Tuesday, February 24, 2009

I Even Made the Bed this Morning

Just wanted to drop a little news flash on you guys that I'm in a good mood. I know, right? It shouldn't be a news flash, but since I have been a little bit of a Debbie Downer lately so I thought it was only fair to come in a drop a little goodness as well.

Blogosphere asks, "Don't you have homework to do?"

Lucky replies, "I don't...see what that has to do with this current conversation that we're having..."

Okay, okay, I'm going. Hope you're all having a good day!

Whew, that was a lot of good cheer right there. Slightly unfamiliar. SNARK. That's better.

PS: Dare I say, I kind of...liked Beyonce's dress at the Oscars? Yes, it's House of Dereon (pause) but it worked for me.

Help Me! Help Me!

Today, I hauled my arse out of my warm, womb-like bed to make it to class on time. I used my gas and daily parking fundage in my quest to be and stay a good student. Lo and behold, by happy coincidence and Our Father Who Art in Heaven, all of my classes were canceled. Very goot, very goot. I had lunch with the Artist, Motown Lover, and Mr. GQ and 'twas fun, right?

Then my teacher just flipped the script on a bitch. I pulled up the online assignment and to mine eyes appeared this horrible abombination:

Bernard Bell** has assisted us in considering the ways that contemporary writers are employing and exploring theories of "being." Modernism is a word that has come to stand for a set of "humanist" beliefs: that we live in a world that is knowable to us through processes of reason; that language can reliably depict and reveal the Real World; that there is a Real World; that writers are in control of language, words and meaning. Modernist writers also predicted the rejection of traditions (that were tied to the "unreason" of religious beliefs vs. reason; the agrarian society vs. the industrial age; and the rituals of station and the stationary family vs. mass population movements due to war or economic privation, etc. Everett 's plot is built on the idea that the murder of his narrator's beloved daughter has upset his belief in reason and has also unmoored the meanings of words (look up structuralism for diachronic and synchronic meaning) and even his ability to establish his meanings. Your assignment is to explore the novelist's "proposition" (stated above) by analyzing the author's title, The Water Cure. Consider the title's relationship to the novel AND to the "real world." This work is for discussion in Wednesday's class, so be well prepared.

Okay. I read [half of] the book, and I've been awake the past two classes so I thought I at least sort of knew what my class is on about. Until I read this assignment description. And posed this question:

What the fucking
fuck is my teacher asking for? Can one of y'all smarties break something down for me? I read the above paragraph three times and I'm still here. Confused, but by God, I am here.

**I'm taking Bernard Bell off of my Top Friends on Myspace (if I had one). He wrote the worst textbook known to mankind and I kind of hate him for it. We ain't friends.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

An Eventful Saturday

Today we saw "Madea Goes to Jail." I liked it. Derek Luke pronounces his "d's" at the end of his words very oddly--a lisp, of sorts. Words like "decided" or "decision" or "didn't," forget it. There was this scene where he was crying his eyes out in a pure display of raw emotion and I could not understand a word he said.

Kind of dampened the effect a smidge.

But the total best part was when the heroine was on the couch crying and he got behind her and wrapped his big, brown muscley arms around her and I think it was raining and...just...oo-er.

It was so sweet I wanted to drop dead in the middle of the theater. Or theatre as our French friends would say.

I leaned over to Cali Girl and whisper/talked, "if I'm lonely when we get home tonight let's cuddle, ok?" She threw popcorn at me.

Now that I think about it, seeing him all brawny and Antwon Fisher-y put a slight logistical and aesthetic damper in my plans to trap That Boy because he is tall and kind of skinny and I am tall with the remnants of donuts past on my bones. So together we would look like the number 18 and I don't know how to feel about that.

I am sure Kristen Davis is a lovely woman but I'll be damned if I do not HATE CHARLOTTE YORK. WITH A PASSION.

That scene in SATC: The Movie where the girls are helping the jilted and be-turbaned Carrie back into the limo while shooting death glares at Big would have been sooo much better if Samantha would have flipped him off. Men are surprisingly touchy about that.

Which, of course, I had to learn the hard way.

I love fun, sunny Saturdays. But one caveat: I'm supposed to get my paychecks via direct deposit, right? I signed up for it especially so I wouldn't have to truck out to the bank, which I would undoubtedly forget to do. Instead, in theory, every two weeks the Money Fairy pops in and make it all better.

Um, I need to find that lazy bitch and tell her what's what. My account says "it's all good" on payday, so I do a TEENY bit of shopping, and check my balance on Saturday and it says "no ma'am." I DON'T GET IT. Managing Money 101, I need thee. When does my check clear for real?? Clear as in no strings, no gotta wait for it to post, CLEAR?!?! The only reason I signed up for direct deposit was so that every other Friday at 3pm, BOOM, a few more dollars to my name. A couple extra pennies, chile. No muss, no fuss. But no.

