1. Vacation is officially over. =(
2. So that means I should try to get back in a regular sleeping pattern
3. I've committed to working out again, specifically running
4. this time the goal is to do it at least four days a week
5. and that's easier said and done
6. I have this strange fear that daylight savings time is going to mess me up this year
7. I want to see Good Hair. I kinda want to see Precious, but someone will have to see it for me first and let me know how graphic it is. Deal?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Return From Paradise
I'm back from the beach, and it was just as wonderful as I thought it would be. This particular locale is just a four-hour drive from my home, but four hours certainly makes the difference. The weather was WONDERFUL -- practically reaching 90 degrees on one day -- and the ocean air was seriously therapeutic. During my four days there, I ate and ate and ate and ATE, and slept and slept and slept, walked and walked and walked, and a did bit of shopping that led me to purchase my very first Christmas gift.
It was interesting visiting this beach in the off season. It wasn't crowded, but it wasn't a ghost town either. And most of the people who were there were white, but they didn't seem to look at my group sideways. So that was a good thing.
The last time I visited this beach I was a teenager, celebrating the sweet 16 of another friend. This friend was the daughter of one of my mom's friends, so you know how that goes -- "I have a daughter your age. Her name is M. You guys should hang out!" So over the years, I spent quite a bit of time with M, whether I liked it or not. (For the record, I did like M, who was about a year younger than me. We spent many an evening at her family's drunken gatherings trying to sip from the adult punch. Most times we succeeded)
For her 16th birthday, M's mother arranged it so that M could have a hotel room on the beach with three other friends. That wound up being me, M's best friend Erica, and an older girl I'll call Courage, since her first name was my middle name. We were all in awe of Courage -- she was 19, tall, shapely and beautiful. She had a daughter at home and was the only one among us who seemingly had a clue of what to do in that mysterious ritual of make up. We'd stay up all hours of the night, running to the beach, laughing on the streets and meeting strangers on the strip of road that ran right next to the beach. We'd sleep until 1 or 2 in the afternoon, and our only meals -- including breakfast -- came from Zero's, an excellent sub shop in town.
We did meet a couple of guys while we were there. The ones that stayed with us the longest were these older dudes that were in the Navy (they were 19 and 20, if I remember correctly). Most of the girls in my group were oohing and ahhing about this one guy, cause he looked like Prince. But I was more interested in his Cousin, who looked nothing like Prince, but was just as good looking. They hung out with us the rest of the time. The most memorable part of the week was when the seven of us -- they brought a friend along -- got together to play strip Uno. Now, anyone who knows me well, knows that my part in the game consisted of me taking off my watch, my earrings, and my shoes. And NOTHING else. But Prince had no shame, and got down to nothing in the end. Fun times.
We all promised to keep in touch after the vacation, but you know how that goes. My mom got a new job and eventually lost touch with M's mother. My mother was my main connection to M, so that fell away. Prince's Cousin and I wrote letters for awhile, but that didn't go anywhere. Through our exchanges, I learned that dear Cousin couldn't spell -- for example, "you're my Miss Wright", etc -- and a pet peeve developed. I went into my senior year of high school, met the first love and stopped answering Cousin's letters. Eventually, he stopped writing them.
So going back to this beach recently was truly a trip down memory lane. I'm an adult now and truly can't stomach the thought of eating a cheesesteak for breakfast, even though it crossed my mind often as I passed Zeroes. I crossed paths with quite a few cuties, but I wouldn't even dream of inviting them up to my place for strip Uno. (for two reasons: 1. I was with my parents and 2. I'm just not that crazy anymore) It was truly relaxing. Still, there was part of me that missed the traffic in the streets, the car horns, the "hey shawty"s and the illegible phone numbers scribbled on ketchup-stained napkins. Ahhh, youth.
