Hot Damn!

Its late but I need to get this out before I forget.  Sorry if it doesn't make too much sense but I dont think I'm going to get much sleep until I get my day off of my chest.  (Current song : Sexual Eruption, Snoop Dogg) What a fucking day.  My interview wasnt until 1 but I was up at 7.  I stared at the ceiling for awhile til I got a huge hairy paw in my face.  Took Duke out, ate a doughnut (mmmm doughnuts), showered and headed upstairs to get dressed.  (And my curls dropped some in the shower!) Wondering why I had to go upstairs to get dressed?  Well, while I live in the studio on the first floor, Mommy occupies a very nice 3 bedroom duplex.   I'm currently keeping my work clothes up there while I continue to renovate my apartment.  Keeps down on the dog hair on them that way too.  Last minute I decided to wear all black.  Good fucking decision.

I'm moving and shaking, even managed to put a coat of neutral polish on my nails.  Then I can't find my mittens.  I love those mittens!  And they go perfectly with my long black shearling coat.  So I settled for some black knit gloves and stuffed a hat into my newish Coach bag.  (Newish cause I bought it in December and haven't ever carried it, til yesterday)  I'm out the house ahead of time and when I hit the subway platform, heres the momo fucking train.  Owww!  I get to the city a full 30 minutes early for my appointment.  Head up to the office and first impression was that maybe I had made a mistake.  The people in the reception area weren't what I would call quality applicants and the former crackhead looking black receptionist was hating on me from the moment I walked in and took the attention of the former crackhead looking dude waiting in the lobby.  Lucky me.  

Then this chick is asking me to fill out an application.  Would someone please explain to me why I have to fill this shit out when I gave yall my resume and all that shit is on there.  And fuck no I'm not giving you the name , cell and HOME phone numbers for references!  Just when I'm thinking this might have been a waste of my time, here comes my Agent.  An adorable incredibly well maintained upper middle aged Italian woman dressed very nicely in ALL BLACK (go Troubsy!) with some funky colorful glasses on.  We head to her cubicle and pictures of her kid, grandkid and her dogs!  

Sidebar: Would someone please explain to me why I have been given the task of changing the opinion of what dreadlocks are?  I sit down and first thing she says is "Ok, first off, I think your gorgeous, but can I ask are those dreadlocks?!  Whatever they are, they're gorgeous..."  15 minutes later, the woman that sits behind her says "Excuse me, your curls are beautiful, I've never seen dreadlocks like yours." (Current Song - Honey, Ms. Badu)  

After about a half an hour of talking to her and doing some MS Office testing (I had to do some mail merge labels LaShay!) what do you know, I'm on my way to interview at this great little company.  I was supposed to meet with the Head of the Company's assistant, but I ended up meeting with her, one of the partners and the Head.  Go Trouble!  Not only would the job give me the opportunity to do something that I really love, but because of my major it would be the perfect place for me to advance as well!  Only thing is I would be taking a pay cut.  Nothing that would hurt me financially, especially since BossMan is still paying me for awhile longer.  But do I really want to go backwards?  On the other hand, the benefits are really really good and one of the perks is that I wouldn't have to pay for breakfast or lunch.

Shit, I mean this company does exactly what I told Mommy I was interested in when she asked me what I Wanted to do.  I might be jumping the gun, but I'm pretty confident that I impressed them.  I mean the fact that they interviewed me alone told me something, since they had stopped interviewing yesterday.  And I was the first person to meet with more than one person that worked there.  The job would be replacing an admin that is relocating to another state.  Her last day is tomorrow....

Hair Drama Llama

ok so there's no llama, but ever since Daners said it I've been dying to blog jack it.  Plus its hella fun to say.

So I have this interview tomorrow at a placement agency, and I've got the wardrobe thing figured out.  But I have no fucking idea what to do with my hair!  You see, I spent about 12 hours this weekend, washing my hair, tightening my locks and putting each and every single one on a got damned rod roller (how I get my luscious curls.)  So by the time I finished washing and shit, it was like 12:30, no fucking way I was gonna spend 2 hours sitting under the dryer after all of that.  So I tied the largest silk scarf I could find around them bitches and hit the hay.  Or tried to in any case.  Felt like 5 fucking million rollers were trying to bore their way into my skull.  ALL FUCKING NIGHT!  I was cranky the next morning, to say the least.  In fact, it's fucking Thursday and I still have a sore spot on the top of my head.  Which I can't figure out, it's not like I slept standing on my head.  That should be the one spot that doesn't hurt, right?