Alas, "simple," "money," and "my life" just do not go well together. Oh, well. Least I got some. It's a recession.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Covert Ops

What kind of world is this where the Pistons are one game under .500? A world in which I do not want to live, Jack.

Anyway guess what. I was innocently walking to my campus when I happened to glance in the window of the coffee shop/convenience store. And what did mine eyes see? HIM. At first I kept on walking, but then the counseling faces of my readers appeared (or what I imagine they look like, anyway) and I stopped suddenly. It was like I hit an imaginary wall, which probably looked mighty comical.

I scurried into the coffee shop bathroom [to make up a game plan/brush my hair]. Emboldened with, well, I don't know, I emerged ready for flirtage, walked over to the store, and looked into the face of...someone else.

I looked around in what I hope was a discreet manner. Where the HELL did he go? I went outside, hoping to see him sauntering nearby, but no dice. And he's tall, so in theory he should've been relatively easy to spot. Alas, nothing. 'Twas not meant to be today. So after all of that, why tell ye dear readers? For a laugh? For pity? Not quite.

To let you know that I am trying, dammit.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

She Works Hard-ish for the Money

OMFG work is so boring. There's nothing to do right now. As exciting and fast-paced as the wonderful world of sports is, there is some down time. The period around a little after halftime to a few minutes into the fourth is usually the dryest of the game, and tonight did not deviate from this highly scientific theory.

All of my usual methods of work-related entertainment are failing to keep my attention. My iPod is on, I took a little nap, and ate some Wendy's. I've sifted through all the new pictures of [Kobe Bryant] All-Star Weekend and read most of the comments on VSB. Usually I would turn to Facebook or anything else on the internets but my boss is doing this annoying thing where he looks over at my computer just as I start to have a little fun. Hmpf.

I'm being semi-productive though, right, by using this time to update? Go me. Today is BFF's birthday. I texted her, no answer. Even though we sorta smoothed things over, we haven't spoken in so long I feel like we're BFF's in name only. In practice, you are not supposed to avoid calling said BFF for fear of the awkwardness that no doubt has ensued as a result of not talking for two months. This saddens me greatly so let's move on...

...To how I passed That Boy and he did not seem to [feel the fire of my lust] notice me. Funnily enough, I remember passing Tex in that exact same spot last year, to similar results. So I made the executive decision** to take the L on this one. I've seen him twice since Motown Lover introduced us and let's just say the fireworks have not sparked; his interest surely should have peaked by now, but um, no. And I am not in the mood nor spirit to go man-chasing. Therefore, that's a wrap. Next!

Or...not. Am I being dramatic again? What say ye?

**Yesterday my boss used the term "I'm going to make an executive decision" with a totally straight face. What a goober.

PS-the word "ladyboy" is hil-ARIOUS to me. Go ahead, say it: ladyboy. Hahahahahaha.

Rinse and repeat.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Floating On By

I feel restless.

It's the time of year. I remember feeling like this around the same time last year, and probably the year before that. Like I'm floating by on autopilot with nothing really exciting and shiny new to catch my eye. You know how they always say not to wear jewelry in the water because it attracts sharks to the glimmer? Either I'm not a shark or nobody is wearing anything pretty, because Lucky is bored. Along with being stressed, tired, and busy: these things are not mutually exclusive. Work is fun, I guess, but I need a shake up! I changed my hair...thinking that would count. Um, no, it did not.

Usually around this time a boy would peak my interest. Remember last year when I got hella drunk*at Top Chef's house, where the Smoker made his first onscreen cameo? I left for break two days later. And thus it all began. So in some ways I'm right on schedule. I guess. In the olden days I would have already sent The Boy a Facebook message, but something about this time feels different, like that would be a waste of time. Plus I am scared now of making the first move (we are assuming that FB messaging is a Move) being futile because, after all, if he was interested he would have reached out first, right? Do you see why I yam what I yam?

*Maybe liquor is the answer.

Spring break is coming up, one bright spot. The gang's going to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Fun and sun should be fun! I made a rhyme. Anyway. I have the money (thank you, Big Sports Network!) and a bathing suit, what else do you really need on vacation? Oh, now I'm having happy thoughts--who doesn't need a vacation? I get paid on Friday, maybe I'll do some pre-pre Spring break shopping. Or I could do the responsible thing and save it for the trip.


Exercise is yet another option so that we look good in said bathing suit.

*more crickets*

I'll do what I can. Myrtle Beach in 18 days!

