QUICK! SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO DRY UP A ZIT

(and other random thoughts)

I got a pimple forming on my face and its freaking me out. I need a resolution © aaliyah

An overnight one preferably. If your suggestion works, then you get a prize. My respect. :)

-Gas is 4.20 a gallon for regular :(. My dreams of owning a Range Rover are all but dead. With gas prices being what they are, it seems silly to buy something so fuel inefficient. I mean if i already owned one that'd be one thing. But i don't. So yeah. Ugh. I'm actually looking into purchasing a prius. The car for douches. Nothing against prius owners, but yeah, most of them are self satisfied smug liberal trash hipsters who shop at whole foods and trader joes, while wearing birkenstocks and certified organic clothing. Gross.

-Looks like Kim K's butt might be real, because her sister's is just as huge:


In fact, all of them have junk. So unless they all decided to get booty implants(and it is L.A so its no too far fetched) they inherited their hind parts fair and square. Who else watches their show? Isn't it great? It's one of my guilty pleasures.

-The smell of the polyurethane coat on the floors is making me nauseous. But the floor looks beautiful! If you're good i'll post pics. :)

-Noel Gallagher is truly the jerk i pegged him for way back when. Im sure you have all heard his comments about Jay-Z appearing at glastonbury. If not here's the quote:

"If it ain't broke don't fix it. If you start to break it then people aren't going to go. I'm sorry, but Jay-Z? No chance. Glastonbury has a tradition of guitar music and even when they throw the odd curve ball in on a Sunday night you go 'Kylie Minogue?' I don't know about it. But I'm not having hip-hop at Glastonbury. It's wrong."

I mean i'm no jay-z stan but a curmudgeon such as Noel needs to be taken down a few pegs. I was glad that Jigga, came out strumming this:


Also, might i add, jay-z actually has stage presence. I've never been to a concert of his, so i had no idea. Its refreshing especially considering so many other rappers insist on crowding the stage with their entire entourage in addition to like fiddylemn other hypemen.

-Speaking of Rappers, looks like mos def has girl problems. Now back in the day, i wanted to be mos' girl(as if i had a chance) but now that he may be on some fatal attraction, maybe our paths never crossing worked out for the best. I possess something i call the "lex tattoo" and its really quite extraordinary. Oh...yall ain't know? Well, I'll blog about it sometime. lol

But seriously, i don't know if i believe her or not, but the debacle should prove to be an interesting diversion regardless.

-Tomorrow is july first. The seventh month of the year. Time shole is flying.

-Somewhere along the way, i became a night owl again, and i can feel that tonight is going to be no different. I will lay in bed tossing and turning until 3 and then try to cram 7 hours sleep into 4. No wonder i have the putrid pustule on my face.

-I'd rather text than talk. Well to most people at least. Texting just gives so much more freedom of movement. Is that sad that im justifying ? Ayo technology indeed.

-I put vitamin E oil directly on my lips. It tastes gross, but my lips stay soft and ash free.

-Tonight i sat in front of the TV for an hour watching Justine Simmons on HSN. Her jewelry was actually cute, and im contemplating buying a piece or three. If i do, yall won't judge me will you?

CAN YOU GET BLACK LUNG FROM SAWDUST?

I sure hope not.

The floors in my house are getting redone, and as a byproduct, there is sawdust, everywhere. When i say everywhere, i mean everywhere. If there exists a crevice, the wood particles will find a home. My bedroom door was sealed shut, and when i walked in, i found a thin layer of dust on my dresser. The same for the media room and guest room. I can see why the floor guys were so diligent about taping things off and draping furniture with plastic. This means i'm probably taking in a billion microns of wood with every breath and i know that can't be healthy. I'm just hoping that since it won't be a prolonged procedure(all should be done by monday) that i won't have to be hospitalized due to sawdust inhalation. I'm being extreme, but you know how i do. lol

So yes, while yall were out having kicks -or whatever it is yall were doing on this lovely saturday, i was in the house, working. Finally finishing up on projects that were started when i first moved here. I'm a notorious project starter, but not a project finisher. I know, trifling right? But don't be too hard on me. Yall know how it is. Life and stuff. Best laid plans of mice and men. All that jazz.

Of course, this would be a muggy weekend. Nothing more enjoyable than doing housework in 90 degree weather and 60% humidity. Dust eddies swirling about your temples. Have you ever operated power tools with sticky hands? Its as fun as it sounds. :(

Annoyances aside, the work is getting done. Sure, my house smells like a chem lab - that wood stain is str8 up toxic - but the end result is worth the loss of a few brain cells. I think. I hope. What was i talking about again?

So now that the night has come, the land is dark, and the moon is the only light i see(in theory, true darkness is impossible in the city, darn light pollution) i'm cold chilling, drinking this cup of tea(yes i am the weirdo that will drink hot tea on a warm summer's eve)with the ill plate of broccoli with garlic sauce and shrimp fried rice. I know, not very diet friendly but i'm saying. I worked like a beast today. Tonight I had planned on painting the town red with my girl whose chirren are away for the summer, but both of us were not feeling it. We both called each other like, "do you wanna reschedule? lol...oh wow we are so old.

Oh yeah thats another thing. I made a vow that for the next month, i refuse to blog about anything age related. Like aches, pains, wrinkles and strange odors. What? Not my odors. Just...you know, in general. I've been entirely too negative about my age and considering that i'm still (kinda)young and (sorta)virile, i need to stop, and save it for when i'm really old and have something worth talking about. So I'm gonna embrace my age and stop bugging. At least for thirty one days.

STICK A FORK IN ME...

