This is some bullshit

How do you go to work and get sick? Because lousy motherfuckers just refuse to keep their sick, germy asses at home! So I'm sitting at my desk this morning drinking a bottle of orange juice that I got out of the work fridge and my throat is feeling a little scratchy. Now I was fine and energized just yesterday, smiling and feeling absolutely fine, so I think it's the acidic orange juice messing with my throat. I cough. Then I cough some more, and some more. And then my coworker, the annoying one who kisses his muscles, pumps his fists and thinks he's cute, comes by my door and says "oh, you've got that cough that's going around, huh? I've got some great cough drops if you want one." I say no, thank you, it's just the orange juice. lol. Silly me. I had no idea there was a "cough going around." Then it dawns on me that this asshole must've came to work sick and spread his germs, which is WHY he just so happened to have a fucking bag of Ricola at his desk. So I'm coughing and coughing and he brings me a cough drop, despite me telling him it was unnecessary. Clearly, he knew something I did not at the time.
Anyway, I spent the remainder of my day feeling woozy and coughing. I haven't been sick in over two years! I successfully avoided all the sicko's at work for a LONG period of time. At one point I was the only person in my office that had not caught the latest cold that had been going around. And now I've been blindsided. Ambushed! I was totally unprepared for this hot weather bullshit. I am ANGRY. I just don't understand how hard it is, especially if you're a salaried employee, to keep your sick ass at home and spare us all. I don't get it. My only explanation is that the people who do this are selfish and insensitive jerks. And this isn't his first or even his second offense. He's the asshole who spread his stye all around the office and then pretended like it wasn't him. Meanwhile, both of his eyes were the first to be fucked up, swollen and gooey. Arrrggghhh! And this is a holiday weekend, too. I'm so upset. I feel like kneeing him in the groin.

Missing Mike

I'm still too hurt to adequately convey my feelings about Michael Jackson's passing but I'll give it a try. I haven't allowed myself to cry I think because I haven't quite reconciled my personal feelings over the death of a man I never met but knew so intimately. He was... a part of my life, most certainly. My neighbor and playmate as a child, Crystal had his poster on her wall. The one with him in that yellow and white outfit wearing a yellow bow tie and cardigan. I think it came with the Thriller album. Unlike 90% of the girls at my elementary school, I never had a romantic crush on Mike but I could appreciate his seemingly charming demeanor, his kind and innocent eyes, his talent, his ability to get even me on my feet and dancing. We went to see him and the Jackson 5 perform at Dodger Stadium when I was a kid and I danced all night. Shy little me :). That same night I developed a crush on Michael's brother, Marlon when he sang "Girl I want your body" lol. Me and Crystal watched the Jackson 5 cartoon on Saturday mornings. My mother owned all of Michael's records so I heard his singing religiously, and I owned an official Michael Jackson doll with the red and black signature "leather" suit. He totally knocked my Ken doll out of the box. I loved Michael and in my heart I feel that he was deeply misunderstood and far too idolized. This has all been said before, I know, so this post is purely cathartic for me. I need to get it out so bare with me. Just knowing that we no longer share the same sky is eating me up inside. I took him for granted, never imaginging that he'd someday be gone. He left an immense legacy though and even if the radio stations were to play his music all week long I doubt they'd cover his entire catalog.

My emotions are so mixed. I go from disbelief to sadness to rage and back to disbelief. He's really gone? Yet he's all over my television and radio and computer. It's too much yet not enough. While I want to honor this paradox of a man and his memory, I also want to protect him from all the slander and gossip the media and callous people are sure to drudge up. He was a human being, a child of God like the rest of us. NOT a God, himself. Yet people love to scrutinize him, throw stones at him as if they aren't living in glass houses themselves, vulnerable to imperfection. He was the most fascinating person of my lifetime. Maybe it's selfish of me to wish he were still alive. This could be the peace he always wanted. RIP Michael Joseph Jackson Sr.

