A Quarter Life Crisis

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.

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.

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!

Sometimes I wonder how my brother feels being trapped betwixt two crazy sisters?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 engagement ring 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.

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.

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.

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!

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!

Mind you I’ve had the same cell phone number since 1999…WTF!

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.

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?

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!

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!

So I’m not even sure where to start with what’s been going on in the World O’ Faith. Ok well let’s be serious work has monopolized most of my time. But in between that monopoly life’s been storming. And when I say storming, I really mean storms people, but luckily it’s quieting down a bit.

There’s no better place to start besides my last entry. In my previous post I was still stationed in Sao Paolo. Question: Is it possible to age a year in 8 weeks time, probably not but I feel 30 and I haven’t even reached 29 yet! Don’t worry I’m planning on throwing a great big ole bash to bring in 30 and all of my readers (the 2 that are left) are invited. Anywho being so far from family and friends I started to feel like my life at home was just a dream. I know this requires some explanation.

All the characters normally so front in center in my life were puttering around still doing the things they do and living their lives with no involvement from lil ole me…vain much? Not that I thought their lives would automatically cease as I mounted a jumbo jet to Brazil but it was deflating to know that as important as I think I am people were getting along without me. That was a growing moment! The Little Brother was responsible enough to take care of home without my 1001 reminders or nagging. Maybe he didn’t do it just like I would but it got done, the absolute definition of having more than one way to skin a cat. The Best Friend navigated single-dome with the advice and shoulder of Nurse Friend. Male Nurse Friend went on his vakay and took pictures without my angles. My life was going on without me, a movie playing with my cast of characters but I wasn’t in any scenes.

It started to get a little depressing listening to my life instead of living it. I was an outsider amongst family. Faith was not a happy camper, although it was nice to hear from everyone sporadically it only helped to remind me that I was not there in the thick of things. My real life was a dream and the only thing to fall back on was work, not really a thrilling alternative.

Work equaled hell! There is no other way to explain it. For 8 weeks straight I worked 16+ hour days. We know I am career minded; however, at home I balance my scales. I work and play hard, point blank period! In Sao Paolo I worked hard and played not at all. It’s just that simple. And it didn’t help that we had a language barrier that stalled our project for close to two weeks. Given our overly aggressive schedule a two week delay only added to everyone’s stress levels. Not to mention that half the Brazilian team was green, freshly hired consultants with little to no experience. In addition all the deliverables (final documents prepared for the clients) had to be completed by Fellow Traveler and I. All I have to say is pressure busts pipes.

Leaving Sao Paolo was the happiest moment of my adult life to date, how sad is that? Unfortunately arriving in Toronto (for financial reasons we had to fly through Canada) brought the trip home way down. Most of that was due in large part to being detained by Canadian immigration and having my bag searched like a common terrorist. After that fantabulous ordeal I missed my flight back to Philadelphia to which the Air Canada staff replied, “Well it could be a lot worse at least there’s a flight leaving in a few hours.” Thanks, I felt a helluva lot better considering I’d been flying for the last 10 hours hadn’t had a shower, woke to an elderly man swinging his man parts in my face (for whatever reason Crazy Balls, as he was so nicely named, decided during the flight to unhitch his pants and free ball the flight back to Toronto. I didn’t notice any of this from my world o slumber until right before the plane landed waking to see wrinkled testes getting tucked into cargo pants….not a pleasant sight folks nope not at all) and still had 16 or so hours of work to complete that day. Sorry Air Canada you get the forever stank eye (o_O) even more so because the food on the flight to Toronto was a rat’s hair above prison fare.

Remember Canadians are known for hockey and that is all…this is me being a bit snide but Air Canada left a narsty taste in my mouth toward our neighbors to the North.

If it were hygienically safe to kiss the streets in Philly I would have. Considering the potential diseases one might catch I decided against it not to mention the streets were piled high with about 4ft of snow…but believe me I wanted to. Instead I relished that enthusiasm on the Spaniard who escorted me home…he comes in handy sometimes.

It was nice to take a shower in my bathroom and sleep in my bed (my being the key word here). Those single moments of peace were quickly interrupted by more work for the project and that thing we call life. Fellow Traveler and I picked up the slack (a recurring theme over the life of this project) while the Brazilians celebrated Carnival. It must be nice to enjoy a weeklong festival of hedonism right smack in the middle of a project…I wouldn’t know!

Snow jailed me to my apartment. The Little Brother watched as I took conference call after conference call with occasional bathroom breaks; notice I didn’t mention food or sleep. For at least a week I survived off of water and air. This is not the life I signed up for. My weekends were no better. Even when I did get away for Nurse Friend’s half a birthday celebration I was so overburdened with work I could barely enjoy myself. Things were nearing the breaking point.

In the middle of that storm, The Man Wander Married went off the deep end. Honestly that isn’t all that shocking considering he is a functioning lunatic (he’s my daddy and I love him but the truth is the truth). It’s a long story that I will sum up like this, Wander is relocating to an apartment until the papers are signed. Knife in the heart of my moving plans (did I mention that I want to move to San Diego)….yet again I take a backseat to all things family. At this point I can’t even say I mind because I’m so used to it, it just feels normal. And honestly it would be selfish of me to think of me first, right? At this time it’s best to deal with the uncomfortable-ness of parenting my parent until she is back on her feet. What will come of this situation; will be a happier, healthier Wander, of that I am sure!

To add to my confusion because clearly working like a slave and the walls collapsing on my parents already rocky marriage wasn’t enough my body decided to quit on me. Yup right in the middle of it all Fellow Traveler had to rush me to the ER! This will be the second time in 8 weeks time that Fellow Traveler sat in an emergency room with me. The first time I had to have my ear drained by a doctor who barely spoke English. Although he knew enough English to slide me his personal business card wink wink and tell me to call him any time day or night…ugh ugh ugh! If he hadn’t actually cleared the gook (technical term) out of my ear making it possible to hear again I might have reported his narsty a$$. Oh clearly I failed to mention that I got some kind of ear infection on the first flight to Sao Paolo causing me to lose my hearing for 10 days…not pleasant folks not pleasant at all. With the help of Inappropriate Doc I was back to myself relatively quickly. And outside of his behavior that ER trip was quick and painless.

