tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65219937468545578192024-03-16T07:11:02.010-04:00Chronicles:A Quarter Life CrisisChaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.comBlogger193125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-27038336318211121272011-04-08T18:25:00.005-04:002011-04-08T18:37:16.500-04:00Change in Location - I'm Blogging on Wordpress!I've moved on from this blog but I don't have the heart to take this down. Please check me out at <a href="http://snarkyasiwant2b.wordpress.com/">http://snarkyasiwant2b.wordpress.com/</a><br /><br /><span class="fullpost"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-71013730184703695352010-12-16T22:20:00.007-05:002010-12-17T07:04:04.257-05:00Random Iskabibbles – Is Monogamy a Joke?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TQrZgUxDzVI/AAAAAAAAAro/nV-BWQ4RtLE/s1600/polygamy_2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 307px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TQrZgUxDzVI/AAAAAAAAAro/nV-BWQ4RtLE/s320/polygamy_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551488640041078098" /></a><br /><br />Of late I’ve been staying up to catch the shenanigans over at <a href="http://www.verysmartbrothas.com/">VSB</a>. The blog is very well written and takes a sometimes comical approach to men, women and this thing we call love and relationships. New posts arrive promptly at the stroke of 12AM and then the magic happens. The comment lounge has become my hangout spot…I feels at home even though I’m just a lurker.<br /><br />Yesterday’s post penned by Champ, <a href="http://www.verysmartbrothas.com/if-women-ruled-the-dating-world-would-monogamy-still-exist/">“If Women Ruled the Dating World Would Monogamy Still Exist?</a>” got me thinking about what it means to truly be 100% monogamous to someone. It also made me lose a bit of beverage, specifically at this…<em>there’s absolutely nothing more damaging to the well-being of society than an abundance of perpetually sexually frustrated men. (Why? Well, perpetually sexually frustrated men kill random people and occasionally kill random people in bulk). </em> Touche!<br /><br />Is it possible to be monogamous, the practice of having only one mate at a time? In our society we are told that the rightful order of things goes something like this:<br /><br />Boy and Girl meet<br />Boy pursues Girl<br />Girl agrees and accepts Boy’s pursuit<br />Courtship begins<br />Love blossoms<br />Boy and Girl marry (promising to love, honor and do the grown up with only each other)<br />Girl and Boy have 2.3 children and live happily ever after<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />What the storybook fails to mention is that life rarely happens this way. I would argue that even though our goal is monogamy it is not our practice especially with research suggesting a 30-60% chance that your partner will commit some form of infidelity. We all fall short. In reality we subscribe to assumed monogamy and to some degree live happily as long as we don’t see, hear or smell cheating. Even with good intentions sometimes something new is just that something new. I’d even argue that is it 100% possible to cheat, for lack of a more technical term, on your significant other and still 100% love that person. Variety is the spice of life and not for nothing every person is not great at everything. This is not to say that monogamy is impossible but damn if it ain’t highly improbable.<br /><br />Case in point the person who fixes your car is probably not the same person who does your taxes. In our society folks specialize, becoming an expert in one area of life while just being average or ok in others. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this and hell that’s the way capitalism made us. Renaissance men are a needle in a haystack which means finding emotional support, financial assistance and chexual satisfaction in a single body, in this day is damn hard. I’d even go out on a limb and say that most of us compromise on one or more of these things in order to fit the monogamous model society set for us. As a result of said compromise some, remember 30-60%, fall weak at the feet of a specimen possessing one of your compromised elements.<br /><br /><em>I don’t think there’s anything wrong with compromise because let’s face it, most of us aren’t hitting the mark on all the items I mentioned above either. Accept that you’re a specialized being as well and hope that someone is willing to compromise your hashish and call it love.</em><br /><br />But even knowing the above I would still argue against Champ and say that if I ruled the world, I’d free all my sons…oh wait that’s a song. What I mean to say, his thought process is not off balance in theory. (And let’s be clear his theory was focused on polygyny meaning a man can take more than one wife not polyandry where a woman can take more than one husband.) In theory women are driven by security more than anything and it would stand to reason that being a sister-wife provides more security than a single-wife. But only if we equate security to finance, to site Champ…<em>one seven figure earning man can support 10 women easier than one $50k a year guy can support one.</em> For some women security (and when I say security I mean financial security) is the only thing that matters. I’m not sold that financial security drives all women today though. Like communism while fantabulous in theory hits a big not gonna happen wall in practice.<br /><br />In sheer numbers alone this can’t work. I could be wrong but I think the US population is about 300 million. Half of that being able bodied adults so 150 million. Based on the US economy, only 0.1% (150,000) of US households earn a seven figure salary and that figure includes women. For the pure funk of it, let’s say that that number does not. Multiplying that figure by 10 (assuming that one seven figure gent could handle 10 women successfully which I doubt given my taste for Gucci handbags) it would still only cover what 1% (1,500,000) of the adult population. Of course my numbers could be wrong since I only took Excursions in Mathematics and White Collar Statistics in college. <br /><br />While we’re at it let’s be even more realistic and say that a lot of women, sorry chicas I am a proud card carrying member of the titay committee, can be batsh*t crazy when it comes to romantic love. Must I bring out the cracking e-mail/cellphone generalized internet stalking cookbook written by and for women? Did I need to go there? Those things alone clearly point to the fact that most women aren’t down with <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=opp&defid=2085332">OPP</a>. <br /><br />Of course there’s always a wrinkle to this theory. Honestly I believe any woman married to a politician, famous actor or sports star knowingly practices a form of polygamy. Yes that is my opinion. You are free to disagree. Knowing that slores follow money and power and men are generally swayed by poon if thrown hard enough it would be borderline retarded to believe any of these men are faithful. Yes I am a cynic. But seriously if <a href="http://www.shuttervoice.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/troy_polamalu_01.jpg">Troy Polamalu</a> type men were in my face everyday offering the peen with no strings I’m not sure how long I could turn that offer down. Honestly I’d break out of sheer want to try it-ness. Temptation is a snaggatoof bish. <br /><br />Additionally I’m not silly enough to believe there aren’t women who prefer mistress status, especially since 2010 was a Ho-a-thon. I can’t remember a better year for the Ho in all my 29 years on this planet. Ho aspirations hit an all time high. And not for nothing Hos stayed winning this year*cough*Alicia Keys*cough* with the exception of Kat Stacks. The 1% discussed above swallows up knowing polygamist and gutter butts. Unfortunately that leaves a whole 99% of the female population that won’t get down with the get down for the sheer mathematics or the batsh*t craziness of it all.<br /><br />At the end of the day if women ruled the dating world I don’t think it would be any different than it is today. People believe and agree to monogamy while practicing pseudo polygamy. Meaning, that on the surface we are with one person while secretly entertaining others, if you don’t believe this you have no better place to look but to the 30-60% infidelity rate. Clearly lots of folks aren’t practicing what they preach. Hell folks go to great lengths to live in a world of oblivion about their significant other’s outside trysts. Ignorance is bliss.<br /><br />Maybe I’m jaded, what do you think?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-57406680912645676312010-12-15T19:29:00.007-05:002010-12-15T19:39:37.673-05:00Midweek Nonsense – Benson is an Abusive Liar…<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TQldjG-LDZI/AAAAAAAAArg/wW_M5FSYlJo/s1600/benson"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TQldjG-LDZI/AAAAAAAAArg/wW_M5FSYlJo/s320/benson" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551070873459035538" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small; "><b><i>Actual picture of Benson!</i></b></span></div><br /><br />This morning I learned something fascinating about my cat. Actually it’s not really fascinating as much as it answers questions and proves that I’m not losing my mind. Sometimes I leave items on my kitchen counter and walk into my living room or my bedroom to get something, answer my phone, or catch a glimpse of <a href="http://www.shuttervoice.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/08/troy_polamalu_01.jpg">Troy Polamalu</a>, whatever. When I come back into the kitchen said item will be on the floor. Granted <a href="http://chaoticallycalm.blogspot.com/2009/07/weekly-rant-wtfseriously-wtf.html">The Little Brother is an odd ball at times</a> I know he’s not a child and wouldn’t just knock something on the floor and walk away. But with no other human in the house who could have done such a thing, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfh4Mhp-a6U">dramatic squirrel</a>. As it turns out Benson my sometimes couch snug-bud when the Little Brother isn’t looking can jump onto the kitchen counter. Ain’t this a bish!<br /><br />Back story, I have two cats because the Little Brother felt one cat might get lonely. Benson is the alpha male. He dominates poor Stabler to the point that I question if there is a domestic violence situation I should report to the vet. Stabler displays abused wife/child behaviors. When you reach for him he shrinks away as if you want to hit him. This is not by either my hands or those of my brother, we don’t believe in animal cruelty so I chalk this up to the kamikaze-esque attacks Benson levies on Stabler during the day. However, Stabler is agile. He leaps higher, runs faster and overall out athletes Benson. I guess he has to, given Benson’s abusive nature. Not to mention Benson is probably about 5-10 noticeable lbs overweight.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />But now I know all of Benson’s laziness is nothing but an act, sneaky bish. This morning I was cutting an apple that I planned to take for my all day snack (I eat apple slices periodically throughout the day, one because apples are natural breath fresheners and two because they are delicious). In the middle of chopping I noticed that Benson stole my purple stripped gloves out of my purse. As I ran after him with the angry voice, angry voice only works on canines, he eventually tired, because he’s <strike> fat </strike> weight challenged and dropped them in the middle of the living room floor. As I stooped down to pick up my gloves I hear the knife fall to the kitchen floor, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfh4Mhp-a6U">dramatic squirrel</a>. <br /><br />Knowing my brother is in his room I dash to kitchen with shoe in hand ready to assault the assailant with the heel only to find Benson on the counter. WTF!!! Although he should have been the one in shock to be caught with his pecker in a cheap ho he just gave me that whatever bish look, hopped down and began drinking his water. Are you serious, at least this is what I was thinking? Benson is a lying ass ninja cat that’s been wooling (do you like how I made wool a verb) my eyes for years about his actual physical fitness. That noticeable 5-10lbs of overweightness (yup just made that one up) clearly isn’t stopping him. Granted I thought Stabler given his athleticism could easily hop on the counter but given his meek manner he accepts that the window seal is the highest place in the house he’s allowed. Not that bish Benson.<br /><br />After the shock of the situation wore off I yelled to my brother explaining what had just happened. His response, “You know what, that’s because he’s fat!”<br /><br />I try not to delve into the logic that is The Little Brother but sometimes he says stuff like that and I can’t resist.<br /><br />Me: What? You realize that makes no sense right?<br />The Little Brother: Huh, everything that Benson does is because he’s fat.<br /><br />I sincerely hope he was trying to be funny.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-86227490374291474422010-12-09T19:20:00.002-05:002010-12-15T19:26:47.793-05:00Midweek Nonsense: Am I to Believe that Thursday’s are just Batsh*t Crazy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TQlbgHmIO7I/AAAAAAAAArY/VRr08qsvRnQ/s1600/r7%2Bsepta%2Btrain.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TQlbgHmIO7I/AAAAAAAAArY/VRr08qsvRnQ/s320/r7%2Bsepta%2Btrain.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551068623063759794" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>This is the R7 - the train I actually catch to go downtown to work!</i></b></div></span><br /><div><br /></div><div>Now maybe it was the fact that I was riding the train, or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s Thursday but today was another peculiar one. Again, started with hitting the snooze, maybe I should avoid this feature going forward. Thankfully I fed the cats out of their dish instead of leaving the bag of cat food on their mat.<br /><br />In any event I was running a little late, no doubt due to snoozing, and as I hustled out of the apartment I noticed I was missing my gloves. I am a creature of habit and if one thing is out of place it throws a black hole in my day. Anyway I was missing my black speckled gloves so I substituted with my purple stripe. As I made my way to the train, per habit, I reach into the front pocket of my bag to grab my ear buds. To my horriprise, I was missing the ear buds as well. Since I was running late I had no time to turn around and right the wrong. Braving the element without music is pretty devastating in my world. <br /><br /><em>Not to mention today was as cold as a witches tit-tay, I mean blustery. Large gusts of what I like to call Philarctic (combination of Philadelphia and Arctic) air molested my inner thighs with each long legged stride. Believe it or not, I don’t wear dress pants in the winter opting instead to wear skirts. </em><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Once I was on the train and could again feel my fingers and toes I whipped out the trusty iPhone and settled in for the 20 minute ride downtown. I was seated with my back to the main cabin while facing one other passenger. I detest this view because I like to look at everyone on the train and make up stories about their lives based on their appearance. The passenger I was facing seemed normal enough, in that college professor sort of way. He was wearing a sweater with a button up shirt underneath, brown corduroy pants, loafers and an oversized black pea coat, very warm and sensible. I noted he had freckles like two of my uncles an uncommon but highly noticeable trait in black Americans.<br /><br />I smiled as I sat down next to him and quickly busied myself with reading blogs. Since I didn’t have soulful sounds to soothe me on the trip downtown I could at least get a heads up on my blog reading for the day. With head tilted I could still see the College Professor out of my peripherals, not that I was watching him but hey thieves come in all shapes, sizes and colors, you can never be too careful. <br /><br />After about 10 minutes or so the College Professor whips out an iPhone but it doesn’t look like he’s reading anything or answering a call, more like he’s trying to get an angle to take a picture. Initially I pay this no mind and keep reading blogs but then it kind of looks like he’s taking a picture of me. I brush this off as my mind playing tricks on me but after another minute or two it really looks like he’s trying to take picture of me so I stop reading and give him the WTF are you doing face. When he catches my glance he looks super guilty and quickly pulls his phone back and looks out the window. About two minutes later this whole cycle of events plays again, ODD!<br /><br />By this time I’m heated and a little torn. Part of me wanted to grab his phone and see if he’d actually snapped a shot of me and the other part was talking me off the ledge. I don’t like when right and left brain are not on one accord. Of course I was too distracted to continue reading so I let my eyes burn a whole in his head. I stared the College Professor down for the rest of the ride. I’m sure this made him uncomfortable but I’d prefer he get a little shrinkage from fear vs growth from perverted arousal on my dime. Miraculously he was finished fiddling with this phone.<br /><br /><em>Part of me wanted to put this perv on blast, air him out for the whole train to see what a loser he is. I stopped myself from doing this because I could have been completely wrong. Maybe he was reading something and holds his phone awkwardly as if he were taking a picture, me no know!</em><br /><br />As we arrived at Suburban Station he actually reached out his hand in an attempt to touch my shoulder. Luckily I still prescribe to the Matrix school of defense and ducked his shoulder tap Neo style. He quickly pulled his hand back as I said, “Why are you trying to touch me? If you need to get off the train, you can say excuse me and I will make room.” <br /><br />He mumbled, “OK well this is my stop, I need to get off.”<br /><br />Even though it was also my stop I let him exit the train completely before I picked up my purse and made my way out the door. Maybe it’s me but I think I need to stop taking the train in the morning. <br /><br />Did I make more of this situation than I should have? Would you have asked him if he took a picture of you given the exchange of events? Was I wrong to pitch a bytch when he tried to touch my shoulder?<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span></div>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-13034971947920787192010-12-02T06:58:00.006-05:002010-12-10T07:15:18.137-05:00Random Iskabibbles: Cheap Apartments, Bowlegged Cowboys and Hi-Top Fades!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TQIZjjFchuI/AAAAAAAAArQ/Uw9Vt-tySA4/s1600/high-top%2Bfade%2Bbarbershop.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TQIZjjFchuI/AAAAAAAAArQ/Uw9Vt-tySA4/s320/high-top%2Bfade%2Bbarbershop.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549025789378070242" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The guy on the train wasn't as fly</span></i>!