Summer Thoughts

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!

Where Do You Fall?

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...

Transformers 2: A Study

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.

Girl Seeking Books

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?

Pre-Holiday Rambling

Grievances:

-Sometimes you are a selfish brat who deserves a good, hard, pinch.
-Please, just...be quiet and let me do me.
-You did that just to fuck with me, didn't you? You smarmy, hateful bastard, you.
-We take you for granted and kind of treat you bad, but I love you more than words can say.

Okay. Glad THAT's over with. Because today was a good day and airing out my grievances is just a small part of it. Let's see...Youngest Sister, my mom, and I got our hair done today which...took awhile. Freshly blow-dried, my hair takes on an unfortunate mullet personality. Also, I realized all of my jeans are about a size too big. They were loose even before I lost five pounds--which, by some Christmas miracle, I totally did--because I have a habit of buying clothes, especially pants, a leeetle too big. They fit adequately in the store, then as I wear and wear and wear them, they start to droop and get baggy. Like, there is one pair I can put on without unbuttoning them. Jeans are supposed to be a bit tight when you try them on 'cause they stretch, but because I have a fear of Dunlap's disease, when I try on a pair of pants I suddenly get a whatiftheyshrinkandIlooklikeasausage panic attack and go up a size, which means I have a closet full saggy jeans. The next time I go to Old Navy I'm going to have to force myself to get a pair that fits fits. Clearly my issues extend far and wide, even into purchasing denim. This is why I like sweatpants.

Perhaps I lost those five pounds trekking through the neighborhood [ok, I took Precious the dog for a walk last week], which is less like a friendly subdivision and more like evil, mountaneous, snowy terrain these days. It won't stop snowing! It has snowed every day since Thursday night--which makes driving or walking outside a nice [dangerous and kind of scary] adventure worthy of only my Ugg boots as suitable footwear. But secretly, it's kind of fun to walk/lunge/jump/stomp through 2 feet of snow. Plus, it's so pretty outside, from the warmth of a house, to look out and see houses lit up against the fluffy white backdrop like a snowglobe.

A few weeks ago, I guess my dad started reading Magic Johnson's book about how he makes his money (here's the key, people: ownership. Think big.) and really liked it. Dad's always been a Magic fan--they were even at Michigan State together (at the signing, Magic had on a MSU sweatshirt). This evening, Dad and I braved the snow and went to Barnes and Noble where No. 32 himself was signing books. Well, the newspaper said he'd only sign books, but Magic was such a good sport that he signed shirts, magazines, basketballs, etc--seriously, some people had like 12 books, and Magic signed them all. I told him I was a Sports Journalism major, and he was impressed (like every other male is when I tell them that) and he posed for a picture with Dad and I. It was funny because both him and Dad are super-tall so I stood in the middle. He's cool people--add him next to Mark Texiera (how about those Yankees?), Gayle Sayers, and Joe Torre on the list of Really Nice Sports Guys. And yes, I am name-dropping. Deal with it.

Sidebar: a lot of people were wearing Pistons gear like, "especially" to meet Magic, and I was just thinking, um why? It's not like he played for Detroit. And I mean, come on, Pistons vs Lakers is a CLASSIC rivalry. Derr.

Speaking of the Pistons, I cannot effing wait to go to the game. If I think about it too much I'll pass out from excitement. Even though they have work to do in this nasty transition period. But here is the mark of a true fan: you don't disappear when things get tough. And right now, things are tough.

Sidebar: I'm watching the Pistons game right now (we won, thank God), but why does the camera follow a player until RIGHT before he takes his jersey off as he heads into the locker room? Just to mess with us, that's why.

Last night, I stayed up until 5am browsing shirts, jackets, underwear, nightgowns, and jewelry that I can't exactly afford at the moment. Why I torture myself, I have no idea. I actually kind of hate buying clothes, to be truthful. I think I might start buying clothes online and get the twofold bonus of a) saving myself a headache and 2) getting packages in the mail. The idea of clothes makes me happy but I am soooo not a fashion girl. I'd rather buy books, makeup, bargain bin DVDs, or, um, food. Oooooh...food...like bubble tea and chocolate cake, yum...

In case you haven't noticed, I'm going through a bit of a snit with my writing (the snit being that I think it sucks) so we'll just have to make do with these posts until I Find Myself. I think I've been lost for awhile.

