A different animal

I always say that I don’t get out enough and it’s true. Last night proved it to me. I’ve never been anywhere where my race didn’t matter. Well, among those of my own race, it’s not a major issue. I feel as though I’m part of the group. But everywhere else I’ve been where the majority of people are of another race, I’ve stood out and felt the divide, regardless of any politically correct intentions. Monrovia is a different town. If you blink while driving down the 210 freeway you will literally miss it, but its there, a little strip of a city spanning up a portion of the San Gabriel Mountain’s in one direction, and well before you reach the 10 freeway in the other. It’s nestled tightly in between Pasadena and Duarte, and the culture there is like no place I’ve ever been.

A friend of mines is from Monrovia, and last night after dinner she took me to a bar she used to frequent as a teenager. Although a bit on the shabby side (think Santa Fe deco with armadillos), it wasn’t any sort of hole in the wall due to its sheer size. From the outside it simply looked like a four square building. But I guess the trees kept it secret. Once we were inside, there was not only a large bar like the one on the show Cheers, there was an amply sized dance floor on the left where an incredibly short Asian man was disco dancing his ass off, and another room on the right that took us to a hallway where we climbed a small staircase that led us to the hotel portion of this “bar” that clearly had a large upstairs will rooms for rent. Adjacent to the hotel portion was another room with an entirely separate bar and a karaoke crowd singing badly off-key. It truly was painful to listen to so we went outside to the smoking patio that had a few concrete picnic tables, two gazebos in each corner, and about 5 really old, really big avocado trees. Yes, the place was humongous. My friend told me that back in the day it was the hangout for a mostly black crowd, but after a few too many fights it ceased being the black hangout and became the mostly white hangout. As soon as we walked in she saw a girl she knew; a homely black girl singing karaoke while her white husband cheered obnoxiously from a table situated directly in front of the stage. Only, wait, on second glance my friend realized that the man cheering wasn’t “Alicia’s” older white husband, at all. He was her older white boyfriend. Her husband must be at home. After her song she stepped off the wooden stage and planted her butt right in her older white boyfriends’ lap and took a swig of his beer. Then a 20 something white girl with glasses and a husky voice stepped on stage to sing a Maroon 5 number. That’s when we headed outside to the smoking patio to escape the pain and ran into a few of her high school classmates, all guys, all but one of them was white. The one that wasn’t white, Jessie, I guessed was El Salvadorian based on his phenotypic features (hair, mouth, skin tone), he looked just like the five unrelated El Salvadorian’s that I know personally J and at the end of the night I got confirmation that my assessment was right. Every single one of them hugged us tightly and looked at me like I was potential prey, like they were all wondering “who’s the new piece of meat?!” It’s the look I get when I’m around men of my own race who find me attractive. I have never seen that look in the eyes of men of another race en mass and directed at me like I did last night, and it was quite unfamiliar. Then, to add to this new and unusual experience, none of them behaved or sounded like any white or Latin I’d ever encountered in real life or on T.V., lol. Listening to Jessie speak, I was absolutely mesmerized and I think it made me look very much like a weirdo. Hahaha. He reminded me so much of two black guys that I know. Even down to his mannerisms. Everything about him was interesting. My friend told me that he used to be the finest guy in town and every girl wanted to either friend him or bed him. And he’d bedded plenty without discrimination. He said he was passing out dick like candy, and waved his groin from side to side to illustrate it for us. All three of us laughed. But those days of being the most popular guy in town were far behind him. These days he sits on his grandmothers’ porch with his son and makes note of all the faces passing by that he doesn’t know. He’d just returned to Monrovia recently from a world wind tour of the “Big Pond”, selling drugs, being drunk by 10am, marrying a model, and ultimately realizing that he didn’t fit in, that he felt more comfortable in the tight-knit community where he grew up as a big fish. He’s changed his lifestyle and is happy to be home now, a better and more ambitious father to his 12 year old son. I can see traces of his former attractiveness, what’s left that the alcohol didn’t erase, so these stories are believable.

Throughout the evening, a white guy named Billy kept stopping by us. He was making his rounds as if he was the host of the bar and wanted to make sure everyone was having a good time. He bought us drinks and cracked jokes; he’s a very warm spirited person and he holds his beer with his amputated arm. It’s amazing the dexterity he has with it. 25% of a full arm and he’s waving it around with confidence, using what looks like two fingers on the end of it to grip his beer to his chest, and speaking with it. You know how some people speak with their hands and make grand gestures with their arms? That’s Billy. He sounds like Ty Pennington, the host of the show Extreme Home Makeover, but stands roughly 5 feet 8 inches high and has a beer gut that makes him look 3 months pregnant. His story is that he got his heart broken by his longtime sweetheart, ShaKeisha, moved to Havasu and developed an ugly drug habit. Then one day he kicked the habit, came home to Monrovia, got his HVAC license, bought a house and started a heating and air conditioning business. Every guy in there last night, ranging in age from roughly 22 to 38, either owned a home, a business, or both. But just by looking at them, you could never tell. All night, people were coming up to us and hugging us both, briefly catching up with my girlfriend, sharing pictures of kids on their cellphones.

Then there was the very attractive Latino bartender who is legendarily (is that a word?) faithful to his girlfriend. At first he seems a bit shy, only briefly making eye contact and moving very fast to mix drinks and serve them up. My friend says that she used to think he was gay because no matter how pretty the girl's were that hit on him, he ignored them all and always went on about his business of bar tending. Then Billy told us how his rumored aloofness had attracted some very attractive ladies to the bar one night, who's intent was strictly to bed him and nothing else. They propositioned him with this request, assuring him that no strings need be attached, and he very famously smiled and turned them down. No numbers were exchanged in secret, nothing, which made him even more attractive and a challenge to others. What also intrigued me about him was that he could hear everything! No matter that the karaoke singers were screaming into the mic, the music itself was loud, and the patrons standing around the bar were all yelling at one another, he still heard me mention to my friend that I wanted a cherry in my drink. He wasn't even near me or looking at me when I said it to her. And it's not typical to put a cherry in a cup of water.

Back outside on the patio, I was fishing around in my drink for the Maraschino cherry that had sunk to the bottom of the cup, because I wanted to eat it and toss the drink. When asked what I was doing I said “I’m trying to get my cherry out,” and immediately knew how that sounded. Immediately, a big burly, 6 foot-forever white guy with a full, dark beard chimed in “Oh, I can get that cherry out for you, baby…easily.” I “haha’d” nervously and turned my attention back to my friend and Jessie and Billy. Just 20 minutes later he came back to our circle to hit on my friend, saying he’d heard she was a church girl. “I’m a church boy!” he told her, proving that they had something in common. But once she started questioning him on hymn's and such, he began to ease away, plan foiled, mission abort. It was really a sight to see.

Monrovia is a town where race doesn’t particularly matter. Well I’m sure it matters to some extent, as it does just about everywhere else in the world, but it’s seemingly not as important an issue there. Regular, everyday blacks date, marry, and have affairs with regular everyday whites, and it’s the norm. And it happens a LOT. The community is completely meshed. There is no obvious separation as there is just a half hour drive away to Hollywood, where living is the polar opposite, old traditions are slow to die, and communities are clearly separate. And it’s not even a 10 minute drive away from where I live in Pasadena and have never experienced or witnessed anything remotely close to this racial harmony, further illustrating my point that I need to get out more. I just have to get better at observing people without looking like a weird deer caught in headlights, lol. But don't get me wrong, I've seen interracial couples but they usually fit a stereotype, are few and far between, and the surrounding community doesn't fully embrace them. In Monrovia, nobody stares at mixed couples if they notice them at all, and dark skin is universally attractive. I felt like an Anthropologist last night and I liked it.