In any event the recent trip to the ER wasn’t nearly as pleasant. Waves of pain ranging from 8-9 on a scale of 10 were hitting me every few minutes. Unfortunately I had to hop on a conference call with Texas before I could be escorted out of the office. Did I forget to mention how he ranted for about five minutes about not letting the stress of the job get to me before allowing Fellow Traveler to take me hobbling in pain to the cab, such a major queef! Yes I called him a queef!

Once at the hospital the pain was pretty much unbearable and threw me into fits of violent vomiting. Side note I never knew that pain could cause nausea, it appears you learn something new every day. Anywho in between spitting up bile all I could think about was the fact that this was the final day of the project and I needed to get the staffing model done before 5PM Brazilian time, clearly my priorities were in the wrong place. In addition to that thought I didn’t want to alarm my mother with my medical condition until I knew for sure what my medical condition was.

Finally, after an hour or so I was wheeled to the back. By that time my temperature was see sawing, one minute I was hot and the next minute I was getting chills. A technician came in to inform me that I wasn’t pregnant. Fantabulous, now figure out why it feels like a gremlin is crawling out the left side of my stomach. After about a half hour my temperature and blood pressure returned to normal….probably a direct result of the pain meds. Now the gremlin was down to a 2-3 out of 10 and the highlight of this day would be a pelvic exam, and I hadn’t even prepped!

And by prep I really mean got myself emotionally ready to have someone stick a duck’s beak somewhere it ain’t supposed to go.

Ms Pelvic went off without a hitch and all was good. I told Adolescent Doc, so named because she looked all of 12, that there was nothing wrong with my woman parts. She advised that since my pain was localized slightly above my uterus, a pelvic was a must along with a CT scan. After the violation of my downtown bonanza I was escorted to the scanning area. In between all of this fun I down played my pain with The Spaniard, Wander and the Little Brother. I mean there was no sense in getting everyone riled up if I wasn’t even 100 on what was wrong with me.

In the end it was just a kidney stone. It passed while I was in the hospital and I was allowed to go home with special instruction to follow up with my PCP just to make sure nothing else was wrong. That appointment is yet to be scheduled.

There’s more of course but this post is already too long so I guess this will be part 1 of a 2 part series. I must catch you up on the happenings of all things romanticals in my life…

When everyone heard that I would be traveling to Brazil for about a month they were all overjoyed. I however only saw trouble. Trouble in the sense that it would be yet another project with Texas, yes infamous Texas from Vancouver would be heading up the work in Brazil (mostly from the US, how I don’t even know). But not because he wanted to head the work but because the manager who was originally staffed and helped sell the project decided to move to greener pastures….lucky him!!!! If you remember anything about Texas, he’s not the best manager but I’m quickly learning that my company talks a lot about being the best however our people and actions pale in comparison. Ah the life of a consultant. Not to mention Texas is super anal retentive, with the most ginormous chip on his shoulder it’s hard to ride in compact cars with him…I mean I’m not complaining I’m just making a friendly observation (maybe not so friendly but you smell what I’m cooking).

Did I forget to mention that I don’t speak a lick, iota, not a word of Portuguese. Guess that didn’t matter to the all mighty powers that be…moving right along!

In any event the prospect of flying to Brazil just a few days after the holiday just didn’t sit well with me. Partially because I am in a bit of a funk about the whole going back on my word about the Spaniard, why do I do this to myself? Something is wrong with me I know. Maybe I really want to believe the lie. The little Faith inside keeps jumping up and down screaming you stoopid stoopid stoopid girl but I just keep ignoring her because sometimes the truth is a lie. Or sometimes we like believing the lie because it’s easier to digest. So my digestible lie is that he’s actually getting a divorce and hasn’t been with his wife for the last three years. I choose to believe this like so many other mistresses (sideways heifer…hey I call it like I live it these days) because it’s easier than admitting the obvious truth, that he’s probably slaying both myself and his wife (shuddering a little in the corner at the detestable nature of that last comment).

Man oh man how those morals they do fall.

And to add insult to injury you know because nothing in my life goes as planned, The Little Brother (TLB) totaled Juan. Yup you read that right; Juan is sipping mojitos in a land where good cars go after ridonkulous accidents on the ice. Before you try to hang me at the stake I made sure my flesh and blood was 100 (this is slang it means ok in this instance) before asking about the car. Believe it or not I haven’t yelled at The Little Brother once for the accident. (This is subject to change if I have trouble securing another equally reliable relatively similarly priced automobile.) TLB suffered nothing more than a bruised ego…too bad his bruised ego had to come at the expense of Juanino. Yet another expense I wasn’t ready for, much like my $600 cell phone bill from making calls in Vancouver on my personal cell, but I guess that’s why they call it life. If it wasn’t full of janky shit it wouldn’t be nearly as fun…or nearly as interesting to blog about.

Ah so back to this whole Faith you’re flying to Brazil thing. Anything that could have gone wrong with this whole trip did go wrong the first week. Let me just give you the run down in bullet point form because well I’m a consultant and we likes our bullet points because it makes us feel like we’re doing our job well. (I would bet half my paycheck there isn’t a presentation (we call them decks) that exists that doesn’t have some form of bullet point, ok I might be pushing this mundane topic too far).

