Frogs

I am without frogs. I told the creepy 41 year old not to call me anymore. Yes, it turns out he has issues. I'm not particularly surprised. In fact, I sort of called it. What, with him proposing to me damn near every day. This Saturday it will be one week since Island boy has called me. I have not called him ( be cool, Ice Cold) and even though I want to, I won't (c) Gwen Stefani, she sang it so well in Suspension without Suspense. I know what the outcome will be if I call him...and what it should be. Hopefully, I'm getting closer to finding a prince. But it's still looking bleak. The other day at the tire shop, two of the tire guys hit on me. Both appeared to be pretty wack. Prior to that, I discovered that I have a very cute Latin neighbor living across the street from me. He saw me outside trying to figure out how to change my flat tire and replace it with a dummy spare, and he ran over (like a prince would) and asked if he could please do it for me :). Of course, I let him. Since telling the 41 year old to kick rocks, he's begged me twice via text message for another chance, and called me 6 times since lunch today. For some people, kindness is not enough. He is one such person. He needs a therapist and i told him so. I hope this weekend is so much fun and so productive that these frogs become distant memories. I have an action packed plan that includes a Fruits de Mer (fruits of the sea) party, sample sales, dancing and mingling, and an outdoor reggae music fest.
I won't hold my breath, though. And I won't call.

Put it down on me

I used to have trouble getting this man to call me back when he said he would. Him saying “I’ll call you in five minutes” would turn into a call a week or more later. But ever since I cussed him out and we met up in Vegas a week ago, he’s been Johnny on the spot with his phone calls even though I've accepted that he's not much of a phone person. Color me surprised. The morning after our last night together, which was last Tuesday, on my way home from Vegas in the car with my family, he called me at 1pm. I wasn't expecting to hear from him, honestly, especially not so soon. I’d gotten my closure and was on my merry way. So, dare I say…he’s feeling me pretty hard these days? :) Within one week, he’s called me FIVE TIMES. That’s a record. Saturday morning he called me at 8:30am. Did he wake up thinking about me? What the hell is going on here? Whenever he calls, though, all I can do is smile and that song by Fifty Cent and Jeremih plays in my head, lol. Then when we hang up, I have the urge to get up and dance. But I have to “be cool, Ice Cold” © Outkast. I can’t get caught up in his rapture or it will surely be my demise.

I can’t stop thinking about him and his wonderful Callaloo. He must've put a root on me.

Purple Pain

I was strong armed into going to see Prince in concert and I woke up this morning angry about it. Now, the last time I spoke to my friend about this I told her that I wasn't all that interested in going to see him. Gas + $25 ticket + TicketMaster fees and surcharges + seats in the rickety old Forum + parking costs, etc = I’ll pass, thank you. But I guess she figured I was just sitting on the fence and needed pushing over. So she calls me up in the middle of what she KNEW was an extremely busy work day for me, and says “Quick! TicketMaster is only giving me 1 minute and 40 seconds to decide to buy these tickets or not. Can you go?”

“Huh?!” I say, bewildered, trying to remember if I have anything scheduled for the Friday in question as well as having no other details about this show (start time, etc.). Meanwhile, she’s steady pressuring me, telling me how many seconds remained on the clock like a bomb was ticking, until I just said, exasperated, “Sure. Get them.” Ugh. No planning, no coordinating schedules, no payment arrangements made – just the assumption that I would drive us both there and have to pay her back 25 of the dollars that I was trying to save. I just spent a grand on Costa Rica flights, woman! Ugh. So this morning I woke up irate as hell and made a mental note to email her the plan the way EYE see it: she’s driving to my house or she’s meeting me there, no if, and’s or buts. And I’m paying her back when I can, not immediately. She never asked if I had money, if I was struggling, broke or nothing. And she knows I just came back from Vegas, just bought tickets to the reggae fest for my cousin’s birthday, and got Hall & Oates tickets for the 4^th of July Fireworks Spectacular. I’m annoyed with her lack of forethought and if I weren’t a nice person, I’d let her suffer and lose money on that ticket. I honestly couldn’t give a rat’s ass about seeing Prince, and I actually told her this. I’d rather see Adele or Esperanza Spalding. See, her problem is that she’s an undercover racist and she’s afraid to go to the Forum with anyone white. And she drives this really old Maverick that she swears is a classic that everyone wants to steal. Despite me living in one of the safest neighborhoods in the city, on a short block with many geriatric Neighborhood Watch neighbors constantly watching my house, she doesn’t want to park her car in my driveway. Well, tough shit. I don’t want to drive from Pasadena to the valley or even Glendale, and then to Inglewood during rush hour on a Friday.

Update: I just got an email from her saying that I’m “off the hook,” she’ll find someone else. Lol. I only feel slightly bad about this. I hope she does find someone else and doesn't lose money.