</div><br />Peculiar morning, no? It was for me even if it wasn’t for you. I woke up and hit the snooze button, not typical Faith behavior. Normally I’m awake before the alarm blares and watch the fluorescent numbers change until 6:36AM. I have no scientific evidence to back this theory but I’ve decided my need to control things makes me wake up before the alarm sounds. It’s a false sense of security. <br /><br />Snoozing was just the start. Typically when I finish dressing for work I walk into the kitchen and feed the cats. For whatever reason instead of giving the cats their food bowl I laid the bag of cat food on their feeding mat and placed their food dish underneath the sink where the bag belongs. I walked away for a second and then realized the error of my ways, odd! Clearly this was just as disturbing to the cats who took to staring at me blankly. But then again maybe not as cats never really stare knowingly in my opinion they are more blank than emotional. I truly dislike their coldness but I feel compelled to have a pet. I’ve always had a pet and can’t see existing without one. I might need to discuss this compulsion with someone.<br /><br />Anywho, because I was slightly off my normal schedule the iron was still hot and I felt uneasy about wrapping it up and placing it in the closet. But I did. I felt like it might melt something on the top shelf. I thought about this during my walk to the train station. Oh did I forget to mention that now that I am working in the city regularly I take the train twice a week when my brother can’t drive me because of his dialysis appointment.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />On my less than five minute walk to the train station I was almost hit by a car driving no more than 10 miles per hour. As I tried to maneuver around him he tried to park in the space I was standing in. In his defense I was in the only parking space still available in front of the free clinic. Yes I live around the corner from a free clinic, #dontjudgeme. My apartment is ridonkulously cheap for its size but for what it makes up for in space it loses in neighborhood appeal. I won’t speak on the seedy characters that I see on a daily basis. Being home more often may force my hand to make that move.<br /><br />And when I say move I don’t mean living with The Spaniard. Ever since having my license plate stolen twice I’ve toyed with the idea of moving out of the neighborhood and truly embracing my boughie. Of course with my hectic travel schedule that thought only occurred to me when I had extended stays in my apartment, so like once every quarter. Not enough to make me actually look for a new place. Don’t confuse my ploys to be grown up by acquiring a realtor and looking at condos as a realistic search for a new place. I toyed with the idea of adulthood through purchasing something I <strike>definitely</strike> probably can’t afford comfortably. Besides I don’t want a place without a family or the guise of a family.<br /><br />On the train I noticed a couple of things that struck my fancy and something that disturbed me a bit. I’ll start with the fancy because that’s more interesting…I think! So there was this guy sitting half way down the train car who resembled my College Crush. I would have liked to see him walk because I like watching men walk, it’s one of my things and because my College Crush was bowlegged. Although considered a flaw in adults, I find it very very fascinating and sezy. I don’t know why. So much so I looked it up on Wikipedia when I came into work this morning to find out the actual medical term, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genu_varum">Genu Varum</a>.<br /><br />That had me thinking a little bit about college and how I almost had the nerve to tell College Crush that I had a thing for him, which I honestly think was mutual…it helps my ego so go with it. In the middle of my speech, which I wrote out the night before, I was rudely interrupted by an envious lesbian. To this day I still fault her for my inability to disclose my true feelings to him. I ended our friendship shortly thereafter because I couldn’t look at her face without replaying my missed opportunity. Sure I know this makes no sense but I remember her bringing it up in casual conversation saying something like, “Wow did you see how College Crush looked at you, you’d have thought you were about to tell him you loved him or something, ha ha!”<br /><br />It also made me think about the betrayal I felt when a close acquaintance of mine <strike>sucked him off one night</strike> dated him briefly during our senior year. She totally betrayed my trust. I confided in her that I’d been crushing on this guy since freshmen year when we sat next to each other in soc class. At first she said something like why and then I explained all his amazing qualities, one of them being his super smartness. He graduated Summa Cum Laude. <em>Big…brains do it for me all the time!</em> Additionally he was athletically inclined, tall, broad shouldered, handsome in that rugged cowboy way and he was a genuine sweetheart. For instance he’d always give me his sweatshirt in criminology classes because the building was outrageously cold.<br /><br />Not that it was right but yes I actually laughed at her when she told me he was a loser for never calling her afterwards. She deserved that treatment for being a backstabbing skank not to mention he liked taller girls with a little more chesticles, I know this from the few girls who were privileged enough to be called his girlfriend. In my mind I was clearly a shoe in, this didn’t combat my nervousness though. Fear crippled me after being interrupted by the lesbian and well I missed an opportunity at something or nothing. Who knows it will always be one of those things I wonder about. I hate not having closure though I won’t lie. It did teach me that if there is something or someone you want, go for it. Never allow fear to consume you to the point it inhibits your ability to act because it will always be your loss.<br /><br /><em>Does it make me a stalker that I’ve tried to find him on Facebook multiple times with no success?</em><br /><br />Anywho, I then noticed a couple sitting about two aisles away on the train. I started to think that it must be weird to both live and work with your spouse. When would you get that me time that everyone needs? I pocketed that thought because the female portion of the duo missed her mouth and spilled a whole bunch of coffee down the front of her shirt. This in and of itself didn’t capture my eye, it was the male portion of the duo <strike>coping a feel</strike> assisting in cleaning. Interesting, she’s going to be very embarrassed for the rest of the day. It was a cream blouse. I also noticed the guy hold back a laugh. The chick wasn’t too amused but next time I’m sure she’ll be more careful.<br /><br />Before reaching my destination, Suburban Station, the train stops at the Gallery. There’s always a line-up of passengers getting off at this station. One of them that stuck out to me by hair initially was a gentlemen with a freshly cut <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HLRZVGJGy04/SrELhaF4D4I/AAAAAAAAAlM/otb09YwAewk/s400/beats02-lg.jpg">hi-top fade</a>. I know that 90’s fashions are the rage and I’m sort of riding the bandwagon but in this instance the unkempt trying to be curly nappy hi-top fade made me want to earl a bit in my mouth. If that wasn’t enough to upset my morning breakfast, once Mr. 90’s was in full body length view he was wearing a pair of women’s rain boots and the tightest stone washed black jeans I’ve ever seen on a man. I think he noticed me staring at him. I apologize for the judgment but seriously dude, I mean seriously!<br /><br />But the topper, the icing on this strange ride to the work and slightly disturbing, the noticeably disheveled husky man in the tan pea coat who kept making eyes at me. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing any socks with his dress shoes. It was definitely cold this morning and he was actually sockless, spooky right? If the car were empty besides the two of us I’d have been real afraid, like snatch a piece of my cootie frightened. And I don’t scare easily. I mean seriously my fright meter is way up there. Granted the fear could have been coming from a place of non-comfort with the fact that someone I found less than attractive was giving me the I wanna lick your neck look. But I really think it was more because he looked like an ex serial killer, at any moment ready to return from sabbatical with a vengeance.<br /><br />Peculiar morning, no?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-9230555420956778642010-12-01T18:02:00.001-05:002010-12-02T18:14:29.749-05:00Mid Week Nonsense: Green Eyes of Jealousy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TPglxbGB65I/AAAAAAAAAq4/5e3tfqGpsFs/s1600/green%2Beyes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 360px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TPglxbGB65I/AAAAAAAAAq4/5e3tfqGpsFs/s400/green%2Beyes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546224472123632530" /></a><br /><br />Under normal circumstances I am not a jealous person. I rarely ask The Spaniard who he was with or where he’s been. It’s not because I don’t care…well a little of it is because I don’t care but to some degree I operate under the system that any dirt that you do will eventually come to light. My battles with him come down to when I’m actually in his presence. He incomparable to any other knows how to trample my last nerve. And I’m not a violent person but I’ve wanted to, in the not so recent past, punch him in the face MMA style.<br /><br />But yesterday I felt something odd. We were talking, just chatting really about nothing in particular. OK we were talking about nude beaches and if I agreed with him that they were a no go. In honesty I don’t care. My concern, be respectful. If a woman or man for that matter drops trou at the beach it isn’t for your viewing pleasure, this ain’t the sckrippa club. Don’t ogle some chick because she’s got a great body and cause Mr. Happy to get…you know Happy! <br /><br /><em>Sidenote I don’t have an issue with sckrippa clubs either, if you wanna pay for something folks show for free be my guest just don’t come to me afterwards smelling of rachet gutter butt hos or classy tramp perfume. Both will get you major side eye action.</em><br /><span class="fullpost"><br />He kept going on and on about men wearing shorts above the knee which he also considers a no go. I told him that if his inner metrosex sought my approval for such, he had my blessing. Considering his partial European upbringing I expect latent metrosexual behavior…it’s kind of a given. American men are overly masculine while the rest of the world, save for the Caribbean islanders, march the masculinity/femininity thin line. <br /><br /><em>Yes I know I just stereotyped men, whatever it’s my unscientific biased opinion so lump it.</em><br /><br />None of this made my pressure rise or my antennae perk. But mid conversation just as one passenger left and another entered his cab the wind shifted. Granted the nude beach convo was going nowhere but I was just bored enough to continue with it a little while longer. There was a casual exchange between him and the rider, clearly someone he knew. Most of these people I recognize by name but not this one. I could hear her voice, soft, happy and young I’d bet money between 25-30 give or take a year or two. She asked him about his day, he answered in Spanish, mas o menos (rough translation alright literal translation more or less moving right along). Then this chick asked him to spot her some money to get lunch and he agreed, where they do that at??????<br /><br />What did I listen to? Is this normal passenger cabbie talk or some other hashish that requires sleuthing? And I totally disapprove of the flirty Spanish talk. Anyway, antennae perked pressure slightly above normal I was at a loss for words. This never happens. Normally I am quick tongued but I immediately felt white hot with anger impeding my ability to talk. I kept turning the small but very telling conversation between this not so random passenger and The Spaniard around in my head. Then he awkwardly mumbled something like, I’ll talk to later ok, dial tone.<br /><br />This is the same man who called me back angry after I accidently hung up the phone on him screaming about never ending a conversation with OK. He never ends any conversation even if he’s angry with me by saying talk to you later or OK. He always says I’ll see you soon hun or bye love…am I tripping?<br /><br />Am I becoming one of those girls that sniff tests? Have I morphed into that girl? You know the one who sits outside of her boyfriend’s house/apartment when she knows he’s home and calls him to ask where he is to see if he lies? Did I just stumble into the realm of crazy jealous? Am I taking a brief conversation between casual acquaintances out of context? Is my gut right when it tells me to bring this up in random conversation to see if he stutters and if I get a whiff he’s lying about this bish chuck the deuces? See and there you have it I just called some female I don’t know from jump street a foul name at the hint she’s drinking my kool-aid. <br /><br /><em>I have no clue where jump street is and I’m not even sure where that colloquialism comes from. Not to mention I’ve declared ownership over The Spaniard, this isn’t 1815 as far as I can surmise slavery no longer exists. </em><br /><br />This is weird crazy jealous woman hashish I know it is but I can’t stamp the thought out of my head. I’m obsessing about it a little. And you know what I blame this on, my current employment situation…if I were consulting busy my mind wouldn’t have a chance to over-process nonsense. Oh see the right side of my brain, you know the practical side that processes things logically, told me to stop this hours ago, but the left side, creative domain also known as drama girl central won’t let it go hence the blogpost.<br /><br />So am I blowing this out of proportion? Side note, jealousy much like wool itches and is uncomfortable without a camisole. Me no like it!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-72942557219712917852010-11-29T18:29:00.004-05:002010-11-29T18:47:03.211-05:00Week-in-Review & Weekend Update a.k.a the Haps since Nov. 19th: Happy Turkey Day, The Little Sister’s Short Return, and Hospital Runs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TPQ3izUdSkI/AAAAAAAAAqw/-c_LtM5pGFw/s1600/thanksgiving%2Bpicture.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 365px; height: 325px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TPQ3izUdSkI/AAAAAAAAAqw/-c_LtM5pGFw/s400/thanksgiving%2Bpicture.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545118112231017026" /></a><br /><br />This was the first Thanksgiving since Wander’s split from The Man Wander Married. I guess I should call him my dad but that would provide a level of respect for him that I no longer hold. Such as life! Initially we were going to spend the holiday with Granny SJ but hella typical of my mom’s family that plan changed. Granny SJ decided she didn’t want everyone at her house for the holiday and opted, as normal, to spend the day with Grannie Frannie and her clan. I don’t let my grandmother’s shows of favoritism hurt my feelings. I’ve chalked it up to the way things are, at least for my family anyway. I can’t say the same for Wander. Even though she says she doesn’t care, I’m not sure I believe that.<br /><br /><em>Side note can I still use hella sort of like can I still wear my Ugg Boots…not 100% sure about this. I’d appreciate if someone shed some light. Thanks in advance. </em><br /><br />Since Granny SJ kicked us out of her festivities I opened my home for the holiday. I didn’t invite the Spaniard, (there’s no hidden relationship angst there but as noted he is devotedly Muslim and doesn’t celebrate any other holidays and at this point does he really need invites…yeah there’s hidden relationship angst there who am I kidding) but the Little Brother invited his piece of the moment. I shouldn’t disrespect his chick but I’ve yet to meet this strumpet so I can call her all types of off color adjectives until I put face to name. Honestly I doubt that she’s a slore, my brother is out of that phase…I think. Honestly I am the least of my brother’s worries. I’m the nice sister. It’s the little one that’s a handful. She’s super protective…as am I but in a different way. I allow everyone to make his own mistakes and then say I told you so…I kid…only slightly!<br /><br /><em>Sometimes I wonder how my brother feels being trapped betwixt two crazy sisters?</em><br /><br />Of course I was on deck to pick The Little Sister up from the train station upon her return home for the holiday. I mean why wouldn’t I, considering my position within the family as the resident chauffeur and problem solver. As a result I pushed aside plans with The Spaniard. He rode the crimson wave about this all weekend with a little bleeding into the Thanksgiving week. In casual conversation I had to listen to how my sister/friends always ruin our plans. My rebuttal to this was simple, grow up! Clearly he missed the memo disclosing that he is not the sun so my revolutions aren’t always around him. <br /><span class="fullpost"><br />In my defense, not that I should have to defend myself, I did make it plain that my weekend and holiday week was zip-lock tight. Maybe he should consider compromise, rip his arse off his shoulders, and partake in the holiday season especially ones that aren’t religious in nature. Technically Thanksgiving is an American holiday. He’s an American the last time I checked, dual citizenship and hashish. Although some celebrate it with Christian overtones it is not technically religious. If he embraced his American-ness a little he wouldn’t have been the odd man out for the past few weeks…I mean it makes sense to me. Hell he doesn’t hear me complain about his inability to give me a hug during Ramadan or the fact that most Fridays he’s conveniently unavailable. Of course the line is drawn in the sand at the mosque. I’d give major o_0 (stank eye) if he ever asked me to attend then I’d politely decline. My compromising extent stops there. <br /><br />But anywho, Pudding Pop invited us over to her place for Thanksgiving dessert. We never showed but I did let her know it was just a maybe, nothing definite. Wander was pretty exhausted after late night practice and rising early to sing in the Philadelphia Thanksgiving Day Parade. I rode her exhaustion to the bank. I just wasn’t in the mood to cram into my cousin’s apartment and play board games. Hey I’d been running around carting people here and there on top of cooking, cleaning and stroking The Spaniard’s ego. Like any normal human, I was tired. <br /><br />In any event Thanksgiving dinner was fantabulous. It was very intimate just my immediate family. The Little Brother’s floozy made other arrangements. It felt like old times in that we laughed it up all night and I was happy. I spent the following day with The Spaniard toy shopping for his niece and nephew and my Godson. Toys r Us had relatively decent sales. We joked about going broke for kids that aren’t even ours…I held back a mini panic attack under the guise of an awkward silence and kept it moving. <br /><br />The infamous apartment conversation reared its ugly head again. I don’t know another way to communicate No other than No. I’m not interested in moving in with him right now! Note the time reference, I’m not saying ever, just not now. I know I’m hurting his feelings, men are so fragile, but I’m not ready for co-habitation without real commitment. And if you read real commitment as <a href="http://tacori.com/Engagement-Rings#/2565RD9">engagement ring</a> you’d be 100% right, not that I’m close to being ready for that either. Besides the Little Brother hasn’t been feeling well lately and well he needs me. And as sad as it sounds my brother needing me is more important to me than playing house with The Spaniard. My brother has never let me down…clearly I haven’t let go of the past completely. I’m a bottler so lump it.