What went wrong in no particular order:

• Told literally at the last minute to book a flight to Brazil at the cheapest rate possible which pretty much meant you’re flying coach unless you have status…ugh!!!!
• Totaled Juan…well I didn’t but TLB did
• Entertained some nonsense with The Spaniard (good and bad for me sort of like ice cream
• Didn’t get my Brazilian visa until the last possible minute (it arrived the Thursday before the flight on Sunday)
• Ignored two state-side text messages, one from Mailroom Boy and the other from the taxi driver (I use my cell as my primary number no I didn’t give my number to yet another random taxi driver) who mistook my friendly conversation for sexual innuendo
• Delayed in Philly airport (not surprising) causing me and Fellow Traveler to dart through Dulles Airport in order to catch the last plane smoking to Sao Paolo
• Saw my life flash before my eyes not once, not twice but three times while in flight on the monster jet from Dulles to Sao Paolo…literally I believe we dropped 5k feet out of the air at one point over the Amazon (children were screaming)
• Arrived in Sao Paolo (Fellow Traveler’s luggage wasn’t so lucky and actually never left Philly) with a serious case of bubble guts but I didn’t make it to the hotel for another two hours…y’all know I can’t do public restrooms
• Met Texas and all he wanted to talk about was how the Eagles lost to the Cowgirls…WHATEVER!!!!!
• Felt like the outer limits of hell traveling in the Sao Paolo traffic
• Expected to actually rush from the airport to the client site after a few minutes of “freshening up” clearly some stoopid ass man thought of this (sorry for any hombres in the audience but seriously after 17 hours of travel the last thing I’m thinking about is going straight to the office how about an actual shower, dirty ass bastards!!!!!

And before I forget why were there no washclothes in my room and why didn't anyone know what I was talking about when I asked for one at the front desk.

Oh yeah and happy new year folks!!

Back when the Best Friend was preggers with my Godson to be, I secretly hoped he would be born on my birthday. It wasn’t a selfish thought it was one of those I want to be an ultra exceptional God Mommy who shares her birthday with her special little guy…OK maybe it was selfish, whatever. Anywho it was what I wanted you know because me don’t wants little bundles. Trust my vicarious motherhood through the Best Friend and Wander has helped enough to pretty much scorch out any inkling of mom gene in me…believe it folks. Of course Fate/Mother Nature/Whatever Higher Power You Subscribe To decided it wasn’t meant to be. Instead my Godson was born 10 days after my birth making him a Libra (what kinda of jacked up sh*t…and who’s a Libra anyway no offense to the Libras in the house), I mean those Powers could have hooked me up with the same sign…bastards.

Now originally the Best Friend and Dapper Dan were having a bowling party at one of my favorite hang outs, North Bowl for the Godson but it was changed to an in the house party for the tots at Dapper Dan’s house…way low key…me likes. Well me likes besides the clean up that takes place after tons of little people run through a home all hopped up on Capri Suns and Candy. Kids are sadistic little something or others when they’re coming down off a sugar high…it is at this point I find the nearest parent and run for the hills.

When the good Lord passed out the mothering gene’s I was getting an extra dose of snarky or something…I don’t know!

While setting up the Transformer Streamers and trying to stop the Godfather from molesting me in front of the few scattered children and my Godson’s Granny I started thinking about what I was doing when I was five. Yup I had a nostalgia moment. It could have been triggered by some rather depressing news I received Friday from the Male Nurse Friend or it could have been the party itself that sparked the memories but for what it’s worth here it is.

When I was five I was on top of the world, not literally but you’re sipping my kool-aid I know you are. I lived at the time in a northern Jersey suburb…a cul-de-sac nonetheless with grass as far as my eyes could see and that space was my world so it was only right to be the princess of the castle. The Little Brother was but 1 and hadn’t quite developed that bow-legged cowboy walk that was his signature for years to come. He later outgrew the bow legged stride without braces or breaking of bones suggested by those Nazis doctors. The Man Wander Married I think was on tour in Japan but I had sweet memories of him (God how time and age change things) whisking me into his arms with brown lunch bags full of shoe strings and mary janes and any type of candy you could think of.

Yup I remember those Cabbage Patch sheets with Rainbow Brite kitchen set days with a fondness. I recall them with an air of I could do anything with my lifeness and optimism that later became active cynicism. At five no one thinks about the sadness that sometimes happens in life. It’s a good thing. It’s actually a wonderful thing. I mean of course some folk have jacked up childhoods and they’re probably not as stress-free as my early adolescence. Of course what came later wasn’t all peaches and cream but I can say that those Rainbow Brite days were fantubulously great. And really it could be because without having an adult understanding of some situations makes life a little happier as a kid.

Take for instance that only about half the folk that should have showed for the party made an appearance. Do you think this fazed my Godson…not a chance he was stoked to see all his aunts, uncles, random cousins and open gifts. Now his parent’s totally different story in particular I believe Dapper Dan yelled at his sister and told her not to come since she was over 3hrs late for a party that was only slotted for 3 hours.

If you can add you realize Dapper Dan’s sister showed after the party was scheduled to end…of course she wasn’t the only offender…damn I hate colored folk time…with a serious passion.

Anywho back to the title of this here posting…to be five again would be nice and if I could go back there I would hug the Man Wander Married one last time because he was a true dad then and I would eat a brown lunch bag full of candy with reckless abandon for my teeth.

So blog friends, blog lurkers and my faithful blog readers what would you do if you were 5 again?

Well Operation Happy Hour ended on a sour note Friday. It started out pretty decent minus the semi argument the Best Friend tried to pull me into (hanging up doesn’t make me mad it makes me laugh…are you serious I thought we were adults). Ending my conference call early made the happy birds sing and gave me time to swing past the salon to get my eyebrows arched. Believe me I was all kinds of elated because the eyebrows were all types of werewolf, scary (blame it on the frequent flyer miles)!