So the next morning, after all of my hard work the night before, I decided to sit under the dryer just to make sure my curls set.  I sprayed them all with some water, then some good ole fashion oil sheen and promptly fell the fuck asleep under the dryer.  That put a crick in my neck.  But my curls were tight.  No, not tight like good, tight like the belong on a got damned poodle!  And I have a interview tomorrow, errrrk! scratch that, today, my curls still haven't dropped any and I don't know what the hell to do with them.  I was just gonna snatch them up into a ponytail, with all the curls it looks like an elaborate bun, but then I can't put on a hat.  And its supposed to be cold tomorrow.  I just don't do under 30 weather with no hat.  Hell, most of the time if its 40 I still have a hat.  Might not be on all the time, but it'll be stashed in my bag somewhere...

Hey...

more random shit to keep you entertained til I can get back on my regular grind.

• I have been on a job finding mission as of late.  I sent out a buttload of resumes on Monday and I have an interview tomorrow with an agency.  
• So I have this interview tomorrow and I start pulling out possible outfits.  I know I've told you all this before, but I have way too many clothes for such a small person.  I've narrowed it down to about 3 different outfits and a possible, but it will probably be a game time decision.  I decidedly very quickly against one of my skirt suits, but I will probably wear a skirt.
• I've been feeling kinda strangely about PYT.  Nothing bad, but I just kind of feel like I'm not in control.  I guess its the fact that I went from seeing a potential stalker, to seeing someone who has their own shit to do.  I basically came out and asked him if I was wasting my time or if he really just had other things going on.  Which is about stalkerish as I get.  He said that he really hoped that I didn't feel like I was wasting my time with him and apologized for not spending a little more time with me.  I can't decided if I really like him or if its just cause I hardly leave the house anymore and have nothing better to do.
• I actually did leave the house yesterday and spent about 3 hours in Ikea.  Saw alot of shit I liked including a bar table for my living room and a buffet that would fit perfectly right outside of my kitchen.  Oh and the vanity!  Lord how I feel hard for that vanity.  I think I may ask the Artist to borrow the pick up truck (despite my somewhat frou frou ways, I love a nice pickup truck) and go back and get it this weekend.  I also saw a canopy bed, but it didn't seem sturdy enough to have sex on.  My internal monologue was broken so I actually said this out loud in the store, in front of Mommy and like 3 families.  I was a little embarrassed but went with it and said, "What?  It's not!"
• Mommy got American Hustle from Blockbuster and was quoting Katt Williams all weekend.  That shit was hilarious, both Mommy quoting him and Katt Williams himself.  And damn that Lunelle is fucking funny.
• I found my Daddy's rope chain, straight from the 80s, and I haven't taken it off since I found it.  Its not a really thick one like Nas has been rocking, but its beautiful Italian gold. So I'm stuntin like my Daddy...
• So this is like 2 weeks late (sometimes a little slow) but I think I mentioned that I had loaned Big Mr. Sad a book and after I told him to break yoself fool, I suspected that he was just trying to see me again using the book as an excuse.  So I told him to slide in through my mail slot when he was in the neighborhood.  I even took one of my other hardcover books to the mail slot to make sure it would fit.  I thought it did.  But then I got a call from Sad saying that it didn't and to let him know when I was home and he would drop it off.  So he did and I was on the phone with Cousin T and hit him with the "Thanks.  Take care" and a door slam.  I forgot about the book til I was cleaning up on Sunday and just for kicks I took it to the mail slot.  There I am, 11 pm outside of my house in my pajamas and a down jacket trying to put the book through the mail slot.  The son of a bitch slide right through, fucking bitchass.

Da Biznass

Since Afro likes my random post I've been talking about sex a lot recently, I decided to combine the two...