This is not a new years resolution

Okay, okay, this year I'm getting serious, Jack. No more excuses, I'm making my health a priority beginning tomorrow. I will find the time to run, walk, jog, aerobicize, weight lift, and get physically fit. I've got the Eye of the Tiger - GRRrrrowr! And this is not a new year's resolution, I assure you. It's just a coincidence that I'm deciding to do this so early in the year :). For real! If you've been paying any attention, you'll recall that I've been worried about my heart health for well over a year now. I tried being vegan, I tried the gym, I tried cutting back on trans fats in order to lower my cholesterol and I tried discussing my cholesterol-lowering alternatives with a short little quack pot of an Asian man who calls himself a doctor. Four flaming failures were the results. This time, I'm moving my health from the back burner to the forefront and giving it adequate attention.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can RUN and transform my body into a well-oiled, healthy, highly functioning machine. At least I'm amped right now to do so. Let's hope I can keep up the momentum. Black Girls Run will help motivate me (see blog roll on the right).

Last week, a friend and I went for a brisk walk around the Rosebowl and when we were almost finished, I glanced to my left (the golf course was on my immediate right, the street was on my left and above that was a dirt hill with vegetation) I saw a coyote! Yes, not a dog, a coyote. I knew precisely what he was because my son used to be a huge fan of coyotes and I'd seen them hanging around Griffith Park in the early morning. Clearly, this wild dog was searching for food. He'd come all the way down the San Gabriel mountains, past more than a dozen neighborhood's, around Brookside Golf Course, and finally to that little hill across the street from where we were walking. I was only a little bit unnerved. The plan was to divert attention away from me and onto the folks ahead of us, if necessary. Next time I go, I'll be armed with pepper spray and a big stick.

Merry New Year!

I'm so antsy today. Carpe diem, and all that good stuff. My son returned home this morning and I'm toying with the idea of taking us out to eat to commemorate the new year (Jamaican or Japanese? Or home cooked??) . However, I am still broke. It's going to take me a while to get used to not spending. In fact, I didn't leave the house at all yesterday and only went out for a quick spell on Thursday (I had to buy my bottle of New Years cider and run a few errands) just so that I wouldn't be tempted to spend any more money. I found myself in Crate and Barrel about to make an impulse buy, but thankfully, the meter had run out on my parking space and I didn't want to get a parking ticket. So I put my overpriced, unnecessary items back and power walked to my car to go home. Actually, I did leave the house once yesterday - I put on my rain boots and yellow rubber gloves to go do some backyard work. But after about 15 minutes I decided to stop and wait for my son's return, because I was afraid of what animals could be hiding underneath all those leaves. Yes, I am still a pansy. I worked on the front yard a little, instead... in a pair of plaid rubber rainboots, black stretch pants, yellow rubber gloves, and an over-sized black t-shirt :). Yes, a few of the parade attendees walking down my street looked at me like I was crazy, but who are they to judge? They camped out overnight on my street in 30 degree weather waiting for a freaking parade to pass by.

Anyway, the kitchen cabinets are now painted red and they look fantastic. I cleaned my house from top to bottom, shredded a bunch of old papers, watched a couple of movies and a lot of the DIY network, and realized that I didn't feel lonely at all. I was sure that I'd miss my son terribly and be afraid to sleep at night, but I wasn't. I slept like a baby all 4 nights. I brought in the new year to the raucous sounds of campers on my block and the movie "Ramona and Beezus" (I was a fan as a kid so I had to check it out). Then, about 20 minutes into the start of the new year, I went to sleep...feeling safe and sound in my warm, cozy, clean home.

Now I'm antsy and want to seize the day. I might splurge a little on some jerk chicken or some sushi rolls.

Today's ramble

Last week I vowed that I am not going broke, however, today I fear that I already am! Lol :( I got a letter from Uncle Sam yesterday stating that he's coming to collect his First Time Homebuyers' funds from me. That asshole. How is it a "credit" when you want it paid back? I mean, I realized it was a loan when I agreed to accept it two tax seasons ago, but I had no idea I'd have to pay some of it back so soon. And now that I've spent it, and not particularly wisely, and Pres. Obama decided to let the other new home buyer's keep their dough, I'm a wee bit salty about forking over these clams given my circumstances. Last night, I decided to go over my income/output for the year in order to see if I could afford the two trips to NOLA and Costa Rica. That's when it occurred to me that I'm po'. It's not a good feeling, let me tell you. Something will have to give in order for us to make it through this year as comfortably as we did last year and the year before that. We're finally beginning to feel this recession and it's scary. My son is none the wiser, of course, which is the way I want it. As a parent, I don't want him needlessly stressing over how I'm going to do my job of supporting us. I will be sure to return the favor once I'm old and gray and in need of his support, believe me.

So I haven't slept all that great for the past two days and money wasn't even the entire cause of it, but it definitely played a leading role. We'll manage in that regard. Money's co-stars last night were loneliness (my son just left for Victorville for four and a half days, I have no dog and no boo), frustration (I'm not fond of my job at all and I'm antsy about the future), and worry (for some reason, everyone's trying to scare me up over home expenses. I haven't had anything major to worry about to date *knock on wood, thankfully, though). All of this adds up to me staying in on New Years Eve and New Years Day to map out an action plan for the new year. I will do this to the sounds of some jazz greats, old and new-ish, while painting the kitchen and drinking rounds of cider.

Mon petit château

It's cottage revival time. I bought a sign this afternoon for my humble little abode that reads "Mon petit château," which is absolutely perfect since my château is indeed petit. While I was out, I also picked up a can of red paint for my kitchen cabinets. They are currently plain 1920s wood and in desperate need of freshening up. This is how I am planning to ring in the new year - by reviving my cottage home. Things will be moved around, repurposed, reorganized, and refurbished. And once I'm done, I will put on "The Long Kiss Goodnight" with Gena Davis and Samuel L. Jackson, grab a couple of bottles of cider, wrap up in my favorite throw and kick back on the couch until midnight strikes.

Be careful what you wish for

You just might get it :) I wished for travel and I got invited to Costa Rica, Miami, and New Orleans this year. Wow. Of course, I want to go to all 3, plus my birthday trip to San Francisco in January but I've no idea how I'm going to pay for it all. I want to take my son with me to Costa Rica so he can get his first passport stamp at the age of 16. But that'll be double the expenses for me. And with San Fran in January, Miami potentially in March, and N.O. in July... Costa Rica times 2 in August would certainly be pushing it. I have a feeling the Miami trip or the N.O. trip might fall through, though. We'll see. Whatever happens, I'm absolutely delighted that this is my life.

In other good news, I was told that my nephew spent all day Sunday working on his drawing skills for when he receives the tattoo kit that I ordered him. He's even started marketing himself on Facebook. Ha! And his daughter loves the school bus I bought her for Christmas. Her mom says that as soon as she wakes up in the morning it's the first thing she reaches for.