I'm talking to my girlfriend and she's telling me a little anecdote about some dude she knows who she wants to hook me up with. Sidenote: why is someone always trying to hook me up? I am perfectly capable of handling that area of my life thank you very much. Anyway. (hey boo)

Dude happens to be 35.

Of course im me, and me be age obsessed and i focus on the fact that he's 35. My internal dialogue reverbs:

"like dangggg he's old." Keyshia cole style.

So im bristling with insult that she would even think i'd be interested in somebody that age when...*record scratch* it dawns on me.

"hey idiot...he's only a few years older than you."

Oh no i didn't. Oh yes i did. I had to call myself back to myself yall. From an outsiders standpoint we'd totally be in the same age group. That is galling to me. Especially considering the fact that i still think of myself as that 21 yr old, with a a dollar and a dream, reading word up magazine. Just with better boobs and eyebrows. lol

I mean i got one of those life insurance forms in the mail, and i looked for my age group to see what the quote would be(cuz you can never have too much life insurance) for a non-smoker w/no known health problems, and would you believe i'm in a new age bracket?? WTF when did this happen? Oh its cruel i tell you. I mean the fact that i'm even looking for more life insurance is bad enough, but i could just chalk that up to being responsible. But the fact that i've moved up in the age range, well i can't spin that one. I'm so over yall.

*grasps at the remaining threads of youth*

Its just that i never thought i'd see the day when someone in his mid thirties would be considered a suitable suitor. And not "oooh...older man" dateable, just dateable as in "yall are peers, get over it". Not that people i'm interested in are super young or nothing -no cougar here(yet))-truth be told they are all 30ish, but none are that...old. Like to me, 35 is some new frontier ish. And i'm not trying to conquer any new frontiers. Not yet anyway.

AYO FAT GIRL C'MERE ARE YOU TICKLISH?

Who you callin fat? And i am ticklish so keep your grisly hands away from me, thanks.

*sigh*

Must it always be thus?

So its going down like this. After evading the issue for a couple of weeks i got on the scale. Why did i decide to do that? Stupidity yall. According to good people over at health-o-meter, i've gained five pounds. I KNEW it. Over the past few days, i'd been feeling rather portly, and today, the scale confirmed that what i was feeling is real and not just in my mind.

Oh bother.

See this is what happens when you get content. If you've been following this blog at all(and i don't blame you if you haven't) you know that just a few months ago i was all elated and self satisfied with a 12lb weight loss. Str8 up olsen twinning. Mhmm couldn't tell me nothing. Well apparently somebody needed to tell me something because i'm one donut away from looking like Diane Amos. Tragic i tell you. And to get this disturbing news right at the onset of summer! Happy summer solstice by the way.

I'm feeling some type of way yall. The thing is, i know wut dun it too. Those darn rolls. At my sisters reception there were thee most delicious rolls. They're better than any dinner roll you've ever tasted. I guarantee it. In fact they were so delicious that when everybody went home i procured the leftovers for myself and proceeded to eat them one by one - sometimes two by two - until they were gone. All that delicious yeasty bready goodness, in my my mouth, down my throat, in my stomach...and now on my hips. And chin. Not saying anything is wrong with the triple chin look(aretha wears hers well), but it just ain't for me. I'm so sick © Ne-yo. I'm supposed to be rocking bikinis, but now it looks like i'll be making my foray into the world of potato sack couture. Sad. I can't even talk about this anymore, im getting emo.

Tomorrow i'm totally back on my hard core dieting and exercising though. Mhmm. Yup.

In other news did some gardening today. This is huge for me. All of my greatest fears can be summed up in one word: "bugs." And outside, in the soil, lurk thousands of unidentifiable creepy crawlies. But i conquered - or mitigated i should say, they are FAR from conquered - my fears, and braved the great outdoors despite this fact. I didn't even freak out when an unearthed rock revealed a colony of isopods or - as the kids call them - potato bugs. Of course, my bravery had much to do with being dressed for the occasion. My gear consisted of -and please try to picture - this:

1.Tightly tied head scarf(covering my ears to prevent bugs from flying in and making a home)
2. Light blue button down shirt complete with bleach stain(buttoned up to one of my chins and cuffs also buttoned)
3. Black leggings
4. Knee high sweat socks a la lew alcindor 1967(btw the leggings were tucked into said sweat socks)
5.My broke down chucks(i've mentioned them before)

I basically looked like a half-wit super hero. I was just lacking the cape. But, other than looking like a total fool in my landscaperess get up i think it went rather well. Not to say that i've never had my hands in the dirt before, planting and sowing, because I have. But this is the first time that i was all up in it. Nitty gritty and all that good stuff. It was therapeutic. I felt at one with nature and the universe and all that BS Deepak Chopra be talking about.*

I only have one complaint though. Why is my backyard the freaking wild kingdom? Seriously they could film all of animal planet in the rear of my house and have plenty of copy, with footage to spare. Its getting ridiculous now. In addition to the squirrels and raccoons, there appears to be what looks like ...groundhogs? Woodchucks? are they the same? Whatever they are, they're gross. Oh yeah, i can't forget the opossums. Technically i haven't seen one in my yard yet, but i did see one dead in the middle of the street, presumably run over by a car. It was gruesome and sad. But if i see one in the street, that means they've infiltrated the neighborhood, and thereby, are in my yard. So basically my garden is well on its way to being showcased on PBS nature. Fortunately, the animals make themselves scarce when i'm outside, but when i'm in the kitchen doing dishes and looking out the window? its like a big furry party. And i'm not even invited! Rude.

