I'm happy for you, because I did, too.
It started off as possibly being not-so-good, though. I was almost late (the outfit I ended up in provided evidentiary support of that claim), the skies were rainy and gray, and the worst: Hairstylist J hurt his hand! He's been out of commission all week with a pinched nerve. Of course I freaked out in the car, not because I need my hair done (well, partially, I admit), but because I love Hairstylist J to death and it would majorly suck if he couldn't do hair anymore, mine included. But I texted him at TV Station and he said he'd be back to work soon. I told him not to rush, though, I can't have his hand falling off in the middle of my press and curl.
At TV Station, I did a phone interview for Website Girl with a local rapper, about his music and his tour and stuff. He was a great interview, and really nice. I know the common standard is that many interview subjects aren't forthcoming with information, and can even be downright curt, but luckily I haven't come across too many folks like that. If anything, I've learned to ask better questions. But Local Rapper was great. I can't wait to write the story. The bad part of it all was when I rewound the tape to transcribe it. Holy shizz, I never knew how nasally nauseating my voice is! At some parts I had to turn the volume down so I wouldn't gag at the sound of my crack-enhanced, Valley-girl tones. I know I'm probably exaggerating, but seriously, I might get one of those automated voice-mails because I am thoroughly disgusted and mildly embarrassed.
But, this evening, I got a pleasant surprise. Turns out, I got a scholarship through this journalism association for $2500. Or, as my mom pointed out, 6 months of rent! That was the one that I was complaining about because of the postage, when I ran into the Runner at the post office. This scholarship was particularly tumultuous because I didn't have a transcript and turned the application in late, if I recall correctly. And lo and behold, I got it! But honestly, I don't really see it as, "ooh, go me, I rock!" as much as "Good, this at least puts a little dent into the cost." I did have fun picking out my headshot, though. And, at the end of August, I might get to go to the association's annual convention in Chicago. Fun!
This deserves a treat, no? I'm thinking Forever 21 undies sale. And please don't give me any grief over my underwear addiction, because I've come to terms with it. I have to ask, though, do people actually buy panties from F21? I mean, they're like 3 for $10, but they're not low-quality, are they? Because, I mean, underwear that's priced so low seems kind of risky.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
I Scarfed it Down, Too
Impossibly tired so will make this short.
Thank God for small victories: when I got home from a long (grueling) day at work this evening, there was a Ram's Horn burger and chocolate shake waiting for me in the fridge.
Score.
Thank God for small victories: when I got home from a long (grueling) day at work this evening, there was a Ram's Horn burger and chocolate shake waiting for me in the fridge.
Score.
Revelations Revealed
I couldn't sleep last night. I tossed and turned and pondered over things so insignificant I can't even remember them. I do remember that I spent hours on the hilarity that is Beyoncitis, (pure comedy). I do also know that there were visions of clothes involved, so that's something. I get materialistic at night.
Today's shift at VS was a roller coaster of Tag-Team Co-Worker (aka TT) and I's shenanigans, pushy customers, and visits from various members of my family. They didn't see my at my best work moments, because I was dealing with said pushy customers at the time. Besides that, today was probably one of the better (funner?) days I've had so far. The downside of hot guys coming into the store is that they're almost always with their girlfriends. Husbands are funny, though, they either get right into the selection process or they wander around uncomfortably and wait until their wife is done giving the credit card a workout. Lots of cute couples came in today; that was actually mildly depressing. But, alas, life goes on.
And now, the coup de gras: today, a real, live tranny** walked through the door and made my life complete. I know. Who else could this have possibly happened to but me? I nearly died with delight right there on the showroom floor and crashed into the clearance 34DDs. Now, as far as drag standards go, s/he was more Madea than RuPaul. (S)He was actually kind of sad looking, when he came in, as (s)he made his/her purchases (oh, yes, our friend didn't leave empty-handed!), and as he-or-she left. Didn't matter, still made my day. What drag-a-licious goodness. If Favorite Co-Worker had been there, we would have had a collective fit of calamity because, as it turns out, we are both fag-hags of the highest order. Which, among many other reasons of course, is why she's my Favorite Co-Worker.
**I just read this article about the word "tranny" being a derogatory term. Say it ain't so! If it turns out that I've been using a term commonly accepted as "dirty" to describe the dear transgendered folk among us, I will absolutely hang my head in shame! I use terms of endearment and words of love, dammit! "Tranny" is no different. But if, after I do some research, "tranny" is the N-word of the intersexual/transsexual community, I will of course attempt to mend my ways. I'm sorry to say, though, that the descriptive phrase "hot tranny mess" can and will be used when necessary.
Today's shift at VS was a roller coaster of Tag-Team Co-Worker (aka TT) and I's shenanigans, pushy customers, and visits from various members of my family. They didn't see my at my best work moments, because I was dealing with said pushy customers at the time. Besides that, today was probably one of the better (funner?) days I've had so far. The downside of hot guys coming into the store is that they're almost always with their girlfriends. Husbands are funny, though, they either get right into the selection process or they wander around uncomfortably and wait until their wife is done giving the credit card a workout. Lots of cute couples came in today; that was actually mildly depressing. But, alas, life goes on.
And now, the coup de gras: today, a real, live tranny** walked through the door and made my life complete. I know. Who else could this have possibly happened to but me? I nearly died with delight right there on the showroom floor and crashed into the clearance 34DDs. Now, as far as drag standards go, s/he was more Madea than RuPaul. (S)He was actually kind of sad looking, when he came in, as (s)he made his/her purchases (oh, yes, our friend didn't leave empty-handed!), and as he-or-she left. Didn't matter, still made my day. What drag-a-licious goodness. If Favorite Co-Worker had been there, we would have had a collective fit of calamity because, as it turns out, we are both fag-hags of the highest order. Which, among many other reasons of course, is why she's my Favorite Co-Worker.
**I just read this article about the word "tranny" being a derogatory term. Say it ain't so! If it turns out that I've been using a term commonly accepted as "dirty" to describe the dear transgendered folk among us, I will absolutely hang my head in shame! I use terms of endearment and words of love, dammit! "Tranny" is no different. But if, after I do some research, "tranny" is the N-word of the intersexual/transsexual community, I will of course attempt to mend my ways. I'm sorry to say, though, that the descriptive phrase "hot tranny mess" can and will be used when necessary.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
If Only...
Can't you see this being me and my man (and my Blackberry C)?
"Wait, babe, do I just scroll back up? I want to get to that first screen again. No, the one with the...oh, okay, I see. Thanks. Stop laughing, I told you I suck at the little rolly-ball thing..."
"Wait, babe, do I just scroll back up? I want to get to that first screen again. No, the one with the...oh, okay, I see. Thanks. Stop laughing, I told you I suck at the little rolly-ball thing..."
That Went Differently in My Head
I need some new underwear to cheer me up, dammit.
I don't ask for advice too much because it's usually counterproductive. Don't get me wrong, I've gotten some gems of wisdom (get 2 envelopes when you go to the ATM, never leave your drink unattended, etc etc), but unless you ask the absolute right person, you could end up worse off than when you started.
Like when Jennifer Hudson wore that horrendous bolero jacket to the Oscars at the advice of the be-turbaned Andre Leon Talley, for example. And, dear God, that dress had pockets.
But say your sister decides to Facebook message Off Limits Boy who we decided we weren't going to talk to. And, in a moment of weakness combined with "well, let's just see what he has to say," you go with the flow and writes what she says, which is, invariably, not what you would have said left to your own devices. At this point, the conversation is horribly stilted because, in any case, if you were to hardcore flirt, you wouldn't do it in front of your younger sister. More's the pity, because if it ain't serious flirting, you just don't know what to do, not to mention it's been awhile since you flirted via Facebook. I can't even tag this post under "fun conversations," that's how un-fun it was.
Needless to say, I'm a little disappointed with the outcome of this little 2am adventure. I should have put my foot down and said "No, I will not be talking to this young man tonight. End of story." But nooo, I had to give in to curiosity and my sister telling me that how I "deal" with guys is all wrong and of course her way is so much better. Not.
Top Chef had to put me right again. "Just try again tomorrow. And dammit, Lucky, this time, you will NOT do the chasing!" Well, that was the gist of his pep talk, from what I surmised. Haven't I garnered a lot from a short little conversation that wasn't? It's just how my mind works. Well I can't leave things like this, now can I? I'll hit him up in a few days and attempt to do this properly. Man, I'm slightly irritated. I broke my no-boy hiatus for this?
I don't ask for advice too much because it's usually counterproductive. Don't get me wrong, I've gotten some gems of wisdom (get 2 envelopes when you go to the ATM, never leave your drink unattended, etc etc), but unless you ask the absolute right person, you could end up worse off than when you started.
Like when Jennifer Hudson wore that horrendous bolero jacket to the Oscars at the advice of the be-turbaned Andre Leon Talley, for example. And, dear God, that dress had pockets.
But say your sister decides to Facebook message Off Limits Boy who we decided we weren't going to talk to. And, in a moment of weakness combined with "well, let's just see what he has to say," you go with the flow and writes what she says, which is, invariably, not what you would have said left to your own devices. At this point, the conversation is horribly stilted because, in any case, if you were to hardcore flirt, you wouldn't do it in front of your younger sister. More's the pity, because if it ain't serious flirting, you just don't know what to do, not to mention it's been awhile since you flirted via Facebook. I can't even tag this post under "fun conversations," that's how un-fun it was.
Needless to say, I'm a little disappointed with the outcome of this little 2am adventure. I should have put my foot down and said "No, I will not be talking to this young man tonight. End of story." But nooo, I had to give in to curiosity and my sister telling me that how I "deal" with guys is all wrong and of course her way is so much better. Not.
Top Chef had to put me right again. "Just try again tomorrow. And dammit, Lucky, this time, you will NOT do the chasing!" Well, that was the gist of his pep talk, from what I surmised. Haven't I garnered a lot from a short little conversation that wasn't? It's just how my mind works. Well I can't leave things like this, now can I? I'll hit him up in a few days and attempt to do this properly. Man, I'm slightly irritated. I broke my no-boy hiatus for this?
Friday, June 27, 2008
Some Things I Have Learned
Work was actually fun. Favorite Co-Worker was there, and she and I gossiped the day away amidst the leopard-print bustiers and whatnot (God our merchandise is so cute). Boy advice and stuff. Apparently she poured out her heart and soul and he still acted an ass. Abort! Abort! But of course I didn't say that because when well-meaning people would tell me to "Just stop talking to him and move on to someone who wants what you want," it made me do the exact opposite. It ain't easy, girls always want to give him another chance or the benefit of the doubt. Maybe one day some advanced civilization of women will be able to be like, "He didn't call? Fine. Eff him, delete that number, and let's move on!" But we are light-years away from that kind of strength.
As it turns out, an Oreo and Wavy Lays potato chip-sandwich is a mighty tasty little treat. Yum. But dammit, I'm still hungry. If anyone has some chicken lo mein with a Snickers Ice Cream Bar and a big, soft pretzel on the side, we could be in business. Throw in a Sprint Blackberry Curve for $250, and I'm yours for life.
I know, I know, what a cheap date I am.
As it turns out, an Oreo and Wavy Lays potato chip-sandwich is a mighty tasty little treat. Yum. But dammit, I'm still hungry. If anyone has some chicken lo mein with a Snickers Ice Cream Bar and a big, soft pretzel on the side, we could be in business. Throw in a Sprint Blackberry Curve for $250, and I'm yours for life.
I know, I know, what a cheap date I am.
To the Front Lines I Go
Turns out I have to work the entire weekend. The one weekend, of course, that Florida Godmother and Atlanta Godfather and his family are coming to town. When I told FG that I had to work even today, she scoffed, "Pssh! Girl, you've got your whole life to work!"
