I love how men are quick to list what they want/don't want in a woman yet remain annoyingly oblivious to their own faults. However, that's another post. Looking through posts at Single Black Male (which I have a love/hate relationship with), the posts I liked were the lists of "quirks"--or qualities unique to a mate-seeking individual based on their own personalities, that other people may not understand. These can include wearing glasses, enjoying Anime, what have you. I thought about it, and here's my starting list of quirks that will make Lucky's heart swoon.
-Knowing a little about a lot.
This is a two-fold: keeping up with current events, from the highbrow news to pop culture is one. More importantly, and Top Chef is the man for this one: knowing so much random trivia it makes my head spin, allowing us to have drawn-out conversations about any- and everything. There are a few subjects with which I am totally fascinated. While my man doesn't have to share these same fascinations, I will find it absolutely endearing if he's a total nerd about, say, the Bermuda triangle, the history of football, and Howard Hughes.
If you're wondering, my favorite subjects are the Romanovs, Princess Diana, the Mafia (la Cosa Nostra!). Honorable mention: Titanic, ancient Egypt, and Greco-Roman mythology.
-An affinity for the child-like
Not to be confused with childish, ie, immature, overly messy, dependent on mothers, etc, a man who can appreciate the childlike makes my heart melt. A little silly, laughs at cute commercials, even stuff like remembering his favorite Power Ranger (and has valid reasons!). Ultimate bonus: if he has read (not just seen the movies, although that counts for something) Harry Potter. I've never met a man besides TC who has physically turned the pages of our beloved series. When I meet him, there will be a party in someone's pants, I guarantee.
-(Slightly) Imperfect Teeth
A tiny gap or a little crooked tooth in the front is so cute to me. Noticeably f*cked up or discolored chompers are icky, but a textbook so-called too-perfect smile along with perfect lips does nothing for me. I'm a sucker for a unique, lopsided grin.
-Left-handed
My dad's left-handed. My terrific buddy The Artist is left-handed. The Smoker was left-handed. Barack Obama is left-handed. Maybe it's the fact that it's kinda rare and weirdish. But it is absolutely adorable when a guy is so confident and by-the-book classic but writes with the "off" hand. Sigh.
-Hates the same reality TV that I hate
Ok. Shows like Rock of Love, for the Love of Ray J absolutely turn my stomach. I think they're misogynistic and dumb, catering to the idea of a man and his harem of women. The women on the show are just as bad. Maybe it's the one uptight part about me but I can't stand those shows, for comic relief or othewise. Just can't get with it. And any guy who doesn't at least see those problems, or worse, "kinda likes the idea of getting to choose from a bevy of [publicity-hounding, morally questionable] 'sexy' women" gives me a glimpse of his thoughts on women, sex, and relationships in general. It depends, I guess, on what he has to say, but more than anything those shows piss me off and I don't want to risk the chance of them clogging up my TiVo 'cause he just has to see who else smashed the homies.
-Has battle wounds
I love a guy with manly hands and scars from actually working sometime in his life. Or, oooh, playing sports. I don't bruise, and the few scars I've gotten totally disappear when they heal. True story: when I tripped and fell in a ditch in an unfortunate cheerleading-related incident and disgustingly scraped my knee, I thought FOR SURE it would leave a gnarly scar. But alas, you can barely see it now. Boo. Bottom line: I think scars are cool and since I can't seem to get any* I like them on guys. OMG another true story: this guy I went to high school with is a burn victim and years later I think his somewhat faded but still visible burns are kinda sexy...
I am so weird.
*Knock on wood that I don't, like, slice my arm in a freak shopping accident. Even though I got a burn on the top of my hand from the oven and I kinda like it.
I truly and literally could go on and on as I write, so I'll stop here. But I'm interested in you guys' quirky turn-ons.
Some final thoughts:
-I freaking love the Real Housewives of New Jersey. LOVE THEM. I love how they're all kinda tacky and too tan and really great moms, too.
-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THE FAMED CAVALIERS LOST HOLY CRAP CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY THIS YEAR!!!!!!
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Sunday Kind of Love
SCORE. Mom just returned from weekend trip to New York and I think she and my aunts may have relieved the city of Brooklyn (I KNOW) of its supply of knockoff luxury items. I woke up to a kitchen full of lovely various "designer" drool-worthy goodies. There were treasures for everybody, including a big purple Dolce & Gabbana purse and a sparkly gold makeup bag for me!
Can anyone guess what this is? Gross, right?
Give up? It's the product of a culinary experiment gone wildly, wildly wrong. Microwaved-to-mush chocolate chip cookies, to be exact. Yum, huh? DON'T JUDGE ME: I ate them. Just like that. I may have reached a new low. Or was it a new high? They were delicious!
Ooh Head Over Heels is on! About the woman who moves in with models and falls in love with a guy who works for the FBI! And the mafia and fashion industry is involved! And Freddie Prinze Jr. and Monica Potter are in it! I love this movie.
New purse, cookies, and a bad chick flick? Am currently in happy place.
Can anyone guess what this is? Gross, right?
Give up? It's the product of a culinary experiment gone wildly, wildly wrong. Microwaved-to-mush chocolate chip cookies, to be exact. Yum, huh? DON'T JUDGE ME: I ate them. Just like that. I may have reached a new low. Or was it a new high? They were delicious!