Photo from http://www.youthblog.org/archives/teenagers%20hiphop%20cartoon.jpg
Monday, October 05, 2009
Back At It
Been gone for a loooooong time, but I’ve got no reason for it, really …. Things have been good, REALLY GOOD actually, I just haven’t had a moment to blog …. I could blame it all on the fact that I was without home Internet access for at least a week (**grrr, Verizon!**) … Or that I’ve found other things to do in my spare time (working, novel #2, the three books I’m reading) … Or that I’ve had Blogger’s Block (that’s kinda true) … So you’ll have to bear with me as I think of some things to write about …. In the meantime, I will say that I’m excited about the upcoming fall colors, even if it means a little chill in the air .. I’m happy my crazy boss is on vacation for a week … And when he gets back, I’m GOING ON VACATION!!! … Yes, I’ll be at the beach …. It’ll be a family vacation, my first in about 10 years … That’s what happens when the funds are low and someone offers me a free trip … Who am I to say no? …. Let’s just hope I don’t kill anyone … Or get killed, Mamasan can be kinda scary when she wants to be … I do plan on getting some sun, fun, and lots of laughs ….
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Squirrels -- Too Cute!
I'm posting this video because it's just adorable, and I have to share! A more significant post is coming sometime soon, I promise. In the meantime, please check this out:
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The Facebook Fast
I am on the 22nd day of my self imposed Facebook fast. That means I have not been logging onto Facebook, at all. That’s right. My Lexulous games have fallen by the wayside. My status update is blank. Chatting has been unavailable. And I haven’t poked anyone in a very long time.
The reason for this change is that as lovely and wonderful as Facebook can be in the beginning, it can be a bit overwhelming. There was a time I was obsessed with it; I couldn’t start my day without logging in, checking folks’ status updates or updating my own. And the games, oh the games! Those were the best part. It was quite beautiful.
But as time went by, I realize that this website is nothing more than a 24-7 high school/family reunion. In the beginning, it seems like a good idea to invite everyone you’ve ever met to your space for a little get together. Yet it doesn’t take long to realize that might not have been a good idea. Do I really need to hear about High School Friend getting her tubes tied? Do I need to be tagged in photos of me playing in the sandbox with Mr. (Suspected) Serial Killer? Does dear Aunt Irene really want to know what Sex and the City character I am?
Yes, it can be that bad. I have just over 200 Facebook friends and quite a few of them are friends in Facebook only. Whenever someone sent me a friend request, I would accept if this was someone I knew. It got a bit dicey when people from high school, folks I didn’t particularly care for, sent me requests. I tried to move past being an immature teenager and holding on to grudges, so I’d accept the request and consider a new day. But the teenybopper inside me would rear her ugly head every so often, forcing me to examine their pages to make sure they were suffering for whatever wrong they may have inflicted on me back in the day.
On my friend list, there are a few types I’ve noticed:
The Oversharers: Status messages about their bathroom habits, arguments with significant others, etc. My particular favorite is an old supervisor who took a quiz that announced that she’d like to have sex at least three times a day and bragged about it in her status update. My brain will never recover from that image.
The Political Causer: I’m glad you feel some kind of way about Michael Vick, President Obama, Michael Jackson, health care reform, animal rights, abortion, etc etc etc, but please don’t try to pull me into your debates. In fact, your constant mentioning of your cause, or sending me invitations to your groups, is leading me closer and closer to eliminating you from my friends list. (See also News Analyst)
The reason for this change is that as lovely and wonderful as Facebook can be in the beginning, it can be a bit overwhelming. There was a time I was obsessed with it; I couldn’t start my day without logging in, checking folks’ status updates or updating my own. And the games, oh the games! Those were the best part. It was quite beautiful.
But as time went by, I realize that this website is nothing more than a 24-7 high school/family reunion. In the beginning, it seems like a good idea to invite everyone you’ve ever met to your space for a little get together. Yet it doesn’t take long to realize that might not have been a good idea. Do I really need to hear about High School Friend getting her tubes tied? Do I need to be tagged in photos of me playing in the sandbox with Mr. (Suspected) Serial Killer? Does dear Aunt Irene really want to know what Sex and the City character I am?
