The Girl in the Glasses

Summer Thoughts

2010-05-23T01:04:00.003-04:00

So apparently posting every month is my thing. Let's just go with it. Plus it's summertime so I will be around.

First things first: I graduated college! I officially have a Bachelor of the Arts degree in English. My family came to town and I wore a white dress and kissed my friends goodbye.

Goodness I have so much to tell you people!

1. Went to Puerto Rico for spring break in March and it was wonderful. So much better than Myrtle Beach, in that I did not get rip-roaring drunk and cause an embarrassing scene. But I lost my glasses in the ocean.

2. I got two tattoos (not while in Puerto Rico, God no). The first one was before the trip; it's on the back of my right shoulder and says "womanist." It took 15 minutes. Now the second one was a real bitch. It says, "I am the Dream and the Hope of the slave" broken down into three lines on the back of my left shoulder. This one HURT. Like, really. But the tattoo artist was so, so sexy. And smart and he had muscles and even though he was inflicting pain on my poor skin, the way he touched me was...whoo. Anyway. All the pain was worth it because my new art is wonderful. Well, until my mother found it.

3. Que and I had our first fight and it was all long text messages that admitted my feelings for him (me) and yelling over the phone (both of us) and pretending like it never happened the next day at work (him). The thing about us being so close is that we bicker so much that the issue never sticks. But when we had this real, nasty fight I was hoping to actually resolve it but he brushed it off so I did the same. Which was easier, I guess, to just resolve to not blow stuff out of proportion and, oh whatever. I was jealous and he was apathetic.

And then he got hurt. He hurt his back something terrible and I feel awful because he's leaving for a job in a whole 'nother state soon and there's just so much I want to say to him but I don't want to be a bother. To him, I really could be just a co-worker that was a good time in bed and made him laugh a lot. I'm afraid closure will probably not be an option on this one. ~~But barring all that I am horny and going from regular nookie to none at all is NOT FAIR.~~

4. I started a new internship with another WNBA team. So far, it's pretty fun, but I vow, on my honor, that this will be my last unpaid position. I am sick of being a minion, or a fake-employee. I want a real job ~~and subordinates.~~

Lastly, I need a library in Southern City, seeing as I'm relocating here. When I'm at home I spend half my summer trolling the aisles at the library less than a mile away from my house. The ones near my place here are awful. It's a travesty. How are kids going to become bookworms with facilities like these? Whenever I have to go to them I want to cry. Surely there have got to be better options. I will make that my project. Along with finding a new man to fool around with and inevitable develop unrequited feelings for!

In Which I Am Delusional

2010-04-20T00:42:00.004-04:00

You don't want to hear about the mess I made of things with me and Que. He's still around but...that's a tale for another time. Maybe.

Not to keep harping on this but where is my man? Seriously, where is he? I have never had a boyfriend, never been on a date, never held somebody's hand as we walked down the street. What thee fuck. I mean I guess I haven't needed a man for the past 21 years but I sure as hell have wanted one. I'm used to not having one obviously but sometimes in the dark, quiet corners of the night I wonder where my love is. Every time I console myself into thinking I'll be fine on my own I get a glimmer of hope, a wisp of a man's attentions and he says all the right things and I think, holy shit, maybe I'm not doomed! But then he reveals his true colors and I sink back down again and the walls come back up.

I think I'm not attractive. Not ugly but literally not able to attract. Que says (in a judgy and kind of condescending tone of someone who's never had a problem meeting women) that it's my fault that I keep attracting guys who just want to have sex with me and I don't present the right package and I should flirt more because he always gets the girls that he wants by flirting with them. Is that in ANY way helpful to tell someone who's borderline socially retarded and introverted? That's about as useful as telling an anorexic "to just eat something already." But he succeeds in making me feel bad about myself because, well, he has a harem so it must be me, right? I just have to remember that he's attracted to a certain type of woman and I am certainly not her and dating advice is rarely general. I guess I just have to be patient--God hasn't seen fit to put a man in my life, apparently. Y'all know patience isn't my strong suit...and it especially kind of stings hearing Que say those things because it's him. He was supposed to be the one who wanted me back. He certainly acted like he did, in the beginning, anyway, even before the sex (and I use the term "sex" loosely, for the sake of brevity), but I guess it was all lip service or he's a really good actor. He's very good at avoiding the tough stuff. We will literally talk all the way to the point of:

Me: "I wouldn't mind being your girlfriend. All you have to do is ask." Him: "But would you cook sometimes?" Me: "I'll try." Him: *crickets*

And that will be that. What am I supposed to get from that conversation? And he'll be the one to bring it up! If I really didn't think that we would make an awesome team and have so much fun together then I'd leave it at that. But I think we would. And call me crazy but I think he knows it too.

Or maybe I am just delusional and like torture...

The Mistake I Wasn't Supposed to Make

2010-03-16T15:07:00.000-04:00

You lot were right about the whole friends-with-benefits thing. It isn't just happy naked times. Somewhere along the lines I developed feelings for this young man. This isn't what I bargained for! I don't know if I am just transferring the lust into a different part of my brain that feels actual emotion, but, yeah. I want him all to myself, or at least acknowledge that it's not just physical. Because we were friends at first. And now we're lovers (how cliche). And now I'm past kicking him out in the light of day but find myself wanting to hang on a little longer. He's weird. He says he wants one girl. We drop "what if we were together as a couple" hints all the time. I want to hide my feelings but somehow make him confess his. Needless to say, THIS SUCKS. Somebody hold me...

What Happens After

2010-01-31T17:28:00.005-05:00

My word.

The Que and I still have been rendezvous-ing all over the place. Well, all over my bed. We're no closer to anything resembling a real relationship, but at this point, we're using each other for our bodies, ha. It's quite liberating, actually. I think. Whatever we're doing is much better than any other flings I've had--if only for the fact that this one comes with nakedness and such. And no manipulative mind games. The whole "he has a whole lot of other women" trope is still here, though. But both (all four?) of my eyes are open, and his are too, so I'm praying we avoid any nasty collisions.

You know what sucks, though? When he rolls over and falls asleep afterward. I've been reading women's magazines for the better part of 10 years so I get that it's chemical ("a man thing" if you will) that I shouldn't take personally. But how come men get the "crash after orgasm" chemical and women get the simulated sensation of love/closeness towards the person from whence said orgasm came? Even if he is snoring. I try not to fret over it. I usually turn on "The Office" until my head ~~mmmm, and my body~~ mellow out. And um, there's not really any cuddling. Seriously, he sleeps like a log. That takes up a lot of space in what I previously thought was a big bed.

Is that healthy? I'd be interested to know what folks do after intercourse or intercourse-like activities. During the actual activities, though? I've got that covered. COVERED, IT IS.

A Numbers Game

2010-01-18T23:49:00.015-05:00

"How many times did you come?"

He wanted to know. Truthfully, he'd lost count of how many times he felt her shudder, heard her scream.

"You came while we were first kissing, didn't you?" She nodded yes.

She'd straddled him as their mouths meshed, their tongues tangled. She squirmed in his arms as he suckled her neck just as she needed. He pressed harder and lashed his tongue firmer the way she begged him to. He didn't stop his quest, even when her limbs tightened around him in her first strained release.

That fire of hers smolders so close to the surface, he thought. Just kissing her neck can make her come.

He remembered almost erupting himself when she broke free to divest herself of her clothing: the tight shirt and tiny shorts that barely concealed her ass and the longest pair of legs he'd ever seen.

His eyes darkened as he pulled off her shorts, noticing the finery underneath.

"Stand up," he motioned, dragging her in front of him to stare at her magnificence. She turned slowly at his command. He gazed at chocolate-drop breasts resting enticingly in black lace, and when her back faced him, he reached out and filled his hands with her delectable ass, peeking out from matching panties.

He groaned as she mounted him once more, her flimsy lingerie the only barrier from his granite manhood. She whimpered, aroused by the sensation as he assaulted her throat again and began moving his mouth downward. Teasingly, she pulled off her bra slowly and deliberately. He wanted to ravage her on the spot. Tortured, he contented himself with feasting on her perfect breasts, one, then the other, attuned to her reaction to his attentions. Her moans grew louder, her body undulated harder and faster, and she arched into his mouth against the relentless tongue that coated her aching peaks.

He continued his feast even as she wailed his name in climax.

But he hadn't gotten his fill of her, he recalled, amazed. When would he?

She clutched at his broad shoulders, her cries softening into sighs. When she giggled into his neck, he broke free and eased her onto her back.

"Can I say that I'm nervous?" she asked timidly as he descended to his knees. He tossed her drawers to the floor.

"No."

With a smirk, he kissed her stomach. A soft protest died on her lips as he dipped his head to finally devour her as he wanted...

She would come again.

When Times Were Simpler

2010-01-18T22:31:00.005-05:00

I can't wait to get away from you
Unsurprisingly you hate me too
We only communicate when we need to fight
But we are best friends...right?

You're too good at pretending you don't care
There's enough resentment in the air
Now you don't want me in the flat
When you’re home at night
But we're best friends right?

You’re Stephanie and I'm Paulette
You know what all my faces mean
And it's easy to smoke it up, forget
Everything that happened in between

Nicky’s right when he says I can't win
So I don't wanna tell you anything
I can't even think about
How you feel inside
But we are best friends, right?

I don't like the way you say my name
You're always looking for someone to blame
Now you want me to suffer just cause
You was born wide
But we are best friends right?

You’re Stephanie and I'm Paulette
You know what all my faces mean
And its easy to smoke it up, forget
Everything that happened in between

So I had love for you when I was 4
And there's no one I wanna smoke with more
Someday I'll buy the Rizla*, so you get the dro**
Cause we are best friends right, right, right, right?
Because we are best friends right?
Because we are best friends right?
"Best Friends" x Amy Winehouse

Some of you may know that my BFF? and I aren't seeing eye-to-eye anymore. Long-distance, plus different ideologies and priorities, I guess. I found her trying to shield me from life instead of supporting me when I chose to live it. Sex had always been a bone of contention with us--whenever I expressed any desire to do anything she would patronize and not listen to me, brushing off my concerns and just telling me to stay a virgin, even though she was sexually active. Ironically, in high school, she was the one who wanted to wait for marriage. When I finally had my first sexual experience, she was anything but happy for me, even though I was thrilled (and satisfied) at the outcome. That was a defining moment for me, it made me realize that we were no longer the inseparable, totally like-minded girls we'd been for the last two years of high school and first three years of college. I'm sad. I love her. But I know that we're in a different season of our lives right now. I will always appreciate our friendship, for six years she was the quintessential definition of what a best friend should be. Maybe I'm being dramatic with all of this rhetoric, but I feel like anything less would be an insult to our once ironclad bond. I wish her nothing but the happiness and love that she gave me during those beautiful years of our friendship.

Close Encounters of the First Kind

2010-01-16T01:51:00.003-05:00

I'm afraid I'm not a sex-blogger like Amy or Vix, just have enough dirty thoughts and the occasional hookup to keep things interesting. So I won't be able to go into details about what happened when Que came over to my house one evening last week.

Did we do the full monty? No. Did I want to? HELL YES.

Before this I made a promise that before anything else happened, I would come clean about my lack of experience. Before we hooked up at the party it didn't matter that I had TOTALLY lied by omission about being a virgin, because my sexual status was none of his business as a random acquaintance. But as we began toying with the idea of a physical relationship I thought it wouldn't be fair to him, and he needed to know the whole deal.

I told him in the front seat of my car after work. It was kind of funny, actually. He asked if my confession was that I had a boyfriend or spent my holiday break in a series of sexual aerobics with various suitors. "Did you mess with any guys?" he asked. "No, quite the opposite, actually," I replied. He looked at me. "You messed with a GIRL?"

Le sigh. Life is not easy.

After all the hoops I jumped through to finally confess ("say everyone assumes you've been to Paris, but you haven't. You've seen a LOT of Parisian films and seem knowledgeable about the customs and stuff but you haven't technically been. Actually, you haven't done that much traveling in the first place") he was quite understanding. Disbelieving at first, but he agreed with my reasons for not telling him sooner.

I started fantasizing about our first "real" encounter as soon as I was sure that he wouldn't curse me out or run screaming from the car at the mere mention of an intact hymen. My biggest concern was that he would expect sex, and I was at least comforted (and proud of myself) that we had outlined the boundaries beforehand. But still, I couldn't help but wonder: what if it was bad? How awkward would that be? Do I have to shave everything? What if I laugh? What if oral sex was nowhere near all it's cracked up to be?

In short, yes, it's all it's cracked up to be. HOLY SHIT IS IT EVERYTHING IT'S CRACKED UP TO BE.

All my research on Parisian customs and sneaking Cosmopolitan magazines all those years was not done in vain. Cheesy as it sounds, I was anxiety-free during the blessed event, thanks to those sources.

Some things that I learned:

-I am loud.
-It is, indeed, okay to laugh in bed if something is funny.
-Black lace does not fail.
-Inducing a boner is extremely gratifying and does wonders for your confidence.
-Any time spent worrying about the attractiveness of your vagina is time wasted.
-He has already thought about you naked. You will never disappoint.
-Following directions yields good results. Giving directions yields great results.
-Porn is a wonderful appetizer. Do not forget to close laptop and put it safely on the floor after viewing, though.

I greatly, greatly anticipate an encore very soon.

Home Sweet Home

2010-01-10T20:32:00.005-05:00

Hello, friends.

We're all aware that I de facto relocated to Southern State for college, and somewhere along the way I fell in love with this damn city. I had every intention of hightailing it back to the Midwest as soon as I walked across the stage (THIS MAY! ZOMG I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A BACHELOR'S DEGREE I STILL OWN A TEDDY BEAR AND HAVE YET TO FILE A TAX.) but like I said, the universe had other plans. So slowly and surely, I've been mentally preparing myself for a life with a 30331 zipcode for the time being, and rather enjoying it. And by "mentally preparing" I mean learning where the nearest Five Guys is and coming up with ways to convince my landlady to let me paint the walls, as opposed to, you know, finding a grad school program or studying for the GED or coming up with ideas on how to pay my own rent.

Priorities, I've got them. Avoidance issues, too.

My mother, predictably, is none too thrilled with her absentminded daughter fending for herself 700 miles away from her maternal, loving touch. My sisters either. Dad's okay with it, though, although he wouldn't turn me away (or, frankly, be surprised) if I showed up on our doorstep a year from now with nothing but a broken spirit and my iPod.

Barring the occurrence of some incredible, handsome Deux Ex Machina and I get married at my graduation party* or something, I'm guessing I'll be in a starter house of some kind for awhile by myself. Nothing excites me more than a place of my own that I can decorate and make my little sanctuary. It would be equal parts beach house, swanky loft, sports bar, and TAKE THAT, MOTHER.