• You know Lady Shay, I've turned down a tongue lashing on more than one occasion.  For one thing, I had a very strange relationship some years ago where the sexual aspect of it mainly consisted of him going down on me while he jacked off into a pair of my panties.  I shit you not.  Not that his head games wasn't incredibly tight, but it kind of left a sour taste in my mouth for lick with no stick.  Then there was the dude that, shit I don't know what the fuck he was doing but it wasn't nothing nice.  And don't forget about the dudes that say "Oh I just want to taste it, nothing else" when they know full well that ain't all they want. 
• Speaking of that rather strange relationship of my youth (there is so much shit there I could do multiple posts on Chef and me) he first explained his sexual restrictions on my age (I was 16 he was 19) then on the fact that he was sort of in a relationship with a chick who was away at college in Florida, but the real reason was that his dick was about 3 inches long...
• Thats not to say that some men don't know how to work 3 inches.  Ok, so I've never had a fabulous lover with a 3 inch winky, but I'm sure that there are some out there.  Somewhere.  I've also known some men with 10 inches of thunder who don't know how to bring the rain.  The thought of bad sex with a big dude makes me cringe a little more than the thought of bad sex with a little dude.
• Did you know that some bodegas in the hood sell counterfeit Magnums?  I'm sure that some people don't even notice that they aren't as large as the real ones.  And the latex is different.  What the fuck is the world coming to when big dicked men in the hood (and the women that luv them) have to worry that Jose at the corner store is trying to dick them on the condoms.
• It's really not fair, if someone is tickleish and the other person isn't, the one who isn't should not be allowed to tickle the one who is.  Specially if there is a danger of said person peeing themselves.
• I couldn't laugh, at least not in his face, but PYT busted his lovely tight ass in the snow last night.  All I could do was say, "Oooo damn!  That looked like it hurt sweetie!  Are you alright?" then duck the snowball that headed my way.
• Fucking snow!  I love to look at it, maybe ski on it, but gotdamn if I dont hate to have to shovel that shit!
• In the recent past, I had a man tell me that I made him feel self conscious about being naked.  Needless to say that was the wrong dude for me.  First off,  I'm either in as little clothes as possible, or as many clothes as possible, depending on the weather.  If I'm in some coochie cutters and wife beater, I sure as hell don't want my dude to be in a turtleneck sweater and corduroys.  Secondly, I love to be naked.  It's fucking natural.  I'm not a flasher nor do I dress obscenely in public, but in the privacy of my own home, hell the fuck yeah I'm gonna walk around bare ass.   And lastly, I'm not the chick you want if you need a woman who is going to boost your ego.  I give compliments where they are due, not when they're asked for. 
• Speaking of compliments, twice in my life have I reached into a man's pants and said, "Wow that is really quite large" (or something like that) and the dude was kinda surprised at the compliment.  I think I mentioned that I don't give compliments unless they are due

Troub the Perv

• In answer to your query PrettyBlack - you know I did!  Don't know about the taming part, I kinda like them spirited.  Its when they turn into whiny bitches that I kick them to the curb.  Nothing worse than a dude that acts like a chick.
• Speaking of which, I saw Big Mr. Sad yesterday.  I had lent him a book and he finally returned it.  I was gonna chalk the cost of the book up to the price I pay for dealing with a man with bitchlike tendencies, but he made a big deal out of returning it.  I'm talking asking other people to give him Cousin T's phone number so that he could talk to her.  (It didn't happened, but if it had Cousin T probably would have laughed at his punk ass.)
• In case you didn't know, I have a serious thing for firemen.  I think Mr. March and Mr. August are my favorites from the 2008 FDNY calendar, even though I'm pretty sure that Mr. March is married (Go Head with Your Bad Ass Mrs. March!)  Don't ask me why, but they have fascinated me since I was a wee one.  Sooo, there is a fire house about 4 blocks away - Hello Tin House!  and about 2 weeks ago I saw the truck go by and noticed a new brown face in the bunch.  And yesterday I was driving past with Mommy and who should be standing outside but the new guy, and good lord is he fun to look at.  Me and Duke may have to take a walk down there soon.
• I have Nicaraguan neighbors.  I really can't figure out the family except to say that there are the parents, then they have 3 grown daughters, and then there are 4 grandkids.  I'm not sure which kids belong to who and that includes the grown daughters cause one of them calls the father by his first name and one of the grandkids calls him Daddy.  In any case one of the grandkids is a baseball player.  About 16 or 17 and I just noticed that he is fucking gorgeous.  Not that I would hit on a kid, especially one that I've know since he was about 9, but damn!  I mean really damn.  No wonder there has been a influx of teenage girls hanging around the block lately.  I feel kinda protective, I want to give him some condoms and the watch out for scheming trickettes talk.  I really not sure when he went from being a cute kid to a gorgeous young man but the teenaged girls better watch out for that smile.
• Speaking of gorgeous young men that I know, OtherMother's grandson is grounded.  Seems he came over to OtherMother's house afterschool with two friends, a boy and a girl.  OtherMother decides to fix some snacks for the kids and is heading down to the basement when the boy friend tries to intercept her.  Talkinbout he'll bring the snacks downstairs and its no problem, just stay upstairs.  Yeah right.  OtherMother goes downstairs and finds her grandson hopping into the bathroom trying to pull up his pants and the girl (I started to call her a young lady, but that is so not the case as you'll see in a minute) wiping her mouth.  OtherMother goes off on the boys and then tries to have a talk with the girl.  Tries to tell her that she shouldn't be giving out sexual favors like gum samples and that she needs to be careful about sexually transmitted diseases (OtherMother got them to admit that she was going to blow the other boy too) and this little shit is stoopid enough to tell OtherMother that she doesn't have to be careful cause she's already pregnant.  (Not grandsons)  This poor child is 14 to hear OtherMother tell it and living with her grandmother. 
• I have a crush on Bill Goldberg the jewish wrestler....