<br /><br />On Saturday I planned on spending time with The Best Friend searching for updates to my Godson’s room. Can you believe he’s six? I can’t. Anywho we scooped up some good finds, posters and other little odds and ends. Pudding Pop was still insisting on spending some time so I cut out early on my bestie and headed back to the city to play board games with the familia. Added bonus, my cousin from Tampa was here celebrating my ex-aunt’s birthday and had left her kids with Pudding Pop. This was my first time seeing her two daughters and the last time I’d seen her son he was so shy it was like not seeing him.<br /><br />Y’all know I’m allergic to children under age ten except my Godson, but the kids were cute and I actually had a pretty decent time. Awkwardly holding the smallest one wasn’t horrible and she had that scumptilicious new baby smell with pudgy cheeks, that’s how they sucker folks…not I! By 10:30PM I was beyond tired and had to call it a night even though the rug rats were wide awake. I have no clue what manufacturers put in those juice packs…probably coke of the snort-snort variety. Granted I’d been up since 4:00AM carting the Little Sister to the train station; yeah an older sister’s duties are never done.<br /><br /><em>It didn’t even seem like the Little Sister was home…could be because I didn’t let her stay at my apartment. Such as life!</em><br /><br />In other news, The Man Wander Married ended up being rushed to the hospital. It seems his lungs collapsed and they needed to remove a bubble or something like that. Sounds eerily like cancer to me. Instead of calling my mom or having someone call one of us he opted to call his sister who in-turn had her daughter send me a FB message. Yeah you read that right, a FB message. Of all the random arse backward stupid hashish! <br /><br /><em>Mind you I’ve had the same cell phone number since 1999…WTF!</em><br /><br />I feel torn about his recent health development. I mean when I was rushed to the hospital The Man Wander Married (TMWM) wasn’t even notified and even if he was he wouldn’t have shown, of this I’m certain. My brother’s been in the hospital several times this year and TMWM was ghost. When Wander called, because I didn’t see the FB message until much later in the day which is why FB is not a reasonable way to notify someone of an emergency, I thought she wanted me to drive her to the hospital. Luckily that wasn’t the reason for her call. She was just informing me, and had taken the stance since he didn’t call her there was no reason for her to show her face. I tend to agree. Of course there is a history here that’s not baked into this blogpost, but it’s already too long. Bottom line, I have daddy issues…not of the screw older men nature but daddy issues all the same. <br /><br />And as much as I wanted to be fazed by him being rushed to the hospital I wasn’t. I felt worse when my best friend told me her grandmother’s husband’s back in the hospital battling cancer again. This probably makes me a bad person. I should care that my dad is in a hospital bed with an injury that kills people. I do care, don’t get me wrong. I’ve said a prayer for him every day since finding out but I don’t feel like I need to sit at his bedside faking tears, ruining mascara pretending we have a relationship. We don’t! And we haven’t for years. But he’s still my dad and has much as I dislike him, I once gave him a birthday card that read you’ve taught me how to love a person I don’t like, there will always be a part of me that smiles for him…albeit a very small part. Hell we share DNA, and that has to count for something, right?<br /><br /><em>The Spaniard almost got karate chopped in the throat for sideways insinuating my wrongness for not visiting TMWM in the hospital. Don’t worry I give out cyber chops too…I kid a little! </em><br /><br />Anywho, say a prayer for The Man Wander Married that he gets better so he can continue to be the a-hole that he is….yeah I know I’m wrong #dontjudgeme!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-55692658911964862062010-11-12T18:15:00.001-05:002010-11-29T18:21:22.735-05:00Random Ishkabibbles: Leaving My Consulting Family<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TPQ0R4R0SkI/AAAAAAAAAqo/TPo4OesSjSg/s1600/consulting%2Bpicture.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 340px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TPQ0R4R0SkI/AAAAAAAAAqo/TPo4OesSjSg/s400/consulting%2Bpicture.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5545114522969459266" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Don't they look like douchebags!!!!</span></div><br />Leaving my current career path as a consultant is bittersweet. How cliché does that sound? But it’s all the way true. Although I detest the politics of consulting, robotic human vampires are not the friendliest folk to work with; I learned a lot in a very short period of time. When I started consulting I thought I was the hashish and pissed excellence! I quickly realized everyone in consulting pisses excellence, in his/her own mind. Arrogance, with a side of Backstabbing Bish is a prereq to surviving or at least be thought of as truly the hashish. While I’m Facebook friends with Arrogance, Backstabbing and I don’t mesh like that. Seriously, the OG in the sky doesn’t need one more thing to smite me for in the hereafter, I’m just saying, He doesn’t!<br /><div><br />And so began my undoing as a consultant. Don’t get it twisted, I consult well. My counselor, Spaz Manager, told me that my future in consulting was bright. I have all the major ingredients the right amount of snark, technical skills and the power of manipulation. A heavy touch of Mani is healthy for any consultant. My problem, I don’t like manipulating people, especially people who genuinely want help out of a sticky eff’d up situation. Consulting is the business of selling ideas that everyday people can come up with if given enough time. <br /><br />Unfortunately most people don’t have enough time to devote 16+ hour days for ten weeks to one issue, insert consulting firm stage left. We come in, typically 25-32 year olds telling C-suite executives (chief executive officer, chief financial officer etc etc.,), 45-55 year olds, how they’ve driven companies to the ground and here are the five things that will make it right. At times this is met with hostility. And I can dig it. If some 21- 23 year old tried to school me I’d probably just laugh and dismiss her/his Souljahboy listening arse with the quicks. In my mind, there ain’t one thing a Katie Perry wanna-be can teach me outside of the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnPJmDc0b_M">dougie</a>…and I already know that dance. But the point, ageism sucks but it’s all the way understandable.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />What I hate, I mean really really hate, the bulldozer consulting leveled on my life. For the past three years I’ve lived, breathed and eaten consulting to the detriment of my personal life. Honestly I can’t remember what I did before I consulted, that’s pretty janky. I asked the Little Brother and he was like, I don’t remember you not being a consultant. You know what that means not only did consulting suck the fun out of Faith it also evaporated my former life stream. I didn’t know one decision could have so much downstream impact…Damn!<br /><br />Despite ruining my social life, and somewhat being to blame for the shambles I find my “relationship” in, there were things about consulting that did it for me. I’m a type A personality if that’s not already apparent. Type A folk make excellent consultants because we are overachieving, workaholic, stress junkies with borderline control issues and an inability to relax. Yeah for the most part that is me. I thrive in high stress situations. I’ll go out on a limb and say that I crave high stress situations because I find that out of those situations I derive the most pleasure. The greatest reward for hard work is success, and success depends on your definition but I get such a rush of adrenaline if I can solve a problem faster and better than anyone else. This and the reward points for airlines and hotels I will miss the most.<br /><br />On the flip side I recognize that I can’t tolerate an environment surrounded by people who are just like me. I can’t stand it. Can you imagine working in a place where everyone is wired exactly the same? There was not one laid back person in the whole bunch. I mean even the actuaries who typically are mild mannered individuals were racing at speeds faster than lightening. <br /><br />Consulting breeds’ burnouts and alcoholics rolled into the cliché of working and playing hard, of this I’m sure. I can’t tell you the number of Senior Managers I’ve seen take down multiple bottles of vino in a single sitting night after night. It kind of comes with the territory. And since drinking ain’t my vice of choice I had very little outlet for all the extra-ness and intensity of consulting. Maybe after a small hiatus I’ll return...<br /><br />Going back to industry appeals to the laid back chick hiding inside, I’d like her to be my co-pilot. Of course the bish at the wheel right now might have some issue with this decision. After the kidney stone incident with Texas I decided that I could no longer keep ignoring how much consulting changed me for the worse. My type A personality was at its highest not to mention I’d been sicker than I’d ever been in my entire life. It was time for a change. And while I truly dislike the idea of not being 150% busy all the time I know I need this break. Don’t get me wrong I’m still very much on target for what I want to do in my career but I’m taking a calculated risk by returning to industry right now. Who knows, maybe I’ll finish my screenplay!<br /><br />The possibilities do seem endless right now…<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span></div>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-226708933898175462010-11-05T06:52:00.002-04:002010-11-23T07:00:47.512-05:00Weekend Update: For Colored Girls - A Review<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TOurRiaiEwI/AAAAAAAAAqg/HQxA3RYWrcU/s1600/for%2Bcolored%2Bgirls.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 221px; height: 257px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TOurRiaiEwI/AAAAAAAAAqg/HQxA3RYWrcU/s400/for%2Bcolored%2Bgirls.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542712084193743618" /></a><br /><br /><br />Over the weekend I went to see <em>For Colored Girls</em>, not a Tyler Perry original, thank God but directed, produced and adapted by him. My first mind told me to avoid the debil that is TP aka Tyler Perry but all my chicitas were going and I didn’t want to spoil the party, especially my semi celebration. Last week I escaped the pits of hell. And when I say pits of hell I mean consulting. Anyone who’s ever been a consultant with one of the top firms will understand that analogy.<br /><br />But I digress, <em>For Colored Girls</em>, was actually not horrible. Considering my distaste for the debil, that is TP, not horrible is a compliment. While TP rakes in tons of money running around as a 6ft gun toting Grandmother, who’s Grannie actually packs heat, I turn my nose up in utter <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=boughie">boughie</a> (second definition) disgust. <em>I owns my boughie and I wears it well, it feels like velvet!</em> His writing ability, quite pitiful and let’s not even talk about his total lack of film making skills. That hasn’t stopped him from sucking up tons of cash and getting who I consider to be A-B list actors to star in his productions. It is baffling but we are/were in a recession. I’m not gonna knock his hustle because he’s doing the damn thing, so much so the mofo lives in a castle in HotLanta. Yeah I said a castle; it’s like Buckingham effn Palace over there. TP has done well for himself proving talent means almost nothing.<br /><br />But seriously the movie was not horrible. And here are the few reasons why it wasn’t horrible. Ntozake Shange is the hashish and potatoes. Please pick up the choreopoem and get ready to be impressed. It’s tough to get through because it’s raw and deep and most folk don’t like that. I lump myself in that category, so don’t take offense. I like my entertainment with heavy doses of hair gel, rachet low class slores (combination of sluts and whores) and orange tans, most days. That is a direct byproduct of the pits of hell I escaped from, there was but so much brain power I had left to digest the real.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Another reason the movie was not horrible, Kimberly Mudda-Effin Elise. That chile can act her hindparts off. Chops, she has it! During one of her monologues (using words penned by Ntozake not Perry thank God) she had me ready to cry…and I don’t cry, at least not in the public. She deserves an Oscar but she probably won’t get one because well like I said it wasn’t horrible and that’s a far cry from a good film. I was equally impressed with Anika Noni Rose and my OG Claire Huxtable slays these young bishes to pieces. I’m way partial to Claire; she’s a shero in my head! I heart these women for their performances. And to be honest, the wackness that is Janet J. pulled out an honorable mention. Janet snatched back to Penny on <em>Good Times</em> and actually was dare I say…believable. I know I shocked myself with that last one.<br /><br /><em>I won’t tell you how Janet J’s performance in Why Did I Get Married Too made Beyonce in anything look like an Academy Award winning actress. And the real question; why I even wasted my hard earned dollars on that rubbish…peer pressure. </em><br /><br />Unfortunately having great actors perform amazing in a badly adapted play is not getting it. I likes me some Ms. Celie, a lot, but Failure her name is Whoopie. I’m quitting her so much right now because I expected and deserved more. Note to the Whoop-ster, keep your day job. Not to hashish all over her parade, she did have one decent scene but I’m not sure if it was decent because she was doing well, or if she was just the better of two bad actresses. I mean Thandie Newton is my girl, y’all saw <em>Crash</em>! She and I, friends in my head! But casting Thandie as a gutter-butt slore was in a word, horrible. Rumor has it that Mariah Carey was supposed to play the role but thank God for <strike>pregnancy</strike> small miracles because it might have been worse. We all know the Glitter mishap, I’m just saying. <br /><br />But alas it was a Tyler Perry production and what is normally wrong with TP went wrong in this movie. Honestly I want him to take a screen writing class for dummies or at the absolute least learn how to make a three dimensional character. In reality people are more than a one trick pony. People, most anyway, are intricately complex which is the reason why I’m not throwing the rubbish I’m calling a screenplay out to folk just yet. If you love an art form, perfect it before letting it lose for mass consumption. Well maybe not perfect it but damn get a good grasp on it. Although I will say this movie is Tyler’s best work to date.<br /><br />Damn it TP in the name of all things Perry-esque, learn the meaning of plot. For all it’s worth, the movie had none. The characters were just there and things were happening to them for no rhyme or reason. Or maybe that is the plot also known as life…I am digressing. By the first 30 minutes I could have told you how the movie was going to end, minus the kids getting thrown from the window by their alcoholic father, sorry I might have just spoiled it for someone. But otherwise I knew how it was going to end within the first half hour or so which makes me want my money back, just a little. <br /><br />Not surprising and regular scheduled programming for Mr. Perry, men ain’t grits n’ hotcakes. Yeah that pretty much sums up the whole male cast minus boo in my head, Hill Harper…he is soooo smart it makes me cry a little on the inside sort of like that Native American who cries when we litter. Am I dating myself right now? Anywho it would stand to reason that if TP considers himself a <strike>closet homosexual</strike> good man than he can’t be the last. Regardless of the examples of ain’t grits n’ hotcakes men I’ve run across in my life I refuse to think that Tyler Perry, Hill Harper and The Little Brother are the only ones left floating around on the third rock from the sun. iRefuse (think I stole that language from Luuvie) to believe that. There’s some diamonds in the rough out there we just need to put in the elbow grease to shine them up. <br /><br />What is equally frustrating maybe even more so than the ain’t grits n’ hotcakes men are the emasculated wimps. For the love of Yahweh! Most of the men I know aren’t missing testicles. Granted I haven’t done manual inspections on all of them but I’m sure the lacking of junk would have come up in random conversation. That aside I don’t think this truly represents the population at large. If anything some men would benefit from two drops of estrogen every once in awhile, I’m just saying guys being hard all the time ain’t always sezy.<br /><br /><em>And on another unrelated but related note, what’s the deal with in the basement abortion...there’s a Planned Parenthood-like shop in almost every urban neighborhood I can think of, I’m just saying. But I hearts Macy Gray like uck me pumps on a first date so I’m not gonna lose sleep over it.</em><br /><br />Besides that abortion plot mishap down janky civil rights legacy lane, the themes of the movie ring true. The struggles of women, not just those of color, were spotlighted and I could appreciate the film for that. Tyler Perry much like Janet J receives an A for effort and an honorable mention for the film in its entirety. I mean not even an amazing writer/director could have pulled off <em>For Colored Girls When the Rainbow is not Enuf</em> without a hitch.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-53950911524681356242010-10-22T12:19:00.005-04:002010-10-22T12:31:39.361-04:00Week in Review: Taking a Calculated Risk and Third Time’s a Charm…I Hope!<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TMG6d_G5KvI/AAAAAAAAAqY/jdIihJPnXxE/s1600/cowgirl.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 145px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 221px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530906841706998514" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TMG6d_G5KvI/AAAAAAAAAqY/jdIihJPnXxE/s400/cowgirl.gif" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><strong><em>Buckle up the ride will be long and bumpy folks, but totally worth it...I hope!</em></strong></span></div><strong><em><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></em></strong><div align="left"><br /><br />For good reason, I’ve been missing in action. OK OK, not for good reason but at this point if you read my blog semi-regularly you know that work begins to consume most of my day and I have little time to write. In any man’s river, I’m going to catch you up on er-thang Faith since the anniversary of my born day.