It started off promising...

then my adopted "cousin" called my step father and asked him to come and pick him up so that he could come spend Christmas Eve with us at my house. The evening started with me, my mother, my step father, my nephew and my son. It was Hallmark-ish and I was loving it. Me and my mom worked side-by-side in my kitchen preparing gumbo while Nat King Cole and Donny Hathaway and Otis Redding, played in the living room. Then we got the call. Let me back up a bit:

Years ago, my cousin Nicky made friends with a very dysfunctional woman named Janice. Janice had two kids, a girl and a boy. The boy was always in need of someone, the girl had her god-mother to run to. So the boy spent an enormous amount of time with my family. Even a few Christmases with us because his mother didn't particularly care for him. We bought him his first and only dirt bike that first year and he was thrilled. Well, long story short, somehow we lost touch with the little boy, until one day I ran into him as a teenage man in the mall. Judging from his attire and the guys he was with, he was clearly in a gang - his new family. I hugged him tight and told him that my mother and the rest of the family had been looking for him and that he should come by my mom's house. He did. As time went on, I came to see that he had grown up to be quite bitter and unethical. Stealing came easy. He beat a neighbor kid with a baseball bat to near death with no remorse. My mother still saw potential in him. I was hopeful, yet doubtful. Fast forward and he is now an alcoholic at 27, has a 2 year old son with a girlfriend who is just as full of drama as he is (match made in Hell), and his fingers are still sticky. He came over to my house and told us how he'd lifted over $600 worth of toys from his employer with his managers' help. Great. He went on to say that his girlfriend was angry at him for leaving on Christmas Eve. Naturally. Then he started to talk about the Christmas when he was 12 and my son had gotten more presents than he could open. He always brings this up. He'll never forget it, apparently. Anyway, yes, my son is spoiled and it was not my idea for him to have so many gifts to open that year when he was about 4, I think - it was his daddy's and my mother's. So then he starts to gossip about his girlfriend and how scandalous she is. He runs into the hallway and snatches down two of my photos. I am annoyed but trying not to spaz. The night is long.

I could barely sleep because I was worrying about his sticky fingers. Then, with a little help from my spoiled son, he managed to alienate my nephew who is already feeling unwanted and unloved because his mother is a nutjob :( *le sigh

I love my nephew more than he probably knows and it is truly breaking my heart that he is having a tough time right now. I'd need a separate post to even begin to explain it all but I can see him slipping away slowly. And I really wish he didn't have that other one, the one my mother adopted into the family, influencing him and putting ideas in his head.

So I made it through the night, albeit sleeping on eggshells for fear of something in my home being "lifted." Then on Christmas morning my ex texted to say that his father would be coming to pick us up around 12pm. I wanted to take my nephew with us but my son, who I am still angry with, pitched a fit. He didn't want my nephew mingling with his cousins on his fathers' side for some reason, saying that it would be awkward and weird...all in front of my nephew. I blew a gasket and later on when my nephew was out of sight, I told my son he'd better apologize OR ELSE. His behavior is another post, as well, but suffice it to say that I will get to the bottom of his snobbish behavior. Anyway, I told my ex that I would be driving my car up to Fontana because I wanted to make sure there was room for my nephew. But after my son's hissy fit, and the adopted cousin talking my nephew into not going, we ended up having one-less riding with us. He went to the casino with my mom and stepdad and their adopted son of Lucifer. But since you have to be over 21 years of age to even step foot into San Manuel Indian Bingo and Casino, my nephew spent Christmas sitting in the car for hours, talking to and being influenced by that adopted jack ass. smh.

My spirits already dampened, I show up to my ex's sisters' house and am greeted repeatedly with love and affection throughout the afternoon and evening. Sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, cousins...everyone was perfect. It was enough to make me sad because I knew I no longer belonged and my own family was such a mess. My ex said that everyone has come to expect me to spend Christmas with them and his sisters and father had made mention of me spending Christmas with them, weeks prior. He said that even though he and I are no longer a couple, they still consider me family and I don't require an invitation to attend. But how can I continue to? As much as I wish I could, I know that as long as my ex is the way that he is (and he isn't changing, that's for damn sure), there is no way that I should. I have to let them go, too, and it hurts almost just as much. So, this Christmas was bitter sweet.

His sister just called to tell me that Teena Marie died and to talk about last night. I am such a wuss! I cried :( and I know she knew it wasn't over Teena Marie dying. She probably thinks it's over her brother, but it's really over her and the others. Haha. I stopped crying over him a long time ago.

My ex invited me to his family's holiday gathering

He did it via text message to our son last night. I haven't spoken to him since early November and when I did, it wasn't good. So I can only guess that his family is asking about me and they're the ones who really want to see me on Christmas day. I love his family, dearly. Especially his father, brothers, and his oldest and middle sisters. His nieces and nephews still call me "Aunt Val" and treat me as such. I was around them when they were all little elementary school kids and now they're grown, in college, with families of their own, etc.

Of course, my son wants me to go. After the Christmas Eve sleepover at my house with my family, I had planned to spend Christmas day relaxing alone at home eating gumbo and watching movies, maybe even starting my painting project in the kitchen. My mom invited me to go with her and my step father to the casino but I hardly want to spend Christmas in a casino surrounded by cigarette smoke and gambling. It's funny to me that my mother was raised in such a huge house with a large family (13 biological and 3 adopted kids, grandma and grandpa, and German Shepard named "Bullet") steeped in tradition and Catholic religion, living life straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting...and today she'd prefer to spend her Christmas driving around town playing Santa and ending up in a casino. Meanwhile, I wasn't raised that way at all and I crave it deeply. When I was a kid we kept to tradition, somewhat, but it was just me and my cousin, who my mom raised with me, so there wasn't as much excitement. And we didn't do all of the things that my grandparents did (caroling, cleaning the house from top to bottom making everything smell like cinnamon and vanilla, fixing big feasts for dinner, decorating the biggest tree they could find, etc.) But as I got older, less and less did she try to recreate the holidays of her past. Now she tells me that it's actually Thanksgiving that's designated for family time, not Christmas. Bah-humbug. It took some complaining on my part to get her to agree to meet me half way this year and that's how the Christmas Eve sleepover came about.

Anyway, my ex's family gets together every year at his middle sisters house - all 6 kids, both divorced and remarried parents, all 14 grandkids, and two great grandkids, with in-laws. When we were a couple I wasn't too keen on spending Christmas with them because I hated his sisters house back then (think Amityville except full of rodents :/) and I hated that no one wanted to be the first to go home so they stayed there until after 1 and 2am sometimes. Well, she and her husband have finally left the Amityville horror house and moved into a very nice home out in Fontana that isn't drafty, moldy, junky, or rodent infested. Last year I spent Christmas day with them after my son and I returned from Hawaii and it was surprisingly fantastic. I'd missed them so much and they all welcomed me back in as family, nevertheless. It was as if I'd never left. The food was phenomenal, as usual (omgawd! was it!) and the oldest and middle sisters and I did a whole lot of catching up and "girl talk," which was nice. Oh, and his father is the best :) He is so funny and country and full of enthusiasm. He calls me "Valley" instead of Valerie, lol. He was very happy to see me last year, too.

Anyway, I would love to join them but I'm hesitant to ride up there with my ex. He and I aren't on the best of terms right now so I'm not sure what to do. I know he won't act a fool in front of his family but the ride up and back might be a bit awkward. And LONG. I'm leaning towards going but we'll see how I feel on Christmas morning.

Tuesday's Musings - money, money, money

I’m all about wise money management and trying to learn as much as I can about making my money work for me. When I’m shopping, I calculate how many hours of work I’ll have to put in, in order to buy an item. If you read this blog every blue moon, you might recall the time I posted about my friend buying a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes and how I equated that to roughly the amount someone would spend on rent or a mortgage payment. I do this with many of the things I buy and try to stay within my budget, which is stored to memory and typed out in a simple excel spreadsheet on my computer at home. You don’t have to be a math wiz to be fiscally fit – I damn sure am not. All you need are basic math skills and a decent memory to stay on your game and keep your head above water and your overhead low. Part of my day-to-day budgeting consists of packing a lunch and a few afternoon snacks taken from my own kitchen. I’ve dwindled my debt considerably over the past 5 years (25g’s down to 6 in 5 years, then I fell off the wagon a few times. Otherwise I’d probably be debt free by now).