But, as I told her, I need money like, now. And since it will be awhile before my rich husband comes to sweep me off my feet, I need a Plan B in the form of the closing shift at VS. It's not even my real shift; I agreed to fill in for a co-worker who was in a bind. Sigh. I mean, it's Friday and everything, but it's not like I can really see the light at the end of the tunnel because, like I said, I have to work Saturday and Sunday. But I refuse to let The Man bring me down (and for once, The Man is not a nickname for a ne'er do well ex, hah!). As they say, "make that money, don't let it make you!"
Crud. I still have to get dressed and throw some makeup on. Maaaaaan that couch and that DVD player are so calling my name right now. Come on, girl. Get thee to the bathroom, stat. Half-priced lingerie waits for no woman...
I'm rolling my eyes, but when I return I shall be in a better mood for which to entertain y'all, my dears.
But, as I told her, I need money like, now. And since it will be awhile before my rich husband comes to sweep me off my feet, I need a Plan B in the form of the closing shift at VS. It's not even my real shift; I agreed to fill in for a co-worker who was in a bind. Sigh. I mean, it's Friday and everything, but it's not like I can really see the light at the end of the tunnel because, like I said, I have to work Saturday and Sunday. But I refuse to let The Man bring me down (and for once, The Man is not a nickname for a ne'er do well ex, hah!). As they say, "make that money, don't let it make you!"
Crud. I still have to get dressed and throw some makeup on. Maaaaaan that couch and that DVD player are so calling my name right now. Come on, girl. Get thee to the bathroom, stat. Half-priced lingerie waits for no woman...
I'm rolling my eyes, but when I return I shall be in a better mood for which to entertain y'all, my dears.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Decisions, Decisions
I'm watching the NBA Draft. To fill the time before the Pistons choose (#29, #59, late picks are hazards of being an elite team), I've turned the televised selection show into my own personal meat market.
There are some fine young being being ingratiated into the NBA. Watch and learn...he's a cutie...DJ Augustin is his name...yum...they're putting up his stats now...he went to U of Texas...oh, he's from the South. New fucking Orleans, at that.
Um, no. We know my policy. Oh, well. 49 more to go!
Let's see...Brook Lopez was just selected to the New Jersey Nets (hi, Vittoria!)...Ooh, he's tall...kind of cute...he went to Stanford...he's from...they're still talking about his basketball prowess, apparently NJN got a steal with this one...oh, he has a curly-haired twin, cute! This is silly, I'll just Google it, hang on...he's from Fresno, Calif. Eh. Could be better, could be--eww, his voice is unbearably annoying.
Moving on. Trade news, etc. Interesting...
And we have another cutie! Damn, he's fine...Joseph Bayless from U of Arizona...too bad he's going to the Indiana Pacers, of all places (we've never gotten along after that nasty brawl)...ok, he's from Phoenix, not ba--the Runner was from PHX. Hmm. Is Arizona the South, really?
I think this may take awhile. But as a treat, I'll eventually let y'all know who my future NBA husband will be, as not to leave you hanging. Don't thank me. You've done enough.
*PS, do we like the new color? I don't like overly bright hues (when it comes to clothes), but I need a change. When my blog is light, like this, though, I feel strangely...exposed. Like everyone can see all my SECRETS. The perfect layout's out there somewhere, I just know it.
There are some fine young being being ingratiated into the NBA. Watch and learn...he's a cutie...DJ Augustin is his name...yum...they're putting up his stats now...he went to U of Texas...oh, he's from the South. New fucking Orleans, at that.
Um, no. We know my policy. Oh, well. 49 more to go!
Let's see...Brook Lopez was just selected to the New Jersey Nets (hi, Vittoria!)...Ooh, he's tall...kind of cute...he went to Stanford...he's from...they're still talking about his basketball prowess, apparently NJN got a steal with this one...oh, he has a curly-haired twin, cute! This is silly, I'll just Google it, hang on...he's from Fresno, Calif. Eh. Could be better, could be--eww, his voice is unbearably annoying.
Moving on. Trade news, etc. Interesting...
And we have another cutie! Damn, he's fine...Joseph Bayless from U of Arizona...too bad he's going to the Indiana Pacers, of all places (we've never gotten along after that nasty brawl)...ok, he's from Phoenix, not ba--the Runner was from PHX. Hmm. Is Arizona the South, really?
I think this may take awhile. But as a treat, I'll eventually let y'all know who my future NBA husband will be, as not to leave you hanging. Don't thank me. You've done enough.
*PS, do we like the new color? I don't like overly bright hues (when it comes to clothes), but I need a change. When my blog is light, like this, though, I feel strangely...exposed. Like everyone can see all my SECRETS. The perfect layout's out there somewhere, I just know it.
I'm Just Sayin'
I'm watching Madea's Family Reunion right now after work, the scene where Lisa and her abusive fiance, Carlos are at the restaurant on a double-date, and he's all, "I love you...to death," and basically threatening her. Not to trivialize her struggle, but girl, did you forget that you are a grown-ass woman!? You definitely could have been like, "Yeah...I'm not going home with you tonight, buddy, I'm going with our friends. Matter of fact, we're finished and go to hell." Just a suggestion.
Now it's the Frankie and Vanessa "happy in love" montage. Boris Kodjoe is gorgeous even with that ri-damn-diculous Afro wig. Stupid co-workers! Not telling me that he stopped by the studio!
Speaking of work, Website Girl's intern was doing a phone interview next to me, and I wasn't really paying attention until I heard her say, "So, do you ever get to work directly with Kimora?" Kimora?? As in, Lee Simmons?!?!?! Turns out Curly-Haired Intern was interviewing a Baby Phat designer (who only rarely sees KLS, by the way). Still, that was enough for me. WG's interns are their own well-dressed little clique. I could try a little harder to make conversation. Maybe I'm just jealous because they have, I dunno, things to do. Even though I might have an interview with a local rapper soon, thanks to Website Girl. She's actually not bad. Just really busy, I guess.
I really dig that song by Carrie Underwood "Before He Cheats." The worst thing I ever did to an a-hole ex was...I mean, it was more playfully mischievous than bad, I didn't "scratch my key into the side/of a pretty little souped-up/4-wheel drive" like Carrie did, but, well, never mind. Heh.
There were these shirtless guys playing basketball across the street when I came home this afternoon. Okay, okay, I got an eyeful. Oh, whatever. Like you wouldn't have looked.
Now it's the Frankie and Vanessa "happy in love" montage. Boris Kodjoe is gorgeous even with that ri-damn-diculous Afro wig. Stupid co-workers! Not telling me that he stopped by the studio!
Speaking of work, Website Girl's intern was doing a phone interview next to me, and I wasn't really paying attention until I heard her say, "So, do you ever get to work directly with Kimora?" Kimora?? As in, Lee Simmons?!?!?! Turns out Curly-Haired Intern was interviewing a Baby Phat designer (who only rarely sees KLS, by the way). Still, that was enough for me. WG's interns are their own well-dressed little clique. I could try a little harder to make conversation. Maybe I'm just jealous because they have, I dunno, things to do. Even though I might have an interview with a local rapper soon, thanks to Website Girl. She's actually not bad. Just really busy, I guess.
I really dig that song by Carrie Underwood "Before He Cheats." The worst thing I ever did to an a-hole ex was...I mean, it was more playfully mischievous than bad, I didn't "scratch my key into the side/of a pretty little souped-up/4-wheel drive" like Carrie did, but, well, never mind. Heh.
There were these shirtless guys playing basketball across the street when I came home this afternoon. Okay, okay, I got an eyeful. Oh, whatever. Like you wouldn't have looked.
What (More) Can I Say?
When I love something, I really love it. Become infatuated. Stay up late and double-post (If you scroll down, you'll see that I totally already posted for today).
Tonight's obsession takes me back to my roots: music. Before, or should I say, just when things got complicated, music was my one true love. Take a peek at my iTunes and you'll see a hodge-podge of tunes that somehow fit perfectly together. When all else fails, there's a song somewhere that will encapsulate almost exactly what I'm thinking or going through. I'm that girl who has her iPod surgically implanted into her ears. The functioning addict who's listening to a playlist while she's watching a movie, having a conversation, brushing her teeth, whatever. As I tell people, it's my background music. Life is a movie starring me. Can you imagine a movie without a soundtrack? That's how I feel. Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate silence, but I think even the most transient moments of quiet can be enhanced with a well-placed track. Music is a journey. Every day, singers, songwriters, and producers choose to face the daunting task of conveying and capturing...life, and all its gory details. As humans, we're constantly on a quest to understand the illogical, unbelievable, inconceivable gray matter around us, and as we look up to the scientists and philosophers who take on that responsibility, I salute the musicians and lyricists who do the same with words and melodies. I'm not going to get into what makes a "good song" because that means different things to different people (hey, if you like it, at that moment, it's a good song) or anything like that.
In a nutshell, I can't sleep and I've been looking up various artists, and somehow went from Fall Out Boy's cover of Beat It on Youtube to this rambling post you have before you. I appreciate whoever took the time to see just what insomnia and a laptop can do to a person. Let's take a breath.
I like Gym Class Heroes' creativity, especially this video for "Cupid's Chokehold." In particular, Travis' hightop shoes in the beginning (I want them), and um, Travis himself (I want him). Seriously. As each of my phases usually has a crush attached, this time it's GCH lead singer Travis McCoy, who's "6'5", 200 plus, and so sexy" as he puts it. And his fitted hat! That hair! We know I adore curly-haired cuties in baseball caps. Sexy. Waiter? I'll take one to go, thanks.
I love you all who are reading this. Honestly and truly I do. Please excuse my impure thoughts. They might stay awhile.
Tonight's obsession takes me back to my roots: music. Before, or should I say, just when things got complicated, music was my one true love. Take a peek at my iTunes and you'll see a hodge-podge of tunes that somehow fit perfectly together. When all else fails, there's a song somewhere that will encapsulate almost exactly what I'm thinking or going through. I'm that girl who has her iPod surgically implanted into her ears. The functioning addict who's listening to a playlist while she's watching a movie, having a conversation, brushing her teeth, whatever. As I tell people, it's my background music. Life is a movie starring me. Can you imagine a movie without a soundtrack? That's how I feel. Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate silence, but I think even the most transient moments of quiet can be enhanced with a well-placed track. Music is a journey. Every day, singers, songwriters, and producers choose to face the daunting task of conveying and capturing...life, and all its gory details. As humans, we're constantly on a quest to understand the illogical, unbelievable, inconceivable gray matter around us, and as we look up to the scientists and philosophers who take on that responsibility, I salute the musicians and lyricists who do the same with words and melodies. I'm not going to get into what makes a "good song" because that means different things to different people (hey, if you like it, at that moment, it's a good song) or anything like that.
In a nutshell, I can't sleep and I've been looking up various artists, and somehow went from Fall Out Boy's cover of Beat It on Youtube to this rambling post you have before you. I appreciate whoever took the time to see just what insomnia and a laptop can do to a person. Let's take a breath.
I like Gym Class Heroes' creativity, especially this video for "Cupid's Chokehold." In particular, Travis' hightop shoes in the beginning (I want them), and um, Travis himself (I want him). Seriously. As each of my phases usually has a crush attached, this time it's GCH lead singer Travis McCoy, who's "6'5", 200 plus, and so sexy" as he puts it. And his fitted hat! That hair! We know I adore curly-haired cuties in baseball caps. Sexy. Waiter? I'll take one to go, thanks.