Ooh Head Over Heels is on! About the woman who moves in with models and falls in love with a guy who works for the FBI! And the mafia and fashion industry is involved! And Freddie Prinze Jr. and Monica Potter are in it! I love this movie.
New purse, cookies, and a bad chick flick? Am currently in happy place.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Family Drama and a Movie
We all have our childish sides. I, personally, like to indulge mind on a regular basis. Harry Potter, ice cream, Disney movies, anyone? Today I had the great idea to take Little Cousin, Little Sister and her friend to the movies. I wanted to see Night at the Museum 2 and Little Sister wanted to see, inexplicably, Dance Flick. Plus the local theater was $5 before 6pm and in this recession we have to take advantage of these things.
Chaos ensued the second my aunt and LC showed up, with their [demon] miniature pincher, I came downstairs to my irritated father toting a terrified and shaking Precious, muttering to me, "get him." Him, I discovered, wasn't my...mischievous cousin but instead, C, who apparently bit/scratched Precious. When we returned later my dad was still upset because Precious was hurt.
"It never fails," he er, yelled. "Every time that dog comes Precious gets hurt and everyone walks around like it's funny. No more. You tell [Aunt] or I will. That dog is not allowed in this house anymore." Scary. Little Sister and I are used to Dad's ranting when not directed to anyone, but it made an impressionable LC slightly upset. Which he took out on me on our car ride to drop him off. Oy vey. I felt bad for the kid. But it's not his fault.
C is one of those proverbial "small, yappy dogs" that no one likes. Except C has the additional bonus of being mean. Except my aunt thinks the dog is "just playing" and everyone's picking on her (C, and by extension, her) for no reason--cue long family drama backstory. Except C is actually annoying, and you can't outlaw a dog just for being overly annoying without seeming like a mean animal-hater. But like I said, C is annoying and slightly vicious; when she makes an appearance at family functions everyone's just kind of like "OH NO. [Aunt] brought C. Fucckkk!!!" Pets are like children; you can't discipline other people's children when the parent/owner's there because it implies that the parent/owner isn't doing their job correctly.
Anyway. I said all that not only to say that I was secretly glad that my dad put his foot down and banned C from our house, but that it's still weird to get in between/pass messages to fully grown family members when, in everyone's eyes, you're kind of still a kid. For example, when my dad said someone has to tell my aunt that C's not allowed, I was like, fuck, hopefully him or my mom** will do it. I hate having to contradict older family members or get involved in whatever issues they have amongst each other, you know? Because I usually side with whoever's right in the situation and in my family, that's usually my parents and my relatives tend to hold grudges/take things personally/blow things out of proportion so on the whole it's best that the "kids" (namely, me) not get involved. However, they tend to play the oh-so-mature "well, tell your mother I said this" or "call your aunt and tell her that" game.
**Mom had nothing to say because she's currently on a weekend trip to New York City with my aunts and cousin, probably on Canal Street buying all the knockoff bags and perfume she can carry. It's her first time to the city. I asked her if I could please please please come and she said no ma'am. Hmpf.
Le sigh. What was supposed to be a fun day at the movies was not quite as such. Let's just say Little Cousin is a dramatic handful. I enjoyed the movie, though. I really, really, want to visit the Smithsonian Museum. Every time a historical artifact came onscreen I was all "ooh Darth Vader! Look it's Bochelli's Venus! HAHAHA OMG that's the theme song from Titanic!" Such. A. Nerd. But whatevs I liked it. "Visit the Smithsonian" has been on my To-Do List of Life for like a year and now I want to go more than ever.
That list also includes seeing Kobe Bryant play live and writing a book. In case you were wondering.
Chaos ensued the second my aunt and LC showed up, with their [demon] miniature pincher, I came downstairs to my irritated father toting a terrified and shaking Precious, muttering to me, "get him." Him, I discovered, wasn't my...mischievous cousin but instead, C, who apparently bit/scratched Precious. When we returned later my dad was still upset because Precious was hurt.
"It never fails," he er, yelled. "Every time that dog comes Precious gets hurt and everyone walks around like it's funny. No more. You tell [Aunt] or I will. That dog is not allowed in this house anymore." Scary. Little Sister and I are used to Dad's ranting when not directed to anyone, but it made an impressionable LC slightly upset. Which he took out on me on our car ride to drop him off. Oy vey. I felt bad for the kid. But it's not his fault.
C is one of those proverbial "small, yappy dogs" that no one likes. Except C has the additional bonus of being mean. Except my aunt thinks the dog is "just playing" and everyone's picking on her (C, and by extension, her) for no reason--cue long family drama backstory. Except C is actually annoying, and you can't outlaw a dog just for being overly annoying without seeming like a mean animal-hater. But like I said, C is annoying and slightly vicious; when she makes an appearance at family functions everyone's just kind of like "OH NO. [Aunt] brought C. Fucckkk!!!" Pets are like children; you can't discipline other people's children when the parent/owner's there because it implies that the parent/owner isn't doing their job correctly.
Anyway. I said all that not only to say that I was secretly glad that my dad put his foot down and banned C from our house, but that it's still weird to get in between/pass messages to fully grown family members when, in everyone's eyes, you're kind of still a kid. For example, when my dad said someone has to tell my aunt that C's not allowed, I was like, fuck, hopefully him or my mom** will do it. I hate having to contradict older family members or get involved in whatever issues they have amongst each other, you know? Because I usually side with whoever's right in the situation and in my family, that's usually my parents and my relatives tend to hold grudges/take things personally/blow things out of proportion so on the whole it's best that the "kids" (namely, me) not get involved. However, they tend to play the oh-so-mature "well, tell your mother I said this" or "call your aunt and tell her that" game.