Yes, it can be that bad. I have just over 200 Facebook friends and quite a few of them are friends in Facebook only. Whenever someone sent me a friend request, I would accept if this was someone I knew. It got a bit dicey when people from high school, folks I didn’t particularly care for, sent me requests. I tried to move past being an immature teenager and holding on to grudges, so I’d accept the request and consider a new day. But the teenybopper inside me would rear her ugly head every so often, forcing me to examine their pages to make sure they were suffering for whatever wrong they may have inflicted on me back in the day.
On my friend list, there are a few types I’ve noticed:
The Oversharers: Status messages about their bathroom habits, arguments with significant others, etc. My particular favorite is an old supervisor who took a quiz that announced that she’d like to have sex at least three times a day and bragged about it in her status update. My brain will never recover from that image.
The Political Causer: I’m glad you feel some kind of way about Michael Vick, President Obama, Michael Jackson, health care reform, animal rights, abortion, etc etc etc, but please don’t try to pull me into your debates. In fact, your constant mentioning of your cause, or sending me invitations to your groups, is leading me closer and closer to eliminating you from my friends list. (See also News Analyst)
The News Analyst: I read a newspaper daily, but what’s missing from this consumption is your opinion on whatever article I read. Thanks for providing this missing link in my life! Double thanks for doing it 57485748573 times a day!
The Non Speller: I mentioned before that I can be quite anal about spelling and grammar. That being said, I’d be pretty embarrassed if I told everyone on my friend’s list that I was “trying to help my son deal with his great grandmother’s deaf.” Same thing if I realized “their aren't enough hours in the day.”
The Throwback: “Hi, Strength! Remember me? We were best friends in third grade! What have you been up to since then? Are you still collecting Garbage Pail Kids? I am!”
I could go on and on, but I’ll stop there. These are just a few of the problems I’ve run into with the infamous Facebook. My diet will end on August 27, at which time I’ll see what kind of tomfoolery I may have missed while I was gone. Probably nothing. And if I did miss anything, it is probably for the best.
I’m not saying my entire Facebook experience has been bad, it just can be a bit much. And what can you expect when you have a list that’s a mix of family, friends and past/current coworkers? Drama. From the outside looking in, I’ve seen relationships both start and end on this teeny little site. (At the risk of being even more longwinded, here's a funny video of the site's impact on relationships)
In the end, Facebook has left me with one important lesson: Sometimes, it’s okay to lose touch with folks.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
'Some days you’re the dog. Some days you’re the hydrant.'
I use the above phrase every now and again to deal with the times when I’m having a bad day. Which can happen to me every now and again. Hey, I’m only human.
A true testament of being the hydrant came this week. I should mention that the demographics have started to shift slightly in my department. These changes make me the only one in several categories, especially with the women. At 32, I’m the oldest. I’m the only sistah. And I learned recently that I’m the only one lacking something that every woman in their twenties and thirties tends to desire.
That’s right. I’m the only one without a ‘Dog.’
It was cool for awhile, being without a Dog. A coworker and I, Gabby, would go to the movies and for the occasional drink, while the rest of the chicks would be home tending to their Dogs. We’d laugh at them for their life choices. Surely they’d rather be with us, than with some mangy old beast that does nothing but eat, poop, and watch Sports Center. Surely they envied our independence, the fact that we could go out on a moment’s notice without worrying about what the Dog would eat for dinner or if it would be upset with us. We didn’t have to worry about phone calls in the middle of the day that documented whatever crisis the Dog may have gotten into. Gabby and I knew we had the upper hand. We chatted about Dogs a lot. We had our fair share and for a variety of reasons, we'd been solo for quite awhile.