Calgon, take me away

I'm so tired. My only ambition is going home and relaxing. I just don't have it in me today and my vacation couldn't come fast enough. I'm ready to begin my rejuvenation, leave town and my responsibilities for a couple of days, eat well, see/learn new things, meet new people, rest and treat myself well. I want a mani/pedi, a massage and a new hair style. This hampster wheel is exhausting and it's high time I got off for a bit. Some big wigs are visiting the office today and my boss is piling my plate sky high with things to do before tomorrow but my mind is resisting it all. My mind is urging me to go home, it's coming up with all these reasons why I should and how I could. Perhaps this is cause for a mental health day. I can't take it anymore, I'm just not here today. When Judith on Two and a Half Men went to Hawaii, Charlie and Allen were wondering what she needed a vacation for, and Jake told them "to get away from me. Duh." They cued the laugh track but I wasn't laughing. That was so real and on the money, it wasn't funny.
Maybe I can make it through one more day :(

Untitled

Do you ever think about your past loves? Maybe I'm using "love" too loosely. Do you ever reminisce on old romances? I do. I think I've had some pretty great ones. A bunch of little chick flick movie moments. Forget about the deal breakers and all of the seemingly (or actually) bad stuff that ultimately led to the demise of these relationships and just swoon over the plush, sweet and juicy times. I don't think I'll ever forget the names of those who truly stood out with me. I'm going to do my best not to. I may have granddaughters someday who might appreciate hearing these stories. Like Gabe. I'm just going to focus on the good things here, lol. Gabe was a bartender. He bragged to his friends that I was a "slim Hawaiian silky" hahaha. He gave me a piggy back ride, to my giggling dismay, through the South Bay Galleria mall parking lot and into the Sharper Image where we goofed around some more and the store clerks (two young guys who I believe that, had I not been with Gabe, wouldn't have taken a liking to me) allowed me to ride a display scooter all around the store like a maniac. Gabe glared at them like the alpha male wolf and then whisked me away to the food court where we shared a gigantic brownie sundae. He let me beat him at bowling. In the car he confided in me that he sometimes raps in the shower freestyle. So naturally I asked him to bust a rhyme and he did. It was about me :) and it was the cutest rap I've ever heard. I told him about my kissing fish, Jaws, dying when I was 18 after living 15 long years. A week later he surprised me with two pink kissers (although Jaws was a gray kisser, but it was the sentiment that slayed me).
Then there was Eric. He didn't have a shy bone in his perfectly chiseled, younger-than-me body. Oy vey :) We sat in my car outside of my cousins apartment talking and he kept having to go inside and upstairs to use the bathroom. So finally I suggested that he just go in the bushes. Joking, of course. He accused me of wanting to see "it". We both laughed and then, serious, he asked me if I did. (insert PG-13 warning here) He said he had no problem at all showing me if I wanted to see it. So he did :) He unbuttoned and then unzipped his jeans, reached way down inside his crotch, and I swear to you, he carefully unfolded his manhood (shoutout to Harlequin) and laid it on his leg. Awe struck and, I won't lie, completely intrigued I did nothing with it. I've never truly been bout it, bout it, unfortunately. Anyway, we had lots of moments like that - totally turned on, awe-inpsiring PG-13 and 17 moments, but nothing ever came of them (I'm sure he hates me for that). I've never felt more beautiful in my life than I did with him. I remember standing in his kitchen in some shorts and wedge heeled sandals looking at a bunch of pictures strewn across the dining table, while he was getting us something to drink from the fridge, and he turned around with a glass of water and said, matter of factly, "damn, you got some pretty ass legs." Dios mio, I had FUN with him.
There's no way I'll ever forget "R". He still cuts my grass, lol. When we first met, I was thrown by the fact that he looked 12 and 22 at the same time. When I was sick, he bought me a pink Care Bears gown that said "Somebody Loves Me" on it, and he MADE me a card using his moms rubber stamp collection and embossing heat gun. Our first date was to see The Bodyguard with Whitney Houston. During our walk home that night he asked me a bunch of questions and I just remember going off on one of those teenaged romantical tangents and saying that I wanted romance, to find my knight on a white horse (please try not to vomit). Later on, as our relationship progressed and he was getting frustrated with me and my fickleness, he reminded me of what I'd said that night and he told me "EYE'm HIM! I'm the guy on the horse!" lol. The next thing you know we're in love and having a baby. The rest is wild history.

When I was three years old my father kidnapped me

He told my mom he was taking me to the circus and had my uncle, my mom's brother and his best friend, vouch for him. But we went straight to the airport and hopped on a plane to St. Louis, instead. It's debateable why he took me. It could've been spite because my mother had asked for a divorce when she found out he was cheating. It could've been fear of losing me to "Charlie Brown," the man my mom was dating back then (Charles) that I affectionately gave that nickname to. It could've been because he loved me. Maybe it was all of that, or none of that. I'll never know for sure.
My mother was hysterical, of course. She went to the police and they told her that all she could do was kidnap me back. That he, as my father, had just as much a right to take me as she did as my mother. The laws in the 70s regarding these matters were vigilante. So she flew back and forth to St. Louis repeatedly, trying to find me and steal me back from him. I remember changing preschools often because she'd come looking for me at one of them and the administration would tell him the following day that they didn't want to be involved and felt it would be better if I left. She was always a day or a few hours too late.