I Don't Even Have Leftovers

I meant to "post" yesterday from the Almighty Blackberry, but, well, you know how it is. My thumbs can only take so much. We're on official Computer Watch..it's supposed to be ready soon...it better be; I have final exams coming up. Cyber-yell at Geeksquad for me.

I kind of like finals and midterm time- it means we're about to get a break of some sort, hallelujah!

Ok, typing really does suck so only a few things to be elaborated upon later:

Thanksgiv: I ate a frozen turkey pot pie on the couch, read novels, and watched football. No, I didn't leave the house or put on a bra the entire day. Don't feel sorry for me, though. I'm going home soon..

Speaking of football, I am thankful, nay, eternally grateful for wonderfully muscle-y arms poking out under football jerseys.

Books: "Zane" is supposed to be this hot, steamy novelist, but I read 2 of hers today and was left staring-at-the- ceiling-afterwards unsatisfied. In one of them, after this cute love story, right before the wedding the girl DIES! After I read the word "murder" I was done. I threw the book against the couch and actually said, "Oh HELLS no, I rebuke that!" So I don't know the actual ending..

I am on a book fetish (even more than usual) but nothing seems to really pull me in. A dry spell, of sorts. It's like looking in a full closet with nothing to wear: I have tons of books with nothing to read. And no computer.

I think I may be a little grumpy. A thousand pardons. Hopefully good news...oh! I finally sucked it up and got my cartilage/upper ear pierced on Tuesday! I did it, yall, I'm not just all talk! It hurt my wallet more than it hurt my actual ear, though. Still, it's cute! Details later, can't wait to surprise Mom and Dad. Especially after the fake tattoo fiasco, which was kind of, well...oh, dear...

Bear with Me, My Mind is a Jungle

Yummy. Pretzels are good. I've been around the world (not) and the best pretzies ever still come in the blue bag at the titian shopping emporium that is CVS.

Left TV Station early, to, apparently, my own detriment. As soon as my ride arrived is when there was actually semblance of an assignment. But I wasn't about to waste all that gas, so I departed. But tomorrow (well, the next time I go back, Wednesday), is a new day. Funny-ish: today a woman was named the new GM of the station and on her tour of the station, she came up behind me while I was on Gawker.com. Oops. Hopefully my non-work wasn't too evident, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was. Because such is my life.

Got into nice, petty little squabbles with various family members almost back-to-back; contemplated over and over the joys of living alone. Had to hide in the basement with a movie and my laptop for solace, along with my beloved pretzels, que claro.

While on the quest for those deliciously salty snacky-snacks, I narrowly avoided a collision in the CVS parking lot. For once a near-accident wasn't my fault! I had to honk my horn, which, even against the rudest of drivers, I never do. It was that serious, y'all.

Question: does Lord Voldemort ever have to go to the bathroom? I can't imagine him thumbing through Entertainment Weekly while, you know, peeing. Oh, wait, boys stand up, don't they? But what about...well, never mind. Also, how come there's never any mention of showering or daily ablutions in the HP septology (pretty sure I made that term up)? Hmm. Golly I love that Ron Weasley.

Over the weekend, I discovered that I suck at all things financial. After buying a (really cute) top and undies from Forever 21, I mentally calculated my expenditures and nearly fell out. I tried to prioritize my purchases, but, um, epic fail. It was supposed to go (in order of importance):

-Clothes
-...shit, I forgot the order already. I guess that's my problem. Well, I know food was at the bottom of the list and makeup, nail polish, and underwear was somewhere in between. But I am weak in the face of pretzels, the shirt was in a truly majestic leopard print, and the undies were on sale for 99 CENTS. What would YOU have done?

Yes, I am Complaining...but it's My Blog

It seems as if everything is bugging me/driving me up the wall. Everything is a pet-peeve. I can't stop thinking about things that trouble me or make me upset. Lately, even things like race relations, gay rights, self-reflection, and the environment have been on my mind.