**Mom had nothing to say because she's currently on a weekend trip to New York City with my aunts and cousin, probably on Canal Street buying all the knockoff bags and perfume she can carry. It's her first time to the city. I asked her if I could please please please come and she said no ma'am. Hmpf.
Le sigh. What was supposed to be a fun day at the movies was not quite as such. Let's just say Little Cousin is a dramatic handful. I enjoyed the movie, though. I really, really, want to visit the Smithsonian Museum. Every time a historical artifact came onscreen I was all "ooh Darth Vader! Look it's Bochelli's Venus! HAHAHA OMG that's the theme song from Titanic!" Such. A. Nerd. But whatevs I liked it. "Visit the Smithsonian" has been on my To-Do List of Life for like a year and now I want to go more than ever.
That list also includes seeing Kobe Bryant play live and writing a book. In case you were wondering.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
HNT: How Cheeky!
Yes I'm a little late...don't be mad at me!
Gettin' ready to party. Happy HNT!
Fact: From my thumb to my pinky is the length of ten piano keys :)
Gettin' ready to party. Happy HNT!Fact: From my thumb to my pinky is the length of ten piano keys :)
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Dream Killah
Today I had probably the only day off I'll have in the foreseeable future and I spent it sleeping. Well, I was in my bed reflecting on life and the crazy-ass dream I had last night. It was a multi-part production.
First there was a wedding. It was mine. Except it was a little chaotic, as in unorganized and poorly-attended. And, horror of all horrors, THERE WAS NO GROOM. Not that the groom wasn't late or we couldn't find him, but HE CEASED TO EXIST. My DAD was up there with me. I'm cringing in humiliation even as I write this. So why was there a wedding? I have no idea.
Then, it was like a crossover episode with Grey's Anatomy, Izzie, Dr. Bailey, and George were there and there was a dress involved but the details escape me. And I was Izzie and Izzie was me. And also, I was trying to escape by going up and down endless stairwells.
Oh, and then I was in the front seat of a red sports car, well on my way to second base with an unidentified male. At a loss for words, I am.
I'm stuck on the "I had a wedding but no groom" part. What on earth could that possibly mean? WHY at my subconsious wedding, was there no groom? That better not be a sign of the future. Well, except for the making out in an expensive car business. That part we can keep.
First there was a wedding. It was mine. Except it was a little chaotic, as in unorganized and poorly-attended. And, horror of all horrors, THERE WAS NO GROOM. Not that the groom wasn't late or we couldn't find him, but HE CEASED TO EXIST. My DAD was up there with me. I'm cringing in humiliation even as I write this. So why was there a wedding? I have no idea.
Then, it was like a crossover episode with Grey's Anatomy, Izzie, Dr. Bailey, and George were there and there was a dress involved but the details escape me. And I was Izzie and Izzie was me. And also, I was trying to escape by going up and down endless stairwells.
Oh, and then I was in the front seat of a red sports car, well on my way to second base with an unidentified male. At a loss for words, I am.
I'm stuck on the "I had a wedding but no groom" part. What on earth could that possibly mean? WHY at my subconsious wedding, was there no groom? That better not be a sign of the future. Well, except for the making out in an expensive car business. That part we can keep.
Internship Update
Sports journalism is the ultimate fan experience. There have been sports reporters who hate sports and can be objective, and yes, you do get burned out sometimes, but for the most part, the access granted is unbelievable.
It's so weird that I can't quite explain my first day, maybe because nothing's really happened yet? My first day was Media Day, where the team does all their promos and goes over PR stuff, which was fun. The younger players were pretty nice, and some of the old heads were distant--typical veteran stuff, I guess. Everything was very open, it wasn't like a fan event, but everyone knew they had a job to. But it was also quite laid-back because everyone in their was supposed to be, you know? It's still weird having access to players and whatnot, because I'm still young and very much a fan, so guess it's good that I started off with a WNBA team or teams/sports that I don't really follow like that. If my first gig would be to interview, say, the Cavaliers or the Mavericks or, dear Jesus, the Pistons, I would straight-up faint. So it's all good. My job/internship is at the actual arena, so I could potentially see players/coaches/OMG HALL OF FAMERS THAT I'VE SEEN ON TV. Whew.
There were hardly any black folks, and no other interns from what I saw, which may be kinda lonely :( but we'll see. Also, there was no viable eye candy (double boo and hiss!) but the arena is a big place, there has got to be man-meat lurking around somewhere. And boy, oh boy, if some of the NBA players come back around preseason time and I'm still here, I may just flatline. I'm gonna say it here and now: it's my goal to meet/be in the vicinity of an NBA player (from the home team) before I go back to school. *shiver*
Also, I interviewed for another internship with a PR firm yesterday, and she offered me the position on the spot. Since I want to go into media relations, this gig will be great for me, and I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. But. Both of these internships are unpaid. In this recession, I get it, but...I am free labor. Yes, these gigs will help me in the long run, but right now we are in the short run. The short, unpaid run. Le sigh. We'll see what both of these gigs hold. Whenever I first start a job/internship I find myself overwhelmed with the responsibility. Like, the excitement is overshadowed by the fear I'll fuck up. But hopefully I won't. Right? Right? Guys?