<br /><br />Because the boy drama of my life is more exciting I’ll lead with work drama. Drum roll please, I gots me a new gig! No you didn’t read that wrong. No more galloping around the free and not so free world for me. I’ll be parked in an office, OK more like a dressed-up cubicle, in the largest building in downtown Philadelphia. Alls yeah friends, I’ll be working in risk management in the hopes of becoming one of the youngest regional risk managers for an entertainment powerhouse. That might include a change of residency to LA… flashy lights!<br /><br />Hold the phone! Can you imagine me in LA? What What! Sun kissed tresses and an all year tan, who gone check me boo (in my Nene Leakes voice)? I know I went down a fantasy spiral for a minute but here’s another, moving west appeals to me more than finding <a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kw61kpCJVJ1qaubsao1_500.jpg">Lance Gross </a>butt butterball nekkid ready to dance in my bedroom. That’s major!<br /><br />Vulgarity aside, I’ve always dreamed of a bi-coastal life. Not to mention, Model Friend already lives in the Hills. When opportunity knocks, opening the door is all I can do. On a practical note, I get my old life back. Yup, that means making plans with friends and actually attending.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><em>Sidenote, I’m slightly nervous about the new position you know the whole am I making the right decision thing. If I can conquer this professional hurdle the race is already won. Taking on an uncomfortable experience only helps you grow as a person, in my opinion. I know I’m ready…I hope!</em><br /><br />In boy news, Jon B. exited stage left with a big ole bang! During work hours he pulled a Brett Favre forcing me to change the iPhone settings, no more preview text messages. I was in the middle of a team room pounding the pavement when a ginormous schlong (no exaggeration) showed up. <em>Sidenote: The man’s HUNG!</em> I’m not a prude, however some things are just inappropriate. You don’t see me sending the vajajay via text and I would expect that an adult man would know that his peen is not welcome phone art, especially during work hours. And to add more grease to the pan, my phone sat between me and Juvenile Junior Staff Member. I pray he didn’t see the man meat. If he did, he didn’t mention it to me but of course that’s not typical office conversation.<br /><br /><em>Juvenile Junior Staff Member probably thinks I’m a freak #shamehernameisfaith!</em><br /><br />Later that night I spoke very directly to Jon B. I asked him point-blank, are you trying to be my fcuk-friend? There was a long pause. Lately I’ve done away with tact! Since he’s sending his dcik through text, tact ain’t his strong suit either. His response, he didn’t think I was that type of girl but if I’m down, he’s down. Otherwise he’s really interested in “catching up.”<br /><br />Hmmmm….again, catching up is reserved for old friends, not sure we qualify! I closed the door but left the window open, besides this peen picture misstep Jon B. ain’t too shabby. We did chat a scosh after the awkwardness of the fcuk-friend wore off. Turns out JB’s back in school and starting a non-profit. <em>Sidenote, ladies if you’re in the market for a Jon B look a-like I can hook you up with a number. Added bonus being the peen! </em>In any man’s river we haven’t spoken in a couple of weeks so I guess he smelled what I was cooking. His number’s saved in my phone though in case I need to dust him off and put him back on stage.<br /><br />Mailroom Boy’s sporadic texting is slightly annoying. He keeps trying to re-insert himself into my life-space as if we shared something magical. Of course I can’t blame him, I <em><b>am</em></b> fantabulous. Sorry, I detoured down vain Faith lane, excuse my obnoxiousness. But seriously I think being friends with MB is counterproductive. We do have fun when we’re together but his brand of tea suits me not.<br /><br />I’m just going to come out and say it, me and the Spaniard are together again. Somewhere inside of me lives a masochist! That might have gone too far but you know what I’m saying. I pray the third time’s a charm. Before you run off thinking I caved because I’m weak, I’m not and the thought has already crossed my mind. We hashed our relationship almost to death over the past few weeks. It shows effort on his part because men hate talking about anything, right? I feel we’re in a good place…most days.<br /><br />The Spaniard has, for lack of a better term, respect issues which manifest in a lack of communication skills. Before going apeshit he’s not physically or verbally abusive, that hashish doesn’t fly in Faith-zone. In my mind, it’s partially religi-cultural. He’s an Arab Muslim, not typically known for their respect of womenfolk. I’m not knocking his religion or his place of origin. However, I do understand breaking a horse requires patience. Not to mention lifetime lessons aren’t unlearned in a day. I can’t expect him to change who he is at his core but I do expect behavior modifications. I told him this directly. Remember not about tact these days!<br /><br />Before you menfolk get all snippy with me and say you shouldn’t be with someone if you want to change him, hold the phone! Change may not be the appropriate word but it’s what I used, so lump it. And for hashishes and giggles I’ll give you a personal example. Old Faith was a snarky bish. I’m comfortable admitting that because she is Faith no more. Years of childhood iskabibbles coupled with an undeniable mountain of arrogance created a monster. It hit me one day that if I ever wanted to form lasting connections with people I’d have to change my ways. Not that I needed to change who I was at my core (I’m good peoples) however, my behavior needed a make-over. And now, I’m still sarcastic but I wouldn’t call myself a bish. I understand the importance of treating others with the same respect I expect in return. To get it you gotta give it, works the same way for love, Booyah!<br /><br />Anywho, I told The Spaniard his leash is short. I’m not walking him and shoveling hashish this time around. Either he wants to be with me, in an adult relationship, or he doesn’t. If he does, act right! And the same rules apply for me.<br /><br />Ruining a relationship ain’t a one man/woman job, so I’ll take my share of the blame. My issue, I’m a non-confrontational passive-aggressive bottler, look who read a psyche book this weekend! It’s not in my nature to tell someone he hurt my feelings, it seems so wimpy. I’d rather just let the uncomfortableness (not a word) of the moment pass and dictate the resolution.<br /><br />Example, The Spaniard makes tentative plans with me but never solidifies. Day of said tentative plans I’m stuck in limbo, sometimes he shows and other times he does not. In his mind the plans aren’t concrete so there’s no reason to say boo to me if he doesn’t intend to go through with said plans. In my mind this is not only rude it’s all the way DIRESPECTFUL, caps oh so necessary! Instead of piping up and delivering major o_O (stank eye) coupled with sistah girl tude, I prefer to make other arrangements. Problem averted, partially. Back up plans solve my time issues but don’t cure the underlying disease, his total lack of respect for my time and his commitment to me. It also causes issues if he’s only running late for said tentative plans and he shows up to empty house, restaurant, park…you smell what I’m cooking. In those situations, which happen more often than you may think, I have to deal with his tude. Granted his tude and my tude are way different…I don’t like being ignored. He is the king of ig and it literally drives me to levels of anger I didn’t even know existed.<br /><br /><em>Seeing red can’t be healthy. Sheesh for a bottler my emotions run high, right? I need to chase my chill pill with a dash of Vodka!</em><br /><br /><br />End of the story, we’re both working on making it right. Did I add we’re both stubborn as hell and neither likes admitting wrong?<br /><br />In any man’s river, The Spaniard asked me to move in with him…<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" /></a></span></div>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-3699706393640310062010-09-26T08:39:00.003-04:002010-10-22T12:32:48.696-04:00A Few Weeks in Review: Woodwork Crawlers feeling out the Season of Cuddling<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TKcoWB_eKeI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/h2py24ZoAfw/s1600/cuddle+buddy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TKcoWB_eKeI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/h2py24ZoAfw/s320/cuddle+buddy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523427826950089186" /></a><br />Chello bloggers and blog-ettes I’m back with a little ditty I like to call the Week in Review. <br /><br />When last we spoke I was battling Hurricane Spaniard. A surly storm that arrived on my shores a few months shy of two years ago. Sad as I am to say it burdens me still. As soon as I think I’ve out maneuvered the storm it loops the corner and hails all over my parade. In this case the Summer O’ Men…causing it to end just as abruptly as it started.<br /><br />I agreed to have lunch with the Spaniard. After Wander made the waterworks the other week I felt I owed him and largely myself to put whatever we have to bed. Well much like fighting a pre-pubescent boy to shower and a toddler to sleep resolving our hashish wasn’t getting done over one lunch. We met at this quaint French spot that sells the most amazing crepes on 6th and Bainbridge. I can’t remember the name but it matters not.<br /><br />Over a few savory and sweet crepes we discussed the relationship. A lot of our problems revolve around communication. In addition to him thinking I know exactly what’s going on in his head he has an issue with apologizing. Stubborn much! And granted I’m probably the most arrogant, unapologetically sarcastic person one will ever meet but for folks close to my heart I push those character flaws to the side, most of the time. I recounted the late for the train station incident where I got my ass chewed out by a banshee aka Spaz Manager. And still he didn’t offer an apology. Just coughed up an excuse, he confused the times. If assault weren’t against the law I would have hit him with my glass of water. He’s an asshole, sometimes! We parted ways that day with a hug and peck on the cheek. <br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Side note: When this man touches me I feel electricity run through my core…this cannot be a good thing. <br /><br />Since we weren’t together I didn’t expect a gift for my birthday. Actually we’ve been conveniently unattached when my birthday rolls around. In any event I spent the early part of the day with Wander, Pudding Pop and Granny SJ. In the evening Wander took me shopping and I headed home relatively early, 10ish. Around 12 I get a text message from The Spaniard asking me to come downstairs. My first mind said to go downstairs and see what he wants but my second mind said total bad idea. Of course my first mind won this battle and I took the trip down the interior stairs of my apartment and was greeted by 5 or more bouquets of flowers, mostly lilies. Sometimes he’s not an asshole!<br /><br />I was proud of myself that night because despite raging hormones amongst other things I kept my resolve and sent him on his way with nothing more than a Spank You kindly and a peck on the cheek….ok the lips but you get the point. I left most of the flowers on the doorstep. What was I going to do with 5 bouquets of flowers in my apartment? <br /><br />After sharing the birthday flowers story with some of my close friends they were all somewhat surprised I didn’t give in. And The Best Friend, always a Spaniard supported was her usual self and told me I was dumb for not blurring the boundaries and taking a short ride on the ho train. Of course sex does not love make, so sometimes her advice is to be taken with a grain of salt.<br /><br />But I digress. <br /><br />Pretty Skin faded to the land of obscurity, also known as Never-Never land. By no fault of his own, well maybe a little, but with work and my see-saw appetite for The Spaniard I didn’t have the stomach to digest anymore of PS’ references to me as a man or his otherwise lack of genuine communication skills. I’m sorry I just can’t. Believe me there was no judgment here, I thought and still think some chiquitta will be hella happy to find and refine Pretty Skin. He’s a diamond in need of a little elbow grease.<br /><br />PS did surface briefly this weekend. I quipped that I hadn’t been discarded to the do not call list. And his response was no but if you think it didn’t contain a man reference you’d be wrong. Ugh! Anywho I asked out of pure curiosity what he was up to this weekend. He responded that he had his daughter Saturday but would be free later in the evening. Clearly my conversation politeness was misconstrued. I told him that I had belated birthday plans with my cousin but I hope he enjoyed his weekend.<br /><br /><em>Was that rude of me?</em><br /><br />Mailroom Boy to my utter surprise crawled from under his you got to be kidding me rock with a happy birthday salute. And believe it or not he was only about two days late despite having a phone reminder. His words not mine. Being late to everything but work is part of his je ne sais quoi…not. I was touched, don’t remember his birthday but that’s beside the point. Once I check out I check out, not that we had anything serious…<a href="http://chaoticallycalm.blogspot.com/2009/08/weekend-update-booking-travel-stupid.html">please check the $14 incident that broke the camel’s back.</a> <br /><br />Since that time he’s been texting me on the regular. He even sideways mentioned that his daughter asked about me and she never asks about his friends. Hmm, I’m still not interested but am rather impressed that he’s getting his hashish together. Last we spoke Mailroom Boy was living in his aunt’s house, carless and working in the mailroom because it was easy. Now he’s taking classes to get his degree, driving his own car and living by himself. Not too shabby if I do say so myself. <br /><br />Even Jon B. jumped back on stage for a small cameo in this show I call my life. I cancelled his performance before it could even start though. After the traditional how have you been what have you been up to chatter he asked if I ‘d like to come by on Sunday to “catch up.” Is that what the kool kids call it these days? Considering we’ve only known each other for roughly three months time and about a month of it we had no real communication I’m not sure we have any catching up to do. I mean in my book catching up is reserved for friends you’ve known for years but speak to infrequently because of schedules or proximity of course I could be wrong. Clearly his Kangol is too tight. I told him it was doubtful I’d be stopping by to “catch up.” <br /><br />I’m seriously considering <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jz6nSwRQ4h8">chucking up the deuces.</a> I think Chris Breezy may have been onto something…all the bullshits for the birds…you judge it!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-17930701468749394672010-09-18T08:30:00.003-04:002010-10-02T08:39:20.627-04:00Stream of Consciousness: Ramblings on My Birthday!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TKcmNv3Cg6I/AAAAAAAAAqI/IKW4xpeclCw/s1600/happy+birthday.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TKcmNv3Cg6I/AAAAAAAAAqI/IKW4xpeclCw/s320/happy+birthday.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523425485620675490" /></a><br />It’s funny I’ve been going through one of the rockiest emotional moments I can remember. I would say even rockier than when I finally lost the Future Ex Husband. And even though I’ve never told the story about the Future Ex Husband and it is a story I didn’t feel as much a failure as I’ve felt lately. With him I just felt numb. A long time passed before I rubbed the numbness out of my veins. It never occurred to me that we wouldn’t be married living as the modern day Huxtables even though our relationship was a seesaw of together and apart. <br /><br />Failure is my greatest fear. <em>Don’t try to break into any of my accounts because you now know one of my security question answers.</em> I fight against failure every day. This is part of the reason I did so well in school and ultimately do well professionally. I refuse to do anything but well, I repeat refuse. This is not in a childish get mine before someone can get theirs type of thing I just put in 200% at all times. It has paid off very well for me. I have a work ethic that most don’t, in particular those of my generation, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. I delay personal gratification at the expense of excelling professionally.<br /><br />And I do this intentionally. I deal well in a world where I can be emotion-less. Work requires attention but it doesn’t require vulnerability. It doesn’t have to see me stripped bare to love and ultimately reward me. With the Future Ex Husband I was totally exposed and open and vulnerable but in the end it didn’t work. And when it was over I played the What If game for years about what should have could have been. Eventually I accepted that in life you will have growing moments and losing the Ex was one of mine. <br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Losing the Future Ex Husband taught me a correct yet emotionally isolating lesson about love, in order to avoid pain you can’t get in too deep. And this lesson grew and took hold as the result of the groundwork paved by a troubled childhood that witnessed dysfunctional love. Every guy after the Ex, I held at a distance. It wasn’t necessary to divulge all things about me because I wasn’t going to be around long enough for it to matter. Whenever I bored or at the first sign of trouble I ended things…sometimes abruptly others with slow fades but never ever on someone else’s terms. I shielded my heart well and escaped those men painlessly and unscathed. Always looking back on my time with them as yet another life experience but never a true relationship. I’d tried a relationship and it didn’t work, mistakes are to be learned from and not repeated. <br /><br />Not recently! The Spaniard caught me in the middle of a perfect storm. I’d just gotten settled into the consultant game. And by settled I mean figured out the circus and began falling into the petty politics. My family was in the midst of crisis...not uncommon but I was truly emotionally raw from losing my Pop-Pop. And to add insult to injury <a href="http://chaoticallycalm.blogspot.com/2009/03/21-jump-streets-demise.html">21 Jump Street shattered a 7-year friendship and any hopes of a courtship with the live in girlfriend bomb.</a> In the midst of that train wreck unassuming genuinely nice guy walks in and provides a much-needed outlet. <br /><br />He wasn’t trying to solve any of my ish because that’s what I’m good at, solving ish. He was just there, if I needed to laugh or shout or <strike>naked mambo</strike> talk or whatever with no agenda. He didn’t want anything from me and that was a relief. It seems that everyone in my life wants something from me and it was nice for once that someone didn’t need my advice, time, money, car, opinion, guidance and the list goes on. I found comfort there. <br /><br />And even though I outwardly fought against the idea of coupling up with him I took a tiny leap of faith outside of my comfort zone into a relationship with the Spaniard. It felt right at the time. But when it ended, it ended badly. I felt deceived. I felt abused and I felt like the person who originally didn’t want anything from me was a fraud. The one person who was supposed to above all others not want to hurt me stabbed me with a rusty steak knife and left me to bleed out in the streets. And as much as I wanted to gouge out his eyes for being a liar and a whole lot of other things I was more enraged with myself. Me, the person who writes people’s stories accurately within an hour of meeting him couldn’t see through The Spaniard’s veneer. Failure her name is Faith.