Saturday, February 14, 2009


Right now the hair is done, the dress is on, and the heels are high. I'm at a school gala with people from the Paper. It's not exactly fun. If it were I wouldn't be reaching for consolation in the blogosphere.

And on my third glass of wine.

Update: SOS and Code Red Alert: the boy I like is here. I haven't mentioned him before because there's nothing to tell (and there still really isn't). But he's just so cute. And tall. And Motown Lover knows him a little. He actually introduced me to him at this function last night--nothing groundbreaking, though, he just smiled and shook my hand before talking to ML for a second. And that was it. I can't lie I was a little dejected he didn't look twice at me. Once again I happened to be in full-on glamour mode [my hair was awesome and my chesteses were out]--if that didn't get a second look, shit, nothing will. Not to mention he came with a girl. Surprisingly (or, sadly, unsurprisingly) that's not what worried me. What worried me was the fact that this girl is frilly and Southern-belle-y and ladylike, and if that's his type, hell, I don't have a whore's chance in heaven with him anyway...

I want to go say hi but...um, we know me. I am shy, dammit.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Blast From the Texan past

Oh, life. You are funny.

Sidenote: this girl next to me has a huge zit and I can't stop looking at it. Dios mio.


Not nan a week after I delete Tex's number, he shows up on campus for a visit. This is like the third time he's been here since he up and left last year. Does he not have classes? Get off of my campus!

More updates as they become available. Which will probably be...never, seeing as I scurry like a loser every time he shows up.

Humble Pie Tastes Like Pecan

It seems that I have been hosting my very own pity-party for quite some time now. Here's to hoping it stops soon, but if the situation hasn't changed, why would it? We might be in it for the long haul, folks. I am trying to pull myself up by the bootstraps and keep my head on straight, but I always feel hopelessly off-kilter.

I need something to shake me up, you know? I feel like I'm phoning the game in instead of actually playing in it. I'm content, but not satisfied. On Saturday, Cali Girl, Ms. Politics, Dr. Argentina and I went to Target, and it was the most laugh-out-loud fun I've had in weeks. Life is in subtle earth tones at the moment, and I want it in Technicolor. But I can't figure out how. I mean, thinking about things like Usher's "Trading Places" video and what I can buy with my new paycheck makes me momentarily happy, but nothing actually in MY life is currently producing the same results. I used to be content with the little things, what happened? I think I've lost sight of them.

Earlier, though, I was forced to swallow a large dose of Perspective with my daily glass of Pepsi. Apparently, all that glitters ain't gold, and people who you think have everything under control really don't. Namely, my roommate. She of seemingly perfect life, that is. Well, I found out today that, well, she doesn't. I mean, I knew she wasn't perfect or anything but now I KNOW she's not, and in some ways, I'm better off than she is at the moment. Which helps but not that much, because you never want your happiness to come at the expense of someone else's. I may complain about her but I hope everything works out for her at the same time. I'm a good person like that.

I guess that was God's way of telling me to stop whining.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Grammys and the Pistons

Will be checking into the Grammys periodically, but the Pistons are also on TV, and well, you know my heart. A few observations thus far:

-Get the FUCK into Whitney Houston! Pre-Grammy botox did her face RIGHT.
-J-Hud looks so pretty...OMG is that Punk???
-Since when does The Rock fancy himself a comedian?
-"Thank you, Dwyane," says Justin Timberlake, dripping with good-natured sarcasm.
-"Let's Stay Together"? "Love and Happiness"? Oh, JT and your "blue-eyed soul." He knows those songs are the ways to black folks' hearts. Is that texturizer in his hair?
-JT is singing with Al Green. I don't know how to feel. You'd think Justin's falsetto would pull this off better, but, not quite. A for effort 'cause he's nervous.
-Damn! Al outsang Justin with that one high note. That note said "You may have felt up Janet Jackson, kid, but I am a LEGEND. Know this."
-WTF is this Chris Brown and Rihanna drama? If it comes out that he went Ike Turner on her we are officially not friends.
-Kanye and Estelle are a) performing last summer's anthem 2) looking like aluminum foil. I quit.
-YAY Adele won for Best New Artist! Thank you for making all of those hours hiding behind over-priced lingerie and sampling perfumes at VS bearable with "Melt My Heart to Stone"!
-MIA is hilarious to me right now. Everybody in the audience is kinda laughing, watching her waddle around throwing up the Roc. But around those guys I hope she pulled rank during rehearsals: "I am SO serious. NO weed around me." I'd think that they wouldn't let her perform for liability reasons, but hey, she G'd it out. I fucks with MIA for that one.
*I'm having this fantasy of TI, Jay-Z, Kanye, and Lil' Wayne backstage, gathering around MIA, watching out for her and rubbing her belly. It is quite precious.*
-Kate Beckinsale looks pretty. But bitch, CLEARLY MIA is due soon. Homegirl looks like she was due like two months ago.

