that recently moved to the area. In an attempt to widen my social circle I suggest that we hang out. So we exchange numbers to chat and figure out what to do and when and of course the subject of menz comes up. So she starts telling me about how she really wants to hang out in the city to see some chocolate eye candy because the pickins are slim in the area she's in--but that she's not really trying to date because she's quasi still in love with her last bf. So I'm like girl I understand completely and she starts telling me about the guy. No real details, just situations they went through.

She off-handedly mentions this poem he sent her--via IM-- and for some reason *women's intuition I suppose* it clicks that she's talking about the same poem I got from Friendship and Fun. Well I'll be damned. Her ex-bf and Friendship and Fun are one in the same! Hmm..now I wonder if that random ass candle he gave me the day he cleaned up my house belonged to her first?

I mean I knew that we all knew each other from a common Internet stomping ground, but I'd dismissed any thought that he'd actually poach two folk from the same spot. Foul. I didn't mention anything to her on the phone because I was mulling over what good would come from it, but after consultation with a few friends and listening to my conscious, I decided I had to tell her. I mean I'd want someone to tell me that a guy that I was quasi still in love with was foul. You know so I could really get over him.

So the next day I send her an email with the poem and explain that I had a feeling that we had been talking to the same dude. She IM's me and she's obviously livid--though not at me. Thank God for small victories! She confirms that it is the same poem AND dude. We compare time lines and discover that he started talking to us at the same time. I got out quicker than she did because I realized sooner that he wasn't serious about me.

*Shaking my head* I want restitution for all that gas money I spent driving all over the damn place to see him. Hmmm, I wonder if I can get my local Congressman to help me set that in motion.

But back to my original point, based on the way she described their relationship he was all in it--well as much as a cheat can be--with her. I was just the play thing on the side. She said she hoped I didn't mind that she busted him out over the situation. I said do you. I'd long put him behind me.

She later tells me that he admitted talking to us at the same time. The sad part is she said early on she asked him if he had anything going on with me and he lied and said no. She said he said he didn't know why he lied about me, but that he was sincere in all the things that he told her about their relationship. For some reason I believe him. But oh well.

Random Negro Stories File: The Wrap-Up

2009-01-08T02:17:00.004-05:00

Wow I can't believe I haven't been on here in a couple months. Well actually I can. Every time I started to come on here and blog I'd just be like well maybe I should wait for this situation or that situation to develop a bit more before I tell y'all anymore of my business.

Well things are pretty chill for the moment, so I'm gonna do a Random Negro Story Wrap-Up, like Congress does when they're trying to get rid of a bunch of legislation all at once. You can thank my local Congressman for the idea. LOL. Brace yourself for a long one.

The Bison. He didn't make it past two months. Stood me up a couple of days before I left town to go to ATL for the holidays. Well we talked about it and he started talking some mumbo jumbo about subconsciously not wanting to do the things you have to do to really date someone so he had to go. I'm done with trying to make someone be with me. Been there done that and not only does that ish not work out well, but it left me with a slew of other problems I didn't need. I gave myself one day per month that we were talking to sulk.

Going home for the holidays as early as I did turned out to be the best decision I've made in a long time. My family kept me occupied from thinking about him and one day this crazy blue light appeared on my phone and in an attempt to save it I ended up losing all my numbers. Bam! Saved from any temptation to arguetext with him about how he was messing up the best thing that ever happened to him. LOL. Oddly enough yesterday he sent me a message on Facebook asking how I was doing. Hmm, barely a month out and he's trying to reconnect. I think that's a personal best for me. LOL.

While I was in ATL a girlfriend of mine came up to visit and we hit this spot called Utopia. Had a few Tokyo Teas (basically a melon Long Island) and partied the night away! It was great. So great we ended up going back the next week. The second time around was crazier than the first! I ended up running into some girls I went to high school with and met up with some friends from my alma mater and some of their phrat brothers. Enter The Line Brother, a former football player stature build of sexual chocolate goodness. Y'all! I had been lightweight lusting after this dude on the Internet for the better part of a year and a half, so when he showed up (and was seemingly unattached) I couldn't believe my luck!

*Ok. Let me give y'all some back story here. My friend, turned college bf, turned ex, turned friend, crossed Alpha in Spring '07. When the pics with The Line Brother started appearing on Facebook I commented to my friend that I thought he was really attractive. He said he'd introduce us but that he was already talking to another friend of his. So I kept my crushing to a minimum, but still finding myself biting my lip over his overall sexy whenever new Facebook photo's appeared.*

So my friend, turned college bf, turned ex, turned friend introduced us, but we didn't really end up interacting until my girl pushed me into dancing with him--literally. We ended up jumping off, because I knew that was all it would ever be keeping in mind that I was getting on a plane back to Maryland in two days. But sadly, and unbeknownst to me there were forces at work against this union. I later found out that my friend, turned college bf, turned ex, turned friend was opposed to it. Said he was hurt and disappointed by our lack of regard for what he may have thought about it. I told him I was sorry for hurting and disappointing him but I never thought that it would have considering he told me that he'd introduce us in the first place. So my friend, turned college bf, turned ex, turned friend and I are on a bit of a hiatus here.

So even though I was done sulking over The Bison, I wasn't done being bitter that I had made my travel arrangements based on thinking that we were going to spend New Year's Eve together. So I was back in Maryland with no particular plans but hoping that I wouldn't be sitting on my couch cursing his name. The night before New Year's Eve a good friend of mine from elementary school, who recently moved to the area, called me telling me about a pre-game NYE party at his house. I asked him what the main event was and he scrounged me up a ticket. Problem solved.

I had this banging green dress that I'd been saving for a special occasion so I didn't have to break my neck trying to figure out what the hell to wear. I paired it with these bronze stilettos, a golden/deep bronze ombre clutch, painted my nails a golden/sunset/sunrise orange, threw in some gold accessories and was ready to go. Only I wasn't going to get my dress all wrinkled up on my hellish commute into the city so I asked my friend if I could change at his place. He agreed. I made it out there and the party was in full swing. He made this outlandishly loud (I'm talking halt all conversation in the room) introduction of me. It was a bit embarrassing considering everyone was in their party clothes and I had just thrown on some tights, a sweater and boots.

Anyway I get dressed and rejoin the party and then my friend starts reintroducing me individually to everyone there. One of his closest friends, who I vaguely remember meeting a few years ago when I went to visit my friend in Philly for his 21st birthday party, takes a liking to me and I'm like this can't be happening two weeks in a row. (Yes you guessed it, my elementary school friend and I were an item for a hot minute in middle school. I really have to stop liking my friends--and their friends.)

The main event was a party at The Park, where they had a gourmet buffet and an open bar. We got there at like 7:30 and I was already tipsy from the pre-game. By this point NFL, which is what we'll call dude since he's a digital media manager for the NFL, and I have sorta paired off.
I fed him off my plate, we drank some more, danced, and somewhere in between there I ended up losing my phone, falling, gashing the hell out of my knee, and am placed in the drunk tank. Lawd. I thought I had vowed never to end back up there. I'll just say intoxication and stilettos don't mix. Anyway NFL is quite the gentleman and stays with me while they bandage me up and make me down like three bottles of water. At least it was Voss. LOL. Finally they let me back inside, we dance some more, kiss at midnight--after asking my friend like a thousand times if it was okay and end up leaving together shortly thereafter.

NFL had rented a room in my friend's apartment complex so we go back there. I remember getting undressed but I was on my cycle so nothing but some kissing and oral delights--for him--was going down. *TMI Sidebar Time: Giving head while you are dehydrated from being intoxicated is the hardest thing ever. I've been told at one point I was yelling "N--a I ain't got no more spit."*

The next morning we woke up and NFL was being all sweet saying stuff like me being the first face he saw of '09 was a great beginning. We kissed some more and talked and then we got hungry. He spent like 15 minutes trying to figure out where the hell we put my dress only for me to realize I'd look crazy as hell trying to walk out in search of food in that thing. So he got my bag that I came with from my friend's apartment and I changed back into my outfit that I had came over in. Eventually we found it in the closet. Really in that drunken state we had the presence of mind to hang my dress in the closet. Wow.

In search of food we ended up at Caribu Coffee to wait for about a half hour for Popeye's to open. For whatever reason we decided that fried chicken and red drink should be our first official New Year's meal. Yes I know coonery at its finest. So a Popeye's and 7-eleven run later, we go back to the apartment with Kitsch in hand, where his other friend and these two other girls had finally stirred. Later in the day I ventured back home, did a quick change and packed a bag for the next night. Once back in city I retrieved my phone from The Park, after everyone and their grandma told me where it was. God bless the bartender who found it and texted a bunch of folks in my phone so they could let me know where it was.

We all met back up to go bowling at Lucky Strike for one of my friend's friend's birthday. Afterwards we tried hitting another lounge, but nothing but The Park was open and most of us didn't really feel like going back there. So my friend, his quasi girl for the week, NFL and I get food at this nearby carryout, drink some more and play Rock Band into the night. Eventually everyone got tired and NFL and I went back to his room again, this time with a more favorable oral experience. LOL. The next morning he was checking out so I helped him pack his bag and we all went back up to my friend's apartment. I got dressed for the day, helped them clean up and by mid-afternoon people had piled back over to play Rock Band before we headed to Lauriol Plaza.

Here's where things get ugly. Apparently starting drinking at 1 p.m., continuing to drink margaritas and sangria at a Mexican spot, and keep drinking once back at my friends place is not a good look. I have no idea how I held it together to get into Jin, the lounge we went to after playing more Rock Band. But I couldn't have held it together too well because I later found out that I showed my ass (though not literally thank God!) and besmirched my good name with NFL. I've somewhat redeemed myself with him, but of course as my luck would have it he says he's not in a position to get into anything serious. So we're just flirting and having fun until my next Random Negro comes along.

If you're still reading this, I apologize for rambling on for so long. I'll fill you in later with more. Ciao and Happy New Year!

Weekend in Review: Random Thoughts

2008-11-24T16:02:00.002-05:00

Hey Peoples! Hope you had a good weekend. Sorry I've been slacking on the posts over here. I'll try to do better.

Anyway here's how my weekend went.

I didn’t see The Bison this weekend. We went to a happy hour Thursday night and we spent the night together. He sent me to work with a smile on my face though ☺. He gchatted me this morning to say that he missed me. Awww.

Enterprise tried to act like they wanted my future first born just because I was using a debit card to rent a car. Bastards. I need my local Congressman to help revise that process since consumer credit is at a premium these days.

Perfume counter ladies are gangsta! I wanted a new fragrance and ended up walking away with two sets and ALL three free gifts they were offering that day and a few extra purse lotions and perfume samples.

So rather than do a stupid random song in the middle of the restaurant like most restaurants, the employees at Joe’s Crab Shack get to do a stupid random Cha Cha Slide in the middle of the restaurant. That dance looks soooooo different when 2520s do it.

Seafood enchiladas and Great Balls of Fire (jalepeno, shrimp and crab balls) are the business!

I need to remember that the next time I need a cameraman in the club to either ask a girl or a cute guy I wouldn’t mind flirting with. Made the mistake of asking some dude that just happened to be around and he ended up harassing me for a dance all night.

Drunkenly dancing back and forth between me and my home girl, and then cycling back through the rest of your friends, won’t get you either of our numbers.

I thought tonguing people down in the middle of the club was out of style.

Some people should really leave the club before they turn the lights back on.

I finally got my digital TV converter boxes, while it does make the picture clearer and take away the static you hear when you have a weak signal, instead you get a stupid pixilated screen and it makes it sound like everyone is stuttering.

The $5 DVD bin at Wal-Mart is the devil. Why can’t I stay away?

Popeye’s put all my favorites in a bowl and called it The Big Easy Chicken Bowl. I added a biscuit on the side and was in heaven. LOL.

Weekend in Review/Winter Bunning

2008-11-17T10:56:00.003-05:00

Happy Monday peoples! I had a pretty good weekend.

Saturday I had to work from home to cover a press conference President Bush did after the G-20 finance summit. I wish I had been covering President-elect Obama though. Hmm…I wonder if I can get my local Congressman to try and push up the inauguration date.

So since I was working from home I took the opportunity to clean up a little do some organizing. Every time I start in on such a project I think to myself, man why I do I let it get this bad? I almost gave up and called in Clean House, but I don’t want them to make me sell my shoes and handbags.

Later that night, The Bison and I went to one of my male friend’s birthday party at Strike Bethesda. It’s funny how he agreed to go but on the way he starts asking all these questions about the nature of the relationship with myself and said friend. Wanting to know if we had dated or whatever, so he would know what kind of situation he was walking into. But what if I had been some trife girl and was taking him to some crazy, jealous ex’s party? I guess he trusts me.

The party was great. I bowled like a 47, but I felt like one of “them.” The girls I always envied for having their man around to take care of stuff. The Ones who all they had to do was show up and be cute. I could get used to this. LOL.

Speaking of getting used being one of "them", I swear, as the temperature dips so does male apprehension to bunning up—marking the beginning of Winter Bun Season. CocaColaCutie’s web dictionary—the abridged version—defines Winter Bun Season as the time of year characterized by high rates of boo/wifey up-dom. Generally begins at the first dip in temperature below 50 degrees Fahrenheit and marked by several changes in facebook statuses from “single” to “in a relationship.”

I swear collectively they are singing in their heads:

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we’ve no place to go
REMIX!
Let us bun, let us bun, let us bun.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Well maybe. Maybe I can get my local Congressman to push up the time for this season like they did with Daylight Savings Time. (Ha! Two local Congressman references in one blog! I’m on fire! LOL). If you’re normally single during this time of year like I am, you can expect to be hit with texts, IMs, and phone calls from Random Negroes looking to save on their gas/electric bills. Hmmm, maybe I should have thought about that before I paid that revised version of that gargantuan gas bill.

But seriously I swear my almost-taken status has only heightened Winter Bun Season for me. We haven’t even seen a hint of snow and I’ve already been hit up by a few former potential boos.

The Trainer hit me up apologizing for how things went down. He was the one that ended up dodging my calls and texts and then finally told me that he was kinda, sorta, maybe talking to his ex-gf. He was acting like he wanted to go out on Veterans’ Day, but I had to work. The Mason has been trying to keep himself in the mix. Last night he told me he was going to plan a weekend getaway for us. I won’t hold my breath.

You Betta Getchu One

2008-11-10T17:57:00.002-05:00

I don't feel like boring you with mushy, gushy details of my weekend with The Bison, so instead I bring you a rare reflective post.

The first-family elect has brought to the forefront the endless possibilities of a strong black family unit. It’s encouraging to now hear my male friends say they are looking for their “Michelle” since my closest friends and I always joked that the easiest way to get wifed up was to not do anything with your life. It seemed that our “hot commodity” bachelor friends were always choosing unmotivated women—women with no passion other than to serve their men—as their mates. One by one they provided “proof” of our completely unscientific conclusion.

Now I’m hopeful that watching Barack and Michelle in White House will mean that black men will no longer be afraid to have a strong woman by their side. That it’ll be ok for as Neyo says to “love her cause she got her own.” (Special thanks to all the local Congressmen who lent their support to help them become the first family and an inspiration to all.)

This shift has brought about my own self-analysis about whether or not I am a “Michelle.” Would I complement a “Barack?” I look good on paper, but there’s more to mere professional accolades to being a “Michelle.” She has a style and grace that no Ivy League school could have cultivated.

I wonder am I strong enough on my own yet submissive enough to allow the right man to lead our future family and me? It’s a balance that the self-described “mom-in-chief” has gracefully achieved. She hasn’t given up who she is to let her man shine. Best friends for sixteen years, her light helps him shine. I’m sure he’d tell you that any day of the week.

So as I explore my romantic interest, I’m striving to be the best “Michelle” I can be and hoping that he’ll be my “Barack.” What I want is less about being that “Washington power couple” and more about developing a love that will stand the test of time and enable us to add another notch to the strong black family column that for so long has deteriorated. Ladies and gents as my bff says, “you better getchu one.”

At the Polls/Weekend in Review

2008-11-04T12:23:00.004-05:00

Hey Blog Fam. I’m going to interrupt the regularly scheduled Take ‘em Back Tuesday to tell y’all all about my voting experience this morning.

Since I’m motor vehicularly challenged, I waited until the sun came up to walk to my polling place. It’s like around the corner from my house and I figured that even if I had to wait a while I wouldn’t complain because I was just going to go back home and get in the bed anyway. Still I wasn’t quite prepared to see the line wrapped around a part of the parking lot of the community services center that I didn’t even know existed. Folks were out there deep! Shout out to my local Congressman for getting early voting on the ballot. I hope people vote in favor of that joint so that I can choose when I want to vote next time. Still, if voting for Barack weren’t incentive enough then the folks at my polling place made my two-hour wait worth every second!