On my way to the salon Juan (this would be my car) started this little stutter step motion and all of a sudden the check engine light began flashing. That is never a good sign. In between semi annoying text messages from both the Little Brother and Best Friend I called the dealership to schedule the 4th appointment this year for the car. Now I know what some of you are thinking 4th this year….seems like Juan might need to be taken out to pasture. Well guess what….not gonna happen because I plan on riding Juan until he can’t put out no more. Yep I am gonna work him harder than a gold digger during all star weekend.

Sadly the dealership couldn’t take the car until Monday. I saw a wonderrific weekend go down in flames. It was very sad not to mention I totally missed out on some swanky eats from the Alfa Bar, a cozy little spot where I imagined I’d feast on a goat cheese number and sip a little white wine sangria for my mentor, Dr. Diva’s birthday celebration. Clearly Juan had other plans in mind. All of which entailed keeping the apartment company all weekend long, oh so boring and nerve wrecking at the same time.

Luckily the Best Friend agreed to drive on Friday night to the Mission Grill but she’s such an early bird not to mention our late start caused us to miss Tall & Busty tend bar during happy hour. We made it home by 10PM, not exactly my idea of a night out. A cute guy kept giving me the eye but I wasn’t in one of those close the deal moods. I brushed him off and kept it moving.

Saturday was uninspiring, spent most of the day looking at the walls, besides spending a few hours with Granny SJ and Wander. Remind me never to allow Wander to drive me anywhere ever again. Trust this woman doesn’t know cars reach speeds higher than 30mph. My night ended on the couch answering text messages from randoms.

By Sunday I was somewhat annoyed with the whole car-less-ness of it all. And really I was probably wallowing in a vat of self pity because I could’ve easily called friends to get out and about but I didn’t want to. I wanted to fester in the despair of the car fiasco plus going out equaled spending dinero better served in my wallet in order to pay for the upcoming car repair.

It got so bad I even contemplated walking to the laundry mat just to break the confines…sad I know laundry is the absolute worst!

When one of my managers called insisting I help with some last minute deliverables…although aggravated I did it because well it wasn’t like I had somewhere to go. By 9PM I ended up watching the whole MTV Video Music Award stuff and was actually mildly entertained. Kanye West (don’t worry I have a stern letter prepared for him on Wednesday) needs a friend, I mean someone played Where’s Waldo with his hair which didn’t seem to cause him any concern and he made a total a$$ out buffoon of himself stealing Taylor Swift’s 15 minutes of fame. Beyonce, always the PR queen, made up for this by snatching 15 back for dear sweet Taylor at the end. Did anyone else notice B predicted her win? During the pre-show they asked her what award of the 9 she was up for did she most want to win and without any hesitation she said video of the year…low and behold she wins video of the year, conspiracy…I think yes.

Side note: Fly Eagles Fly….E A G L E S….Eagles!!!!! You can tell I was bored can’t you?

Hopefully this whole trip to the dealership doesn’t cost an arm and a leg….

May I start with saying that it was all types of great to see Model Friend! She looked the same, had the same gross so unladylike behavior (Including but not limited to her telling me she thought her pits were a little skanky. Why 90% of the male population finds her attractive baffling, I kid.) and it was fantabulous. Albeit very short lived given my two day jaunt in the sunny California weather but a nice treat between business meetings. She took me to a hella sweet Thai place where I ordered some flat noodle seafood vegetable contraption that I can’t pronounce, shrimp tempura and tasted some of her yellow curry chicken. Did I mention scrumptilicious! The leftovers we sent to her future husband for final consumption, he appreciated this

Great eats and great company make for a great night even with the slight jet-lag. Insert I’ve been on a lot of planes in the past few days right, this is rhetorical.

We hashed about He Who Must Not Be Named, evidently I forgot to tell her all the dramaticals. I tire of telling the tale. Anywho I spilled and she listened and then of course gave me the sistah girl oh no he didn’t face when I told her he called from the foreign number to get me to answer. As a true friend she did ask if I’m alright and I told her I’m fine, which is true it’s water under the bridge now.

And shocking news to her, not you faithful readers, that I’ve sorta been seeing Mailroom Boy. She gave me the side-eye for not telling her sooner.

Model Friend: Have you sexed him?
Me: Hell no! Just can’t picture it in real life. (No need to go into the dream sequence but as many have pointed out what happens in your subconscious is not indicative of what you want or desire to happen in the flesh.)
Model Friend: That’s a strong no…why can’t you go there?
Me: I don’t know.
Model Friend: Well you better figure it out soon because you already set the date kiss expectation and you know what that leads to.
Me: Maybe I should test it out right…
Model Friend: Uh yeah…NO!

We both laugh and change the topic. A little later I share a little morsel, part of the reason I presume why I can’t go there with him. Now underneath my killer drive to scale the corporate ladder, there is a part of me that wants the picket fence and what comes along with that little girl fantasy. But and it’s a big but Mailroom Boy already has half of that fantasy.

Let me explain. There’s something to be said, in my humble opinion and maybe this makes me slightly old fashioned, about sharing firsts with your husband, in particular buying a joint home, having children or hell even trivial stuff like sky diving, whatever. I don’t know I could be wrong I’ve never been married. Granted I don’t want children but as I told Model Friend I am completely willing to sacrifice that major lack of a want for a husband. And in that case if I were to go against my own grain I want my greatest sacrifice to be his first child, point blank period. On that I can make no concession. And because of this I may be very single for a very long time to come. In Mailroom Boy’s case he already has a 7 year old daughter, cute kid, not mine.

Model Friend says that I over-think everything. She asked why I was putting this much thought into one a guy when he’s probably not putting that much thought into me outside of do I like her don’t I like. I didn’t have an answer that night besides I thought she was right. On my wonderific (that is sarcasm) flight back to Philadelphia, the late night red eye from LAX I had time to really think about our conversation.