Well, things started to change. Gabby started dressing nicer. She began laughing more. And her giggle, which is already a bit loud, got about five screeches higher. Then I learned through the rumor mill that it was true – dear Gabby had gotten a Dog. I congratulated her, then I thought about how the tide had shifted. All around me, there are women with Dogs. Some of the Dogs are good, some of the Dogs are bad. Some of the Dogs have officially been made members of the family, some of them (very few) have yet to make that step. Gabby is in the latter category, but things look promising.
There have been times when someone has asked me why I don’t have a Dog and I’ve been able to laugh it off. But with me now being the oldest woman – and the only one without a Dog – it’ll be interesting to see how I cope.
This week was a true testament to that. Another coworker – Phoebe – had a big announcement. Her Dog popped the question, so they are on their way to happyhood. I congratulated her, but I knew this would only be the beginning. I should mention that Phoebe is already unbearable on her birthday, running around every five minutes literally shouting “did you celebrate meeee today???”, so I knew she’d be particularly insane when it came to this. And I was right. She answered the phone several times to talk about how wonderful her dog was, her plans, etc etc. Between that and some other work challenges, I pulled a Ferris Bueller. I told them I wasn’t feeling well and I rushed to the mall and the movies. What’d I see? The Proposal! (But it was very funny, I might add)
I don’t like to compare my life to other women’s lives because that’s an impossible battle. I know we all have our personal struggles, whether our names be Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Florida Evans or Miranda Bailey. But dang it, I can covet with the best of em! There are times when I want nothing more than a good looking, fun loving Dog. One that won’t run away. One that won’t be impregnating all the other bitches in the neighborhood. One that will lick my face and nobody else’s. Then again, I wonder if I’m so set in my ways that a Dog wouldn’t fit well with my lifestyle. Another thought occurred to me recently: do I really want a Dog, or is it just that everyone’s pressuring me to get one? Deep thoughts.
Either way, I am genuinely happy for Gabby and Phoebe and I’ve told them so. I’ve even gotten used to Phoebe’s constant recounting of her popping the question story. I managed to give kind words with a smile. I can only hope I’ll be able to do the same the next time someone asks me when I’ll get a Dog.
A true testament of being the hydrant came this week. I should mention that the demographics have started to shift slightly in my department. These changes make me the only one in several categories, especially with the women. At 32, I’m the oldest. I’m the only sistah. And I learned recently that I’m the only one lacking something that every woman in their twenties and thirties tends to desire.
That’s right. I’m the only one without a ‘Dog.’
It was cool for awhile, being without a Dog. A coworker and I, Gabby, would go to the movies and for the occasional drink, while the rest of the chicks would be home tending to their Dogs. We’d laugh at them for their life choices. Surely they’d rather be with us, than with some mangy old beast that does nothing but eat, poop, and watch Sports Center. Surely they envied our independence, the fact that we could go out on a moment’s notice without worrying about what the Dog would eat for dinner or if it would be upset with us. We didn’t have to worry about phone calls in the middle of the day that documented whatever crisis the Dog may have gotten into. Gabby and I knew we had the upper hand. We chatted about Dogs a lot. We had our fair share and for a variety of reasons, we'd been solo for quite awhile.
Well, things started to change. Gabby started dressing nicer. She began laughing more. And her giggle, which is already a bit loud, got about five screeches higher. Then I learned through the rumor mill that it was true – dear Gabby had gotten a Dog. I congratulated her, then I thought about how the tide had shifted. All around me, there are women with Dogs. Some of the Dogs are good, some of the Dogs are bad. Some of the Dogs have officially been made members of the family, some of them (very few) have yet to make that step. Gabby is in the latter category, but things look promising.
There have been times when someone has asked me why I don’t have a Dog and I’ve been able to laugh it off. But with me now being the oldest woman – and the only one without a Dog – it’ll be interesting to see how I cope.