*should I have it in Southern City or go back home? Dilemma!

There would be cheap posters on the walls, mismatched vintage furniture, and a refrigerator chock full of magnets and pictures. Every room would be painted, there would be framed pictures of neat stuff everywhere, candles. It would probably be a little cluttered, lip gloss would be in the kitchen, a collection of flip-flops by every door and mirrors everywhere. Mountains of books, CDs, and DVDs would stay perched on every shelf. Surround sound, duh. Maybe even a hamburger phone! I'd keep sweatshirts and cozy socks in the living room, and I'd have a big TV in my bedroom and an easy chair (the older the better) so I can watch The Office all day. Little Sister got me a Michael Jackson poster for Christmas, so that would have to go someplace prominent, obvs. Mismatched silverware, LOTS of wineglasses, with sunflowers or tulips at the table. All the lovely kitchen decor will distract from the fact that I cannot cook, see.

Every time my mom visits she'll bury her head in her hands and say what is all this junk? What is that writing on the wall above your bed? When's the last time you vacuumed? And I will smile and just be like, it's my house and it's perfect. And then I will win her over with this fellow:

Describe to me your dream house! Virtual housewarming!

Where Do You Fall?

2009-12-19T04:42:00.003-05:00

The Georgia Nicolson series by Louise Rennison is probably one of my favorite book series (behind Harry Potter, of course and duh). The first book is called Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. I think I'm a little behind, but the books I do own have me in stitches. Again, it's probably the British dry-humor thing. Anyway, the plucky (is there any other kind?) heroine, Georgia, is a little boy-crazy and spends the majority of the series trying to wrangle, maintain, and enjoy the attention of Robbie, who she names the Sex God. I heart her. Of the hilarious lingo and phrases in the book, which I've used myself--"life and soul of the party," for example--the one I love is the "Snogging Scale," kind of a girl's take on rounding the bases. For laughs:

1) holding hands
2) arm around
3) good-night kiss
4) kiss lasting over three minutes without a breath
5) open-mouth kissing
6) tongues
6.5) ear snogging
7) upper body fondling--outdoors
8) upper body fondling--indoors (in bed)
9) below waist activity (b.w.a)
10) the full monty

We should do a psychological version of it, i.e., meeting the parents, spending the night, give him the last piece of cake, etc. But other than that, is the list accurate? Leave anything out? Anything out of order?

Huh. I have never strolled down the street hand-in-hand with a boy, but I sure have dabbled in the six and above territory. What does that mean? How tarty of me...

I Bet He's the Smitten One This Time

2009-12-18T01:02:00.007-05:00

Coming home for holiday break came at the best and worst time. Best because it's Christmas and worst because I'm missing about five games with NBA team. Ugh, I can't even think about it because I'm so worried about making a good impression at this internship and it's really easy to fuck things up. So yeah, there's that.

But also, I can't help but think I dodged a bullet with Que (if you haven't guessed he's the one from the party). Before any of it happened, we had a very teasing relationship. Afterward, I resumed the teasing as usual, maybe a little more than usual to protect myself/not give anything away. On my last day, he sat in the passenger seat of my car and said that I act differently when it's just the two of us. It seemed like he was trying to get me to admit to feelings or something, but I was stressed and cranky and I couldn't be bothered to giving an inch.

"I'm going home to take a nap."

"Want me to come take a nap with you?"

I did, but I didn't know how to ask without feeling stupid. He said he'd call me after he got a haircut but he didn't.

One thing I've realized is that I have walls up when it comes to men, both inside and out.

First I think it's because I don't trust men romantically. When you hang around and work with guys as much as I do you see the cavalier attitude with which they treat women. Not to say that all guys are liars ~~even though they ARE~~, but I definitely recognize the need for a thick skin.

Also, and a little more based off of my experience, it just takes me a long time to admit to having feelings because I'm always the one with the hopeless crush, the unrequited love. Friends would always make jokes about me being totally smitten and call me thirsty with a hint of desperate. And that takes a lot out of a girl, ya know? The affair with The Smoker left me kind of scarred as well, showed me the downside of giving too much, investing too much in a boy. Once bitten, right? So I need the guy to jump first. In Que's case (whether I have feelings for him or not other than lusty ones), I feel like he's trying to case the situation and see if I'm going to slip up and say "Uncle!" to the tune of "Yes I have feelings for you," or, probably more accurately "Yes I can't stop thinking about that night come over and let's make lurrrrrrvveeee." Aha! That's what triggered his frustration in the car, methinks, when I said if he came over there would be no actual, technical, fucking.

Because as he got out of the car he said, "You know the deal. You know I want you."

Color me perplexed. I almost yelled "What do you mean 'want'? You want to sleep with me? You want to really, like, date me because I have won you over with my glasses and humor and gossipy ways? WHAT?" But I didn't want to be that shrew who over-analyzes everything. Even though in this case I should have been.

Seeing everything all spelled out like this makes me think, eh, it was a one ~~TWO~~ time thing and we're better off being friends/coworkers/partners in crime. Who maybe fool around occasionally? NO. But damn it's been a long time since I've had some nookie...I mean, once I get back maybe we could...NO. Right?

Of course...

2009-12-12T05:46:00.001-05:00

The thoughts have rolled in...

They made out in a freezing parking lot, his bold hands cupping her ass, her shoulders nestled against his chest, underneath his coat.

"What are we going to do?" she sighed against his neck. "It doesn't matter. You don't want me. I'm fraught with issues..."

"I don't care." He teasingly, urgently thrust his hardness against her clothes softness and watched her eyes flutter. "I can't wait to fuck you..."

We're not going to sleep together (well, not technically, I suppose. We'll see...). Tomorrow I leave Southern state for holiday break. Uncomplicated is key. He has a harem of women. I'm waiting until I get in a real relationship.

But my bed still smells of him...

The Party

2009-12-09T23:30:00.013-05:00

She took the cup out of his hand and tipped up his drooping chin, her eyes twinkling with liquor-tinged mirth.

"Come on," she whispered, magically audible over the pulsing music. "You can have the spare bedroom."

He nodded, his heavy-lidded eyes barely focused on her...

a minute later

"Technically we're in bed together," she giggled, her knees almost touching his reclined chest. His hand snaked lazily up her back, and she didn't mind.

a minute later

"We're fine, we're just talking, see you in a second."

She closed the door on her inquiring friend and scampered back to the bed. After barely a pause, she slid a knee over his hard waist, her position granting his hands rein under a soft shirt and over silky thighs and warm stomach. She enjoyed the perch, feeling his barely-contained lust pulsate beneath her. But with awakening lust came a twinge of conscience.

"We work together," she sighed, trying to detract his hands. He stopped her, reclining and linking her fingers in his. His supine position urged her to grind her hips lazily against him. Loving his pained expression and his tortured grip tightening, she giggled again as she mimicked the act of love.

Veiled with the heady power of seduction, she sought to tempt him even more. She wanted to know; sweetly demanded him to tell her how he thought about her, how she made him feel, how badly he wanted her right here, right now...

"I watch those legs..." "You're so fucking sexy..." "Come here..."

His words alone sent hot waves of sensation coursing through her body, even though the back of her mind forbade her to give in. He rose up to kiss her, but she pushed him back down.

"We can't. Oh, we can't..." He broke away from her desire-loosened grip and finally overpowered her. Her supple neck beckoned his hungry mouth, and he answered it greedily.

She whimpered his name, defeated, her legs anchoring around his torso as desire wound her core tighter and tighter.

Her reaction aroused, but didn't surprise him. He'd always suspected a fire smoldering under her sophisticated charm, and he wanted nothing more than to stroke that fire into explosion. Emboldened, he nuzzled out of his way the delicate necklace lying between her breasts and inhaled her sweetness, almost tasting her accelerating heartbeat.

"Oh, my God," she murmured. Murmurs became gasps as his mouth moved closer to the tight bud...

Someone knocked on the bedroom door, the sound ripping through the silence like a fist busting through glass.

Running her hands through her mussed hair, she took a deep breath. "Ye--yes?"

a minute later

She locked the front door of her house after the last of the party guests, then tiptoed through the house and back upstairs into the spare room's bright lights. Walking over to him, she tugged at his shirt, beckoning him to her own dimly-lit bedroom.

"Come on..."

I'm Coming

2009-12-07T02:04:00.000-05:00

Metaphorically speaking.

Finals week is upon me, and I'm afraid fun and smutty writing will have to take a backseat to the many, many pages of academic writing that must be completed.

But my intended smut will be worth it! Well, I hope. I've never (intentionally) written a post like the one I want to write. Partly because I wouldn't have much to write about (dry spell. Well, dry life), my private nature, and the idea of writing about dirty times scaring/embarrassing me a little. So we'll see, shall we? I'll probably enjoy it because that would mean I'd have to recount every delicious detail of what happened. For the sake of the writing of course. The wondering and the afterthoughts and the need for advice will probably follow (you know me), but first we'll focus on the good...

Long-Awaited

2009-11-26T00:58:00.005-05:00

This one's dedicated to my darling Amy, (whose HNT is SOO much better than mine but it's ok)

"Her sister's dark/but she is/sho'nuff pretty/Her skirt is short/but Lord/Her legs are sturdy" ("Living for the City," Stevie Wonder)
Can y'all guess which one's me? Haha, a happy HNT. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for my legs ;-)

Purple Rain

2009-11-21T22:16:00.004-05:00

I think I may be in love.
Yes. Love may be the word. Speechless. I think I will, thanks.

My Ipod is making a mockery of me, with all its free space and such! I spent all weekend putting new songs on Itunes, and it's barely 1/30 full. I heart it though.

I'm slowly making my way back to blogging. I get some free time soon (Thanksgiving, huzzah!) which I will do my best to fill with telling y'all about my couch-sitting, nail-polishing, homework-avoiding, basketball-watching adventures. Also, a HNT to get back into your good graces. I'm sure you can't wait.

Wet Wednesday/Half-Naked Thursday

2009-11-04T19:51:00.003-05:00

Typical. I come back after being away just to fill your minds with smut. Well, let's get on with it then.

I had recommended Usher's "Trading Places" video for the hotness factor, and two years later, I have a replacement. Or at least, an addition to the queue.

Trey Songz's video for "I Invented Sex" is, simply put, a whole lotta WIN. It makes me want to do bad, bad things. That's why I like it. Enjoy.

FYI: My 21st birthday is ~~finally~~ around the corner! On which I will be doing...nothing. I have to work. So at least I'll be at a basketball game, which, truth be told, is what I'd have wanted to do anyway. The chances of that happening, since none of my friends like basketball, would have been slim to none, but alas, dreams do come true.

Backstage Escapades

2009-10-25T17:27:00.003-04:00

Hey kids.

I finally have a new comp, but I've been busy as hell so my updates still might be few and far between. Don't abandon me. I feel like good stuff is right around the corner and you won't want to have to jump back and re-read little tidbits when the juicy stuff starts, right? Right.

Note: I feel like my words are boring already! I haven't written in awhile so bear with me.

I started my internship with NBA team, and it's...different than the WNBA, that's for sure. Besides the players being men, I mean. Everything's a little more high-paced, a little more secure, a little more intense. But the food is better.

There is another intern, we'll call him Que (because he is one). We get along pretty well, sometimes he's a little slooooooww-moving for my taste but he's cool.

Know what I look forward to, nay, relish? GROUPIES. Yes, the stuff Billie Jeans are made of! The team had a fan event today, actually, open to the public, and yes, there were a few in the bunch. This one girl had her boobs out ~~distracting everyone from her fug face~~ and a long weave; I noticed her quietly flirting with one of the guys. I saw them out of my peripheral vision, and my gossip radar kicked into high gear, honey. She was spittin' game and he was reciprocating, and yes, contact info was exchanged. This woman wrote down her contact info for everything: I'm talking address, email, phone numbers...I witnessed a proverbial groupie exchange with mine own four eyes. Now, I'm sure the players don't follow through on every number that they get, but still. These people are thirsty, Lord.

You know what I did the first chance I got. Scampered over to Que and spilled all the tea.*

*Tea: Noun. Means gossip, news, or current situation (Girl, what's your tea? or I got some tea you won't believe!)

This all leads me to another point (y'all know I have an issue about everything). I don't condone desperation or outright gold-digging, and a lot of the time I can't believe players fall for this stuff (well, they're just looking for a good time. It's the girls who want more). But still, watching players or guys in general fall over these pretty ~~yet fake~~ women eventually takes a toll on the old ego. Not saying I expected anything (I'm in this business because I like sports, not because I'm looking for a husband, obvs) but it's just...weird...like you're invisible. I can't explain it without sounding like I want something from these guys, but...hmm...those girls make regular girls like me look frumpy and fug. There, I said it.

I HAVE ISSUES I KNOW. They don't cover this in the internship handbook because it's so taboo and I don't want to ask because players' "love lives" are unspoken and very few peoples' business. Plus, most of the workers are middle-aged white men. I'd like to find someone, a young attractive black female who works in sports. I have questions.

All that aside, though, this is a great gig. Fun, and Que and I have become adept at finagling free stuff. It's an art.

Fall is Here!

2009-10-21T13:13:00.000-04:00

I love me some autumn. My birthday is in November, along with homecoming, trips to the cider mill, changing leaves, and best of all, the following:

Naps-nothing better than coming in from the cold, bundling up in sweatpants and furry socks, fixing a snacky-snack, and falling asleep in front of the TV, mid-afternoon. Absolutely nothing. The fact that I'm super-busy come fall and rarely have time to do this make it even sweeter.

Sports-Playoff baseball is actually the only kind I watch (Go Dodgers), but the NBA is my first love. Followed by college football, que claro. After around Halloween, there's pretty much always a game of either persuasion. And if I wake up kinda late, and I can just turn on the TV and let the lull of the Florida Gators or LA Lakers rouse my into consciousness. Like watching by osmosis.

Fall fashion-Ugg boots! Peacoats! Scarves! Flannel shirts! Layers of lovely clothes make me happy and keep me nice and toasty. Yummm and hot chocolate.

TV shows-a lot of my fall happiness rests on what's on TV, it seems. Alls I know is that the return of Gossip Girl, Grey's Anatomy, the Office and One Tree Hill (if it stops being dumb) equals a whole lotta WIN.

Cuddling-what better way to watch aforementioned TV and ward off said cold than with some good old fashioned body heat? It is a fact that men are warmer because they have more muscle mass which raises body temperature. I'm just trying to cut down on my heat bill, is all I'm saying.

Plus, fall backwards--more sleep! Amen.

Spotted

2009-09-30T16:08:00.000-04:00

Speak of the fineness and he doth appear.

Walking to class and him and his brother were walking on the other side of the grass median. He was just strolling around, being beautiful.