I love you all who are reading this. Honestly and truly I do. Please excuse my impure thoughts. They might stay awhile.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Surprise, Surprise
Being in the media does have its perks. A few of the interns may be covering a Cool Music Event in July (of course I don't want to jinx it, as is my way). I'm excited. I spent the entire day researching bands. And by that I mean going on endless Myspace searches and whatnot. A lot of the music sounded the same, but I did find a few lil' gems that made their way onto my iTunes, and consequently, into my heart. I found a cover of RiRi's "Umbrella," a song called "She's a Lady," which I like, and an act named Jeffree Star, who I'm pretty sure is a tranny. And you know me, I love anything drag, so between that and the pink hair, I was hooked.
I want a new book from the library but the last time I went and managed to stall some more, the lady at the desk blacklisted me. Now I can't check out any more items until I pay my outstanding fine. I mean, honestly. The library policy is that you're allowed to check out books with a fine under $15 (without getting harassed for it, either!). They used to not even tell you that you had a fine, thus allowing the amount owed to get bigger and bigger. Which is how I got into this mess in the first place.
When I told my dad that Amy Winehouse is set to perform at Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday, he made me pull her up online, so of course I showed him the Valerie video. He was impressed, but did ask if that was her look or was she "just having a bad hair day?" Oh, Dad.
Oh, it's raining. Cats and doggy-style. Time to go cuddle up. Any takers or will it be me and Harry Potter?
"She's a Lady" by Forever the Sickest Kids
I'm in love with a girl I hate,
She enjoys pointing out
Every bad thing about me
I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic.
A traitor,
I'd trade her in a second
She's a backseat driver,
A drama provider,
An instant update of the world
Shes a first class liar,
A constant forgetter
(She's attractive, but bitter)
Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby,
Don't return to me,
If you think that I'm not worth your time.
She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with.
She's a lady,
And ladies,
Shouldn't be messed with.
Take off your shoes,
Come in the room,
And baby let's try not to argue,
Turn out the lights,
Turn on the radio,
How can we fight when I'm too busy loving you,
I'm too busy loving you
I'm too busy loving you
Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby,
Don't return to me.
If you think that I'm not worth your time.
She's a lady,
And ladies,
Shouldn't be messed with.
She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with.
Here I am,
There you go again,
Again
And we will not ever be eighteen again, again
And I'm worn out of fighting,
And every night you leave crying,
And I could use some time.
And here I am,
There you go again. (again)
So here I am I'm dying,
And I'm waiting for you,
Waiting for you.
Come back, come back to me,
And I'll take you gladly.
And I'll take you where to go.
Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby.
Don't return to me,
If you think that I'm not worth your time.
Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around turn around baby, don't return to me.
If you think that I'm not worth your time.
She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with
Shes a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with
I want a new book from the library but the last time I went and managed to stall some more, the lady at the desk blacklisted me. Now I can't check out any more items until I pay my outstanding fine. I mean, honestly. The library policy is that you're allowed to check out books with a fine under $15 (without getting harassed for it, either!). They used to not even tell you that you had a fine, thus allowing the amount owed to get bigger and bigger. Which is how I got into this mess in the first place.
When I told my dad that Amy Winehouse is set to perform at Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday, he made me pull her up online, so of course I showed him the Valerie video. He was impressed, but did ask if that was her look or was she "just having a bad hair day?" Oh, Dad.
Oh, it's raining. Cats and doggy-style. Time to go cuddle up. Any takers or will it be me and Harry Potter?
"She's a Lady" by Forever the Sickest Kids
I'm in love with a girl I hate,
She enjoys pointing out
Every bad thing about me
I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic.
A traitor,
I'd trade her in a second
She's a backseat driver,
A drama provider,
An instant update of the world
Shes a first class liar,
A constant forgetter
(She's attractive, but bitter)
Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby,
Don't return to me,
If you think that I'm not worth your time.
She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with.
She's a lady,
And ladies,
Shouldn't be messed with.
Take off your shoes,
Come in the room,
And baby let's try not to argue,
Turn out the lights,
Turn on the radio,
How can we fight when I'm too busy loving you,
I'm too busy loving you
I'm too busy loving you
Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby,
Don't return to me.
If you think that I'm not worth your time.
She's a lady,
And ladies,
Shouldn't be messed with.
She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with.
Here I am,
There you go again,
Again
And we will not ever be eighteen again, again
And I'm worn out of fighting,
And every night you leave crying,
And I could use some time.
And here I am,
There you go again. (again)
So here I am I'm dying,
And I'm waiting for you,
Waiting for you.
Come back, come back to me,
And I'll take you gladly.
And I'll take you where to go.
Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby.
Don't return to me,
If you think that I'm not worth your time.
Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around turn around baby, don't return to me.
If you think that I'm not worth your time.
She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with
Shes a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
It's Worth it, I Swear
A few lil' tidbits:
-I am still searching for the Blackberry C. I've been on Craigslist for God knows how long sending out emails. One guy just texted me saying that his had been sold. Yay for the quick response, boo for the bad news. And plus, after he told me, he went all, "So, how's your night?" and tried to, like, have a convo! Sir, sir, sir, no. I don't want to have to throw you in the douchebag file, but please don't force my hand.
-The BET Awards were mildly entertaining, moreso than the foolywangery of years past and of other BET events, like the fuckery that was this year's Spring Bling. Of course Chris and Rihanna were there:
(This is them rehearsing, even though they performed separately. Boy, you so professional! Who am I kidding? I'd still hit.)
When he performed "Take You Down," I literally (and slightly embarrassingly) screamed. And the camera totally panned to Rihanna, who was in the audience and, of course, cheering for her man. When Rihanna performed, Captain Obvious Camera got a shot of Chris singing along while she performed "Take A Bow." I almost passed out from the cuteness of it all. Of course RiRi's outfit was fly as hell, too. Swoon. Al Green's performance of Love and Happiness was possibly the best moment of the show; no one can cue the black backyard barbecue-style dancing in the aisles quite like Reverend Al (FYI: this is an old clip, but you get the idea). I can't wait to see tomorrow's blogosphere's rundown of the event. Unfortunately I will be at TV Station, but I just know the recaps on YBF and Crunk and Disorderly will provide hours of relaxing, entertaining enjoyment when I get home. And I just know the stans are ready to rip Beyonce a new one for not performing like she was rumored to. I'm over her anyway. Girl, bye!
-I need to find something to wear to internship tomorrow. Because the weather around here infamous for changing on a dime, it could either be ridiculously hot or furiously rainy. Le sigh.
-Sidenote: In the very near future I think I might "redecorate" this blog. 'Tis time for a change, no?
-I am still searching for the Blackberry C. I've been on Craigslist for God knows how long sending out emails. One guy just texted me saying that his had been sold. Yay for the quick response, boo for the bad news. And plus, after he told me, he went all, "So, how's your night?" and tried to, like, have a convo! Sir, sir, sir, no. I don't want to have to throw you in the douchebag file, but please don't force my hand.
-The BET Awards were mildly entertaining, moreso than the foolywangery of years past and of other BET events, like the fuckery that was this year's Spring Bling. Of course Chris and Rihanna were there:
(This is them rehearsing, even though they performed separately. Boy, you so professional! Who am I kidding? I'd still hit.)
When he performed "Take You Down," I literally (and slightly embarrassingly) screamed. And the camera totally panned to Rihanna, who was in the audience and, of course, cheering for her man. When Rihanna performed, Captain Obvious Camera got a shot of Chris singing along while she performed "Take A Bow." I almost passed out from the cuteness of it all. Of course RiRi's outfit was fly as hell, too. Swoon. Al Green's performance of Love and Happiness was possibly the best moment of the show; no one can cue the black backyard barbecue-style dancing in the aisles quite like Reverend Al (FYI: this is an old clip, but you get the idea). I can't wait to see tomorrow's blogosphere's rundown of the event. Unfortunately I will be at TV Station, but I just know the recaps on YBF and Crunk and Disorderly will provide hours of relaxing, entertaining enjoyment when I get home. And I just know the stans are ready to rip Beyonce a new one for not performing like she was rumored to. I'm over her anyway. Girl, bye!
-I need to find something to wear to internship tomorrow. Because the weather around here infamous for changing on a dime, it could either be ridiculously hot or furiously rainy. Le sigh.
-Sidenote: In the very near future I think I might "redecorate" this blog. 'Tis time for a change, no?
Another Round?
It's list-making time, folks! Today's theme is: Embarrassing Confessions from Yours Truly:
1. I started re-reading the Harry Potter series. From Book 1. I also kind of want the boxed set. I know, I'm such a nerd.
2. I kind of like that song "4 Minutes" by Madonna and Justin Timberlake. Also, I still have a crush on JT, leftover from 5th grade.
3. There is a really huge mosquito bite on my heiney. I can barely sit down.
4. I desperately want Alex and Izzie to get back together on Grey's Anatomy.
5. The book Love in the Time of Cholera, which I thought would be a great love story, is actually very, very dull so far. So dull, in fact, that if things don't pick up, I may just vaya con Dios and return it back to the library without reaching the page 20 mark. My preferred reading would probably make my English professor cry.
6. Despite my anti-goldigger sentiment, sometimes I just want to marry a rich man and be done with it already.
I have tons and tons more embarrassing trivia to reveal, but I'll spare you the gory details.
1. I started re-reading the Harry Potter series. From Book 1. I also kind of want the boxed set. I know, I'm such a nerd.
2. I kind of like that song "4 Minutes" by Madonna and Justin Timberlake. Also, I still have a crush on JT, leftover from 5th grade.
3. There is a really huge mosquito bite on my heiney. I can barely sit down.
4. I desperately want Alex and Izzie to get back together on Grey's Anatomy.
5. The book Love in the Time of Cholera, which I thought would be a great love story, is actually very, very dull so far. So dull, in fact, that if things don't pick up, I may just vaya con Dios and return it back to the library without reaching the page 20 mark. My preferred reading would probably make my English professor cry.
6. Despite my anti-goldigger sentiment, sometimes I just want to marry a rich man and be done with it already.
I have tons and tons more embarrassing trivia to reveal, but I'll spare you the gory details.
Monday, June 23, 2008
That Was an Overshare...
So, after exactly eight hours of Wikipedia and a ham sandwich after arriving at TV Station, I was about to leave when Miss Manners goes, "Okay, my story is ready for you to edit." On the inside, I rolled my eyes to the heavens. Intern Director #1 wanted the story up tonight, so I had to edit the thing. I like MM, honestly and truly, but her journalism skills leave a little to be desired. Ok, more than that. What's disconcerting is that she's older than me and almost done with her classes at Local University, and I write better than she does (her specialty is photojournalism, so maybe that's it). Still, I could tell she felt a little weird about first Intern Director #2, then me, editing her story so, um, thoroughly. But every editor and writer knows it's nothing personal. I can't help it, when I see some glaring style or grammatical error in a story, I cannot tell a lie!
Besides that, today was more "research." I covered Jimmy Hoffa, the Mafia, and the Romanovs, if you must know. Did you know that "mafia" is sometimes translated as "Morta Alla Francia. Italia Allena" (Death to France. This is Italy's cry, in Italian). How cool is that?
Oh, for fuck's sake. I have a monstrous pimple on my chin and it's been bothering me ALL DAY. I think it's like two zits in one, or something. Honest. I was looking at myself in the mirror, and today was one of those days where I liked my outfit and everything was going smoothly in the appearance department, EXCEPT FOR THE VOLCANO-SIZE ZIT ON MY FACE. Yick.
Gotta go eat. We know I am powerless in the face of pizza. Will be back later, presumably a few (hundred) pounds heavier.