Usually I counter these thoughts with singing (loudly) and favorite movie scenes and the like, but it's tiring. I really think it's a result of stress. Not even that I'm stressed I'm just tired. I almost flat-out refused to go to TV Station today. I want to sleep in. I want to read trashy novels and drink cherry Slurpees by the gallon (make that a Passion Fruit Bubble Tea) and go swimming and watch marathons and expand my DVD collection. You know, things you're supposed to do in the summertime. I mean, yes, the money and experience will be worth it and I really am grateful for these opportunities, and I enjoy myself usually and if the situations were reversed I'd wish I had a job and two internships, but I need a breather. And what's the point of making money if you're so stingy with your off-hours that you won't consider leaving the house if you don't have to?

Consider this: I have not been on Dlisted ALL DAY. That just should not happen.

I know, I know, it's called being an adult. Call me a spoiled freeloader. But I have the rest of my life to be an adult, and consequently, the window of being able to be a spoiled freeloader is getting smaller and smaller as I get older. I promise I will become a responsible, productive, tax-paying contributor to society when I "have" to. For now, though, if it's okay, I'd really just like to go swimming.

Surprise, Surprise

Being in the media does have its perks. A few of the interns may be covering a Cool Music Event in July (of course I don't want to jinx it, as is my way). I'm excited. I spent the entire day researching bands. And by that I mean going on endless Myspace searches and whatnot. A lot of the music sounded the same, but I did find a few lil' gems that made their way onto my iTunes, and consequently, into my heart. I found a cover of RiRi's "Umbrella," a song called "She's a Lady," which I like, and an act named Jeffree Star, who I'm pretty sure is a tranny. And you know me, I love anything drag, so between that and the pink hair, I was hooked.

I want a new book from the library but the last time I went and managed to stall some more, the lady at the desk blacklisted me. Now I can't check out any more items until I pay my outstanding fine. I mean, honestly. The library policy is that you're allowed to check out books with a fine under $15 (without getting harassed for it, either!). They used to not even tell you that you had a fine, thus allowing the amount owed to get bigger and bigger. Which is how I got into this mess in the first place.

When I told my dad that Amy Winehouse is set to perform at Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday, he made me pull her up online, so of course I showed him the Valerie video. He was impressed, but did ask if that was her look or was she "just having a bad hair day?" Oh, Dad.

Oh, it's raining. Cats and doggy-style. Time to go cuddle up. Any takers or will it be me and Harry Potter?

"She's a Lady" by Forever the Sickest Kids

I'm in love with a girl I hate,
She enjoys pointing out
Every bad thing about me
I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic.
A traitor,
I'd trade her in a second

She's a backseat driver,
A drama provider,
An instant update of the world
Shes a first class liar,
A constant forgetter
(She's attractive, but bitter)

Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby,
Don't return to me,
If you think that I'm not worth your time.

She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with.
She's a lady,
And ladies,
Shouldn't be messed with.

Take off your shoes,
Come in the room,
And baby let's try not to argue,
Turn out the lights,
Turn on the radio,
How can we fight when I'm too busy loving you,
I'm too busy loving you
I'm too busy loving you

Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby,
Don't return to me.
If you think that I'm not worth your time.

She's a lady,
And ladies,
Shouldn't be messed with.
She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with.

Here I am,
There you go again,
Again
And we will not ever be eighteen again, again

And I'm worn out of fighting,
And every night you leave crying,
And I could use some time.
And here I am,
There you go again. (again)

So here I am I'm dying,
And I'm waiting for you,
Waiting for you.
Come back, come back to me,
And I'll take you gladly.
And I'll take you where to go.

Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around,
Turn around baby.
Don't return to me,
If you think that I'm not worth your time.

Did you scream enough to make her cry,
To turn around turn around baby, don't return to me.
If you think that I'm not worth your time.

She's a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with
Shes a lady,
And ladies
Shouldn't be messed with

Another Round?

It's list-making time, folks! Today's theme is: Embarrassing Confessions from Yours Truly:

1. I started re-reading the Harry Potter series. From Book 1. I also kind of want the boxed set. I know, I'm such a nerd.

2. I kind of like that song "4 Minutes" by Madonna and Justin Timberlake. Also, I still have a crush on JT, leftover from 5th grade.

3. There is a really huge mosquito bite on my heiney. I can barely sit down.

4. I desperately want Alex and Izzie to get back together on Grey's Anatomy.

5. The book Love in the Time of Cholera, which I thought would be a great love story, is actually very, very dull so far. So dull, in fact, that if things don't pick up, I may just vaya con Dios and return it back to the library without reaching the page 20 mark. My preferred reading would probably make my English professor cry.