<br /><br />Or at least that’s how I felt. I masked that feeling most of the summer with the madness of dating random boys. It was fun but came tumbling to a halt with one text message. A message that unearthed those buried feelings of self-rage slapping them to the surface and forcing me to deal. My preference isn’t to deal. As I mentioned emotion-less environments suit me well.<br /><br />They say the ones who hurt us the most are the ones closest to us…do you believe that?<br /><br />But anyway it’s my birthday and I’m going to table this rambling for now…<br /><br />Side note: Are you an emotion bottler or a wearer of your feelings on your sleeve?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-72255810954282562472010-09-06T10:39:00.001-04:002010-09-11T10:42:27.855-04:00This Week’s Joy: Moms Are Something Special<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TIuU9CIYFBI/AAAAAAAAAqA/ujZep_ssxHA/s1600/i+love+my+mom.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TIuU9CIYFBI/AAAAAAAAAqA/ujZep_ssxHA/s320/i+love+my+mom.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515665944910238738" /></a><br /><br />After Wander and The Little Brother left church I was given the privilege of driving both them and myself to Uncle Mid Life Crisis’ barbeque. I didn’t mind. The more time I spent away from my phone the more time I didn’t have to think about how I feel. If you haven’t pieced the puzzle together me and feelings are on opposite ends of the picture frame. Besides feelings are for the winter, technically I can avoid this for a few more weeks, can’t I?<br /><br />As I sat in the car with Wander contemplating how one lives with a bruised ego and a broken heart she offered this morsel, “You don’t have to go through this alone. I know you love him. Men are assholes but I have a feeling you will work this out with my future son-in-law. If you need to talk I’m here. I don’t always want to hear about the good things”<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Speechless! Does she have some sort of telepathy? It must be some innate mother gene that allows her to sense my discomfort. I couldn’t even verbalize how I felt to her. I hate crying but I couldn’t hold it anymore. Crying ain’t sezy. Luckily it wasn’t one of those snot nose cries instead just silent tears ruining my mascara. Afterwards I felt a little bit better but I didn’t get any answers besides my mom’s inside my heart and I likes it.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-81435802057289517132010-09-05T10:26:00.006-04:002010-09-11T10:43:06.329-04:00Week In Review: Staffing Snafus, Unentertaining Convos with Pretty Skin, End of Summer BBQs, and Internal Conflicts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TIuSBA5THMI/AAAAAAAAAp4/nS-9oLojTEs/s1600/WomanCrying.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TIuSBA5THMI/AAAAAAAAAp4/nS-9oLojTEs/s320/WomanCrying.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515662714763156674" /></a><br /><br />Most days consulting frustrates the hashish out of me. Moreover when Senior Managers escape into the land of make believe expecting 20 weeks worth of work in 15 weeks I go apeshit (inside – hey momma needs her job and I just got me a raise). It’s even more frustrating when the managers sell this work and get clients to believe it’s humanly possible. Granted most clients think consultants are robots in human packaging but I’m here to say this is not the case, at least not for me.<br /><br />In any event this Technology Senior Manager, The Hobbit, sold a piece of work that required at least 14 weeks of full time consulting for 4 resources. And when I say full time consulting I mean 60-hour weeks, as this is the typical schedule. Instead The Hobbit sold the project for 10 weeks with 3 full time resources. Clearly he missed a very important memo about true possibilities. <br /><br />In addition to under staffing the project, the Hobbit also pulled in the absolute complete a$ backward resource to manage the project a butt spanking new manager to the firm, Stutter Step. With only 4-5 weeks of company experience under Stutter’s belt and no actual project experience, he was eaten alive by the client by the middle of the first week. The slaying performed by the client project manager, Russian Sorcerer, was of epic nature. Thank God, and I know this is going to sound shady as hashish, I’d already fully aligned myself in her graces because two heads might have gotten chopped. Hey consulting is 25% politics and 75% work…I’m just being honest.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><em>In my defense as well as the team, we tried to cover Stutter’s mistakes and limit his interaction with Russian Sorcerer as much as possible. To his detriment he kept interjecting with ridonkulous questions (in consulting there is such a thing as a dumb inquiry). Additionally he kept starting, ending and throwing in the middle of every sentence the phrase you know or you know what I’m saying. Of course they don’t know what you’re saying because you haven’t actually said anything. Communication skills of all kinds, written and verbal, are absolute requirements to last in the consulting business</em><br /><br />Attempting to mask Stutter’s incompetence the Hobbit brought in a second manager but this only helped to illuminate his lagging skills. In the end the client formally requested Stutter’s removal from the project. Bummer for him, it will not reflect well within the firm that he was removed from his first project in particular because it wasn’t just a personality conflict but an actual lack of appropriate talent. <br /><br />On the way home from the client site I decided to return PS’ calls from earlier in the week. As it turns out Pretty Skin would be out of town for the holiday. I learned this after listening to him talk about nothing for damn near an hour on my drive back from Jersey, did I mention the client site is in Warren County NJ, which makes for a 2hr drive home. PS did mention he’d like to take a trip with me to Maine. I’d told him that Maine is nice if you like lobster and lighthouses and bed n breakfast-llike cities and stuff like that to which he replied that none of those things really interested him. Because I enjoy being stabbed in the eye with glass I asked why. To which he responded, “Man cause!” I didn’t have the energy to remind him that I’ve had no sex change in the past week and would appreciate not being called a man…it’s probably just his thing but I don’t like it, sorry!<br /><br /><em>Y’all already know I’m siddity, it’s a gift!</em><br /><br />After a politically charged and extremely tense workweek coupled with mindless chitter chatter (I can’t really call it conversation) from PS I was more than ready to enjoy the summer’s last hoorah, barbecues. Fellow Traveler, Nurse Friend and Uncle Mid Life Crisis all tossed invites my way. Unfortunately my hair affair shattered any attempts of making Fellow Traveler’s but Nurse Friend and Uncle Mid Life’s were both still on the table and I felt like indulging.<br /><br />Both provided a necessary distraction. I laughed with Nurse Friend’s family as if they were my own and I was given an honorary pass. I laughed with my family like old times with little drama. I mean it wouldn’t be a family gathering without a little ball busting and ribbing. And yes I needed those laughs to mask all the other emotional hashish (technical term) I was and am still working through.<br /><br />If you haven’t guessed this has everything to do with the Spaniard. It’s funny I’m sensing a theme. I can’t shake him. Either I’m a lunatic or madly obsessively in love with this man, at this point I’m throwing money on both just to cover all bases.<br /><br />Right before my pick up from the Best Friend to head to Nurse Friend’s barbecue I get a call from the Spaniard. In my defense all his prior calls and text messages since our last “discussion” I left unanswered. Everyone has her breaking point. For the life of me I don’t know why I decided to on the second ring just pick up the phone...here I go again with the glass shards in my eyes.<br /><br />Me: What do you want?</span><div><span class="fullpost"><br />The Spaniard: You.</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />Me: Please don’t be funny I don’t feel like this today.</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />The Spaniard: How are you doing?</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />Me: How should I be doing? You’ve become a stalker and won’t take leave me the hell alone as an answer. I hate my job most days and my bra is a little tight. Otherwise I’m comfy cozy, how about you?</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />The Spaniard: Why do you do that?</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />Me: Do what?</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />The Spaniard: You know what I’m talking about. </span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />Me: Well would you prefer I cry...it’s not really my slice of cake but I can if it’s gonna make you feel better. I don’t have time for this. I don’t want…</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />The Spaniard: It’s not always about what you want. You do realize that you weren’t in this alone. How I feel counts for something. Faith, I love you. You can’t change that. I want you back.</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />Me: (His Name) I’m not dealing with this right now. I can’t deal with this right now. I won’t deal with this right now. The Best Friend’s here I’m on my way to Nurse Friend’s family barbecue.</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />The Spaniard: Promise to call me back.</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />Me: No</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />The Spaniard: Call me back.</span></div><div><span class="fullpost"><br />Me: Fine…whatever…I’ll call you back.<br /><br />This smells like déjà vu. Wasn’t I here around this time last year having the same conversation? Oh wait the last time I was in Vancouver. So I already know how this story ends don’t I. With me looking like an a$$ for the second, no wait third time crying over someone who probably doesn’t deserve my tears.<br /><br />Logic suggests that I run for the hills but you can’t control who you love….who said that to me…<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span></div>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-63510532510926576442010-08-27T17:53:00.003-04:002010-09-03T18:06:23.562-04:00This Week's Joy: My Blogging Clique<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TIFu8Khk_BI/AAAAAAAAApw/gB3EHfAH64Q/s1600/blogging.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TIFu8Khk_BI/AAAAAAAAApw/gB3EHfAH64Q/s320/blogging.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512809398774594578" /></a><i><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I Love Blogging!!!!!!</span></b></i></span></div></i><br /><br /><div>Yesterday I woke up feeling blah. It happens from time to time. I’m still working my way through emotional ish about work, the Spaniard and my family. Yesterday the weight of the world sat on my shoulders or at least that’s how it felt and instead of my normal routine after waking I picked up my laptop and began perusing some of my usual blog suspects.<br /><br />Scanning my blog roll I noticed that Nydgo and Lotus B had new posts. In my gloom I let my fingers take me into someone else’s reality to escape mine for a second. This is one of the things I love about reading blogs. Blogs allow me to live for a brief time in someone else’s skin. In that skin I experience new things as well as confirm some of the ish in my own life. That skin validates some of my life experience and from time to time provides new perspective on similar situations.<br /><br /><em>Women are deep puddles…I am not adrift alone…</em> those gems dropped from Nydgo made me think about how supportive my best friend has been of late. She’s listened as my heart contradicts my mind about boys and family with no judgment and her most clever jokes to date. It’s keeping me grounded.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br /><em> It’s just a simple twist of fate that we are who we are and that we have what we have…</em> indeed! Lotus B preached to me through wordpress. And it’s so effing true. The biggest difference between me and that guy last night who asked for a dollar isn’t my fantabulous education or my inclination at stringing some words together or my ability to razzle dazzle a group of people during presentations, vain much. Dollar Dude and I are the same with different circumstance! What I walked away with, smile for the small things that are going right in your life and try not to dwell on the negative.<br /><br />So this week’s joy: My Blogging Clique (in my head) in no specific order:<br /><ul><li><a href="http://www.cardiogirl.net/">Cardio Gir</a>l</li><li><a href="http://pitchinpennies.blogspot.com/">Nydgo</a></li><li><a href="http://latonyarichardson.blogspot.com/">La’Tonya</a></li><li><a href="http://btieb.blogspot.com/">Ice</a></li><li><a href="http://blambloozers.wordpress.com/">Lotus B</a></li><li><a href="http://dcdatingadventures.blogspot.com/">DC Diva</a></li><li><a href="http://sbminnova.blogspot.com/">Shawn (not blogging anymore but still a hella cool dude based on his blog)</a></li><li><a href="http://www.whatdcpeoplehate.com/">True</a></li><li><a href="http://nowaintthatabitch.blogspot.com/">DaBossBitch</a></li><li><a href="http://www.awesomelyluvvie.com/">Luvvie</a></li><li><a href="http://www.imperfectenjoyment.com/blog">Baby D</a></li><li><a href="http://theguysperspective.com/">The Guys</a></li></ul><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span></div>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-56068632927111895172010-08-23T10:28:00.002-04:002010-08-28T10:36:12.103-04:00Week in Review: Clearing the Roster, Lingering Doubts, Block Parties in North Philthy and Tattoos at Midnight<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/THkdd1wHiKI/AAAAAAAAApg/pcYJ3ELYBvg/s1600/hummingbird.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/THkdd1wHiKI/AAAAAAAAApg/pcYJ3ELYBvg/s320/hummingbird.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510468017546823842" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">My new inspiration!!</div></span><br /><div>After my last week of emotional turmoil I was ready to wipe the slate clean. And by clean I mean get rid of excess baggage weighing me down…in other words cut some of the strings on these going no where courtships. <br /><br />Rounding up the usual suspects, Zack Morris, Trini Man, Jamerican, Jon B and Mr. Late Nite…deleted. This leaves room for a new line up for fall or to decide on my actual feelings for Pretty Skin. Are there feelings there...I’m not sure there are? At the end of the day he’s a nice guy but as we know nice guys finish last. And not for nothing being a nice guy doesn’t automatically enable you to set up residence on the island.<br /><br /><em>Nice guy = boring guy, the jury’s still out on this one????</em><br /><br />Of late, I’ve been beating myself up about Pretty Skin. Despite his purple elephant he is what I say I’m looking for…mostly. Considering his elephant, the fact that he has a child is a molehill. And y’all know how I feel about men with children. His lack of a steady tax-paying job, while still wearing fly gear is a bit questionable; I will reserve my accusations for a later date, I saw rubber banded money stacks and had a flashback of younger dumber Faith. I live under the philosophy don’t ask questions whose answers you aren’t prepared for. In this case, if PS responded that he fell back on his ways of old…I’m not prepared to have that type of thing in my life. Been down that road before and don’t want to go back!<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Outside of Pretty Skin’s annoying reference to me by male descriptors as in man (I think this is his favorite word) he hasn’t done anything that would suggest booting him off the island. Of course as the Best Friend has told me time and time again, you can’t create feelings where feelings don’t exist. Kissing this man is no more stimulating than writing a check…and mama hates paying bills. There’s no spark. Am I overlooking his sezy? Maybe I need to dig beneath the surface and underneath I’ll find a guy who likes to travel (outside of the neighborhood), enjoys art and all types of music, dabbles in philosophy, not afraid to voice his political opinion and enjoys a scary movie every once and again. That last part is ginormously important. The last two guys I took seriously refused to watch scary movies, punks!<br /><br /><em>Maybe it’s too soon for me to move on. Maybe I need to fester in the unresolved feelings that I have for the Spaniard. </em><br /><br />Anywho, earlier in the month, Pretty Skin invited the chicas and I to his block party. For those out of the know Philadelphia in the summer is block party central. On any given weekend in the city there are probably at least 10-12 city approved and 20-25 unsanctioned block parties happening simultaneously. I was less than enthused but I’d agreed to swing by, a woman of my word. I drug Nurse Friend with me to “enjoy” the festivities.<br /><br />It was decent for what it was. I expected to see a whole lot of tomf*ckery and hosh*t but the residents kept it to a minimum. Pretty Skin intro-ed me to some members of the family, cool. I met more of PS’ friends (one of which took a strong liking to Nurse Friend, she wasn’t feeling him but the other one was right up her alley…gotta figure out his marital situation) and saw a whole slew of chicks giving mad stank eye (o_0). I had to laugh at this. Chicas chicas chicas it really isn’t that serious if you want Pretty Skin he is yours for the taking, I lay no claim. While he is physically a sight to see I’m rarely swayed, talking potential boo, by a pretty face. I like to know there’s something under the hood worth inspecting.<br /><br /><em>Side note PS never introduced me to his daughter, I respect him for that even though she was there. No need for introductions when neither of us knows where this is going. And I sensed hella tense vibes when a certain chick of video hoe caliber strolled her way up to his family’s table. Sometimes you can just smell that two people have done the naked mambo, giving out awkward body no touch hugs, you feel me?</em><br /><br />The best part of the day was when Pretty Skin’s auntie (I say auntie because she’s from the south) jumped up and started dancing in the middle of the street breaking nothing down but the air. In her mind, she was getting it but what stopped the record for me, Auntie flashing vajayjay…me no likey the vajayjay. By the time everyone started doing line dances a la electric slide I was at my limit. <br /><br /><em>My friends forewarned the Electric Slide and any of his bastard children are off limits at any function I hold.