There were the “entrepreneurs” taking advantage of the captive audience. One man was out selling Obama t-shirts. One had “him” (and I say that loosely because whoever drew the template either can’t draw or confused Obama with Samuel L. Jackson) with a basketball in hand making a slam dunk. The other shirt he was showcasing had “Obama” in Tom Cruise stealth mode and it read Mission Possible. But the thing that got me was he was wearing a jacket with Obama’s rising sun symbol emblazoned with red, white and blue rhinestones. Black folks love them some rhinestones. That thing had more rhinestones than a Kimora Lee Simmons runway collection. Then there was this kid, who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine, walking around trying to rent this folding chair, a dollar for 15 minutes. Errrybody got a hustle. I wasn’t even mad at him. I didn’t give him no dollar, but I respected his gangsta. But I can’t lie the EBP in me made me cringe at the thought of being the mother of that child.

Then of course there were the bad ass kids that make you want to take two birth control pills, the shot and double up on the condoms before having sex. One little boy was swinging around one of those metal parking signs and busted his head. He was trying to act all hard like he wasn’t hurt but he stood his ass in one place after that. Shortly thereafter this lil girl busted her ass hopping on and off the sidewalk. I love when bad little kids hurt themselves. I be like, “Yes! That’s what you get! Now sit your lil bad ass down!”

Then there was the political banter about the candidates. How even though he was ahead in the polls Obama had to campaign like he was underdog. One lady was like despite the fact that he was raised by white women and went to all the “right” schools he’s still a black man. One-drop rule.

And as we made it inside the building folks were getting off their cell phones talking about, “Girl I gotta get off this phone. I’m not trying to jam up the machines. I want my vote to count!”

I love it. I hope everyone did their civic duty and went out and voted. If not take the time to do it and maybe you’ll get a few stories out of the experience.

On to my weekend. I spent more time with The Bison. He’s quickly becoming a “part” of my life. Thursday we did a late happy hour at Fridays and on Halloween we went party hopping. I was Lady Elvis. He’s not the dress up type so the most I could get him to do was to put on a black suit and be my “security.” LOL.

Here’s a couple of pics.

Saturday after we went to work he picked me up, we went to Macy’s. (He didn’t even mind pouring over the MAC counter with me), got some soul food at this place on U Street called Ooohs and Aaahs, and saw Zack and Miri Make a Porno. Hilarious! A must see I tell you! Sunday we lazed around my house. I made breakfast and we watched Friday. I had forgotten how much I like that movie. “I’m just gonna tuck mine in.” LOL.

And of course what would my weekend be without a couple Random Negro Stories. I was working from home on Friday waiting for the gas company to rectify my situation, when I logged into yahoo and was greeted by this message from Friendship and Fun:

ending one love
one warm hug
one prayer full of...
a solicitation for the emancipation
of the dreams you have on reservation
I wish God upon you
You've been patient
Today's the end of your waiting
Arise and be who you were created to be
Let's begin your celebration

This is me
lending myself
lending tears for life's cries
understanding for life's whys
comfort for life’s sighs
for hugs, I’m lending arms and shoulders
giving the muscles in between to help you with life's boulders
sending warmth when hearts around seem to get quite colder
you can borrow my legs when u need someone to run with you
We can serve together, I'll use my gifts too
when down, I'll lift you
there's nothing we can't get to
and sift though
This is me... always with you

I chatted with him for a while and he tells me that he’s interviewing for some jobs in D.C. and basically asked to crash with me for a while—talking about he wants to help me pay my rent. I’m like ummm no.

Then The Mason performed the reappearing portion of his disappearing act, trying to ask me out on date. I told him I already had plans and that he should have hit me up earlier in the week because a lady needs three days notice. He complained about the new “rules” and I told him that he—being a Republican and all—didn’t do too well in the free market and now it’s time to abide by the regulations. I told him that if history were any guide there would be a time for deregulation. But honestly I seriously doubt if I ever see him again. He’s too flaky and even if he weren’t I know he wouldn’t be what The Bison is—a true gentleman, opening doors, helping me with my coat, and taking out my trash, kissing me and randomly telling me I’m beautiful. Ok. Let me stop before this gets too mushy. What am I turning into?????

Weekend In Review/Take ‘em Back Tuesday

2008-10-28T13:45:00.000-04:00

Hey guys. Weekend-in-Review, the abridged version.

I spent a lot of time with The Bison. Friday we went to dinner and to see SAW V. It was aight, but we were both confused so when we got out of the movie we went to Blockbuster and picked up SAW IV to watch at my house. We didn't end up watching the movie but not for reasons you'd think. We got into a mini argument when he made two stops at 7-Eleven. I got mad that he stopped to get condoms because I figured it meant he was going to down that wayward path of trying to get some and bounce. He was like I don't know how many ways I can tell you that I'm not these other dudes you were messing with before me. Fair enough. We kissed and made up and I let it go. But he still ain't get no nooky. At least not that day. LOL.

Saturday was work at the part time. I was supposed to go to a party, but after getting my Halloween costume and roaming around Target for randomness I just decided against it. Sidebar: I love how Halloween is license to, as Kayellejaye put it, "slut it up guilt free." We should get more of those holidays. I'll consult my local Congressman.

I thought The Bison was gonna come back over and chill with me, but he didn't and I was too tired to protest.

Sunday I ran some errands and then The Bison came over and we finally got around to watching SAW IV, which I thought was better than the new movie out.

On to the Take 'em Back Tuesday, which this week will serves as a public service announcement and thus is dedicated to all the men out there who want to approach me when they’re hanging out one on one with a woman. Please don’t do it. If you want to meet me, or any woman for that matter, go out with your boys or alone. I don’t care if she is your friend, sister, cousin, brother’s wife, brother’s baby mama, god-sister, auntie’s co-worker from her part time job, it’s just not a good idea.

Learn from this situation. Back in June out of boredom I went to a lounge solo. I’d heard it was a nice lil spot for a Friday night and it was free so I said why not. I got there kinda early (to take advantage of the free admission) and as I expected no one was really in the spot. There were about 12 people in the spot: myself, a group of girls that were either celebrating a birthday or just out for happy hour and the staff. But like I said it was mad early so I expected that. The DJ was banging, played some 90s R&B that I hadn’t heard in a while, so I decided to wait it out.

Around 11 a few more people started trickling in. First another group of girls, then a dude who was rolling solo, and finally a guy and a girl. I was sitting off from the bar. I didn’t really feel like drinking and I had to drive anyway. So I was chilling. I bopped to the music some more, people watched and then I noticed that the dude that had come in with the girl, lets call him Dunkin’ Donuts--because he should have backed back from a few of em--was all eyeing me up. He was about 5’10, 250, wore glasses and had a somewhat receding hairline. None of which sparked any interest on my part. Anyway I thought to myself, how disrespectful. I would hate to be with a guy who has a wandering eye, and he was so not being slick about it.

I start texting so pass more time as I wait for people to come. Next thing I know Dunkin’ Donuts had swooped down from the bar, has abandoned his company, and is now by my side. Like I said earlier Dunkin' Donuts is not exactly my cup of tea, but I’m always nice so I answered all his questions with a smile but tried to not appear interested. After telling me that he’s about ten years my senior (35) and that chick he was there celebrating his sister's birthday he retreats to the bar.

I go outside to take a phone call, and when I come back in Dunkin' Donuts is motioning me over to the bar. I'm all confused--like what this Negro want. I go over and he's like oh I wanted to introduce you to my sister. *RECORD SCRATCH* Yes. What in the ham sandwich? So I look over to the sister, and say hi how are you doing. She says hi and is not friendly. But hey I guess I wouldn't be that friendly either if I was celebrating my birthday alone with my damn brother. But that's an entirely different blog.

The whole thing was so uncomfortable and brings me back to my original point. Do not try and holla when you are out with another woman.

Random Negro Stories File: Dirty Old Man With a Cause

2008-10-24T13:56:00.001-04:00

Hey peoples. Sorry for my MIAness. Life got in the way of blogging, but I have a few moments and a story that I must must must share with you guys.

This afternoon I was walking to my office from the Hill and I pass by this old man. Because my luck would have it he swoops in from the corner up to me and says, “My my my, the gates of heaven must have opened up and let you right on out.”

Amused by his compliment I smile and say, “Apparently.” I tried quickening my pace to lose him, but he keeps up with me and keeps going on about how I’m such a beautiful woman and what not. Then he starts talking about this newspaper created to give homeless men a way to make money other than just begging on the street. I look up and notice his “Street Sense” badge. Oh so that’s what this was about. This bamma was sweet talking me to get me to give him some change. He’s like anything you can give to help is fine. I mean it’s a really good skit. They get some money, you get a tangible product. It’s win-win. I’ll encourage my local Congressman to get this going in Maryland.

I reach in my bag and give him a dollar and try to move on my merry way, but he’s not done with me. He’s like, “One more thing can I take you out later tonight for a piece of chicken?” *Insert Record Scratch* Something to keep in mind: these Street Sense vendors are homeless people, not just the volunteers helping them out, but the homeless people themselves! According to their website, “The vendors make an average of $40 a day, and some have even been able to use this money to move out of the shelter.” So I guess he can afford the chicken, but still! I don’t know how I feel about getting hit on by homeless men.

Being polite I said no thank you I already have plans tonight. (I do! Supposedly going on a date to see the new Saw movie.) Why did this man say, “That’s ok. I’ll bring him a piece of chicken too!” What in ham sandwich?!? I laughed and walked away and he finally moved on probably to his next customer/potential date.

Weekend In Review/Random Negro Stories File: Homecoming Winning Weekend

2008-10-20T01:45:00.003-04:00

Oh my. Where do I start? So many stories to share from this weekend! Are you ready? My apologies in advance for this thesis length post, but this is gonna be a good one! I promise.

Thursday night my friends and I had a girl’s night in with Hooters Wings, Sweet Potato Pie, French Vanilla Ice Cream, and a wide array of white liquors. We laughed it up, shared war stories and love stories. Good times. We hadn’t gotten together like that since my friend’s baby shower last July.

Sobering up Friday morning we got dressed and headed to Howard’s campus for Yardfest. I didn’t pay much attention to the musical acts, but it was nice to be out and about and see old friends and take pictures and eat fried fish and chicken wings. We visited our Journalism mentors and ate up mass amounts of free chicken at this reception hosted by the School of Communications.

Friday night was the big Diddy party at Love and where my interesting Random Negro Stories File begins.

One of my random negroes, No Love In ’08, resurfaced. He texted me asking what I was getting into for the night and I tell him and he says he’ll be there too and maybe he’ll see me. Several shots of Patron and the fact that I probably still haven’t gotten over him had me feeling all nostalgic so I replied that it would be nice. Mistake number one.

So we got all dolled up and rolled out with liquor in car to pre-game. So we pull into the club’s parking lot and notice that two cars full of dudes on either side of us were doing the same. Already having downed several shots of Patron I roll down my passenger side window and start asking what they were sipping on. They answer Ciroc and we start making jokes about how this economy has gainfully employed folks drinking in the car. (Free drinks in the club are getting more and more scarce these days. I think I’ll thank my local Congressman for that. He better hope that SuperBailout Fund works and things get back to normal!) Anyway we end up chatting with the guys in the car on the driver’s side. One guy preemptively laid his claim on one of my girls. We were like dang already we haven’t even made it out the car yet.

Once inside danced around and I swear the music activated my buzz because I wasn’t feeling anything before that. Maybe I’m just becoming a lush. No Love In ’08 texts me and after I while I find him on the dance floor on the second level. We dance for a bit but he kinda moves on but is still hovering in the area. Meanwhile other dudes start dancing with me and he takes it upon himself to start dancing with my friend. I got a lil jealous and started putting on a show with whatever random negro was behind me. I was putting in some serious work. He does the same with my friend. So there we are eyeing each other up going tit for tat with our dance partners. Eventually we get back to dancing with each other and then end up moving on once my friends were ready to check out what was going on in the rest of the club.

So up we went. The third floor was pretty cool. We moved to this “outside” area and danced. I got a Bonecrusher and after I finished my drink I got back to dancing. I ended up dancing with some dude. He offered to buy me a drink so we headed back to the bar but it took so long to get the bartender’s attention that he just ended up handing me some money and took off to find his friends or whatever. I didn’t particularly care. I already had my free drink money in hand so I got some Ciroc to see what everybody has been raving all about. I asked the bartender to mix it with Pineapple. To tell the truth I don’t know if I just got a bad drink or something, but I really wasn’t that impressed with it. Glancing across the bar I noticed this dude that I had a crush on freshman year. We made eye contact so I tipped my drink up to him and he did the same. He was still cute but he looked bammafied to me. He had on one of those puffy vests (probably a North Face) with a long sleeved button up.

After Free Drink Dude rolled out I ended up dancing with this other dude who I later discovered I went to school with. (Duh it was a Homecoming party!) Anyway we’ll call him The Bison. He seemed nice enough so we exchanged numbers. After he left my friends and I finally made it up to the fourth floor where I ran into more people I knew. My friend was texting this guy she wanted to meet up with but en route we ran into one of her old hoes. Trying to run interference for her I ended up getting half molested on the dance floor. But tell me why once we got up there the dude text her back and said he went back downstairs. WTF. So back down we went. All the way to the first level.

I ran back into No Love In ’08. We hugged and started talking. He ends up inviting me back to his place, but the conversation took a nosedive. Somehow we started rehashing ancient history (from him almost becoming my baby daddy to the revelation that nothing was going to happen between us in 2008—hence his nick name—to him telling me that he’s no longer with the girl he chose to be with instead of me, but now talking to someone else—still not me.) I had this Grey’s Anatomy moment where I’m basically drunkenly asking him to choose me. He doesn't. I'm tearing up at this point and he wants a chance to explain later that so much had happened and it was because we lost touch and that I have bad timing. I asked him what was I really supposed to do given that he told me that nothing was going to happen between us this year. I'm quasi yelling, "It's still 2008." He said if the shoe were on the other foot he would have stayed in touch because he wanted my friendship. I swear that's code for lemme keep you on the sidelines just in case I need to make a substitution. I don't want that. I ended up walking away and back to a guy friend who consoles me for a moment. We leave the club and I go to bed disheartened.

Luckily I bounce back quickly. Or at least pretend to. What about the football? Oh yea that. Howard lost of course—at least it was in double overtime though. A little before I got on the Yard to watch the game Saturday afternoon The Bison sent me a text telling me how he met me at Love and wanted to know if I was just in town for the weekend or if I live in the area. I tell him I live here and he tells me that he lives in Hyattsville. He suggests getting together on Sunday to hang out since we both had plans for Saturday night. I agree, but of course because he's a young Alumni I ended up running into him at the Yacht Party that night. I was doing a quick scan of the room when I end up bumping right into him. He hugs me for a long time and then we start dancing. He's like girl I'm so gone right now. You need to be gone like me. So I say, "Well get me gone" and we head to the bar. He buys me a Bonecrusher Leaning in close to me he says, "I was hoping your sexy ass would be here tonight." We danced for a bit and afterwards he tells me he'll catch up with me later and I go back in search of my friends. I make it to the second level of the boat where most people were, so I dance around and run into people.

Like an hour before the boat was supposed to go back to the dock The Bison and I have this drunken text exchange (complete with ignorant slang and typographical errors for your enjoyment).

The Bison: I am gone.
Me: I'm done son.
The Bison: Me too lol.
Me: wheer r u
The Bison: outside the second floor of the boat.
Me: Come back in.
The Bison: I can't lol. I'm done. come home with me and i'll take you home in the morning
Me: If I can find u
The Bison: I'm on the 2nd floor of the boat
The Bison: outside
Me: Outsside too

Despite this clearly drunken exchange I do end up finding him and going back to his place with him. He shuttles his friends back to their cars and we head out to his spot. We get there and bammas are up like it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon rather than 4 o'clock in the morning. One of them is walking around with half a chicken in his hand and offers me some. I decline and he's like, "I made it before I was drunk so it's good." I'll take your word for it playa.

The Bison shows me to his room only to discover there are no sheets on the bed. So he starts yelling at his roommates about where his sheets went. One yells back they're in the dirty clothes. He starts dropping all kinds of F bombs like, “Like what the fuck. Where the fuck are my sheets dog.” He finds a pillow and throws it on the bed and goes back out the room—in search of sheets I guess. I start to curl up on the bed but then I start smelling something rank. I start to move around but this rancid smell is still invading my nostrils so I open my eyes and start looking around. I get up from the bed when I figure out where the smell is coming from. Dude has still not come back to the room, so I yell to him, umm I think someone threw up in your bed. He runs back to the room like are you serious? He looks and sees that indeed someone has regurgitated only God knows what onto his bed. More F Bombs. He figures out which roommate upchucked all in his space. The bathroom is across from The Bison’s bedroom so he’s still yelling, “What the fuck, did you mistake my room for the bathroom?”