For serious, sometimes I still feel like a little kid playing with the grownups, even though they all take me seriously, it's like I still can't take myself seriously, you know? I still can't believe that people think I do good enough work to offer me these gigs. It's weird when your dreams start to come true.
Sidenote: I'm watching Maxim's Hot 100 List for the zillionth time and Marisa Miller is just... average to me. I mean she's pretty but not the hottest Victoria's Secret Angel by far. Just sayin'.
It's so weird that I can't quite explain my first day, maybe because nothing's really happened yet? My first day was Media Day, where the team does all their promos and goes over PR stuff, which was fun. The younger players were pretty nice, and some of the old heads were distant--typical veteran stuff, I guess. Everything was very open, it wasn't like a fan event, but everyone knew they had a job to. But it was also quite laid-back because everyone in their was supposed to be, you know? It's still weird having access to players and whatnot, because I'm still young and very much a fan, so guess it's good that I started off with a WNBA team or teams/sports that I don't really follow like that. If my first gig would be to interview, say, the Cavaliers or the Mavericks or, dear Jesus, the Pistons, I would straight-up faint. So it's all good. My job/internship is at the actual arena, so I could potentially see players/coaches/OMG HALL OF FAMERS THAT I'VE SEEN ON TV. Whew.
There were hardly any black folks, and no other interns from what I saw, which may be kinda lonely :( but we'll see. Also, there was no viable eye candy (double boo and hiss!) but the arena is a big place, there has got to be man-meat lurking around somewhere. And boy, oh boy, if some of the NBA players come back around preseason time and I'm still here, I may just flatline. I'm gonna say it here and now: it's my goal to meet/be in the vicinity of an NBA player (from the home team) before I go back to school. *shiver*
Also, I interviewed for another internship with a PR firm yesterday, and she offered me the position on the spot. Since I want to go into media relations, this gig will be great for me, and I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. But. Both of these internships are unpaid. In this recession, I get it, but...I am free labor. Yes, these gigs will help me in the long run, but right now we are in the short run. The short, unpaid run. Le sigh. We'll see what both of these gigs hold. Whenever I first start a job/internship I find myself overwhelmed with the responsibility. Like, the excitement is overshadowed by the fear I'll fuck up. But hopefully I won't. Right? Right? Guys?
For serious, sometimes I still feel like a little kid playing with the grownups, even though they all take me seriously, it's like I still can't take myself seriously, you know? I still can't believe that people think I do good enough work to offer me these gigs. It's weird when your dreams start to come true.
Sidenote: I'm watching Maxim's Hot 100 List for the zillionth time and Marisa Miller is just... average to me. I mean she's pretty but not the hottest Victoria's Secret Angel by far. Just sayin'.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Summer's Begun
I start my internship with a WNBA team tomorrow. The first day always makes me nervous, I like an established routine, where I know where the vending machine is, folks aren't monitoring me, and most importantly I've made friends with my fellow interns. Even though at my last one the other two interns were whack...I mean, we barely saw each other and the guy intern was always trying to outdo/outwork me but I ended up being recommended for the freelancing job and everyone liked me so there. Anyway. But during the summer at TV Station the other interns were fabulous, so hopefully this will be the same way. It's Media Day, which will be hectic but fun, oh Lord I really can't think about it because I really will be nervous and unable to sleep. So wish me luck.
PS: I had given up on Grey's Anatomy right around the time Izzie started having make-believe sex with Denny, but I started feeling bad and re-watched all the episodes after that, and OMFG. When I finally watched the season finale, I cried. At the kitchen table, hunched over my laptop. It was amazing. Of course now that means I have to stew the whole summer and wait for season six to begin. Which, despite my earlier efforts, I will be watching.
PPS: NOT SO BIG AND BAD NOW, HUH, CELTICS?!?! BWAH HAH HAHHHH!!!! I'm still mad that Larry Bird stole the ball, if you can't tell. Even though I wasn't exactly alive at the time.
PS: I had given up on Grey's Anatomy right around the time Izzie started having make-believe sex with Denny, but I started feeling bad and re-watched all the episodes after that, and OMFG. When I finally watched the season finale, I cried. At the kitchen table, hunched over my laptop. It was amazing. Of course now that means I have to stew the whole summer and wait for season six to begin. Which, despite my earlier efforts, I will be watching.
PPS: NOT SO BIG AND BAD NOW, HUH, CELTICS?!?! BWAH HAH HAHHHH!!!! I'm still mad that Larry Bird stole the ball, if you can't tell. Even though I wasn't exactly alive at the time.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
HNT: Smooches
My very first HNT! I might get freaked out and take it down, so enjoy it while it lasts, y'all...
Obligatory Women's Lib Rant
It's no secret that everybody is all over Drake aka Wheelchair Jimmy (not that I ever watched Degrassi. I SWEAR. I would tell you if I did, honest) as a rapper, and some of his music is cool.** It took a minute to separate this version of him with what was portrayed on The N, but his songs are quite catchy and he's an admirable rapper.
**Ok it is really good, if you can look past the budding misogyny. "A Night Off" and "Man of the Year" are my favorites so far.
However.
It seems that we have already started with the "bitches and hoes" mentality. He's throwing those adjectives around a little too freely for my liking. Even stuff like "Baby you my everything/other hoes ain't never on it" which, ok, you called me "baby" but why does my homegirl gotta be a hoe? It just leaves a sour taste in my mouth (ear?) after hearing those words used as legitimate words to describe a female. Because there are bitches out there, don't get me wrong. I interact with many on a daily basis.