Thank you, Jeebus

Mos Def turned up high! "What's your name love, where you came from? Neck and wrist laced up, very little make-up. The swims at the Reebok gym tone your frame up. Is sugar and spice the only thing that you made of?" It's Friday! Turn your shine WAY up, find your grove, be embolden, throw your shoulders back, hold your head high - be in the moment! YOU are the m*therf*cking bees-knees so let the world know! Don't let anybody buckle your stride or hold you back today. TGIF like a mother father :)

Callaloo & Salt Fish

Friday night I was on my way to pick up my son from his best friends’ house when I got a call from Island boy/Daniel. “Hey,” he said, as if nothing had transpired between us and, well, nothing had really. Just that it took him an entire week to get back to me, yet again. I went in, no holds barred, and was very straightforward, asking him all of the questions that I needed answers to. He stuttered a bit, stammered, but ultimately I felt as though I’d gotten the truth out of him. He said he needed to see the smirk on my face and wanted to discuss this with me in person, if possible.

“What time you getting here?” he asked. I told him precisely when I’d be arriving: 3:00pm.

He called me 30 minutes after I checked into the hotel and 20 minutes later we met up at a little café near my hotel for drinks and a chat. You name it, we discussed it. He says he didn’t even know I’d left him a voicemail because he’s terrible at checking them. I can relate because I never check my home voicemails and one of my close friends never checks her cell voicemails. She figures if it’s important enough, the caller will call back. But Daniel saw that I'd called. He admitted to that. In fact, he was expecting my call and he answered but didn't say anything. Hence my anger.

While showing him the pictures of our lovely hotel room, I snapped a picture of him blushing. Then I asked to see his ID and he showed it to me. He was born exactly 3 years and 1 day after me. Our birthdays are 1 day apart. Then he took me to dinner where more talking took place. He gives the best hugs. That night at about 11pm he came back, as promised, to drive me and my cousin around to a couple of clubs. We were trying to find a reggae spot to satisfy my cousin’s reggae jones, but no dice. At the second club, he and I got pretty steamy on the dance floor.

“He was all over you like a cheap suit!” my cousin teased the following morning. And he was. And I can’t say that it wasn’t fun or that I didn’t like it because it most definitely was and I definitely did. After the club he dropped us off at our hotel and stayed behind to talk to me in the lobby. I went up to my room at 4am.

The following day he called me at 1pm saying he’d just gotten up to make breakfast.

“What you making?” I asked

“Callaloo and salt fish with bread fruit. You ever had it?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it,” I said.

“Want me to bring you some?”

“Sure :)”

I won’t give a play by play of the entire 2.5 days/48+ hours (a LOT happened in that timeframe) but suffice it to say, I got more than the closure I was hoping for. Much more. And I’m now a fan of callaloo with salt fish and bread fruit.

Although I like Daniel, if I never see him again in life, I’ll be just fine. I am content with having known him. And I honestly feel like I do know him now.

Since I wrote this, he's called me twice.

Also, there’s a new candidate on deck. He’s a single dad who has full custody of his 13 year old son, has an exciting job that pays well, he’s American so I can fully understand him when we talk, is over 6 feet tall, bald, and grew up around the same neighborhood as I did. He told me he got saved 8 years ago but he doesn’t go to church every single Sunday. Oh, and he’s 5 years older than me. Since we met about a week ago, he’s asked me no less than 5 times to marry him and I have to admit, it’s a little disconcerting. He swears I am everything he’s looking for but he truly has no idea who I am. Marriage is the last thing I would hastily jump into, and it’s concerning me that he has no qualms about doing so. His reasoning behind wanting to marry me is highly suspect. I’m giving him a chance to get to know me and for me to know him, but something tells me this will be extremely short lived. We’re scheduled to go out to dinner this coming Friday.