*For the record, i do not think that Deepak Chopra talks BS. In fact, i really do not know much of what he does talk about. Everything i know about him is from the media...and the book "natural cures they don't want you to know about", which, by the way, is a great read. I strongly suggest it. Oh yeah there was the one time DC was on Charlie rose. I was gonna watch, but changed the channel as the hills was coming on.

DIVISION OF MY JOY

Don't you wanna lay here?

Once upon a time i was quite nonchalant regarding j*davey. The more folks hyped them up, the more determined i was not to join the frenzy. Don't ask why, thats the just the way i be. But then i listened to some tracks on my brother's ipod thingie and now i'm a fan. I'll admit its an acquired taste, but once the taste is acquired you can't get enough. At least i can't.

For the past hour and a half its been anything but joy. i've been looking for an outfit to wear to my brother's graduation. Yup that's right. My younger brother is graduating from high school tomorrow(i still can't believe it) and i'll be attending his graduation. I'm so proud of him.

So of course this means i need to find something to wear. Unfortunately the "finding" has become a journey a self discovery AND self hate, as everything in my closet has missed the mark of approval. My room is awash in a sea of clothes and shoes. Oooh wasn't that poetic?

First it was a dilemma of what type of clothing to wear. Should i rock pants? Jeans? The ceremony is in the morning, and outdoors. I probably could get away with jeans, but i'm old-school. Some occasions require more formal gear, and a graduation is one of them. But it is only a graduation. Not to mention its in the elements, so i don't want to be too dressy. Finally I decided a bright summery dress and some cute sandals would do the trick.

...

Um where are all my bright summery dresses and cute sandals? Wait, who was i kidding? My wardrobe is a palette of muted earth tones. i didn't really start rocking bright colors until last year. And that didn't include dresses of a tropical hue. So where in the world did i think i was going to get a brightly colored dress? Oh...thats right. The imaginary closet in my mind. The one full of designer threads and louboutins. I've mistaken my closet for joan clayton's.

I close the imaginary closet door and start looking through my clothes realistically. I have a ton of dresses, but none of them is what i want. And most of them are a boring black. *sigh* I have LBDs for days. Ugh. i really didn't want to wear black, but being that that is all i have i begin trying them on to see if any will rock my world. I knew i should have bought something new. But i called myself being adult by saving money and rocking something i already have. Adults are dumb.

With each article of clothing i'm getting more and more frustrated. Not to mention my body is dissolving into a mound of fat. When did i become so rotund? Where did all these rolls come from? Probably from the dinner rolls i've been stuffing myself with every night. Ugh.

Well at this point i've narrowed it down to two dresses, both black. Obvi. One is a shift that makes me look like a box, and the other has a retro look, with a full skirt that makes me look really hippy. In other words they both suck. I'm not even gonna decide on which one of the two until tomorrow when its go time. Pressure bust pipes.

At this point i'm just taking a break from all the decision making to blog. My sounding board has been tuned me out(grr), so its just me and you. Don't worry 'bout michael or johnny. Thank goodness for j*davey which has been the soothing soundtrack to my self imposed delirium. Oh yes, its been on repeat for the full hour and a half. (I'm too lazy to find something else to listen to lol)

I know you're probably thinking, "um its only a graduation and not even your graduation. Relax."

I say to you, i know this. But this is how i do. Love me, or leave me alone.

J*Davey Division of joy

THE PERIL OF HAVING BOURGEOIS TENDENCIES

Is that whenever you saunter into the "hood" you feel like a freakin idiot. This evening I realized I was out of sugar - and instead of driving to whole foods or acme with the long lines and endless temptations - i decided to head to save-a-lot. As soon as i pull up there are like five or six dudes just loitering outside the store. I fix my fire-and ice-grill (you know not too cold or too hot but just right) And proceed to walk into the store. I prepared myself for lewd comments but none were forthcoming. So that was good.

Wait...was it?

Now that im thinking about it, perhaps it wasn't. You see, whenever i go out, i must be cute. Yes i just said i like to be cute. Yes I was dead serious. I am a grown woman who wants to be attractive at all times, even to strangers who i have no intents on befriending . We can discuss the dichotomy of this at another time.

In my world, an evening at the supermarket requires the same prep time as night out for dinner and dancing. Maybe even more, cuz at the supermarket you're liable to see someone you know, and how tragic would it be for your blabby coworker to run up on you while you're looking raggedy and busted? You know, the coworker you tolerate, but really don't like. She's all hello, but sneakily looking you up and down because she perceives a chink in your normal diane-von-furstenberged armor. Then the gossip starts, innocently enough; "guess who i saw at target..." but becomes all whisper-down-the-lane and before you know it you're pregnant with a possible crack addiction. All because you forgot to moisturize your situation, walking out of the house with ashy elbows that you thought nobody would see because this was a "quick run". All because figured an oversized bleach stained t-shirt was acceptable shopping gear. All because you keep procrastinating on that pedicure. Oh yes, i have scenarios for days.

Typically my shopping ensemble goes this way, a nice pair of jeans that fit well and compliment my assets without being vulgar, a t-shirt that hugs the body without being tight and sensible shoes.

Let me stop. My shoes are never sensible.

Save for a few pairs of flipflops and my brokedown chucks - all of my shoes have sky high heels. Im short. I have a complex. Lemme 'lone. But check it, i know how to walk in heels. No really i do. One thing that really kills me is when i see some girl who can't walk in anything above an inch. It hurts me to my soul. You know how you see some the girls who walk with their whole upper body leaning forward, butt poked out, because they are trying to compensate for the uneven distribution of weight due to said heels? I can't stand that. If you're going to rock em learn how to wear them. This means you Ashanti.