He gave up and we go back into the living room. He shifts gears and then starts yelling at him to give up his sheets. The roommate is like is it for her or for you. He’s like for her and her and he comes out with some comforter. I’m dumbfounded that any of this is actually happening. I mean I really thought I was in an alternate universe but then I remember who I am and figured that if this was going to happen to anyone it would indeed happen to me. We end up moving to the couch but the roommate—still wide awake—has brought out his laptop and is surfing the net I guess at like almost 5 a.m. I end up falling asleep and when I woke up sometime around 9 a.m. the roommate is in the exact place he was when I fell asleep. Sitting at this small ass “dining room” table. I swear it was like a tall coffee table, but what really what really made me lose it was seeing the roommate in a recliner pushed up to the table. Ghetto! I woke up dehydrated of course so I ask dude for some water and he brings it out in a wine goblet. Gotta love bachelor life.

So he starts getting ready and asking me if I’m hungry and suggests getting something to eat and then chilling at my place. I’m like only one problem. I don’t have my keys. I left them at my friend’s house fearing that I’d lose them on the boat. He’s like damn and then finally agrees to just drop me back off at my friend’s place. On the way back we talk and discover that we have friends in common and that we actually could have met a couple weeks earlier at a birthday party I was supposed to go to. He said he still wanted to get up later in the day per our original plan from Saturday afternoon, but he was feeling sick all day and I was just tired from the whole crazy weekend.

If that wasn’t a crazy enough random negro story this is sure to put it over the top. Sunday after riding with my friends to see one off to the airport and the other back to her spot, I get home. I start reconnecting with the online world, checking Facebook, Myspace and instant messaging folks online. I sent a quick message to this one dude I met on this dating site, we’ll call him Esquire. So we’re chit chatting about Colin Powell endorsing Barack Obama but then I shift the conversation to when we’re gonna get together and he starts talking about how things are crazy and he tells me that he ended up going out on a date with some woman he was dating about a year ago and that he actually had a really great time and that he was probably going to see “what was up with that.” He said he didn’t (insert air quotes) know that I wanted to date him. Oh really. Last weekend he was talking about how he wanted to go see W with me, but of course that wasn’t going to work out because of my prior Homecoming engagements.

So I’m thinking to myself are you serious. In the span of one weekend I’m really going to get passed over twice?!? I must have been a horrible person in my past life. So I start thanking him for being honest and not wasting my time and he’s like well I’m sure you’re dating other people anyway. So I’m like I thought you didn’t assume things. He’s like I’m not. So I go well unless you’ve seen me on a date how is that not an assumption? He reveals that some conversations we had about blogging (I told him I was addicted to reading them) got him curious about blogging so he did some research about local blogs and found mine. He put two and two together with my blog name and the job and location. Shit. Not that I necessarily wanted to hide the fact that I’ve been dating, but there’s something about discovering that someone you’re trying to date has information that you didn’t intend for them to have. Well at least not all the sordid details.

He confessed that finding it made him realize that he wouldn’t start one because anyone that he might write about could quite easily stumble upon it and that talking to me became a low priority because he felt like he’d just be added to the mix of men in my life and he’s not looking for that. So my big ass mouth and open ass blog cost me a potential relationship. Now I’m all paranoid about who else might be reading this thing. Oh well I’ll keep searching. But maybe I should restrict my Random Negro Stories File entries to foolishness so far in the past it won’t have any impact on my current love life. Or maybe it’s time to lock this baby down and only let invited readers into my crazy world.

Random Negro Stories File: The Staffer

2008-10-16T16:10:00.000-04:00

Hey people. I’m gonna be MIA until Monday when I fill you in about my Howard Homecoming Winning Weekend. No I don’t actually expect them to win the game (Howard is not known for its athletic programs), but it just sounded good. Like those radio promotions when you call in to win free tickets to stuff. Anyway I’ve got a quick story to tell y’all.

So where was I? Oh Homecoming. So I’m at work this morning waiting on this Committee hearing to start. (Sidebar: You know they are really ruining my “recess.” I mean my local Congressman is back in his district probably campaigning or something, why can’t they be?) Anyway I overhear these two dudes talking about Howard Homecoming. After a while I interject and ask if either of them went to Howard. One actually did and we start the whole when did you graduate, what events are you going to thing. The dude he was talking to had to run, but we kept talking.

Turns out he’s the IT Director for one of the Committees I regularly cover, so he’ll be called The Staffer. Trying to get into my networking mode I ask him if he has a card and he’s like I’ll get one for you. I thought it was one of those lines that people say when they really don’t want to give you their card, so I was surprised when he actually came back to the room and hands me his card. I gave him mine and he left.

I got this email about some alumni parties for the weekend, so I sent him a quick email telling him about the parties and that it was nice to meet him. He replied saying it was nice to meet me as well and thanked me for the party information. I reply no problem. And then he writes back, “Sorry I know you are probably busy but after sitting in the hearing for about 2 hours you may be a little hungry. If you are free after this is over we should grab lunch.”

After some consultation with SuperDave about the nature of this invite (Is it a date or just a networking opportunity?) I accept the offer and tell him I just have to finish up some work and drop my stuff off and I’ll be free.

I’m thinking since we’re on the Hill we’ll just go to one of the cafeterias on site, so when he suggested going to Uno’s I’m starting to think this isn’t just networking. I’m not a big Uno’s fan so I ask him what else he’s got in mind and we agree on going to the Capitol City Brewery not too far from Union Station.

I dropped my stuff off and did a quick hair/makeup check. Date or not you will not catch me slipping. I meet him outside of his office and we walk over there. As we sit down he starts asking me all these date type questions like what’s my favorite food and where’s my family and stuff, so I conclude that this is indeed a date. He did pay and as we walked back to the Hill he was like well it was nice and said he’d give me a call and maybe we could do it again next week.

So there! I finally met someone in person and outside of the club scene. I thought I was going to be totally dependent on the Internet to find dates, but guess what?!? Ya girl still got it!

Random Negro Stories File: The Mason

2008-10-15T14:35:00.003-04:00

So many of you may be wondering what happened to the guy from “The Date That Went Well” blog. Well guess what?!? So am I.

The Mason, much like many of the other guys I find myself digging, is a mess. What a disappointment.

A week after that date he promised a day of quality time with lunch, shooting pool, and then DVD watching at my house. Well the night before all of that was supposed to go down, he went to his ten-year high school reunion, got drunk off his ass because it was open bar, and canceled on me. Fine I said. I know all too well what a hang over of that magnitude can do to a person. So I didn’t trip. He said he’d make it up the next day.

Well the next day came and went with nary a call, text, smoke signal, or carrier pigeon from The Mason, to offer any explanation about why he stood me up. You think I’d learned from Iraq and just let it go right. No I can’t leave well enough alone so I asked him what was up. He apologized saying he had an emergency and that he fucked up by not calling. Ya damn right you fucked up. Again he promised to make it up. Silly me I believed him.

I did see him once more after that great date, but it was an impulse come over and spend the night with me type thing. We didn’t do the hokey pokey after acknowledging that it would muddy an already unclear situation. We even chatted the next day. But then communication faded to black. Again I asked him what was up and he said that he was busy and probably too busy to date and ended things saying he hoped I was available when he wasn’t as busy.

So there it was: my brush off. Or so I thought. Three days later he sends me an unsolicited text message talking about how he owes me a date and that he wanted to pick back up where things left off that night he came over. Figures. So I text him back saying “Oh, guess you’re not too busy for that.” We go through this whole exchange over text (that by the way really should have been a phone conversation) about how he wants more than a FB, but that it’s hard for him to devote the time to a relationship that he should. Foolishly I told him that I was still willing to work with him. He said fine and said that we would talk about it after he got out of his class.

Well of course you know he didn’t call. So I did but it was sometime later. I just had to know why this fool keeps breaking his word. He said something about how it slipped his mind and I shouldn’t let him forget. Whatever. But still we make plans to meet up one day after I get off work. So day of, I call him and am like what we doing tonight? He said he wasn’t expecting me to get off work as early as I did and he made plans to feed the homeless. How convenient. But he says he’ll be done in a couple of hours. He lives out in Alexandria so I said well I have to run an errand at Pentagon City so I can waste time there and you can scoop me from there when you’re done. He agrees.

No sooner than I step foot off the escalator at Pentagon City do I get a text message from him saying, “Bad news I have to go into work.” I’m like are you serious. Now I’m hotter than the pressing comb that my momma used to straighten out my hair when I was young. I say to him this is no longer cute. He says, “It never was, but I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry.” He offers to come over if he gets off work at a reasonable time. I’m mad, but I accept anyway. He never showed up, but the next morning I got a text talking about how he was just getting off work and he was just going home to shower and change and go back.

Like a week later he texts me asking to email him my available off days as far as I know them. This was during the SuperBailout period of my life so I told him what my usual days are and said that it was subject to change at any moment because of my crazy work schedule. Congress always has a way of ruining my love life. I’m going to write my local Congressman and ask him to try and keep all Congressional matters to normal business hours.

Eventually things died down at my full time job and then my part time job canceled evening work “until further notice.” So I was excited that I might actually get to see him again. I told him of the changes and he said that he’d probably have time on Thursday. So I said great.

I figured I would spend the night over there so I was going to pack a bag so I’d have clothes to wear to work the next day, but I woke up late that morning and figured that he’s so flaky I better not waste any time trying to get an overnight bag together. Good thing I didn’t. I got to work and sent him a message on Gmail chat. No answer. Several hours later I send one that says, “Hey I know you’re busy but I’m just trying to see if we’re still on today.” Still nothing. At 5:30 p.m. I gave up and went home. I called and left him a message saying, “Well I guess you’re standing me up again. I mean you could have at least called and said you weren’t going to be able to make it, but then that wouldn’t be considered standing me up would it?” I paused and said goodbye.

On my way home I called New Dude and we made plans to go out instead. Around 7 p.m. as I’m getting dressed for my date The Mason finally calls and says that he didn’t intentionally stand me up and that he had been swamped at work all day. He said he guessed I was already home. I responded with a series of mmm hmmms. He didn’t even try to fake a make up date this time so I knew it was time for me to just let it go.

I guess I was just hoping that at some point he would stop disappointing me and we would get back to that fun time we had. He was perfect on paper. Single, no kids, stable job, working on his a degree, non-smoker. He seemed to be everything I've been looking for that I just wanted so badly for it to work out. That and the fact that all I had going on otherwise was a series of baby daddies, but I'll have to tell y'all the story on that another day.

Weekend In Review/Take ‘em Back Tuesday

2008-10-14T13:51:00.008-04:00

Hey folks! Welcome back! Warning. Long post, but I have a lot to tell yall.

My weekend ended Sunday night because Congress decided to meet with some economic advisors on Monday and I was assigned to track down what came out of all that. What better way to celebrate Columbus Day (a federal holiday, that I was supposed to get off) than to work? I can think of a few that I’m gonna get with my local Congressman about.

In exchange my bosses let me take Friday off. So my weekend started Thursday night! Yay! I was actually supposed to go out with The Mason, that night, but that didn’t work out. I’ll fill yall in tomorrow on why I’m done with that bamma. I ended up getting asked out by this new dude (who I haven’t come up with a name for yet, so we’ll just call him New Dude for the sake of this post).

We went to this Thai restaurant Sala Thai. We ordered “shrimp tempura” as an appetizer which turned out to just be fried shrimp which was fine. But they threw in other fried vegetables like broccoli. Who fries broccoli? That’s some ghetto shit. Oh and it was nasty. I tried to be experimental and get some red curry shrimp but what came out was indeed red and curry flavored, but the texture resembled something pureed and I had to send that back.

By the time my replacement Pad Thai came I wasn’t even hungry so I just took a few bites and wrapped the rest up for leftovers. Score! Lunch for Friday! I hadn’t been to the grocery store in a minute so this was a good thing. After dinner he took me home and walked me to my door. I hate the end of first dates because you always have that awkward moment. Like should I hug him, kiss him, or what? We ended up hugging and finished with a small peck (no tongue!)

Friday morning I woke up and went to Ross to search for something cute to wear this weekend. It’s Howard Homecoming. I tried a few things on and I did get a cute dress. But I was so irritated with my hair that I went up to the beauty supply store in the shopping center up the street from my house and I discover that they have a salon in the back. I ask how much to rectify the crap on my head and since their price doesn’t give me a heart attack I agree. I felt bad about the $200 that I wasted on those braids, but I’m feeling plump and there’s no reason to feel fat and ugly, so the braids had to go.

They get to taking out my braids. By about ¾ way through I realize that they’ve chopped off more than just the weave and have wacked off a good two or three inches of my hair. I was hurt at first, but then I let it go thinking maybe this is the catalyst I need to really go through with going natural. Besides no one is going to see my real hair for a long time anyway.

Saturday was low key. I slept late and caught up with some TV online. Thank you Hulu! New Dude invited me over for a Blockbuster Night. Since we already had a real date I wasn’t as vehemently opposed to the idea as I normally would be. It definitely felt like more than him just trying to get some and here’s why:

A. He wasn’t just trying to bum on my couch. He picked me up (from the boonies of Silver Spring) and we went to his place in Fort Washington. That’s a lot of driving just to get a lil boo-tay. Most dudes just be trying to plop their asses on my couch before they pull the D out.
B. We actually WENT to Blockbuster. It was fun actually walking around and selecting a movie and chatting with the Blockbuster staff. We picked up Forgetting Sarah Marshall and he bought me this gigantic bag of peanut M&Ms.
C. He bought dinner. It was from this place that was pretty much an upgraded carryout, but it seemed pretty nice. I mean they had seating and a bar, but the “Paninis” that we ordered I swear were nothing more than grilled cheese sandwiches that they threw some grilled chicken on. That bread was definitely not Ciabatta.
D. He didn’t get mad when I fell asleep. I’m kind of a narcoleptic, or maybe it was just the itis from that grilled cheese with chicken sandwich, but I fell asleep during the movie. The parts I saw were really funny. I’ll try to find that online so I can watch the rest of it.
E. He got turned on while we were cuddling, but he “adjusted” and said, “It’ll pass.” That’s certainly not something you hear very much from dudes these days. I gave him some later that night off the strength of his willpower. That and the fact that I might be a bit of a horny toad.

Sunday was blah. I went grocery shopping and waged war against some fruit flies that decided to try and take up residence in my apartment. I did get these amazing purple boots that I’m going to rock this weekend.

Oh and here are some pics from that blogger meet up. Enjoy!

On to the Take ‘em Back Tuesday portion, finally. Back in June I was on this whole I’m going out on my own and I’m gonna meet me some men kick. So one Friday night I got dressed up in these shorts, stilettos and a cute shirt that put the cleavage on display and drove out to this lounge in Bethesda. I went to the bar to redeem my free drink tickets and had a martini.

As I’m sipping my drink I wanted to kick myself for placing myself between what I thought were two couples. The “couple” on my left were a young pair and the one on my right were a bit older. I looked over at a table of seemingly available men and admonish myself for not going over to that corner of the bar. But I sit tight and the older couple on the right gets their drinks and move on. Great now there’s open space for men to stroll up and opportunity to strike up conversation. No luck. The next set of bar dwellers is a group of three girls. I need them to move because they are decreasing my chances of meeting an eligible bachelor.

I glance back over to my left and I notice that the male half of that younger “couple” is eying me up. I’m like wow. That’s rude. A few moments later I glance back over and the chick is gone. He catches my eye and starts talking to me, asking if it was my first time there and what not. I’m thinking to myself, “Is this dude really gonna try to holla at me while his girl is in the bathroom?” but I’m playing polite and keep talking. He then offers up that it was his first time at the spot too and that his “friend” brought him there because she wanted to go out and didn’t want to go out alone. Then he starts complimenting me on my appearance and the fact that I’ve come out alone. He’s cute so I’m feeling all flattered right. But then he divulges that he’s 22 and has a like a two year old son. Then I’m feeling all cougarish. But I still I end up dancing with him and giving him my number. He left after a while but I stayed and met more people.

The next day Lil Daddy calls and invites me out after work. I agree and we meet up in downtown Bethesda where we met. We were gonna go to another lounge in the area. We get there and paid $20 each to get in only to discover that it was some sort of Nigerian night and they were only playing international music. So not the business. So we left. We were going to check out a movie, but we’d already missed the last show so we just walked around downtown Bethesda instead. After a while my feet started to hurt so we went back to our cars and he’s like well we could go to my spot and watch this Katt Williams special. I agree and we get in his car and head to his house.