6. Despite my anti-goldigger sentiment, sometimes I just want to marry a rich man and be done with it already.

I have tons and tons more embarrassing trivia to reveal, but I'll spare you the gory details.

"I Heard Love is Blind"-Amy W.

I think my interview went ok. The GPS system in my car suddenly went all "Poor Satellite Reception" on me, which could have been a disaster for my directionally-challenged being, but luckily (hence my name), I knew where I was going for once. So onward, ho! Windows down, sunglasses on, Kanye West blasting. At that moment, life was good. Hopefully I get the job, but even if I don't, at least the ride to the interview was fun, right?

Afterwards, I went to the library to peruse the aisles (a pastime of mine), and ending up getting books by Pearl Cleage and Sophie Kinsella. I had like $17 late fees on my card, though. Undeterred, I rifled through my wallet and was like, "Well, I got eight on it." I checked out my books and kept on movin'. Except I guess our little transaction took awhile because the lady behind me kept on sighing exaggeratedly. All it took from me was a quick snap of the head with a side-eye and she shut right up. If I'da made a full turn on her ass, it would have been over. For real. I hate pushy people. I'm impatient, but I'm not rude. But even she couldn't rain on my parade today; I was in a happy mood and had on my good pumps (black patent leather, round-toe slingbacks by Jessica Simpson. Very nice. Motown Lover and Cali Girl helped me pick 'em out).

Fast forward to now. Whoever invented sweatpants should be given a Nobel Peace Prize. I'm about to find something good on TV, check my email, and relax. There's a game on tonight. And since I woke up early, I'm gonna sleep gooooooood tonight. I can't wait. I'll probably even have good dreams, too.

I Have Returned To Civilization

Because yesterday, I got my hair done. After a few hours of power tools, magic potions, and a rerun of "Soul Food" on TV, I went from Don King to Kate Moss (honest. My new hair looks similar to hers). So praise the Lord for that.

I hate that I'm so forgetful. Like, during the day my mind is full of dozens of things to post about, and by the time I sit my butt down to write them, I've usually forgotten most of them.

Here's a starting point:

I couldn’t resist him
His eyes were like yours
His hair was exactly the shade of brown
He’s just not as tall, but I couldn’t tell
It was dark and I was lying down

You are everything – he means nothing to me
I can’t even remember his name
Why’re you so upset?
Baby, you weren’t there and I was thinking of you when I came

What do you expect?
You left me here alone; I drank so much and needed to touch
Don’t overreact – I pretended he was you
You wouldn’t want me to be lonely

How can I put it so you understand?
I didn’t let him hold my hand
But he looked like you; I guess he looked like you
No he wasn’t you
But you can still trust me, this ain’t infidelity
It’s not cheating; you were on my mind

Yes he looked like you
But I heard love is blind…

"I Heard Love is Blind" by (who else?) A-Dubs, the Beehived One herself.

This song reminds me that I used to have a "type" of guy, looks-wise. Tall, light, curly hair, athletic. Tex was it, the Runner was close, the Homeboy was nowhere near. I am actually so curious as to what the next one will look like (I'm watching the game right now, so at this particular moment I hope my next guy looks like Chauncey Billups...). On a slightly-deeper note, I think it also means that you take a little something from each experience, which shapes what you do and don't want in a relationship. I think that's cool, and that way, no fling ever has to be in vain.

I am, it has to be said, so bored right now. I mean, I could do laundry or unpack, but um, no. This game had better get interesting. Oh, never mind, I know what I'll do. I'm going to finish this game, catch up on last week's episode of "Grey's Anatomy," and convince Mom to make brownies for dinner (I mean, dessert). My sister rented "P.S. I Love You" yesterday, so perhaps I'll watch that, too.

I'm sorry, y'all, these words ain't flowing like I need them to be, so I'll bid you adieu right here. Hopefully my sparkling wit and way with words will come back by the time I post again. And if they don't, then, well, I never really had 'em it in the first place.