Besides that, today was more "research." I covered Jimmy Hoffa, the Mafia, and the Romanovs, if you must know. Did you know that "mafia" is sometimes translated as "Morta Alla Francia. Italia Allena" (Death to France. This is Italy's cry, in Italian). How cool is that?
Oh, for fuck's sake. I have a monstrous pimple on my chin and it's been bothering me ALL DAY. I think it's like two zits in one, or something. Honest. I was looking at myself in the mirror, and today was one of those days where I liked my outfit and everything was going smoothly in the appearance department, EXCEPT FOR THE VOLCANO-SIZE ZIT ON MY FACE. Yick.
Gotta go eat. We know I am powerless in the face of pizza. Will be back later, presumably a few (hundred) pounds heavier.
Ironing Makes Me Think
It does. Because it's such a mundane task, my mind can't help but wander off. Most of the time I think about the same things. What was my degree of responsibility in this situation? What can I do to make sure this doesn't happen again? Most importantly, how can I resolve this within myself and move on completely? I seem to be stuck. I feel like I have a catalog of experiences under my belt, but I don't know what to take from them so they won't be categorized in my mind as "mistakes" or "embarrassing/awkward situations" but just "things that happened." You know? I'm not sure what lesson I'm supposed to learn or take from each situation. It also feels like I'm making much ado about nothing; I doubt anyone else is reflecting this much on the past year to the extent that I am, where I feel like I have to change myself because too many things went awry.
I know I need to change but where do I begin? Yes, that's it. It's like I have a huge room to clean but have no idea where to start. Maybe I need a book of some sort. We know the whole therapy thing doesn't work for me; it embarrasses me tremendously. Maybe I just need to call Bestest Friend Ever (BFE/BFF). Oh, wait...I just spotted my Bible. Those who know me know that I'm not usually in the business of going to church, but I do have my own strong relationship with Big Guns Upstairs (if you catch my drift), contrary to popular belief. Maybe God is the answer to my prayers. Well, you know what I mean.
Today I went to the grad party of Lil' Gymnast, a girl I used to cheer with in high school. Bless her heart, she's one of those girls who always has a doting boyfriend.** She'd "upgraded" to a new boy from the last time I saw her, and dammit if I wasn't a teensy bit jealous! Of her and her BF, not that she was embarking on college, having no idea what lay (lie?) ahead. I don't think I'd go back to that place in my life. I've got too much to look forward to to worry about going backwards. My high school friends/cheer teammates Fashion Student and Scoop were there, too. It was sweet, seeing them. I hadn't seen them since January. Also, seeing them made me feel like I have grown since high school: I've made positive changes, accomplished goals, gotten my eyebrows waxed regularly, etc etc.
**This has been a common occurrence. Everybody at VS and the TV Station either has a boyfriend, a husband (!), or the upper-ear piercing that I want. Dammit, world, when is it gonna be MY turn?! I usually subscribe to the "be happy with what you have" and "your time will come" schools of thought but my jealous and impatient sides do sometimes rear their ugly heads. Especially with things of a boyfriendy nature.
Anyway, back to my original inquiry: where do I begin? The top? The inside? New shoes? Seriously, I'm flying blind, here. Guide me, o wise Internet! Or at least point me in the direction of a self-help book and a funny movie. Much obliged!
I know I need to change but where do I begin? Yes, that's it. It's like I have a huge room to clean but have no idea where to start. Maybe I need a book of some sort. We know the whole therapy thing doesn't work for me; it embarrasses me tremendously. Maybe I just need to call Bestest Friend Ever (BFE/BFF). Oh, wait...I just spotted my Bible. Those who know me know that I'm not usually in the business of going to church, but I do have my own strong relationship with Big Guns Upstairs (if you catch my drift), contrary to popular belief. Maybe God is the answer to my prayers. Well, you know what I mean.
Today I went to the grad party of Lil' Gymnast, a girl I used to cheer with in high school. Bless her heart, she's one of those girls who always has a doting boyfriend.** She'd "upgraded" to a new boy from the last time I saw her, and dammit if I wasn't a teensy bit jealous! Of her and her BF, not that she was embarking on college, having no idea what lay (lie?) ahead. I don't think I'd go back to that place in my life. I've got too much to look forward to to worry about going backwards. My high school friends/cheer teammates Fashion Student and Scoop were there, too. It was sweet, seeing them. I hadn't seen them since January. Also, seeing them made me feel like I have grown since high school: I've made positive changes, accomplished goals, gotten my eyebrows waxed regularly, etc etc.
**This has been a common occurrence. Everybody at VS and the TV Station either has a boyfriend, a husband (!), or the upper-ear piercing that I want. Dammit, world, when is it gonna be MY turn?! I usually subscribe to the "be happy with what you have" and "your time will come" schools of thought but my jealous and impatient sides do sometimes rear their ugly heads. Especially with things of a boyfriendy nature.
Anyway, back to my original inquiry: where do I begin? The top? The inside? New shoes? Seriously, I'm flying blind, here. Guide me, o wise Internet! Or at least point me in the direction of a self-help book and a funny movie. Much obliged!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Are You Shopping Anywhere?
Middle Sister had a nice lil' birthday. She's at her friend's house at her party as we speak. I've never been very social/sociable. Loud, impulsive, or flirty, yes. Had a group of friends or a "circle" or anything like that, or the ability to "work" a room? Not so much, not until I got to college, anyway. I mean, I guess I had a group here or there (BFF did throw me a surprise 16th birthday party), but I mostly keep to myself. This has often been perceived many different ways, including being "standoffish" or "pout," but I've always been the type to float to my corner every now and again and enjoy being there. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being around people, but just as much, even though sometimes I lament it, I really do crave my solitude. It keeps me from going crazy.
I got paid today, but in my head, my check is already gone! My materialistic side has reared its fugly head. But I will get just the essentials this time, and save the rest. Essentials include:
-Blackberry Curve (this may not be possible, it cost more than I thought)
-necklace with anchor charm (I've wanted it for a really long time)
-camel patent-leather heels (for work)
-stuff from VS that's on sale (I have a discount. Come on now)
-nail polish: OPI's St. Petersburgundy or Essie's Peach Daquiri ('cause I'm tragically addicted to nail color)
See? Compared to my original list (which is more like an anthology), that's not too bad. I won't even get a Bubble Tea or pick up the latest Cosmo. I know. It's called restraint.
I got paid today, but in my head, my check is already gone! My materialistic side has reared its fugly head. But I will get just the essentials this time, and save the rest. Essentials include:
-Blackberry Curve (this may not be possible, it cost more than I thought)
-necklace with anchor charm (I've wanted it for a really long time)
-camel patent-leather heels (for work)
-stuff from VS that's on sale (I have a discount. Come on now)
-nail polish: OPI's St. Petersburgundy or Essie's Peach Daquiri ('cause I'm tragically addicted to nail color)
See? Compared to my original list (which is more like an anthology), that's not too bad. I won't even get a Bubble Tea or pick up the latest Cosmo. I know. It's called restraint.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
A Long and Fruitful Life
Don't stone me! Don't send me to the gallows! I know I've been ghost, well, it feels like I've been. I've been super-duper busy and therefore tired as all get-out. But I did see all the comments everyone left about the letter and I appreciate them. When you're embarking on a soul-searching revolution (oh yes, it's that big), it helps to have a cheering section.
Anywho, I will say that Monday was a particular brand of bitch. I interned at the station from 10 until 5, drove home, changed clothes, and went to VS to help set up for the monumental sale we have every year. I love this sale, I have spent copious amounts of dollars at that sale. But I had no idea how much work it takes to put it together. Just like I had no idea we'd be there until 6:30AM setting up the store. By the end, I was a zombie. All I remember is my fried brain being like, "Blah blah Appletini yaddy yaddah Halo perfume it's hot as hell in this store Very Sexy hoo-hah so tired yakkety-yak can i go home now?" And then I had to come back to the store at noon to work again. You do the math. It was a lot.
I will be up at that sale using my discount, though. There are pieces from the Sexy Little Things, Body, and Angels collections with my name all over them. And I haven't even gotten to the Beauty department yet! There is serious work to be done, yo.
Interning is a refreshing change because the work is kind of spread out. Like I spent today on wikipedia looking up various assassinations, just because my work was done and I had nothing else to do. I covered Lincoln, JFK, Diana Princess of Wales, and John Lennon for good measure. Next time I might make it to Jimmy Hoffa and Selena, or the story of the Russian royal family, you know, the one that Disney movie Anastasia was based on. Fun times.
I'm also sad to report that Honey the hamster is no longer with us. She was Little Sister's responsibility, but she spent most of her life in her cage, doing her own thing. She was cute. I'd take her out occasionally. But, ah, Honey, I hardly knew ye. Rest in peace, my furry little friend.
This was back when she was just a little chicken nugget of a thing. She grew to about the size of a small Nerf ball.
Tomorrow is Middle Sister's birthday. I hope it goes better than her last birthday, when we got into a huge fight. You know the kind. The type you only have with your family members, that you don't even like to think about because the awful memory of the things each person said is enough to bring tears to your eyes? Yeah, it was one of those. So let's wish for better things, shall we?
Funny story. My Intern Boss passed around his camera because there was a picture of "some guy...everyone wanted a picture of him. Does anyone know who he is?" No one knew, and finally I asked to see it. It was a picture of the (tall and sexy) actor Boris Kodjoe, who apparently had stopped by the effing studio earlier that day! I was like, are you kidding? They had never heard of him or seen him at all. I had to pull up his Imdb listing. He's so tall, they thought he was a third-string Piston. SMH.
After my last post, I feel like I have to top that one with an even better one, and feel as if I'm failing miserably, LOL. Y'all will just have to settle for regular ole Lucky today. Other than being extremely tired yet happy be be bloggin' again, I'm just sailin' along.
Anywho, I will say that Monday was a particular brand of bitch. I interned at the station from 10 until 5, drove home, changed clothes, and went to VS to help set up for the monumental sale we have every year. I love this sale, I have spent copious amounts of dollars at that sale. But I had no idea how much work it takes to put it together. Just like I had no idea we'd be there until 6:30AM setting up the store. By the end, I was a zombie. All I remember is my fried brain being like, "Blah blah Appletini yaddy yaddah Halo perfume it's hot as hell in this store Very Sexy hoo-hah so tired yakkety-yak can i go home now?" And then I had to come back to the store at noon to work again. You do the math. It was a lot.
I will be up at that sale using my discount, though. There are pieces from the Sexy Little Things, Body, and Angels collections with my name all over them. And I haven't even gotten to the Beauty department yet! There is serious work to be done, yo.
Interning is a refreshing change because the work is kind of spread out. Like I spent today on wikipedia looking up various assassinations, just because my work was done and I had nothing else to do. I covered Lincoln, JFK, Diana Princess of Wales, and John Lennon for good measure. Next time I might make it to Jimmy Hoffa and Selena, or the story of the Russian royal family, you know, the one that Disney movie Anastasia was based on. Fun times.
I'm also sad to report that Honey the hamster is no longer with us. She was Little Sister's responsibility, but she spent most of her life in her cage, doing her own thing. She was cute. I'd take her out occasionally. But, ah, Honey, I hardly knew ye. Rest in peace, my furry little friend.
This was back when she was just a little chicken nugget of a thing. She grew to about the size of a small Nerf ball.
Tomorrow is Middle Sister's birthday. I hope it goes better than her last birthday, when we got into a huge fight. You know the kind. The type you only have with your family members, that you don't even like to think about because the awful memory of the things each person said is enough to bring tears to your eyes? Yeah, it was one of those. So let's wish for better things, shall we?