</em><br /><br />Pretty Skin and I parted ways with a single kiss and a hug. Did I ever tell y’all that hugs make me uncomfortable? I always feel presume from the hugger to put some emotion into it and if I’m not digging you my body betrays the lies my face and tongue sometimes tell. <br /><br />Again no true sparks…I want to fade to black no one else exists and I hear music playing when I kiss him…but I can’t make feeling exist where there are none. With the Future Ex Husband I used to hear <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4powX4uETms">this</a> and with the Spaniard I heard <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8vGGWn2AmE">this</a>…everyone inspires his own song…I want that feeling back!<br /><br /><em>This could be a sign or I could be over analyzing, it’s one or the other!</em><br /><br />In random news, I ended the night in pain…getting inked. On the inside of my left wrist sits the cutest little super detailed humming bird. How do I plan to explain this to CEO’s of fortune 500 companies…I don’t. My answer to them is simple and all the way ghettofab…stay in ya lane homie and watch ya neck also known as keep your mouth shut and mind your business.<br /><br />Humming birds stand for peace, love and happiness. I need a large helping of all three. Tattoos are cathartic. When my Pop-Pop passed instead of dealing, I got inked and let the physical pain mask the emotional. Physical pain is easy (for me at least) it stings for a minute, maybe even an hour…emotional pain can last a lifetime. You judge it!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span></div>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-72365243184116301682010-08-16T13:35:00.001-04:002010-08-23T13:46:22.128-04:00Week In Review-In: Sometimes I Make Bad Decisions…<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/THKxdJeprhI/AAAAAAAAApY/pphhJ3voIoo/s1600/emotional+roller+coaster.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 232px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/THKxdJeprhI/AAAAAAAAApY/pphhJ3voIoo/s320/emotional+roller+coaster.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508660408546340370" /></a><br /><br />On Tuesday instead of working in the office I opted to work from home because it gave me the opportunity to wear my pajamas all day long. It was great! That is one of the benefits of consulting. My office exists wherever I have Internet access. If ever I find a new position this will be one of the few things I miss about consulting.<br /><br />If you recall I agreed to “chill” with Jon B on Tuesday evening. In the back of my mind I considered, strongly, cancelling but sometimes curiosity gets the best of me. As you know curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought her back.<br /><br />I knew what this chilling would entail, hosh*t. Not that I’m above hosh*t because I’m not sometimes but I am somewhat feeling Pretty Skin and Jon B has done the major slide from grace. But who said liking someone was a prerequisite…<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Remember that scrumptilicious text pic that made me even consider hosh*t with Jon B, yeah total angle shot but workable. Granted I didn’t really hold up my part of the bargain either, my enthusiasm level was on a 2 out of 10. We ended early and as I pulled away from his cul-de-sac block I waved goodbye and good riddance to Jon B. The feeling was way mutual. Our parting hug spoke for itself. It was one of those trying not to touch you even though I’m touching you kind of things, way awkward. Everyone doesn’t fit with everyone you judge it!<br /><br />In even more depressing news, the Spaniard crawled from underneath his asshole rock. This is surprising and not surprising simultaneously. His message was true to his form.<br /><br /><em>Not sure if you tried to reach me or not but I got a new number since I came back home. I just wanted to say hi, see how you’re doing and let you know that I miss you.</em><br /><br />Typical!<br /><br />Let me dissect his message for the sake of running my head into a wall.<br /><br /><em>Not sure if you tried to reach me or not but I got a new number since I came back home…</em> which actually means he knows I didn’t try to get in touch with him but he had to find a “logical” reason to get in touch with me. You know just in case I needed him for something I’d have to know he had a new number since returning from “our” vacation that he went on alone.<br /><br /><em>…I just wanted to say hi, see how you’re doing…</em>, yeah sure! What he really wants to know is if I still have enough feelings for him to take a walk on the ho side of life. I don’t!<br /><br /><em>…and let you know I miss you.</em> LOL. Of course! This is the panty dropping back up! He wants me to believe while he was gallivanting around Spain playing friendly with old chums and family he actually thought about me. Hmmm, I don’t buy it for one second. <br /><br />I didn’t respond the first day. I couldn’t! Fits of uncontrollable anger welled up in me every time I thought about the text. The Best Friend said I should take the ho stroll, at least I’d be in better spirits…she thinks too physically. Sometimes a roll in the hay is more than a roll in the hay. Nurse Friend said ignore, ignore ignore. My decision was somewhere in the middle.<br /><br /><em>It’s funny how things change. You know the last time I saw you in person you were talking about marrying me. I’ve been really happy the past few months without you. I’d like to continue that level of happiness. I’m gonna ask you a favor, if there was ever a part of you that cared about me, please don’t call or text me again. I wish you the best.</em><br /><br />After sending that text message and deleting traces of his new number from my phone, it felt final.<br /><br />It was not.<br /><br />He called…of course! I had the will power to ignore the first. He called again. My will power waned by that point. He asked something in Spanish. He does this from time to time; I used to think it was cute. When we were out, surrounded by groups of people he would speak to me in Spanish and even though I know tons of people speak Spanish it felt like he was speaking just for my benefit.<br /><br /><em>¿Por qué no me amas?</em><br /><br />For those out of the Spanish loop, that means, why don’t you love me…I hate him for this. Cleary he doesn’t recall our last conversations/arguments before his departure to Spain. How I can’t count on him. How he doesn’t respect my feelings. How he doesn’t listen to my wants or desires…bottom-line how he’s a selfish a$$hole. <br /><br />His selective memory fuels my anger. The argument that ensued was of an epic nature but I won’t go into the details for my own sanity just know by the end he agreed reluctantly to let me have my peace. <br /><br />Shortly afterwards Jon B sent me a message via yahoo messenger. I was curt. Sometimes the messenger gets shot. <br /><br />The rest of the weekend, way low key, I mean after that emotionally draining experience the last thing I needed was male female interaction. I hibernated with a few of my closest friends and tried to keep my mind off of the What If Game!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-79940415799109592442010-08-09T19:52:00.007-04:002010-08-09T20:27:15.393-04:00Week in Review: Two Men, One Summer & That Thing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TGCU-qA11MI/AAAAAAAAApQ/exFaHWZpYbU/s1600/giant+jenga.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 259px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TGCU-qA11MI/AAAAAAAAApQ/exFaHWZpYbU/s320/giant+jenga.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503562548797363394" /></a><br />As the summer rounds the bases on fall I’m busy reflecting. Yeah I know that we technically have about 4 more weeks left however, I can smell da rain coming – in my Sofia from <em>The Color Purple</em> voice. It’s been fun! I accomplished the summer ‘10 goal: meet a bunch of random guys. Gone on plenty of dates and burned more daytime minutes than I care to discuss. <br /><br />At the same time, I failed. Here’s the thing. I decided that I wanted the summer o’ men out of rebound-ness. Some chose to screw their way out of break-ups I chose to date, po-tey-to/po-tah-to, whichever you prefer! Dating buffet style allows you to sample without over indulging in one flavor, and as we know variety is the spice of life.<br /><br />This summer I needed He Who Must Not Be Named so removed from my bloodstream that at his name antibodies attacked. It didn’t happen, my body, forever infected by this man! I haven’t built enough immunity to ward off thoughts of him, comparison of him or in general I want him back-ness and it makes me feel weak. And weak much like can’t should never exist in an adult woman’s vocabulary. But maybe its not weak maybe it’s human! How could it be that there exists one absolute feeling that with all my jujitsu defense mechanism I’m incapable of thrashing? Me, the emotion catcher can’t bottle this one man up and let him go to never be spoken/contemplated again. Really I detest the What If game I’ve begun to play. <br /><span class="fullpost"><br />I played the What If game a lot after Future Ex Husband. What if I never went to that last party? What if I never met Struggling Athlete? What if I was capable of compromise? What if I put my career goals aside? What if I overcame Faith? Those damn What If bandits hit below the belt, and those imps like it! <br /><br />I’m positive the What Ifs keep me up at all hours of the night thinking about things that I cannot change. And I’m equally positive my thoughts of him are photographs of yesterday that I can’t have tomorrow because time moves forward not in reverse. I understand it, but I don’t have to like it. Not for nothing, the mind also plays a funny game with you, allowing you to fantabulize the past into something it wasn’t. I wasn’t 100% happy with The Spaniard. I wasn’t! Ask any of my friends. But the What Ifs play a role here too. What if 70% happy is enough, how can one be 100% happy? It’s impossible because perfection outside of chocolate doesn’t exist.<br /><br /><em>So that was a hella long stream of consciousness and randomness I will get into the deets of the week right about now!</em><br /><br />As mentioned I’m having a serious problem with sleeping. For whatever reason, I cannot find comfort in my bed, whatever conclusions you can draw from that let me know. Tuesday I avoided plans with Jon B. In the land of ho-ness there are few opportunities. The night I semi passed out was his missed chance at freakiness. Considering his intentional and calculated move from potentially datable to only freakable leave him very few openings for Faith-time. He is feeling the burn as evidenced by his multiple text messages and phone calls dripping of teen spirit aka desperation. He is losing cool points and cuteness simultaneously…a bad look.<br /><br />In between Jon B’s slide from grace I avoided calls from Zack Morris. He smells of I’m Just Not that Into You! True I like nerds but his ongoing conversations about Sonic Burger and Saved by the Bell make me wonder if he majored in Serial Killer for undergrad. I am no one’s Criminal Minds episode mmkay!<br /><br />On Friday I had plans with Pretty Skin. It was nothing major just a movie date. It didn’t require actual outfit thoughts, which was good because work shattered most of my brain fabric by mid afternoon. I’m just saying reviewing functions in excel is not my forte.<br /><br />I met PS at his house, yup still not ready for that know where I live thing. Unfortunately he lives in one of my least favorite neighborhoods in Philadelphia, North Filthy! My siddity came out heavy, initial thought: Is my car safe? I pocketed that thought and pulled up in front of his house with a smile that faded extra quick. Insert doorag stage left. I don’t do doorags worn as fashion…we are not 18 anymore. He eased my irkness by stating that he meant to remove it before he came outside but forgot, then flashed his 1000 watt. I melt for a man with a great smile of which Pretty Skin qualifies. He dressed way casual, but still cute. Did I mention that PS is of the handsome bred that chicks of all ages swoon for, what luck!<br /><br />We went to see <em>Inception</em> at the Loews in Cherry Hill. That was the first time in a long time that I saw a theater packed. Typically I go to Warrington to see movies to avoid the riff raff from the city. In any event, great movie! We saw the 9:05 showing and midway through the movie the sleep monsters started attacking. The movie was so incredibly good that I fought them off but not without leaning my head on PS’s more than capable shoulders. He gave me both a hand and leg massage during the flick. It felt natural, unrushed and I didn’t move his hand, maybe I like this guy…hmm!<br /><br />On the drive home we talked about past relationship baggage. This is never good date convo but I guess it had to be done. I told him about my commitment issues, maybe it was too soon! He told me about his ready to settle down stories and how he wants to enjoy all part of being in a committed relationship with one special woman. Cap up, possibly but it did sound good despite my fear of waking up next to the same man every day of the week. We parted ways with a single kiss, nice lips! No sparks though, I fear it has something to do with my earlier ramblings, you judge it.<br /><br />Shortly after driving off of Pretty Skin’s block I receive a text message from Jon B. I believe these two men have some weird telepathy. Seriously every time I’m talking to one the other calls or sends a text message. And it wouldn’t be so bad if their names didn’t rhyme. I guess that’s the powers that be idea of irony or sarcasm.<br /><br />Anywho, as expected he was feeling out my chilling inclination! Believe me it wasn’t there. I’d just locked lips with PS and honestly felt some type of way about potentially locking <strike>fuglies</strike> lips with someone else in little over an hour. Bottom line I wasn’t feeling it, point blank period. I proceeded to tell Jon B a half-truth, that I was too tired to make it out for any “fun.” And it was true in part, you read my randomness above but you didn’t know that I’d been up since 3:30AM staring at the patterns the moon makes on my ceiling, playing the What If game and not winning. <br /><br />He texted a joke about cuddling that I found funny. Then he texted something semi vulgar that sparked my interest, I shain’t tell a lie but I just didn’t feel like entertaining it. And more importantly I don’t like folk taking the ho stroll unless I’m right there walking the plank with him. I ignored the last message, which sparked a phone call. His voice is like butter, oh my frigging God! After the initial pleasantries he asked when we were getting together again. Earlier in the week I’d learned that Saturday was a no go for him so I said Sunday might be open if he so chose. He told me something about work but possibly switching schedules. I responded that it wasn’t that deep and he should keep his schedule in tact, we ended on Tuesday.<br /><br />On Saturday I spent the day with Granny SJ, Wander and Pudding Pop, a close cousin. We went to the Hibachi grill. Awesome! I’d never been but upon walking in it reminded me of the Benihana I went to in Toronto. I tasted fried ice cream for the first time, quite an experience. Next week we’re supposed to get together again and hopefully Granny Frannie will be able to go with us as well. It was cool having a three-generation brunch/lunch.<br /><br />Later that evening I packed a bag and made my way to the Best Friend’s house for her impromptu sleepover. Half of the Doublemint Twins was there along with Nurse Fried. We played truth or dare Jenga for shots of our drinking buddies, Vodka and Rum followed by a rousing game of Scattergories. Between the shots and scattering of Jenga pieces we discussed our favorite topic, men! By night’s or better yet morning’s end there were no conclusions. Men are as easy as they are complicated, and that is my final answer.<br /><br />The combo of Jenga and Vodka resulted in me falling asleep on the Best Friend’s couch in my clothes. Luckily I was of sound enough mind to wrap my hair in my headscarf. Faith would have been a very unhappy butterfly come morning if this didn’t happen considering I’d just gotten the do tossed on Friday before my date with PS. <br /><br />By midday Sunday everyone had surfaced with stomachs rubbing their backs. We crowded into a booth at Michaels, ordered breakfast food, bussed each other’s chops and talked men for a couple of hours. This is typical behavior after late nights with the girls. <br /><br />After brunch I sent a text message to Pretty Skin to see how his trip down south was going to which he responded it was going well. In between my text back to him to ask when he was coming home, a text message came in from Jon B. I told you these two are like conjoined twins or something. I finished my textversation with PS before responding to Jon.<br /><br />As luck may have it or not Jon B was off early from work and had a few hours to kill. Hmm, oh how I love being someone’s afterthought. It makes me feel all warm and tingling inside. Anywho I explained to him that I was in North Wales and wouldn’t be back to the city for a little while but I’d give him a call if I made it back early. He didn’t get that call. Believe me when I made it back home not even an hour after texting him I thought about calling but bailed on the idea relatively quickly. His windows of opportunity are closing fast…we’ll see what happens Tuesday.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-75484121626191231932010-08-04T20:29:00.007-04:002010-08-04T20:42:59.225-04:00Weekend Update: Second Date with Pretty Skin, Randomness in Old City & Intentional #Hosh*t Avoided<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TFoGGWRLaWI/AAAAAAAAApI/W8hGcdTLYA4/s1600/cuba+libre.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TFoGGWRLaWI/AAAAAAAAApI/W8hGcdTLYA4/s320/cuba+libre.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501716600913095010" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">This is the inside of Cuba Libre</span></div><br /><div><div>Tre-depressing, by Friday I had no concrete weekend plans and with the non-stop workweek I had more than enough tension to work out of my system. Nurse Friend says that everyone deserves two dates. In that same vein, I decided Pretty Skin and I should go bowling. Mom Nature, the wench that she is, vetoed all hope last Sunday with the tree falling curve ball but I set the wheels in place for Friday night. Surprise surprise I’m not always one hundred percent shallow. We did have a good first date, as first dates go, and well Pretty Skin is scrumptilicious despite his purple elephant.<br /><br />We decided, or more accurately I decided that we’d meet up at North Bowl. I’m not ready to have Pretty Skin in my neck of the woods just yet. As men go he’s in probation. During this phase his position on the island can be revoked at the slightest hint of riding the short bus. <br /><br />I remember cancelling a guy’s membership for a haircut gaffe. Shallow! In my defense the Nike swosh sideburns were the last straw after he licked my face. No exaggeration, he licked the right side of my face, intentionally. It was a very WTF moment. In hindsight even if he unintentionally licked my face I would have still revoked his privileges. I mean who licks people’s faces? Is that what the kool kids do on the streets, I’m just asking!<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Anywho, I left work in enough time to make it home to transform into date suitable attire. After nagging the Little Sister about my shoe selection, I decided on a pair of 3 ½ inch platform stilettos considering Pretty Skin’s lack of height. I aimed to be shorter than him in heels, see I’m capable of compromise.