My theory is that he eventually got tired of running and realized she'd never stop trying to find me. Plus, I was a very precocious three year old, very inquisitive. He told me that much later on. Made me think I might've been a handful, lol. Then I got sick and he didn't know what to do. So he took me to my grandmothers house nearby. She said it was pouring rain and I was lying motionless on the backseat of his car in a t-shirt and panties with a fever. She took me inside, thanked him for bringing me, and soon after we were on a plane back to L.A.
My mother was so happy to see me. As soon as we were reunited, before the hugging and the kissing, just like a good girl I told Charlie Brown what my dad had instructed me to tell him. I said "Charlie Brown, my daddy said he has a gun and he's going to shoot you," thinking nothing of my statement at all. My mother said they both just looked at one another and said "Okay baby. We're going home now."

This picture was taken while we were on the lam.
He tried to comb my hair but clearly he failed :).

It took me well into adulthood before I finally understood him and realized that he really did love me. He was never very good at showing it. Of course, by then, he was gone and I partly blamed myself, but that's another chapter. My dad passed away in July of 2003.

What kind of person doesn’t want to be loved?

All my life I had a constant burning. A strong, deep, desire, an aching ambiguous yearning, yearning for something better
For something bigger
For something wider
For something higher. And lots of regrets cause I ain't seem to found it yet.
I've been searching around the world never knowing what to expect. I get sad sometimes, yes I be mad sometimes. Cause I'm out here on the grind making mine and I still can't seem to find what I've been looking for. Opened so many doors. For real,yo...
I just wanna be loved...like everybody else does. I just wanna be loved
I just wanna be loved [Repeat x4]
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-z9tuvNUMLk

I guess the good news is, I'm not broken. :)
le sigh.

Monday, and another week begins...

The pics and video from the concert have been uploaded. I apologize for the shaky video; people kept standing up and needing to get past me right when I started taping. So if you watch, please pardon my all-over-the-place-ness. It was not my intent.
I've been listening to Esperanza since Sunday and her cd has put me in a fabulous mood. My two standout favorites are "Precious" and "Fall in", two incredibly beautiful songs. The entire cd is that way, though - uncut bliss, heaven to your ear drums. Listening to her voice, my mind is clear and open, I feel light as air. Like I know the grand scheme of things, lol...and it makes me no nevermind. *smiles
"Adore You" is playing now, and even without real words, it is spectacular. I implore you to buy her cd if you haven't already and you kind of dig jazz even a little bit. There's something on it for everyone.

An early summer nights dream

I sound raspy as shit. That's because I was screaming my head off last night at Ms. Sheila E. (Escovedo) and her daddy, Pete Escovedo at the Playboy Jazz Festival. I had a great time. Esperanza Spalding certainly didn't disappoint, and neither did Eric Darius. Although my crush on him has waned a tad because he came off corny and was wearing bullet hole jeans :/
How Elaine Bettis of me, right? It sucked that they had him on last because he seemed rushed with only 30 minutes to play, yet he still killed it. Dude was running all over the stage and STILL blowing powerfully into that saxophone, WHILE slapping high fives (one-handed playing) w/ the rich folks who got to sit close to the stage near Hugh Hefner and Jamie Foxx, who strolled in with about 15 blondes. Hugh is a pitiful looking old man. I was looking for his wheelchair. He sat slumped down in his seat wearing a captains sailor suit and white cap. It looked way past his bedtime at 8 o'clock, poor thing. All the older men seated around us were clearly geeked about his arrival and the fact that he had so many blondes in tow. As if he were some kind of idol. Yet EYE know good and damn well, at his age, Viagra is likely to kill him, so I highly doubt he's living la vida loca like they think. He's just a glorified sugar daddy. His weenis is long out of commission, I am certain.
Anyway, Sheila E brought me clear out of my seat when she MURDERED those drums they placed before her. Quest Love, eat your heart out, son, because Sheila is a monster on the drums. MONSTER. I have audio of a portion of The Death of the Drums but it was too dark for my poor camera to pick up much picture. I'll post it un momento. Then she slowed it down a bit and said into the microphone: She wears a long fur coat of mink
Even in the summer time
Everybody knows from the coy little wink
The girls got a lot on her mind

The crowd went bananas! And I damn near leapt on the head of the woman in front of me. Everybody joined in and the chorus went:

She's got, big thoughts, big dreams
and a big brown Mercedes sedan
What I think this girl, she really wants
to be in love with a man
She WANTS TO LEAD
THE GLAMOROUS LIFE
SHE DON'T NEED
A MANS TOUCH (this is where we're all screaming, lol)
She wants to lead the glamorous life
without love, it aint much

Raucous applause, whistles, hoots and hollering abounded. I was so SOLD. There was a sea of light toys blinking and flicking, jello shots were still soaring through the air, and the beach balls were still being tossed from section to section. It was like one big party. Pictures and audio soon come. I have to load them from my camera so expect them, oh, by this afternoon PST.
The tribute to Wayman Tisdale left much to be desired. Hugh Hefner really doesn't know jazz. He had two groups up there that I'd never heard of, putting everyone to sleep and they played for over an hour and some change. Which is why poor Eric Darius only had about a half hour to get it in with us. He was last to perform. Esperanza made me so proud to "know" her, lol. It was clear that, despite her many in-stores here in LA at Amoeba Records and the like, not many people knew who she was because they had the gall to be TALKING during some of her performance. Then, somehow, she got everyones attention and I saw people scrambling for their programs to see just who this skinny girl with poofy hair was. Like a proud parent, lol, I was all "THAT'S ESPERANZA SPALDING! YEAH, SHE'S THE BOMB!" Grinning and smug. Anyway, the show lasted from 2:3opm until 10:30pm. I was so beat when I got home. Now it's time for strawberry and whipped cream smothered waffles. G'morning :)
Esperanza ;) watch and enjoy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lNE7jWA5AE

Woo-sah

I'm annoyed as fuck right now. It could just be my hormones but I can't be certain. A childhood friend of mines is in jail. Apparently, he's been there for several years but we (me and my fam) just found out about a year ago. Long story short, Terrence used to live across the street from me and we met when I was 16. We were boyfriend and girlfriend for about a month before he realized that I was nowhere near ready for sex so he dumped me. Gave me the "it's not you, it's me" speech and said he'd like it if we remained friends. I was crushed but moved on somehow and got another boyfriend who I subsequently lost my virginity to (and who also was 24 years old but lied about his age. I didn't find out until after the deed was done. But that's another story).
Anyway, so Terrence and I were friends and I'd quickly gotten over him. We went to the same high school and everyone there thought we were brother and sister. I'll never forget how he grabbed this one guy by the collar and dragged him all around the school looking for me just so he could apologize for calling me a bitch at PE. It was fantastic :) Then a few months later, Terrence's mom put him out and my mom told him that he could come and live with us. He really felt like a brother then and boy did he get on my NERVES. I'd put a soda or a slice of cheesecake in the fridge and he'd drink/eat it right from under me and then play dumb. He constantly flooded the bathroom and he broke my stereo. Suffice it to say, I have no romantic feelings for dude whatsoever. We grew up, met other folks, moved on, and then he suddenly disappeared. That is, until my idiotic, always-in-trouble cousin passed by him in jail while lining up for something or other that they make jailbirds line up for. He said they were so excited to see each other that they began jumping up and down and screaming in line like two gay lovers, lol. Fast forward about a year and there he remains.
About 8 months ago, this big old clunky heart of mines decided to write him a letter and that's what I've been doing ever since. Then I got the bright idea to offer him money. Fine, no biggie for me because I'm pretty generous. I wasn't planning to give him all that much anyway. But the caveat is that I can't just write a check and mail it off. No, according to jail house rules, I'd have to drive in traffic to the post office, which is super stressful, and wait in line to get a postal money order. Ugh. Lord knows I loathe traffic and large groups of people and the post office. So months have gone by and I keep either forgetting to pick it up, being too busy/lazy, or the stars just won't align for me so he's yet to see this money order. Now, rather than just writing me as usual and acting as though it's not a big deal (I mean, a motherfucker in jail should be happy with just receiving outside correspondence at all and not picky about what type of correspondence it is, nahmean?) because shit happens and he has no idea what's going on with me, whether I'm dead, ill, or alive...this asshole decides to write me a two paragraph letter, as opposed to his usual 2 PAGE letters, and makes snide remarks about me promising him money, of which I did no such thing. I don't promise anything I can't guarantee, lol. And I damn sure don't promise anybody money that I don't already owe them. It was more like "if I get some extra clams I'll send them your way." So now I'm annoyed like, get a load of this motherfucker? The nerve of him.
I went after work today and, just as expected, I ran into the worst traffic, the worst drivers, and a long line at the god awful post office where some old lady named Viola, wearing a page boy wig, gave me attitude. Tomorrow I will mail him this funky money order and then he won't be hearing from me for a good while. Or at least until this pms subsides.