So we get there and of course you know as soon as he popped in the DVD I was knocked out. We woke up the next day and watched Sanford and Son reruns on TV Land and cuddled up in bed. Sometime around mid-afternoon we start hearing banging on the door. He lives with a roommate so at first I thought it might have been him locked out or something. But when he doesn’t make a move to go see what’s up I start to get suspicious. The banging moves from the front door to his window and now I’m like what the hell is going on. For five minutes straight he let’s this banging go ignored. So finally I’m like aren’t you going to see what that is. He’s like yea I already know who it is. But he still doesn’t move. So I say, “Well who is it?” He casually answers, “My baby mama.” Keep in mind there’s still banging going on as we’re having this conversation. I’m like you need to handle that. He’s like I don’t feel like dealing with her today. I say to him, “You can’t just leave her standing out there. What if there’s an emergency with your son?”

Finally Lil Daddy gets up, throws on some sweats and heads out to deal with his baby mama. I can hear them yelling at each other but can’t make out exactly what they’re saying so I turn the TV up to drown out the noise. He was out there for about 40 minutes and I’m in there trying to figure out how I can get out of there before this chick goes psycho and tries to storm in the house. But considering that we’re in Gaithersburg and my car is in Bethesda I’m trapped. So I just ride it out. Eventually Lil Daddy comes back in and is visibly angry and muttering about how he didn’t want to go out there because he knew it was going to be nothing but arguing. So I ask him what they were arguing about and he’s like she wanted to drop his son off but she didn’t check with him first.

Then it hits me. It’s friggin Father’s Day! Of course she was going to try and have their son spend some time with his father on the day nationally designated for that kind of thing. Duh! He said that he was going to pick him up later, but I’m still astounded that he’s sent her away and goes back to business as usual. Lil Daddy pulls out this carryout menu and orders food for the two of us. Afterwards he takes me back to my car and I drive home thanking the Lord that things didn’t go any worse.

101 things about me

2008-10-09T17:22:00.003-04:00

This is probably more than you ever wanted to know about me, but read it anyway. LOL.

1. I’m 26.
2. I’m black.
3. I’m female.
4. I have five sisters and 1 brother.
5. I met three of those sisters for the first time last year.
6. None of my siblings are full blood to me.
7. None of that matters to me.
8. I’m a momma’s girl.
9. I haven’t met my bio dad even though he lives in Md.
10. He wants to meet me but I keep saying I’m not ready.
11. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
12. I was born in Brooklyn, NY
13. I grew up in Decatur (where it’s greater) Ga.
14. I was the valedictorian of my high school.
15. It helped me get scholarships,
16. I came to the DMV to go to Howard. Go Bison!
17. The city sucked me in and I haven’t left yet.
18. I live in Silver Spring now.
19. I moved there after my roomy left me to go to law school.
20. We used to live in Largo.
21. I’m a Congressional reporter (people always seem fascinated by that), that's why I always have that random "I should consult my local Congressman" line.
22. I did ask him to approve this list.
23. I write because I’m happy, I write because I’m free. (thanks Sojourner Truth and Phyllis Wheatley!)
24. I started a novel.
25. I haven’t gotten past the prologue.
26. My favorite color is purple.
27. I love cheese.
28. I put it on almost everything.
29. It’s the reason I can’t lose weight.
30. I’m a vegetarian nine days at a time when I try to lose weight.
31. I need to start that up again.
32. I haven’t been to the gym since August.
33. My jeans can tell.
34. When I feel fat I only buy shoes, handbags, and accessories (they always work no matter what size I am.)
35. I love costume jewelry.
36. I’m a MAC girl.
37. I love old school R&B.
38. I always have random song lyrics in my head.
39. I quote them in all kinds of conversations.
40. I don’t have cable.
41. I buy DVDs instead.
42. As much money as I spend on DVDs I could have cable.
43. But I’m not home enough to watch it.
44. So I’ll just get those digital TV converter boxes.
45. I need two of them.
46. I’m waiting on my coupons from the government to buy them.
47. They will save me $40 per box.
48. I like saving money on things.
49. I have a hard time saving actual money.
50. I need to be better at that in this economy.
51. I wonder if anything is left in my 401K?
52. Doesn’t matter, I’m riding it out like Suzie Orman says.
53. I’m young I have time to regroup.
54. My favorite movie is When Harry Met Sally.
55. I’m such a sucker for romantic comedies.
56. They make me cry every time.
57. I cried the other morning watching a segment on Good Morning America of Robin Roberts’ breast cancer when Diane Sawyer brought her Popeyes on the last day of her treatment.
58. I love Popeyes—but I’ll only get the spicy kind.
59. It’s hard for me to choose between the red beans and rice and fries.
60. It normally takes me like 20 minutes to pick something off a restaurant menu no matter how many times I’ve been there.
61. When I’m at home and I can’t decide what to eat I don’t.
62. I like to cook.
63. I make a great sweet potato pie.
64. My mac and cheese is off the hook.
65. I make it from scratch, no Kraft box shit in my house.
66. I actually live in an apartment.
67. My rent goes up next month. FUCKERS.
68. Most men in my life fall in the FUCKER category.
69. That’s why I started my Random Negro Stories File.
70. I can’t wait to meet the man that doesn’t warrant one of those blog entries.
71. I’mma jump for joy.
72. I often jump too quickly.
73. When I meet a new guy that I like I start thinking of our “how we met story” for that B.I.O. column in the Washington Post Express.
74. I love that column.
75. It used to be the highlight of my Fridays.
76. I’d eagerly grab one from the Express men at the Metro.
77. But I hate holding the paper after I’m done with it so I don’t pick it up anymore.
78. I also like that Wash Post column Date Lab. (HE-LAR-EEE-US stuff)
79. I’m addicted to blogs.
80. I like looking at photos of myself.
81. I get a new weave about once a month.
82. I have microbraids at the moment.
83. I don’t know why I got them because I don’t like them.
84. I’m deathly afraid of pigeons.
85. I’m scared they're gonna shat on my head.
86. I don’t like animals in general.
87. My boss at my PT gig adopted a monkey for me.
88. I’ve recently grown fond of Moscato.
89. I mix it with ginger ale for a wine spritzer.
90. Yes I know that’s ghetto.
91. No I don’t care.
92. I mix most of my alcoholic drinks with ginger ale.
93. My favorite though is a bonecrusher.
94. When bars don’t have bonecrushers I get a zombie.
95. I ended up in the drunk tank at Love after too many blue muthafuckas.
96. I’m sort of a belligerent drunk.
97. I talk mad shit.
98. I’m pretty sure I can’t back it up.
99. I’m only 5’2.
100. I weigh…
101. Hahaaha you didn’t really think I was gonna put that on the Internet did you?

Take ‘em Back Tuesdays: Umm 'scuse Me But Where's My Lube?

2008-10-07T12:40:00.002-04:00

Hey guys, I introduce to you today new series that I hope I can keep up. Take ‘em Back Tuesdays. These will be old stories that deserve to be in the Random Negro Stories File but somehow (probably because I was too lazy) didn’t end up on my blog. On to today's story.

Some time after the Christmas holidays last year I was talking to this guy. So we’re at my house and get to messing around and dude pulls out some lubricant. The bottle is unmarked, but he recently moved back home with his parents and assured me that it was Durex. He said that he took the label off so his nosy mother wouldn't find it and be all up in his business about what it was and why he needs it.

So he lathers the condom up and we go start to go to town. I start smelling something medicated. I'm like is that MINT? At this point my pu is starting to tingle more than a little, bit and it's mad uncomfortable. Thoughts flash across my mind about a friend of mine, who was messing around with some dude that was eating her out with a listerine strip in his mouth and almost burnt her damn clit off. So I'm like no not me. I never hopped of a D faster in my life. I need to write my local Congressman and try to get that stuff banned. Anyway I go to my personal stash, get my regular KY and make him change the condom and all that. All is good with the world or so it seems.

We lay around in bed, and talk and laugh and joke and everything. Later that afternoon he's getting ready to go but stops to use the bathroom. I start straightening up my room cuz sheets and pillows and stuff are everywhere. Then I notice it. His MINTY ass lube is still sitting on my dresser, but my KY has gone missing. I look all over, under the bed, in the sheets, every crack or crevice it might have fallen into. No luck.

So ListerLube (yea that’s what we’ll call him) comes out the bathroom. I'm like hey, did you see where my lube went? He gets on hands and knees pretending (I gather later) to look for it. Jokingly I say, I don't have to pat you down do I? He says no, but in a shifty sort of way that makes me really do it. So as he stands in front of me I go through his pockets and lo and behold I find my lube. I can't friggin believe it. I'm like dude you were really gonna steal from me? He was like its not stealing, its an even exchange, gesturing towards his unmarked ass bottle still on my dresser. I grab it, thrust it at him and say take this to whatever bitch you're gonna be fucking because it ain't gonna be me. Then I tell him to get the fuck out of my house.

He leaves, and I'm still stunned, that this negro would stoop so low as to steal a $5 bottle of lube. Are you effin kidding me? Who does that? Yall tell me he was crazy and that normal people really wouldn't do such a thing.

Weekend in Review

2008-10-06T22:27:00.000-04:00

I never do weekend wrap-ups. Hell most times I feel like I have to update y'all on months worth of the random stories of my life. But in an effort to blog more often here goes.

Friday I was so excited to be off Bailout Watch 2008 I celebrated by spending way too much money at Ross. Oh well. I needed fall/winter clothes. I ordered Papa Johns and sat on my couch and drank wine coolers. Nice and ghetto. But I was on chill mode because I had to return to my part time job in the morning.

Saturday after work I went to a blogger meet up. It's cool but weird to finally meet people that know all about you and you know all about them but you've never laid eyes on each other. I worried going in if people were going to think I was as cool as my blog, but I got over that. Everyone (SuperDave, Sista Socialite, E2Deep, 1/3, Brran1, Kayellejay and Leon) was real chill. I wanna hang out again. But next time I gotta get a better seat so I don't have to have SuperDave translate for me all night. I couldn't hear ish. At one point Leon was telling a story about "his Force"and I swore he was talking about a horse coming out of his body. *stomp, stomp. Alma! Check your battery* I was going to post pics but blogger is acting stupid.

I spent the rest of my Saturday night and most of Sunday dodging a booty call. A dude I messed with eons ago (let's call him TSX--cuz that's what he drives) had hit me up on Friday talking about if I "got free" this weekend to hit him up. Long after we stopped messing around we remained lunch buddies and would chat on work email from time to time. So I'm thinking cool we can hang out. But of course he had a different type hang out in mind. So we're texting back and forth laughing at the Palin-Biden skit on SNL and then he's like what you up to for the rest of the night. I'm like nothing I'm chillin' what about you? He's texts back "oral pleasure." So I'm like wow. It's not everyday I get chomp offered up over text so I'm all excited. Who can turn that down? Come to find out this bamma was talking about him. I instantly got turned off. He may as well have typed "lemme put my dick in your mouth." And that's so not appropriate for someone you're just getting back in touch with. I mean damn. It’s one thing to offer up your services, but isn’t it a little presumptuous to ask for someone else’s? I’m just saying. I'm going to consult my local Congressman on the rules for asking for head. I'm sure he can provide a viable ruling.

Anyway I quit texting back. Sunday morning he sent me another text asking why I stopped texting back. I told him I fell asleep. Which was true. He kept asking what was up for that day and I was like well I have something to do and he was like well how about later on. How you gonna be pressed for some head?

Random Negro Stories File: The Re-Holla

2008-10-01T15:58:00.003-04:00

Dudes. I’m really going to need for you to keep up with who you try to holla at on the Internet and the stories you tell them because I’m real tired of being the victim of the re-holla. No not the kind where you holla I shoot you down and you try again. I’m talking about the kind where you holla I shoot you down and you try again—as if the you had never even tried to holla in the first place.

I realize that I change my weave quite often and that I have a somewhat changing face, but I don’t look that damn different. Still, all the information on my profiles on all the sites I’m on are the same. So READ before you holla—or try to re-holla.

Why am I on this soapbox today you ask? Well I’ve been writing this blog for a few weeks actually. (Sorry for the hiatus guys I’ve been stuck in this legislative nightmare I’m calling Bailout Watch 2008.) My initial entry was inspired by this dude that hit me with this note on Myspace:

Subject: Loving everything that you are...
Body: Hey Beautiful,

just trying to see how I can take you off of the single list...LOL I love your page and hope that maybe I can get to know you better. Maybe get to see that smile of yours up close.

How sweet. Not. Well it would have been cute, if only he hadn’t sent a similar message oh let’s say a year and a half ago. I still have his number from the first time he hit me up. I should have sent him a text saying hey just got your message on Myspace. That would have freaked him out. But I just sent him a note asking how this would be different from the last time that he tried to holla. I saw that he read the note, but declined to respond.

Foolishness!

But now I’m updating this because in the span of the three weeks or so that I’ve been writing this blog I’ve been the victim of a carbon copy reholla twice.

I signed up for this free online dating site (Thanks Young Woman) and I’m going through my messages and I recognize the pic from this dude that tried to holla at me on Myspace, in like early August. So I’m already irritated because dude, let’s call him AlphaMan, first invited me out to get drinks but when I declined because of a prior engagement he downgraded the next invitation to watching DVDs at his house, which I declined. I’ll stay off my soapbox for now about how that is not a date. So I’m like what does this bamma want?

So I click on the message and I start reading. I’ve copied and pasted it below for your reading pleasure:

smiles at her*
Sooooo.... how is your Tuesday coming along so far? As for me, my day is fairing along pretty swell. Now how I started it, is a good thing to me. *grinnin* Let's see, how should I put this? Let's just say my jump off started by getting up around 4:00 this morning to run my gruesome/challenging 3.00 miles in about 19 mins that's on the treadmill at between 9.0 & 9.5. But outside I may run it in about 22 mins.

*licks his tongue out at her* But you know what, I actually just returned back here to Maryland from a 3 month hiatus in Gulfport, Mississippi Had to go there from Iraq to demobilize from an 8 month tour of duty in Iraq. Now I'm finally back. Thank Jesus. YEEEEESSS....

Let's see what else can I share with you? Okay, my name is AlphaMan *as he extends his right hand out to shake hers* Currently I reside in the Metro DC arena (Cheverly, MD). I'm originally from Arkansas after completing college(University Of Arkansas At Pine Bluff) where I majored in Computer Science and currently work with a company in Virginia as a IT/Software Consultant. Out of college I completed a 5 years in Germany in the Army, got tired of it and got out.

Hmmm... what else, oh I love working out (as I've made known above right) *LHBO* I'm about 6'1 and 194 pounds. I mean don't get intimidated or scurd, just because I do all of this (FOR ME) doesn't mean you have to.*LOL* Just take care of yourself is all I ask. Meaning at least eat right sometimes and some have sort of workout regime. *smilin* Have I turned you off now? I'm not trying to, just being honest.

Okay, I'll stop here. I mean if nothing else I make a heckuva friend. *winks at her

Half way through the first paragraph I’m like wait not only is this bamma acting like I’m a brand new chick but he’s gonna use the same message exact he sent the first time to do it? Oh hell naw. Wait. Let me be clear and fair. It wasn’t the same exact message. AlphaMan had taken the time to customize the day in the introduction. How considerate.

So I wrote him back saying, “You know. I thought this was cute the first time you sent it to me on Myspace. But now I'm mad that I fell for your cut and paste antics.”

He writes back offering up this lame excuse:

Naaaaaaaaah..... it's not like that. I just remembered you and didn't want to re-type what I sent to you before. I only added that I just got back from Iraq about 8 days ago now. Was gone for 14 months. Go check the pics out on my page at www.blackpeoplemeet.com and my screen name is ******.

Call me please IF you don't mind. If not, I respect that.

I call bullshit. If you really remembered me you would have typed a long time to speak type message. Not an introduction all over again. And to add insult to injury you’re going to lie about your whereabouts? Oh you just got back from Iraq? So how is it that you were asking me out in August?

Noooooooo... I was sending you messages from Gulfport, Mississippi. Listen I have no reason to lie nor to explain myself. I hate the internet. I'm attempting to be honest with you. I will say this, we flew in from Iraq in May back here to the U.S We flew in to New Orleans Airport and was transported to the Naval Base in Gulfport where we were demobilizing from May til August.

Now take that and believe it or not. Your choice.

Take Care.

I declined to respond. Just when I thought I was through with this bamma, I log into my account today and get yet another message from this dude. I.Kid.You.Not. Here it is in its redundant glory:

*smiles at her & gives her a slight wink for her sexiness & Class*
*as he leans back into his chair, knowing he has Swaggah going on, to match her sexiness & class* *grinnin*

Sooooo.... how is your Wednesday *HUMPDAY) coming along thus far as they call it? *grinnin* Tell you what, my day is swinging along pretty. Let's see, how should I put this, well before I got my morning started I was up around 4:00 a.m this morning to run my gruesome/challenging 3.00 miles in about 19 mins that's on the treadmill at between 9.0 & 9.5. But outside I may run it in about 25 mins & then get to the gym to personal train my clients.