<br /><br />I arrived at North Bowl shortly after 9:30, to a text message from PS advising he would be about 10 minutes late. Since I was in a fantabulous mood after scoring great parking I didn’t let it irk me and made my way to the bar. It was packed! Luckily I was able to squeeze onto a stool in between two groups of gents at the bar. Neither group was my taste but I wasn’t going to stand for the next ten minutes waiting for PS.<br /><br />An ashy-footed troll from the group of gents to my left struck up casual conversation. I made it a point to tell him I was in fact waiting for a date aka not interested. He misinterpreted my refusal to be rude as a sign that I was in fact interested. When I repeated my whole I’m waiting for a date he responded, “Where they do that at? Nobody dates anymore! I would have just asked you to come to my house and chill.” I said, “And that would explain why we’re not here together, no offense.” He laughed as if I were joking…I wasn’t. About two minutes later Pretty Skin saved me from tossing a drink. He even offered to say something to the troll but I told him it wasn’t that serious, men and their machismo!<br /><br />As it turns out my bowling skills are hella rusty. PS wasn’t really all that good but he gave it his best. He did beat me the second game, barely! That almost win didn’t stop him from clowning me for the rest of the night. I can’t stand losing. And good thing for having to switch to bowling shoes because I was TALLER (note the extra emphasis) than him in my heels. This was even more obvious when we parted ways for the evening and he gave me a kiss on the forehead. Way sweet!<br /><br />Methinks he likes me too much. At one point during the night PS asked if I thought we were compatible. WTH, don’t throw curve balls buddy! We’re not ready for those types of conversations I just wanna enjoy the summer without considering folks feelings. Feelings are for the winter.<br /><br />On Saturday Nurse Friend and I decided we would hit up a party at Marathon Grill on 10th Street. We were determined to get out of the house earlier than our usual 11:30 starts. It actually happened. We were out the door by 10, booyah! As we drove down Walnut Street I swear I saw tumbleweed blew out the door of the Marathon Grill so we switched plans mid stride to Old City.<br /><br />Since Mom Nature wasn’t riding the crimson wave, we were able to grab a table outside at Continental in perfect earshot of the fantabulousness of Cuba Libre. I ordered some yummy (technical term) margarita with flavored watermelon and something else I couldn’t quite make out. Nurse Friend ordered a cherry inspired margarita but didn’t like it. I ended up drinking both and ordering another watermelon and a bay breeze before the night was over. To say I was toasty is an understatement hence the intentional hosh*t.<br /><br />Midway through the night I get a text from PS. He wanted to know why I hadn’t called him. Clearly I was unaware that my phone is the only one between the two of us that has outgoing call capabilities. Either way, I wasn’t about to have Pretty Skin monopolize and cockblock my weekend. One day was more than enough Faith time for him. Besides I wouldn’t have been able to wear the uck me pumps I wanted with his dwarfness. I ignored his last text message and kept on drinking.<br /><br />I still got it! Judging by the dude who tripped over the chair and the two or three gents whose necks met with their girlfriend’s hands, I am still a hot commodity. I even pulled a number or two from some random passersby of none importance.<br /><br />Around 11:40ish Jon B crept from underneath his weekend rock and asked what I was doing and if I wanted to get together. Insert intentional hosh*t here, Wander you should consider this the end of the blogpost for you mmkay! I let him know that I was boozing it up with my girls, he was welcome to join or I could meet him later after we left Old City but it would probably be after 2AM. His response, cool he could be my naughty little plaything…hmm curiosity way high. Me thinks that was the tequila talking…or not!<br /><br />After some scandelicious texts back and forth and a slight nudge, <em>I want you so bad right now</em>, I decided it was in my best interest to give Jon a whirl. Insert intentional hosh*t stage left. I agreed to “chill” with him after Nurse Friend and I left Old City.<br /><br />Between drinks, Nurse Friend wrangled a number of an interesting gentlemen who proceeded to cockblock the remainder of the evening. I wasn’t too upset though because remember I was on my way to be someone my momma didn’t raise. Two drinks later, at 2AM we trotted back to Nurse Friend’s car. It was a good night!<br /><br />Nurse Friend pulled up to my apartment a little after 2:30AM. Instead of hoping right into my car I decided to go upstairs and change clothes. The next thing I remember was waking in my party clothes with mascara smeared on my pillowcase…so much for hosh*t!<br /><br />Hindsight being 20/20, that was probably for the best, although I must admit Jon B peaks my carnal curiosity for a number of reasons…<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span></div></div>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-27539414882007225812010-07-28T14:00:00.004-04:002010-07-28T14:12:21.237-04:00Week in Review & Weekend Update: Random Conversations, E-mails from an Old Friend, and the Slow Demise of Jon B<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TFByEAvb0NI/AAAAAAAAApA/PFdRx1jqSX4/s1600/rain+on+sunday"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TFByEAvb0NI/AAAAAAAAApA/PFdRx1jqSX4/s320/rain+on+sunday" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499020558263374034" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: center;">This is what it actually looked like on Sunday, I wasn't being completely vain!</div></span><div><br />This past week has been relatively quiet and kind of boring on the dating front. I’m not mad at it though I need a chance to catch my breath and think some things through. Seriously I will dig into the details in a second.<br /><br />It was a hellacious workweek for me. As we turn the corner on the end of this project I am suddenly worried about what and where my next assignment will be. This is normal consultant angst. After spending a quarter of the year out of the country it’s been lovely being stateside, hell it’s been fantabulous sleeping in my own bed. Hotel rooms are overrated, believe me even the real swanky ones with the raindrop glass enclosed showers overlooking the bedroom. I enjoyed some nights with the Spaniard once or twice I won’t tell a t-waddy (lie)! <br /><br /><em>Remind me that I’m not allowed to mention his name on the blog anymore. I ‘d appreciate a virtual slap the next time it occurs, mmkay!</em><br /><br />Sometime in the middle of the week Virtual Java (VJ – he’s a lawyer and a solder booyah) sends me an e-mail. He was shooting the hashish, you know catching up on all things Faithtastic with sprinkles of the ins and outs of his life. I’ve always wondered how he looks in a suit. Random I know! I have these moments. It would make more sense to you if you knew although I worked with VJ for quite some time I’ve never actually seen him in person. It’s funny how friendship works.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Anywho I’ve always wanted to see VJ in action, not the soldier action because that would be a scosh on the dangerous side and might involve ruining a pair of my uck me pumps. We know that’s not going down! Maybe one day we’ll get that cup of java in the flesh especially since he can’t offer me any near the grave rich men to front my shoe habit. Shame on him! Even without the sugar daddy, it was nice to hear from Virtual Java. I smiled midday. That never happens!<br /><br />In the land of gentleman callers, Pretty Skin blew up my phone all damn week. Clearly his lack of a job provides a little too much free time. In general I’m not a phone person. This is a byproduct of half my workday spent gabbing. Most of the conversations drain my chitchat for the uck of it-ness! I must give him the gold star for effort though. He makes sure to send little how you doing text messages throughout the day, you know just checking to see if I still have a pulse. PS would probably make a decent boyfriend minus his purple elephant if that’s what I was looking for, but it is the summer o’ men. Even with the small dry spell this week I mustn’t lose focus. <br /><br />After playing phone tag, mostly me avoiding PS’ calls, I agreed to have date two, bowling on Sunday afternoon. As luck may have it Mother Nature, disrespectful tramp, blessed us with a storm by mid afternoon requiring a schedule adjustment to the coming weekend. He seemed genuinely disappointed but with whipping rain, falling trees and torrential winds I wasn’t risking my hair to the element. Before you ask, yes it’s like that! Me, Thunderstorm and that biotch Humidty aren’t on speaking terms.<br /><br />Between my calls with PS I took one or two from Italian Stallion whose name is forever changed to Zack Morris (gold star and a cartwheel for you if you know what late 80’s- early 90’s tv show that comes from), a more appropriate fit. He’s nice in a date a dork kind of way, which isn’t inherently bad for me because I like nerds…insofar as they don’t look like nerds. Pocket protectors and suspenders are against my religion. <br /><br />My issue, be prepared I’m about to say something racial. I don’t date white guys who’ve never dated black girls. I’m no one’s test run! Popping cherries t’aint my forte and I really don’t wanna have to explain my headscarf. A date might clear this air but so far I’ve skated around the notion of us sitting in front of a whole meal of food. I fear this dance won’t last long and right now he’s more out than in. <br /><br />Jon B was incognegro for majority of the week. He sent a few feeler text messages and we had a couple two-minute phone calls, nothing like our hours long convos from weeks past. This wasn’t all his doing. His purple elephant wears bright neon tights and a yellow hat to match. The sideways ex chatter is a little much for me. I mean I looked at an old picture of he who must not be named this past week but I quickly regrouped and put on the strong face. Jon B needs to man up. If he wants his ex back, me tinks he does, call that trick and make it happen, otherwise toss up the deuces!<br /><br />On Sunday JB called a little before 10PM asking if we could grab a drink. Hmm…based on the lack of enthusiasm in my voice I’m going with a strong no. And he so violated the don’t call me while True Blood is on rule. Hun-nay please! Noteworthy he shows up consistently every Sunday, I wonder what that’s about? He did say he really wants to see me…that sounds like one-eyed sailor speak to me. You judge it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span></div>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-76187086752184334762010-07-23T14:20:00.005-04:002010-07-23T14:38:17.823-04:00Weekend Update: First Date with Pretty Skin, Condo Scoping and Jon B’s Red Flags Coming to Roost<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TEnds6zVyAI/AAAAAAAAAo4/IrRMUfb48Ak/s1600/johnny+mananas.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 308px; height: 231px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TEnds6zVyAI/AAAAAAAAAo4/IrRMUfb48Ak/s320/johnny+mananas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5497168583950977026" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small; ">Picture of the actual place in East Falls</span></div><br />By end of business on Friday I was more than ready to call it quits. After working with Texas on a few of my more recent assignments I ended up shackled to him again for a portion of the work on my current project. Clearly the work gods are not friends with me on Facebook. If they handed out degrees for jumping on my last nerve Texas would graduate summa cum laude! And that might actually be an understatement.<br /><br />Earlier in the day the Realtor sent me the list of three properties we’d scope out after I was finished working. It was a toss up whether I was going to walk or catch a cab. I’ve decided that close proximity to my office and downtown Philadelphia is one of my more important must haves for my new place in addition to ample closet space. When I stepped outside Humidity damn near stole my will to live, cab it was. In better weather the trek to Northern Liberties or in this case slightly below Northern Liberties on the outskirts of not the greatest neighborhood wouldn’t be half bad and good exercise. But in the butt blazing heat I just wasn’t making it happen. In any event we looked at the three places, none keepers and parted ways in front of my office. The Realtor was nice enough to drop me off, must be the commission!<br /><br />By the time I made it home from condo searching it was 7:15. I’d agreed to have Pretty Skin pick me up around 8ish but that would be cutting it too close. Besides the fact that I wasn’t too keen on the idea of him knowing where I live. Shoot I didn’t really know why he was in the in bing, this is slang for jail carry on. I made a quick call and told PS since it was getting later than anticipated I would meet him wherever he decided we were having dinner. <br /><span class="fullpost"><br />We met at Johnny Manana’s on Ridge Avenue in East Falls. Even though I live a hop, skip and a jump away from there I’d never been. And he gets a gold star because I heart American Mexican food. Yes that’s ridonkulous I know but authentic Mexican food is prepared with corn meal, which I don’t particularly care for but American Mexican is made with flour and I likes me some flour. Digressing a bit I know right!<br /><br />Anywho, the date was alright, to scale it, probably a 6.5. The conversation with PS was easy but I needed to get the 411 on this whole jailhouse experience. For a minute I thought he was trying to avoid the pink elephant but he says, could be a cap up one never knows, he doesn’t like to talk about his past self because that’s not who he is anymore. I can dig it; especially since his past self distributed street pharmaceuticals. He said he deserved his five-year punishment and he would never do anything to find himself in that situation again.<br /><br /><em>What the deuces do you know how much has changed in the past five years – shoot that’s a lifetime in cell phone technology?</em><br /><br />He seemed genuine but uh I’ve seen half an episode of Oz and I can’t get down with the get down if you know what I’m saying! Oh and then the other two bombshells of the night, he has a 9 year old daughter from a jump off…not even a relationship and that architectural firm, he was the equivalent of Mailroom Boy’s supervisor, it figures! But the icing on the cake, no job right now but I guess this is to be expected. He is a barber, unlicensed, so that’s his current hustle until he gets a legitimate tax-paying job. At least he’s actively searching, that’s a lot more than I can say for some folks I know who will remain nameless…<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Little Brother</span>!<br /><br />After all those details my head was spinning and I asked if we could end the night a bit early. PS seemed slightly disappointed but whatevs, in actuality I was all types of tired and I had some serious thinking to do. Besides <a href="http://chaoticallycalm.blogspot.com/2009/08/week-in-review-like-old-times-with.html">siddity</a> Faith started rearing her ugly mug and I didn’t want to go there with this gent just yet. Despite his checkered past, which he was very honest about, we had a relatively decent mini date. He was easy to talk to, could hold a decent conversation and he laughed at my oddball jokes. I’m a nerd at heart folks!<br /><br />When I got home I de-clothed, sent a text message to PS letting him know I got home safe and thanked him for dinner, washed the slight make-up off my face and said, DAMN! No literally that’s what happened. Nothing a good night’s sleep and a small prayer wouldn’t help, right! I woke the next morning and said, I’m going to see how things play out, cautiously with Pretty Skin. I mean he didn’t directly kill anyone right?<br /><br />Saturday plans grab a quasi-expensive gift for Male Nurse Friend (MNF) and make it to his birthday BBQ. By mid day this plan was all but a memory. I had no motivation. For whatever reason, maybe the hellish workweek or the exhaustion that sprouts from maintaining too many gentleman callers was catching up with me. Believe it or not I’m not as young as I used to be! <br /><br />In any event I opted for a card and a gift certificate to Dave N Busters for MNF. When I drove to his apartment there was no parking, after looping three times I called it quits and drove back home. I know that probably was wrong (it ain’t like his non showing butt hasn’t stood me up on a number of occasions) but I really wasn’t in the mood for the queens he invited anyway.<br /><br />Earlier that day I’d texted Jon B to see if we were still on for True Blood. By 11PM I had no response so I figured that was the end. Damn I really read that man’s intentions wrong. My dating wheels need some oil I guess.<br /><br />On Sunday I rose early and cleaned the apartment. Since I’m not traveling I’m back to my normal weekend scrub the home routine, me likes. I sparked up a random conversation with Italian Stallion around 3ish and in the middle Jon B called, now what woodwork did he crawl out of? I ended up calling him back around 6:30, you know just to see what excuse he’d give for doing a no call no show.<br /><br />Apparently his ex called to let him know he can no longer be involved in her daughter’s life. He was devastated and needed some time to himself to decompress. Hmmm…pretty janky on her part and all types of effed up for her daughter considering Jon B is the only father the girl’s ever known. He seemed to be taking it quite hard. I thought I heard him choking back some tears. I offered him some words, I mean what else was there to do and told him to get back to me when he felt he was up for company. I don’t feel like I need to make any effort here. Red flags are busting out of the seams on this one!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;" /></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-28776928785699113072010-07-20T17:38:00.004-04:002010-07-20T17:51:29.740-04:00Week in Review: Returning from Vacation, Meeting the Realtor and Chats with Boys<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TEYXi9FbSBI/AAAAAAAAAow/nNayuievP8c/s1600/true+blood.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TEYXi9FbSBI/AAAAAAAAAow/nNayuievP8c/s320/true+blood.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496106284532582418" /></a><br />After returning from vacation I settled back into my life of working until 8 at night. Old habits die hard people. But before you go all ape shit on me I was able to squeeze in some me time. And by me time I mean I was a regular chatty Cathy with a bunch of the gents from the summer line up.