I guess we didn't expect Drake to come out raunchy and/or profane which makes it sting a little more, but I mean, if he really wanted to be "revolutionary" he could have started by coming up with a better way to describe women.
There's a bigger picture here. Not only do men need to better, but women need to demand better. Take this Film Screening Guy situation. Men only do what they can get away with as many times as they can get away with it. Obviously, his less-than-chivalrous method of courting has gotten him sex before, to the point where he doesn't know how to act when a standards-having female like myself rebuts with, "I need you to come better than that if you want me to entertain you, let alone consider sleeping with you." But it could be argued that those other women were desperate because there aren't that many dateable men around. Which I secretly kind of understand but that doesn't make it ok for anyone involved. Because those desperate women are making it hard for ME.
I mean, other hardworking, slightly more modest women. Like myself.
**Ok it is really good, if you can look past the budding misogyny. "A Night Off" and "Man of the Year" are my favorites so far.
However.
It seems that we have already started with the "bitches and hoes" mentality. He's throwing those adjectives around a little too freely for my liking. Even stuff like "Baby you my everything/other hoes ain't never on it" which, ok, you called me "baby" but why does my homegirl gotta be a hoe? It just leaves a sour taste in my mouth (ear?) after hearing those words used as legitimate words to describe a female. Because there are bitches out there, don't get me wrong. I interact with many on a daily basis.
I guess we didn't expect Drake to come out raunchy and/or profane which makes it sting a little more, but I mean, if he really wanted to be "revolutionary" he could have started by coming up with a better way to describe women.
There's a bigger picture here. Not only do men need to better, but women need to demand better. Take this Film Screening Guy situation. Men only do what they can get away with as many times as they can get away with it. Obviously, his less-than-chivalrous method of courting has gotten him sex before, to the point where he doesn't know how to act when a standards-having female like myself rebuts with, "I need you to come better than that if you want me to entertain you, let alone consider sleeping with you." But it could be argued that those other women were desperate because there aren't that many dateable men around. Which I secretly kind of understand but that doesn't make it ok for anyone involved. Because those desperate women are making it hard for ME.
I mean, other hardworking, slightly more modest women. Like myself.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
The Yahoo! Reign of Terror Continues
My dear, dear Italian spaghetti noodle of lurrrrve, Vittoria, has already expressed her dismay at Yahoo!* and their so-called dating advice. I agreed with--and chortled at--most of V's claims, and when I came across this [gag-worthy] gem of an article, I immediately imagined her response as "Are you effing kidding me?!?!:
#5: Send Him the Diary Entry You Wrote After Your First Date -- or Write One Now
#5: Send Him the Diary Entry You Wrote After Your First Date -- or Write One Now
One of the best things about having a girlfriend is reminiscing about what you thought about each other in the beginning of your relationship. Reliving all of the uncertainty and anxiety is strangely exhilarating. I can't think of a better anniversary present than a sanctioned peek into the documented thoughts of someone I care about.
Um. No. No ma'am. Well, at the very least proceed with extreme caution. If you do this even a minute too early, and he gets an unfiltered look at how googly-eyed you were over him in the beginning, HE WILL RUN SCREAMING FOR THE HILLS.
Trust me on this.
*That exclamation point was meant to be sarcastic, by the way.
Um. No. No ma'am. Well, at the very least proceed with extreme caution. If you do this even a minute too early, and he gets an unfiltered look at how googly-eyed you were over him in the beginning, HE WILL RUN SCREAMING FOR THE HILLS.
Trust me on this.
*That exclamation point was meant to be sarcastic, by the way.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Dating Vernacular
To give (gave, giv⋅en, giv⋅ing; verb): To show one's ass, to employ tactics such as: rudeness, skewed logic, over-the-top shenanigans, or reverse psychology in a ploy to get a point across or get something accomplished, usually to zero avail. Can result in the giver looking extremely dumb and uncooperative.
Used in a sentence: "Film Screening Guy just texted me looking for sex and he absolutely GAVE."
Used in a sentence: "Film Screening Guy just texted me looking for sex and he absolutely GAVE."
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Late Start
So, yes. This would be the part of the day where I get out of bed and head for my friendly neighborhood Walgreen's, marking my first and only venture outside of the home for today.
I think I may devote a new tag called "Double Post" given my penchant for remembering random things to say after and only after that day's post has been completed.
I think I may devote a new tag called "Double Post" given my penchant for remembering random things to say after and only after that day's post has been completed.
My Shindig
If I were to ever have a swanky yet laid-back dinner party in which I could invite anyone, I would have to have two: one for the older more sophisticated people and the other for the young partiers like myself. Or hell, maybe one big one. Amy listed her dinner guests, and here's mine. I'd invite my own friends, of course, and no entourages allowed!
They Seem Fun:
1. B Scott.
2. Bethenny from Real Housewives of NYC (even though she'd probably leave early as there's no one for her to talk to)
3. William Sledd (ditto. Well, maybe he and B. Scott would chat)
4. Day 26 and the group formerly known as Danity Kane
5. Dwight Howard (he seems funny)
6. Amy Winehouse
7. Travis from Gym Class Heroes
8. Keri Hilson
9. the cast of Gossip Girl (but I don't know why, I just would)
10. Oprah (she probably wouldn't come but I'd be remiss not to invite her. I'd wedge her in between me and B. Scott at dinner)
11. Amy and Vixen Chick (because I like, love them)
Most Certainly Not Invited
1. Kyle from College Hill: Being gay does not give you license to be venomous without substantial provocation.
2. P. Diddy: he does too much, plus tension between him and Day 26/DK would kill the vibe
3. anyone associated with the Kardashians: and I know they'd try to sneak in, too...