So what did I say? Um, that would be nothing. Unless fidgeting with my sleeve and flipping my hair counts as speech. Secretly I don't think he actually noticed me--he was also messing with his phone.

Maybe if it had been just him I would have said something (no idea what!) But yeah. Just to give you an idea of the psychoses I'm dealing with when it comes to him/cute boys in general. Not pretty. Eek I'm embarrassing myself! Le sigh despite not having any interaction though, I can't complain...but not for long I'm gonna have to move my arse soon...

Jacked

2009-09-29T22:53:00.000-04:00

For ONCE, it's not my fault. I have, for ONCE, a good reason not to blog. If there was ever a time to use the "this can't be life" tag, this would be it.

I was robbed. Um, twice.

The first time, someone kicked open my door and stole just about everything a) valuable, 2) sentimental, 3) that makes my life convenient and manageable. These things include Blackberry Curve (the second one I've lost for those counting at home), my LAPTOP, car keys, purse (the 2nd best knockoff I ownded) wallet, backpack (I had to buy a new Spanish book) and downstairs stuff.

They left my TV and DVD player, though.

And get this, this past weekend, someone broke into Cali Girl's trunk while we were at a club and stole our purses. Including the purple bag my mom bought me from NYC (Chinatown--the best knockoff I owned) and my new debit card and spare car key that I'd just gotten--to replace THE ONES STOLEN THE FIRST FUCKING TIME AROUND.

This shit is for the birds. I'm okay, I guess, past being scared and onto irritated. Because who gets robbed twice? Oh, yeah, the first time, I was in the house, sleeping way late, while degenerate asshole burglars cleaned me out. Basically, a something (work with me here) told me to stay under the covers, perfectly still. Yes, I think it was my instinct/gut/God trying to save my arse from something worse than losing all my stuff.

Let's not talk about it. Although I have to say what pisses me off way more than I thought was that my makeup bag was in my bag. Not only do you want my money but you want me to look busted in the process? The nerve.

When I get a new comp I shall update yall more about the happier stuff, like my new internship with an NBA team, my cousin's wedding, and my current crush. Stay tuned for that last one. I need all forces at the ready 'cause he is, to put it mildly, A VISION. A spectacle of football player, big-noseosity, and LUST.

Begging for Forgiveness and Groveling for Advice

2009-09-08T01:22:00.005-04:00

Would you rather have bad, boring sex, or none at all? Because my life has been SO, SO dull as of late that I often find it pointless to come here and regale you with my tales of going to class, going to Paper meetings, and going home. But if not posting often enough like I've been doing means that y'all will hate me forever and ever then I will surely come up with the bloggerly equivalent of groveling to keep ya around. So like I said, would you rather have boring sex or none at all? Pretend that I am sex. Huzzah.

Update: ok ok there is a boy that I have a gi-HUGE-ant crush on but I've only seen him twice in person ~~and a million times through Facebook stalking~~ like when he's on the sidelines at football games (in his football uniform, not like cheerleading. Don't play me.) and I happen to be on the track covering the game for the Paper. But he is a vision. Trust me. So what do I do? Lurk around campus, hoping to see him? Then what? I know it's real stank of me to be away for so long and then pump you with advice when I come back but I am desperate and you all are kind and well-versed in seduction. And don't turn into mush when you see a beautiful boy. So help me. Plus, if by some miracle we start something I will have PLENTY of dating shenanigans to document on this here blog! So everybody wins.

My Reputation Preceeds Me

2009-09-01T20:10:00.000-04:00

On the phone with an interview subject:

Him: "I look forward to meeting you."

Me: "Um, we've already met. I'm a friend of Top Chef's.

Him: "Oh, wait, I know you, the girl with the glasses!"

Warms my heart. That's my favorite description of myself, by the way. Hence the title!

'Cause This IS Thriller

2009-08-29T02:28:00.003-04:00

I WILL be blasting his music all day.

Since I have a ~~stupid~~ workshop for The Paper all day tomorrow, I'll make this quick.

Happy 51st birthday, Michael Joseph Jackson. I love you. Always have, always will. Your music has been the soundtrack throughout many memorable moments in my life, and I am forever grateful that you shared your remarkable gift with the world. You are the ultimate Thriller!

"But they say/The sky's the limit/And to me that's really true/But my friends you aint seen nothin/Just wait 'til I get through"

If I post nothing else today (and I might because as of yesterday I kinda like this boy) I had to get out one of my legendary birthday tributes to my favorite artist, the late, great, Michael Jackson.

Ch'mon!

Mister 81 Turns 31

2009-08-23T20:15:00.009-04:00

Yum, yum. Today is the Kobe Bryant's, aka the Black Mamba, aka my crush to end all crushes, 31st birthday. What else is there to say? Y'all all know I how I celebrate the birthdays of those I stan for so...Happy birthday boo! (LOL. But for real though. He is a vision.)

Simply scrumptious.

On a even happier note, I'm currently putting the finishing touches on my schedule for my senior year of undergrad! *Butterflies*

Old Fling

2009-08-23T01:36:00.003-04:00

Lord. Third day in Southern State, at a drunken 21st already. A friend of Top Chef (well mine too) is having his birthday. Currently en route to impromptu bowling jaunt with a bunch of half-drunk (some all-drunk) college students. Guess who is here. Science Guy, and the one, the only, The Runner. Double !!, a glass of WTF?, and a side order of a humorous are you kidding?. And yes he's been all over me. Asking me if I'm "still mad at him." From what, you ask? For walking out of his room and ceasing to talk to him. This occurred February of SOPHOMORE year, mind. Which later became the year of The Smoker. So suffice it to say, the Runner wasn't quite on my mind until I walked into tonight's shindig. And doubly suffice it to say, I had no answer. It would have only been more awkward had I not been tipsy. I really don't anticipate starting something with the Runner, it was just a weird blast from le past. But if I had to recycle an ex-fling, not quite sure it'd be the Runner. He'd be on the list I GUESS, but I really have no thoughts about him. Ah well. I'll hopefully have more to report after tonight's affair. If these drunken imbeciles ever get us to the bowling alley.

*2 seconds later*
Ok I came back. What if it was different this time? We did have a lot of fun together...

*4 Seconds later*
Stop! This is a mind-cycle that will become vicious if I ever put it into fruition. And we know I can put stuff into fruition, especially when I completely shouldn't.

*8 Seconds later*
OMG I'm reading soo much into this and it's only been a few hours. I need to chillax. Y'all pray for me.

*Like 30 min later*
I'm sitting shotgun in his car and he's writing down directions. He's left-handed. Aw.

It's a Tuba Thang, Shawty, and other Cinematic Adventures

2009-08-18T17:42:00.006-04:00

*The tuba quote is from "Drumline." Another one: "I don't know what the beef is between you two is but you better grill it up and eat it."

Several blogs have done this and I always say to myself, "Self, you should post your favorite movie quotes on your own blog." But then the Self and I get very busy with things like dropping my sister off to college in D.C. and ending my internships and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and B. Scott and I forget. But. BUT! Today is the day. I have one day before going back to school, so in the meantime, while I sit on the couch like a bum in sweatpants, here are some fave movie quotes:

And I'm drawing a blank. Hold on, hold on, let me think...ah, ok!

Legally Blonde
-Take my lucky scrunchie. It helped me pass Spanish.
-You passed Spanish 'cause you gave Professor Montoya a lap-dance after finals.
-Yeah. Luckily.

-Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people don't shoot their husbands. They just don't.

Remember the Titans
-I'm not Martin Luther King, Jesus Christ, Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. I'm just a football coach.

-Gary, if you want to play on this football team, you answer me when I ask you who is your daddy? Who's your daddy, Gary? Who's your daddy?

-All right, now, I don't want them to gain another yard! You blitz... all... night! If they cross the line of scrimmage, I'm gonna take every last one of you out! You make sure they remember, forever, the night they played the Titans!

-Let me tell you somthing: you don't let anyone come between us. Nothing tears us apart. In Greek mythology, the Titans were greater even than the gods. They ruled their universe with absolute power. Well that football field out there, that's our universe. Let's rule it like titans.

-You're overcookin' my grits, Coach.

Clueless
I don't even know why I'm listening to you anyway. You're a virgin who can't drive.
--That was way harsh, Tai.

Would you look at that body language? Legs crossed towards each other. That is an unequivocal sex invite.

Need I remind you that it does not say RSVP on the Statue of Liberty?!

My man is satisfied, he's got no cause for complaint. But technically, I am a virgin. You know what I mean.

Note: Ok, sorry, went on a Clueless rampage for a second there. Will continue with other movies now.

Juno
-Bren! You's a dick!

-I'm already pregnant, what other shenanigans could I possibly get into?

-Anyway dude, I'm telling you I'm pregnant and you're acting shockingly cavalier.

-(on the phone) Wait, what? Sorry, I'm on my hamburger phone...

Two Can Play That Game
-Ok, every girl's got a little bit of ho in them. But Connie? She's a different kind of ho. She's a lay-on-her-back, do-whatever-it-takes-to-get-your-man, kinda ho. I don't know how she got that big executive job, but three months after she got hired, her boss got a divorce. You make the call.

-Show no signs of weakness. Men only understand strength.

-Men. Why do you let your girl come over and bust all your shit up? That don't make no sense. Fellas, when you're doing your dirt, go over her house. That way, when she gets mad, she can bust up all of her shit, and then you can go home.

Also, any quotes from Anchorman, Wedding Crashers, the Kings of Comedy, or Mean Girls will suffice. Ah, movies. Where knowledge and lifelong quotables happen.

Little Moments

2009-08-13T19:29:00.000-04:00

Hi, Contentment, I've missed you!

Sitting in my car at the airport, waiting for the rental car for tomorrow's road trip. I'm staring into the sunset over the parking lot, Michael Jackson's on the CD player, and I have some McDonald's sweet tea.

I love looking up and realizing the existence of simple happiness and satisfaction. I love when it comes out of nowhere and I'm cognizant enough to recognize and enjoy it. Like right now. Right now, everything's ok.

I'm Back for a Bit

2009-08-12T02:13:00.000-04:00

Hi folks
Don't hate me. Been busy as all get-out, but of course I thought about yall all the time. My internship at the arena ends tomorrow (sads) but I'm sooo glad for a break. Well, a one-day break 'cause we leave for DC to drop my sister off on Friday! Can't wait. Hopefully when things settle down I'll have more time and subject matter to write about...

Have you ever felt invisible? Sometimes I feel like there's a muzzle on me, whether I put it on myself or feel like it's being thrust upon me, at times I feel as if no one wants to listen to me, or worse, I have nothing to say.

On another note, I freaking love jezebel.com. I spend hours on there laughing and educating myself. Love. Also, my blogroll is getting kinda stale. Any funny/insightful ones I should know about? Yall know my style.

Nickel and Dimed

2009-08-04T00:54:00.004-04:00

Get ready, I'm about to let loose.

Basically, I was promised the master bedroom way back in April and Roommate is giving it to someone else. And I'll have to--horror of horrors--share a bathroom. Roommate will be gone, and I will be "property manager" since I was there last year. Oh, gee, thanks, I get the none of the benefits but all of the work.

I'm definitely moving out. It's unfair, especially because we didn't need an additional roommate in the first place, Roommate just wanted one for "lowered rent." And I guess the girl preferred the Master and was unwilling to give it up. Even though by the time Roommate contacted her the master was already taken--BY ME. WHAT THE FUCK?? I can't share a bathroom. I just cannot. And besides that, it's the principle of the whole situation. I'm throwing shade at this new girl. Who the FUCK does she think she is?? Which is precisely what I will be asking her on this conference call this weekend. Best believe I'm calling Roommate first to get some fucking answers.

fndk;ashfi;aerghi;adhgi;dfhgis;dlhgoad;ghos;hgoad;hga'gha'hg'oaaaskij

Yeah, that about sums it up.

Songs By Which to Live and Love

2009-08-02T02:05:00.007-04:00

Let the listing continue. I took a loooooonnnggg nap today, which I haven't done in forever, and it did me a world of good. Except now I'm awake.

Top Love Songs

1. So Amazing--Luther Vandross
2. (There Is) No Greater Love--Amy Winehouse
3. I'll Be There--the Jackson 5
4. Lady in My Life--Michael Jackson
5. Just My Imagination--the Temptations

Top Love Lost Songs

1. Love Don't Love Nobody--the Spinners
2. Silly--Denise Williams
3. She's Out of My Life--Michael Jackson
4. Hello, I Need You--Michelle Featherstone
5. Light Years Away--MoZella
6. I'm Gonna Find Another You--John Mayer
7. A House is Not a Home--Luther Vandross

Top "F*ck That A**hole" Songs

1. Before He Cheats--Carrie Underwood
2. Irreplaceable--Beyonce
3. Hate (I Really Don't Like You)
4. U Don't Have To Call--Usher
5. Womanizer--Britney Spears

Five Random Thoughts About Me

2009-07-27T22:27:00.004-04:00

Because I'm feeling self-aware:

1. I hate losing things. It grates on my nerves and keeps me up at night when I've misplaced something. I will tear my house/car/dorm upside down, and if I still can't find whatever it is, I will seriously question everybody nonstop until it turns up. Sometimes it works, sometimes I have to suck it up and just buy a new Fall Out Boy CD. Even years later, I'm like, but seriously, I wonder what happened to that sweatshirt/necklace/picture?

2. Despite lots of evidence to the contrary (ha), I really think I'd make a good girlfriend, or dare I say, wife? Not for awhile on that second one, but people always say to me, "I honestly don't know why you're single!" Yuk yuk yuk. Irony aside, I like to imagine that I'm the sort of girl you'd want your brother to date. Anyone got a brother???

3. My favorite music video is "Bad" by (surprise, surprise), Michael Jackson. The dancing is intensely impeccable, it's a fun video, and I always thought MJ looked sooo sexy in it, with his all-black, chained-up outfit, and Jheri curl! Second place? Smooth Criminal--the ensemble dance after the chorus is my favorite part. Oh, I could go on and on...

4. I'm terrified of sinkholes. Utterly and completely terrified of them.

5. Most people find tardiness tantamount to the highest level of uncouth behavior, but I don't mind it ~~because I'm always five minutes late myself~~. Well, I don't mind up til ten minutes. Anything after that without a phone call is, indeed, rude.

Anyone else have random minutia about themselves?

Lessons Not Always Learned

2009-07-22T20:46:00.006-04:00

I still get seriously pensive in the shower.

About the same subject: friendship, expectations, etc. This time I was semi-productive and thought of a question. There are life lessons we learn early and stick to them, and then there are those that no matter what, still have to be beaten into our heads. Time and time again, the root of our problem goes back to the same adage we know but for some reason never live up to.