*licks his tongue out at her* But you know what, I actually just returned back here to Maryland from a 3 month hiatus in Gulfport, Mississippi Had to go there from Iraq to demobilize from an 8 month tour of duty in Iraq. Now I'm finally back. Thank Jesus. YEEEEESSS....

Let's see what else can I share with you? Okay, my name is AlphaMant. *as he extends his right hand out to shake hers* Currently I reside in the Metro DC arena (Cheverly, MD). I'm originally from Arkansas after completing college(University Of Arkansas At Pine Bluff) where I majored in Computer Science and currently work with a company in Virginia as a IT/Software Consultant. Out of college I completed a 5 years in Germany in the Army, got tired of it and got out.

Hmmm... what else, oh I love working out. I'm about 6'1 and 198 pounds. I mean don't get intimidated or scurd, just because I do all of this (FOR ME) doesn't mean you have to.*LOL* Just take care of yourself is all I ask. Meaning at least eat right sometimes and some have sort of workout regime. *smilin* Have I turned you off now? I'm not trying to, just being honest.

Okay, I'll stop here. I mean if nothing else I make a heckuva friend. *winks at her*

Your New Friend,
AlphaMan

I’m starting to take this personally. Am I so unmemorable that this dude actually thinks that I’m a new person, or is he just a geriatric (he’s 38 by the way) with a bad case of Alzheimer’s? Hopefully my local Congressman will vote for the mental health parity legislation that they are attaching to the Wall Street Bailout bill because typing the same message over and over again to different girls is one thing, but typing the same message over and over to one girl is a bit much. What in the frick!

Just the Little Games That We Play

2008-08-27T10:31:00.000-04:00

I’m reading a book called, “How to Love a Black Man.” It’s written by a black man so I figured it must be good because who would know better how to love a black man than a black man.

So I’m all excited about the book. I’ve diagnosed what type of love substitute I most exhibit and have delved into how to combat it. I come to a chapter in the book titled, “Avoid All Game-Playing and Hidden Agendas.” It’s all about how sexual games, money games and power games are all bad and how you should just be upfront with your man. Ok. I can respect that.

Not even two chapters later the author tells me “Never Be Too Easy to Get.” What? Didn’t you just tell me not to play games? Now I’m confused. According to the latter chapter I should, “Gladly pick up the phone—but not on the first ring,” “Say yes to invitations—but not all of them,” “Speak freely—but don’t share every thought in your head.”

I get that he’s trying to help me not present myself to a man as desperate, but I still don’t understand how those actions do not constitute the power games he was just advising me not to play? Isn’t it all just a ploy to get the man to want me more because people always want what they can’t have? Wouldn’t that indeed make it a power game?

I’ve never been good at these kinds of things. If a guy I’m interested in calls and wants to go out with me why would I not accept his invitation? I mean I’m not going to go around canceling plans just to go out with some guy, but if I had nothing planned but sitting at home on my couch to watch DVDs am I really supposed to turn down his invite, knowing I really want to go, just to prove some point? Why does this make sense? The only thing this does is have me sitting on my couch eating Turkey Hill Party Cake Ice Cream hoping that whoever he called next that had the good sense to accept his invitation doesn’t ruin my chance at being with this man.

Male readers: step out from the shadows and comment on this blog because I’m genuinely confused. Don’t make me have to call my local Congressman to institute a draft for this!

The Date That Went Well

2008-08-25T15:01:00.004-04:00

I finally have something positive to blog about concerning a man. So I figured I better write this blog while I still have something good to say about him. LOL.

I had a really nice date on Friday. Gasp.

One of my eHarmony/Myspace searches came up fruitful. I messaged him told him why I was contacting him via Myspace rather than eHarmony. It helped that he had initiated contact on eHarmony, so I knew he was at least somewhat interested in me. He took my outreach (which some of you may think of as stalking) in stride, said he thought I was cute and was interested in getting to know me. Yay!

A little about this guy: he’s 27, a Mason (so we’ll call him The Mason), and went to a technical school in upstate N.Y. and works in IT. No kids, non-smoker, social drinker.

So we chit chat, message each other and are seemingly getting along well. This goes on for about a week. So one day I send him a message with the subject line “Congratulations The Mason, you are the winner of a brand new...” and the message said, “message from me. LOL. How are you doing?”

He wrote back, “Man, and I was hoping for a brand new...big wet kiss.”

I write back, “Hmmm, how will you ever win that if you don't ever ask me out?”

That's right I went for it. I mean if eHarmony thinks we're a match and we're having good myspace conversations then why aren't we getting this show on the road?

He says he does really want to see me but that his schedule is pretty much devoid of free time at the moment. He asks what my schedule is like and after a little back and forth we agree to meet up on Friday to go bowling. He said he had some meeting that he had to go to so 10 o’clock is the earliest we can meet up. I agree because I’m really interested in meeting this guy.

However our agreed upon time leaves me with a big gap of time to fill since I decide I’m not going to trek all the way home and have to fight to make it back out to D.C. So I head to Pentagon City to Zales to get a necklace I got for Christmas fixed. I walked all around Pentagon City, ended up at the Marshalls and Borders across the street from the mall, but time is being cruel. It seems like the clock is ticking backwards. So I ended up taking Super Dave’s suggestion to go see The Dark Knight. It was outstanding! I was never so glad to be in a two and a half hour movie.

Sidebar: I know I’m hella late and this may sound crazy, but those of you who regularly read this blog should come to expect this kind of thing from me. I think it’s a good thing that Heath Ledger died after his role as the Joker. He was way too convincing. Like I had a hard time remembering that there was a real man under all that makeup. I have no idea how he was going to acclimate himself back to the real world. So RIP Heath. You were amazing.

But back to my original story. It’s quarter to 10 and The Mason texts me that he’s on the way. Yay. About 20 minutes later he says he’s looking for parking and by quarter to 11, we’re face to face.

We get to Lucky Strike and they tell us the wait for lanes is an hour and a half. No dice. He asks me if I’ve eaten. I tell him how I’ve done everything in the world waiting for this date to start but eat, so we end up going to Friday’s. We had good chemistry. No real awkward silences and we kept each other laughing with various commentary on randomness and dating stories. Y’all know I have plenty.

We finish up our meal and then head to another bowling alley. It’s closed. At this point it’s a little after midnight so our options for continuing the night are pretty limited. I suggest going to a lounge or something and he says ok, but we can’t decide which one is good on Friday nights or if it’s worth going so late. So we’re driving by the National Mall and I suggest walking around the Washington Monument and scaring white people. He says he’s all about it. Insert awwwww here.

So we park and start walking up and a white guy and girl are passing us by on bike. I say boo in their direction in a kinda low voice, but dude doesn’t back me up. So I nudge him and he’s like what. I’m like you didn’t back me up. I thought we were here to scare white people. He’s like aww my bad, you caught me off guard. We walk over to the benches surrounding the monument, sit and talk and instead of scaring white people we make up stories about them.

It’s a really fun game. I’m going to start watching C-Span with the TV on mute (sans closed caption) and make up what my local Congressman is saying. It’ll probably be better than what he’s actually saying.

Anyway at the Monument, there was this one lady had this huge camera and was taking pics of the bottom bricks, so we dubbed her an archaeologist and said that she was going to take the evidence back to her lab and announce some discovery at a press conference next week. LOL.

We stayed there for a while, but then he had to use the bathroom, so we left and he took me home. On the way he kept looking at me and said with some what of an amazed voice “Your face is so clear.” I was like thank you I work hard on that.

Anyway we get to my house and I let him use the bathroom. We stood at my door for a minute and he had that same look on his face as he did in the car, so I ask him what he's thinking. So he says I'm thinking about how I have really attractive lips and how you're not supposed to kiss on the first date. I say to him, “Who said that.” Then he leans in and kisses me and it was really nice. He left and I hopped in bed.

A few minutes later I get a text from him saying, “It was tough leaving.” I let that go unanswered. The next day I woke up and saw he had sent another text like 30 minutes later, saying he was curious to know if he could have stayed. I responded later in the day saying I don’t think that would have been a good idea. He asked why and I said I’ve been down that road and I don't like where it leads. He said he didn't want sex, but he was just enjoying my company and didn't want to leave...hmmm...I don’t doubt that he really enjoyed my company, but I didn't trust myself to not let things go down so he had to go. We’ve texted since then and are trying to figure out when to go out next. Yay!

Lunchin'

2008-08-20T13:44:00.004-04:00

I think this man tried to kidnap me.

We were exchanging messages on Myspace. He said he was off work today and wanted to "bring me lunch." Really? Bring me lunch? That should have been my first clue that he was crazy. I'm not trusting no man to bring me anything to eat that I didn't see where it came from.

We exchanged numbers and I suggested we meet at 12:30, but he signed off before I really confirmed that he was actually coming. So I went to lunch with Super Dave. Y'all know since Iraq I have issues with believing people are actually going to show up. But as luck would have it as I'm sitting and eating and chatting I get a text...at 12:45.

"I'm here" it says. Shit! This bamma really showed up. I tell Super Dave sorry for having to eat and run, but it would be rude to not show up. So I text him tell him I was running late but was on my way.

I call him. He greets me with a French accent. Damn, should have figured that from his name. I'm not a fan of the ESOLs (English to Speakers of Other Languages).

I should have stayed at the Billy Goat Tavern.

Still I tell Frenchie where I am and he says he drove, but couldn't find a parking space. Finally (after much deciphering of his accent...see why I don't mess with the ESOLs.) I figure out that he's near the taxi stand outside of Union Station. He pulls up to me and I'm like well what are you going to do with your car. He's like I don't know and then is like get in.

*Eff what Rhianna said. Please stop the music. Hold up wait a minute. Don't stop. Get it get it* Did this bamma just ask me to get in his car? I must be tripping because I know this bamma did not just ask me to get in his car.

He looks at me for the answer, and I look back at him like he's crazy and tell him I'm not getting in his car. He's like he understands but can't find parking so he leaves.

I walk away stunned that he really thought I was just gonna hop in his car. I'm not trying to end up like the victim of some America's Most Wanted episode. You should be able to do background checks on Myspace. I need to call my local Congressman about that.

Pay to Play

2008-08-18T10:24:00.003-04:00

I did some cyber stalking this weekend. Yea I know I talked about chick who cyber stalked Friendship and Fun through me, sue me. I never said I was above cyber stalking. I just don't go as far as contacting women I suspect are involved with a man I'm dealing with. I go directly to the source.

Anyway. My cyber stalking this weekend wasn't about trying to find out what someone was up to, but just to find someone. I quasi signed up for eHarmony (read: I made a profile, uploaded a photo, but couldn't bring myself to fork over the cash for the service). Well anyway I guess in hopes of getting me to part with my money they send me my matches. I can read all about them, but can't see their photos or communicate with them.

So I pulled out my cyber stalking/reporting tools. Myspace to the rescue! I tracked down this one guy looking up his first name, age, and location listed on eHarmony on Myspace. Comparing the personal information from the site, I pinpointed the guy, looked at his pics and decided he was cute. I sent him a message on Myspace explaining that I figured out he was my match, but I don't pay for the service so I thought I'd contact him this way. Besides eHarmony says we're a match, and he started the communication process with me, so I thought it was worth the risk. Then I realized something, dude's last log in on Myspace was in March of 2007. The potential love of my life was not likely to get this message anytime soon, if ever. What was I to do?

A closer look at his Myspace page yielded me his last name and a Facebook search granted me...contact information! People leave themselves wide open to this kind of stuff. I debated sending him an email, but thought it would look crazy to get an email from someone that shouldn't have your contact information. I mean sending a Myspace note is one thing, but an email? I'd be freaked out to get an email from someone who's not supposed have my email address. I called one of my male advisors. He doesn't answer. I reach out to another. He confirms that it is indeed crazy to send an email. I settle for adding him as a buddy on yahoo messenger, completely forgetting that yahoo alerts you that someone is trying to save you as a friend. SHIT! Five minutes later I get an instant message.

eHarmonyguy: hello
me: hi
me: i'm CocaColaCutie* your match on eHarmony.
eHarmonyguy: oh hey
insert his delayed reaction to realizing that I shouldn't have been able to "contact" him
eHarmonyguy: how did you know my messenger name?
insert my feelings of shame and awkward silence
me: long story
eHarmonyguy: indulge me
me: i hope you take this as flattery...

So I recounted how I had searched him and found him. He says that he's flattered and we continue the conversation. So we're chit chatting about what we're up to for the day. I should mention that in the midst of our conversation I kept getting disconnected from yahoo messenger. So he's like, you're having issues over there I guess that means you'll just have to come over. Damn it not another one of those guys. So I say "by come over you mean meet in a neutral place right." He replies, "if you need to." Then he informs that he's not looking for anything serious.

Then why the Fuck are you on eHarmony? GRRRRRRR. Why would you pay for a service (and I know he paid because he could communicate with me I just couldn't communicate back) that promises to "deliver matches that have the foundation of compatibility necessary for a lifetime of joy," if you are not, as he said, "looking for anything serious?" Why not troll for hoes for free on Myspace like most guys "not looking for anything serious"? Why infect the atmosphere at eHarmony, creating false hope? Boo to that guy. I wish there was some way I could get my local Congressman to regulate that, but I suppose that's more of a moral issue.

I just said thank you for letting me know and closed the match. Now I really don't have the motivation to give eHarmony my money. Not if that's what I'm going to be exposed to. I can get that for free.

*names have been changed to protect those involved, so what if it's just me.

How: My Favorite Question

2008-08-13T11:47:00.001-04:00

How do you stop wanting a man? Not a particular man, but one in general? Everyone keeps telling me it will come when I’m least expecting it. But that does me no good, because I’m constantly expecting it. So someone please tell me how to not expect it, because it’s driving me crazy. Every time I meet a new man I get uber excited and it crashes and burns. I make bad decisions. I’m too eager. I lose my cool. I need something else to wrap my thoughts around. It probably doesn’t help that I think I’m either shallow or picky. But I don’t really feel like I should have to settle for something I don’t want for the sake of having a man. I never want to look at my man and think maybe I could have done better for myself.

You’d think I would have stopped a long time ago, considering my Random Negro Stories, but no matter what I can’t stop wanting it. I think about it night and day. Thoughts of what it would be like to truly have someone love me and accept the love that I’m ready to give back. It’s consuming me. Help! No one so far has had the answer. Well maybe my local Congressman, but I haven’t talked to him yet. I’m having a hard time tracking him down since Congress is on recess.

I’ve tried doing other stuff to take my mind off it. Nope still there. It’s not even like I really have that much time on my hands. I have two jobs. I work six days a week. When I’m not working I’m either hanging out with friends or shopping. Sometimes both. I read, I write, and when I’m not being lazy I work out. I do my make up, make up cute outfits with accessories, only to wonder why cuz I don’t have any dates to wear them on. I watch DVDs while eating chicken and drinking wine. End up yelling at the TV about whatever no good man is in it or crying over why I can’t get one like the ones that got it right. I party, I dance, I drink only to end up hung over and sad that my bed is empty. I talk to my mom, my friends, my sisters, and hang up still feeling like I want a man. I guess it doesn’t matter where I am, or what I’m doing my mind always takes me there. So what am I to do? I get angry. I get frustrated. I get sad. I keep feeling like I’m never going to get my chance. But yet I’m still looking every chance I get. WTF is wrong with me?

Random Negro Stories File: Cyber Stalking

2008-08-07T12:10:00.002-04:00

Sometime last week I got a random friend request on Facebook. I had no idea where I could have known this chick from. The little blurb they show you on Facebook says she’s from ATL. So am I but I’m certain I don’t know this girl from my childhood. I’m thinking maybe I know her through this message board I belong to, but the name and face are not ringing a bell. So then I check to see who we know in common. The only person we both know (at least on Facebook) is my favorite random Negro: Friendship and Fun. Interesting.

So you know the wheels are turning in my head. I’m like out of all of his 1,500 some odd friends, how did this chick find me? And furthermore why is she interested in knowing who I am? But then I think back to the “I made it back safely ☺” message that I posted on his wall after I came back from Chicago. I guess to an outsider that could denote some sort of more than friendly relationship.

Now, I’m not gonna be all self-righteous and act like I haven’t done my share of cyber stalking, but I’ve never gone as far as to send a friend request to a chick to check out who dude may or not be dealing with. I do have some sense of shame. Anyway, after some consultation with a few of the members of my male roundtable, I send chick a note asking her who she is. She doesn’t respond.