I’m highly focused on debt reduction because early retirement and working for myself are so very exciting to me. I’ve wanted to work for myself since grade school (as previously blogged). It’s just been a bit of a struggle letting go of my money woes and fears. I find myself worrying so much about potential “rainy days” and being able to make ends meet, that I sometimes can’t focus on developing a business plan. I tell myself that if I had financial security, I could focus on other things. It’s a never ending cycle. But it’s not completely lost on me that I’ll never make money if I’m constantly worried about it. I think I’m a little afraid of being completely responsible for my own well-being. Sounds nuts, I know. And I do recognize that working for someone else is an extremely false sense of security, and that I am more vulnerable as an employee than I would be if I was the boss. However, being a cog in the wheel doesn’t seem to be as much work as being in charge of the whole wheel. Or so I’d like to think since I’m sort of a yellow-belly J. Okay, I’m making excuses, but at least I recognize it! And I’m trying to convince myself to change with this blog entry, lol. Soon, I will be brave enough to face these irrational fears, get off my bum and do something extraordinary, or, at the very least, make myself proud. I’ve begun to draft my business plan. But until I am brave enough to take it from paper to reality, from dream to fruition… I will continue to build a safety net full of money in case I fail. I mean fall J

Being creative and in charge is definitely something that excites me.

It’s quite time for me to move on, though; find another love, find another way to earn a living, address what I believe is my calling, while improving my life and spirit and income. Success is part luck, part hard work. Wish me luck, por favor.

Salvaged Goods and Christmas Eve Sleepover

I found a fantastic little thrift store near my house but its proprietor talks to much (did I post this before? no matter...). It’s a funky little house (not in odor but in style) with “junk”, or as I like to call it “abandoned treasure” in the front yard and neat old and/or unusual stuff in doors. I was so excited when I walked inside, ready to patiently sift through all the goodies, when out walks this pretty, older, Afro-Brazilian lady and her mouth. I don’t know how she thought I was supposed to hold a lengthy conversation with her and shop while not being rude. I wanted to be left alone to peruse and spend my money on something I may later regret and can’t return. But no, she talked to me about every thing under the blazing sun and then some. And then she blatantly talked herself out of a sale when she mentioned how another customer had thought the price she was selling a picnic basket for was way too high. Before hearing that, I was about to buy said picnic basket. After hearing that, I questioned whether or not the price was too high and put the basket back down. Eventually, I got tired of her following me around with her gibberish. I needed to think, weigh the pros and cons before handing over my hard earned cash. Things like “do I need this?” “Do I want this?” “Where will I put this?” “Is this worth the asking price?” “Would someone want this as a gift?” “Can I find this elsewhere?” “Will I regret this purchase in a day or so?” all needed to be thought out and answered in my head. But I was distracted by her jibber-jabber, so I left. I wonder how she ever makes a sale with that mouth of hers. Too bad, she has some great finds in there.

I plan to go thrifting in San Francisco when I get there next month. Haight Street is full of second-hand stores and I wont have nearly enough time to peruse them all but I hope to find some good stuff. My style is a cross between vintage shabby modern chic. I don’t like stuff just because it’s old, like some people. But I will buy new stuff that looks old, lol. For instance, my chandelier that I love so much which cost me 80 some odd bucks but I can’t even hang it in my bedroom like I want to because my house is vintage and the light is on the wall, rather than on the ceiling, is actually new but it was made to look old. It’s sort of a rusted gold color and has plenty of jewels on it (some of which have broken off since it’s been sitting in the box waiting to be hung L ). I think I’m going to go ahead and bite the bullet and have someone come out to reroute my wires so that I can hang that sucker from the ceiling before it gets too broken up and I’m crying over my 80 some odd dollars even more. I have a lot of little unique stuff in my house, and that’s what I prefer – nothing cookie-cutter, nothing “in style”, everything “my style”, old and new but with lots of character.

Christmas Eve Sleepover

So it looks like I will be having a small Christmas gathering at my house on the 24th. Here’s how it came about: My mother has this uncanny ability to stress me the hell out over nonsense and before I realize its nonsense, I’ve done something I regret and my day/night/mood is ruined. Last night she called me in a panic, quivery voice and all, saying that my 18 year old nephew had walked to her house in the pouring rain after his wretched witch of a mother who hates him, walked into his bedroom and socked him as hard as she could in the chest. Mom claims his ribs are broken and he has no way to get to the hospital. Of course, I am flooded with panic. She’s putting all this responsibility on me to help him because she can’t. And I’m thinking, how the hell am I going to make it all the way down to L.A. in this torrential rain with the tires on my car on a Sunday at 8pm?? The stress creeps up on me and before I know it, I’m calling up my nephews’ loony-bin mom, asking her if she’s going to take him to the hospital and she says she has to go to work. Incredulous, I ask her if she’s okay with him dying while she’s at work and has she lost her mind, socking him over a cellphone charger, and she calls me out of my name and hangs up the phone. I call back, livid, and she doesn’t answer so I leave a very nasty message that would make your ears bleed. And that’s when it occurs to me that I may have been duped, yet again, by mother dearest. I call my mom back and that’s when she discloses that he feels fine BUT they were about to hop on the bus and go to the hospital, except my nephew said it wasn’t that big of a deal. I no longer want to talk to my mother but I’m not sure how to explain this given how angry I am at her. Don’t want to say the wrong thing ANYMORE, you know? I just boiled over, instead. So now, in addition to my mom and step father, my nephew is also coming over to my house for a sleep over on Christmas Eve. Should be festive.

This Christmas I am not going broke

That would be incredibly foolish. I am buying a handful of gifts, only for those who I actually see on Christmas day. Christmas isn't about the gifts, anyway. It’s about time spent, love, appreciation, and joy. Not money or material things. It took me all these years to realize thatand it wasn't without some struggle, unfortunately. I used to get so frustrated around this time of year, trying to get folks to act right, trying to please everyone and satisfy their impossible expectations of me. Ugh. I used to half-way joke around, saying “I’m not John D. Rockefeller!” but really I’m not. And I’m certainly showing it this year (as I did last year when I split and went to Hawaii). I’m finally almost out of debt and I didn't come this far just to muck it all up over a bunch of meaningless gifts that won’t be appreciated anyway. I don’t expect to see but two family members aside from my son on Christmas day, anyway, and they’re who I’m buying for. Oh, and the baby, of course, but I’m taking her gift to her. She’s still innocent.

My Christmas will be peaceful. My mom and step dad will come over on Christmas Eve to spend the night. We’ll stay up watching movies with blankets while eating sweets and drinking cocoa. I will cook a big breakfast on Christmas morning, get dressed, open presents, and then relax until my folks leave for the casino (yes, my mother goes gambling every year after she drives around to people’s houses playing Santa Claus). Later that night, I’ll fix dinner and plan/prepare for the New Year while my son is away with his dad. I usually write my ‘Power of Intention’ list around my birthday in January but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to start it a little earlier this year, here’s a loose list of what I’m planning for 2011:

· Travel to San Francisco, Vegas (annual trips), Miami (maybe, for a friends’ birthday), and Costa Rica (for La Romeria – pilgrimage for Mary)

· Get my groove back

· Write a business plan

· Continue my labor of love so that I can finally birth this elephant by 2013 (can’t go into details, don’t want to jinx it)

· Paint my kitchen cabinets and/or remodel it, if I can afford to

· Mark at least 3 items off my bucket list

· Volunteer, donate, recycle, pay it forward

· Shoot for the stars

Paramore

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-J7J_IWUhls

I think I've played this about 10 times today, so far.