Seriously a lot of time to think considering the woman screaming behind me in Cambodian at her unruly children kicking my seat for 5+ hours not to mention I couldn’t even get a blanket because they were sold out. The flight attendants said something to her multiple times and her oldest son, he was seated across the aisle sort of translated. My assumption is she didn’t speak English at all but you don’t have to understand or speak English to know that at 1AM in the morning your kids should be sleep and you shouldn’t be yelling. You know putting your finger to your lips and mouthing shhhhhssshhh is universal, at least I thought so. Either way I could still hear and feel the commotion with iPod so I had a lot of time to think, my favorite pastime. Please excuse the digression.

It really wasn’t thought I was putting into Mailroom Boy per se as much as it was thought about what I want out of my life (Quarter-Life Crisis Anyone). True life isn’t an equation and love isn’t the X, to solve for. But at the end of the day I can’t be anyone but me, a person more driven by logical analysis than overrun by emotion. Minus two of course, I put my faith and emotions in two men in this young life. One of the two failed miserably shaping the Faith I am today. The other, Future Husband will be forever the one who got away and maybe because of that I am destined to see-saw through men who never quite meet the bar. Our lives, Future Husband and I, were in two very different places at the time and I wasn’t ready to share his path, end of story (sort of there’s a lot more but this post is already past my normal length). Settling just doesn’t seem like the appropriate option.

Anywho, Model Friend said that I need to accept my sidity, she may be on to something. My absolute number one pet peeve is lacking motivation. From what I know of Mailroom Boy he seems completely OK with his situation which I can’t stomach. And for him maybe it’s not a situation. I on the other hand see it very much as one. I asked him about his job and he told me that he took his current position because it’s easy and he can get away with doing whatever he wants which is normally nothing. Although recently he said he thinks he needs a career since turning 33 it’s about time. Interesting, but as Granny SJ says the proof is in the pudding. He is very unaggressive about his future, I don’t like that. I want someone who’s future oriented while I do live in the now I also plan for tomorrow. Someone with a similar theme is necessary or I will be a grumpy tomato.

OK I’ve already shared the child thing and how I feel about it so there’s no need to harp on the issues I see here. Not to mention that I don’t appreciate how he downs his daughter’s mother. As I’ve explained to him before his daughter’s mother is a reflection of him, he chose her. She didn’t impregnate herself, I make no concessions here and will not stand for the bad mouthing because I don’t know the woman and his side of the situation is just that, his side of the story. I asked him if she trapped him, he said no; well zip your lips then.

And this is just me being very sidity I know but it is what it is, I don’t want to be responsible for driving “us” everywhere or housing “us” if it’s late and we need somewhere to stay. I am not a teenager and don’t believe in the keep it quiet while my mom is sleep rule. Granted I have a roommate but at any moment I can kick my brother out and live alone, he doesn’t have that option since he lives in his Aunt’s home. You can’t make rules when it’s not yours. And I presume this wouldn’t bother me so much if he could at least pick me up. I drive for work I don’t want to have to drive for play all the time.

This also got under my skin on the night we went to the diner but I didn’t let it show because I don’t wave my money in anyone’s face (not that I have money because I feel the crunch of the recession like everyone else). When we’ve actually gone out in the past I’ve always offered to go dutch because I don’t want him to think I’m some gold digger, not that it would really apply in this situation. He’s never taken me up on my offer. Anywho our diner bill was a measly 14 bucks, I repeat 14 bucks…his card was declined. No no no! I’m not upset about paying the bill, I am curious about his financial responsibility though.

OK you guys can tell me how unreasonable and flakey and whatever I am being but at the end of the day I feel women seek men who make them feel secure. I feel not one ounce of security with Mailroom Boy. On a positive note, he’s sweet as pie, an absolute gentleman, can talk to him for hours without tiring and he makes me laugh…there’s something to be said for all of those things!

PS. The Little Brother said, “Damn dude need to get his shit right yah mean!”

Oh and he doesn’t like dogs….WTF?????

P.S.S I didn’t have to go to upstate Jersey today, I am all types of happy because Insomnia is back in full effect. Kick rocks Insomnia for real.

This weekend was way low key compared to the drama of last weekend.

After slapping the guilt on thick The Little Brother and Sister “convinced” me to go to Six Flags Great Adventures. I hadn’t been in years and honestly there was no thrill in me to go again. I know I probably sound like a humbug (if this were Christmas) but I just had no desire to walk the crowded park, pay ridonkulous amounts of money for subpar food and wait in endless lines for a 5 second thrill. Even with that feeling welled in the pit of my stomach I threw on my best amusement park outfit, donned a half hearted smile and drove the distance.

I would like to thank Google Maps for getting me lost in some podunk town on the outskirts of Trenton. Luckily the Whatevertown Police provided much needed assistance and renewed my dampening faith in police officers in general (that would be the bright side). Even with being a half hour or so out of the way, credit no doubt to janky directions, again many thanks Google Maps, we landed at the park just 15-30 minutes after opening with empty Coke cans in hand.

If you bring Coke cans during the week you get a bogo (buy one get one free) which is all types of wonderiffic because those friggin tickets cost $55 bucks a pop for adults and $25 for tots.

Once inside The Little Brother, Sister and Roller Coaster Partner (The Little Sister’s friend) bee-lined it to the flash-pass line to see how much additional it would cost to avoid the endless lines at the coasters. After thinking it over deciding $33 bucks a piece to avoid lines wasn’t the best deal we headed into the park. Completely unexpected, I had a ball. We rode every coaster the park employed besides the ones that had taken a siesta for the day. Absolute favorite and the only one that got a scream out of me, El Toro…I do have a thing for all things Spanish.

Roller Coaster Partner swears while riding The Bull I said something like shut the f*ck up but honestly that doesn’t sound like me. Although I can’t take full responsibility for the words that come out of my mouth during fits of sheer fear. Sorry but I can’t.