Jump on it in the morning and ride it til the night...

...wanna give you real jewelry so when it hits the light, bitches will momentarily lose their sight.  She said, "I know what boys like, I know what they want, they want to sex me, they think I'm sexy.  I know what boys like, boys like me."

Just a little trip back in hip hop time when I actually liked Jay-Z.  This is going to be another one of those random post that I do from time to time.  Bear with me...

 I recently realized that I've never slept with more than one man at a time.  Wait, I'm not sure how you took that, but what I mean is that if I'm sleeping with one man, I don't sleep with anyone else.  I guess you would say that I'm sexually exclusive.  I just couldn't see myself going back and forth between men.  Twins on the same night at the same time, now thats another dirtier story.  I don't expect my lovahs to be sexually exclusive, but I do expect them to be discreet and most importantly clean.  Dont you ever fucking come to my house smelling like some other woman or just as bad, you own funky ass.

I thought I lost my The Incredibles DVD.  I love that movie!  Shit, who am I kidding I love Pixar almost as much as I love Jim Henson and thats saying alot if you know how I feel about the Muppets.  Speaking of the Muppets, I just got The Muppets Take Manhattan on dvd!  How cool is that!  (ok maybe not that cool to you, but cool as shit to me! fuck you very much if you think I'm a dork.  But I'm pretty sure dorks don't have head game like I do...)

Speaking of head game (is it wrong to segue from Muppets to Blowjobs?) can I just say as a woman, that I actually do quite enjoy the power of giving a blowjob.  The feel of having something so vulnerable yet so hard in the palm of my hand.  Doing just the right thing to make him hiss and that extra swirl of the tongue that will having him calling out.  If you're a woman and you're thinking that its an act of submission, than sweetie, you really haven't been doing it right.  And to the maybe 3 straight guys that may be reading this, if you learned to really enjoy eating the puss, (that is if you already don't) you'd probably get a hell of a different reaction than if you just eat it cause you think its what she wants you to do it.  If you don't enjoy it, chances are you're partner won't enjoy it either.

Sorry I haven't been around the blog world lately, I've been off playing with a boy.  Well at least part of the time.  I've also been cleaning this sty I call an apartment, fine tuning my resume (I should start sending it out by Wednesday) and trying to groom Duke.  It took me about 4 hours just to give him a really good brushing.  Then I spent another hour using the undercoat rake.  Then I needed a break so the next day I got started with the clippers, and we were doing pretty good until I tried to cut him back left leg.  He didn't want me on that side.  So I was pretty tired and said I would try the next day.  But then it snowed.  And since we live on the corner and own the lot next door I had to shovel all of that shit and I think I pulled something.  So the haircut is incomplete.  He looks alot better, but my back is fucking killing me from the snow shoveling.  Then it had the fucking nerve to rain the next day and most of that fuck ass snow disappeared and today it was in the 60s!?!  Fucking weetodd weather, I blame it on the industrial revolution.  Fucked up weather, cancer and pollution.  What a great fucking time in history that was...

579

I grew up in house number 583, and two doors down there was a house for mentally challenged individuals.  Back when I was growing up, it was uncommon for someone to call them retards.  But I grew up on the block, and some of those people were there just as long, if not longer, than I was.  One of my favorites, well at least one of the most entertaining, was Rosemary.  Whooo was that broad sometimey.  One minute, she'd be all, "Hi my Friend!" the next, "I don't want to talk to you, you bore me."  

Rosemary was also a compulsive nose picker, so it was best not to shake her hand.  And of course for some reason she always wanted to shake hands.  I think I was about 7 when I finally told her that I wouldn't shake her hand cause I knew she picked her nose, I saw her do it.  It didn't stop her from picking her nose, or trying to shake peoples hands, but at least I tried.  Rosemary was also one of the first white people that knew.  They were kind of hard to come by in Bed Stuy in the late 70s early 80s...

Then there was Donald.  He was much more independent that most of the other residents of 529.  He worked part time and used to go to the same church as my aunt.   He actually was in the choir.  Donald was a nice guy, he once gave me a quarter when I didn't have enough change at the corner store.  I gave it back to him, but I never forgot that he helped me out.  

Another big influence on my childhood was Derrick.  He needed more help than most of the other residents which meant that he wasn't outside as much as the rest of the guys at 529.  But like Rosemary and Donald he lived there for a long time.  Derrick loved music and even when he wasn't able to come outside, you could hear him playing jazz in his room.  Derrick also loved my Dad, so that always made him special to me.  My Daddy was a big jazz collector and it wasn't uncommon for him to pick records up for Derrick too.  After my Dad passed, Derrick would still ask me where Clarence was, and I'd have to explain.  It broke my heart each and every time he asked.  But then he'd tell me a story about him and my Dad, he had a million of them and he'd somehow find a way to make me smile again...