I hate bikini underwear.

They are never, ever practical. Every time the phrase “panty line” is uttered, you should already know that the culprit is wearing a pair of bikini undies, or granny panties. No matter what you’re wearing, be it a skirt, dress or pants. But the alternative, decent boy short’s, are a bitch to find. If they’re made out of lycra/spandex, which tends to stay put well and that’s all you really want - coverage, but if they don’t have a cotton crotch, forget it. You’ll hate your gynecologist even more than you already do. You’ll want to press charges and see him/her in jail. It’s not worth the aggravation, trust me. Plus, if you have even the slightest bit of junk in your derriere, bikini’s will creep up into the crack. They don’t stay put like good ole boy shorts do. So you’ll be digging them out throughout your day. And don’t even get me started on thong underwear. Ugh. Suffice it to say, thongs are the devil, Satan himself wedged in betwixt your ass cheeks, wreaking havoc on your vajayjay.

They really ought to quit making thong and bikini undies, in my opinion. But too many women are creatures of habit, even with things (like sanitary napkins and nylon stockings) that don’t work. We just prance around in our high heel shoes enduring the pain and discomfort without demanding change. They burned bras in the 60s for all the wrong reasons, really. We ought to burn bikini drawls and granny panties, this decade. And what kind of drawls do I have on today? Mm hm, that’s what prompted this post. I need to do laundry.

Holy Mother of God

Okay, I know I said that my next trip after San Fran in January would be to Positano but something has come up. My friend has invited me to go with her to Costa Rica this summer as she walks for the Virgin Mary! http://costaricatravelersblog.com/?p=410

Excerpt:

More than 2 million people make the voyage…During August 2nd, the streets and roads of Costa Rica transform into a meandering river of human souls who profess their Catholic faith. The majority of the Costa Rican population participates in this religious tradition. Friends and family walk together in groups with tennis shoes a backpack full of water and snacks.

The idea consists of making a sacrifice (walking the long pilgramige) and making a promise to the Virgen of Los Ángeles.

She has family there and speaks fluent Spanish, so I’m not concerned about my measly two years of high school Spanish making me a potential victim of any sort of crime. AND we’ll have native tour guides to show us around for free. What’s topping that? This also means that I could remove an item from my Bucket List – zip lining through the Costa Rican jungle! And the religious event itself, I imagine, will be magnificent. I plan to participate, if I can, and crawl into the church after the long walk with everyone else. I’m pretty excited about this.

I need romance. I want to feel love and receive affection. Much more than sex, I want the butterflies, the longing, and the special treatment a man gives a woman he likes and is actively pursuing. I miss that terribly. On my way to work this morning I reminisced about the guys I dated who gave me all of that cutesy stuff – the damsel in distress treatment when my bike had a flat (lol), or a tire needed changing (sigh), the kisses in the middle of traffic (he was the best), the poems, the songs/raps to serenade me with, the hand-made, rubber stamped get-well cards, the tulips and roses and kissing fish and joint video game playing, etc. Anyway, it’s been a while since I had butterflies L I think the last time was 3 or 4 years ago. I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever feel them again. Maybe I’m too old for all that chivalry stuff now. I’m hoping it’s just that I don’t get out enough. It’s about to get cold outside (for California) and I’d like to spoon with someone cute under a goose down.

I've procrastinated all week

Actually, make that two weeks. I'm so behind on things that I need to do and normally I'd be highly frustrated about this but for some reason I am not. I sort of still feel like procrastinating a bit, as if I have the time. When really, all I have is two measly days to get an enormous amount of "stuff" done! <---yeah...still not panicked, lol.

At two o'clock I am going to Mimi's Cafe to meet two of my dearest pals for lunch and catching up. We're so busy in our day-to-days, and I haven't been much of a phone person since high school, that we haven't had much time or wherewithal to keep in touch regularly. But we're still each others favorite trio ;) One of us recently moved from San Diego to Lake Balboa, where ever the hell that is, exactly (somewhere near Encino, she says). The other two of us live in Montebello and Pasadena. We're planning to meet up half way, somewhere in the middle.

Anyway, other than that, my mother is hounding me to go to JCPenney today to buy her Christmas gift while it's on sale for 70% off. She wants jewelry and, according to her, "Penney's" is having a phenomenal sale so I need to get while the getting is good. However, I'm feeling lazy and can't shake it off. I'll probably just end up paying full price later on just so I can schlep around a little longer doing nothing much.

I'm in a vintage, thrift-shopping, unique-holiday-ornament-shopping mood, honestly. I think I may poke my head into a couple of thrift stores on my way back from lunch today before I head to the grocery store. Everything else that I have to do will get done at some point between now and midnight tomorrow. I'm sure of it :) Since Monday is my deadline.

Cravings

I have been craving greasy, bad-for-you foods for 3 days straight now. No matter how hard I tried to forget how delicious they are. I woke up this morning wondering what time the pastrami spot by my house opens up. I wanted one before 8am. This is how I know I could never be a vegan. I'd be depressed as hell, lol. So I made a quick run to Chipotle about 10 minutes ago and now there's nothing but crumpled up foil on my desk. I devoured that chicken burrito. The ENTIRE thing. And I never eat a whole Chipotle burrito in one sitting. Now I'm sitting on swole. But I'm so content :)

Marilyn

Have you ever looked at a picture of someone and tried to imagine who they really are? Not who they appear to be or pretend to be but who they are when no one is looking. Look at these two pictures of Marilyn Monroe and how different she appears in each one.

The shot before she entered Hollywood is remarkably different from how she appeared once she became a movie star. She looked so sweet and normal when she was Norma Jean.

The other night I watched the movie “Some Like it Hot” and read a few blurbs online about her, and it seems that she lived a life where she was never “off-stage” once she began making movies. And center stage, at that. I think it shows in every picture she took as "Marilyn." I’m sure this is true for a lot of celebrities today, but I can’t think of anyone who is as famous as she still is today. Her screen persona became who everyone thought she really was so in a sense she was living in a prison. But the blonde hair, the beauty mark, the doe eyes, and breathy voice clearly were for show, all of it fabricated. Some have said that she was extremely vulnerable and troubled underneath all that, stressed over too much movie-making, conflict in her personal life and a miscarriage she’d had. They say she popped pills regularly just to fall asleep and quiet her raving thoughts. Looking at the transformation in these pictures, I am intrigued with knowing what she thought of herself. I think that she was probably high on drugs in many of her most famous photos, hence the droopy, “seductive” eyes. She wasn’t in film or Hollywood for very long, dying of a drug overdose at age 36, but she left a VERY lasting impression. I’ve heard stars like Megan Fox, Lindsay Lohan, Beyonce, Scarlett Johanssen, and others say that she is their idol and you can see just how much she has influenced some of them.

The original blonde bombshell, sex goddess was once a telephone operated with dark brown hair and buttoned up blouses. She became larger than life in such a short period of time and the pressure of it all became her demise before she reached the age of 40. But the publics’ fascination with her may never cease.