This week was a true testament to that. Another coworker – Phoebe – had a big announcement. Her Dog popped the question, so they are on their way to happyhood. I congratulated her, but I knew this would only be the beginning. I should mention that Phoebe is already unbearable on her birthday, running around every five minutes literally shouting “did you celebrate meeee today???”, so I knew she’d be particularly insane when it came to this. And I was right. She answered the phone several times to talk about how wonderful her dog was, her plans, etc etc. Between that and some other work challenges, I pulled a Ferris Bueller. I told them I wasn’t feeling well and I rushed to the mall and the movies. What’d I see? The Proposal! (But it was very funny, I might add)
I don’t like to compare my life to other women’s lives because that’s an impossible battle. I know we all have our personal struggles, whether our names be Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Florida Evans or Miranda Bailey. But dang it, I can covet with the best of em! There are times when I want nothing more than a good looking, fun loving Dog. One that won’t run away. One that won’t be impregnating all the other bitches in the neighborhood. One that will lick my face and nobody else’s. Then again, I wonder if I’m so set in my ways that a Dog wouldn’t fit well with my lifestyle. Another thought occurred to me recently: do I really want a Dog, or is it just that everyone’s pressuring me to get one? Deep thoughts.
Either way, I am genuinely happy for Gabby and Phoebe and I’ve told them so. I’ve even gotten used to Phoebe’s constant recounting of her popping the question story. I managed to give kind words with a smile. I can only hope I’ll be able to do the same the next time someone asks me when I’ll get a Dog.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The MJ Coma Continues
So yes, I've been listening to my MJ tunes at a constant rate. I'm singing at the top of my lungs at home and in the car. And don't let 'Dirty Diana' come on. Cuz that is when I completely LOSE IT. I loved all of Michael's music, but if I had to pick a couple of favorites -- notice I said 'couple', cuz I can't pick just one -- 'Dirty Diana' would easily make my top four list.
I started thinking about Michael's music videos and how amazing they were. Nobody did music videos like Michael did. Folks always talk about how he changed the game with the vids for 'Smooth Criminal', 'Remember the Time', 'Scream,' 'Black or White' and with 'Thriller', which I count as a movie. But the video for 'The Way You Make Me Feel' is one that I also appreciate. It's so raw, so real. I mean, it's MJ seriously flexing his mack daddy vibe. It is also a stalker's wet dream. I can't even count the number of aggressive pelvic thrusts he did in this video. Let's take a look, shall we:
If this were to happen in real life, can you imagine the 911 call that came afterward? Or how ole girl described the situation to the cops? I can!
Girl: I was coming home from the club, and these guys started yelling at me. This one guy was really aggressive and he shouted out, 'HEY!'
Cop: Yeah? So what'd you do?
Girl: I was shocked. Scared to death. So I just stood there and he said something about me knocking him off his feet. Then he started screaming.
Cop: Screaming?
Girl: He was screaming, then he was singing. And he and his friends started following me. Umm, why are you looking at me like that?
Cop: I'm sorry, but you look a little like Mariah Carey.
Girl: Who?
Cop: Mariah! You know her. She's got that song, 'Vision of Love'. It was a big hit in the 90s.
Girl: Sir, it's 1987.
Cop: Oh, right. Forgot about that. So he's singing, screaming and chasing you, then what?
Girl: He and his boys corner me at one point, and then ... and then ... and then ...
Cop: WHAT??
Girl: They start humping the ground! The fire hydrant broke and there was water flying everywhere. He ripped off his shirt and the water fell all over his body. And uhh .... You stopped writing.
Cop: It's your hair! That's what makes me think of Mariah. I'm trying to remember the last time I saw it curly. Why do you think she started straightening it?
Girl: Look, I'm trying to report a crime here! Keep up with me.
Cop: Ok, ok. There was humping. There was water. What next?
Girl: The main guy -- the ringleader -- he kept yelling "GO'ON GIRL!! EEEE-HEEE-EEE! OW!" But there was something about him, something so spectacular, that I suddenly felt myself drawn to him. So I let him hug me and he disappeared.
Cop: Did you want him to touch your body?
Girl: WHAT?