Introducing PYT

You're probably thinking Pretty Young Thang, and he is that, but he is also quite light skinded or as my sister has put it, he's high yellow.  If you don't know what that means, good.  If you do and think thats wrong of me to say, fuck you.  I'm joking.   About the yellow thing, not about the fuck you thing.  

you know in real life, I absolutely can not stand when people say things like likedided, or lookdided, or skinded...

Anywho, I met PYT (he's the 22 year old if you've been following along) back in November.  I tagged along, as I'm wont to do, with Cousin T to a party.  Now, I must say that Cousin T knows my varied taste in men quite well.  She's just about the only woman that I would trust to pick out a man for me, cause she knows what interest me in terms of appearance.  We often point out dudes that we think the other will like, and we are hardly ever wrong.  So when we walked into the party and she saw where I was looking she chuckles and says, "I thought you'd like him, he works at my school."  First thing out of my mouth, "Is he legal?" 

There was some flirting and an almost double date that never happened.  Then a couple of months passed.  I ran into him again at a house party.  That was the same house party that I met Big Mr. Bad at.  Needless to say, nothing continued to happen with PYT.  Then came the party the week before last.  And there he was again.  About 6'1", thin, and the most amazing amount of heat coming off of his crotch.  (You see I have this theory about the amount of heat relating to the size of the male appendage.  Let just say that it seems to be true...)  What can I say, I'm a bit of a perv and proud of it.

We finally got around to exchanging numbers and he finally thinks to ask me how old I am.  Proudly 30 and not showing it, thank you very much!  "Really?! Well maybe you can teach me a few things and I can return the favor."  Boy do I hope so!  So far he's proven himself to be well mannered, adventurous, adorable and proof positive that my aforementioned theory may very well be true...

A Lil Bit Of Trouble (aka Tiki)

My adventures in mischief began at an early age.  I think I mentioned getting my head stuck in a banister.  For the most part it was all petty stuff like sticking my finger in freshly iced cakes, or asking too many damn questions for the likes of some adults.  I didn't step up to the big time until the 2nd grade...

I was still in public school, in the Astor program for gifted and talented children which basically equated to a bunch of smartass trouble makers.  Boy did we pull off some scams back in the day, but this little caper was done all on my own.  I'm not sure if schools still require parents to sign all of their children's test, but I had this science test and I was pretty sure that I could forge Mommy's signature.  

I found something that she had signed in her desk drawer and set to work.  I'm not going to reveal my methods, but thinking back, they were pretty sophisticated for a 2nd grader.  I'm feeling pretty good about myself.  Wondering if maybe I should offer my services to some of the other kids.  I hand in my signed test at the end of class, gathering up my stuff when the teacher says, "Trouble can you please stay after class."

Busted!  The teacher took one look at the signature and knew it wasn't my moms.  She was confident that my mother wouldn't sign her name in erasable ink, at least not with so many smudge marks.  Guess I made too many corrections.  What Mommy couldn't figure out was why I would try to forge a signature on a test that I got a 89 on.  I guess I just wanted to see if I could do it.  That extra book report and chores sure served to teach me my lesson.  I never used erasable ink again...

Cocky

My mom always taught me that there is no shame in giving yourself a compliment.  To paraphrase Muhammad Ali, humble people don't get very far.  You don't know how many times she's sat back after eating a meal that she just cooked and said, "That was exactly what I wanted, it was delicious if I may say so myself."  So lets just say that at times, I'm cocky as hell.  I mean, when things are down, it always helps to take a look at the things that you have going for you.  

For example, I'm young, I'm pretty, and I hit hard.  Not to mention that I own my own home, an incredibly dangerous and cunning mind, and a shitload of very nice clothes.  The world is my runway, and I own that bitch, if I may say so myself.  No matter how I may be feeling, the face that I present to the world is polished, clean.  My clothes are my armor, my bag my shield, my smile my trusty sword, my mind that hidden dagger that will strike the final blow.  (if you're wondering where that last bit came from, I just finished watching The Return of the King, it got me kinda hyped.)

But even the baddest bitch has her moments of self doubt.  That runway is fraught with possible slips and falls, and no matter how many times you practice walking in those 5 inch heels (like the ones from my Polyvore below) there is still a possibility that you'll end up ass out and eye to eye with the cameras.  I slipped this week.  It could have been a full out face plant, but I managed to get my equilibrium and turn it into a full out twirl.  I was feeling a bit, anxious, out of sorts, paralyzed with fear at thought of the future.  So for a minute I retreated.  I've never had a problem being alone, I find myself wildly fascinating, plus I'm a great listener.  My imagination is powerful enough that I can disappear into the world of fiction, snuggled deeply in down (that is until it was fucking 68 degrees, what the fuck), a mug of tea at my bedside, a large snoring dog on the floor under the window.   And it was warm, and comfortable, and not in the least bit scary, or anxiety ridden.  Then Friday rolled around and Cousin T called, "Still want to go to that party with me?" It's Cousin T, so despite my internal hesitation, I immediately replied, "Yes."