So yesterday I’m talking to Friendship and Fun and I tell him, "Oh I think this girl is trying to cyber stalk you through me." He asked, "who?" I couldn’t remember chick’s name so I looked it up on Facebook and told him. He was like oh I know her through this Greek message board, but she’s from Atlanta so how would she know you? Good question. I mean I am from Atlanta (by way of Brooklyn, NY) but as I said I’m sure she’s not someone I know from elementary, middle or high school and I’m not Greek, so that eliminates that circle. Then he reveals that she likes him and has offered up the booty. So it’s all crystal clear.

I wonder how many of the other girls posting on his wall got friend requests? I should start a Facebook group and ask my local Congressman to try and get us in the witness protection program. But it’s kind of flattering to be on the other end of a cyber stalk mission. Ha! People wanna know who I am! And I’m cute…shooot! This is kinda cool. I feel like I’ve upped my hater count by at least one. But like Katt Williams says, I gotta get five more before the summer is out, LMAO!

Dream Analysis: Sneaker Thieves

2008-08-05T17:10:00.003-04:00

This morning I woke up kicking. I kicked the shit out of the three or four purses laying on the edge of my bed. The thud woke me up from a dream that I was being jacked for some Polo sneakers. Cute ones too—white canvas with red trim around it. In the dream I was around middle school age, but the shoes being taken from me are ones I own now. Stop right there: No I haven’t had them since then.

From what I remember, I was at Payless trying on some sandals. I took one side of my sneakers off and walked away from it to go look at how they looked on my feet in one of those lil mirrors on the side of the bench where you sit down to try your shoes on. When I came back yall my shoe was gone. I’m like who the hell would steal one side of a shoe?

So I go looking around the store and come up on a girl who reminded me of those sneaky girls in middle school. You know the ones that look like they’re always up to something. I go up to her and ask if she knows what happened to my shoe and she’s like I don’t know what you’re talking about, with a smirk on her face. Ah hee hee hell. That bitch had my shoe. I just knew it. But I walk away. So then somehow both of my shoes are gone and I end up with these fugly Reeboks.

I walk around the store some more and see the same girl with my shoes, so I snatch them back from her. I put them on and take off running out the store. However, homegirl sent these two kids that were with her after me. One is a tall mannish looking girl and the other a tall skinny dude. So anyway they catch up to me, lift me up and try to snatch the shoes off my feet. So I started kicking and that’s when I woke up.

Sidebar: I actually went to middle school with my jackers in real life. The man-girl (who happened to have a thing for stealing) I recently saw on Facebook, but the dude, he was a total random reappearance.

That was some crazy dream and I really felt like it had to mean something more than me just losing some shoes that I didn’t even owned when I was in middle school.

So here’s what the good folks at DreamMoods.com think my dream meant.

Robbery
To dream that you have been robbed, denotes that you are experiencing an identity crisis or you are suffering some sort of loss in your life.

These people might be dead on. Lately I’ve been wondering what the hell it is I want to do with my professional life. I mean I love to write and covering Congress is cool and all, but I think I really need to get started on the novel(s) I’ve been kicking around in my head for the past few years. As for the loss part, maybe it’s the loss of my potential relationship. Boo!

Running
To dream that you are running away from someone, indicates an issue that you are trying to avoid. You are not taking or accepting responsibility for your actions. In particular, if you are running from an attacker or any danger, then it suggests that you are not facing and confronting your fears.

I don’t know what this could mean. Maybe it’s all going back to not yet getting started on those novels.

Kick
To dream that you are kicking someone, represents suppressed aggression that you are unable to express in your waking life.

Ok. Now I love the Dream Moods people. I’m still pissed about Iraq standing me up. That day I wanted to throw plates and glass and shit around just to hear them crash, but I thought to myself, who the hell is gonna clean all that shit up? So I didn’t. Coincidentally I took the Monday, after our date was supposed to happen, off and my friend suggested that we go on a rampage and just slap random people because that couldn’t get us into jail for very long. I almost called my local Congressman to see if he could draft up a quick resolution to make that ok, but I just ended up sleeping most of the day away.

Sneakers
To see or wear sneakers in your dream, suggests that you are approaching through life with ease and little obstacles. It also denotes comfort and satisfaction with yourself and who you are. Alternatively, the dream indicates that you lead an active life and is always on the go.

They were on a roll until now. I wouldn’t exactly say that my life is at ease. But I guess I do live an active life. I have two jobs. I hang out with my friends and I have been traveling a lot this summer. Ok. Dream Moods people. You get your kudos back.

Random Negro Stories File: Nick Namin’

2008-08-04T12:07:00.003-04:00

So on Saturday I was strolling down by Metro Center, wasting time before heading into my part time job. I see these two guys walking towards me. One of them was kinda cute but I’ve been in such a funky mood about guys that I just didn’t feel like being bothered. As I walk past though the cute one stops me looks me up and down and is like “Can I give you a nick name for the day? Lemme give you a nick name for the day.” I oblige for whatever reason and he says, “Tell your man to call you Mahogany.”

This tickles me because my friend, who also is going through some relationship drama, and I just watched Diana Ross’s Mahogany the other day. We drank wine and ate chicken, biscuits and potato salad from Cluck-U, while yelling at Billy Dee Williams for leaving her when she needed him most. Sidebar: I’ve got to stop eating chicken when I’m sad, but it’s so good! Ole punk moved back to Chicago to run for office. Made me not even want to call my local Congressman for anything else this week.

So when I met up with my friend at Macy’s I told her the story and joked that I was going to go home after work, drink wine and pour hot candle wax all over myself. Those of you who have seen the movie will appreciate that. If you haven’t, check it out. It’s a really fantastical film.

In other news, this guy I know from a previous job, we’ll call him Pies, sends me a text message asking where’s his pie. I had promised him like two years ago that I was going to make him a Sweet Potato Pie because I was raving about it after Thanksgiving that year. So we’re texting back and forth and some how he’s made the switch to asking for a different piece of pie and I’m not talking baked goods here. Men. I stopped texting him back when he started trying to arrange times.

Pies has been trying to get me to sleep with him for the past couple years, but I’ve just danced around the issue because I know he just wants that. At one point we were talking about going out, but over the course of the conversation he made it clear that he wasn’t really looking for anything serious. So I decided to let it go because it would really piss me off to have to go through the same sad story with him, and I need a break from the sad stories.

Random Negro Stories File: The Invisible Man

2008-08-01T15:09:00.002-04:00

So remember that relationship I was on the cusp of getting into? Well yea...we’re gonna scratch that from the record. Bad for me, but good for y’all, because what would this blog be if I weren't able to rant about all the ain't shit bammas I come across?

Add to the list Iraq. No he’s not really a foreign national, but he was (maybe still is) stationed there. He’s a Navy man. We met on Myspace a couple of months ago. I was bored and was searching for people to chat with over a Congressional recess. The pic he had posted had the nicest smile—almost rivaled mine, so I was intrigued. I sent him a note complimenting his smile and he wrote me back saying the same. We got to chatting and before too long we agreed to meet when he came back—which was supposedly last week.

We made all these grand plans to go to The Cheesecake Factory after I flew in from Chicago. He even called me the Tuesday and Wednesday before hand to confirm our Sunday date so I have no idea why I have yet to lay eyes on this brotha. I got home that Sunday from the airport and got a snack, took a nap, and logged on to see if he’d gotten my messages with my address. He did. So I’m figuring ok, well let me go ahead and get dressed because he should be here soon. So it’s six p.m.—our previously agreed upon time and he hasn't shown up yet. No worries, I kinda live in the boonies and my apt building is hard to find. Six-thirty comes. Nothing. Seven p.m. Still nothing. Why didn't you call him and see what’s going on you ask? Because I couldn't. Since he was overseas he didn't have a cell phone, so whenever we talked on the phone he called. By Seven-thirty I’d changed my clothes, ran up to this chicken spot called Cluck-U and sulked while scarfing down 10 traditional hot wings—with Ranch dressing. You should be proud of me though I didn't pop in When Harry Met Sally, my go to movie for my sad moments.

The next morning I send him a note on Myspace asking if everything was ok with him and to let me know what was up. I've never been stood up before so I've run the gamut of emotions on this one. First I was sad. Then angry. Like really, you’re just not gonna show up? But then I thought to myself maybe he's not back on American soil yet. Maybe he’s angry that he's still over there and is shutting me out. I almost wrote my local Congressman to see if he could get me on a convoy trip to Iraq so I could try to find him.

That was the best I could come up with to not feel like the whole thing was a sham. It's what I told myself for the past week to not feel duped by a guy that for two months called me beautiful, told me that he felt a connection with me and feigned excitement about meeting me. Hours after I sent the are you ok message I saw that he read it and thus far he has not responded. He logged in today and still nothing. It’s taking everything out of me to not send him a good cuss out message. I can’t lie, most of me is hoping that he’ll have a good explanation and that I’ll be able to go back to my happy "ooh isn't romance great" world.

Most of the folks I've told this story to is like oh just get over it, it was just two months on Myspace. But to me it wasn't. We spent hours at a time on the phone, on IM on web cam. I knew him, or I thought I did. I felt like he was my chance, like he was going to be the one to put an end to my Random Negro Stories File. But it lives on, so stay tuned for the next installment.

Random Negro Stories File: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

2008-07-18T15:48:00.002-04:00

Hey folks! I am back! Like Blak Jesus!

So you know that point in your life when you’re on the cusp of getting into a new relationship and it seems that all these potential suitors (old and new) pop up out the woodwork, well that’s where I am now.

Anyway, It’s a powerful yet confusing place to be. Your self-esteem soars, but you’re also left wondering, hey…where were you three months ago when I had nothing?!? It seems the secret to getting people to want you is to do nothing. I stopped putting in effort with the unavailables and BAM they all up in my face. I’m bout to start yelling like Soulja Boy, “YAH TRICK YAH! GET OUT MY FACE, GET OUT MY FACE.”

It’s like they can sense that I’m happy and moving on. Just like in Congress when there’s must pass legislation and lawmakers start trying to attach the most random provisions to it. I’m gonna call my local Congressman for tips on how to keep these riders off the bandwagon, especially since they missed it the first go-round.

So the first to try to hop back on is Samson. What? You don’t remember him? Just scroll down to the previous post for a refresher. Don’t worry…I’ll wait…All caught up? Great! So he sent me a note on myspace a few weeks ago saying, “Did you miss me?” That was the entire message, no “Hi, how are you doing” nothing, even though the last time I hear from him was a month before that. I humored his response saying, “I would ask you the same but I think I already know the answer to that.” He wrote me back a four-page letter about how it was my fault that everything between us went wrong, but in spite of that he missed me and if I truly missed him and want to give him a chance to enter my heart and not hold him accountable for what other men have done to me then leave him my number again so we can take it from there. Really? Ha! But because I hate people thinking they are right when they’re really not I sent him a note back refuting all his points, namely that he shut the whole thing down because I wouldn’t have sex with him and tried to get me to accept so “no strings” bullshit so that he could have sex with other people and not feel bad about it. I also mentioned that I’m talking to someone else. He must also have that trait because he sent me another note re-refuting my points, and ended it saying he misses me but and is glad that I found someone that treats me the way I want to be treated, but that if I still want to be friends and hang out from time to time or if me and my man don’t work out and I want to give him another chance then I should hit him up. I was starting to feel like a broken record, so I just let his note go unanswered.

Next up, Friendship and Fun. The other day he sent me an IM talking about how I don’t love him anymore and I show him no attention and that he was going to show up at my apartment and chain himself to my bed or sofa, “anything to be close” since he was “going thru withdrawal.” He’s been more consistent in trying to keep in touch with me. I went out of town for July 4th and he hit me up everyday from the day I left till the day I was supposed to return. I got all kinds of “Hey pretty girl” and “I miss you” messages.

A while back I met this dude on myspace and he seemed ok online, but when I talked to him on the phone I couldn’t understand a darn thing he was saying. I attributed it to the fact that he was African, and grew up in Paris, making French his native tongue. So we’ll call him, ESOL (English to Speakers of Other Languages). Anyway after getting frustrated over our language barrier, I decided to let it go, but maybe I should have let him know that. Maybe then I wouldn’t have gotten an unsolicited camera phone pic of his morning erection. And maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t still be sending me text messages saying he hasn’t heard from me in a long time. Oh well.

The most shocking unavailables to resurface is a dude we’ll call Ruby Tuesdays. No he didn’t work there, but that is where we first met up. Now you haven’t heard me talk about him because our situation was over and done with long before I created this blog and we haven’t had contact in nearly three years, so imagine my surprise when I see his IM name flash across my screen saying hi how you doing. I didn’t realize he was trying to reach me until the next morning (Y’all know I’m a narco and fall asleep with my IM up.)

Anyway here’s the back-story, we met the summer of 2005, on yahoo personals. Things were oh so great. We went on dates, he made me mixed love song CDs and he introduced me to his family. He was sweet and charming and caring and considerate.

But then the persona he presented began to unravel. My first red flag should have been discovering the pack of cigarettes in his car when he claimed to be a non-smoker. I guess after weeks of hiding it he just couldn’t take it anymore. On one date we actually had to leave a restaurant because he couldn’t light up inside. WTF. But that’s not even the half of it everything really started to fall apart that fall. Two weeks before my birthday, my roommate at the time and I decided to throw a Labor Day house party. I invited Ruby Tuesdays and he bought all this stuff for it. But he so-called had to run back out and then reappears at my apartment drunk! At first he was harmless, but a few more beers in and he starts insulting my party guests and then when I asked him to leave he tried to grab me up. One of my good guy friends springs into action and is like naw homes you gonna have to raise up outta here. I had to leave my own damn party I was so distraught.

Foolishly we made up only for me to get a call in the wee hours of my birthday, from his actual girlfriend, on his phone. Bet you didn’t see that coming. Neither did I. See I was up late doing my hair in anticipation of our date and this strange IM pops up, and it says something like, I need to know what’s going on between you and Ruby Tuesdays. So of course, like a dumb ass I called him, ready to cuss him out like who the frick is this asking me who I am to you. He doesn’t answer, so I left a message, just saying call me back. My phone rings like 15 minutes later and looking at the caller ID, it’s him, or so I thought. It’s actually his girlfriend. She tells me how she wanted to talk to me and find out who I really was because he told him that I was a friend of his when she caught him looking at my yahoo personals profile at her house. I had to respect her gangsta, she did not try to talk to me all crazy or call me out of my name at all. She just wanted the truth about our sorry ass man. The worst part was that he called me back later on that day trying to continue with our celebration plans for my birthday like everything was all cool. It wasn’t until I said something to him that he was like yea I know. He offered up the usual pitiful excuses, you know “oh we were going through some things when I met you” and “we got back together and then I just couldn’t choose.” Oh and my favorite “I never expected to like you as much as I do.” Gee thanks.

So what he could have to say to me after all that I have no idea, but guess it’s true what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Too bad more often than not it’s only in one direction.

The No: BoyFriend Zone

2008-05-06T16:41:00.001-04:00

Being the cool chick that I am has its drawbacks in the romance department. You’d think it’d be a cool advantage to have guys think you are neat and actually want to spend time with you outside of the bedroom right. Well yea it would be if any of them were emotionally available.

The latest, which we’ll call The Trainer, tells me that he just got out of a relationship this past January and that his ex hasn’t quite moved on yet. The end result, things are going nowhere fast with me. I told him I’d opt out, rather than wait for me to get caught up (which I most certainly would) rather than be peaced out later. But then I reneged on myself. I started to feel bad about going back to square one. Ok who am I fooling, I just don’t want to be alone. So I tried to go back and say that I still wanted to hang out. But he has a conscience and a heart, so he told me that he didn’t want to hurt me.

So even after a couple of weeks where I thought I was getting somewhere with this nice guy—we actually went on dates (outside of my house or his)—I’m back to where I was before we met because we are not on the same page with regard to any future for a relationship. So that’s that. Damn it! I’m so tired of meeting emotionally unavailable men. And lately, all the unemotionals have been resurfacing.

No Love In ’08 (he’s the one who told me over IM just before New Years that nothing was going to happen between us romantically in 2008) sent me a text at 1:48 a.m. Saturday night saying “hey cavema” It’s his nickname for me that spawned from one of our few dates at Uno’s where all I kept saying was “pizza good.” I was knocked out on my couch after a Big Mac and fries, popcorn, M&Ms and Milk Duds induced food coma, (yea I know that’s not on the plan, but disregard that for the moment) so I missed it. His emotional unavailability surfaced about a month after hanging out (read having sex and eating pizza) Lord only knows what he wanted. He has a habit of popping back up randomly, in the name of checking on me and wanting to make sure (side eye and smirk go here) I’m ok. I didn’t respond so I’m expecting a semi-hostile note the next time I hear from him about me “ignoring him.”