We left the park close to quitting time tired but happy. On Saturday morning I woke early to take The Little Brother to treatment and take the Little Sister for her driving test. Fortunately for what’s left of my blood pressure and my sanity she passed. I couldn’t watch, too anxious as if I were sweaty palmed behind the wheel as some random person decided my driving fate. Somewhere in the back of the Little Sister’s mind she probably thinks this means she will have unfettered access to my car, it does not.

Later in the day I had plans with Mailroom Boy at the State Park. Unfortunately my stylist (as to be expected really) was beyond booked. To make a long story way short I didn’t leave the shop until 6:30PM which wouldn’t have been that bad if I didn’t actually want to go and see what the State Park bbq was talking about (that’s slang for see if the party was good, carry on). Not to mention Mailroom Boy is going to start to think I’m a bit of a flake as I continue to make and break dates with him. He said not to worry about it. After leaving the salon I headed back to my mom’s house to pick up my sister and speed racer over to the nail salon. By the time I got home it was close to 9:30PM and I hadn’t actually done anything remotely fun but I was damn drained. As I toyed with the idea of going out that night I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until Sunday morning.

Even with a 30pt handicap we demolished the other team and remain number one. OK we won the last two games of a three game series and this included them bringing a ringer. I bowled pretty poorly in all honesty thank goodness for teamwork. My mind was in too many places to fully concentrate on bowling. Mailroom Boy invited me out later than night to “celebrate” both our bowling victories which I initially accepted forgetting about my True Blood obsession. I called later that evening and cancelled. Are you seeing a pattern?

In any event I had a seriously scandalicious dream about Mailroom Boy….what is my subconscious trying to tell me? Although True Blood is rather sexually explicit so I like to think my mind was simply combining the last thing I saw with the last man I spoke with that night….are you buying that?

SMDH, do you see that dribble of juice left in those containers? (Granted the white cranberry juice probably wasn’t the best in hindsight but you get it I’m sure.) This picture depicts three of the six down to the last drop juice bottles left in my refrigerator. It was only right to show you what I am subjected to on an all too regular basis. Trust this is the norm and not an exception. By now I should just be used to this type of salute yet every time I see it tiny anger monkeys hop up and down on my shoulders.

Don’t be fooled this practice extends to other items in the house as well including cereal (both hot and cold), mouthwash pretty much anything that can be left to the last morsel chips or even the last drop….soap, whatever. And for this reason I must check everything. The checking is really what gets under my skin. It’s not that there’s no more or let me rephrase because clearly there’s something left it’s the fact that if said bottles or containers aren’t see thru I have no way of knowing until I go to pour myself some orange juice. And believe me at 7:00AM in the morning heading out the door to the office it’s just not the right time to surprise me with a squirt of OJ….seriously though now my whole f*cking morning is ruined.

Clearly the Little Brother has an issue with finishing anything…why I don’t know he also has an issue with closing the shower curtain after he’s done, go figure.

Ugh, this is why I don’t like roommates, sometimes. In general living with The Little Brother works well. He is around when I need him to lug my heavy arse laundry bag down the stairs. Most times he remembers to do his chores without nagging a friendly reminder and he even takes out the trash on cue. We don’t fight over trivial bs mainly because I don’t do confrontations. It’s just not my way. He understands my moods well enough to know when something has rubbed me wrong and most times he adjusts without having to go there. Believe me I hate having to go there. It’s happened once or twice and it wasn’t pretty.

The last time I had to go there involved the taking back of his car key….not pretty!

His perks outweigh mine though. He gets full use of my car without the decency of ever filling it up with gas or paying for general maintenance which also includes washing or vacuuming. He lives in a fantabulous apartment minus the ghetto that exists around us that he can’t afford. Totally heart my apartment, totally hate the neighborhood….if I had it to do over, or if I had the time to actually devote to looking I would move. But this is a story for another time. I exist as a 24hr bank account that never gets deposits just withdrawals but by no means bounces or says insufficient funds. And on some days I even have the privilege of selecting outfits for him to wear on dates with chicks using my car and 9 times out of 10 on my dime.

Clearly I am getting the short end of this here stick. Not to mention the damn boy can’t remember not to soak my friggin bathroom rug. Bathroom mats serve dual purposes, decoration and excess water catchers. The key word in that sentence was excess, it is not a towel and should at no time be soaking wet. Stepping on sloshy damp rug barefoot ain’t fun and will turn Faith into mean Faith instantaneously.

Sometimes I consider this my cross. Everyone must carry one to make it to the promise land. Of course The Little Brother does cart me back and forth to work (on the days I go to the office) with very little lip. But he should given his many many many privileges. In some ways I guess that makes me a touch spoiled and maybe I shouldn’t rant about him.


Side note: So why did I wake up hot with no electricity…..I will blog more later and now I am calling the Spaniard to take me home…this can’t end well. Oh and Fellow Traveler discovered my work secret…mum is the word!

OK OK I know I was supposed to give an update after the infamous lunch and I will but let’s do the weekend update first.

This was the first weekend in the past four that I didn’t make plans with Mailroom Boy. Not because I didn’t want to hang out with him but because he already had something planned, the boys were taking an all jock strap trip to Great Adventures. He did make up for this by asking if I wanted to go to the Mets game next Sunday. This will interfere with the bowling league however exceptions can be made.

If the Gnome from work wasn’t home bound due to a rather narsty cyst in her spine she’d be happy to hear that I am getting to know Mailroom Boy very well. Did I mention I met his daughter, very cute as kids go....


Most Friday nights I hang with Nurse and The Best Friend but Nurse Friend was still in Orlando on vacation with family and I didn’t feel much like running the streets anyway. I settled in for a relaxing night of sleep. Did I forget to mention that I’ve been plagued by insomnia lately. Luckily the sleep gods had me in queue because I was able to get some much needed rest. I’ve been running on pure adrenaline lately with client work dominating most of my waking hours not to mention issues with the Spaniard. I will talk about this in a later post.