4. Lil' Wayne: well, maybe if he popped in for a sec then left. Trouble follows him.
Decor: Bestey Johnson meets Kimora Lee Simmons. See ya there!
They Seem Fun:
1. B Scott.
2. Bethenny from Real Housewives of NYC (even though she'd probably leave early as there's no one for her to talk to)
3. William Sledd (ditto. Well, maybe he and B. Scott would chat)
4. Day 26 and the group formerly known as Danity Kane
5. Dwight Howard (he seems funny)
6. Amy Winehouse
7. Travis from Gym Class Heroes
8. Keri Hilson
9. the cast of Gossip Girl (but I don't know why, I just would)
10. Oprah (she probably wouldn't come but I'd be remiss not to invite her. I'd wedge her in between me and B. Scott at dinner)
11. Amy and Vixen Chick (because I like, love them)
Most Certainly Not Invited
1. Kyle from College Hill: Being gay does not give you license to be venomous without substantial provocation.
2. P. Diddy: he does too much, plus tension between him and Day 26/DK would kill the vibe
3. anyone associated with the Kardashians: and I know they'd try to sneak in, too...
4. Lil' Wayne: well, maybe if he popped in for a sec then left. Trouble follows him.
Decor: Bestey Johnson meets Kimora Lee Simmons. See ya there!
Move Over, Hillary
Be very afraid, I've just been promoted :) on The Paper. My official title is "Associate Managing Editor"--of an award-winning college, student-ran publication. I'm third, well, 2.5th in-command and, if you'll allow me to brag for just a mo', the highest-ranking female on staff in The Paper's 85 years of existence.
I am woman.
Oh, and another thing: The Paper is the publication of an all-male HBCU, even though it covers events of the surrounding institutions as well. I go to the unofficial "sister school."*
*Maintaining anonymity is haaaaard. My school/these schools are relatively known**, so I can't give away too much lest my jig be up...gets up...be's up? Anyway. My sham of an explanation probably won't sense if you don't know how the said schools operate, but just know that I'm kind of a big deal :)
**Oh, my God. I sound SO pretentious. Ignore me. Bear with me. Forgive me. Y'all know I'd never intentionally stoop so low.
And you know what's funny? Well two things:
1. In the midst of basking in my awesomeness two days ago I was also dealing with the trite comeback attempts of Film Screening Guy, who continues to make it obviously--borderline rudely--clear that he has no interest in my life other than procuring my panties. During almost the entire pitiful (on his end, anyway) conversation I was just thinking, "This totally great amazing thing that I worked my ass off for for three years finally happened to me and this guy has no idea or remote interest.*** Volumes have been spoken."
***Actually, Mr. GQ was not exactly the picture of enthusiasm either when I told him my good news. Which actually stung a little. Maybe he was distracted: we were on the freeway. A lesson in humility, perhaps? But anyway.
2. I love how the movies that give you the option of "Theatrical Version" or "Extended Version" are the ones that went straight-to-DVD and weren't actually in theaters.
I am woman.
Oh, and another thing: The Paper is the publication of an all-male HBCU, even though it covers events of the surrounding institutions as well. I go to the unofficial "sister school."*
*Maintaining anonymity is haaaaard. My school/these schools are relatively known**, so I can't give away too much lest my jig be up...gets up...be's up? Anyway. My sham of an explanation probably won't sense if you don't know how the said schools operate, but just know that I'm kind of a big deal :)
**Oh, my God. I sound SO pretentious. Ignore me. Bear with me. Forgive me. Y'all know I'd never intentionally stoop so low.
And you know what's funny? Well two things:
1. In the midst of basking in my awesomeness two days ago I was also dealing with the trite comeback attempts of Film Screening Guy, who continues to make it obviously--borderline rudely--clear that he has no interest in my life other than procuring my panties. During almost the entire pitiful (on his end, anyway) conversation I was just thinking, "This totally great amazing thing that I worked my ass off for for three years finally happened to me and this guy has no idea or remote interest.*** Volumes have been spoken."
***Actually, Mr. GQ was not exactly the picture of enthusiasm either when I told him my good news. Which actually stung a little. Maybe he was distracted: we were on the freeway. A lesson in humility, perhaps? But anyway.
2. I love how the movies that give you the option of "Theatrical Version" or "Extended Version" are the ones that went straight-to-DVD and weren't actually in theaters.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Greatest City in the World
I want to go back to New York City so badly, it's killing me. We went on spring break our freshman year. It was so cold! But I loved it, it was the most beautiful city I've ever been to.
More than that, though, I think I want want New York always seems to represent. In the middle of its grit, it's meanness, it's rawness, the city has a wildness. A freedom. A dirty, carefree glamour that I crave and that I fear only can be found in my dreams about the city that never sleeps. I'm scared that my time is running out. I'm young, so young. In years and in the sense that I have not done anything wild or impulsive or gloriously freeing. The fact that college is almost over, though, makes me feel old. I want a well-lived life and I often feel like it's passing me by. I think too much, analyze, calculate, manipulate (in a cautious way, not a vindictive one) and it has kept me safe for 20 years. But in the comfort of that safety lies boredom and, I'm afraid one day, resentment and unhappiness--my ultimate fear.