Funny story. My Intern Boss passed around his camera because there was a picture of "some guy...everyone wanted a picture of him. Does anyone know who he is?" No one knew, and finally I asked to see it. It was a picture of the (tall and sexy) actor Boris Kodjoe, who apparently had stopped by the effing studio earlier that day! I was like, are you kidding? They had never heard of him or seen him at all. I had to pull up his Imdb listing. He's so tall, they thought he was a third-string Piston. SMH.
After my last post, I feel like I have to top that one with an even better one, and feel as if I'm failing miserably, LOL. Y'all will just have to settle for regular ole Lucky today. Other than being extremely tired yet happy be be bloggin' again, I'm just sailin' along.
Monday, June 16, 2008
To My Ex-Best Friend
Dear girl who doesn't warrant a nickname because you'll likely never be mentioned here again,
It started with you. This whole cycle of struggling to maintain a sense of equality in a friendship began with you. You were the new girl in school, and we were paired together in 7th grade science class. You held your red parka closely wrapped around your slumped body because you were nervous being at a new school in a new state. We became fast friends; I'd never met anyone like you. My first trip to the movies without a parent was with you. Even that trip was trouble. You met up with strange guys without telling me and forgot to arrange a ride home for us. From then on, whatever mess you got yourself into, you made it my duty to get you out of them. And because I was so desperate for friendship, I did. I felt sorry for you. I never knew your whole backstory, but I knew enough. You didn't do well in school, I did. You shared a house with tons of crazy relatives, my family was loving and pretty much nuclear. I was so happy when you became "popular." Still, that doesn't excuse you conning me into spending a week's worth of my lunch money on a pizza for "us" (whose slices you gave away to others). And, still, I looked out for you, or tried to. Rides home, reviewing your essays, sharing food. These are things a friend offers, but I guess I was the only participant in that friendship because I don't ever remember you loaning me lunch money, giving me advice, or even piling into your aunt's car for a trip to the movies instead of my dad's.
In high school, you ignored me for almost the entirety of freshman year; for reasons still unknown. When we patched things up, things were fine for awhile, but your own bad decisions got you into trouble and of course, you blamed me for the consequences. When you moved away at the end of the year, I can't remember where our friendship left off. I know that after you called me a year or two later, on Christmas, I lost your number on purpose when we hung up. We were in two different places in our lives, and probably always were.
Fast forward to college. Various friendship-related episodes caused me to reflect on what kind of friend I am, and how I behave in interpersonal relationships. Trying to pinpoint significant friendships in my life, I thought about you and me. I wasn't strong or aware enough all through middle school (or freshman year) to realize this, but you took major advantage of me. When I look back, I'm extremely embarrassed for myself; I was young and naive and desperate for friendship. But more than wanting to yell at you, "shame on you, you self-centered narcissist," I want to tell my 7th grade self that I could and would be okay without your lacking excuse for friendship as a crutch.
I don't know what counts as "ill-feelings," but I'm pretty sure I don't harbor any towards you. I do know that I have no desire to have a relationship with you, and probably never will. That people-pleasing 12-year-old I used to be still pops into my head when I see your status on Facebook. You probably haven't thought about me since that call on Christmas, nor I you. But this letter is my way of telling you that you set the mold for my so-called "victim" behavior. And because that behavior plagued me so over the past year, I have a hard time forgiving you. Or mustering up the care to think about you at all.
I'm trying to work on myself, to learn to be better alone, to set my own terms for how I want people to treat me. And the first step is realizing that I don't have to be friends with anyone, no matter their story. There's a difference between being supportive and being a punching bag, and there is no "Everlast" on my t-shirt (anymore). My road to self-sufficiency starts now. So in an odd way, I guess, thanks. You knocked me down enough to make me realize the power and stability of my own two feet.
Sincerely,
a Lucky under renovation
It started with you. This whole cycle of struggling to maintain a sense of equality in a friendship began with you. You were the new girl in school, and we were paired together in 7th grade science class. You held your red parka closely wrapped around your slumped body because you were nervous being at a new school in a new state. We became fast friends; I'd never met anyone like you. My first trip to the movies without a parent was with you. Even that trip was trouble. You met up with strange guys without telling me and forgot to arrange a ride home for us. From then on, whatever mess you got yourself into, you made it my duty to get you out of them. And because I was so desperate for friendship, I did. I felt sorry for you. I never knew your whole backstory, but I knew enough. You didn't do well in school, I did. You shared a house with tons of crazy relatives, my family was loving and pretty much nuclear. I was so happy when you became "popular." Still, that doesn't excuse you conning me into spending a week's worth of my lunch money on a pizza for "us" (whose slices you gave away to others). And, still, I looked out for you, or tried to. Rides home, reviewing your essays, sharing food. These are things a friend offers, but I guess I was the only participant in that friendship because I don't ever remember you loaning me lunch money, giving me advice, or even piling into your aunt's car for a trip to the movies instead of my dad's.
In high school, you ignored me for almost the entirety of freshman year; for reasons still unknown. When we patched things up, things were fine for awhile, but your own bad decisions got you into trouble and of course, you blamed me for the consequences. When you moved away at the end of the year, I can't remember where our friendship left off. I know that after you called me a year or two later, on Christmas, I lost your number on purpose when we hung up. We were in two different places in our lives, and probably always were.
Fast forward to college. Various friendship-related episodes caused me to reflect on what kind of friend I am, and how I behave in interpersonal relationships. Trying to pinpoint significant friendships in my life, I thought about you and me. I wasn't strong or aware enough all through middle school (or freshman year) to realize this, but you took major advantage of me. When I look back, I'm extremely embarrassed for myself; I was young and naive and desperate for friendship. But more than wanting to yell at you, "shame on you, you self-centered narcissist," I want to tell my 7th grade self that I could and would be okay without your lacking excuse for friendship as a crutch.
I don't know what counts as "ill-feelings," but I'm pretty sure I don't harbor any towards you. I do know that I have no desire to have a relationship with you, and probably never will. That people-pleasing 12-year-old I used to be still pops into my head when I see your status on Facebook. You probably haven't thought about me since that call on Christmas, nor I you. But this letter is my way of telling you that you set the mold for my so-called "victim" behavior. And because that behavior plagued me so over the past year, I have a hard time forgiving you. Or mustering up the care to think about you at all.
I'm trying to work on myself, to learn to be better alone, to set my own terms for how I want people to treat me. And the first step is realizing that I don't have to be friends with anyone, no matter their story. There's a difference between being supportive and being a punching bag, and there is no "Everlast" on my t-shirt (anymore). My road to self-sufficiency starts now. So in an odd way, I guess, thanks. You knocked me down enough to make me realize the power and stability of my own two feet.
Sincerely,
a Lucky under renovation
Saturday, June 14, 2008
It's Kind of Hot, Isn't It?
Lordy but today was positively sweltering. But ice cream on a hot Saturday is the best remedy (thanks, Auntie! [Little Cousin's mom]). Still, instead of holing up to watch Grey's for hours (well, after a few episodes), I went to Target to buy a Father's Day present for Dad. He's just like me to shop for: on our birthdays or whatever, both of us ask for what we actually need. Like socks or undershirts or sports bras (well, that's me, obviously). And it's totally a genetic thing: Granddad, my dad's dad, asked for long johns last Christmas. I really am my father's daughter. Like yesterday, for example. You know the scene in that Amanda Bynes movie "What a Girl Wants" where she and her dad don't notice that they're mirroring each other's movements perfectly? Well that's how we were...it was pretty funny. He really is the best dad ever (to go along with the best mom ever, of course).
At Target there was this tall, Black, handsome grandpa walking with his wife and wearing black Converse All-Stars. I know I smiled like a huge dork when I passed him 'cause seeing him in those shoes just made me happy.
Little Cousin and I watched "Terminator" yesterday, his favorite movie du jour. I never realized how misogynistic that movie is. That or the horrendous hair and clothing. I guess I kept articulating it while we watched, and I guess LC picked up on it. When he watched it later with Middle Sister, he was like, "Her hair is so 80s!" Impressionable, much?
The rudeness! I'm watching "Hairspray" and Michelle Pfifer's character just asked if the musical sounds of [my city] were "the cries of people being mugged?" It's not right, but it's okay! That's why our motto is "We Don't Like You Either." Bitch.
Amanda Bynes is so cute, ever since "Ask Ashley" and "The Amanda Show."
You know what is sad? I was aimlessly wheeling my shopping cart down the aisles at Target for a minute, daydreaming. The first thought that popped into my head when I snapped out of it was, "Let me stop wheeling around, I'm wasting gas." LOL, right? There's a reason why money issues are one of the main causes of divorce: it's on everybody's mind because prices of things are just ridiculous! I went to the movies last night (by myself, I needed to get away) and the ticket was $10! I almost snatched my money back, thinking, where in Republican-caused inflation hell did the $8 tickets go?! And when I went to 7-11 for some M&M's, they were $1 instead of 60 cents! That was the final straw of life. This has got to stop...times is hard, yo!
PS, Laundry Watch ain't over.
Ordinarily I am diametrically opposed to no-talent celebrities getting press and/or public attention, but I have to admit: today I watched a little of "Living Lohan," that show about Lindsay Lohan's mom trying to propel her other daughter (next meal ticket) into stardom. Most of the time I just shook my head like, "Lord, have mercy." But it wasn't totally vomitous. There was one scene where she went to this performing arts workshop and was hella uncomfortable because she was in the midst of people her age with REAL TALENT. The show had glimpses of actual reality (a sad rarity): Dina Lohan (White Oprah) is the quintessential embarrassing mom, and Ali Lohan is a typical bratty teenager. Even though I don't believe in pseudo-celebrities, I had to give that scene of"LL" a begrudging Well-Played. But when I saw a commercial of "True Hollywood Story: The Kardashians," it was another stab to my shriveled black heart.
At Target there was this tall, Black, handsome grandpa walking with his wife and wearing black Converse All-Stars. I know I smiled like a huge dork when I passed him 'cause seeing him in those shoes just made me happy.
Little Cousin and I watched "Terminator" yesterday, his favorite movie du jour. I never realized how misogynistic that movie is. That or the horrendous hair and clothing. I guess I kept articulating it while we watched, and I guess LC picked up on it. When he watched it later with Middle Sister, he was like, "Her hair is so 80s!" Impressionable, much?
The rudeness! I'm watching "Hairspray" and Michelle Pfifer's character just asked if the musical sounds of [my city] were "the cries of people being mugged?" It's not right, but it's okay! That's why our motto is "We Don't Like You Either." Bitch.
Amanda Bynes is so cute, ever since "Ask Ashley" and "The Amanda Show."
You know what is sad? I was aimlessly wheeling my shopping cart down the aisles at Target for a minute, daydreaming. The first thought that popped into my head when I snapped out of it was, "Let me stop wheeling around, I'm wasting gas." LOL, right? There's a reason why money issues are one of the main causes of divorce: it's on everybody's mind because prices of things are just ridiculous! I went to the movies last night (by myself, I needed to get away) and the ticket was $10! I almost snatched my money back, thinking, where in Republican-caused inflation hell did the $8 tickets go?! And when I went to 7-11 for some M&M's, they were $1 instead of 60 cents! That was the final straw of life. This has got to stop...times is hard, yo!
PS, Laundry Watch ain't over.