-I'm on a diet now but I want some more ice cream.

-Two things garnered from this old white man who is speaking before us: a) I would very much like to visit the Grammy Museum 2) Secretary of the Arts is a good idea. Also, I REALLY hope BHO copyrighted "Yes We Can."
-The Four Tops look very snazzy. Along with Smokey Robinson and Ne-Yo. I'm digging this black tuxedo business. Jamie Foxx is channeling Jimmy Early right now. Why? I don't know. Regardless, I'm loving this performance.
-Squeeeeeee John Mayer! I know he loves all those bluesy guys so I know how much he must be digging this right now. At first I wasn't sure if it was him, but I'd recognize those silly faces he makes when he sings from anywhere. I have, after all, seen him twice in concert :]
-LIEUTENANT DAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-Lol @ "not so little." Lil' Wayne is literally five feet tall.
-Wayne looks...dare I say...clean? Cute? I'm digging his shoes. Now that I've gotten my check I'm on the hunt for some Jordans and therefore have been keeping tabs on people's shoe game.
-I want to order "When the Levees Broke" on Amazon.com
-For one shining moment I thought he was going to introduce Terrance Howard.
-Take away T-Pain's hat and he looks like any other tacky Southern mofo on the street. This, my friends, is progress.
-Look at Solange! Next to Jay-Z! And TI and Piglet! Solange looked pretty decent but you know she's appearing as Bey's stand-in. And probably wearing wicker shoes and rainbow tights.
-Debra Lee's whack ass.
-YES Tha Carter III!
-Wayne, you were onstage for two seconds. Why all those people? But I see Reginae in her dress that you KNOW came from FKO. Bless her.
-Homegirl in the back in the white suit's bra is showing.
-Album of the Year: Raising Sand?? Who are these people?? Chile my melanin is showing...
-I never get tired of Stevie Wonder's head shake. But those braids that start halfway down his head have got to go.

Wellp, that's all the time I have for you folks. The Grammys left me slightly underwhelmed, but hey. It's the recession. Now I must go stalk the internets for pictures of dresses and, for real, for real, where the heck was Sasha Fierce?

Saturday, February 7, 2009

A Little Objectification Never Hurt Anyone

*Peeks in, ready to duck should projectiles be projected*

I have been bad. I have been neglecting you all. Take me back, baby, I'm sorry. I love you, I really do.



I wish I could return with a happy post but today is just not the day. Eating feelings may have been involved. Here is what I am dealing with: my roommate has guests over: a gal-pal and, guess who else, her doting boyfriend. Said gal-pal, funnily enough, thinks it's precious to not call this young man by his government name, but instead refer to him simply as "Boyfriend." As in, "Boyfriend? Boyfriend, are you downstairs?" If that wasn't enough (and it never is), in one day I had to sit near Science Guy and his girlfriend and hear about the Smoker and his girlfriend.

Am I never to be free?

Not to mention attend a school pageant-like function which brings out the Who's Who of campus--legions of pretty, well-adjusted, coupled up people prancing around and blocking walkways with their fabulosity. Said people are extremely annoying and not easy to navigate around, especially when one has a painfully full bladder.

All three of us were in a bit of a funk today. We even had a "Daria" moment:
Ms. Politics: Look at all these happy people.
Cali Girl and Me together: I hate them.

Please factor in my PMS-ing, which translates roughly to feelings of depression, fatness, and fugliness, and we have a "God? Are you up there? No, for real, someone make sure he's still there because I am totally not sure that He is in the building taking calls," situation.

Maybe I'm not encapsulating properly the magnitude of my feelings of inferiority, but imagine feeling cruddy and being surrounded by these people who seemingly have everything YOU want and are flaunting it in front of you. Multiply that feeling by 7890 lbs of food and you will have, at this moment, me.

If it sounds like I am whining, it is because I AM.

Thank you and goodnight.

PS: not to undermine the sadnessosity of this post, but said sadness has been slightly alleviated because "Womanizer" is quite fun to sing out loud to with vigorous head-nodding and dramatic finger-pointing. Just so you know.

PPS: My first paycheck came in today. God may not be on my side today (I keed) but He surely is in my checking account. GLORY!

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Moving On, cont'd

I just deleted Tex's phone number. Yay for me. Scoff if you will, but I like to think it's another way of me looking out for my star (fucking) player.

Game time.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Super Sunday

I am not woman enough to liveblog the entire Super Bowl, but before I do my part as an American and tune in to The Big Game, I must say this:


Why, I almost cried. I definitely had to clutch my pearls on that one.

That is all.