And so i'm always mindful of what i'm wearing.

Don't get me wrong. Im not the chick who will roll up in whole foods or aldi or pathmark or winn dixie or piggly wiggly or whatever you got around your way -with four inch heels and a mini skirt, thinking i'm cute when really not and just looking like trash. Its not about looking sexy or alluring. I just like to be presentable and chic at all times.

Part of it may stem from my upbringing. You know how some women will leave the house in curlers or scarves(not the pretty ones but the wrap-your-hair-up-at-night ones) and slippers on their feet? That wasn't my mom. No way. She was always neat and tidy for a jaunt outside the house - no matter how brief. She made me and my sibs do the same. I remember my neighbor was outside in her pajamas early one saturday morning, eating cereal. I was soooo jealous because kia was allowed to sit on her front step and eat apple jacks in her pj's. I begged my mom for the privilege and was given a kind but firm "no." I had to wash my face, brush my teeth, and put on my decent play clothing before i set foot outside. Oh yeah, and "you will NOT be eating cereal on the porch. Each your frankenberries at the kitchen table."

So that carried over to me. Actually i'm a LOT more liberal than my mom ever was. I will wear my scarf out in public. Especially if its humid outside. No sense in having my hair puffing up before i get to my destination. If you tie it artfully enough, folks won't even realize that its your "head rag". It just looks like youre ethnically aware.

All that to say, I strive to be decently groomed at all times. Although apparently I wasn't on top of my game cuz i got no holla tonight. Nope not a one. What?! I'm not vain. I just like good feedback!

Anyways.

I walk in the store, first thing i see? This chick with a passel of dirty looking brats gathered around the doorway. Now she and her 5 kids were just standing there, blocking the entrance into the first aisle of the store. I waited there for a few seconds expecting her to move out of the way, but she didn't. I KNOW she saw me. Irritated i finally said; "EXCUSE me." Wow...that came out alot softer than i thought. Dare i say...almost timid? Boo. I'm so lily livered yall. She didn't acknowledge she heard me, but did move ever so slightly. She sized me up all right. My voice gave away my character. Yellow.

I rolled my eyes and squeezed between her and peanut an 'nem.

So i start walking through the store, browsing the aisles looking for the sugar, at the same time taking inventory of my surroundings. For starters the store is dirty. Now i know its save-a-lot so i don't expect the shopping experience of whole foods or some of your other gourmet markets, but come on. The floor looked like it hadn't been swept in ages. There were black skid marks from the shopping carts and dollies. Empty packing boxes strewn all over the place. It appeared that the management had no respect for their customers, given the disarray. "Yall are filth so you will shop in filth." SMH.

And then the people. From the woman and her kids at the entrance - to the workers on the floor - i found all of them to be rude and ill-mannered. There were two girls putting stock on the shelves, i mean i guess thats what they were doing, actually the were just standing there and talking. Every other word out of their mouth was an expletive. Color me old-fashioned, but i find that on-the-job profanity is not professional in the least. Especially if you have to work with the public. I'm not talking about going into your homegirl's office and telling her some bawdy tale in the privacy of those four walls, but cursing around people. Loudly. And whats worse children! Not the babies yall. Please don't cuss around the babies.

...And please, say the baby.

I'm not going to lie, my nose was turned up so high it was snowing on my brain. I couldn't wait to get out of there. I was going to ask one of the diva's in training where the sugar was, but decided not to interrupt their profane free-for-all. Fortunately there it was, the next aisle over. I grabbed it, and headed for the check out post-haste.

Lets discuss why save-a-lot had 5 registers but only one was open?? The line, which was non existent when i walked in the store, was now some 11 odd people strong. Of course. Isn't that always the way? I take my place in line, and start observing the people in front of me. A butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker. No, it was more like a crackhead, a wino, and a pimp. Not judging just saying. Oh and a sweet old lady.

Sweet old lady what are you doing here? Why are you alone? Its dangerous out here in these streets. Where is your family? What a sweet lady. Your grandkids should be helping you, you don't need to be carrying all them groceries by yourself. I should ask her if she needs a ride -

"These mother F#*!#$%'s need to hurry up! I don't have all F*#&%)@ing day. Why they only have one F%*^*#ing cash register open?!"

Well touch me in the morning and then walk away! Sweet old lady is that you?! My, what choice words are coming out of your mouth. Seriously you could have knocked me over with a feather. I had no idea I was in line behind ma kettle.

I'm looking at this 70+ year old woman aghast. She may look old, but indeed she had a tempest a-brewing in her. I daresay she was more feisty that i would ever be, and shame on me for ever doubting her ability to hold her own. I bet she wouldn't have had to wait on the partridge family to move out of the way at the front door.

Manager dude came out of his "office" out onto the floor. He pointed to me:

"You and the people behind you can get in this lane"

I guess he was observing us through the two-way mirror which - might i add - wasn't working correctly because i was able to see in almost as well as he could see out. But whatever, not my problem.

Sighing with relief i walked to his register.

Why did the hoochie behind me bust in front of me and get in line first??? It happened all so fast that for a second i was dumbstruck. I quickly got over it, and got in line behind her, my attitude written all over my face rude boys style.

I seethed for a second while he opened the register, wondering if i should say anything. On one hand I'm only the second person in line - and i really don't want any trouble. On the other, its the principle of the thing. I knew he pointed to me. So did she. Before i knew it the following words -dripping with sarcasm - were coming out of my mouth.

"Um...you do know he was pointing to me right?"