Ordinarily I am diametrically opposed to no-talent celebrities getting press and/or public attention, but I have to admit: today I watched a little of "Living Lohan," that show about Lindsay Lohan's mom trying to propel her other daughter (next meal ticket) into stardom. Most of the time I just shook my head like, "Lord, have mercy." But it wasn't totally vomitous. There was one scene where she went to this performing arts workshop and was hella uncomfortable because she was in the midst of people her age with REAL TALENT. The show had glimpses of actual reality (a sad rarity): Dina Lohan (White Oprah) is the quintessential embarrassing mom, and Ali Lohan is a typical bratty teenager. Even though I don't believe in pseudo-celebrities, I had to give that scene of"LL" a begrudging Well-Played. But when I saw a commercial of "True Hollywood Story: The Kardashians," it was another stab to my shriveled black heart.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
"Sometimes I Hate Being Human"-Top Chef
At this very moment, I want to be back at school. Things are coming to a boil, I can feel it. I hope it doesn't, but I'm tired of annoying family ish and not being able to do what I want or wear what I want whenever I want to. I have also figured out that all of the things that people have ever said I needed to work on with my personality/being are genetic. It's like looking into a mirror of fugly!
Little Sister is watching "Norbit." God help me.
Newsflash: I work heels and a skirt to the station today! I know, right? Check me out! But I am worn out: "[Sigh]. I need a massage. And a manicure and a pedicure and a facial," (Jessica Simpson, on "Newlyweds"). Girl, I know.
There was a new intern for Website Girl (the mid-20s brunette who works at the station and has her own style website and is a little standoffish, at least towards me) at the station today. At first I thought she was going to be a little curt (like her boss), but she was very nice! And enthusiastic! And told me my job seems fun! Once I realized that she was, indeed, a sweetheart, I took a liking to her immediately. It may or may not have had something to do with her cool outfit and jet-black, awesomely poufy-in-the-front hair ("Thanks! But my hair's so, like, dirty!"). Once her and I started talking, Website Girl actually-gasp!-joined in on the conversation. So Yellow Sweater may have magic powers, too. Miss Manners wasn't in the office today, so I was quite bored today ('twas a sloooow day for all). But praise Kang Jaysus, y'all, that I have nothing to do tomorrow! No job, no internship(s)...oh, wait, I do have to watch Little Cousin. And finish an article. But that's okay. If I didn't have to drag my butt out of bed at an indecent hour and force myself to be productive, I just wouldn't know what to do with myself.
Little Sister is watching "Norbit." God help me.
Newsflash: I work heels and a skirt to the station today! I know, right? Check me out! But I am worn out: "[Sigh]. I need a massage. And a manicure and a pedicure and a facial," (Jessica Simpson, on "Newlyweds"). Girl, I know.
There was a new intern for Website Girl (the mid-20s brunette who works at the station and has her own style website and is a little standoffish, at least towards me) at the station today. At first I thought she was going to be a little curt (like her boss), but she was very nice! And enthusiastic! And told me my job seems fun! Once I realized that she was, indeed, a sweetheart, I took a liking to her immediately. It may or may not have had something to do with her cool outfit and jet-black, awesomely poufy-in-the-front hair ("Thanks! But my hair's so, like, dirty!"). Once her and I started talking, Website Girl actually-gasp!-joined in on the conversation. So Yellow Sweater may have magic powers, too. Miss Manners wasn't in the office today, so I was quite bored today ('twas a sloooow day for all). But praise Kang Jaysus, y'all, that I have nothing to do tomorrow! No job, no internship(s)...oh, wait, I do have to watch Little Cousin. And finish an article. But that's okay. If I didn't have to drag my butt out of bed at an indecent hour and force myself to be productive, I just wouldn't know what to do with myself.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
They Say Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery
For my own enjoyment, I just gave myself a Winehouse-esque beehive. It's about 2 3/4 feet shorter than hers, but it does come with a drawn-on beauty mark, big bamboo earrings, and an a capella, impromptu performance of "Tears Dry on Their Own." Even my mother laughed and asked if I planned to leave the house with it on. Maybe, I said. Just maybe.
What ever happened to the little brother from "Spy Kids"? I've seen the daughter pop-up on occasion, but never the curly-haired sprite, Juni Cortez. Donde esta? Oh, wait...he grew up cute! And he's done a thing or two, I guess. Nicely done. But while we're on the subject, the mom in this movie is a hot piece.
I found a cute (read: fine as hell) boy on my Facebook-friend list, but I am concerned that he might be a homosexualist. I used to be able to tell, now I am covertly suspicious.
I'm afraid to report that I am once again under a tragic Laundry Watch Part 2. We're getting our laundry room re-tiled, so the washer and dryer are sitting in the garage for the time being. Luckily, I just bought some new work clothes (and no, they do not include Lucite heels or a Velcro velvet dress, ma'am!) so I should be good. I am, however, running out of that which goes under my clothing so, chop chop!
What ever happened to the little brother from "Spy Kids"? I've seen the daughter pop-up on occasion, but never the curly-haired sprite, Juni Cortez. Donde esta? Oh, wait...he grew up cute! And he's done a thing or two, I guess. Nicely done. But while we're on the subject, the mom in this movie is a hot piece.
I found a cute (read: fine as hell) boy on my Facebook-friend list, but I am concerned that he might be a homosexualist. I used to be able to tell, now I am covertly suspicious.
I'm afraid to report that I am once again under a tragic Laundry Watch Part 2. We're getting our laundry room re-tiled, so the washer and dryer are sitting in the garage for the time being. Luckily, I just bought some new work clothes (and no, they do not include Lucite heels or a Velcro velvet dress, ma'am!) so I should be good. I am, however, running out of that which goes under my clothing so, chop chop!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Well-Played
Have gotten v. supportive and funny texts from friends in the past few days. Also have been too busy to write and stuff, so this post might have to stretch for a few days. So make it count!!
Yesterday's family party for my cousin (Engineer Cousin) and his fiancee was pretty fun, even though a heinous thunderstorm eventually made a mockery of our barbecue. Luckily everyone had just sat down to eat when my uncle looked out the window and said, "Batten the hatches, people!" Sure enough, ugly winds and rain came crashing down moments after, leaving us without TV and music for awhile. For the record, the Fiancee's ring is a huge monstrosity of a diamond, which looks even more so because of her petite little hand. She let my aunt and mom try it on. All I could do was shake my head...if I ever got a diamond ring that big, you'd have to pry it from my cold, dead hands to try it on. But that's just me.
Had to wake up and intern today, which was unlike the other days. I didn't have to wait in the lobby to be buzzed in, for starters (which actually meant that I didn't get to catch "Ellen" like I usually do waiting for someone to come get me). I spent the day researching trivia and history for a segment on [My City]. It was surprisingly fun; I didn't sit around like a big dork all day.
Later today, because 'twas a hot day, I took my sisters to my aunt's apartment complex for a swim with my Little Cousin. Unfortunately, the entire complex had the same idea, and Little Cousin didn't even join us. I didn't have a bathing suit, my sisters didn't want to get in without me (they're complicated, I know), and the sun had gone down. Basically, aside from hanging out briefly with my aunt, our little swim adventure was a bust, to be retried on one the of many upcoming hot days of summer.
One swimmer had an incredible body, though, as my sisters (and aunt) pointed out. He was okay looking, though. Kind of young. Not that I didn't get an eyeful anyway.
Tomorrow I have to wake up at the crack of dawn to work at VS. By the way, should I have left the store where I work anonymous as well? Just in case? I have no idea. But it's too late now. Or in any case, I'm too lazy to change every mention to "Lingerie Store." Ah, well. Anyway, tomorrow's my first official day, not in training. Wish me luck and let Jesus be kind customers!
Yesterday's family party for my cousin (Engineer Cousin) and his fiancee was pretty fun, even though a heinous thunderstorm eventually made a mockery of our barbecue. Luckily everyone had just sat down to eat when my uncle looked out the window and said, "Batten the hatches, people!" Sure enough, ugly winds and rain came crashing down moments after, leaving us without TV and music for awhile. For the record, the Fiancee's ring is a huge monstrosity of a diamond, which looks even more so because of her petite little hand. She let my aunt and mom try it on. All I could do was shake my head...if I ever got a diamond ring that big, you'd have to pry it from my cold, dead hands to try it on. But that's just me.
Had to wake up and intern today, which was unlike the other days. I didn't have to wait in the lobby to be buzzed in, for starters (which actually meant that I didn't get to catch "Ellen" like I usually do waiting for someone to come get me). I spent the day researching trivia and history for a segment on [My City]. It was surprisingly fun; I didn't sit around like a big dork all day.
Later today, because 'twas a hot day, I took my sisters to my aunt's apartment complex for a swim with my Little Cousin. Unfortunately, the entire complex had the same idea, and Little Cousin didn't even join us. I didn't have a bathing suit, my sisters didn't want to get in without me (they're complicated, I know), and the sun had gone down. Basically, aside from hanging out briefly with my aunt, our little swim adventure was a bust, to be retried on one the of many upcoming hot days of summer.
One swimmer had an incredible body, though, as my sisters (and aunt) pointed out. He was okay looking, though. Kind of young. Not that I didn't get an eyeful anyway.
Tomorrow I have to wake up at the crack of dawn to work at VS. By the way, should I have left the store where I work anonymous as well? Just in case? I have no idea. But it's too late now. Or in any case, I'm too lazy to change every mention to "Lingerie Store." Ah, well. Anyway, tomorrow's my first official day, not in training. Wish me luck and let Jesus be kind customers!
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Escandolo!
Well, not really. Just pure comedy. I don't usually entertain publicity stunts or that "infotainment" stuff, but this video I just could not resist. The TV show basically puts "Z-Listers" completely on blast for, well, being on the Z-List. Kim Kardashian is on there, which brought a tear of joy to mine eye. Phoebe Price is on there too. SMH @ that Southern accent.
Hilar, right? I know. But what's not hilarious at all are these pictures and video of Amy Winehouse that came up that apparently show her and Blake in their alleged crack den. A former "friend" of Blake's sold the pictures to a British tabloid. Damn, right? I understand the paparazzi being all up in your biz, but when your friends sell you out for a quick buck, to me, is mean. But anyway, the pictures are kind of sad, frankly, a little sickening. I couldn't even watch the video, and don't even feel like posting the link. I mean, I was listening to "Frank" while I went on Dlisted! And the commenters on the post basically made more fun of her. I really, really, really hope AW gets her life together and stops doing drugs (I do wanna hear what her publicist has to say to cover Amy's ass, though!).
I also keep thinking about this one post I wrote awhile back (during Laundry Watch, I think). I took something small and dramatacized my own point of view, for the sake of giving readers a chuckle and a "this child is too much!" It didn't turn out that way, though; apparently I came across as this like, crazy lady. Which is never cute. I'd never lie on this blog (if I have to lie about something, I'd just leave it out, natch) but I must re-iterate: don't take me too seriously. It will only give you a headache and I will look crazy, which we all know I'm not. Most of the time :)
Today was also my first day on the floor at VS. I worked in the fitting room and as a cashier. Working the register is something I can do without, but the FR was hectic and fun. It will be more fun once I'm able to decipher between the Body by [V] Demi Cup Push Up and the Very Sexy Extreme Push Up, or whatever. There's like 14 bras and this whole system to follow, and...it's a lot. But like I said, I like it. Know what else I like? The fact that I got the new BioFit Uplift bra today, for FREE. Yes, free and clear (of course I double checked). Retail value: well, far, far from free. I effin' love my job. Accidentally, though, I forgot to clock out until after I rang it up, which the manager rather curtly warned me against for the future. My bad, girl! I also need to work on saying terms like "nipple coverage" and "panty box" with a straight face (and yes, those are actual phrases).
Tomorrow is a family celebration to celebrate my cousin's engagement. It should be fun; maybe I'll take a tape measure and practice bra fitting on my aunts. Oh, the hilarity.