I remembered something to tell y'all. I need some books to peak my interest. When I was younger, I used to be an avid reader, I remember reading "To Kill A Mockingbird" and "Of Mice and Men" before I got to middle school (yes, I was that child). I seem to have tapered off. Part of it is because I'm so busy, and also because, well, when I was young I just picked up whatever was around the house and read it. Now, when I go down to the basement and peruse the dusty bookshelves, I've read everything! I want a book that's not really breezy, but not too highbrow. I like Pearl Cleage, Jennifer Weiner, and, well, JK Rowling. I hate John Steinbeck. I like a good story, not something that I have to sift through and analyze. I read "The Road" by Carson McCullers, (Oprah's Book Club) and I wanted to slit my wrists when I was finally done. So that will be my challenge this summer, to find a grown-up book, and by that I mean I won't be embarrassed to read it in public.

If Only You Knew...

Oww. That is the sound of life bitch-slapping me in the face. This week has pretty much been crud.

I can't wait to go home and get away from this place. It might not even be a matter of geography. But at this very moment, I wish I was posting from my house. For example:



I wish I could see this sight. Because that would mean that I'm in my bed, curled up with a book and Precious the dog by my side.

But anyway. Yesterday I had a hell of a time trying to finish my Ren Lit paper.



This is what I look like in the most dire of circumstances. The messy desk with me hunched over my computer means I have a paper or article due soon. The empty juice bottle means that I'm running low on fuel. At the Pistons hat means that a) my hair is a mess, and 2) I need the luck that only this cap can bring. The fact that this picture was taken at all means that I really, really must not have wanted to write that paper.

Sidenote: I need something to make me happy. Books make me happy. Any good, somewhat light titles out there that I could pick up? I'm talking chick-lit here, people, my brain can't handle anything too tough right now.

Oh, yeah, and this is that cheesecake from Monday...



In case you're wondering, this post is mostly pictures because at this very moment, I don't trust my words. I'm not afraid that they won't accurately convey what I want to say. I'm afraid that they will.

Fun Day

Another eventful, yet relaxing day as the Pistons grace my television screen.

Spent the whole day in the hair salon today. Whew. At least my hair looks nice. There was this lady there who worked out a lot and ended up having to get a relaxer and a haircut. It was soooo cute! It was a maturer woman's version of Rihanna's cut. And we know that anything related to RiRi is okay with me.

At Border's, I found a black historical romance novel--a rarity. I think I had an embarrassingly loud and happy reaction and, duh, bought it on the spot. The happiness continued when I went to Ulta today and got my nail polish (yay). Black Cherry Chutney here I come. The downside is that the suburban strip mall is hellacious to navigate, what with those soccer moms in their minivans driving like it's coupon day at Kroger's or something; I got honked at--twice! I did have a mini freak-out when I saw this attractive black couple strolling hand-in-hand; they were so cute! All I could do was sigh (scream) "Black love!" to my windshield.

This Taken Boy situation is getting a little sticky. How much of a microcosm is any action committed through Facebook, though? I mean, a general rule of thumb is that nothing's 100% official until it appears in your news feed, but then again, it is only Facebook, not the law. Or is it? And irony of all ironies, but the subject of Oprah today was the proverbial "other woman;" women who had or have had affairs (some were ongoing) with married men. I discreetly hung my head in shame as the guest psychologist read homewreckers everywhere for filth. But wait. We're putting the cart before the horse, here, I haven't done anything bad. Except flirt. And I didn't even start it. So I ain't no adultery-accomplice. My imagination is blowing this way out of proportion. I just need to keep things in perspective.

Remember yesterday's event that I neglected to mention? Well, here it is. Yesterday, Chauncey Billups, 3 time All-Star point guard of my Detroit Pistons, was at the mall answering questions and signing stuff. I didn't wait in the long-ass line because I didn't want to say anything dumb, but I surely took pictures of his sexy self (oh, yes, that stride and that deep voice is sexy on and off the court), which I will post when I get back to school; I stupidly left my connecting cord at school. As we watched, all I could think was, "Oh, my God he's fine. I have to marry an athlete."

Hell, I'd take Chauncey himself were it not for his wife and two adorable daughters. Not to mention, we're on a championship run, and it would be me against a whole city of supporters. And even I'm not that big a homewrecker to put my team in jeopardy...