Fuck!  A million little niggling thoughts are going through my mind.  Is Big Mr. Sad going to be there?  Is it going to be a bunch of 22 and 23 year olds?  Do I really have to get out of the bed?  What the fuck am I going to wear!?!?!  A couple of (*ahem) inhales later, and I calmed the fuck down.  What the hell am I so worried about.  Just get clean, then get dressed and represent in my usual you aint got shit on me style.  (That is after a couple more inhales.)  Two hours, one shower, some MAC and a banging outfit later (off the shoulder sweater tunic, with my leather look leggings over the knee boots, and a vintage rabbit fur jacket - everything was black except for the boots which are a deep red) and I was really feeling my self.  Four hours later and I had two new numbers in my phone and had refreshed my status as a Baby Cougar - 22 and 25 if you're wondering...

I Haven't Done One of These In Awhile

Polyvore time!

The Artist's Family

I watched the SuperBowl this year with the Artist's Family.  My sister, Hautechick, was supposed to go but sports and family gatherings have never been her strong suit.  If I had a dollar for everytime that I uttered "Oh, Hautechick wasn't feeling well so she stayed home" at a family function, I wouldn't be worrying about job security right now.  And I think if I tell you that she once failed gym in high school, that would be sufficient explanation on the sports thing.  I usually hate to fill in for her, but I'm still trying to pay her back for the time that she went on an interview for me.  This time was sooo not the case.  The Artist has one of the greatest families evah!  All mutlicultural and multiethnic, its wonderful to see what each individual adds to the mixture.  Their love for one another is evident, even in their fussing and fighting.  And they love to cook, eat and most importantly, feed people!  And even though they all said, "wow you look so much like your sister," everyone (except the Artist's 10 year old cousin, her 7 year old sister was giving me the side eye though) knew that I wasn't her off the bat.  I love people who pay attention.  The Artist's French Canadian Aunt (I just love her French Canadian/Trinidadian/Queens accent!) They all got a huge kick out of my t-shirt.  It said "Blame My Sister."  The 7 year old asked me where I got it...

Randomly Yours

• Can someone please explain to me why some states allow Independents to vote in Primaries and why others don't?
• And while your at it can you please explain what the hell a Super Delegate is?  And why Republican primaries were winner take all?  Please don't think I'm stoopid, it just seems that all of the explanations I've seen so far just seem to confirm my suspicions that we're not as democratic of a nation as we claim to be...
• Apparently white male democrats prefer Obama to Clinton, somehow that makes perfect sense to me.
• Obama and Edwards sound interesting to anyone else?
• It's Black History Month, a good friend of my family who happens to be a blues musician once called it Black Misery Month...
• I thought everyone knew that King Tut and Cleopatra were black Africans.  When I was a kid Budwiser used to put out a poster for Black History Month and my Aunt Bling had one with the great kings of Africa.  Tut sure as hell was on there back in the early 80's. 
• I've been trying to be more active, so I apologize if the post (and comments!) come sporadically.  (and can I just say that I am hella impressed with myself for spelling sporadically right on the first go!)
• I would love to travel the world and see the Pyramids, and the Parthenon, and the Great Wall of China and all of the other great structures of ancient times that we are still trying to figure out how the hell they built.  
• Speaking of which, I love Nova (a program on PBS.)  I talked about the Secrets of Lost Empires II: Pharaoh's Obelisk for weeks after watching it.  And I just caught the tail end of Secrets of the Parthenon, which is available to watch online.
• Hautechick and I made up.  It had something to do with karmic justice and catass.  Hilarious to the point that I had to call her to share a laugh.
• I got my taxes done today.  Whoot-whoot! for mortgage deductibility! I usually pay to have them done to save myself the time and damaged brain cells, but I usually avoid chain places.  I started with a new guy last year (thank you Hautechick) who is also a certified financial planner.  He's great.
• What the fuck is up with the weather?  It was 68 degrees in New York City today.  I saw a whole lot of stoopid people with bare legs and no jackets.  It's still February people...

Speaking of the Superbowl...

Did you notice that the lead ref was African American?  Can you fucking believe that in the year 2008, this is the first time that an African American has been the lead ref at the Superbowl?!?  Some fucking progress...