Bible thumpers of the worst kind

I don’t like the uber religious. An acquaintance of mines is a church lady. She’s always preaching that “God is able” “God is good” rhetoric, which is fine and all and I do believe it, but she’s a phony and I’ll tell you why.
It’s always the ones who preach the most and the hardest who are the biggest sinners and scam artists. She used to be an exotic dancer groupie. And whenever she recants these tales from her not-so-distant past, she’s almost maniacal. She practically drools with excitement and lust, her eyes appear to glaze over and she starts talking really fast, almost like a drug fiend. And yes, she’s had sex with many of the guys she used to go see dance and likes to go into extreme detail when recanting these sexcapades. Oh, but that’s not even the half of it. She’s heavily in debt, like about to lose everything any day now, so she uses God as an excuse to ask for handouts. Just recently she tried to have a PayPal fundraiser for the funeral of her step fathers’ aunt’s 85 year old husband – no blood relation to her, mind you. Plus, he’d been ill for more than 6 months so his death was not untimely or a surprise. But who does that? How can you expect people to send you money to bury a man who isn’t any relation to you? And who’s foolish enough to believe that YOU are the sole person responsible for handling his funeral and its expenses, and that YOU would actually spend the money you receive for this mans funeral appropriately? Needless to say, I didn’t for one second believe any of it and kept my hard earned dollars in my wallet. This is a woman who, while crying broke, spent $600 on Disneyland season passes for her and her kids, who gets her hair and nails done regularly, and drives a relatively new car and tries to talk shit about the age of my car, lol. The nerve, when you can barely make rent…allegedly. So yes, I think she is a swindler and the worst kind because she uses God as her trump card. She plays the role well though. She’s always acting like a martyr when she’s caught being deceitful or in a lie (gotta keep up the charade if it’ll ever work). I guess it takes all kinds to make a world.
Another church lady I know will be getting married soon. She’s a Jehovah’s Witness these days and the man she’s marrying left his wife to be with her. However, he has no idea that her hair is fake, her teeth are fake, her nails are fake, and she wears a padded butt, lol. Oh, and she just had surgery on her vajayjay because, after many years without use, it had literally FALLEN OUT. Yes, you read that right. She couldn’t wear underwear because her cervix would rub against the fabric and bother her. So, this man, being a devout Jehovah’s Witness who left his wife for her, has no idea how made-for-TV his wedding night is going to be *snicker. He thinks she’s just saving herself for marriage and is a chaste good girl. Part of that is true. In addition, when this woman was ill and almost died in the hospital, her friend of 50 years who brought her food everyday WITHOUT a car, cannot be a part of her wedding because she is not a Jehovah’s Witness. But she can bring a gift to the ceremony. Now, what would God do?
Another J’s Witness lady I know who preaches nonstop is now in court for palimony. She married a widowed man because she thought that when his mother died she’d get her house, lol. Well, her mother in law was hip to her and left the house to her other son in her will. Shortly after that, the J’s Witness lady and her hubby moved into a trailer park, he hurt himself and couldn’t work, and now that they’re getting divorced she has to pay him spousal support.
God don’t like ugly.

I guess it's kismet

On Friday I said I needed to see him in order to get closure. Yesterday morning he called me. He didn't mention my voicemail the week after Easter telling him that we weren't going to work out. He pretended like it hadn't happened. I played along. So next week around this time I will be in Las Vegas and it looks like I'll be seeing him. Will this be the last time, the last hug and final kiss? Stay tuned to find out.

On my mama. On my hood. I look fly. I look good. Touch my swag. Wish you could! Walking every day is great. When that afternoon lull hits, walking gives me just enough of an energy boost to plow through the rest of my day. Rather than wasting away in front of the television or computer after work, I am productive. Some afternoons I’ll take a nap at lunch time, which gives me my second wind for the second half of my work day. And then when I get home I’ll go for a brisk evening walk with my ipod jamming and return home totally pumped up. I sleep better at night, I feel better during the day, and my life is much more organized, meaningful, and constructive. Oh, and my figure isn’t looking too shabby either. Last night I tried on three of my four bikini’s and felt confident enough to wear them to the pool next weekend while I’m in Vegas. I confess that I’m hoping to run into Daniel, though I doubt that I will. Yes, yes, I told him that I wasn’t interested in a casual relationship, which is true, but I am still interested in him. He was the perfect mixture of intelligence and… hood (for lack of a better word). He was also the perfect height and weight, and his face was beautiful. Charming and fine, such a winning combination. So why did I leave him a voicemail message telling him that it was fun and wishing him well? Because I knew I’d end up sad and hurt. He doesn’t live nearby and we weren’t talking like I thought we should. Two weeks ago he called me twice within a 2 minute time span and I didn’t pick up my phone. Then the following morning he called again at 9am saying that he was worried that I was done with him. He figured I was done because prior to those three back-to-back calls he hadn’t called me in a week and one day. He left me hanging one Thursday after a brief chat, saying “I’ll call you back.” And I waited and wondered just when he would, which is a horrible feeling – to wait and wonder. And then when we finally did speak again he said he’d call me back ten minutes into that conversation. There was no stability with him at all. He didn’t like to make promises, he said, because if he couldn’t keep them everyone would be disappointed. That was the first red flag – an inability to commit to anything, wishy-washy. Here I go talking about him again. Ugh. Weeks after I let him go, I’m still holding on and he doesn’t even know it. Anyway, he knows that I’m coming to town the 2^nd week of May but I didn’t give him exact dates so he’s probably assuming I’ll be there Friday and Saturday (if he still cares), which are typical Vegas-vacation dates. But I won’t be there Friday or Saturday. I’m coming in on Sunday. I won’t attempt to call him but I will be paying close attention to my cellphone, I’ll admit, hoping that he calls me. I’ll go on about my trip as planned and let kismet do the rest. What’s meant to happen will happen. And if he does just so happen to call me, I’ll ask to see him. I think I need to in order to get him out of my system.