I Should Come Up with Better Titles

Maybe it's sleep deprivation; I couldn't sleep last night. Whilst getting up to get a 4:30am snack, I stepped in doggy pee, so I had to clean that up before I could grab some saltines and some Girl Scout cookies...After that, I still couldn't catch any zzz's, so I read a little Eric Jerome Dickey ("Friends and Lovers"; it's not as good as "Milk in My Coffee" but we'll see) and listened to my Ipod. Was woken up by Middle Sister ironing her clothes at about 7am, then by Little Cousin standing over me, petting Precious the dog, scaring the hell out of me. He cackled as I remembered that I was on babysitting duty. That's the only reason I'm up before noon (or, okay, 3) when on Spring Break. He's in the other room watching "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" and munching on popcorn. Thank God this is a paid gig. I mean, he's family so I'd do it for free, but having a little shopping money is always a plus.

Ugh, one thing I hate about being home in the daytime is fielding calls from telemarketers, I mean, phone survey distribution managers. I used to work as one, so I feel their pain. Still, they are annoying. At least I was a real person, not a stupid machine.

Friday night is still on my brain. That's probably what kept me up last night, trying to fill in the gaps. Also, I couldn't decide whether or not, if this was Tree Hill, I was Peyton, who everyone roots for, and for all intents and purposes, deserves the taken boy, or Carrie, who is nothing more than the homewrecking nanny.


See? They are meant to be together even though he has a girlfriend.



Them two? Not so much. She really is the other woman.


See? Everything ain't so clear cut. And if you think it's silly to compare this to a TV show, well, there are no definite rules when it comes to relationships anyway. Some people ask their friends, some ask experts, I choose to refer to the CW.

Moving on, hopefully I can go shopping soon. I've already compiled lists of what I want from Forever 21, Old Navy, and Target. ON is going out of business, y'all. Sadder words have seldom been spoken, I freakin' love Old Navy. We know what this means though: SALE!!! I really want these cargo shorts, a cute tank, a pair of shoes, and a tote bag from there. I promise I will post pictures soon, along with yet another song leaked from Usher's upcoming album, a ballad (yay!) called "I Can't Win," written by Ne-yo. That Ne-yo can write the mess out of some songs; he is, after all, the mastermind behind the wonderful "Irreplaceable," performed by none other than Beyonce herself.

Again, another thing about being up during early afternoon is that there's nothing to do (read: there's nothing on TV, I left my DVDs at school, have no car and a 9-year-old to babysit). This is why I stay in bed until General Hospital comes on.

Desperately Seeking

A member of the male species available for requisite boyfriendy activities. Inquire within.

I woke up this morning afraid to face the day, but it wasn't half as busy as I thought. I have a meeting with a woman from a publishing group about a possible internship over the summer. In New York City, of all places! I want to work in the division with authors like Sophie Kinsella, who wrote the Shopaholic series, which I love, and Danielle Steel, and romance novels! That would be awesomely cool. Hopefully it goes well, I've been known to ace an application then subsequently blow the interview, so to speak. Well, actually, she ambushed me with an impromptu phone interview, and wonder of all wonders, she still wanted to meet with me afterwards. So I must bring the A-game. I really need an internship this summer...and the fact that it takes place in NYC, my dream city, is icing on the cake. Wait, Elements of Style abhors the phrase "the fact that." Revising: It's icing on the cake that the internship is in NYC.

And now, my daily Chrianna...nope, can't do the "blended couple-name" ish. Tried and failed. Anyway, here's the best picture of Chris and RiRi yet (thanks Young, Black, and Fabulous!)



Squeeeeee, right?!?!? Here they are in Jamaica, where yours truly wants to go soo badly. Reports say that the couple was playfully making out and Chris was kissing her neck (swoon) and held her above water like that so she wouldn't get her hair wet. Yeah, girl, I feel you! Even though if CB was smart he'd sweat out that perm anyway later that night :).

I finally got my hair done, praise Jehovah. Before I was wearing my new gray and burgundy knit beanie that Mom sent. As cute as it was, it was, admittedly, kind of homeless chic (especially worn with the requisite hoop earrings). I'ma kill 'em tomorrow. If I make it to bed soon.

Como esta?

Yo estoy un poco cansada. Y tu?

Right now I'm studying and preparing to write a paper. Roommate and I are by ourselves in the room, waiting for Cali Girl to call and take us over to La Casa BK.