Oh wait I failed to mention this 21 Jump Street update, no don’t be alarmed he’s not back on the island. Scrolling down my Facebook home page I notice this gem, “....Last time I started to fall for somebody they hit me with some b.s. at the last min.... A message to myself..."KEEP IT PIMPING” Am I so vain I probably think this FB status is about me? Could be wrong thinking I matter that much. I would also like to arrogantly point out his total lack of proper grammar. Hello it should read, Last time I started to fall for somebody she hit me with some bullshit. Yes I know it’s trivial but I can be petty and this kind of took me by surprise. By now, considering his situation I would assume I was out of his system. Again this could be me just being vain.

On a side note, does anyone else notice the truly personal nuggets people reveal on FB in their status. True some folks just post funny little tweet like messages but a lot of people reveal their inner workings.

Anywho Saturday turned into the day from hell. Granted I was well rested after turning in early on Friday night I was saddled with herding The Little Brother to the ER. Yes my last experience with the HUP ER wasn’t good when Male Nurse Friend was sick but this time I anticipated a speedy room assignment given my brothers health conditions. No such luck folks. After being there nearly 6 hrs he still wasn’t roomed yet. Final diagnosis, possible blood infection and he remains hospitalized at this time.

One my way home from the hospital while driving on the windiest street in Philadelphia, Lincoln Drive, at close to 3AM in the morning, why in God’s good name were there two random podunk bikers pedaling away. Not to mention there is no might I repeat no bike path on the Drive let alone barely enough room for two cars to safely navigate these freaks were just pissing along like no one’s business. In addition when I honked my horn to signal they might want to get out of the damn way before becoming one with the gravel they just stop all deer caught in the headlights-esque.

WTF stupid arse stoners!!!

Once I got home I wasn’t able to get to sleep. No big surprise there, no sleep is becoming my best friend. I dicked around in the eerie silent apartment, it was very barren without my brother’s ridonkulous outbursts during the night. It was pretty much the same routine for Sunday. The Spaniard offered to come with while visiting the Little Brother in the hospital. Since we are not together but together I told him that it wasn’t appropriate for him to meet and greet my familia during such a time. True a copout but we aren’t together. I followed Sunday night up with yet another round of Faith vs. The No Sleep Bandit. Again I lost the opening round. I did however get to sleep around 4:30ish only to wake to a blaring alarm at 5:45AM.

I wonder how tonight will play out.

Friday started with a bang, and by bang I mean Philadelphia’s Finest slamming the back passenger side door of my car in utter dissatisfaction at the fact that The Little Brother wasn’t carrying any weapons. They, the police that is, were waiting outside of my apartment building I presume looking for a black male 4’0” to 7’0” aged 20-50 due to some unknown crime in the city. At the same time The Little Brother, Sister and I left my building on our way to my cousin’s 25th birthday party (odd it turned out to be a good time even though my cousin was over 1 1/2hrs late for her own event- colored people time in a major way ugh)....

Shortly after coasting through the stop sign at the end of my block, because I didn’t realize the Fuzz was in luke warm pursuit, my mirrors were flooded with the swirling red and blues. Instinctively I clicked my seatbelt in place and motioned for The Little Sister to do the same. No sense in adding an additional click it or ticket violation. As I began rolling my window down ready to address Dickhead Officer Number 1 I noticed he was violently trying to open my driver side back door. Dickhead Officer Number 2 stood ready directly behind Number 1 with his hand every so nicely on his 45. Even with DON 1 going barnyard mad on my back door I refused to unlock. And since he still hadn’t even addressed me as the driver I didn’t feel the need to aid his struggle.

Honestly it was more of a WTF moment than anything else watching DON 1 attempting futilely to open a locked car door.

After a minute of watching DON 1 fight the door handle, the Little Brother opened the door only to be patted down common criminal style.

DON 1: What do you have on you? (Continues to pat down everything minus the family jewels)
The Little Brother: Nothing but my cell phone, wallet and keys.
DON1: What is that a vest you wearing (Might I add a very nice fashion not bullet proof vest I selected from Urban Outfitters)? You got any weapons on you? What are you fiddling with in your hand? (Shining the fluorescent flashlight throughout the entire car)
The Little Brother: I just told you nothing. I don’t have anything on me but my cell phone, wallet and keys.
DON1: (Turns to me in the driver seat after realizing my brother only had a cell phone, wallet and keys) You should really think about getting your right tail light replaced.
Me: Uh-huh (No need for common courtesy at this point)
DON1: The right side light in the back is out, get it fixed.
Me: I heard you

Driving while black can be so frustrating!

On a brighter note, the Chrisette Michelle concert was fantabulous! Impressive vocals and entertaining company made for a good night and almost cleansed my mind of the utter ridonkulousness of the prior. The un-shining star, Mailroom Boy was an hour and a half late to pick me up. Since I know he is notoriously late I didn’t get ready on time. As fate may have it his lateness proved golden since the show started two hours late. Clearly the concert gods had my back.

This is one of the main reasons I could never actually date Mailroom Boy. I would literally rip his face off if he was that tardy for anything that I planned. Ok maybe not literally but you get where I’m going with that.

I won gold stars with his friends and was even invited to the bbq the following weekend. This isn’t surprising to me, I rock at first impressions! His friends are entertaining so if he extended the offer I would consider.

After the concert we lounged in a private room of the Foundation club which dripped of Bollywood décor. At any moment I thought belly dancers would dash in and begin performing on the tables. Did I forget to mention the wooden carvings of the Kama sutra on the wall? I imagine some interesting happenings taking place in this private room with oversized pillows and plush couches.