Hilar, right? I know. But what's not hilarious at all are these pictures and video of Amy Winehouse that came up that apparently show her and Blake in their alleged crack den. A former "friend" of Blake's sold the pictures to a British tabloid. Damn, right? I understand the paparazzi being all up in your biz, but when your friends sell you out for a quick buck, to me, is mean. But anyway, the pictures are kind of sad, frankly, a little sickening. I couldn't even watch the video, and don't even feel like posting the link. I mean, I was listening to "Frank" while I went on Dlisted! And the commenters on the post basically made more fun of her. I really, really, really hope AW gets her life together and stops doing drugs (I do wanna hear what her publicist has to say to cover Amy's ass, though!).
I also keep thinking about this one post I wrote awhile back (during Laundry Watch, I think). I took something small and dramatacized my own point of view, for the sake of giving readers a chuckle and a "this child is too much!" It didn't turn out that way, though; apparently I came across as this like, crazy lady. Which is never cute. I'd never lie on this blog (if I have to lie about something, I'd just leave it out, natch) but I must re-iterate: don't take me too seriously. It will only give you a headache and I will look crazy, which we all know I'm not. Most of the time :)
Today was also my first day on the floor at VS. I worked in the fitting room and as a cashier. Working the register is something I can do without, but the FR was hectic and fun. It will be more fun once I'm able to decipher between the Body by [V] Demi Cup Push Up and the Very Sexy Extreme Push Up, or whatever. There's like 14 bras and this whole system to follow, and...it's a lot. But like I said, I like it. Know what else I like? The fact that I got the new BioFit Uplift bra today, for FREE. Yes, free and clear (of course I double checked). Retail value: well, far, far from free. I effin' love my job. Accidentally, though, I forgot to clock out until after I rang it up, which the manager rather curtly warned me against for the future. My bad, girl! I also need to work on saying terms like "nipple coverage" and "panty box" with a straight face (and yes, those are actual phrases).
Tomorrow is a family celebration to celebrate my cousin's engagement. It should be fun; maybe I'll take a tape measure and practice bra fitting on my aunts. Oh, the hilarity.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Material Girl
Allow me to unleash my inner beauty blogger for a moment. Tonight, on the quest for super soft, silky skin, I ventured in the Holy Mecca of beauty booty: my mom's closet. And it did not disappoint. I found the tub of Lush's Karma Kream that we got her last Christmas. Lush is a line of bath and body stuff that uses natural ingredients and recycled packaging, so you know I love it. Some of their stuff is pretty cool, like their bath bombs and this moisturizer that looks like Jell-o. Fresh out of the shower, I applied some Karma Kream to my shoulders at first, and stuff works, y'all. It has a unique fragrance, and I can't stop rubbing my cheek against my shoulder 'cause it's so silky! I've liked Lush for awhile, but the price is a little rich for my blood. The Karma Kream cost about $25 bucks. But the body cream I want from Carol's Daughter, my other skincare love, is about $30. Once I get paid, though, the price will be quite justifiable to have touchable skin. And seeing as I don't spend that much money on clothes, I think it's a fair trade :)
Probably TMI: As much as I love skin stuff, however, nothing seems to be working for the fugly chicken bumps on my upper arms! The hell? Does anyone else get these in the summertime, 'cause they are ruining my sleeveless swag (even though I doubt they're noticeable to anyone but me).
Also, I finally went to the Girlprops website, and boy, am I glad I did. It's an accessories site, and their stuff is everywhere, and super cheap, thank God! I have a feeling that my girls would really like this site; we're all pretty much jewelry junkies. This site might even make me get over my paranoia about online shopping (I'm scared that I'll never get my order). But for this necklace (that's only $6.99, might I add), I totally would make an exception:
A horseshoe! Get it? Because I'm Lucky!
If you had to choose a charm to represent you, what would it be?
Probably TMI: As much as I love skin stuff, however, nothing seems to be working for the fugly chicken bumps on my upper arms! The hell? Does anyone else get these in the summertime, 'cause they are ruining my sleeveless swag (even though I doubt they're noticeable to anyone but me).
Also, I finally went to the Girlprops website, and boy, am I glad I did. It's an accessories site, and their stuff is everywhere, and super cheap, thank God! I have a feeling that my girls would really like this site; we're all pretty much jewelry junkies. This site might even make me get over my paranoia about online shopping (I'm scared that I'll never get my order). But for this necklace (that's only $6.99, might I add), I totally would make an exception:
A horseshoe! Get it? Because I'm Lucky!
If you had to choose a charm to represent you, what would it be?
Thursday, June 5, 2008
If I Didn't Love Her Before
I have the biggest girl-crush on Amy Winehouse. Well, maybe her and Rihanna are tied. I especially love this picture of her:
I mean, how freakin' cool does she look? It even says in the caption that the shirt she's wearing is actually her own. Why she has a shirt with famous black sorors on it, I have no idea. But rock on, b*tch!
And also I'm obsessed with this video:
It's an interview, but the last 2:14 are gold; it's an outtake of her singing "Valerie" (which we already know I love). Look how she's smiling. Her voice is effortlessly awesome. Oh, my God.
Ok, I'm done now. But seriously, how cute is she in her interview?!
I mean, how freakin' cool does she look? It even says in the caption that the shirt she's wearing is actually her own. Why she has a shirt with famous black sorors on it, I have no idea. But rock on, b*tch!
And also I'm obsessed with this video:
It's an interview, but the last 2:14 are gold; it's an outtake of her singing "Valerie" (which we already know I love). Look how she's smiling. Her voice is effortlessly awesome. Oh, my God.
Ok, I'm done now. But seriously, how cute is she in her interview?!
When it Rains, it Pours
Thank goodness. Actually did some work at the station today. I edited stories and they actually went on the station's website! Just like that. There's no byline, though, so I can't really use them in my portfolio. I also worked with the nicest intern I've met so far, hence her nickname, Miss Manners. She even let me follow her out of the parking lot onto the freeway so that I wouldn't get lost like I did on Monday (I asked passersby for help and got two different sets of directions). Before she got there, though, Top Chef and I texted all morning about our mutual boredom in the workplace.
Took Precious the Dog on a nice, long walk when I got home, squeezing in some endorphins and some exercise before a torrential downpour claimed the not-so-friendly skies. It's still going on now. Snow and rain are both so lovely to me. They give you a nice excuse to snuggle up inside. The only bad part about it was the humidity, the almost-rain in the air; it made my hair go poufy. Middle Sister sat me down with her polka-dotted flatiron, though, and all was resolved.
Still not reneging on my vow not to take up Off-Limits Boy, in case you were wondering. And even if I did, I'd have no way of contacting him. Not that I want to. Really.
Haha. I'm watching "Rush Hour" right now. Chris Tucker never ceases to crack me up. But one thing I've never been able to figure out: just which bad guy, exactly, is Juntao?! Unsolved mystery. But yippee, tomorrow's a day off, and Friday, I begin training at VS! I'm so excited (hello, discount! I've calculated that I will basically be working there for free). Things are good. In my head, I tried to finish off the statement, "In a perfect world, what would happen?" I was pleasantly surprised to realize that just about everything is in its place for now. Honestly. Except for the whole Pistons-being-eliminated thing and the no-disposable money-thing. But that's why I have a job, right? And, the Red Wings just won the Stanley Cup! So that's a nice little consolation.
Took Precious the Dog on a nice, long walk when I got home, squeezing in some endorphins and some exercise before a torrential downpour claimed the not-so-friendly skies. It's still going on now. Snow and rain are both so lovely to me. They give you a nice excuse to snuggle up inside. The only bad part about it was the humidity, the almost-rain in the air; it made my hair go poufy. Middle Sister sat me down with her polka-dotted flatiron, though, and all was resolved.
Still not reneging on my vow not to take up Off-Limits Boy, in case you were wondering. And even if I did, I'd have no way of contacting him. Not that I want to. Really.
Haha. I'm watching "Rush Hour" right now. Chris Tucker never ceases to crack me up. But one thing I've never been able to figure out: just which bad guy, exactly, is Juntao?! Unsolved mystery. But yippee, tomorrow's a day off, and Friday, I begin training at VS! I'm so excited (hello, discount! I've calculated that I will basically be working there for free). Things are good. In my head, I tried to finish off the statement, "In a perfect world, what would happen?" I was pleasantly surprised to realize that just about everything is in its place for now. Honestly. Except for the whole Pistons-being-eliminated thing and the no-disposable money-thing. But that's why I have a job, right? And, the Red Wings just won the Stanley Cup! So that's a nice little consolation.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
I Meant to Go to Bed an Hour Ago
A cup of green tea and the latest issue of Cosmo had other plans, however. Somehow I ended up sifting through the archives of this blog. More specifically, through all posts tagged "Men." I don't recommend you do so, because halfway through, I was just like, "I can't." Someone really should have slapped some sense into me at some point during this past school year. But let's move on.
I found a new one (that was fast, right? Don't judge me.) I think. I met him a time or two during the school year, and he was nice and cute. And tall. Three pluses.
But this has all the makings of a disaster, I just know it. For a lot** of reasons. For starters, I think he might be unavailable and/or taken. And if he's not, I get the impression that he is smarter than I, or at least more well-rounded. Now I am shallow by no means, but it goes past intimidating and onto annoying when someone continually tries to be "deep" and thrust upon you his philosophies on life and whatnot. I just don't have that kind of time. I need somebody dumb. Dumb and hot. LOL, I keed, I keed. Passably smart and hot is just fine :)
And anyway, I can't do the whole Facebook flirting thing anymore (sad, but true). For one, I've been banned from sending FB messages (for no reason, might I add). Which, as any FB flirt worth her salt knows, is a cornerstone of the whole institution. That's kind of put a damper on my game, as I'm always better with writing than talking. Not to mention, the idea of sending that first catalyst of a message, quite frankly, exhausts me. Let's just say I don't think I'll be making the first move for awhile, if ever. The whole dating scene just seems tiresome to me at this point. Who knows how I'll feel once school starts up, but for now, starting anything with anyone gets a no thanks. No boys for me. I'm on hiatus. Not to be confused with going on sabbatical. There's no breakup requisite involved in a hiatus, and the rules are much more lax. Still, I'll probably swing by the new guy's page a time or two again, just to keep myself from going crazy.
**Actually, considering this new fellow is probably an all-around bad idea. It would mean breaking most of the rules I set for myself:
-No more Southerners
-No more Facebook flirting (I'm trying, ok?)
-No more guys who are acquainted with your friends
-No more guys who are acquainted with ex-flings
-No more psuedo-philosophical guys
-No more smokers
-No more Southerners
I'd like to think I learned something from the last few escapades.
I found a new one (that was fast, right? Don't judge me.) I think. I met him a time or two during the school year, and he was nice and cute. And tall. Three pluses.
But this has all the makings of a disaster, I just know it. For a lot** of reasons. For starters, I think he might be unavailable and/or taken. And if he's not, I get the impression that he is smarter than I, or at least more well-rounded. Now I am shallow by no means, but it goes past intimidating and onto annoying when someone continually tries to be "deep" and thrust upon you his philosophies on life and whatnot. I just don't have that kind of time. I need somebody dumb. Dumb and hot. LOL, I keed, I keed. Passably smart and hot is just fine :)
And anyway, I can't do the whole Facebook flirting thing anymore (sad, but true). For one, I've been banned from sending FB messages (for no reason, might I add). Which, as any FB flirt worth her salt knows, is a cornerstone of the whole institution. That's kind of put a damper on my game, as I'm always better with writing than talking. Not to mention, the idea of sending that first catalyst of a message, quite frankly, exhausts me. Let's just say I don't think I'll be making the first move for awhile, if ever. The whole dating scene just seems tiresome to me at this point. Who knows how I'll feel once school starts up, but for now, starting anything with anyone gets a no thanks. No boys for me. I'm on hiatus. Not to be confused with going on sabbatical. There's no breakup requisite involved in a hiatus, and the rules are much more lax. Still, I'll probably swing by the new guy's page a time or two again, just to keep myself from going crazy.