I'm curious to know you guys' lessons yet-to-be-learned. The one I have to repeatedly tell myself? If someone wants to walk out of your life, let them go. Don't chase anybody or wait for someone else to validate your relationship. Especially if you've been the best person you know how to be or have done as much as you can to stay with or around that person. And somehow always end up on the defensive when it all comes crashing down.

It is very hard for me to cut people out of my life. I like to give the benefit of the doubt. I harbor the thought that one day things will be normal and balanced and open so there's no need to be premature we can just wait it out.

I don't like to cut people out myself, but in certain cases people walk out or disqualify themselves by their own actions. If I could hold people accountable I'd let people walk out and stay there, but I'm not quite there yet. In my head it's still a process of figuring out where to place people in my life who have the potential to hurt me. I guess the question remains, though, do those people even have a place at all? It is always all or nothing? A middle ground?

Bridezillas Explored

2009-07-20T23:47:00.005-04:00

Did anybody see Bridezillas on Sunday? With Karee from Madison, WI? Who was by all accounts--eyewitness and Twitter-wise--an evil bitch with a bad weave? So many thoughts ran through my head.

-These women are lashing out at everyone because they're totally insecure about their upcoming nuptials/their relationships/their situation. Case in point: I guess Karee got her dress for a song and a dance and it showed because she sewed crystals on it for a "Vera Wang" look. When she realized that it still looked cheap, you could see the embarrassment on her face that she had to get married in that travesty. So what does she do? Yell at her poor friend. Same thing with the place cards. She picked them out and she knew they looked like shit so she complained about them. Bitch, accept your lot in life!

-Do these women ever realize that since they're the only ones making the decisions, when the finished product comes out looking stupid they really have only themselves to blame? Karee, you picked out the chocolates without tasting them and told your poor fiancee to get a bagful. Now you're the shmuck stuck with the ass-tasting truffles. Them's the breaks.

-Most to all of the weddings look tacky as hell. From the dresses to the venue, these affairs are usually an all-around fail, highlighted even more by...

-The tiny guess list! These weddings are attended by a sad, scant number of folks. Why? Because these bitches are mean. They have no friends. Just the scared few who are in the wedding (and even those folks are quick to drop out at the bride's shenanigans). Everyone else they've ever met has run away screaming.

-This can't be real.

-She is really mean. Why don't these men leave these horrid women? Obviously they have seen these women's inner and outer bitches and still want to marry them. But why? Is the P that good?

-Does Bridezillas have "Where Are They Now?" specials? I bet half these marriages fizzled. I wonder if any of these women feel badly for their behavior. Probably not.

-Is she really treating her future mother-in-law that way? Is this woman really taking it? Heidi is scared of Karee that's why. I hate unappreciative people. That box did look kinda busted though, on the real. Still, it's the thought that counts! I wouldn't have bought her ass nothing, let alone made something...

I tell ya. And this girl was 20. I'm 20. This ~~busted~~ mean-ass girl found a man willing to marry her. What is this world coming to? Is a woman acting like a "Bridezilla" reason enough to call off the wedding? Methinks so, but that's 'cause I can't stand mean people--these women deserve to be ~~alone~~ unhappy. Thoughts?

Lucky the Lumberer

2009-07-20T23:35:00.003-04:00

Like Rosie the Riveter, except not.

Ladies,

What is it about fixing your own computer, internet or cable that feels so damn good?

Was about to throw computer out the window, situation thankfully diffused. Google is the best.

New query, though. For some reason, when I get emails from a listserv on my Blackberry, they start like five lines down. It's like a pebble in my shoe; not huge but oh-so-irritating. Also when I hit "stop" on my DVD player instead of stopping it goes back to the beginning instead of just stopping like I instructed. I watch Grey's Anatomy every morning while getting ready for work and a week passed before I realized I was watching George fall down the stairs and break his arm YET AGAIN.

It is vair vair annoying.

I hate when stuff doesn't work properly. Even if it's something small like the aforementioned scenario (I could just keep hitting fast forward), it's the principle of the matter (why should I have to keep hitting fast forward?!). Am I right or am I right?

Tell me I am not alone. What seemingly little things bother you (about technology or otherwise)?

Founded Fountains

2009-07-16T09:20:00.001-04:00

Feeling kinda cranky today, yall :-( also, at work typing on my Blackberry so things are a little cramped...

I'm a rather passionate person. You could say emotional, I suppose, but I'm fairly even-keeled. However, there was a time in Lucky's youth where she was shy, sensitive, and prone to tears with the right provocation. Now, despite the, ahem, outgoing-ness (loudness), at my core I'm still the shy, quiet sixth grader who'd curl up with a book all afternoon.

Crying, on the other hand, is something I rarely do. But in remembrance of those early days, let me say this: I hate, loathe, and abhor when someone admonishes a teary person to "Stop crying." Screw you, I'll cry if I want to! (Wkcite Leslie Gore, 1963)

Seriously. Different things set people off, and just because I'm not moved to tears by something doesn't give me the right inflict that onto someone else! Not talking about kids crying or people dramatically fake-sobbing, but real tears over something.

"Don't cry" is kind of in the same vein, but people say that a little kinder. Still, it's the principle, methinks. So the next time someone's sobbing over a TV show or whatever, be a good Samaritan and hand them a tissue.

Do it for me.

Pardon the Interruption

2009-07-09T23:45:00.003-04:00

Don't mind me, I had to try out the "strikeout" html code which I have trying to figure out forever while I'm ~~watching B. Scott on YouTube~~ getting ready for bed.

Hang on... *hits "Publish Post" and crosses fingers*

Ahhhh yay it worked! Oh, the things I will say without saying. Now all I need is a new template and this blog will be well on its way to a due intervention.

~~You've been warned~~ Stay Tuned!

Today I forgot to take my phone off of "silent" after ~~barely escaping the boringest job ever~~ work, and later on I noticed somebody had been blowing my little Blackberry up. I then received this text (verbatim): "yo is this old girl from the dollar store?" Er, what? I started mentally backtracking ("did I meet anyone in the dollar store? Wait, when's the last time I've been to a dollar store?") and just called the guy. He asked me if I was, indeed, the girl he met at some random store. "Nope, sorry." He apologized, but then I could tell he was weighing his options on whether or not trying to holler at me would earn him an epic curse-out. I saved him the trouble with a "Yeah, not me. Sorry. Have a nice day." Click.

I got off the phone laughing. That dude got played in a major way. And damn she must have been fine too enough for him to call twice and send a text. And this fool had the nerve to call again, after I told him I wasn't her!

I tell ya, it's a jungle out there.

Ahead of the (Dangerous) Curves

2009-07-09T11:10:00.000-04:00

Ahaha, not a deadbeat today! Not only was I at work on time (well ok I arrived at my cubicle at 9:01) but I've already done a Half Naked Thursday!!!

On Tuesday. Scroll down now. There's a good lad.

In other news, I need to find a roommate for next year. Like now. Let's not talk about it...

Hope you're all having a super day! XOXO, Gossip Girl

Just kidding, it's me, Lucky :-)

On the Subject of Michael

2009-07-07T18:22:00.003-04:00

I watched the Michael Jackson memorial all day** and I'm damn proud of it.

**as best I could, I was at work. But I saw pretty much the whole thing.

I (somewhat) pity the people who let rumors, lies, and con artists help tear this man down. Being the huge superfan that I am, ordinarily I would love the coverage on MJ, but the reason for it makes it the total opposite. I'd completely trade constant coverage if it meant he was around somewhere, hanging out with his kids.

Also not afraid to say that if you talk shit about the King of Pop--now--I like you a teeny bit less. It is what it be.

Sorry I'm on a bit of a rant, it's been a long few weeks. MJ for life.

Half-Naked Tuesday: Lovely Opposites

2009-07-07T03:05:00.006-04:00

On a posting roll today. Been neglecting the past few HNTs, decided to make up for it. Late nights agree with me, I think.

I can never decide which is more fun: being the loyal, sensible one who keeps him in line or the naughty one who tempts his straitlaced nature unbearably.

Hmm, how about the smart cheeky one, who reads, goes to parties, and is the love of his life? Sounds good.
Happy (bonus) HNT!

Firsts

2009-07-06T19:10:00.006-04:00

1. Who was your first prom date?

BFF and Sports Fan (and their respective dates)

2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?

Um, I still watch the Pistons and listen to Michael Jackson, so yes. The first guy I had a crush on is in jail last I heard. I really know how to pick 'em!

3. What was your first alcoholic drink?

Tequila. Sophomore year in college. The start of a long and beautiful relationship

4. What was your first job?

A Sylvan Learning Center-type deal. My boss was this Chinese lady and our company logo was this weird smiley-face that had more of a frown than an actual smile. Which was so fitting.

5. What was your first car?

Burgundy Honda Accord named Henrietta.

6. Who was the first person to text you today?

Cali Girl in all her craziness.

7. Who is the first person you thought of this morning?

Sex, if that can be a person.

8. Who was your first grade teacher?

Mrs. Merritt

9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane?

Walt Disney World of course! Oh no wait, we went to Atlanta when I was a baby. So I've heard.

10. Who was your first best friend & do you still talk?

The farthest back I can remember is K, from 3rd grade to about 9th grade. Her dad was a local newscaster and her grandpa a famous mayor. She'd be so embarrassed when people made a big deal when he'd be in the audience at our choir concerts and stuff.

11. Where was your first sleep over?

K's house. It was there that I learned what an orgy was.

12. Who was the first person you talked to today?

Little Sister asked me if I wanted to get up this morning. I grunted "no."

13. Whose wedding were you in the first time?

My oldest female cousin's four or five years ago. Well, she sort of stuck me and Middle Sister in as "hostesses." We had to ask "bride or groom?" and pretend to seat people.

14. What was the first thing you did this morning?

Checked my Blackberry.

15. What was the first concert you ever went to?

Lil' Bow Wow's Scream Tour--still have the t-shirts, I think

16. First tattoo?

I don’t have one and I’m deliberating.

17. First piercing?

My ears.

18. First foreign country you went to?

Canada, as foreign as that can be

19. First movie you remember seeing?

Beauty and the Beast in the theaters, methinks, shortly followed by Snow White and the Lion King.

20. When was your first detention?

In like 5th grade, when the school passed this asinine detention policy for 5th grade infractions like tardies and not doing our homework properly. It soon became a party.

22. Who was your first roommate?

Besides Middle Sister? This anal-retentive girl named Brittany.

23. If you had one wish. What would it be?

To get married and start a family (combo)

24. What is something you would learn if you had the chance?

Play the drums

25. Did you marry the first person to ask for your hand in marriage?

I have never been honestly asked.

26. What was the first sport that you were involved in?

Cheerleading, and dancing before that, if dancing counts.

27. What were the first lessons you ever took?

Ballet, tap, and jazz

28. What is the first thing you do when you get home?

Change into my sweats and pee. And get a snack.

Very Little To Show for Myself

2009-07-06T18:52:00.004-04:00

I opened up this blog window with a purpose, wanting greatly to tell y'all something witty and heartwarming, but I have nothing except for honorable intentions, that is.

For realsies I don't know what to say! Nada, zilch, zippo, the inside of a donut!

So yes, so I don't have an actual post but the point is I tried, ok?

Regale me with tales of your Monday, for I spent mine on the couch. Yes for days off!

Update: my mother loves us enough to raid Sam's Club for us to she can later complain that we eat too much junk food. For breakfast I had half a banana nut muffin and Arnold Palmer. For lunch I had half a chocolate muffin, a mini-bag of Doritos, and Coke. For a snack I had more Arnold Palmer. Clearly I need help. It's summertime and when I get lazy I eats. If I'm not gonna exercise, I at least have to stop scarfing down everything but Precious' dog food. Help. I did try a dog biscuit once. In my youth. Well, a few years ago. Don't ask.

Matrimony Music

2009-07-04T00:29:00.007-04:00

Five songs that must be played at some point at your wedding. Go!

1. "So Amazing" by Luther Vandross--my parents played this at their wedding

2. "Sweetest Love" by Robin Thicke--he says it himself

3. "Crazy in Love" by Beyonce--duh because it's fun to dance to

4. "(There is) No Greater Love by Amy Winehouse--it's so sweet, especially acoustic. I'd get someone to sing it as we stood in front of everybody (people do that, right?)

5. "Just My Imagination" by The Temptations--one of my top Temps songs (watching the biopic as we speak)

6. "Like a Star" by Corrine Bailey Rae--is that a wedding song? Well, it'll be at mine.

Now that I think about it, it's been awhile since I've been to a wedding. My cousin is marrying this chick in October (psst! Her ring is HUGE) and he's not that much older than I am. Read: hot friends!

Let me know, folks!

Working Girl, Interrupted

2009-07-02T01:41:00.004-04:00

Working with a professional sports team means there are a lot-- A LOT--of random people floating around. Just like literally working in a big place gets less confusing, eventually you start to recognize the dozens of people.

Except we know how good I am at isolating myself in a crowd of people.

My desk kind of faces a wall (that sounds soo lame), and during games, I feel like the other PR interns they have stuff to do, and they are, well, as anti-"reaching out" as I am. So we sit next to each other awkwardly.

HAHA, and they have to wear these disgusting red polos. And by disgusting I mean tacky.

Last year, at TV Station, the other interns were girls and we got along swimmingly and gossiped and whatnot, even though they'd been there a whole month and some before I got there and I thought I'd be the odd lame-o out but noo we bonded over licking hundreds of envelopes and hiding from our boss and taking internet personality quizzes when we were supposed to be, well, not doing personality quizzes.

Anywho, I guess I've only been around the PR interns a few times so maybe by the end of the summer we will have become chummy and I will have found one of them cute. That last part is kind of a stretch but hey.

But in the event of folks (like MY MOTHER) saying that I didn't take the reigns in extending the hand of friendship, um help, my surely more sociable readers. Give me some graces. Even though besides this one insignificant detail of not really having anyone to talk to, I totally enjoy working (interning, whatever) at The Arena.

I wish I worked at The Office. If Dunder Mifflin was a professional sports arena.

My Domain

2009-07-02T01:19:00.006-04:00

I'm in that portion of the summer where everything is everywhere. Lord have mercy. My bedroom, my sanctuary, my boudoir is in utter shambles. Shambles, I tell ya!

As is, coincidentally, my life. I think the two occurrences may be related. Ok I may be exaggerating the "life" part but the room part is sadly, sadly true.

Looking around, what do I see?

A sombrero on an open suitcase full of shoes. A shopping bag of underwear (that I could not afford) next to a pair of Nike Hyperdunks and leather computer bag.

There are clothes and unmentionables alike hanging on many a horizontal surface (the dryer was broken so I had to line-dry EVERYTHING, 1950s style).

A very, very unused (yet fully blown-up exercise ball) that will someday obstruct my walking path.

Empty Dairy Queen on the ironing board.