She turned around, her ratty yaki grazing her shoulders. Her bloodshot eyes sized me up.

"Excuse me?"

Oh see. Now i done did it. There's about to be an altercation and i'm gonna get beat down. All because i had to make a point. Why oh why? I couldn't just let it go? Of all the battles i fall back on i pick this one to charge ahead? Its gonna be like thermopylae except i won't be the victor.

"He pointed to me to get in line first."

"No he didn't."

Oh well, we can end the discussion here. Obviously her ocular power is greater than mine. Not to mention i'd like to get out of the store with all of my extremities functioning. I'm fully prepared to go out like a punk just so i can get out alive.

The manager came to my rescue.

"Miss" - he pointed to me - "you're next in line."

Weave girl: "But I'm in front of her."

"She was in front of you in the other line though."

Weave girl paused, like she was wondering if she should go on with the beat down or let it go. Apparently the latter suited her mood, she scooched over. Crisis averted.

I squeezed past her, my sugar gripped up like a hand grenade. I felt her eyes boring holes into my back as manager dude rang me up. Oh lord if she sucker punches me in the back of my head...

Manager dude asked me if i wanted a bag and i said no. I didn't want to wait the extra second it would take for him to get it. I paid for my sugar, and made my way out of the store expeditiously, trying to look casual even though i was shook.

I finally exited the store, and headed for my car. On the way home i decided to work on my thug mami persona.

What a weird experience.

DON'T YOU HATE IT WHEN:

Your new issue of Nat'l Geographic comes in the mail and its cover picture is some sort of insect? And not just an insect, an insect thats been magnified many, many times, so you get to see all its little hairs and antennae and compound eyes. Gross.

For me that is the worst. I really really look forward to my delivery every month, and when i take my magazine out its brown cover and see that kind of crap my day is ruined. If we were meant to see bugs all up close and personal we'd be born with two electron microscopes instead of eyes. And the thing is, the issue could have some really good articles, but i can't get past the cover. Not that I read National Geographic anyway. Its all about the pictures man.

Its like the one time i was browsing the plants and animal volume in the child craft series(yall remember them? My parents bought the deluxe set for me and the sibs) and my eyes fell on a page where there were some kind of caterpillars on a leaf. They were black and white striped and there must have been about 300 of them on that one leaf. It was utterly creepy. Disgustingly, skin crawling creepy. I recoiled in horror, threw the book down, and have not picked up the book since. No, really - its still on the living room floor in my parent's house. I left it there for posterity. One day i'll show it to my kids and be like:

"babies, this is the very place where mommy realized she'd never be an entomologist."

Oh and by the way...i was 9 at the time. You see how long the scarring stays with me. My psychosisisises run deep. Uh huh. Fer sure.

Enough with the preamble.

So its been brought to my attention by someone whose opinion i pretend to value that my posts have been quite self centered as of late. You know - with all the whining about hair, aging, weight, aging, bugs, aging...and other things that fall under the category of "hate". I say bogus. I mean i am me so who else could my posts be centered on? Initially i started blogging because i needed a receptacle for the flotsam of my mind(plus everyone else was doing it)...cuz honestly no one was really trying to hear all of this crap. I was all who can i run to?©

So i picked up my pad(moleskine) and my pen(cross) - btw i don't care whatchall think the Love Movement was a dope album - and began jotting down all that should not be uttered, for fear of reprisal. But now its like, maybe i should refocus my topics? But who or what would I write about? My friends/fam are out. I mean i may place a tidbit here or there but really, i don't feel too comfortable about putting folks' biz out in the URLs. You never know who might be reading.

I could write about celebs, because their antics are community fodder. But there are so many celeb/gossip sites out there that do that and are way more funny than i could ever hope to be. My meanderings are mildly amusing to some, but thats because i'm talking about myself. My disparagement is your entertainment. And that's ok. I'm completely fine with laughing at myself. But talking about other people? Even though they'd be celebs, i'd probably just come off catty rather than witty. Not a good look. Not to mention i don't need anybody coming up in my blog taking me to task for hating on some "star's" outfit or face. For the record, saying "she/he's got more money/hoes than you" does not phase me. They still ugly.

And then there is always the politics/current events angle. While i am a news junkie(surely i'm not the only one who enjoys deustche welle?), i really don't feel qualified to regurge today's hot topics to anyone who might reading. Journalism is not my strong suit. I mean i can ape a pompous institutional moderne, but i lack the true skill required for overusing and abusing latinate words. Plus, i may watch the news - but i don't understand it. Can someone explain why gas is 4.15 a gallon again?

So we're back to me and my so-called life. Its all i got folks. Honestly i don't mean to come off as self absorbed because i'm not. In all actuality i don't take myself that seriously. I mean i do, but you know - not really.

Man forget it. This blog has been and will continue to be a repository for all of my mental odds and ends. Not that i was going to change it anyway. I was only giving an unsolicited opinion its due consideration.

Now lets talk about the discovery of a vein on my forehead that appears when i laugh...

NOT BY THE HAIRS OF MY CHINNY CHIN CHIN

It just got realer than real deal holyfield up in here.

So i'm in the mirror self actualizing (read: staring and obsessing) and i see a little black something on my chin. Thinking its a piece of dust, or, errant eyeliner i swat my hand at it to wipe it away. Um...why come it didn't move? I lean in closer and - Oh! the humanity! - Its a hair. A rogue piece of keratin. On my chin. Your girl(yes im still on that) is about to be matisyahu-lite.