DID YOU FUCKING SEE THAT!!!

that being my Giants winning the superbowl!  That's right all you nay sayers and shit talkers - THE GIANTS WIN!  THE GIANTS WIN! 

And that wasn't fucking luck either.  The fucking amazing Giants Defensive line had Brady on the ground 18 TIMES!!  Did you see that Alford sack?  Did you see my newest boyfriend Osi Umenyiora (I am sooo buying myself his jersey tomorrow) and gap toothed Strahan hounding your boy Brady?  Had him sooooo fucking jumpy that shit was ridiculous!  And did you see soft ass looking Eli shake off those boys trying to sack and the fan fucking tastic catch made by Tyree?!?!  He caught that shit in the air with his helmet and one hand and still managed to hold on to it!  Take that New England, cause all anyone is going to remember of your almost perfect season is how you guys BLEW IT in the end. I bet Tiki Barber is feeling like a bit of an ass right now.  Never win a ring with Manning huh?  oh and in case you missed it the first time

THE GIANTS WIN! THE GIANTS WIN!!!

This message is brought to you by Trouble the tomboy

Thirteen eighteen!

I had a taste for a Quarter Pounder with Cheese today so I swung through the drive thru at MickeyD's.  I should point out that I hardly ever eat McD's, maybe about 3 times a year if I'm lucky. So I'm going thru the drive thru at the McD's on Atlantic and Ralph Avenue.  I mention the specific one cause if anyone if from Brooklyn and has gone through that drive thru knows what a pain in the ass it is.  You can enter the parking lot from Ralph but it takes some pretty fancy driving in order to get on the drive thru line from there.  And there is no way you'll be able to do it if there is more than one car waiting to place their order.

You can get directly into the drive thru lane from Atlantic Avenue, that is if you can avoid the cars that are picking up their orders.  (who ever designed this drive thru deserves the Ultimate Idjeet Award)  So after a quick yet cautious K turn, I'm on the drive thru line and place my order.  I go to the window to pick up and hand dude a $20.  I see him struggling.  A minute passes, a minute and a half.  I'm not the strongest at doing math in my head but by this time even I have figured out that its, "THIRTEEN DOLLARS AND EIGHTEEN CENTS Damn It!"  "Oh!  Thank you, the screen on the cash register is broken.  Have a blessed weekend!"

I never felt right cursing out people who bless me, so I settled for a mumbled "youtoo" and drove to the next window to pick up my food. 

The Weirdest Shit I Heard Today

So I know this guy, lets call him Ras.  He's from Trinidad and has dreads and its not unlikely to hear him go off about The Garden of Eden or The Nature of Man.  Buuuuut, he has a pretty thick Trini accent so I only understand about half of what he says. That always makes me very cautious when I have conversations with him.  So today I saw him and as usually despite the torrential downpour, he wants to have a confab.  I missed alot of it, that accent and his mumbling do not help, but here are some of the things I caught

"You'll be standing there a Pure Breed Dog, but everyone takes you for a man until you turn your back and become a God."

"I don't believe that no one is perfect.  I am exactly what Jah wanted me to be so therefore I am perfectly me."

"Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end..."

There was alot more about vexation, something about damnation, and a brief spiel about white niggers, but I missed alot of it trying to remember these three quotes.  I'm gonna have to start carrying a tape recorder so I can record his rants...

KoC - King of Crap

The King of Crap, cockblocker extraordinaire, was a guy that I used to see.  We met through mutual friends when I was about 22, it didn't work and he would put his bid in just about everytime we saw each other.  I was hesitant to start seeing him again because he's a bitch when it comes to running his mouth.  He once told one of my associates (not a close friend by any means) that I was amazing in bed.  Which lead to about a year and half of all the women that I hung out with speculating about how many men I had been with and odd questions at random times like, "when did you lose your virginity?"  "ever been with two men?"  "ever had sex with a woman?"  all of which were met with a why, their usual response being "Oh I was just curious."  Some women were stupid enough to follow that up with, "well?" to which they got a cocked eyebrow, a partial sneer and a "none of your fucking business."

But I figured that we had both not only gotten older, but that we had both matured.  I was really wrong about that.  We were together about 3 months last year before I made his ringer silent.  But it appears that he is making another play.  It started about two weeks ago when I got a call from a number that looked kind of familiar but I couldn't place.  I still haven't put my old contacts into my new cell phone.  

"Good Afternoon"

"Hey, Happy New Year"

"Thanks, who's this?"

"I'm afraid if I tell you, you'll hang up."

"Who is this?"

"King of Crap"

"Well you had that one right." CLICK!