Books littering the surface at the head of my bed (they used to be in a tidy pile but Lord only knows what happened).

Just randomly reflecting on my room and, well, le sigh. Also I love The Office. That is all.

Transformers 2: A Study

2009-06-27T00:22:00.004-04:00

I'm still sad. But it's a happy sad. A "sing along to 'The Way You Make Me Feel' through my tears" kind of sad. Before I lost my Favorite Entertainer of All Time, Little Sister and I went to see the midnight premiere of Transformers 2. The theater was hot, and it was long (and a little racist!) but it was a great entertainment. I decided (during a lull in the 2.5 hours of action) that T2 was a combination of movies. SPOILER ALERT.

Harry Potter 7: Optimus Prime dying and whatnot reminded me of Dumbledore's untimely demise. I think I was the only one in the theater who caught the funny part when the mom looks around the college and goes "ooh this is like Hogwarts!"

Also, the Decepticon informed the world that someone must bring forth Sam Witwicky in order to spare the world from destruction. Very Voldemort-esque!!!

War of the Worlds: I myself was exhausted after watching both of these movies.

The Mummy: they were in Egypt a lot, ok?

The Matrix: after every single plot twist and turn, the thing that could save Optimus Pride, and, conveniently, the world, was a doodad called...the matrix. Of all things. Wha? 15 years later, world-saving technology is still limited to the matrix. I shook my head.

I did enjoy it, though, even with Megan Fox's boobies all up in my face and everyone constantly looking perfectly sweaty and dirt-smudged.

Up next in the technically bad but I will probably love it category: GI Joe. Then The Ugly Truth and then, joy of joys! Harry Potter the Sixth. I am so ready.

The Way He Made Me Feel

2009-06-25T19:47:00.007-04:00

I can't.

You're telling me that the King of Pop, is gone?

That my favorite artist in the entire world, is no longer with us?

I don't believe you.

My parents' generation has John Lennon. They heard it on the radio. I saw it on CNN. Fucking TMZ.

I was glued to the TV, until it flashed across the screen. Had to close my eyes. Broke down in tears. Never met the man, physically, duh. Don't give a fuck. Still numb. Cried already. Will probably cry again.

The vultures are gonna come. As if they hadn't already. Oh, are you reporting that the stress of media hounding took its toll? No shit.

Listening to Smooth Criminal as we speak. Talking heads on the news getting on my nerves.

When I'm nervous I ask myself, what would Dirty Diana do? I belted "Rock With You" just yesterday. Oh, God, "Rock With You." Cue the tears. "The Way You..." I can't even type it.

I always imagined that was the song I would fall in love to. Never told anyone that before. But I always thought that if I ever needed to know if I was in love, the song "Rock With You" would come on, and he would look into my eyes, smile, and sing along, and I'd know he was The One, because he got it.

Did you know that, Michael? You were supposed to be there when I fell in love. You will be. You said you wanted your music to make you immortal. It will. It has.

Keep looking at the screen, not really watching, still can't believe it. Next time I blast "Streetwalker" in my car, will I cry?

What the hell, Michael? Why, Michael? At the very least, you weren't supposed to die before I saw you in concert! I thought I'd be older when you went. I knew I'd cry though.

This isn't real. Two seconds of "Don't Stop til You Get Enough."

Just cried again.

Update: I saw both my mom and dad shed a tear when they thought I wasn't looking. It's real.

Rainy Ruminations

2009-06-20T02:18:00.000-04:00

Hola ladies and gents.

I was totally and completely planning to grovel for your forgiveness tomorrow but that persistent broad, guilt, kept disturbing my sleep. I really do love you guys! I mean, I *think* about posting a lot, which counts for something, right?! Well to me it does ok?
But I will try to honor my bloggerly duties, even if it means sacrificing my thumbs by posting from my Blackberry. Things we do for love.

Honest I do think about yall a lot. For instance after tonight's game I had to drive home in a pitch black, hurling vortex of a thunderstorm and had to use my music as a coping mechanism, ie: don't stop singing along lest your mind wanders to, "oh my God I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I wonder if they'll have a TV special on me hmm it'll drive my 'exes' insane with remorse for treating me bad hmm there's a silver lining oh well as long as they bury me a gangsta big curve sharp turn shhhhiiittttt..." And the only other thing I could think of was "if I live to tell the tale this is defffffinitely going on the blog."

So clearly I've got my priorities straight and yall are at the top of the list :-)
Also for my own convenience here's a list of things I've been meaning to talk about that I can refer to when I inevitably sit down to post and get smacked with a case of Empty Brain/Lack of Creativity:

-WNBA: my thoughts so far
-dream house
-close call with my sister
-family ruminations contd
-this episode of What Not to Wear that totally struck a chord
-the squirrel and the freeway

Obvs only wrote tidbits so as not to give it all away too soon (we know me). So stay tuned, all!

Yours in faithful, bespectacled service,

Luckylicious

Wedding or Circus?

2009-06-14T02:30:00.003-04:00

Things have been a little heavy in my mind (and, sigh, in my jeans...) so really quick, so I spread a little good energy around:

I am LIKE COMPLETELY OBSESSED with Who's Wedding is it Anyway. Every time I watch it I mentally add another idea to my list of wedding stuff for my proverbial Big Day like a million years in the future.

-purple/fuschia as one of the wedding colors
-chocolate cake (I wish. Apparently not everybody likes chocolate cake *sad face*)
-long wavy hair (for me, duh)
-our own vows
-NO Pachebel's Canon in D (I was forced to play it on the piano for guests as a child and have never really gotten over it) or Vivaldi
-no tulle. Anywhere.
-or, omigod, updos
-a rehearsal barbecue instead of rehearsal dinner

I could go on and on.

Linyette, the no-nonsense, good-natured black lady from Baltimore, is my favorite wedding planner, FYI.

The funniest episode was the wedding between this snooty blonde [gold-digger] and this stereotypical, Bart Bass-type dude. They kept pushing the date back, too. The first time, the couple was "having problems" which was totally code for one of these numbers:

"You don't care about this wedding or you would have came to the cake tasting with me!"

"Don't care? Don't care? I was busting my ass at work trying to pay for the goddamned cake!"

But apparently, things were smoothed out, and preparations commenced for the new date. Then, the already overworked Kevin and his team of wedding planners start getting calls from angry vendors with unpaid bills. Oh, snap, right?! Looks like Mr. Moneybags ain't so moneyed! I could imagine that fight, too

"Do you know how embarrassing it is for our celebrity wedding planner to tell me that the florist hasn't been paid? In front of my friends? In front of the cameras? IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER?!?!"

"Why did you order a hundred different types of fucking flowers anyway?"

"Oh, now you want to add your input!"

And of course, the lady took it out on poor Kevin, griping at him when he asked her if they were going to pay $1500 for parking, something the bride hadn't thought of but was clearly in the pamphlet he gave her at the beginning of the plans. Later that night, I'm sure:

"I totally gave Kevin hell today worrying about fucking parking. And for what?! If your money's funny and we can't pay for this wedding I swear to God..."

Our brave weddling planner manages to soothe the ires of the florists, bakers, dressmakers, etc, and they even give the couple until Thursday to pay their bills. Thursday comes and goes, no word from the happy couple. Heroically, miraculously, Kevin manages to extend the deadline until Friday afternoon. And still no word from the couple! At this rate, my mouth is gaping open, this is un-fucking-leviable!

Kevin has to go around and tell the various vendors that this particular wedding is pretty much a no-go at this point, and finally, he ends up at the lady's house, where she tells him that the wedding's not happening. She sounds pretty vague, as if there may be a slim chance that her and [her money train] Bart Bass 2.0 can work things out, silently imploring Kevin to keep her as a client. But Kevin reads her like a book. If the wedding was totally off, there would be no need to say so anyway, but he tells her flat-out and very politely, that he couldn't work with her anymore. Even though her wedding was just cancelled, I was secretly kind of happy that Kevin gave her the heave-ho because she was a brat.

Clearly, I've invested a lot into this show.

Life Lessons on a Saturday Night

2009-06-14T01:52:00.005-04:00

In the interest of time and a DVD, I'll make this short.

Tonight, I had a revelation that my views on my Middle Sister have been clouded by judgment. Judgment from me as well as my parents. And by "as well as" I mean probably "largely because of." She's made mistakes throughout middle and high school: bad decisions, wrong crowd of friends. She's a good kid, she just has a lot of defenses, a lot of attitude, and probably, a lot expected of her (my being the Prodigal Daughter and all--I'm joking but I'm serious). There have been skids that have made her seem--and sometimes be?--untrustworthy, and for a long time, it seemed like issue after issue. The best thing was for me to keep her somewhat at length so her destructiveness wouldn't take an emotional toll on me. I just hated the fighting, the atmosphere, the tension.

Since I've been home for the summer, she's kept her nose clean (but NOT, dear God, her bedroom), but you'd never guess it from the way my parents interrogate her every time she steps outside the house after 7pm. I usually thought nothing of it, surely there was some indiscretion she was still being punished for, right? Tonight, I even tried to talk to her about it, and how she responded really made me think. I asked her why she wasn't willing to alter her behavior to regain our parents' trust. Telling us she's going to a party as she walks out the door and being vague about who's throwing it would breed suspicion from the most lax of parents (hopefully). Which I told her, which she understood. But then she pointed out that no matter what she does, they treat her the same. There has been no incident directly involving her that I know of, yet as I think about it, but now that I think about it, the antagonizing from my parents would seriously suggest otherwise.

As I drove back home after dropping her off, I really thought about it. My parents can only see my sister for what she was, not what she is trying to do to move on/improve. And sadly, I realized that I was guilty of the same thing because of our own relationship. I was so ready to believe the worst of her, not even considering that perhaps she was changing but we refused to see it. I can't believe I missed it, how blind I've been, perhaps because my mom sometimes turned to me for advice/to rant about Middle Sister's latest shenanigans. I had liked to think of myself as a mediator of sorts, but I really was a translator, a negotiator for one party only. Now that I think about it, whenever there's a conflict, I try to gently explain my parents' rationale, however faulty, to the offending child, while mentally checking out of the situation. I thought that was my job as a daughter, the oldest daughter, to be an apostle, preaching the words of those who I was supposed to be loyal to first and foremost: my parents. In most cases, I really do think that a kid must follow his or her parents' wishes ("as long as you live in this house!"), but as we've gotten older, there has been slight room to haggle. It's time for the haggling to benefit both parties, not just the most powerful.

Don't get me wrong, Middle Sister still can be, ahem, difficult, but she and Little Sister are indeed the apples of my eye. I owe it to her to start being in her corner publicly, not just in my own head to make myself feel better. Wow. Looks like I'm not the Prodigal Daughter after all.

Well, in this case.

Issue-Laden

2009-06-12T02:00:00.004-04:00

Ok I lied rant back on.

Worries:
-I haven't had the time (nor, if we're being honest, the inclination) to exercise in awhile. I have, however, had time to eat AND EAT and I'm afraid it will catch up with me sooner that later

-Sometimes, while reflecting about the past three years in preparation for my senior year (WHOOOO!!), I'm scared I'll make the same mistakes in terms of friendships, relationships, etc and let people treat me any kind of way and respond destructively.

-My sisters are growing up before my bespectacled eyes and I hate it. HATE HATE HATE it. Drove Little Sister to her piano lesson and while we were goofing off in the car I totally almost burst into tears because she's about to start high school and then she will probably definitely be too cool for me :-( also, Middle Sister is about to start college and I'm really scared that our personality differences will tear us apart.

-I've been feeling quite insecure lately. Inadequate, lacking, unrelatable almost; even incapable at human interaction. Like, I enjoy being alone but then I like it too much that I'm closed off so even when I want company I'm stuck on my solitary island. An island with lots of books and pretzels, but seldom other people.

-Also it's my last year to find a college boyfriend. Even though, I don't think about it as much as I used to. However, when what has been a central worry is now on the back burner compared to my other worries, I get mighty worried. At least I still have my wit.

That felt amazingly amazing to get off my chest, once again. Blogtherapy. Better than tequila.

I Need a Financial Bailout

2009-06-12T01:32:00.002-04:00

I often joke around when the words aren't flowing like I need them to, saying things like "Who hired me?" "Why did I choose to be a writer?" in jest, of course.

This WNBA internship affords me lots of opportunities to write stories, one thing I thought I was good at--well, people have told me I'm good at, some [ok many] days I think I suck and words just appear out of my ass and apparently people like them. Or did they?

Maybe it's a college-to-professional growing pains thing. I know the ins and outs of editing and journalism and critiquing but let me be a baby for a second: WAAAHHH MY "EDITOR" KEEPS CHANGING MY STORIES TOTALLY AROUND AND I'M STARTING TO THINK I SUCK FOR REAL FOR REALS. *pouts*

End rant. I'm going to be mature about this and ask that instead of me turning in a story and reading something completely different (I get that my writing needs work...or do I? See above) I could work more closely with him as he edits, time permitting of course. Is that a good idea? I hope it is. I might chicken out though--which I doubt because my "editor" is cool. I put "editor" in quotes because he's probably not even thirty yet and he reminds me of Seth Cohen. Totally not intimidating. Anyway, I'm going to learn from this internship if it kills me: this is just what I need, someone totally unbiased to edit, rearrange, prune, Botox, chop, screw, sautee, and iron out my wrinkly articles until they are silky smooth with perfection. But I want my stories to sound different from his, you know? He's a really good writer (I'm jealous/admiring) but he's not me, and if I've learned anything it's that you (I) need your own writing voice, which I'm working on, by the way.

Whew. I'm glad I got that off my chest. Oh and I'm scared I'll get kicked out of my place back in Southern State because we (my parents) never pay the rent on time. Without getting too deep into it, I've always been weird about asking for money from my parents, because a) I'm cheap 2) we haven't always had it and I couldn't stand the thought of being a burden. Even though it's important (so I won't be homeless duh), I can't fathom bitching about it to parents who have to put two more kids through college soon (Middle Sister class of 2013, go Bison! awww I'm so proud) amidst this little thing called The Greatest Recession Since the Greatest Depression which hit our city and our family hard. Like rock through a windshield hard.

So it's like yeah I know my family's situation but at the same time I understand my roommate needs the money so she's getting an attitude with ME because I'm around even though I'm like bish it's not coming out of my pocket no matter how many times you psuedo-lecture me about the rent being My Responsibility and It's How You Build Credit, You Know (true story). If you're Person A and Person C has your money, I wouldn't keep going through Person B. That's just how I look at it; maybe I'm bang out of order. I don't know what to do. If someone does, don't be stingy, share the knowledge so my hair doesn't fall out with stress and I end up weeping silently into my iced tea.

Dirty Harriet Goes to Work

2009-06-04T02:15:00.003-04:00

When an assignment must be done, what do we do? BLOG!