Time is the great equalizer, but its also cruel and unkind. Like what did i ever do to deserve this? I try to be good. So why am i getting hair(s) on my chin, when i'm sure there's some nice young man dying to get his ross on but he can't so he settles for the bigen special? Why? He surely needs chin fur more than i do.

I guess this means my body is producing more testosterone or...something. (any docs in the building?) That in itself is enough to send me into a hissy, but seeing the evidence of my hormonal zeitgeist is just too much. Am i too young for hormonal therapy? I am just going to have to resign myself to being a browner vera de milo?

Of course i plucked it out, but i couldn't help but feel icky for the rest of the day. I felt like i everyone knew my dreadful secret(and now yall do cuz im blogging about it) like I was wearing a giant A on my chest. A for alpaca. Thats what i'm about to be in a few months if this keeps up. I'll be prized for my glossy coat. Want wool? I got your golden fleece right here baby.

Seriously chin hair is for old ladies. Old ladies that rock comfortable shoes and support hose rolled down to just below the knee while wearing a servicable house dress...in the supermarket. Old ladies that call everyone baby and ask for suga and expectorate loudly and have large bosoms with reading glasses attached to a chain - worn without a hint of irony - as they rest atop the fleshy shelf.

They're the ones with hairy chins. In fact, they're supposed to have hairy chins. Its part of the package. I mean i was looking forward to having my hairy chin...in 50 years. When a lady sports a beard like its no thing it means she's arrived right? All her womanly duties have been performed. She's had children. She's been married. She turned some fine young thing out. She's seen and done it all, and now its ok to rock the goatee. But i haven't done any of these things. Whats next? Am i going to wake up tomorrow sounding like della reese? Hot flashes? Will i start buying tussy in bulk? I mean really. Where will it end? This is some next level egregiousness. I'm grinning and bearing but best believe its a whole lot more bearing than grinning going on.

So.

Other than my hairy situation -pun totally intended - I had a rather good weekend. It was excellent actually. I won't bore yall with details but i am happy to say i got some sun which i desperately needed because i was looking like the pale rider. My complexion was grossing me out. Thank goodness i tan and don't burn.

How was yalls weekend?

Also i've been slacking with my blog lately. I don't know if its that i've been too tired or too busy too write. Maybe a mixture of the two. I was thinking of vlogging, because i could record my thoughts just as fast as i think them - yall don't know how often i'll be typing and by the time i get to my next sentence i've forgotten what i was about to say - but then i realized that i pretty much hate my hearing my recorded voice. Plus i'd probably be all cindy brady staring at the red dot and looking like an idiot. And now with the chin hair issue...yeah. That'd be all wrong.

LOL @ MY DAD CALLING MUPPET BABIES 'SESAME PLACE KIDS'

He had me laughing for a straight five minutes with that one. Aren't parents so adorably clueless? Well sometimes anyway.

My brother and I used to stay watching muppet babies. Not that we are/were unique. I mean really. If you were a kid growing up in the 80s how could you NOT watch the muppet babies? We especially liked the indiana jones-ish sequences. And then there was the waiting for the ever elusive full body shot of Nanny. I've heard tell about a mythical episode where her face is visible, but i've never seen it. Its one of those friend of a friend of a friend rumors. You know;

"my boy's first cousin's girfriends uncle saw it."

Anyway i say all this to say...i know my dad has seen us watch that cartoon zillions of times. Like sitting in the family room with us. Watching us watch. So why he called them "sesame place kids" is beyond me. Especially since its easier to say muppet babies as opposed to sesame place kids. Besides the name of the show is in its theme song for goodness sake.

"muppet babies we make our dreams come true"
"muppet babies we'll do the same for you"

So how come he does not know that? lol its like how can you be a witness to the activities of your children - and still not be fully cognizant of whats going on? I guess i shouldn't be surprised though. This is the man that still calls the ninja turtles "ninja boys." Oh yes. Despite being made fun of and corrected ad nauseam his brain refuses to accept the raw data and convert it into information.

"Yall keep leaving those ninja boys around the house and im going to throw them away."

"Dad...they are teenage mutant ninja turtles"

"Don't they talk? Aren't they supposed to be boys?"

"yes...but they're turtles. The name of the cartoon is ninja turtles."

"Who cares, its a stupid cartoon anyway. Why in my day --"

I'll spare you guys the via appia that is my dad's mind but just so you can be informed the "--" signifies a diatribe about the inherent sillyness about anything that came into existence since the late 70s. Music, cartoons, movies, cars. There is no dissuading him of his opinions either. Basically he's ornery and you can't tell him nothing.

Wait a minute. Actually that sounds like me. OMG i've become my father.

Look at me exposing my family shame to yall.

So my sister got married yesterday. Mhmm yes she did. You're probably wondering about why i haven't mentioned pending nuptials heretofore. Ok you're probably not. I know yall aren't studying me, but could you please feign some interest? Thanks.

I hadn't mentioned it because i didn't know. My sister straight up came out of left field with this one. Just one day she came in talking about me and L___(the fool i was driving all over the city for) are getting married. Just like that. On some almost elopement steez. No if ands or buts. So guess what? They got married. It was supposed to be a small thing, no pomp and pageantry which i totally dig, but then my dad told my grandmom(his mother) my sister was getting married and she was not having it.

My grandmom is one of those kinds of folks who doesn't understand subtlety. Or opinions that differ from hers. No knock, thats just the way it is. So for my sister to have a small wedding(like 7 people) and then treating us all to an intimate dinner to follow just did not compute. So from the moment she heard of the wedding day(three days aforetime) she began cooking and planning and inviting. The guest list went from about seven to thirty and there was enough food for a hundred. I kid you not. Drinks too. Which is why i'm sitting here getting fractured on a seagrams "calypso colada" wine cooler. What? I know yall are not too siddity for a good old wine cooler. I mean i have a refined palate too, but its good to take a break from the krug every once in a while.