<br /><br />Jon B and I were communicating quite well. We chatted every night before I went to bed making his the last voice I heard before shuteye. As the boys go he was making quite the impression. Every night was a new discovery of things we have in common, writing, music, politics etc etc etc. The cautious Faith inside says this man is too good to be true. I must keep his red flags front and center and of course remember he is one amongst in the summer o men. <br /><br />By midweek it was clear a third date/get together was oh so necessary with Jon B. We agreed since he’d missed all but the season premiere of True Blood he’d come over Sunday early afternoon to get caught up on the older episodes and stay for the new one. I was schoolgirl giddy which is a sharp contrast to my cool as the other side of the pillow demeanor.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />The Best and Nurse Friend said that with him coming over I’d most definitely lose our summer bet. The summer bet, Wander earmuffs, that for every week we go without having sex we have to add five dollars to the pot. At the end of the summer, if we all make it we’ll collectively use the money toward some group fun. If there’s only one frustrated chica left standing, she wins the pot. Oh yeah Wander you can de-earmuff now!<br /><br />Unfortunately after setting up our date all communication ended between Jon B and I. No responses to my two feeler text messages. True I’m knocking the rust off my dating skills but I didn’t think I was that far removed. I thought I was reading his signs very well I mean how else should one take goodnight beautiful I will talk to you tomorrow. Clearly these days that’s code for I’m just not that into you! Such as life!<br /><br />My initial reach out to Pretty Skin was via text. He was surprised to hear from me. That night at Copa I didn’t give him my number. Instead I elected to take his and ponder some more if I can stomach the whole I’ve been home from jail for 6 months. Hmm….if this ain’t a red flag I don’t know what is. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of dating or co-mingling with ex-felons. Of course before we judge a man by his past actions we must first know what those past actions entail. I mean the man did say, before getting caught in his double life, that he worked at an architectural firm in the city. He has the potential to jump right back on his feet, right? I decided to schedule an official first date with him Friday you know just to get a little more of his felony story.<br /><br />My Friday was looking quite packed. Before agreeing to the date with Pretty Skin I’d set up to some time with the realtor to look at some properties in the city. This is my final step into adulthood. I figure it’s time to own something or let me rephrase pretend to own something while the banks sucks the life energy from my paycheck. I assume after I sign all that paperwork the last ounce of anything kid will ooze out of my body. I’m just assuming. The condos were nice but not what I’m looking for. The Realtor got a kick out my many jokes about boys and deduced that my square footage restriction will be 1200sq feet of mostly closet space. I need somewhere to house all these shoes and clothes and what not.<br /><br />Anywho I bailed on my Tuesday date with Argyle Freak. He just wasn’t my cup of tea so I sent him off the island never to be heard of again. A-freaking-mazing body and all didn’t wool my eyes from his true intentions. Curiosity has in the past made me do some not mama proud things but I’m not 19 hell I’m not even 24 anymore so I can’t blame poor life decisions on being young and dumb. I’m sure someone else will fall victim to Argyle’s abs of steel.<br /><br />I had random not sure if they are going anywhere conversations with Mr. Late Nite, Jamerican, Italian Stallion and Trini Man. Yeah I know I sprung some names on y’all but they are in the background dudes that I’m not sure will make it to prime time.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-53316472349938503852010-07-17T14:31:00.003-04:002010-07-17T14:42:00.471-04:00Weekend Update: Second Dates and Nights with the Girls Part III<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TEH3ShzLGgI/AAAAAAAAAoo/XP-XhPfKwbY/s1600/harrahs.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TEH3ShzLGgI/AAAAAAAAAoo/XP-XhPfKwbY/s320/harrahs.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494944918051428866" /></a><br /><br />We called it a night around 2ish. I ignored the bouncer’s attempts to woo and walked back to the car unscathed by his advances with my girls. We’d decided to crash at The Best Friend’s house, alls yeah an impromptu sleepover. <br /><br />Clearly we, me and The Best Friend that is, were not up for the challenge of the sleepover because as soon as I had hair in scarf my eyes closed. I was down for the count. And I do mean the count since I didn’t wake up until well after 12 in the afternoon. Now that’s not something I typically do, y’all know my battle with that biotch, Insomnia.<br /><br />Anywho, Nurse Friend met the Best Friend and I at our favorite diner in North Wales. Since we’d canceled our trip to Ocean City due to inclement weather we needed to replace that with some equally fun thing for Saturday night. Ended on gambling in Chester. Not exactly the best replacement but we were working with limited options. And I really wasn’t in the market for hanging out in the city again. Don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with the city, I mean I hearts the city in a major way but I’d played the city ticket all week and wanted to spice it up a bit.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Harrahs in Chester was just going to have to do. We parted ways for a few hours, so I could catch up on some e-mail from work and Nurse Friend needed to meet her family for her mom’s birthday celebration. By 9ish Nurse Friend was on her way to scoop me up so we could meet the Best Friend. My bestie was on point for driving since I’d played designated the night before.<br /><br />Needless to say I didn’t win any money. Well let me not tell a lie. I won about $120 dollars but I ended up giving it all back to the casino. Nurse Friend did tell me to cash out once I was up but I just didn’t listen...hindsight is 20/20. Not counting the $120 that I gave back I only really lost about thirty bucks of my hard earned cash so I’m not gonna complain. Did you know they still have penny machines? It was a bunch of blue haired ladies with ciggies (cigarettes) and drinks pulling slots anxiously watching pennies (yes I said pennies) fluctuate. <br /><br />Some troll at the bar kept making impromptu eye contact and I wasn’t feeling any of that. No cuties that night, but considering the growing roster that might not be a bad thing. My thought, summer o’ men should include a man for every day of the week. Is that being greedy? <br /><br />Casino security harassed us for taking pictures, ugh what janky rules. I was actually told I needed to delete any photos, me thinks not! Oh did I forget to mention the drink The Best Friend spilled on me, and she wasn’t even drunk. <br /><br />During our stint in the casino I could have sworn I saw Jon B saunter by with a less than attractive chic-let, competition. I like competition. Part of me wanted to swing by him so he’d see my hotness in comparison to the dud he had on his arm…jealousy maybe. Of course it might not have been him, or was it! <br /><br />Once we’d gambled away our hard earned thirty bucks apiece we made our way to the car. I switched into some flip-flops for the ride home but not before we got our Ciara on in the parking lot dancing for no one but ourselves and laughing all the way. This is what I love about my friends always up for acting 12!<br /><br />Overall the weekend was great! I hadn’t decided if I was ready to deal with Pretty Skin’s issue, if I would see Argyle Freak on Tuesday or when I’d catch up with Jon B. Of course there was Mr. Late Night in the background. Clearly this is going to be a productive summer!<br /><br />Side note I had a very very interesting Sunday night text, cell phone and webcam conversation with Jon B. Spank him kindly for the oh so tasty pictures. Maybe he won’t stay in the friendzone. Only time will tell!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-27677815367980685622010-07-14T18:30:00.007-04:002010-07-14T22:44:17.994-04:00Weekend Update: Second Dates and Nights with the Girls Part II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TD46rL4b41I/AAAAAAAAAog/LcHWy5juzh4/s1600/summer+o+men.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 285px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TD46rL4b41I/AAAAAAAAAog/LcHWy5juzh4/s320/summer+o+men.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493893109036868434" /></a><br /><br />I was feeling slightly tipsy when I left the bar, way irresponsible I know. Since I hate waking up with alcohol on the tummy I decided to stop at the Wawa on Germantown Avenue in Mt. Airy to grab something quick to coat my stomach. Believe me the Wawa is a regular meat market after last call, not my intentions for going but eye candy is nice at any time of day or night.<br /><br />There were a couple of cuties I saw giving me the eye when I was ordering my food but I didn’t pay it any mind. I quickly grabbed my slip from the counter and went to pay for my items. Mr. Late Nite was in front of me in the line. He turned around, nice shoulders, and said, “Damn you smell good. What is that you have on?” Never one to disappoint a fan I responded that I was wearing Chanel Chance. He said something like he was going to add it to his personal memory because it smelled amazing! Spank him kindly.<br /><br />When I went to the counter to retrieve my sandwich Mr. Late Nite was still standing there. He started asking the usual questions one ask when he wants to secure another’s phone number. I began tabulating in my mind whether he could be added to the roster of summer potentials. My decision, yes for those shoulders alone he could gain admittance on the island.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Mr. Late Nite walked me to my car so we could exchange numbers. For whatever reason I’d left my cell in the car. Once at the car, I could see Jon B was calling. Probably checking to make sure I’d made it home, so sweet. Anywho I picked up the phone because I didn’t want Jon B to think I’d careened off the side of the road. Mr. Late Nite was quiet while I chit chatted and asked Jon if I could give him a buzz once I was settled and in the house. <br /><br />After I hung up, Mr. Late Nite asked who I was talking to, to which I responded, some dude. I’m not into lies people and I don’t owe either one of these gents anything. Mr. Late Nite said he liked how smooth I handled the situation and respected me for not lying. Why lie? Either way we exchanged numbers and I made my way home. By the time I got settled it was around 2:30ish. I called Jon B back, promises must be kept, and we talked until about 4. By that time my eyelids were heavy and I had to get some sleep to prepare for ladies weekend.<br /><br />Friday was packed with an ish load of errands. I woke up and cleaned the kitchen and bathroom while I waited for The Little Brother to come home with my car. I finished reorganizing my room, you know de-Spaniardizing. Once The Little Brother was home I made my way to the hair salon to get my do tossed. Side note my hair is on a growth spurt and I like it. I was slightly annoyed that my stylist was overbooked and I ended up waiting for several hours, the usual but for whatever reason I was irked.<br /><br />After leaving the shop I headed down to the Urban Outfitters on 36th and Chestnut to see if I could pick up something cute for the night. Originally the Best and Nurse friend decided on Cuba Libre in Olde City but to be honest I wasn’t feeling salsa all night long, papichulos yes salsa no! In any event I was able to convince the girls that a nice low-key night out was far better. We agreed to go to Copacabana on 40th & Spruce. Side not I didn’t even wear the outfit I picked up out that night instead I opted for an oldie but goodie from my closet.<br /><br />At first Copa was looking dead. I almost regretted my not so subtle suggestion of forgoing Cuba Libre. Once we got to the door we realized it was in deed in rare form inside, great! The doorman was giving me the eye but I wasn’t returning the favor. Sorry friend just not my type but he was nice and he carded us so my still looking under 21 card is still in effect, fantabulous!<br /><br />The music was knocking; this is slang for good, carry on. The DJ spun a good mix of oldies and new school hip-hop and r&b. The vibe in Copa was nice. I ordered my signature and my friends ordered there’s. We were partying with our best friends, Vodka and Rum. Sometimes that’s all you need. Mid way through the evening Pretty Skin (PS) asked if he could join our trio.<br /><br />My initial reaction was to blow him off because this was in fact girls night out but I had to remind myself, quickly, that it is also the summer of men. I didn’t want to be a cock blocker. Not to mention the man is easy on the eyes. He’s not what I would call a charmer but he did make me laugh a bit especially when Nurse Friend refused to shake his hand. He asked her if she was protecting herself from H1N1. Y’all know I have <a href="http://chaoticallycalm.blogspot.com/2008/10/personal-space-hand-sanitizer.html">issues with shaking</a> as well however I was fully prepared to anti-bacterial my hands once he left. <br /><br />For whatever reason Nurse Friend was being a bit of a ball buster, not typically her lane. We reserve the busting of balls especially for The Best Friend. But I guess everyone has her night. At some point during the conversation that ice wall Nurse Friend was building came tumbling down. Could it have been the Vodka, one never knows. She was most definitely feeling a little nice because when PS asked her the best part of her former relationship she said the SEX. I almost spit out my drink for laughing so hard. No shocker to me being her friend and all but I was real horriprised sort of like seeing your grandparents knocking knees that she even said something like that to him.<br /><br />Eventually PS asked if he could get my number. Before he revealed his little secret I was all ready to pony up, if he was in fact interested in me. There were three of us at the table all equally attractive; I can’t be that vain chick to think every guy wants me. In my mind they do but that is beside the point. <br /><br />Anywho the man’s skin was glowing. I mean his skin was so smooth and so medium chocolate-esque I considered touching his face but I thought it might be rude. The Best Friend just came out and said something like you know your skin is gorgeous. She ain’t never told a lie! In any event I took his number to mull over if I can deal with his issue before he left us to return to his friend.<br /><br />My highpoint of the night was when Nurse Friend stormed back to the table from the bathroom. As it turns out some sloppy whores where screwing some dude in the ladies room. Side note they could have been doing lines but me doubts it from the way they walked out, no eye contact after The Best Friend knocked on the door po-po style. Pretty Skin offered to watch the door while Nurse Friend used the men’s room. Now wasn’t that nice of him, trying to earn brownie points!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6521993746854557819.post-73838039335773260492010-07-12T22:56:00.009-04:002010-07-13T09:01:30.322-04:00Weekend Update: Second Dates and Nights with the Girls Part I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TDvWPAykCxI/AAAAAAAAAoY/rD_bGzZfG-4/s1600/second+date.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 233px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CXxIIzX3htM/TDvWPAykCxI/AAAAAAAAAoY/rD_bGzZfG-4/s320/second+date.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493219723906910994" /></a><br /><br />This will be the summer of men no doubt. If you speak these things into the universe sometimes the universe will give you what you want in return. Someone up there is smiling down on me….and I likes it!<br /><br />So I had a double booking on Thursday night. An early test the waters with Argyle Freak and a late night chit chat with Jon B. I was looking forward to both for different reasons. To get up to speed read the <a href="http://chaoticallycalm.blogspot.com/2010/07/argyle-freak.html">prior post</a>.<br /><br />As luck or fate may have it, Argyle was way late getting back to me about what time we should meet up so I cancelled our plans in my mind. By 9PM it was entirely too late to squeeze him in before Jon B. Jon B and I were tentatively scheduled to meet for drinks at 11PM. Around 9:40ish Argyle sent a text message about just joining him at his house…hmm late night with Shemar Moore look-a-like probably not the best first date experience. Wander didn’t raise no hussies round these parts.<br /><span class="fullpost"><br />Immediately texted Argyle back and let him know I made other plans because he’d gotten back to me too late in the day. Clearly he was on his period because he threw a small tantrum. Men with women’s mood swings aren’t attractive however did I tell you how a-freaking-mazing Argyle’s body is…concessions can be made. After his b*tch-fit subsided we agreed to meet up Tuesday. Side note I am strongly considering kicking this one off the island though. I mean there is but so much concession in me and well, this is the summer of men. He is one amongst.<br /><br />Jon B got stuck at work later than anticipated, I truly dislike waiting for people, and we didn’t end up meeting until 12:30. Did I forget to mention that Benson (my cat) destroyed the orange sweater I was going to wear? Part of me wanted to kick the cat but I decided against it. <br /><br />Anywho we met at the Tavern on the Hill in Chestnut Hill. I ordered my usual, vodka and cranberry with a splash of pineapple. It is my signature drink. Jon B ordered Absolut on the rocks no chaser, a man’s drink. Granted I hadn’t had much food, when it’s hot outside I tend to eat less food it makes me hot or something, but my damn was that drink strong. After a few sips I was feeling a little too nice. I decided to nurse it for the rest of the evening as to not sound borderline retarded while holding conversation with the man.<br /><br />We conversed about a number of things in particular legalizing drugs, great date convo I know. We debated the pros and cons and came to a general consensus that if alcohol is legal, also a drug, then why not open the lid on controlled substances. One of the early benefits of legalizing drugs would be a swift decline in the crime rates, mainly because trafficking won’t be considered a punishable offense. Two, there is already a market of highly intelligent salesmen and women to continue distribution. Three, and this is the one that should have wayward politicians skeeting in their seats, we could solve a lot of the social ills with the taxes collected from the sale and distribution of said controlled substances. I’m just saying, please don’t hate me for my politics. Consider this, you can never solve a supply and demand problem by attacking the supply. <br /><br />Slightly before 2ish the barkeep yelled for last call. I was still nursing that extra strong drink and Jon B was yawning something vicious, not because of me but he’d worked a 13hr shift. We parted ways with a hug and his casual we should do this again soon. Hmm I’m feeling friendzone at this point, what do y’all think?<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54487/243/62AFB21B7ED63D13C2979E81237F8D18.png" style="border: 0 !important; background: transparent;"/></a></span>Chaotically Calmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02076191018013608974noreply@blogger.com4