Last weekend, Sidekick, Roommate, Cali Girl, Sistah Girl, Charley the dog, and myself went (duh) shopping. At Nine West I tried on a pair of what Roommate lovingly dubbed "Tranny Shoes." They were hunter green satin platforms (of course) with a bow over the peep toe. I thought they were absolutely darling, as it happens. Anyway, the guy and girl helping us were AUC products, which was nice. The guy was an English major, and he asked me who my favorite author was. I felt stupid in saying Meg Cabot or Sophie Kinsella or any other frilly, chick-lit type authors. But they were all I could think of. Which got me to thinking, maybe I need to up my reading ante a little bit. I know my area is journalism, but literature is literature. I haven't read what would qualify as a good book in a while, and the one I did read I found incredibly boring ("The Road" by Cormac McCarthy, if you must know), which scared me. I'm not trying to be all highbrow or anything, but one cannot live on dessert alone. Although I rarely have time to read anything right now, let alone a deep, juicy novel. Face it, if I can't squeeze it into my daily blogroll between Dlisted and All About the Pretty, it just might fall through the cracks.

Today was a good day. My Renaissance Lit book came (finally), so now I'm just waiting for the Shakespeare one to grace me with its presence. Dinner was good, the West End Mall was of course entertaining, and I have a productive night ahead. Plus I wore my streetwalker boots today (again, Roommate's words, not mine), so that was nice. Walking through the caf is so much jazzier when Michael Jackson's "Streetwalker" is playing in your head. Speaking of which, his 25th Anniversary Edition of "Thriller" came out recently. One of the photogs on The Paper had it, I think I want it for myself. I just downloaded "Off the Wall," after all.

Okay, no more dillydallying, work awaits me. I might have to stay up late tonight, and I'd rather get a head start now as opposed to the wrong side of 1am.

Let's Play Jeopardy

A: A highly addictive television show that will no doubt lead to arguments, therapy sessions, and numerous billable hours spent in a divorce lawyer's office. Lucky's new vice.

Q: What is "The Moment of Truth."

In other news, there is a new cute boy on the paper for which I work. Pros: he's tall, light-ish, and he's from Texas. Cons: he's tall, light-ish, and he's from Texas. From field research, boys with those aforementioned qualities are nothing but trouble.

Surprisingly, though, today was a day in which most circumstances unfolded in my favor. I finally caved in and ordered "Barbershop 2," and today it came! Now if my textbooks would follow suit. I had lots to do today, and not much of it got done. Oh, I swept the floor and ordered yet another book, but my article for The [Online Start-Up] Magazine has yet to be written. I'm not incredibly enthused about writing it, though. That's not a good sign, but when am I ever gung-ho about first sitting down in front of a blank screen? Actually, it's better if I really like the subject of the article, but the first few words are always the scariest (and, arguably, the worst). So once again I'm hoping that I will again get a flash of inspiration and let the words flow poetically to be submitted to raving reviews by my editor. Hoping quite hard, actually, because it's due tomorrow...

Moving on, I painted my nails today, a bright, punchy pink that is the complete antithesis of Russian Navy. It makes me wish for the warm, sunny weather that pinkens my cheeks, makes me root around in my purse for a huge pair of sunglasses, ruffles the hem of my dress, tans my bare toes, brings out the brown in my hair, and calls for an abundance of watermelon, ice cream, open sunroofs and bathing suits.

Thankfully, tomorrow's finally Friday. This weekend, I want to go to Battle of the Bands so badly. My Childhood Friend from Tuskegee is going and I haven't seen him since the summer (no romance, dirty birdies. Him and his brother befriended me and my sister the summer before I started kindergarten, and we've all been tight ever since). Any bets on what the "featured song" is going to be? Last year, every band and their mom did "And I am Telling You," from the then-popular Dreamgirls. I wonder what ubiquitous song will grace this year's festivities? Probably something Beyonce. "Get Me Bodied" is my song, no shade...Of course that means there will be parties. Should be fun. Maybe tomorrow night I could enjoy a quiet evening with the Pistons, but I don't think they're on national TV. Boo. I miss my boys terribly, and their W-L record since I returned to Atlanta has suffered as well...

I might get into bed early tonight! Two nights ago, I had a massive amount of homework, and last night I had 1000 things to do online, plus I was in the middle of a book that I couldn't put down. Speaking of, I just finished it! Sex as a Second Language was really good, two thumbs up. Well, maybe 1 1/2 because I felt badly about reading a book with the word "sex" in the title whilst sitting in Sisters Chapel during this morning's convocation. But what can you do.