It was too late a date to rent a banquet hall(darn those june brides!), so the wedding/reception was held at my parent's house in the backyard. It actually turned out quite lovely. Of course we(me and my mom and my dad and brothers) were frazzled beasts, but other then sweating like stuck pigs everything went off without a hitch. I mean except for the hitching that was the actual marriage of course. Fortunately there were enough trees in the back yard so that during the ceremony folks had shade. Everyone claimed they were ok(i just knew folks were gonna faint) but as soon as the words "I do" were uttered, everyone bumrushed the house to take advantage of that sweet freon my dad had going on. lol.

So now my sister is married. I officially have a brother-in-law. I'm officially a sister-in-law. I can't say it feels any different. Wait am i supposed to feel any different? I know my sister feels different because she's a wife and stuff, but i mean nothing really has changed in my life save for the fact that i've acquired a new knucklehead to jone on. Mmm fresh blood. I hope my sister has warned him. It is weird though. My younger sister is married. Just like that.

Ohh so let me tell yall. In prep for this shindig, i went and got my hair done. Now yall know how big this is for me. Yall know i hate the salon. I avoid it like the plague and only go about three times a year. But my hair desperately needed professional attention and i figured that a wedding was as good an occasion as any to seek help. Well why did i make that fateful decision? That....that...woman cut off 4 inches of my hair!

Now i'm about to begin a rant, so you may want to click that 'x' in the top right corner. As i said before its up to you.

So she's like do you want your ends trimmed? And i go..."ok" because my hair refuses to grow evenly and my right side is always a bit longer than my left. But not so much longer that i look like im walking sideways. It really imperceptible but i obsess of my hair so i notice every flaw. I give her my assent and i see her pull out her shears. I close my eyes because i cannot bear to watch. I hear the first snip and relax enough to open my eyes because it didn't sound like she cut too much.

Yes, i too wonder at how hair can have a "volume of volume" But play along with me here, i was under much duress.

So i open my eyes and look in the mirror which happens to be angled in such a way that i can see the floor and why do i see about four inches of my locks laying on the ground, prostrate, only to be swept up as rubble by the washing girl? I sucked my breath and bit my lip. Oh no she didn't. I tell her to trim about half an inch and she took a mile?! I'm calling down all sort of evil upon this woman and she doesn't even know it. She's totally oblivious to the fact that i am this insane hair-woman and she's aroused the sleeping giant. See this is why my face is rarely in the place of a hairdresser. They totally can't be trusted.

I so badly want to tell her stop and just call the whole thing off but then i would have this stupid haircut and that wouldn't do either, so i just sat the whole thing out. Silently crying, outwardly smiling. Your girl is a trooper.

So she finishes cutting and styling me, and i look in the mirror. Its cute. Its shorter than i would like but its cute. I mean my heart is near beating out of my chest and im trying to stave off an aneurysm, but i manage to smile and thank the girl on a job well done.

The practical part of me is like its still long. Its reaches beyond my shoulder blades and i should stop being a baby. I really shouldn't be complaining. But the insane part of me is inconsolable. Like my hair used to be really long. Now its just regular long. I mean i'd still win in a battle between me and lloyd no doubt. Speaking of which have yall seen the hotness that is his new video? Have i shared with yall the little thing i have for lloyd? He's like a really sexy muppet. And his hair! I normally don't dig long hair on dudes but his is mmm mmm good. But yeah if we had a battle of the tresses i'd win, but just barely. I'd have to rely on my boobies to put me over the edge though, and that is bogus.

...

Stop looking at me like that. I C U judging.

And if you wondering if i've been chastised for succumbing to this particularly disgusting display of vanity, the answer is yes. Those i love have already called me on the carpet about my psycho hair obsession. I look at it this way...lots of people have lots of "things." I only have one "thing". And this one "thing" has got me trippin.

THE WEATHER IS HOT AND GIRLS ARE DRESSED IN LESS

Its skank season!

I would love to go into detail about the fashion tragedies i've witnessed in the past 48 hours, but im trying not to appear overly judgmental. Suffice it to say, its getting ugly out there folks. Real ugly.

My east coast peoples...how are yall enjoying this heat? Seems like one minute the weather was unseasonably cold and now: bladow! - hotter than july. I ain't complaining though(yet.)

I will admit that im sweltering...just a teensy bit. Unlike some of you privileged folks - i dont have central air. Mhmm i see you gasping. Can't believe it right? Yup its totally old school up in here, meaning lots of fans and lots of open windows. Not to mention the bugs that fly in because some of my screens have been compromised with age. Right now, as i type, there is an errant ladybug thats wreaking havoc with my emotions. I mean really, does the light cast from my monitor resemble sunlight? I didn't think so either. So why does the lady bug keep slamming into the screen? Ugh. I'm afraid to go to bed yall. I just know that ladybug is going to land on me while i sleep. No i'm not being ridiculous. This is what bugs do. They terrorize.

Normally i'd have the occasional air conditioning unit interspersed throughout the house to provide a much needed cool oasis. Only thing is the air conditioners are all in my basement(i take em out the window when the seasons change) and they are too heavy for me to bring up alone. So, i suffer. For now at least. Until i conscript some male volunteers for the task.

The humidity makes it difficult to preserve one's sexy though. Like its one thing to be hot, and another to look like you just stepped out of louie anderson's armpit. Straight raggedy. Doesn't stop dudes from hollering though.