I don't want to be bored, or scared. It's just life, right?
More than that, though, I think I want want New York always seems to represent. In the middle of its grit, it's meanness, it's rawness, the city has a wildness. A freedom. A dirty, carefree glamour that I crave and that I fear only can be found in my dreams about the city that never sleeps. I'm scared that my time is running out. I'm young, so young. In years and in the sense that I have not done anything wild or impulsive or gloriously freeing. The fact that college is almost over, though, makes me feel old. I want a well-lived life and I often feel like it's passing me by. I think too much, analyze, calculate, manipulate (in a cautious way, not a vindictive one) and it has kept me safe for 20 years. But in the comfort of that safety lies boredom and, I'm afraid one day, resentment and unhappiness--my ultimate fear.
I don't want to be bored, or scared. It's just life, right?
Monday, May 4, 2009
Wardrobe Malfunctions
Let's be drama-free for an evening (yeah, right!).
Today I was inspired upon leaving school to go to Whole Foods Market. Flowers were blooming and there were huge oranges on sale, with cut-up slices for shoppers to taste. At first, I didn't want to try one (swine flu and all...what? That's what I honestly thought for a split second. Lame, I know), but I'm glad I did because they were quite succulent. I meant to sneak another one but I forgot.
Anyway, I went in for a mango. One mango. I came out with peach Tazo tea, potato chips, and this stuff called some Almond Glow Jasmine Skin Lotion, which is actually more like oil. I'm about to hop in the shower and try it, to see if I can jump on the "green" beauty train.
Omg, I forgot. I had business to take care of at school today which called for "business professional" which I am quite good at, so I pulled out this button-down I'd actually never worn before. 'Twas kinda tight but I figured it would loosen up before I left the house. Um, no ma'am. I leaned down to put my shoe on, and a button popped off! I blamed it on the cheapness of the shirt and kept it moving. Before long, all of my subsequent movements send a button flying through the air! It was actually humbling. And by humbling I mean vaguely mortifying, cartoonish shenanigans. Missing half the buttons on Shirt #1 yet determined to keep my original aesthetic, I dug in the closet and found the same shirt in a different color. I put it on and walked towards the mirror...and a button popped off. This time I didn't wait, and pulled out Shirt #3, a last, last, last manuever. Or so I thought. THIS stupid shirt must have been in my room all day, observing and chuckling, because it was missing a button BEFORE I put it on, which I found out seconds later. I was so, so over it.
A slinky leopard-print blouse saved my life and my sanity. Leopard is just that mighty.
Today I was inspired upon leaving school to go to Whole Foods Market. Flowers were blooming and there were huge oranges on sale, with cut-up slices for shoppers to taste. At first, I didn't want to try one (swine flu and all...what? That's what I honestly thought for a split second. Lame, I know), but I'm glad I did because they were quite succulent. I meant to sneak another one but I forgot.
Anyway, I went in for a mango. One mango. I came out with peach Tazo tea, potato chips, and this stuff called some Almond Glow Jasmine Skin Lotion, which is actually more like oil. I'm about to hop in the shower and try it, to see if I can jump on the "green" beauty train.
Omg, I forgot. I had business to take care of at school today which called for "business professional" which I am quite good at, so I pulled out this button-down I'd actually never worn before. 'Twas kinda tight but I figured it would loosen up before I left the house. Um, no ma'am. I leaned down to put my shoe on, and a button popped off! I blamed it on the cheapness of the shirt and kept it moving. Before long, all of my subsequent movements send a button flying through the air! It was actually humbling. And by humbling I mean vaguely mortifying, cartoonish shenanigans. Missing half the buttons on Shirt #1 yet determined to keep my original aesthetic, I dug in the closet and found the same shirt in a different color. I put it on and walked towards the mirror...and a button popped off. This time I didn't wait, and pulled out Shirt #3, a last, last, last manuever. Or so I thought. THIS stupid shirt must have been in my room all day, observing and chuckling, because it was missing a button BEFORE I put it on, which I found out seconds later. I was so, so over it.
A slinky leopard-print blouse saved my life and my sanity. Leopard is just that mighty.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Sexy Things Meme
Once again, I was tagged by the delightful Amy to fill out this "Sexy Things" questionairre. Eesh, this may be kind of hard, I am such a nerd...
1. My lips
Get your minds out of the gutter, dirty birdies! I have been blessed with a nice full pucker, and it comes in handy because most of the time, I'm smiling or laughing. This also gives me a reason to stock up on my favorite lip glosses, because I figure if something takes up half your face, it should look nice and be sparkly.
Preserving the sexy. I adore being a girl!
2. My size
I am considered tall--5'7, and athletically curvy. I have dreamt of being petite and compact but it is just not in the cards. Instead, I often feel like it's just...a lot of body for one person, you know? I'm broad-shouldered and long-legged, and combined with high heels and big hair I can feel tranny-like.
I had a point.
My body is strong and rarely lets me down. When I look in the mirror, I see more or less a classic woman's shape, no scrawny hips or peeking ribs here. And I love it.
3. My ears
My ears are ridiculously tiny. Guys think they are cute. Cute equals sexy. Ergo, my ears are sexy.