Crawling towards Friday

Work was insane this week. I'm beat and ready for my weekend to begin. We have tickets to the Playboy Jazz festival and I'm really looking forward to going. Esperanza Spaulding, Eric Darius, etc. etc. etc. The Hollywood Bowl is a fantastic venue to see a concert in. They let you bring just about whatever you want so we're packing a picnic (I'm picking up sushi beforehand) with booze and bringing blankets and pillows to get comfy on those old benches under the stars. The last time I was there I saw Etta James perform and boy is she a vulgar old woman, lol. At one point I thought she was really going to try to strip with her old ass, in response to them chanting "take it off!" I think she might've if she'd had the strength but she looked like an antique up there - one false move and it would be her last curtain call. Anyway, the late Wayman Tisdale was billed to perform so now instead a group of the artists are planning to do a tribute to him. I hope I don't cry. Somehow, I'm sure I will though.

It's Tuesday already?

I ran amok on Monday but I got a lot accomplished. Friday I went out with two super cool girls in hijabs and learned a few things - 1) folks tend to think that wearing a hijab is akin to wearing a nuns habit (it's not). Therefore, they bestow much more respect upon them than they do to women who don't wear hijabs or habits (which aren't similar at all). 2) Wearing a hijab is the equivalent of a Christian wearing a cross around her neck. Sure, they wear them in public and, especially around men, but that doesn't mean they won't take 'em off ;) 3) Muslim women are just like the rest of us women. They swear in public. They hollahollaholla (Suzan), too, and are open to being hollered at by regular, non-Muslim men 4) There is a plethora of fine Samoan men in the Long Beach/South Bay area. I went to school down there. How on EARTH could I forget?? So after all this laughing and learning, I began my trek home at 2:45am only to find that the freeway I needed to get home, was CLOSED OFF (!@#$%$&!!!). I ended up having to drive ALL the way around this humongous city of mines, in a big ass circle, sleepy as HELL, trying to get home as fast as possible before I fell asleep behind the wheel. Only to find that the freeway that would get me to final destination WAS CLOSED DOWN TOO! I had to get off AGAIN and take the streets downtown in order to get back on that same freeway at another point, and continue the rest of my trek with 30 minutes to go until I was reunited with my beloved pillow. I made it to my bed at 3:45am and was a zombie all Saturday. Can you imagine if I drank?? Yeah, it's a good thing I don't.

Where should I go?

I've been trying to plan my vacation for over a week now and I still can't figure out where to go...or even if I should go. I missed a fabulous deal to fly to Kona for $370 roundtrip and now I'm kicking myself because, of course, I won't find another deal as sweet. More than likely, I will be traveling alone because all of my friends and family are poot butts who don't share my wanderlust. My friend Mai wants me to wait until August to go to San Francisco with her and her son but I need my vacation sooner than that. Argh. Where should I go!? Or do I stay home and explore my own city, minus the hotel bill and flight? I'm so torn.

Lifes a beach...and then a coconut?

• One in 10 people in the world live on an island


• Falling coconuts reach speeds of up to 50 miles per hour



• Each year, 150 people are struck and killed by a falling coconut. That's 10 times the number of people killed by shark attacks.



• Your odds of becoming a victim of one of these fruit is 1/250,000,000

Death by coconut. This probably isn't bizarre in say, Tonga. What a way to go out.

Tackle MY globes, Mr. Jones!

Last night I downloaded the Australia episode of "Dhani Tackles the Globe" and wowie wowie wowie! Oh boy :). I must've paused that video a dozen times, lusting and uttering dirty phrases at my computer. Two words: budgie. smugglers *bites fist. And he rocked at least 3 different pair! I think he was 90% naked for 80% of the show. And in many compromising positions :) humina, humina, humina! It was like soft porn, lol. Whoever's behind that show knows precisely what they are doing (the camera man is a pro at capturing the best ass shots and Dhani's ass is second to none). Sex sells and they have definitely tapped into an untouched market. I can't think of any other show on regular TV or cable right now that even comes close to it. So entertaining. You have a studdly, funny, handsome, open-minded host and he's living la vida loca, doing stuff we'd all love to try at least once, traveling to a heap of interesting places on somebody else's dime, and getting paid to do it all. It's a dream. HE'S a dream. And I'm getting cable just so I can watch the next season (as well as The Closer and Bravo, but primarily for Dhani). Dhani is the man that lots of men want to be, and lots of women want to do. Including this woman :D

I'm sold!