**Actually, considering this new fellow is probably an all-around bad idea. It would mean breaking most of the rules I set for myself:
-No more Southerners
-No more Facebook flirting (I'm trying, ok?)
-No more guys who are acquainted with your friends
-No more guys who are acquainted with ex-flings
-No more psuedo-philosophical guys
-No more smokers
-No more Southerners
I'd like to think I learned something from the last few escapades.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
The Cups of My Brain Spilleth Over
Ah, nothing like a relaxing day spent plopped out on the various cushy, horizontal sitting apparatuses of my house. Somewhere in between "Living Single" reruns, doing my nails, and scarfing down the delicacy that is peanut butter-and Saltine cracker-sandwiches, I managed to swing by CNN and check out the numbers. Satisfied that Barack is, indeed, raining on them hoes, I happily switched back over to the "Deion and Pilar" marathon and went about my business (Pilar is great and has a banging body but homegirl cannot dress). And surfed the web for "Obama is my homeboy" t-shirts.
I think I might want a baseball or football player as a husband. Because if I married a basketball player, I might have to switch to supporting whatever team he plays for, which would result in the media branding me a "turncoat" or "treacherous wife" because there's no way I would ever switch my loyalty. Baseball and football are pretty much neutral to me (save the New England Patriots), thus avoiding that problem.
Or, hell, I'll just take him:
Yum. As a matter of fact, when you have soccer players, wrestlers and runners, who needs basketball players, anyway? (Unless it's my boo Al Horford, of course).
Update: Oh, my God, I just found his blog (the guy pictured above, not Al's)! Jesus be a Google search! But what should I do with this vital information?? I feel like I've stumbled upon gold...
This afternoon was a rainy one. Rainy and cozy, just how I like it. I burrowed in the basement, my favorite room in the house, to watch "Under the Tuscan Sun" with a blanket, in the dark, and ended up falling asleep. I haven't slept in the middle of the afternoon in awhile, and now I'll be up for hours. Which is bad because I have to get up early (again) to go to the TV Station. Tomorrow will be (should be) better because I'll actually be doing stuff. Because I swear, if they have me just hanging out, watching other people work, I'm busting out my Ipod and a magazine.
I think I might want a baseball or football player as a husband. Because if I married a basketball player, I might have to switch to supporting whatever team he plays for, which would result in the media branding me a "turncoat" or "treacherous wife" because there's no way I would ever switch my loyalty. Baseball and football are pretty much neutral to me (save the New England Patriots), thus avoiding that problem.
Or, hell, I'll just take him:
Yum. As a matter of fact, when you have soccer players, wrestlers and runners, who needs basketball players, anyway? (Unless it's my boo Al Horford, of course).
Update: Oh, my God, I just found his blog (the guy pictured above, not Al's)! Jesus be a Google search! But what should I do with this vital information?? I feel like I've stumbled upon gold...
This afternoon was a rainy one. Rainy and cozy, just how I like it. I burrowed in the basement, my favorite room in the house, to watch "Under the Tuscan Sun" with a blanket, in the dark, and ended up falling asleep. I haven't slept in the middle of the afternoon in awhile, and now I'll be up for hours. Which is bad because I have to get up early (again) to go to the TV Station. Tomorrow will be (should be) better because I'll actually be doing stuff. Because I swear, if they have me just hanging out, watching other people work, I'm busting out my Ipod and a magazine.
Monday, June 2, 2008
I Work Nobody's Corner, Ma'am!
Oh. My. God. My feet hurt. I have a headache. My stomach is on the verge of exploding. I'm just tired as hell. Perhaps working mornings doesn't agree with my nocturnal being just yet?
My first day at the station was somewhat eventful. I braved the freeway and commuter traffic, made it there on time, only to be stymied by parking issues. I spent 15 minutes haggling with the attendant and his (hot) co-attendant (or whatever it's called) because I forgot to bring any money. This was all because he neglected to mention that TV Station had a free employee parking lot down the street. Gee, thanks, buddy. And once I got inside, the guy who interviewed me came down, jolly as ever as he said, "We weren't even expecting you today!" You could have knocked me over with a feather. And that, of course, meant that there wasn't much for me to do, resulting in unfortunate boredom. Watching hours and hours of video footage, to me, has been and will always be bo-ring. But what can you do? I go back on Wednesday, when we eke out a more definite schedule that won't have me awake, dressed, and driving unnecessarily. I would describe my fellow interns, but there's not much to tell. Plus, I'm super exhausted. Thank God I have tomorrow off.
While visiting the Sprint store this weekend, I drooled over the cutest phone and the latest object of my cellular affection, the Blackberry Curve.
It's adorable, right? But I can't help but feel as if I'm forsaking the phone I originally wanted, the Moto Q 9c, which seems so bulky in comparison now.
I've heard about the downsides of Blackerrys, though. I'm scared! Y'all remember how much effort it took to buy my new laptop. You take your phone everywhere. It has to be the right choice. Decisions, decisions!
My first day at the station was somewhat eventful. I braved the freeway and commuter traffic, made it there on time, only to be stymied by parking issues. I spent 15 minutes haggling with the attendant and his (hot) co-attendant (or whatever it's called) because I forgot to bring any money. This was all because he neglected to mention that TV Station had a free employee parking lot down the street. Gee, thanks, buddy. And once I got inside, the guy who interviewed me came down, jolly as ever as he said, "We weren't even expecting you today!" You could have knocked me over with a feather. And that, of course, meant that there wasn't much for me to do, resulting in unfortunate boredom. Watching hours and hours of video footage, to me, has been and will always be bo-ring. But what can you do? I go back on Wednesday, when we eke out a more definite schedule that won't have me awake, dressed, and driving unnecessarily. I would describe my fellow interns, but there's not much to tell. Plus, I'm super exhausted. Thank God I have tomorrow off.
While visiting the Sprint store this weekend, I drooled over the cutest phone and the latest object of my cellular affection, the Blackberry Curve.
It's adorable, right? But I can't help but feel as if I'm forsaking the phone I originally wanted, the Moto Q 9c, which seems so bulky in comparison now.
I've heard about the downsides of Blackerrys, though. I'm scared! Y'all remember how much effort it took to buy my new laptop. You take your phone everywhere. It has to be the right choice. Decisions, decisions!
All in the Family
I love my people, honestly I do, but sometimes they are head-scratching perplexing. Take my mom for example. I think she's going through a mid-life crisis because her birthday is coming up. She's wearing her hair in a small Afro, bought a Bob Marley t-shirt, taken me with her to see the Sex and the City movie, got an Ipod and a Facebook since I've been home. Oh yes. "[My mom] has sent you a friend request" popped up in my inbox today. I hit "ignore." I cannot and will not have my mother as my friend on Facebook, that is where the proverbial line is drawn. It was embarrassing, no, mortifying, enough sitting next to my mother while Miranda and Steve got in on during the SATC movie. She must be stopped and fast. Next thing you know she'll start a blog! Oh, my ever-loving, God, if she finds tGitG, I will kill myself.
Moving on, the SATC movie was an ode to fans of the show everywhere. It would have been the perfect flick to see with Cali Girl, Sistah Girl, ex-Roommate, and hell, our friend "Jack," too (yes, the nickname is of "Will and Grace" fame). That would have been a complete ball. Expect a girlie movie night in the future, when the film comes out on DVD and we're all back together in [College City].
I start my internship tomorrow. I told y'all about it, right? The one at the news station that I interviewed for on Friday. I'm nervous. It's a real, live internship, where I'm expected to, like, do work and stuff. There are expectations thrust upon me that I have to live up to, or I'll a) hate myself, 2) never hear the end of it. Speaking of which, and this goes back to family...
All the years of trying to please my parents has finally caught up to me in the form of a complex. It's a particular, two-pronged one, too: not only do I think that everyone expects the absolute best of me, but my conscience seems to have taken the figure of my parents giving me a lecture. A 19-year-old going to college 700 miles away from home, afraid of disappointing her parents and thinks about what they would say before making even the smallest of decisions. That habit used to just guide me, now it's sort of crippling. Like, sometimes I can't buy a shirt without wondering first if my mom would chastise me for buying something so (in her opinion) tight/unflattering/expensive. I've got to find a way to incorporate the values and expectations my parents have set for me with what I want for myself. They give good advice and want me to be sensible, but, I mean, nobody got to do anything amazing by being sensible ALL the time. Of course my parents only want and only have ever wanted the best for me, but somewhere along the line, that turned into me only doing (or not doing) or worrying about something for the sake of, "what would my parents think?" For example, the (ahem, second) time I let tequila get the better of me, all I could picture was my father's face, which made me feel incredibly guilty. But that can also be a good thing, because his face is what brought common sense and reality back to me, before I made a big mistake. So we'll see. I need to learn to be emotionally independent from my parents, while still heeding their advice when necessary. I need to grow up and start doing things on my own.
I need some new clothes, too. I have come to almost loathe everything I own, and everything I don't own. I'm kind of a wanderer, style-wise. My clothes are boring, or perhaps I put them together in a boring way? I'm not that much of a risk-taker, but I'd like to be. And since I'm learning to stand on my own two feet and all, why not stand in them in an amazing outfit and a killer pair of heels?
Moving on, the SATC movie was an ode to fans of the show everywhere. It would have been the perfect flick to see with Cali Girl, Sistah Girl, ex-Roommate, and hell, our friend "Jack," too (yes, the nickname is of "Will and Grace" fame). That would have been a complete ball. Expect a girlie movie night in the future, when the film comes out on DVD and we're all back together in [College City].
I start my internship tomorrow. I told y'all about it, right? The one at the news station that I interviewed for on Friday. I'm nervous. It's a real, live internship, where I'm expected to, like, do work and stuff. There are expectations thrust upon me that I have to live up to, or I'll a) hate myself, 2) never hear the end of it. Speaking of which, and this goes back to family...
All the years of trying to please my parents has finally caught up to me in the form of a complex. It's a particular, two-pronged one, too: not only do I think that everyone expects the absolute best of me, but my conscience seems to have taken the figure of my parents giving me a lecture. A 19-year-old going to college 700 miles away from home, afraid of disappointing her parents and thinks about what they would say before making even the smallest of decisions. That habit used to just guide me, now it's sort of crippling. Like, sometimes I can't buy a shirt without wondering first if my mom would chastise me for buying something so (in her opinion) tight/unflattering/expensive. I've got to find a way to incorporate the values and expectations my parents have set for me with what I want for myself. They give good advice and want me to be sensible, but, I mean, nobody got to do anything amazing by being sensible ALL the time. Of course my parents only want and only have ever wanted the best for me, but somewhere along the line, that turned into me only doing (or not doing) or worrying about something for the sake of, "what would my parents think?" For example, the (ahem, second) time I let tequila get the better of me, all I could picture was my father's face, which made me feel incredibly guilty. But that can also be a good thing, because his face is what brought common sense and reality back to me, before I made a big mistake. So we'll see. I need to learn to be emotionally independent from my parents, while still heeding their advice when necessary. I need to grow up and start doing things on my own.
I need some new clothes, too. I have come to almost loathe everything I own, and everything I don't own. I'm kind of a wanderer, style-wise. My clothes are boring, or perhaps I put them together in a boring way? I'm not that much of a risk-taker, but I'd like to be. And since I'm learning to stand on my own two feet and all, why not stand in them in an amazing outfit and a killer pair of heels?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