Covered a lovely community relations event today and now am trying to craft a story out of a page of notes and a Gossip Girl-addled brain. To the uneducated eye, it can appear as if I'm procrastinating, but ah, 'tis a FOOL who thinks that! It's all a part of my process. I putz around on the internet, watch some TV on DVD, put on some lotion, and BAM. A Pulitzer-worthy article comes spilling out of nowhere. We're still in the putzing and DVD phase, so this might take awhile.

Remember when I totally George Foremaned my hand (on the oven)? The resulting burn looks like a tiny grill mark and is distracting as I absentmindedly type on the keyboard...

Dressing business casual is not my forte. Button downs and slacks and pumps are hateful. Hateful, I tell you. When I actually wear pumps, that is. Even though at TV Station we had to dress appropriately, that was like a year ago and at Big Sports Station the dress code was like one step above sweatpants so now I'm lazy. I work with two shirt and tie guys and the other PR girls are these svelte creatures who wear pencil skirts and four-inch heels and sparkly tank tops underneath their shirts and then there's me. No style-havin', would rather be wearing jeans and flip-flops, forever wrinkled ol' me. I tell ya. I wasn't made to wear professional attire.

I wish I was Serena van der Woodsen. SHE knows how to dress.

Quirks

2009-05-31T19:26:00.004-04:00

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 Kind of Love

2009-05-25T00:07:00.006-04:00

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.

Family Drama and a Movie

2009-05-24T02:09:00.005-04:00

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.

HNT: How Cheeky!

2009-05-21T23:26:00.008-04:00

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 :)

Dream Killah

2009-05-20T19:45:00.002-04:00

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.

Internship Update

2009-05-20T19:17:00.003-04:00

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'.

Summer's Begun

2009-05-17T22:44:00.004-04:00

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.

HNT: Smooches

2009-05-14T03:44:00.005-04:00

My very first HNT! I might get freaked out and take it down, so enjoy it while it lasts, y'all...

Getting ready for a party. Told you so. HHNT! Kisses, of course ;)

Obligatory Women's Lib Rant

2009-05-14T03:20:00.005-04:00

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.

The Yahoo! Reign of Terror Continues

2009-05-13T00:48:00.006-04:00

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

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.

Dating Vernacular

2009-05-11T00:50:00.007-04:00

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."

Late Start

2009-05-10T21:23:00.004-04:00

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.

My Shindig

2009-05-10T20:43:00.004-04:00

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!

Move Over, Hillary

2009-05-10T02:55:00.012-04:00

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.

Greatest City in the World

2009-05-05T00:15:00.004-04:00

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?

Wardrobe Malfunctions

2009-05-04T22:30:00.004-04:00

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.

Sexy Things Meme

2009-05-02T16:56:00.007-04:00

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!

Final Thoughts

2009-05-01T20:11:00.007-04:00

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.

You Won't Get It

2009-04-30T00:26:00.007-04:00

I learned my lesson about writing about specific guys too much on here, but I started a story about the guy from the film screening and I owe you a "what happened next" post.

On Monday, I did indeed go over to his place, where we talked for a few hours on his floor. Well, I did the brunt of the talking. There was lots of flirting on both ends, no real physical contact. We texted almost all day on Tuesday, and somehow the texting turned dirty. I forget who started it, but I think we all know I'm no stranger to sexual innuendo, so I played right along. Key word: played. Well, on my end.

We were supposed to hang out again on Tuesday, but I got stuck doing stuff for the Paper and we had to cancel. Earlier today, when I asked him what he was doing later, he responded, "U." This is when I started to panic: all our flirty/textual filth had me writing checks that my ass couldn't cash, literally. I am not/was not looking for sex, but it became clear that he was and thought I was as well. I vented this to various friends, fearing that once he found out these legs were closed, he would be, as the expression goes, so over me. The response from pals I got was I shouldn't want someone who would be over me just because we wouldn't be sleeping together anyway. Point taken.

Anyway, I sort of eased into the "no sex clause" (this is all through texting still) and the answer was not a happy one. He pretty much said he was looking for sex and thought I was, too. So I asked him if that was it, are we "over" if there's no sex? He said he "wouldn't say that" but went on to, well, say it. I expressed my position, apologizing for leading him on and saying that I'd like us to hang out still but sex wouldn't be part of the equation. When I got home a half-hour later, I called him up to maybe clarify, talk it out; no answer. That was at 10:30pm. It is now past midnight.

So yeah. My worries were pretty much confirmed: I told him "no sex" and he told me "well then peace out, bitch." I guess I'm sad about what "could have" been: he hadn't given me a chance to explain that making out/rounding a base or two were still perfectly viable options.

If you're wondering why I'm making such a big deal about this, well, it's time for me to come clean: I'm still a virgin. I talk a lot of filth, but I am still quite, ahem, untried. In every sense. Not for particular religious beliefs or anything, at this point it's just because I haven't found anybody worth fucking. Yes, including you, Film Screening Guy. I didn't tell him this, and waffled on whether or not I should, but somehow I doubt that would change things if he was just out for sex to begin with.

This instance does not bolster my faith in future dating prospects and boy-kind in general: how the hell does a 20-year-old female virgin navigate within a 2009 world of men who expect and are used to regular helpings of ass? We virgs are a rare breed, after all. I'm a little annoyed right now, actually. I cleaned my room for this yahoo. I try to look for the lesson in things, like "why did this happen," and so far I can't come up with anything except for to remind me that "yes, Lucky, you are still [and will probably forever be] a virgin. Still." Thanks for the update, world.

So yeah.

Some days, hell, most days, I wish I wasn't holding my V-Card. Especially in situations like this. Even though I wouldn't have sex with Film Screening Guy after knowing him for FIVE WHOLE FUCKING DAYS. Maybe I should buy a t-shirt that says "Virgin" to alleviate any misconceptions. Internets, a) don't laugh at me. I am fragile. 2) answer me this: what could I have done differently in this situation? Shut down the dirty texting ASAP? Inform him of my virginity the first time he brought up sex in conversation? Let the Smoker deflower me last year to get it over with already? Censor myself/stop talking about sex with such exuberance so as not to send the wrong idea? I never tell people I'm a virg, never say I'm not, let people draw their own conclusions, but tell the truth if asked directly. This involves lots of conversational sidestepping and vague answers, in case you were wondering.

It may not be easy when you're sleazy but it's just as hard when you're not.

Be Careful What You Wish For

2009-04-27T15:04:00.004-04:00

On Friday I went to an film screening. Of course I tipped in late, so I sat in the back next to some dude. Key word: some dude.

We made little comments about the movie for a bit, I didn't really think about it because it was early and I was hungry and fantasizing about waffles. At one point, I was squirming and crossing/uncrossing my legs and I guess he noticed (I was wearing shorts) and leaned over to say, "I like your sandals." I am so sure.

After a minute, he introduced himself, and I did the same. I still didn't think anything of it. Really, I was that hungry, y'all. Anyway, my phone started buzzing and I when I whipped it out to address three missed calls he goes "while you have your phone out you should put my number in there." Points for finesse, sir!

He texted me later on that night and we went back and forth on Saturday, too, during both convos he invited me to his place. At 2am, mind you.

Since I'm on my Blackberry, in a booth killing time before class I'll skip to the part where I think we're hanging out this evening at a respectable hour, duh. I'll skip to the part where I say I'm nervous not that he's like sooo sexy blah blah he's ok but you know I hate awkward let's get to know each other one on one situations and I fear I'm not that interesting and plus omg here's the big part he's on the basketball team and I'm scared that his roommate is actually his teammate that I turned down to "hang out" last month wouldn't that be horrid?

Me and the Runner used to hang out in his room but we'd been talking on facebook for like eight months before so we pretty much knew each other and this is nothing like that. What do people do when they hang out?? Why am I so nervous?? Why did I not inherit social skills??
Somebody slap sense and calmness into me. Will report back later.

Update: it's 9:02pm, I'm supposed to be going to his place soon, after a rigamarole of plans. He asked if I had any single friends--like my roommate--if we could "all" hang out, to which I had to tell him me and the Roommate aren't friends like AT ALL, so it would be 10 kinds of stupid to bring her along. He asked if I had any single friends and I thought "do I ever, dude." But none who would subject themselves to being "hooked up." But I managed to convince Ms. Politics to accompany me, which abated my nerves for about an hour, until then she got really nervous, so I put her out of her foreseeable uncomfortability and said I'd go alone, as originally planned. So here I am [blogging] doing homework so I won't have to get ready to go on my first "hang out with a guy I just met" experience. What the hell is my problem?! (well, see above) I need a drink...

Tagged, I'm It!

2009-04-24T00:56:00.003-04:00

I was tagged by the lovely Amy of Sex, Chocolate, and Red Lipstick. Here goes!

8 Things I Am Looking Forward To:

1. NBA playoff basketball
2. a summer internship with a major sports team/franchise :)
3. meeting my next boyfriend (wherever he is he needs to hurry up and make his presence known!)
4. seeing my family soon for summer vacation
5. Obsessed starring Sasha Fierce and Idris Elba aka Sex on a Stick
6. a fancy-dress event with Motown Lover next weekend
7. The Paper's major "Men of the Year" issue--I'm excited for the photo shoots I helped plan
8. shopping--I see it for the near future: I want a bright sundress and some nail polish
Hon. Mention: hot swimming weather!

8 Things I Did Yesterday
1. Slept in (yay for canceled class!)
2. got my eyebrows done
3. shaved my legs, I think/I hope haha
4. applied for a scholarship (I really hope I get it because last year the awards banquet was super-fun)
5. reflected on my past, ill-fated crushes and cringed
6. spent inordinate amounts of time on Facebook
7. rented "The Brothers" and "The House Bunny"
8. got caught in the rain

8 Things I Wish I Could Do
1. cuddle in this thunderstorm
2. watch the Pistons try and take a 3-0 lead over the Cavaliers tomorrow
3. flirt successfully
4. turn back the hands of time (just kidding)
5. buy Season 2 of Gossip Girl
6. open the bottle of Pepsi downstairs (I had to CUT the top third off of the bottle...it wouldn't budge!)
7. measure my running distances in miles, not minutes
8. stop procrastinating
Hon. mention: wear heels and skirts without feeling like a tranny

8 Shows That I Watch
Eek! Don't know if it's that many...
1. Gossip Girl
2. One Tree Hill
3. Kimora: Life in the Fab Lane
4. The Game
5. Millionaire Matchmaker
6. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
7. The Cosby Show
8. Inside the NBA
Hon. mention: Ask a Gay Man (it's a youtube series. Sue me).

I tag: Vixen, Vittoria, the Brooklyn Boy

Young, Black, and Absent

2009-04-20T21:32:00.004-04:00

'Kay. I am watching the CW and trying to do my paper. Finished Gossip Girl (amazing duh) and now onto One Tree Hill (not so much).

Why can't they get Skills a black/African-American/colored/negro love interest??????

There are no young black women on television. Young ranging from teen dramas (see above) to like, Grey's Anatomy. There is seldom an attractive black female character on a TV show, and quite frankly, I'm sick of it.

Well, we can include The Game which is totally like the best sitcom ever. But anyway. If we don't include the genre (read: black, usually shuffled to UPN--may it rest in peace) shows and just look towards mainstream TV, pretty/desired (NOT just lusted after) AND complex leading ladies never have brown skin.

The pretty part is important because as black women we want to be desired and sweetly courted, too, not just objectified or given the one-off role of stripper. For example, on Grey's. The female characters were supposed to be smart AND bangable, which they were. Except Miranda Bailey. Now, never say I don't love Dr. Bailey because God would strike you down as a liar. But. On the show she's the maternal character, more harshly put: the Mammy figure. She's older than the other ladies, married with a child, and she's never had a love scene four or five seasons in.

I'm just sayin'. "Girlfriends" is off the air. "One on One" is off the air. "The Parkers," "Moesha"...hell, The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air only dated black women (and he dated a LOT). Young black gals gets no love, it seems.

Ok, I'm outta here. I have so much incomplete homework it's scary.

More Harry Potter Nonsense

2009-04-19T19:13:00.004-04:00

How amazingly awesome is this newest Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince trailer? I watched in the Paper office on Friday and was writhing in my chair with excitement. I want this one to be rated at least PG-13.

I have lost all willpower and desire to finish my homework in the name of this here video clip. Watch and be amazed.

PS--sometimes I get a little embarrassed at how much I adore Harry and the gang, but thankfully, those times are few and far in-between. Most of the time I just lurrrrrrve them.

Domesticity Remixed

2009-04-17T02:41:00.006-04:00

Another double-post. You lucky devils!

After my trip home, my mom guilted me into eating better (and rightfully so) while at school, so lately I've been putting up a valiant effort. No McDonald's (even though I am absolutely craving a Big and Tasty with a large fry and chocolate shake), and I went grocery shopping for substance so I could cook. Which I did today!

To satisfy my craving, I made hamburgers for the first time.

I effing love Kroger's to death. I felt like such a suburban housewife strolling cutely through the aisles gathering ingredients for the night's dinner. Even though my mom, who actually is a suburban (working) wife, would be like bish plzz it ain't fun and games when you have to bulk shop for a family of five picky eaters, I myself enjoy grocery shopping. I'll go in for a set list and come out with DVDs and makeup too, like I did today. And ohmygod, shopping at those warehouse stores called like "National Wholesalers" or "Liquidators Etc" sets my heart ablaze with happiness. Also, the Kroger's near my house is open 24 hours. Which means I happily do my shopping at 2am.

Even though most people my age (including myself) are delightfully liberal, I think there's something fulfilling about eventually becoming a suburbanite. Maybe because I spent a huge chunk of my life in the 'burbs. After a life of moving, shaking, and changing the world, a part of me really can't wait to drive a caravan of kids to basketball games and dance classes.

Well, really, I can't wait for a Saturday where I throw on a hoodie and flip-flops, kiss my sexy husband goodbye and herd our funny, messy kids (but not the family dog) into my shiny Escalade that blares (by then, old-school) Fall Out Boy, Usher, and Amy Winehouse.

Suburbia, Lucky-style. And by then, surely I'll have learned to cook. Maybe.

More Flashbacks

2009-04-17T01:46:00.005-04:00

Thursday was Top Chef's 21st birthday...he is now the Official Buyer of My Drinks until my 21st in November. He's having a party this Saturday and I'm super-excited 'cause, you know, it's him, and it's a party and he told me there'd be Fuzzy Navels just for me (I can't bring myself to imbibe like I used to after Spring Break Fiasco 09).

Also, the Science Guy will be in attendance.

I had a huge, girly crush on SG for about, oh, a few months of second semester of freshman year. Lack of palpable chemistry** relegated him to the friend-zone, and that was that. Soon after, I moved onto the Runner...who eventually got eliminated as well for...well, lack of palpable chemistry on my part and lack of balls on his. For serious.