The Operation was a failure

A friend and I went out last night. It was just a day or so ago that I was complaining to my mother, saying that I felt like a certain somebody had stolen my youth and caused me to miss out on some good fun having times. Last night I realized that I aint missed shit. So the original plan was attend a celebrity charity function at My Studio in Hollywood. Our "way in" told us to meet him there between 8 and 10. Sounds simple enough. I was ready, the perpetual planner that I am, by 8:30pm. My friend wasn't ready until after 10:30pm. She asks me to drive to her house so we can take her car there. Since I drive a regular old car and she drives a sporty new Mercedes, I figured this would be a good idea. Boy was I wrong. We got to My Studio and, naturally, our "way in" isn't trying to disturb his groove and come outside to get us and my friend does not want to stand in line. So we waited out in the cold for approximately 40 minutes, me in an itsy bitsy sequin mini skirt, tank top and quarter-length sleeve jacket (we saw d-list celeb, Samantha Mumba with a tacky homegirl, too, by the way). He told us, via text message, to let the guys at the door know that we're on his guest list. My friend felt that was beneath us. We ended up next door at Geisha House having a drink and working on Plan B and Plan C.

Plan B was supposed to come and pick us up in a cab. He never showed. Plan C was this super thirsty Persian guy who has allegedly been trying to get naked with my friend for quite some time now. He and a friend of his, also Persian, showed up in a very nice Audi to pick us up. The four of us drove down Hollywood Blvd. to a club called "Playhouse" where they play nothing but techno music. The oontz oontz kind. I don't typically go to places like this but I was optimistic and since everything was free, so far, I was ready to make the most of the night.

Now I was fully aware that the guy who wanted to make sexy time with my friend was hoping that his friend would play wingman and keep me occupied but there really wasn't any sort of love connection popping off whatsoever from the jump. He clearly was expecting someone of latin descent and quite possibly a size 2-6. I'm an 8/10 with meat on my bones. Anyway, we were both good sports though, so we entertained each other a bit, for our friends' sakes. He told me he'd been doing a lot of traveling lately and hadn't had much time for fun. "To where and for what?" I asked, in so many words. And he replied "Southeast Asia, mostly, for business."

He also made mention that the Audi his friend was driving was his. Fast forward and I'm getting my groove on the way I know how and it's apparently attracting attention because Persian guy #2 shimmies on up to me and starts trying to get more familiar. He whispers in my ear that all the women on the dancefloor are watching me. I hadn't noticed. I was in a zone as though I was dancing in my living room, really letting the music feel me up, ya know? So then I opened my eyes and spotted a trio of women dancing next to me, staring, just like he'd said. I was flattered. So the night went on, more oontz oontz oontz and I've practically danced a hole in my soles. I'm ready to go. Look at my watch and it's a quarter to 2am. My friend is drunk off her ass, or at least pretending to be. Persian guy #1 is thrilled and clearly plotting to get her in his bed, stat. Persian guy #2 is slyly copping feels on my sequined booty and repeatedly running his fingers through my hair looking for a weave track, lol. I find this funny so I run my fingers through his hair a few times and this fool loves it. He comes up behind me a few moments later and bites my shoulder! I'm like wtf!@? He's making crude comments asking me how many husbands I've bagged "white, black, persian..." and I say none. He says "so you just fuct the shit out of them and sent them on their way?" I laugh, like "how dare yOU!" and say "not all of them." He asks me if I'm left or right handed. I say I'm ambidextrous, which I'm not. And he says "well, which hand do you prefer to slap with?"

"My right," I say. To which he replies "faces and asses?"

He thinks he's cute. He bends over so I smack his ass. I think he fantasizes about being dominated by a "sista"

So finally, 3 am and I'm beat as a dog. I tell my friend that either I'm going to go to valet and pick up her car and drive myself home without her, or she can come with. It's her choice. She pretends to not comprehend. Next thing I know, we're back in the Persian guys Audi and he's promising us he'll drive us to valet to pick up the car...after we get something to eat. He says we need food in our drunk bellies. I insist that I'm not drunk, despite their best efforts to get me there. He's not listening. He speeds through Hollywood and the next thing I know, we're in FUCKING BEL AIRE! The first thing that hits my head is that movie Taken with Liam Neesom in it. If you haven't seen this fantastic flick, Liam's teenage daughter is taken by some foreign thugs and forced to be a sex slave. It's intense as ache-ee-double hockey sticks. I'm in that backseat plotting my escape, memorizing street names and twists and turns up the hill to this beautiful house that I couldn't give two shits about - I wanted to go home! Persian guy #2 makes a point to mention that it's his house, not his friends. His friend is flossing for my friend. So there we are, the two of us, my friend and I, sitting in this pretty house on a hill behind a remote gate, looking at each other like "what to do now?" I whisper to her that I'm trying to get home, gotta get home. She whispers back to me "Okay. Let me just go in the room with him for 10 minutes of (she makes sexual sounds here) and then he'll drive us back to my car."

They go in that room for 30 minutes without a peep. Persian guy #2 tries to make his move on me :( It's not remotely appealing, and as much as I'd love some sex in my life, I was feeling nothing but mortified and "rhet to go" (c) Wanda.

He rubbed my thigh. He told me that he'd made the guest room up for me. He studk his hand down the back of my skirt to feel the top of my ass crack. I asked him to call me a cab. He realized I was adamant about leaving so he did. When the taxi pulled up, I was out of there so fast he could barely keep up to walk me to the gate. Then, he tried to kiss me but he ended up licking off ALL of my lipgloss instead, lmao! GROSS!!!! I felt infected with germs all the way back to Hollywood, where my plan was to pick up my friends car and split.

But guess what? Valet was closed. It was 4am. The taxi ride was $45 (not of my own money but, still). I asked the cab driver, which was a lady, thank the good Lord, to drive me to my mother's house in L.A., where I spent the night next to her in her bed, comfy and cozy.

The next morning I had my cousin drive me back to Hollywood to meet up with my friend so she and I could pick up her car and go back home. She claims that she fell asleep on Persian guy #1 and he was disappointed that he didn't get to have sex with her.

So now I'm home, still recovering from lack of adequate and consistent sleep, about to take a shower and decide if I have the energy and wherewithall to drive down to Santa Monica for drinks with an out of towner and a few other folks.

My goal was to find a date last night but the date that found me was not what I'd had in mind. And the guys that I fancied were all colorstruck. But what's new?

I think God was trying to tell me something - for one, I didn't miss anything in my twenties, and 2, I really don't need a date as much as I thought I did. Oh, and 3, that you can't plan a fun night, especially in Hollywood. If fun happens, it's by sheer luck.

Giving to the needy

I get to get dolled up tomorrow night and it's not even my company's holiday gala yet. My friend and I are attending a celebrity charity event with the son of a super celebrity. I'm not exactly sure what it's all for but she's geeked and dragging me along with her. And since I haven't been out since the disaster that was my Vegas trip in early November, I'm going. And I'm aiming to look fierce. I just hope my hair cooperates. And I hope there are some good looking, eligible men there who would just love to take a girl like me out on a date. Before my last relationship, I was doing absolutely fine being abstinent. But now? I feel like a crack fiend with morals. Life would be so much easier if I didn't have any :(. But I do, so I'll have to really deck myself out tomorrow night and come with my A game if I hope to someday SOON relieve myself of this love jones.

I'm not sure what I'm going to wear yet but I'm thinking "low cut," "form fitting," and "stacked!" I can't lie, I'm pretty stoked about this shindig, too. Especially about the possibility of getting my own needs met. I'm actually going to pray on it tonight. I'd appreciate it if you did too. Thanks in advance.

It's one of those days...