Later that day I got a text message "Aren't you ever going to forgive me?  Damn your mean"  Oh, yeah insulting me has always been such a turn on for me, idjeet.  To KoC, if I'm angry, the answer is to leave me alone and let me get over or forget that I was angry.  I feel for it once, when I forgot why I stopped seeing him the first time (I still dont really remember), and I guess he figures that I'll go for it again.  There have been a couple of phone calls that I didn't answer in the following weeks.  But last night, he called me at 1 in the morning!  Did he think he might be able to finaggle some ass?  Was he trying to cockblock in case I had someone else over?  What the fuck was he thinking?  I WILL NOT let my curiousity get the better of me, and I can't even engage in the "stop fucking calling me!" convo.

KoC is the type of man who thinks that a woman doesn't care for him if she doesn't raise her voice at least once a week.  So I can't even go there without it giving him hope.  Besides, I got no time to be wasting yelling at a grown man.  When we last broke up, it was because he not only stood me up on Friday, but he didn't even call me until Sunday.  His excuse "Oh well I went out after work with some co-workers and I got drunk and I totalled my car and I forgot I was supposed to take you out.  My back really hurts can I come over so you can rub it?"  I'll admit, I lost it.  I called him all kinds of fuckers and shits and bitches.  I yelled, I screamed, I told him 12 different ways that I could not be involved with a man who was soo irresponsible and all that got through to him was that I really must care about him cause he finally got me to yell at him.  Fucktard.

Randomly...

• Hey did you know Blogger is now available in Arabic, Hebrew and Persian?  I thought that was kinda cool...
• So sometimes I miss comments that you guys leave for me and for that I apologize, but I can't believe that I missed that whole Anal Sex conversation!  Here's Wiki's article on Anal Sex if anyone is interested...
• "A maiden before and a martyr behind"!  Not me, but that line cracked me the fuck up!  Don't know what I'm talking about? Anal sex and Norman Mailer's Harlot's Ghost
• I just read this article about the recent changes in animal behavior; stingrays attacking humans (there was another incident shortly after the one with Steve Irwin), packs of wild dogs coming into towns and attacking people, monkeys holding water deliveries hostage, and ELEPHANTS RAPING RHINOS! (type that phrase into google and you'll get over 84,000 hits)
• Speaking of animal behavior, did you know that a Florida man was shot by a puppy in 2004?!?  It was considered self defense since the man was trying to kill the puppy and his six sibs.  He couldn't find them homes and had already killed 3 of the pups.  Then there is also the case where a hunting dog shot his owner in the leg.  Apparently its not uncommon for hunters to get shot by their dogs.  I also heard there was the dog that shot his owner in the back when the owner was beating his girlfriend, but I can't find a source for that story...
• LadyShay (fresh from Gasparilla) finds the coolest food shit!  Make and publish your own cookbook

Run Away...

I can freely admit that I have a problem with commitment.  Its not that it scares me, just that I like to take my time before I commit to someone.  There is nothing that will send me packing quicker than a man who makes more of the things that I do than is necessary.  

Need an example?  Let's start with Big Mr. Sad.  Our first date was, interesting to say the least.  Mostly because my entire immediate family was there for a portion of it.  (We went to one of the Artist gallery openings)  I tried to impress upon him that while this was a first for me, a man meeting my entire immediate family in one sitting, but that he shouldn't make a big deal out of it.  I told him that there was no pressure.  Not long after that, came The Conversation.  "Sooooo, are you seeing anyone else?"  "No not currently, how about you?" "Welllll, no one as special as you are..."  My bullshit meter went off, loudly, and for several reasons.

1. I'm the newest chick, we've only been on one date, you don't know I'm special yet.  There is no doubt in my mind that I am, special that is, but I haven't even put on my A game yet.
2. I highly suspect that he was telling me what he thought I wanted to hear.  Just a little hint about me, when it comes to the choice between some meaningless fluff designed to please the ears and the cold hard facts, I'm more comfortable with the cold hard facts.  Compliments are one thing, bullshit is a whole nother other
3. Didn't you hear the "not currently" that I slipped in?  That was a clear indication that I'm not going to commit myself to you after one date and wild ride

It wasn't soon after the Conversation that I started to pull back.  Another ex of mine makes for a good example too.  The King of Crap (cockblocker extraordinaire - more on that another time.)  Last summer, when we were still seeing each other, he was at my house and Mommy was cooking.  She called me upstairs and asked if I was hungry and if I wanted to feed him too.  I was hungry and feeling kinda mellow so I said yes to both.  Mommy was about to set the table when I asked if she would mind if we ate after her. "I don't want him to read anything more into this than there is, me being polite and not kicking him out or eating in front of his face."  Ok, Mommy ate then KoC and I ate.

Still during the last convo we had, he's gonna say, "You can't mean that you don't want to see me anymore.  What we have is special, you're Mom cooked for me and you're just going to let me go?!"  Thats about the time that I hung up the phone...