**Ok, and maybe a little because he's short. OKAY and I think I outweigh him. I never said I wasn't shallow.

Anyway, SG and I are cordial whenever we see each other, he is often very gracious with candy as well. Lately, though, he's intimated something a leetle more than friendship. The last time I saw him, in person, he mentioned his upcoming birthday celebration and hinted that I should come. I figured he'd just been making small talk and promptly forgot about it. After all, our entire beginning had been built on fake invitations.

True story: he invited me to church once. CHURCH. I agreed at first but chickened out so my inner heathen wouldn't show. He also invited me to go running with him. RUNNING. I laughed in his face.

Back to the story. When I actually wished him a happy birthday via text, he texted back with something along the lines of "we should hang out sometime." I forgot what I said but it wasn't "yes we should."

So today, I'm hanging out with TC, flipping through some program and SG's name and middle initial, "C," is under the Honor Roll list (I know, he's smart. Reason #44395 why I don't want him...that's sad...). Feeling jokey and in girlish high-spirits, I texted SG, "is your middle name Charles?" I thought he at a track meet and didn't expect him to respond, but he did, with "blah blah yes it's Charles how did you know blah blah I'm going to the party tomorrow you should come with me :-)."

Pause, sir.

This is totally not his fault or anything but he is two whole years late. I'm completely not interested and this fool wants to come knocking on my doorstep. First the Smoker and now this. If the Runner Facebooks me tomorrow asking me to go mini-golfing or something I will honestly blow my brains out and call it a day. Timing, you are an elusive bitch and the truth ain't in you. And of course the one I really would welcome back with open arms, Tex, is nowhere to be found.

Oh my giddy-God what shall I do? I don't want to lead SG on, I tried to ignore his advances without outright saying "no" because he's such a nice guy--a puppy, really--but I hope against hope this won't get out of hand...ordinarily I wouldn't care and let my powers of avoidance run their course but TC's party is Saturday... and a college party is no good to try and behave yourself especially when there's liquor present that I surely will be drinking because this is too much, Lord.

I try to move forward but the past keeps a-tryin' to pull me back. Absolutely not!

School Blues

2009-04-12T00:33:00.003-04:00

I finally made it home, yippee!

My sisters' reactions were exactly as I'd hoped they would be: "AAAHHH [LUCCKKKKEEEEEE'S] HOME!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOOOOOOOING HEEEEEERE?!!!?!?!?"

Last night, we ordered pizza, went to Blockbuster's, and I watched the Pistons. Perfect. Today I stayed in bed until 3 and read a Nora Roberts novel in the bathtub, watched the Pistons again.Now, watching "In the Land of Women" (it's a Seth Cohen thing, except it's not) and trying to start on a paper. Homework followed me here.

Which brings me to my point.

I'm really worried about my grades. In the cocoon of school, especially a liberal-arts one like mine, everyone seems to adopt a freer mindset about school and grades, looking past transcripts and credits and into the horizon of Real Life, where in just a few years (or just one year, yay me!) those things won't matter. Especially me, being a journalism major, getting a master's degree isn't the key to success in the field. I don't even know if I'm going to grad school yet. All this to say, though, that breaking a grade-grubbing mentality 16 years in the making was hard but still rears its ugly head whenever I come home and my sisters' report cards are taped to the refrigerator. Where mine used to me.

My point is, I like not caring about my grades, but I don't like the grades that come as a result of that mindset. Rephrasing: I don't want my parents to flip out over my transcripts. Which they will, if I don't get my act together. Explaining the aforementioned rationale to them is not an option: a) I doubt they'll be convinced 2) they still have two daughters to put through the educational system and therefore need to set a good example. And also, deep down, I think I know I'm not putting my best foot forward, either that or I'll have to accept that not having straight As isn't (always) a result of me trying hard enough.

For the record, I'm not failing out of school or anything. I just might get all B's. Which to me is the same thing.

The whole semester I never really felt any "connection" with the readings, and my teacher was all about "drawing your own conclusions" about the work and "exploring what resonated with you" and that's just not my style. I like to read a piece or an author, discuss it in class, and regurgitate it all for a midterm paper and a final paper. Sad, but true, that's just how my mind works. This whole "what do you think is the most important part of the book" or "how does this book translate into your life?" is not my cup of tea. Plus, I liked maybe two of the seven? books we had to read, so I'd be mentally checked out other than discussing the major themes of the plotline.

It sounds like I'm making excuses or justifying why I couldn't pay attention in class. I think I am. I'm glad to be done with grades soon. But until then I need to get my grades in order, quick.

I meant to write this to say that the end of the year is coming and I need to knock out a few outstanding papers and I started writing one and I just...cannot. I don't know what to write about, I didn't care for any of the books I actually made it through...I'm having writer's block at the most inconvient time for blockage. Academic writing, I quit you.

Blogging, I inted to keep you around forever.

Going Nowhere

2009-04-10T10:40:00.000-04:00

I am being held prisoner in the world's busiest airport.

This morning, I actually tried to catch a 7am flight (standby, bitches) but it was full when I finally got up to the counter out of breath and sweaty. I cannot tell you the obstacles I had to overcome to fnally stumble to that gate, all for naught. I think I actually lost consciousness for a second when the guy said 'we're full." I wanted to collapse, spread-eagle in front of gate D21 and catch my breath/contemplate life, but somehow I did not.

My original flight was at 9:30am so I just chilled with my blackberry. However. That was oh, three hours ago as my flight has been delayed, mangled, chopped, screwed, thrown around and drop-kicked through the mud. I have no clue what's going on, let alone whether or not I'll make my connecting flight (somehow, I doubt it but hey).

I've found ways to amuse myself, of course. I assess people's traveling habits: comfortable in sweatpants vs. Stomping through the terminal in high heels and tight tops (stupid). People who piss and moan about the delays vs. Those who play amusing games such as this one to pass the time. I've seen the same cute airport worker push a massive trash can back and forth like eight times. Also seen many seating changes--some folks really cannot sit still. I want to say "dude the plane's not here standing in like will not make her come faster." I was saving a seat for this girl but the woman who came to take it looks like she's fought folks way bigger than me so I kept my mouth shut.

From my seat, I look at people's shoes, traveling companions, food choices, and have listened to the bartender across the aisle keep customers happy (she has a weird voice though). Speaking of, I could use a drink. It's 5pm somewhere and I've been through a lot today. Damn not being 21 yet.

This gate agents are totally incoherent. I'm sure they mean well and Southern State's tornado watch has not made their job easier but they are the Three Stooges.

Trying not to fall asleep and save my nap for the plane-if we ever get on it-but I'm exhausto. Plus I don't want to miss any of the changes that are bound to occur the second I close my eyes.

And the worst part is having no one to yuk it up with...I've been sitting in damn near silence for like three hours! But blogosphere (and twitter) you are here. Here you are. Never leave me.

Family Ties

2009-04-08T01:49:00.008-04:00

This procrastination thing is really, really cool. You get to catch up on blogs, youtube if you're rebellious, check your transcripts, eat, watch a little TV, and reflect on life, all while your homework (and WARM COZY BED) waits patiently for your return.

Anyway, I have two younger sisters. We all look eerily alike. Middle Sister and I are quite different, though, as I've noticed (Plus, ohmigod, she's going to prom this year. We're three years apart. I am a geezer). Anyway, while these differences can sometimes be quite pronounced. She thinks Plies is cute. I do not (have you SEEN him? Ew. Never would I ever). She likes Cooler Ranch Doritos (blue bag), I like Classic (red bag). She's way more popular in high school than I ever was (even though, it must be said, my fewer friends were of better quality than her many acquaintances). She will have a date to prom. I did not.

That last one deserves a little exploration.

I didn't mind not having a date. I actually didn't even care until I noticed five people--an odd number--piling into the limo. My mother, however, was comically disturbed that I had to buy a single ticket. Well, there was nothing comical about the argument that ensued when she realized that not only was I dateless, but also not combing the dregs of my high school to find one. Yes, the boys that inhabited my high school were dreg-worthy, certainnly not date-worthy. She thought I was going dateless to spite her. I told her there was precious little I could do if no one asked to escort me to prom and it didn't bother me enough to go out and find one myself. And to this day I still can't imagine who I would've gone to prom with. So I figure it was meant to be. However, I also hope against hope that one's prom date isn't any indicator, of, like, who she's going to end up with later in life or anything, because then I am, to coin a phrase, ass-out.

But I have digressed.

When it comes to Middle Sister, I am pleasantly surprised to find that on some things, her and I are hilariously alike. Behold the rare similarities between the proverbial sisters Bookworm (me) and the Social Butterfly (her):

-Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Both of my sisters are picky eaters. I am not. But we could both live for days at a time on PB&Js. During the summer, we probably have.

-Rush Hour 2. Every time we head to a family function, I have this DVD in my purse so that when things get boring we can sneak into a bedroom and watch the antics of Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan. Seriously, me and her will sit and roar with laughter watching RH2. And "Rush Hour 3," come to think of it. Oh, and "Clueless." We grew up with that movie.

-Impressions. My comedy turnover ratio is about 60 percent, meaning that out of 10 things I think/say are funny, only six of them actually are. However, MS and I sit in the kitchen and recall events and imitate its characters for hours. It's how we bond. The same thing applies with movie lines--our quote battles are legendary.

Although I wouldn't be surprised if the aforementioned things were all MS and I have in common, obviously we like having each other around, if only simply for comedic purposes. Yes, she gets on my last nerves sometimes and I want to give her a good [bitchslap] pinch, she has my back and I have hers.

She still steals my clothes though. That's a trait 17 years in the making.

Basketball and Campy TV

2009-04-05T02:45:00.005-04:00

All is well al momento. Ms. Politics and I actually ended up going to the game. Shimmy shimmy cocoa puff, shimmy shimmy OWW!

Never mind that I had to practically chase Ad Guy around campus and it took three--count them: me, Music Lover, and Top Chef--to execute this search-and-rescue mission for those damn tickets. Never mind.

After a day of shopping with Dr. Argentina and Cali Girl, Ms. P and I drove our arses downtown and took in the basketball game, people-watched (a specialty of mine), theorized about life, took pictures, got lost...you know, the usual.

Great Saturday. And Al and I are as deeply in love as ever, thanks for asking.

Am now indulging in my show du jour, The OC.** I know, right? Similar to the storied allegiances to either Prince or Michael Jackson or Nas or Jay-Z, TV watchers usually fall into one of two camps: One Tree Hill vs. The OC. (Except for Cali Girl, she likes both. But she [is a loser who] also entertains shows like The Gastineau Girls and that one about the Kardashians). As for me, Lucas, Peyton, and Naley rule my heart, until CG made me borrow her Season 1 DVD of the OC, which I reluctantly watched.

**Does anyone else watch?

Horror of horrors, my heart now belongs to Seth Cohen. He's quirky, smart, and he loves the holidays like I love the holidays. Which is a lot.

In the same vein, I hate that skinny heifer Marissa Cooper. I usually loathe blonde leading ladies on TV: Peyton Sawyer (sometimes), Serena van der Woodsen, and don't get me started on that whiny-ass Meredith Grey. YICK. Marissa is no different. I hate her.

But anyway.

The first season has held my interest for the last two weeks, hopefully the next season won't disappoint. If it does, I'm so going back to One Tree Hill.

Hoop Dreams Deferred

2009-04-03T00:55:00.004-04:00

Working with men is exhausting. You have to stroke their egos, display the right amount of power and docility, easygoing-ness and firmness to get anything accomplished. Try as I might, I never get that formula right.

The Paper gets free tickets to NBA games through the Ad Guy. There are no rules or entitlement, if you want them, you ask for them. I was originally going to see the team take on the mighty (?) Pistons, but we left for spring break that day so I had to forfeit them. 'Twas sad. I decided to get the team vs. the San Antonio Spurs, so I texted Ad Guy, asking him to bring the tickets to our weekly meeting. I get no answer from him. I miss the game.

Next week he says that those tickets were unavailable anyway. Wondering why he couldn't have relayed this in a responding text, I say, "oh, okay, well, I'll take this weekend's tickets against the Orlando Magic." These tickets are also the last of the package. He agrees to bring them to me. I even told him that I had planned to take a date** to the game, which meant, thus and such, my love life depended on him bringing the tickets to me on Thursday (yesterday) because I don't come to campus on Fridays. He concedes, stoically (seriously, would it kill this guy to crack a smile?).

**Not technically a lie, since I was going with Ms. Politics. She has been my date on many a weekend.

Thursday comes, I text Ad Guy. No answer. I call him (well, I have Artist Friend call him from my phone--I think I annoy him with my generally upbeat nature). His phone goes straight to voicemail. He is not known to [show consideration/human emotion] return my texts or calls. It is early Friday morning. The game is on Saturday. The game to which I have no tickets. The game, it is probably safe to say, I will not be attending. No Al Horford sighting for me.

What fresh hell is with guys ruining my Saturday night plans?!

As far as Ad Guy knows, my hot date is now ruined. And on top of that, both of these times, I've taken off work to attend these basketball games. So not only is Ad Guy messing up my (ahem, still very fictional) love life, but he is costing me money!

And we can't have that. Not in this recession, baby.

Not to throw a pity party, but THIS IS TOTALLY UNFAIR. The other two sports editors got to go to games, why do I always get the short end of life's stick?

Next week, if I must say anything to Ad Guy, it will be in a "dignity at all times" sort of way. Maybe even in a "my date still put out SO THERE" sort of way. I honestly keep forgetting that I didn't have an actual date in the first place.

Semantics, really. It's the principle that counts.

Love Thy Neighbor

2009-04-03T00:43:00.002-04:00

Right on and hallelujah.

Where to Think

2009-03-30T23:37:00.003-04:00

I have a knack for the mundane. Filing, stapling, separating; it's no problem for me. The same can almost be said about domestic chores like ironing, washing dishes, sweeping, except that I'm too lazy to do it on a regular basis. On a similar note, you will rarely find me complaining about something I have to sit through or attend. One, I hate complainers. Also, I'm of a generally sunny disposition (well, I used to be. I'm working on it, though).

The reason I'm good at mindless duties or boring situations is because of my active imagination and overworking mind. I am a daydreamer. I ruminate, ponder, theorize. I also remember. The interesting thing is, I remember uncomfortable things. Fights I've had or dumb things I've done can play and replay in my mind over and over, when my mind wanders.

Which, as you can see, is often. Actually, I really only do it if I'm ironing or in the shower. Since I rarely iron and only do so when I'm running late and realize once and for all that my shirt can't be worn as is, this isn't an issue. But, the shower? It's supposed to be relaxing. I could be thinking of fun things to be doing in said shower (hello like SINGING), but nooo, I replay past indiscretions. And then instead of feeling all clean and shiny I feel a little bad about whatever it was that happened. Even if it was like two years ago. Is this weird?