Dude I blogged about last time (who turned down my date invite to wash his hair), let’s call him Samson, left me a voice mail saying if I was over whatever it was that caused me to cut him out of my life then I should call him, because I’m cool peeps to hang around and he just wants friendship with no benefits with me. Really? HA!!! Apparently he misses my ‘cool’ friendship. I really don’t need any more friends. I’m fine with the ones I’ve got really.

Friendship and Fun (the one who gave me the card) found out about The Trainer and has been wanting to hang out with me lately. He wants to cook with me because “it would be fun” and “we both like to eat” and he “likes spending time with [me].” He doesn’t really want me. I wish he would just stop faking. But I guess it’s not really politically correct to say to someone, hey lemme sex you down and then we can eat afterwards…well unless you’re either married or mutually agree that that type of communication is ok between you to. I certainly have not given him that signal.

I don’t know why these types are attracted to me. Oh wait, it’s cuz I’m so cool, but still. Go disrupt someone else’s life. Maybe I should ask my local Congressman to get help more funding for relationship counseling. But really, people always say that the kind of people attracted to you tells you something about you. Maybe the sad truth is that no matter how much I really want to be in a relationship I’m really not ready for one, and that’s why I haven’t met the one that’s ready to be in a relationship with me. I guess it would be a waste to put all my emotional baggage on to someone that has already worked his out.

I mean if I think about it, I’ve been in this vicious cycle for ten years now. Girl meets guy. Girl likes guy. Girl loses guy. Girl cries. After a long talk with a very good friend, I realize that I play and am comfortable in the victim role. It’s always ‘Why is this happening to me?’ and not ‘What can I do to deal with this?’ That’s the much harder thing to do. I don’t know how to do that. But I guess if I’m going to ever at some point be a mentally healthy person then I better figure out how. So anyone with suggestions, books you’ve read or whatever, send me a line. This is my plea for help.

I Hate: You So Much Right Now

2008-04-21T16:21:00.002-04:00

I hope I don’t offend my male readers too much with this post, but really your gender is frustrating the hell out of me!!!

I feel like the comedian in this video right about now!

I’m fucking tired of MEN coming at me on some bullshit. For example:

1. I’M NOT FUCKING SLOPPY ASS SECONDS! Look I realize that people have their preferences, but I do not appreciate you talking to my “standard of beauty” friend and then once she turns your bama ass down, then you try to be all up in my face. And why the fuck do you look surprised that I would stand up for myself and reject you? Get ghost NIGGA!
2. I’M NOT A FUCKING HOE! Stop asking my ass when you can come through on some DVD night foolishness. That is not a date. I don’t care what you say. I’m worth way more than you even deserve. I don’t know why I even lowered myself to your level in the first place.
3. I CAN SEE THROUGH YOUR FUCKING EXCUSES! So you thought I wouldn’t figure out that you saying you have to wash your hair and work ALL weekend was code for I don’t really want to see you. That’s some girl ass shit to do. I don’t care how long your hair is. Man up and say no I don’t really feel like hanging.

I feel like slapping and cussing folks out. If you’ve got man parts and you see me on the street—watch the fuck out. Not even my local congressman can help with this one.

Random Negro Stories File: Code Cracking

2008-04-09T15:57:00.003-04:00

Hey y'all...long time no post. I know I know. But when I come back its always worth the wait. Right?!? Come on don't be like that. Anyway, it’s time for another installment of the Random Negro Stories File. This one is in honor of one of my favorite comedian/radio personalities Steve Harvey. Listening to him and Shirley Strawberry dissect and respond to the crazy stuff people write in about makes my hour commute to work bearable. Steve is KING code cracker. You know what? I wonder if I can get my local Congressman to help me get funding for more code cracking counselors to spread the word. I should look into setting up a non-profit for it.

Anyway, I feel like I've been listening long enough to try my hand at “code cracking” as Mr. Harvey so eloquently puts it and thought I’d apply some of what I’ve learned to the foolishness I get approached with.

On to the code cracking!

Just The Seven Of Us?
So this guy hits me up on myspace talking about how my page caught his attention. His pic is nice enough and he did give me a compliment so I responded. After a few exchanges he drops the bomb on me. He tells me he has three kids, two baby momma’s. Two of his sons are out of state and his lil girl is with her mom in the area. I mean three’s company, but why would I knowingly put myself in a situation like that. That there is an episode of Jerry Springer in the making.

What he said: I am not looking, but if a good woman comes along, I am not a fool.
What he meant: I want to fuck you, nothing else.

What he said: I must say I am impressed with you so far.
What he meant: I want to fuck you, your body is nice!

What he said: I get emotional with the woman I am with, and if she captures my brain as well as my heart, I am a self-sacrificing type of man.
What he meant: If you give me head and it’s good I’ll give you some too.

No, Thank YOU!
This guy I was “seeing” (read fucking) gives me this card one day. At first it starts out all sweet, thanking me for a favor I did for him. I’m all like awww, but I keep reading and…

What he said: Looking forward to many more days of friendship and fun.
What he meant: If you let me, I’ll hit it till I can’t no more.

I had to consult a few friends and mull over that one for a few days because before the card, he was treating me like more then a JO. Lots of “good morning beautiful..” and “I miss you” texts. But shortly after an impromptu rendez-vous, he let me know in no uncertain terms that he’s not interested in developing a relationship with me—because he’s…are you ready for it….“focusing on other stuff.”

I’m New, Let’s Screw
Another myspacer trolls past my page and tells me that he finds me very attractive and that he wants to see if we can be “friends.” Now normally I have a no new “friend” policy but to humor myself, I asked him what his definition of it is and…

What he said: Someone I can hang with from time to time and have fun with see I’m new around here and I don’t know anybody.
What he meant: I want to get in your bed cuz I ain’t had none in a while.

Are you noticing a pattern here? My male readers am I on the right track? How’d I do on my code cracking?

N****: That's Gay

2008-03-14T11:31:00.000-04:00

I had to make a comeback cuz there was some vicious rumor on the Internet that I ain't have no lights and gas and that's why I wasn't blogging no more. I assure you that I have (and did not lose at any point) utility service. But feel free to call your local congressman to try and get me some assistance. Cuz even when they are charging me the right amount the bills are still serious.

Anyway, on to what I REALLY came on here to say.

I have the worst gaydar, and it's probably because I think everything is gay, so when real gay is staring me in the face I totally miss it. But here's the top three things men do that I think are gay.

1. Rocking Dangling Earrings: I don't mind guys that wear earrings, but at no point should the earring hang from your lobe. If you must wear a(n) earring(s) then it must sit firmly in the center of the lobe. I don't care if it's the teeny tiny hoops either. Walking 'round with your baby girl's pair because you lost one of yours. Stop it. It's gay.

2. Wearing Smedium Clothing: Now if I don't think we should be wearing the same accessories what would make you think we could possibly wear the same clothing? I'm not saying that I want some thugged out dude wearing sagging jeans and knee length white tees, but men should not wear any size smaller than an XL, ever. Give yourself some breathing room. If I put on one of your shirts and it looks the same on me as it does on you then your clothing choices are gay.

3. R.I.P. Tattoos of a Male Not Related To You By Blood: I try to give some leeway, cuz I don't like R.I.P tattoos at all, but if its for a male that's not even your blood then you've definitely registered on my gaydar. I don't care that he was your homie for life and that he took that bullet to the aorta for you. There are other ways to celebrate what he meant to you. Write a song, a book, an editorial on why black on black crime needs to stop. Anything but the tatt. No need to have another man's name permanently etched on your chest, it's gay.

Am I on the right track here? Y'all let me know what else I should be looking out for. I'm trying to reduce the number of "girl you ain't know such and such was gay" conversations I have per year. Thank you kindly.

Guess What: I Still Ain’t Paying

2008-01-18T16:51:00.000-05:00

Yes, I’m still fighting with the gas company and here’s why:

On Tuesday morning I’m leaving my apartment to head to work and I see a man fiddling around with the gas meters outside of my apartment complex. I look around and see a gas company truck, so I feel comfortable enough to approach the man and ask him what is going on, considering my current woes with the company.

He tells me that he came out to respond to a call from an apartment two floors under me—complaining of no heat—and he found that despite turning the switch on for the line, the apartment still wasn’t getting heat. Anyway, he came back out and found that the meters had been SWITCHED between apartments. Damn right they weren’t getting any heat. I had maintenance shut that bitch off three days before. When I came out he was putting them back in their correct positions.

I knew something was wrong. I just had no idea it would be something as shady as that. Maybe I was in denial, but it’s become clear that I live in the ghetto. These muhfuk’n shiftless ass apartment dwellers disconnected the two meters, switched them around and was running up all kinds of therms at my expense. These bammas done charged up over $300 worth of gas on my account, while I’m trying to be conservative and use space heaters and dress in layers in my damn apartment. Oh hell no. I ain’t payin’ shit.

This mess has got to be illegal. Somebody, get my local Congressman on the phone. I need yall to mandate that the gas companies offer apartment dwellers some protections against this. It’s too damn easy to maneuver. I watched the employee. He had a simple wrench, unscrewed them and shifted them around. He told me he’s seen it done before, and wished me luck getting through to the customer service department. He then marked the lines made some notes for the company and checked the line up in my apartment to make sure that everything was ok.

You know when I got to work I got straight on the phone and called the company up. I told them what I had witnessed and they said that the technician’s story corroborated what I was telling them, but that they needed to open up an investigation into the matter to see how my billing issue would be resolved. Why is this not an open and shut case? I asked to speak to a manager, but of course I got the standard “they’re in a meeting” response. This agitates me. I say is that you’re protocol for whenever someone asks to speak to a manager for you to tell them that they’re in a meeting? Cuz I’ve called all times of day and have been told the same story and I don’t accept this. Even if this all blows over corporate is going to get an email from me on this.

My next call was to the property managers at my apartment complex. After being told that this was a gas company issue and that he could not offer me any protections against this, I’m peeved. He does however say that eviction proceedings would be carried out, if what I’m saying is corroborated by the gas company. Yes, please get rid of these trifling ass people, because I don’t have time to be sitting outside guarding my gas meter with a shot gun.

Point Blank: I Ain't Payin'

2008-01-14T20:02:00.000-05:00

So I've been having some issues with my gas company. When I first moved into my apartment in June all was good with the world. For the first four months our relationship was great. My bills stayed under $20 and I was a happy camper. Little did I know one fateful December evening that our cordial relationship would be compromised.

That night after a long day of work, I open my mail and see what I can only assume is a fictitious bill from the gas company. In the thirty days of November, according to them, my gas usage spiked from six therms to 74, hiking my bill to more than $120. For a one bedroom apartment? And I didn't even turn on the heat? (It hadn't gotten bitterly cold yet, so I was squeaking by on space heaters.) You can't be serious. I called immejiately.

Mr. Customer Service Representative barely spoke English (that's a rant for another blog), but tried to convince me that it was reasonable to see a $100 difference in the span of one month. I did not agree and hung up to find a more reasonable representative. The next person to answer the phone Ms. Customer Service Representative, still didn't tell me what I wanted to hear, but offered me the option to dispute the charges and have a technician come out and check the meter. I went on vacation and didn't follow up until last Friday, when I got yet another bill this one insisting that I used 124 therms and now owe them $191.00 for December. Hell to the naw.

Again I get on the phone. I explain my situation to Ms. Customer Service Representative #2 and first she tells me there's no note that my meter issues had come to any resolution. She puts me on hold. She comes back and changed her story. Indeed a technician had come out to my property and certified that the meter was in perfect working order. I called bullshit. She puts me on hold again, comes back and tries to tell me that I was not charged between June and October and that these higher bills reflect a "catchup bill." No effin way. My bills say actual reading. So no I don't accept your weak ass argument. She puts me on hold again, and comes back and now says that the readings reflect actual usage. I tell her there's no way in hell a one bedroom apartment (where I don't pay for cooking gas or water heating) can consume 124 therms of gas in any 30-something day period. I asked to speak to the manager.

This is where things get ridiculous. I go through the conversation I had with her underling and Ms. Customer Service Manager tells me that there's nothing else I can do to dispute this and that I need to accept the terms of a 6-month payment plan that she's offering me. I continue to tell her that I'm going to do no such thing because that would be acknowledging that I consumed those therms when I know I didn't. She said some ish about how she was trying to be lenient with me and would have stretched out the payments for a year, but I can't even certify that my appliances are in working order. I'm all about paying what you owe, but I didn't benefit from those therms so I ain't payin.

We go back and forth about it and I tell her that she needs to tell me what the next step is. This heffa says to me, "The next step is to pay your bill." *RECORD SCRATCH* No this bitch didn't. See this is where a less civilized version of myself would have had a Nigga momen t, and cursed the bitch out and called her anything but a child of God. Lawd, how I wished I could reach through the phone and strangle her bitch ass. But no, I keep my cool and tell her that is not good customer service and I know that they trained you better.

Congress has a million customer bill of rights floating around, where's the one that mandates that representatives can't talk out the side of their necks at their customers. Oh wait that's supposed to be common fucking sense. Still, I need my local Congressman to get on that.

I insisted that I needed to speak with someone else above her. But its damn near 9 o'clock we've been on the phone for more than an hour and I just can't fight anymore. I resolve to calling back in the morning.

I didn't call back, but instead went to my rental office to see what if anything they could do about this. My maintenance guy shut off the gas flow in my apartment and said he would monitor the meter. He called back the next day to say that despite the gas flow being shut off the meter was still registering "usage." He said he shut the meter off too.

Moral of the story: I ain't use it so I ain't paying--bitches.

Random Negro Stories File: Part One

2008-01-03T15:44:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year Everybody! I know I took two months off from the blog scene. I’d like to say it was because I was traumatized by the collection of random Negro stories that I’m about to share with you, but really it’s just cuz I was lazy. Still enjoy and feel free to write your local Congressman to demand blogger work requirements. I know I would. (Insert smile here)

And now off to the random Negro stories:

Pre-Game Fiance: Around mid-October I met this guy at a lounge at a Wednesday night happy hour. He seemed cool enough, so I gave him the digits. We emailed and talked on the phone a few times but a couple days into our “talking” he sends me a text at like 9 o’clock on a Saturday morning asking me to make him pancakes. When I declined he wrote back asking me to marry him and move to Africa, so long as we could get back to D.C. in time to see the Redskins on Sunday. UMMMM WOW!!!

The Sixth Heartbeat: Every time I put a new pic up on myspace, the random Negro friend requests increase three-fold. One of the more interesting requests came from a guy that kept referring to himself as “Eddie King.” Yes the fictitious 60s singer from the Robert Townsend flick. Old boy was asking me when I was gonna be “ready to come hang with old eddie king and show him what u workin an twurkin with sometime.” I humored him for a few messages, but once he said, “you can’t hang with Eddie King” I decided that he meant the Eddie King after the crack addiction and kept it moving.

Keep it in the Family: So apparently TGI Fridays is becoming one of my favorite spots. This random Negro story is brought to you by an escapade happened at the one in Laurel So I’m with my girl and there are two guys and a girl seat not too far down the bar from us. Somehow we end up taking shots of tequila with them (on their dime). We find out that they’re Howard Alum, but from waaaay back in the day. So of course you know that means that one of them wanted to talk to me, b/c the only men that try to holla at me are either A. Old, B. African, or C. have two or more kids. It turns out that this guy is two out of the three. Still we end up at some other bar, where they are playing music and what not. I politely tell him that he’s too old for me and focus my attention elsewhere. Later on my friend tells me that he told her that he wanted to hook me up with his son who is actually my age. Yea….interesting.

Little Jack Horner: So I was in ATL kicking it with my family for the holidays. One of my boys hits me up about going to a party a dude we knew from high school was throwing Christmas night. I end up dragging my friend, who drove up to spend the holiday with me and my crazy family, along. We got there way too early and the party was dead. It started to get a lil better as the night wore on and our goose and cranberry started to settle in. Tell me why there was this dude dressed like Tyrone Biggums who was trying to dance with me. I wasn’t in the mood. I just wanted to chill and not sweat my perm out. This bamma hooks his finger into the belt loop on the back of my jeans trying to pull me closer to him. When I move to unhook him from me, he’s like come on shawty..why you gotta be like that…at least I didn’t grab yo ass. I’m like gee so you apparently because he put in his thumb, but didn’t pulled out a plum (i.e. my ass) I was supposed to say oh what a good boy. Thanks for clearing that up.