*sigh

This Sunday's Musings - My Big Break

There was once a time when I wanted to be a contestant on The Wheel of Fortune. This was shortly after I had given birth to my son and began to consume large amounts of television programming as a hobby, since I was pretty much confined to the house with no sitter and nowhere to go. Every day I’d watch Pat and Vanna from my rocking chair and one day I figured I’d had the game down to a science, even how to spin the rigged wheel just right so as not to go bankrupt. I called down to channel 7 and was told that in order to become a contestant I would have to call back early in the morning on the first day of every month until they had enough contestants for the month. For about 4 months I did this, lol, never getting past a busy signal for hours. It’s funny to me now that I actually did this and was so hopeful about it and was trying so hard. I really wanted to be on that show. I thought it would be my big break. At the time, I couldn’t see or conceive of a better way to improve my life. I was trying to ice skate up hill, lol. These days I appreciate what time has given and taught me.

I’ve always had sort of a pioneering spirit. I inherited that from my mother and my grandmothers. I blogged once before about my paternal grandmother literally saving up pennies in order to buy her first home. How’s that for determination!? When I was in elementary school my neighbor and I tried our hand at a lemonade stand, like the white kids did on T.V. Turns out that folks don’t buy much lemonade in the inner city. Then in high school I sold candy bars that I was given as payment for volunteering for an organization. I made enough money to buy myself a couple of Esprit outfits and a book bag from TJ Maxx. Nobody could tell me jack! Haha. In eleventh grade, my English teacher asked me to join a young entrepreneur’s summer program at USC, but that same year I had landed a cool job selling merchandise at Disneyland and had just gotten fitted for my shoes and uniform. Naturally, I was torn. Disney was paying me, the summer program was not. So, it was a tough decision to make but, even though I was really proud of my interview for the Disneyland job, I thought the entrepreneur’s thing would be much more interesting and beneficial in the long-run. So I bid Mickey ado and spent my summer writing a business plan, learning how to invest in and follow stocks, shopping wholesale downtown and bought a bunch of stuff in bulk to sell at the flea market. I opened my first savings account, and pitched my business idea to venture capitalists for a micro loan when the summer ended. But by then I had also met a guy who commanded much of my attention. Fast-forward about two years later and there was my stint with sewing. My boyfriends’ sister taught me how to sew so I made a few smocks for work and got a couple of my coworkers to pay me to make them some, too. I was a new mom and hustling harder than ever. I still have that damn Bedazzler that I just knew was going to make me some money, lmao. So embarrassing. Anyway, for years I’ve dreamt of starting a business and working for myself. I’ve devoured many, many books on the subject and even had a business license and online store once upon a time, but something always got in the way of my plans. That ‘something’ has become a "9-5" habit now, a sort of safety net, but my grandiose childhood dreams still linger. I think if I was ever really going to do it, now is the time. I’m older, wiser, more established…and more frightened than ever! But I’m toying with the idea again, nevertheless. Maybe this time something will stick and end up being my big break :)

Lazy Sunday

The boys birthday was a hit. I cleaned the house up spic and span, ordered a big ass pizza (28 inches), bought a red velvet cake from Auntie Em's bakery (yummm!), let them stay up and act wild until 5am, took 4 of the 6 of them to see the new Harry Potter movie (it was great), and then made a breakfast of french toast, cheese egg-whites, turkey bacon and oj. My boy was happy. And I'm pretty proud of myself :) I am a kick-ass mom.

I want a shower bench. I'm tired of being a shower contortionist, trying not to cut myself while shaving my legs and jumping around on one leg in order to make sure that my feet get super clean. I want to be able to sit down and handle my business with patience and care. So I surfed on over to amazon.com, my go-to for all things unconventional and comparison shopping, and I think the bench that I found may be just what I need. Only caveat is I'm averse to its hundred dollar asking price. So it's sitting in my shopping cart while I ponder the strength of my ducket$ and my true desire to sit while I shower.

I've been wanting to remodel my kitchen since the day I first toured my house. It's been two years now and I've watched enough remodeling shows on the DIY channel to know that I don't and won't have enough money to do what I want for quite some time. I figured I'd need either a hefty raise at work, or a spouse to help me pay the bills. That is, until I started surfing the web for pictures of 1920s and 1940s bungalow kitchen remodels to lust over and found a government site that offers restoration grants for old homes :) There's hope! I'm planning to research the hell out of these programs and hope to God that I can get some free money to build my dream kitchen and mud room/laundry room.

I haven't done a thing today and I'm okay with that. At some point I'll climb out of bed and wash the dishes, wash my hair and body, and run an errand or two...before coming back home to climb right back into bed and continue my lazy Sunday.

Last Years Adventure to Walmart on Black Friday for a Hachi-Tachi-5000

(I wrote this last year and decided not to post it. My mood has changed so here it is)

I hate black Friday. To me, it's one huge rip off and scores of people fall for it each and every year. My mother fell victim this year and she and my step-pops camped out in front of Kmart after Thanksgiving dinner so that they could score a Hachi Tachi 5000, aka BIG ASS TV. She wanted the Sony 1080p Walmart was advertising but when they drove by Walmart after dinner "the line was wrapped around the store and down to King (Blvd)!" she told me.

A scuffle almost broke out in the line at Kmart twice. First, some lady bribed my step father, who was at the front of the line from 11pm until they opened at 6am, to save her a place in line in exchange for free breakfast when the store opened. My mama was mad as hell at him for agreeing to that after they'd slept in shifts and skipped a few nature breaks in order to maintain their position in line. Meanwhile, this woman was at home sleeping comfortably in her own bed with her place secured at the front of the line. 6am rolled around and the lady showed up as promised, all fresh and rested with two McDonald's breakfast platters for my Step-pops and the man behind him. Step-pops got thoroughly cussed out by my mom as a result.

Then, some other woman decides that she's not going to stand in line at all. She goes to the very front of the line and just stands there waiting for the doors to open, proclaiming that she "just wants to get in" and "has stuff to get" No shit, bitch! someone in the back yelled out. "We all 'just want to get in and got stuff to get!" She, too, got cussed out and almost beat up. My mama was riding hard on her, saying stuff like "What, you think we all just stood out here all night for fun?! blahblahbitchblah!" Eventually, the woman couldn't take the heat and went to the back of the line. Thank goodness because from the sounds of it, things might've gotten out of hand and it could have been a repeat of Walmart 2008 ending with somebody seriously wounded at the hands of an angry mob. The lengths Americans will go to for a sale, smh.

So moms and Step-pops were the first ones to make it into the store and only spent 100 dollars more than they'd wanted to spend. But they got their BIG ASS TV, the intended prize in all of this. Black Friday is like a sport, and I think the thrill is more in who can last the longest outside in the muck and end up saving the most. I stayed out of the streets until 6pm that evening, when I was sure most of the die hards were fast asleep at home, and I still won when I walked into Ann Taylor and found the blue dress that I had been drooling over for months on sale for $30, down from $120 :)

(I may do that again this year, actually)

Happy Labor (anniversary) Day to me!

It’s been a whole year already! This coming Friday my offspring, the fruit of my loins, my beautiful progeny will be turning 16 years old. Wow, how time flies! This year we’re having a simple slumber party with Red Velvet cake from Auntie Em’s Bakery and a 28 inch Giant Pizza from Two Guys. The plan is for all six teenaged boys to come over on Friday and spend most of the evening camped out in my living room with their sleeping bags, pillows and blankets while playing video games on the big TV. I’ll bake cookies (I bought a big tub of cookie dough from Costco the other day) and provide goodies and keep them from getting too unruly. We’ll eat the ginormous pizza, sing Happy Birthday, eat cake and stay up late. Then, on Saturday I’ll make a big breakfast before carting them off to the mall for a movie and to hang out. I think I’ll go see “For Colored Girls” while I’m there.

This year, my “big baby Huey” is 6 feet and 1 inch tall, wears a size 12 shoe, has a teensy bit more facial hair than last year, weighs about 180 pounds and is quite fond of his muscles. The other night he said to my mom “The beach is that way, I got the mountains right here,” referring to his arm muscles (I never said he wasn’t corny).