4. My disposition
Follow me here. From what I understand, men like fairly low-maintenance, natural beauty. Haphazard, rumpled, just woke up-sexy. Luckily, that's my specialty. I like to straddle the line with my clothes to my laid-back, yet flirty demeanor. My aesthetic is girl next door with a hint of sex appeal. It's fun and leaves room to experiment, in case one day I'm feeling casual and the next glamorous, hopefully it comes off as approachable!
Honorable mention: My legs
Ok, ok, must give credit where credit is due, they are a big weapon in my arsenal. I just measured them: 39.5 inches long. Out of a total 67 inches. You do the math. Thanks to genetics, dancing, cheerleading, and all-around hyperactivity, my legs get me where I need to go and turn a few heads in the process :)
I'm blushing!
1. My lips
Get your minds out of the gutter, dirty birdies! I have been blessed with a nice full pucker, and it comes in handy because most of the time, I'm smiling or laughing. This also gives me a reason to stock up on my favorite lip glosses, because I figure if something takes up half your face, it should look nice and be sparkly.
Preserving the sexy. I adore being a girl!2. My size
I am considered tall--5'7, and athletically curvy. I have dreamt of being petite and compact but it is just not in the cards. Instead, I often feel like it's just...a lot of body for one person, you know? I'm broad-shouldered and long-legged, and combined with high heels and big hair I can feel tranny-like.
I had a point.
My body is strong and rarely lets me down. When I look in the mirror, I see more or less a classic woman's shape, no scrawny hips or peeking ribs here. And I love it.
3. My ears
My ears are ridiculously tiny. Guys think they are cute. Cute equals sexy. Ergo, my ears are sexy.
4. My disposition
Follow me here. From what I understand, men like fairly low-maintenance, natural beauty. Haphazard, rumpled, just woke up-sexy. Luckily, that's my specialty. I like to straddle the line with my clothes to my laid-back, yet flirty demeanor. My aesthetic is girl next door with a hint of sex appeal. It's fun and leaves room to experiment, in case one day I'm feeling casual and the next glamorous, hopefully it comes off as approachable!
Honorable mention: My legs
Ok, ok, must give credit where credit is due, they are a big weapon in my arsenal. I just measured them: 39.5 inches long. Out of a total 67 inches. You do the math. Thanks to genetics, dancing, cheerleading, and all-around hyperactivity, my legs get me where I need to go and turn a few heads in the process :)
I'm blushing!
Friday, May 1, 2009
Final Thoughts
Have been the participant in the World's Most Unproductive Day. I'm going out tonight, though, if that counts as doing something. Cali Girl and Ms. Politics came over, though; always a treat.
I got my hair done last night and told Hairstylist B that I was having man troubles. "Let's talk," she chirped. "Sit in my chair." The first words out of my mouth were, "Ok so I met this guy on Friday..." and the first words out of hers were "And you're having problems already?" I love Hairstylist B; a light bulb went off when she said that. a) I am having problems, not him. Film Screening Guy isn't thinking about me, so why am I still letting him occupy brain matter? 2) and more importantly, this is not fun anymore, and at this rate when men stop being fun and start becoming work, that's a wrap.
This is the last mention of this affair, I swear, but once again, it sucks because he was cute and tall and played the guitar but I mean, that could have all been a ploy to get into my pants, men have said and done crazy things when faced with the prospect of the P(ussy). Besides, I don't know that much about him; we hadn't gotten to the interesting stuff yet, so there's not much to miss. As for him, I mean, he knows that my legs look awesome in short things, that I flirt a lot, and love tequila, but he doesn't know that I have an Amy Winehouse wig in my closet, eat pretzels with every meal, like bellydancing, or hoard romance novels under my bed.
And that's the good stuff.
PS--what's on your nightstand? I have two night tables. The one on the side I sleep on has a lamp, a digital clock, a birthday card from my family, meds and water, a pen, hair clip, Carol's Daughter body cream, Rosebud lip balm, an amber cube that says, "give thanks," and a candle. The other one has a fan, iPod speakers, another candle, and candy :)
Just curious.
I got my hair done last night and told Hairstylist B that I was having man troubles. "Let's talk," she chirped. "Sit in my chair." The first words out of my mouth were, "Ok so I met this guy on Friday..." and the first words out of hers were "And you're having problems already?" I love Hairstylist B; a light bulb went off when she said that. a) I am having problems, not him. Film Screening Guy isn't thinking about me, so why am I still letting him occupy brain matter? 2) and more importantly, this is not fun anymore, and at this rate when men stop being fun and start becoming work, that's a wrap.
This is the last mention of this affair, I swear, but once again, it sucks because he was cute and tall and played the guitar but I mean, that could have all been a ploy to get into my pants, men have said and done crazy things when faced with the prospect of the P(ussy). Besides, I don't know that much about him; we hadn't gotten to the interesting stuff yet, so there's not much to miss. As for him, I mean, he knows that my legs look awesome in short things, that I flirt a lot, and love tequila, but he doesn't know that I have an Amy Winehouse wig in my closet, eat pretzels with every meal, like bellydancing, or hoard romance novels under my bed.
And that's the good stuff.
PS--what's on your nightstand? I have two night tables. The one on the side I sleep on has a lamp, a digital clock, a birthday card from my family, meds and water, a pen, hair clip, Carol's Daughter body cream, Rosebud lip balm, an amber cube that says, "give thanks," and a candle. The other one has a fan, iPod speakers, another candle, and candy :)
Just curious.
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