Oh yeah, no offense my dudes - but yall are so gross sometimes. Pretty much.

I had to cross a very well traveled street, and about halfway through the light changed from green to yellow - which signaled for me to pick up my pace. Oh yes, i am not one of those people who saunter across the street even when they don't have the light. I am not willing to be a statistic just so i can look cute. I hate those people when i'm driving so i make a point to not be like that when i am a pedestrian. Its usually some teenagers too. No offense to teenagers im just saying. They stroll against the light and hold up traffic because they refuse to move their feet faster. Where is the home training? Why don't these kids fear for their lives? What if i was a drunk driver? What if i was a sick twisted individual who wanted to have some "fun"?

Let me let yall in on a secret.

Sometimes i daydream of accelerating and hitting one of them.

Now now, nothing serious...just a little tap with the front fender to knock the smug off his or her face. Maybe inflict a broken bone or two. Nothing six months in a cast won't fix. Im not trying to do anything life altering, i just want to scare them half to death. Am i wrong to even think of things like that? Probably. But this'll be a secret between us capisce? Its not right, but its ok.

Anyway where was i? So i'm crossing the street, and i have to break into a little brisk walk because the light turns yellow. So my bosoms are jostling and all i hear is whistling and some other typical male remarks. Embarrassing! I'm cursing my breasts and men all in one breath. I have my hand cross my heart like how you do when you jump rope, but that doesn't do much good. Im still bouncy bouncy fun fun fun fun fun © tigger. Quite an uncomfortable situation. I almost stopped running just so i could avoid the attention. Then i realized how much i like a being a breathing sentient being, and slowing down may change that situation. Avoiding unsolicited crudity is not worth my life. So bring it on. Look at them jiggle gentlemen. They're real and fabulous.

The heat is making the rest of me less fabulous though. I'm totally wilted and energy-less. My body is sticky. My feet are swollen. By the way, since when did i start having swollen feet? I never had that problem ever. That was always the malady for other people. Other meaning old. I swear my age is manifesting itself in new and exciting ways every day.

Thrill as she gets a new wrinkle! Gasp as she notices a new fatty deposit! Recoil in horror as a grey hair makes its first appearance!

This is what my life has come to folks. Preserving one's sexy over 25 is hard. I'm not going to lie to you. Its a total uphill battle. If i had known then what i know now i'd have stayed 24. No...23. 23 was a good year. Sho yo' right. I'd employ some of that sith goodness that you can't learn from a jedi and be the ever-ingenue.

I SHOULD BE ASLEEP

I swear i'm the most long suffering person in the whole entire world, ever. Mhmm. Totally.

Yes i said that with a straight face and i don't care if yalls eyes are rolling, just as long as your reading. :)

Now let me explain why i am blogging at nigh on 2 in the morning ok?

I just finished picking up my sister's dude from some random recording studio. He's some sort of struggling frustrated musician. Actually i don't know if he's struggling or if its more of a hobby, but at this late hour who cares. My eyes are tired and my brain went to bed about 2 hours ago.

Anyhoo my sister called me @ around 12:15 this evening -or should i say morning - talking about:

"can you pick L____ from the studio?"

My immediate thought was she was that she was trippin. Buggin even. I said as much. In fact, the exact words that came out of my mouth were "you MUST be out of your ever lovin' mind."

I mean 10 years ago, i would have been annoyed because i was inconvenienced, but the hour wouldn't have meant anything to me. Now that i'm old as dirt, words like time and bed and sleep have suddenly taken on new meaning. I needs my rest. I wish i could party like a rockstar but that ain't happening. After midnight im in the bed. I might not be asleep but i'm in the bed heading in that direction.

I know, i cry for my youth too.

Of course, despite my protestation, im a real softy which means i made the trek to go pick that fool up. I mean how could i say no? He's a foreigner(london) which means he was all stranger in a strange land and who am i to leave him subject to the vagaries of SEPTA? I mean it would be funny, but it wouldn't be nice. Our public transportation is a doozy even to regular riders, i wouldn't want to put that on a n00b.


So my sister has me driving through all sort of crazy neighborhoods trying to find the "studio" which is really a house on some random block that used to be condemned but is now labeled "up and coming" which means hardcore gentrification. So we're wandering around looking for the address(oh yes she came with me) and its a weird contrast of slum and pristine. Kind of like outfit i left the house with, because at the late hour i did not give a flying -

I was totally scandalous, at least according to my standards. There are certain ways i will and will not walk out of the house, and tonight i was breaking rules left and right. Black tights and black shirt, no socks and some broke down chuck taylors(like the only sneaker i own) a ratty baseball cap. I was praying i didn't see anybody i knew lest i die of shame. I threw on the leather jacket but my butt was still hanging out in a vulgar fashion. Gross. I threw on my signature gold hoops but they could not save the fug that i was presenting to the world(or at least the freaks that come out at night) as i left the house.

Anyway.

We finally find the block and he's standing outside the house/studio looking like tiny tim. All lost and meek looking. It would have been hilarious if i hadn't been already feeling churlish at being put in such a predicament. He was all hugged up against the facade, and if im not mistaken he looked mighty relieved when he saw that the car slowing down was us(and not the random thug)when he gets in the car we're like how long have you been waiting outside?

"45 minutes"

Lord. Why did he wait outside in the hood looking like he just walked out of piccadilly circus? Total mark. Anyway we picked him up and they proceeded to talk to each other(rude!) while i played chauffeur. I swear. The things i do because i love (some)people.