Does anybody else have deep thoughts in the shower? Or does the extent of your brainpower go to "did I shave my legs already?" If not the shower, then, tell me, where is your thinking place?

Fifth Row, Center

2009-03-28T18:34:00.005-04:00

Could you imagine a one night only concert, nay, stadium show, featuring

Duffy,

Adele,

and the one and ONLY Amy Jade Winehouse?

In my head, I've already bought tickets.

I'll Look Forever if I Have To

2009-03-24T02:09:00.006-04:00

Those of you who've been around tGitG for awhile may remember last spring, when things just weren't going my way. I butted heads with friends, school, and guys. I used to have "good days" and "bad days," often in back-to-back succession.

It's about that time again, and while certain things have tried to reappear, I am making a conscious effort to feel better, do better, and be better. I really do think that your attitude determines the outcome of your life, and believe even more in learning from your mistakes and past experiences.

Last year I just felt like I was at the bottom of this dark, funky pit...I'd try to get out but something would drop-kick me right back down into it. I went through so many emotions on almost a daily basis, but one I remember most vividly, more than the helplessness or the loneliness, was the fear. The bottom of that pit was one of the scariest places I have ever been in my life. There was this fear that I would always be down there or that no one could or would pull me out. But one of the best things that happened was that *I* managed to pull my own self out. And when I say that I mean that I let myself be pulled out with support from a few lifesaving people (you know who you are!) and God.

Looking back at my state of mind last spring, I promised myself that I would do whatever it took to gear my life so that I wouldn't ever go back to that pit again. And for the most part, it works. But the calendar goes by and I start to measure my "progress" in all areas of life, I do feel a little bit of anxiety that things will start to go wrong again. I feel somewhat content, but I remember feeling the same contentment last year, just before things got rocky. I also feel like something's missing in my life right now, and I distinctly remember feeling this way last year, so needless to say, I'm tripped out about that as well: The Smoker came in around this time and he was supposed to fill that void and we know how that turned out. I'm having the same feelings but I don't want the same results. I can't go back there. I just...cannot.

So I'd be lying if I said I'm not slightly unsettled by anything that seems to be a repeat or remnant from that time in my life. I feel like I'm just floating on by, and sometimes I welcome numbness because it's better than sadness. I'm a little afraid, but even more, I'm afraid of being just "there," of settling, of being the person who could have had so much more. I want to be happy. The search for happiness, however, doesn't daunt me. Instead, I feel like I'm going to have fun searching for happiness. Where does one start looking for happiness?

Restored via Phone

2009-03-22T01:22:00.004-04:00

It's amazing what a girly phone chat with your best friend can do to lift the spirits. Just thought I'd say.

Oh yeah, guess what? Tex has a GIRLFRIEND.

I found (via that damned Facebook) while I was on the phone with BFF. I looked at a few photos of them together and subsequently started whining, mid-conversation, about "the bad decisions and failures that are my liiiiiiiifffeee." BFF, no stranger to my "woe is me, I am single" ranting, wisely ignored me until I was through. And for that I love her.

Le sigh. Table for one, please. But I am trying to get my life right so maybe it's best that I go this one alone...plus, let's be honest, I don't have time to get through a whole magazine in one sitting and I'm pretty sure that if I had a boy at this moment he would get lost somewhere between my full dishwasher and carful of shoes.

Girl Seeking Books

2009-03-21T02:04:00.006-04:00

A double-post! Go me.

One of the ironic things about being an English major is that you don't have time to read for pleasure anymore. Seriously. The highlight of my week was looking up interesting book titles on Amazon.com and reading the blurbs and reviews. La-ame. And when/if you actually do have time to read for leisure, your brain is so tired from all that academic mumbo-jumbo that all you want to re-read is Confessions of a Shopaholic for the 43rd time. My mom laments [talks shit] that I read literary junk food all the time, but in my defense, I read Of Mice and Men, The Scarlet Letter, and To Kill a Mockingbird all before I reached middle school.

I may have peaked.

Anyway, I need something in between, you know? Something a little more highbrow than Size 12 is Not Fat (don't hate) but that's not too heavy. Bonus points if it's a British book: they're funny. And must, MUST have a traditional plotline. No Toni Morrison. I like linear novels. Stories. Give me your basic rising action, climax, falling action, denouement structure. With preferably a love scene thrown in for good measure. Also, and this is a recent development, black characters preferred.

This is the fly in the pudding. See, I like chick-lit (again, don't hate). However, love it though I do, all of the plucky, earnest characters in said chick-lit seem to be lacking melanin. Pre-HBCU, this would not have bothered me. Now, it does. When I finally came across a black historical romance novel, I freaked out in the middle of Borders.

I'm not saying that there are no books for black women, because one, DUH that's a lie. But what I'm having a hard time finding are, say the black version of Jennifer Weiner or Meg Cabot. Stories (of quality) about contemporary, middle-class, educated black females like myself. Like a novel about a Vanessa Huxtable-type gal.

So, suggestions, anyone, on some quality literary stimulation? Maybe I just don't know where to look, point me in the right direction! And ok, they don't just have to be FUBU reading (For Us By Us, if you don't remember that horrid satortical phase); any good, moderately-easy to get through novels will do.

As if I'll have time to read them.

PS-had another internet run-in with The Smoker that I would've mentioned had it been productive/interesting, but I shan't even waste space because he has proved, once again in stunning fashion, to be a major asshat. It's my fault for [starting?] entertaining it, but damn! He is the king of Home Depot (ie, a tool). How do you forget someone who won't stay gone?

Cheers...or Not

2009-03-21T01:39:00.005-04:00

After chuckling merrily at Vittoria's epic tale of Andre-themed debauchery, I fully intended to comment, but length of said comment was enough to warrant an actual post of my own.

Vittoria's story included chicken and champagne. I think I can do her almost one better: Mine includes Doritos and tequila.

It was Spring Break.

Advice: don't kill a full bag of Doritos and then do numerous shots of tequila (Tequila? Yep, it was tequila. And I'm sure other things but mostly...tequila). Were they "numerous" in the ordinary sense? Um, no.

See, earlier in the day we went to an arcade and I of course completely rocked at Skee-Ball and therefore accumulated lots of tickets and when I went to turn 'em in for the prize, I came across these little plastic cups. Cups that, I thought, looked too small to be considered actual shot glasses, and so it stood to reason that I get two instead of one.

Do you see the impending problem? A few drinks later, my thought process (I imagine) went as follows: since the one maybe-shot glass looks like half of a real shot, DUH must then drink double.

Multiply the term "let's do a shot" by two, repeat within an average pre-gaming time frame, and what you will then have on your hands is a catastrophe. And frankly, Doritos-flavored vomitus. In a club. In a ladies' room sink.

The rest is a history which I shan't repeat here. I mean, it really isn't BAD in the grand scheme of things (I returned with all of my clothes, which is a plus) but, well, a) it's all a blur, and more importantly 2) it's mortifyingly mortifying. Like, waking up the next morning in the fetal position under the covers yelling internally "what the hell was I thinking this is not the Bad Girls' Club oh God I won't have any friends left yecch my stomach hurts I need Jesus"-mortifying.

I'm no one's prude or anything but that night put me off libations for...the time being. Except Fuzzy Navels. And even those might have to wait awhile...plus, ok, the next time we went out, I was totally sober and I met that boy. SIGN.

PS-If you meet a boy on a vacation from which you are leaving the next day and never hear from him again and he doesn't have Facebook, does he even exist??

I Need a Hero

2009-03-17T21:42:00.002-04:00

One glance at this video and I was rendered speechless.

I gotta apologize to you guys. One, for neglecting the blog as of late. Two, I feel like I cheated you out of a spring break post, but I don't/didn't know where to start. So, if you have any questions about what went down in the Beach of Myrtle, feel free to ask away. I work better that way.

I'm trying to get my grades where I want them, which unfortunately is taking up most of my attention, so that's why I've been MIA. Can't knock someone for trying to get a little edu-ma-cation, can you? Can you??? Well. Think happy scholarly thoughts for me. I'll try to post more often. They might be little boring-ish blurbs, but hey. Progress is a slow process, kids.

Spring Break Leftovers

2009-03-15T18:46:00.006-04:00

Back in Southern State and detoxing from partying and junk food. Overall a crazy-fun trip; I miss the beach already!

But yay for sand between my toes.

On the last night, we went out to a club to celebrate [drink the rest of the liquor--not me though!] and I met a guy. Shocker, right?

Sistah Girl, Cali Girl, Ms. Politics, and I were walking back from the bar--empty-handed, those bitches didn't yell "Last Call"--when this tall dude cut me off and introduced himself. We chatted for two seconds, he was nice enough, and he asked for my number. I didn't have my phone so he took mine. I was flattered but chalked it up to life and spring break--he's a local, after all, and we were leaving the next day. But he did call and we ended up texting the rest of the night. And a little the next day, during the six-hour road trip. Haven't heard from him since yesterday, but again, it's not like I'll be going back to Myrtle Beach anytime soon so if anything, it's a good ego boost. He thinks I'm gorgeous, dontcha know.

Lessoned Learned

2009-03-12T04:43:00.002-04:00

Consider this the point in the college career where I decide never to drink again because as a result I may lose all of my friends after making a complete ass of myself at a club on spring break and being made to feel/feeling absolutely horrible about it.

Don't know what else to say. Stories of "drinking with pals" gone bad would rreeeeeaaalllyyyy help me from feeling like complete shit right about now. Thanks in advance.

Mama Said it Would be Days Like This

2009-03-06T23:43:00.003-05:00

While [on Facebook] trying to finish another midterm I saw that The Smoker was online. When I saw his name the first thing I thought was "I think I hate him..."

Then, That Boy got on. I Blackberry'd Mr. GQ and he was all for FB chatting him. Torn, I turned to the trusty radio game. I asked "Should I FB chat him?" R. Kelly's "Bump and Grind" came on.

This can't be life.

But I chatted him up. Um, he didn't respond.

For real, though, life cannot be this way.

I have got too many damn love/sex/slow jam songs on my Itunes. That must be it. Now I must go slink back over to Facebook and log off.

Update: oh, never mind. He responded and I didn't see. *oops my bad-type giggle*

Honestly. I talk shit about my friend Mr. GQ being melodramatic as all get out but truth be told I'm the one having Dramatic Cunt Fallouts at the first sign of disorder and then have to backtrack and call off the hounds later.

He's not saying much...I mean, he is but he ain't, if you know what I mean...like he's...dry...maybe he's just quiet. Oh hell I can't do quiet boys because I seem loud in comparison which I am sure is grating. Oh, no. He just wrote that he doesn't really drink. We have a man down affair.

I...don't think this is working. Maybe it's the medium but our conversation feels very forced. Or maybe someone has a slow computer connection. Facebook caking/caking in general used to be fun and now it's too much work like there's too much at stake, too much to read into.

Update: end conversation. I don't see anything becoming of this, especially if I have to keep initiating contact. At best he just doesn't like talking via Internets, at worst he's not a conversationalist/not into me at all/thinks I'm an alcoholic. He hardly asked any questions; it was like pulling teeth and I got a dual-degree in Pimpology and Hustlemonics, not Dentistry (gross. As if). Methinks I'm over it.

Can someone find me a mail-order husband?

The List That Wasn't

2009-03-06T16:14:00.003-05:00

I am [watching Why Did I Get Married] completing my midterm and started thinking about this 80-20 business. If I had to narrow it down to 10 things I need in a man it would be

1. Be nice to me.

2. ...

Oh hell, I dunno. Complain though I might, I honestly can't imagine a man taking up my lifespace at this point. I have so many other things to think about that I can't come up with anything that would allow me to allow a man to get a slice of my life pie chart. Weird...

Or I could just be too lazy and worn from this week to come up with anything [other than a strong desire to make out] more concrete.

Spring break starts tomorrow, yippee!

Two Steps Back

2009-03-03T22:16:00.008-05:00

True story: I was groggy from a nap and I turned on RuPaul's Drag Race...it gave me so much life that I am wide awake and ready to do homework.

Last Monday, I got a random Facebook message from The Smoker...followed by Facebook chat, text, and call--all within an hour. The gist of his argument was that he's changed ("maybe I wasn't as honest as I should have been") and it ended with him asking for the pleasure of my company for drinks on Saturday. I give him a hard time but finally concede.

"This isn't gonna be like last time," I say. "I'm not chasing you, if you want to do something, you set it up." He agrees, but I know he thinks I will text/call/initiate contact. Ah, but 'tis a fool who thinks that I didn't learn something from last time. And I stick to my word: no textual activity otherwise comes from me. None comes from him either.

I run into him on Thursday, slightly witty banter ensues, nothing more.

Saturday rolls around. I'm shopping with Cali Girl and Ms. Politics for our upcoming spring break trip in a mall way out in Tourist-ville. I give this boy until 7pm, then, shit, I need to know if we need to leave or if we can go out to dinner. So I cave in and text him, he responds quickly: "Who is this?"

Oh, honey, you tried to bullshit a bullshitter. Now I know you have your phone on your person and are fully capable of receiving and sending text messages.

I text back that it's me and I'm just trying to see if we're still on for tonight.

Here's the funny part, guys: NO ANSWER. It is now Tuesday evening and not a word. Did I scare him into reneging with our 3.5 minutes of chatting on Thursday? Erroneous either way. A leopard doesn't change his spots, I guess.

I knew to keep my guard up this time, so more instead of feeling hurt or betrayed or whatever, I'm slightly irritated that he entered my lifespace and dangled a free meal in front of me. But I am wondering, what was your purpose, then? You had to fuck with my head just as you were about to fade into mental obscurity, or something? Oh, and just for bonus points, let's do this right around the time when I'm already majorly stressing about midterms, spring break, and have my sights set on a boy who has ACTUALLY BEEN DECENT TO ME.**

**Speaking of which, me and That Boy passed each other on campus today and even though he was on the phone he said hi...the whole exchange dripped with niceness and recognition from him [and uncontrollable fire and desire from me]. God he is so cute.

My first thought was to call him and cuss him the hell out just for his presence on this Earth. But my good buddy Chicago Jay wisely talked me out of it. Barely.

Disgusted

2009-03-01T17:20:00.001-05:00

Just know that I am seriously considering a Fuck Niggas Get Money tattoo.

It's been that kind of week.

I Even Made the Bed this Morning

2009-02-24T14:06:00.005-05:00

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!

2009-02-24T01:43:00.005-05:00

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.

An Eventful Saturday

2009-02-22T01:54:00.008-05:00

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.

Covert Ops

2009-02-19T22:44:00.005-05:00

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.