And still, “Owen loves his mama” © Mama, in Throw Mama from the Train.

I can hardly believe that in two more years he’ll be a full grown man…and I will have been a mama for 18 years. Two years from now will also mark the beginning of my worldwide travels! J I will officially have no more major responsibilities keeping me rooted to one place! Yippeeee!

Sunday night musings

- I should be sleeping.

- What causes that flat booty w/ the lump on the top? I saw a lady with this the other day limping across the street. Her ass cliffed and then sloped :( I fear this. What is that?! muscle loss? too much sitting? oh, dios mio, I pray I am never afflicted with it.

- it's kind of refreshing when you realize that someone you used to have a major crush on is now a dork. No, this is not a reflection on me and my choice in love interests because I was fooled into thinking he was the business. But uncovered he is essentially a doofus :) and that empowers me because I used to feel so intimidated. HA! Not anymore jack! Kiss the ring, sucka!

- I have a good kid and I encourage him to speak up and express himself. He's not as vocal as I am, which might be a good thing, lol, but he's not a passive pip squeak either. I bought him a new phone for his birthday and he has programmed it to say "What's gooood, n*gggggaaaaa!?" from the cartoon The Boondocks, every time he gets a text message...which is often. I'm conflicted. I probably wouldn't be if I weren't sick of hearing that sh*t.

- I need a few new friends. I feel myself slipping away from some of my current ones who are either behaving too young or too old. For instance, one does nothing but play games on Facebook all day, needing four more pies or what have you for her virtual bakery, and the other does nothing but behave like a 22 year old. I don't tweet and crocheting puts me to sleep. Then there are the friends who actually are still wading through their twenties so they behave thusly and have no clue about beans. What am I to do? Don't get me wrong, I love them all dearly. I just need some like-minded folks to vibe with every now and then.

- This new chick at my job has stirred up a fashion frenzy within me. She comes to work everyday put together so...cute, that it has inspired me to actually put some effort into my look daily. Whereas before I worked with nothing but slobs who don't know fuchsia from mauve, a blazer from a suit jacket, and never inspired me to be anything but comfortable. I was one step away from petitioning to HR to wear sweats to work. Yes, it was bad. But then along came this racially ambiguous chick with great style and a fantastic manicure and voila! I'm pulling out 5 inch heels that I usually only wear on very special occasions and rocking them all day at work, pinstripes and blazers and cigarette skirts, oh my! She has invited me to go thrifting with her one day and I think I may have accepted a bit too eagerly, lol. I hope I haven't ruined what could prove to be a very beneficial new friendship for me. I've been trying to play it cool ever since, lol.

- Serioulsy? Like... I need a handsome penis with a very nice man attached to it. It'd be nice if he could look like Don Lemon from CNN and be handy in the kitchen like Chef Ramsey. What? A girl can dream.

- Okay, it's 10:43pm...on a Sunday. I really ought to try to be sleeping right now. Good night.

What’s on my Kameela-Ass-list (KAM)?

It’s funny how whenever I’ve come to the end of a relationship with a man I feel an incredible sense of freedom, the sun seems to be shining just a little bit brighter, I have an extra pep to my step, and the road ahead seems endless and ripe with discovery and opportunity. It’s an odd mixture of jubilation and sadness though. It’s always disappointing when something you tried to do doesn’t work out. But for the most part I’ve always welcomed being alone with myself again. With this recent breakup, however, the sun isn’t shining as bright. I enjoyed being a unit even when he got on my nerves. And I honestly tried with him but, at this point in my life, I know exactly when trying is futile. So the other day I sat and thought about what I want in a man. I’m sort of pessimistic and think that finding my “list” is going to take more work that I care to put in. Therefore I’m preparing myself to be alone. Here’s some of what I came up with:

• Must not smoke cigarettes, crack, marijuana, dope of any kind, legal or not. I might be willing to budge a little on the cigs and weed, as long as I can't smell it.
• No alcoholics.
• Must be at least 5’6 inches tall
• Cannot be a control freak. I want a partner, not a boss.
• Cannot be overly traditional. I don’t want to be domestic servant.
• Must have integrity and be faithful
• Has to be family oriented and respectful of mines
• No ex-cons, regardless of the crime
• Must be hardworking and employable
• Must be relatively self-sufficient, considerate, and kind
• Cannot dress ghetto-fab, no socks with sandals, no track suits/linen suits/jumpsuits, no velour or velvet (unless it’s a very fashionable sports coat/blazer), nothing cheaply made, no knock off tennis shoes, no high-water pants, etc.
• No gold teeth or chemicals in the hair
• Cannot be a cheap skate
• Has to be in a position to pay for dinner/movies/most dates
• Has to be intelligent
• Has to be able to make me laugh and have a great sense of humor
• Must be down to earth, have confidence but not be a cocky-asshole
• Must be driven

I think this is a good start. There’s more that I can’t think of right now, but I’ll know it when I see it.

me shooting me

I bought a new Nikon Coolpix camera that I just love. It's compact (my old camera was not), fits snuggly in my clutch, and it has a touch screen that is way cool (c) my teenage niece. Way more bells and whistles than that old clunker I've retired. It's the bee knees, basically.

This is me playing around with it a bit

It wasn't working out

So I've decided to be single again. Conflict of interests. Unresolved bullshit. Finito. Over. Kaput.

This might be premature since I haven't officially told him yet. As I type this we are texting one another back and forth, nearing the end of our communications. However, unless there is a surprise turn of events, I already know the ending to this story and I've accepted it. He will disagree and try to weasel his way out of facing the truth (currently taking place via text). I will shove said truth directly in his face and pin it on his forehead (done). He'll deny, deny, deny, despite the truth staring him right in the face (starting to happen now). I'll remain calm and resolute. He'll eventually relent, realizing there's no way out. Peace will resume and life will go on. I predict this will play out all afternoon. There's no telling when peace will actually show up. It depends on how invested he is in protecting his lies. But as far as I'm concerned, I am single.

About two hours ago, I showered, curled my hair (the entire HEAD! And it was CUTE!), put on some eyeshadow, mascara, bronzer and lip gloss. Then I poured myself into this really cute spandex striped dress that gathers on the sides (ruched?), put on some high heels and strutted out of my hotel room...only to strut right back in an hour later, disgusted. It's midnight and I'm in my pajama's, on the computer. Any other Saturday night this wouldn't be an issue, except this Saturday night I'm in Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps. But guess what I'm about to be doing in, oh, about 20 more minutes? Yes, sleeping.

I'm so disgusted. And I'm never doing this again. We were supposed to go dancing, just like last year, and have a good time. Just like last year! But instead they wanted to go downtown and gamble. I hate downtown Vegas. It stinks, usually. It's depressing and full of bums. And I'm not big on gambling either.

I feel like I've wasted a weekend. Who goes to Vegas and doesn't party? Ugh. Nobody better not ask me to drive home tomorrow, either. I'm putting in my ear buds and listening to my ipod all the way home. The ice grill will be cocked and loaded.

Good night. I hope your Saturday is better than mines.

The trip is BOOKED!

Flights? - Check!

Hotel? - Check!

Central location in San Fran? - Check!

Excited? - CHECK!!! :)

So far, three of my pal's have agreed to join me on this "Girls' Weekend/Birthday Celebration Trip."One is booking her flights tomorrow, same as mines, because she doesn't want to fly alone. I have a fantastic itinerary planned, too. I really did my homework :) Happy Birthday to me! (in January)

Rhyann's 1st Halloween :)