Tag You're It: No TouchBacks

2007-11-02T03:12:00.000-04:00

Ok, so I now realize that joining this blogging world comes with games and rules that one should play by to keep readers reading, and commenters commenting. But anyway, in the spirit of congeniality, and in hopes of getting more folks to read my blog, I bring to you: Tag--The Blogger Edition. I think I'll call my local Congressman to help me sponsor a rally to drum up support for my blog. Come on you didn't really think I wasn't going to be able to work that in somehow.

So here's the rules:

A). Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog...
B). Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself...
C). Tag 7 random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs...
D). Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

And we're off:

A. Thank you Maddy for giving me a random reason to blog...ok that was easy.

B. Seven random facts: Drum roll please.
1. I may be a narcoleptic. I can fall asleep anywhere and I wake up and act like nothing ever happened. It makes for odd sleeping patterns. To friends and folks chatting with me on IM, especially at night, this can be quite annoying, but hey it's me, so deal with it or don't IM me.
2. I'm deathly afraid of pigeons. I swear they don't even try to move out the way when you walk by. When I have to walk past a large flock, my heart starts racing, and I be all moving extra fast. I always feel like they're flying directly at me and I'm afraid that they're going to relieve themselves on my head.
3. I really like cheese. Right now I'm going through a pepper jack and provolone phase. They just make everything taste better. Oooh I just saw a Checkers commercial for a new cheesy double burger, with pepper jack and a spicy cheese sauce. Gotta try that! Sounds yum-o!
4. I was A Pimptress Named Candy for Halloween.

Inspired by my new favorite Boondocks character: A Pimp Named Slickback. It was great. I went to a couple of lounges and even got some male hoez to kiss my ring.
5. I'm addicted to wedding stuff. I'm no where close to getting married. I don't even have a boyfriend, or anyone that I'm seeing seriously, but I love thinking about what my wedding is going to be like. My Friday isn't complete unless I read the By Invitation Only, wedding announcement column in the Washington Post's Express. Don't tell anyone but in my head, I draft out what mine would say for the person I'm interested in at the moment.
6. I like my underwear to match my outfits. I know this is completely ridiculous, seeing as how hardly anyone ever sees my undies, but somehow it just makes my outfit more complete.
7. I like looking at pictures of myself. I just scrolled up to look at my pimp picture three times, while writing this. Call me vain, but I think I'm quite photogenic and I'm in love with my smile.

C. Well here goes the 7 random folks tagged by me: Mr. Fresh to Death, Baby Daddy Diaries, Kolossol Imperial, Thic Flair, ummm...three more Tenacious, Ms. Sula, and....Curvydva.

D. And with that I'm off to post these comments. I make no promises about them keeping up the game. Ciao.

Slow Your: Roll

2007-10-20T08:45:00.000-04:00

I hate kids who wear those effin sneaker skates and the parents who buy them. They be just rolling around the damn stores and ish. Get on my damn nerves. Sit yo big Roll Bounce ass down somewhere.

I saw this one guy in the dollar store trying to get his kids in line, after they'd turned the store into their own personal roller rink. It's too late. No one told your ass to buy them the damn shoes, but you wanna get mad because they use them? I just be waiting for their lil tails to fall and bust they head open.

Apparently it's happening all over the world, but I haven't seen it yet. Got doctors all up in arms cuz these lil bad asses rolling around are breaking their wrists and ankles, dislocating shoulders and cracking skulls and what not. One kid tripped up on a piece of gravel in the driveway, fell and broke several fingers and wrist bones. See no good can come of these shoes.

Whose bright idea was it to make these damn things anyway? There's a REASON why skating rinks are made out of a different material than the regular ass ground.

You already know I'm calling my Congressman to get these shoes off the market. If these damn things are still a craze by the time I have kids, they bet not even think about asking me to buy them. Its bad enough that kids wanna make everywhere they go an instant playground, but you wanna give them a license to do so. No sir ain't happening under my watch. I mean Bush ain't even trying to expand the State Children’s Health Insurance Program, and I'll be damned if I hand over a co-pay cuz you wanted to reenact ATL at Wal-Mart.

Why Don’t You Just: Wax That

2007-10-12T16:28:00.000-04:00

I’m weirded out by oddly shaped eyebrows. There I’ve said it. It’s one of the first things I notice about people and the very thing that has me shaking my head in disgust in most cases. There was this chick in undergrad that had eyebrows that didn’t go all the way across her eyes. Every time I saw her in the cafeteria I lost my appetite, which was great when I was dieting, but I shouldn't have been subject to that type of eye molestation. Only thing worse are the phantom eyebrows À la Whoopi Goldberg.

Which brings me to my rant: I cannot understand why people shave them off only to pencil, marker, or tattoo them on in odd shapes. Tattooing on makeup is the worst. I mean I get that it's supposed to be convenient and you never have to worry about doing them again, but a slip of the needle, or inaccurate measurements and you're walking around forever looking like you've seen a ghost. That's enough to make me hand over my $10 for a wax job every few weeks.

But back to the odd shapes. Yes, God made all of us differently, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t design any of us with eyebrows that:

a. grow in a straight line
b. curve down to your nose like Capitan Hook’s metal appendage or
c. look like parentheses trying to bump each other out the way

Having said that, if you are going to reconstruct your eyebrows, remember placement is key. Never should you be walking around looking like you’re in shock all day long. Also be sure that they are at the same level above each eye. Don’t be walkin’ round looking like you are trying to figure out what the Rock is cooking. Please bring (both of) them down a notch. Now on to color. There is no reason to look like you’ve taken a piece of charcoal and smeared it along your brow, when your hair (read weave) is honey blonde. I mean I know you’re not a natural blonde, but this confirms it. Try using a softer brown shade.

This is just one girls plea for you to do your part in making the world a better place. I think I’ll call my local Congressman to see if he can hold a town hall meeting on proper eyebrow arching techniques.

Culinary Delights: I've Got a Knife and Fork Where My Heart Used to Be

2007-10-05T16:09:00.000-04:00

Men aren't the only ones who want to come home to dinner on the table. I work hard. Slaving over a keyboard five days a week, chasing down information that people don’t want to give me. When I come home I want to eat a home cooked meal. The problem is I’m so drained that I can barely lift a pot, skillet, or any other cooking apparatus.

So I eat like a broke bachelor: lots of PB&J (reduced fat and sugar free) and cereal (Special K and Curves) and lean pockets—hey I’m also tryna watch my girlish figure. But this has to end. I wants me a cooking man. Forget coming home to a back rub, foot rub, or any other kind of rub (well let’s not go too far here). Still I need a warm meal to help me mellow out.

Back in my collegiate days, I joked that I was going to stake out culinary schools in hopes of accidentallyonpurpose stumbling upon my dream cooking man. The plan was to walk around with my arms full of culinary tools, and conveniently drop them at the feet of potential suitors. Maybe I should have called my local Congressman to see if he could have drafted a subsidy program to help my potential mates go to culinary school. Either way I never made that happen, but that means you’re in luck fellas.

I’m now accepting applications. Here’s a quick breakdown of what I’m looking for:

Culinary artist with at least five years experience specializing in healthful Soul, Italian, and Mexican cuisine. BBQ and grilling skills not required but highly favored. Must be trustworthy as you will be provided with a key to my house, to prepare home cooked meals for me. Attention to detail and excellent time management skills are a must. Ability to work efficiently, facing a daily 7:30 p.m., deadline required.

Send your resume and cover letter to *cookforaqueen@blogspot.com. Please provide samples upon request.

*no actual emails were harmed in the making of this blog.

Training Tuesdays: The WMATA Workout Plan

2007-10-02T21:52:00.000-04:00

With seven years of metro riding in the Chocolate City urea under my belt, few things surprise or phase me anymore. Not the Asian guy on the blue sometimes red line, singing Jesus's praises in the morning, nor the grown ass man who stuffed an entire double cheeseburger into his mouth and then proceeded to suck his thumb. Dude with a masterlock for an earring--no biggie. That's all commonplace.

But today I was intrigued. The object of my fascination caught my eye at the bus shelter at the Silver Spring Metro Station. (Z11, stand up! No really...ain't no more damn seats on the bus). The vagabond started out, much like the rest of the crazies that I share public transportation with. Cigarette in one of his latex-gloved hands, singing Negro spirituals. But as I continued to watch him (I had 20 minutes till the next bus came, and the batteries in my MP3 player died), I realize that he's--aside from the cigarette, a health conscious nomad.

Decked out in his gym gear (well, really it was jeans, but he was wearing a nike shirt), I realize he's warming up for a workout. He stretches out on the bench inside the bus shelter, and even attempts a few pull ups on the top of the structure. The bus pulls up and he takes off for his jog, leaving his bags behind. I kept craning around to see how long, it would take him to lap around, but the bus pulled off before he made it back to his starting point.

Now, I'm all for getting a good work out in where ever you are, but the metro is THE last place, I'd ever think to try and work up a sweat. Foolish me, I've been wasting my hard earned money at Gold's Gym. Sure they've got all this fancy smancy equipment, treadmills, and elliptical machines gallore, but really I could just save my $37 a month, for all the free stuff at the metro. Thanks Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority! I'm gonna call my local Congressman and see if he can get a moving sidewalk installed that can dub as a treadmill.

Trojan (Wo)Man: Mmmmm Hmmmm

2007-10-01T20:25:00.000-04:00

I'm a loyal chick, so when my friend asked me what my favorite brand of condom was I quickly rattled off Trojan, and sang the little ditty from the commercials. I'll always heart men who need, and can properly work equipment that goes in, gold wrappers, but I'm also quite fond of the trojans in the bright green pack, the twisted pleasure ones. At the time I couldn't remember the name of them, so of course I googled it and ended up on their fantastical site: TrojanWorld. A few clicks and I'm in unchartered yet fascinating territory.

Imagine my delight, scrolling over all the pretty packages and reading through the descriptions when I come across this: Trojan Vibrating Ring. Not only does this thing vibrate, but like any other penis ring, I can only imagine that it's supposed to prolong erection. They even have double ended vibrating ones. Two for one! Score! And it comes with a condom. Talk about bang for your buck!

Only drawback is that, according to the site, the small battery only lasts for 20 minutes. They should make one, that you can replace the battery in, but I guess they were going for the whole disposable thing. Besides, I don't think, I could get anyone to use one of those, much less get them to stop and switch batteries. They should have used a lithium ion battery, that could've been good for like an hour of tingling fun.

I wonder when these came out, not that I make it a habit of scouring the condom aisle, but I've never seen them in stores. Further investigation of this wonder product, tells me that it's "Available wherever quality TROJAN® Condoms are sold*" except in "Alabama, Colorado, Georgia, Kansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Texas or Virginia. GREAT! That's where I do all my travel fucking. Hmmm, I wonder if those on the TSA's carry on-approved list? I'm so adding this to my arsenal.

Still it seems strange, because there's gotta be a lot of good loving going on down south, but my girl tells me, in that in the M-I- crooked letter, crooked letter, they've outlawed the sale of anything that stimulates the genitalia. Really, so you're telling me that if I go down to the SIP that I can go down to the local Wal-mart and get guns and ammo, but I can't get a vibrating ring. That's some BULL! I'm glad I live in a "progressive" state.

But apparently, my hometown, Georgia along with Texas and the rest of those states have similar laws. But guess what lobbyists and adult store owners aren't taking it lying down. LMAO (ok...bad pun, but whatever). Seriously, there's a non-profit organization fighting against these laws. They call themselves the National Alliance of Activists and Trade Organization, and they're fighting for our sexual rights. Join the fight, call your local Congressman today.

Bar Fights:MusiqSoulchildEye

2007-09-29T08:42:00.000-04:00

Last night, after a shopping trip for a grown and sexy alumni boat ride my girl and I are going on in a couple of weeks, we decided to hit up Fridays for a couple of drinks and appetizers. It was jumping, even out in Laurel. So after snagging some prime bar real estate, we chat up our cutie bartender and he hooks us up with his specialty drink. So we're feeling good, feeling great. I'm cheesing hard and my jaw is slackening, the sign of a really great drink for me.

So we're chatting and drinking and what not, getting our economical buzz on (a few drinks and appetizers at the bar are like half priced after 10). The new cast of Grey's Anatomy is to our right, and we've donned the black dude "Jerome O'Malley." They exit stage left and then enters this dude wearing his "stunna shades." At Friday's? Really? I abhor people who wear sunglasses (for other than medical reasons) inside...at night...no less...in a dark ass bar.

But as I said we were feeling good, feeling great, and in a chatty mood. So my girl
strikes up a convo with him, telling him he's brave for leaving his drink unattended. So we're all talking, exchange names (some were changed to protect the innocent). Apparently he's feeling my girl, and he has the audacity to ask me to get up out of my seat so he can sit closer to her. I look at him like he's done lost his damn mind. He laughs it off, like he was just joking, but I know he was just serious. Call me a cockblocker if you want, but no real man is gonna make a woman get up out of her seat at the bar to chat up her friend. If you really want to talk to her that damn bad, go stand your ass on the other side of her. So this, in retrospect, is sign number one that things are going to go downhill real fast.

I'm irritated with him at this point, but I let it slide. We find out he's from N.Y. and my girl has a moment with him, since she's from Strong Island. We play a round of "Guess what branch of the military he's in." He tells me, since I'm sitting closer to him, that he's Air Force, which confirms for me why I'm irritated with him. He's a crazy ass military dude. But I continue to let it go, cuz my girl is having a seemingly good time chatting this fool up. Not that she was interested in him or anything, but she really just likes talking shit to random ass niggas. Tonight was no different.

Shit started to hit the fan when my girl asks him, "I'm not trying to be rude or funny or anything, but what's with the shades in the bar? Can you even see, or do you have the MusiqSoulchild eye, you tryna cover up?" I bust out laughing. Seemingly he takes it on the chin, knowing that it was all in good fun, and responds, "Actually it's not dark when I see through them...I can see where the Chinese lady cut too much off your left eyebrow and didn't take enough off of the right one." DAMN! But my girl is a sport and takes it all in stride. She's like aight, I can take it, I guess I deserve that for the Musiq comment. But then homie gets all serious and retreats to his part of the bar. Then he comes back and says, "See you shouldn't use people's physical disabilities as a joke." DAMN!! Homie really did have the MusiqSoulchildEye! LMAO. He continues his bitch moment, and says "See this is why I don't even like Maryland. I just come here and make my money and go."

Now I get irritated. And in case you don't know when I have a lil likka (yea i said it) in my system I can be belligerent, but only when provoked. So I go off, probably dispelling Bill O'Rielly's moment of clarity and furthering racial stereotypes. But at this point I don't care. So I say, "You know what don't even talk to me anymore." He's like, "Don't even talk to me anymore?" He bitches some more about how he doesn't know why I'm carrying on because even my girl said that she was wrong, and I'm mad because you're sitting in between us. *RECORD SCRATCH* He went back to his drink but I went off!! I was like I knew you were an asshole, but I didn't know you were that much of an asshole. I got LOUD! I string off a bunch of expletives. That's some bullshit, some muhfuckin' bullshit. This asshole...yada yada yada. Really the only cuss word I didn't use was bitch. And really, had my girl not been trying to calm me down saying its not worth it and what not I'd a called him a bitch ass nigga. Cuz that's what he was. MusiqSoulchildEye's food finally comes and he's like I can't sit here anymore, I need a booth. These two guys sitting in the booth behind us, offer up their seats in favor of the bar and he moves on.

I keep going off so much so that our cutie bartender comes from behind the bar and is trying to make sure I'm ok. He was all sweet and consoling and what not. Then he makes us this fantabulous pineapple upside-down shot and all is good with the world. We end up chatting up the guys that replaced MusiqSoulchildEye and they redeemed the night. Cutie bartender tells us we need to come back and all was good in the hood.

Do Not Call: Me

2007-09-27T11:22:00.000-04:00

So Congress is all worried about people having to re-register on the national do-not-call-list, by next September. As much as I hate telemarketers, even more annoying is being on the receiving end of an undesired late night booty call. Even telemarketers stop calling by a certain hour.

So Congress: I say you refocus your efforts to create a new registry for daters. You could call it the do-not-booty-call list. Hell if telemarketers should have to check their call lists against a registry, I should be able to register my phone number to protect me against unwanted, unsolicited booty calls. I mean here I am in my peaceful slumber and your horny ass just had to wake me up tryna get some. Problem is, I don't want your ass, and all you've done is made me want someone else.

So back to this registry. It should totally be linked to your cellie. These days cell phone manufacturers are pretty crafty. If they can make a phone that locks down when your blood alcohol is at a certain level to keep you from drunk dialing, surely the can lock up your phone from calling certain numbers after a certain time.

Really, I just want to be taken off your 2 a.m. list. Seriously, if you're not tryna holla at me at 2 p.m. to go to a movie, or lunch or bowling, or for a walk in the park, don't call me at 2 a.m. for a romp in the hay.