Cop: Never mind. I've got to wrap this up. We've got a disturbance at the cemetery, then I have to get to my bodyguard detail.
Girl: You're a bodyguard?
Cop: Somebody's gotta make sure Annie's okay. So did you have anything else to say about your floor humping, screaming, singing attacker?
Girl: No, that's it.
Cop: According to the description you gave our artist, your attacker looks alot like Michael Jackson! Was it him?
Girl: Well, yeah. But I didn't say want to rat him out. He kept saying 'ain't nobody's business.'
Cop: Oh Mariah. I do believe you're a looney tune. I suggest you get your mental illness in check. It can only hurt you down the line.
Girl: I AM NOT THIS MARIAH PERSON!
Cop: Sure thing, honey. How 'bout you sign this autograph and I won't charge you for filing a false police report?
Girl: (sighs) Fine.
I started thinking about Michael's music videos and how amazing they were. Nobody did music videos like Michael did. Folks always talk about how he changed the game with the vids for 'Smooth Criminal', 'Remember the Time', 'Scream,' 'Black or White' and with 'Thriller', which I count as a movie. But the video for 'The Way You Make Me Feel' is one that I also appreciate. It's so raw, so real. I mean, it's MJ seriously flexing his mack daddy vibe. It is also a stalker's wet dream. I can't even count the number of aggressive pelvic thrusts he did in this video. Let's take a look, shall we:
If this were to happen in real life, can you imagine the 911 call that came afterward? Or how ole girl described the situation to the cops? I can!
Girl: I was coming home from the club, and these guys started yelling at me. This one guy was really aggressive and he shouted out, 'HEY!'
Cop: Yeah? So what'd you do?
Girl: I was shocked. Scared to death. So I just stood there and he said something about me knocking him off his feet. Then he started screaming.
Cop: Screaming?
Girl: He was screaming, then he was singing. And he and his friends started following me. Umm, why are you looking at me like that?
Cop: I'm sorry, but you look a little like Mariah Carey.
Girl: Who?
Cop: Mariah! You know her. She's got that song, 'Vision of Love'. It was a big hit in the 90s.
Girl: Sir, it's 1987.
Cop: Oh, right. Forgot about that. So he's singing, screaming and chasing you, then what?
Girl: He and his boys corner me at one point, and then ... and then ... and then ...
Cop: WHAT??
Girl: They start humping the ground! The fire hydrant broke and there was water flying everywhere. He ripped off his shirt and the water fell all over his body. And uhh .... You stopped writing.
Cop: It's your hair! That's what makes me think of Mariah. I'm trying to remember the last time I saw it curly. Why do you think she started straightening it?
Girl: Look, I'm trying to report a crime here! Keep up with me.
Cop: Ok, ok. There was humping. There was water. What next?
Girl: The main guy -- the ringleader -- he kept yelling "GO'ON GIRL!! EEEE-HEEE-EEE! OW!" But there was something about him, something so spectacular, that I suddenly felt myself drawn to him. So I let him hug me and he disappeared.
Cop: Did you want him to touch your body?
Girl: WHAT?
Cop: Never mind. I've got to wrap this up. We've got a disturbance at the cemetery, then I have to get to my bodyguard detail.
Girl: You're a bodyguard?
Cop: Somebody's gotta make sure Annie's okay. So did you have anything else to say about your floor humping, screaming, singing attacker?
Girl: No, that's it.
Cop: According to the description you gave our artist, your attacker looks alot like Michael Jackson! Was it him?
Girl: Well, yeah. But I didn't say want to rat him out. He kept saying 'ain't nobody's business.'
Cop: Oh Mariah. I do believe you're a looney tune. I suggest you get your mental illness in check. It can only hurt you down the line.
Girl: I AM NOT THIS MARIAH PERSON!
Cop: Sure thing, honey. How 'bout you sign this autograph and I won't charge you for filing a false police report?
Girl: (sighs) Fine.
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