By the time I made it home it was close to 4AM. Sunday was game day (NBA Finals) and I invited The Best and Nurse Friend down for the festivities, mainly watching Dwight Howard in all of his chocolate-ness. Minus the Godson jumping on my last nerve, The Spaniard ditching to play soccer and the Best Friend locking her keys in the car a good time was had by all.

Oh did you notice how The Spaniard wasn’t involved in any of my post work plans. That’s happening more and more lately….

Peoples I’m back…not really back in the sense I will have a post a day but I am back into the whole blog thing with some new energy. Since it’s been awhile I will give you a blow by blow of what’s been up with me. For the last month and half; work vs Faith and work won the first couple of battles but I know I will prevail in the war. At the end of the day that’s all that matters. Model Friend moved to the left coast. I cried. She took photos to hold over my head….well she only caught a tear on my cheek because I hid my face beneath my hands. Yes I am that immature.. Mailroom Boy seems to have gotten the not so subtle hints that I am not interested in his schlong. It works out well for me because I hate uncomfortable conversations about how you’re a nice guy but I just can’t envision doing the freaky sneaky with you. He’s still a cutie but it starts and ends there. He also made a sideways comment that all black women have attitudes and for a second I almost got offended but I thought about it briefly and said to myself, Faith he isn’t worth the thoughtful argument you have pre-saved in your memory banks. On the down side, I think that means no Chrisette Michelle concert for me.

It’s better this way because well I am in a relationship (I hate this word even more than the word commitment and boyfriend).

And since you brought up the relationship why don’t I just talk about it a little. The Spaniard is good I guess. If you talk to him let me know. As I said work won most of the recent battles and I just haven’t had time for him. Being the corporate ladder climbing monster that I am could be my undoing and partly why I may never get married, he just comes second or third or well point being he isn’t first. I have trouble allowing a man to be my sole source of motivation or concentration. I see how many a woman I know turned out because of this and the cons clearly outweigh the pros. Men exist as a side dish but never the main course.

One day this might change but I don’t see it happening until I make a six figure salary. My goal is before I hit 32 (age adjusted from 30 due to the current recession). Due in large part to the downturn I don’t anticipate a raise because a raise when half the working public is getting laid off is downright irresponsible.

So I went off on a little tangent. Anywho over the summer I elected or better was selected by The Little Sister, to continue her driving lessons. Word to the wise and a ginormous note to self buckle up and pray I make it out alive. Just the other day she nearly killed me in the middle of an intersection. (Might have been a rookie mistake, maybe I suck as an instructor, but whatever the reason it made the heart flutter) Of course she claims her foot hovered ever so nicely above the brake but with the car picking up speed toward an obvious red light I tend to think not. She insists she was simply inching to see the oncoming traffic….no need to inch when the light is clearly red and you aren’t making a turn. Side note I will avoid getting my blood pressure taken until the end of this because I’m sure I’m in the higher levels due in large part to outright fear. The Little Brother turned ghost-face white the other day when I allowed her to drive to the laundry mat and unfortunately for him I don’t know CPR (bad Faith I know I am putting myself on punishment- I wonder if the Y teaches this?) so he might want to stay clear of the car when the Little Sister takes the wheel again.

He mentioned later his life flashing before his eyes but you know how he exaggerates.

And through all of this Dapper Dan continues to haunt/stalk The Best Friend. One of these days she will give up and concede due to pure and utter exhaustion. Personally deep down inside I think the Best Friend enjoys this sick twisted on again/off again game they play with each other. I on the other hand tire of hearing about it but I won’t let her in on that little secret. Blog Friends keep it on the DL (down low for those out of the know).

Nurse Friend kicked Designer Jeans into the wind and has moved on to greener pastures. And when I say greener pastures I do mean greener. No smoke screen, the newbie seems nice. I won’t give him a name just yet because he is too new. If he lasts the month I will give a better update. Wander is as Wander does; still shooting the shit with the man she married.

As an aside I noticed something rather odd about NYC chicas (I’m on assignment in the big apple)…why do they wear get em girl pumps in the subway. I do say I prefer the laidbackedness (you know that’s not a word) of my fellow Philadelphians who stick the uck me pumps in the bag/purse/laptop carrier and rock the sneakers for the walking the streets of it all. IDK (ooh there I go again with that text talking) it’s just a thought!

So I caved…..but it was calculated and intentional. 21 Jump Street (because he’s a p***y) texted me and said we needed to talk. My only assumption he’s so vain he probably thinks that Facebook message was about him, and it was so I guess he was right.

Anywho he texts and says he thinks we need to clear the air, get things out on the table and just discuss “us.” When did an “us” develop, I must have been watching commercials or something. My gut reaction was to let it slide, ignore the text message and move far far away from the past. But the idea of not confronting him bubbled in my stomach totally nauseating and I thought I’d probably earl if I didn’t say something (that was a ridonkulously gross analogy I’m just saying).

When he said let’s go to a relatively swanky restaurant on the main line I couldn’t very well pass up the opportunity to make his pocket’s bleed. I figured a five course meal is a great parting gift considering his lying ways. The Best Friend said that she was proud and overjoyed I never played naked twister with him but I know that was her perverted way of saying she’s glad he didn’t really get behind the walls and hurt me.

At least this is what I think she meant because sometimes she is just talking about sex, hey to know her is to love her, digressing!

He showed up exactly six and one half minutes later than his expected time which was a touch irritating because he’d already pushed back our pre-arranged meeting time due to “making a run.” Everyone knows I don’t operate on colored people time, it pisses me off. If he was picking me up this probably would have gone a lot worse since I hate waiting idly for someone dressed and ready but nowhere to go. Luckily Nurse Friend allowed me to talk her ear off while I waited and watched the valet drive people’s fantuboulsy expensive cars.

Avoiding the pick me up drop me off thing was a good call on my part besides that’s too date-like and then there would be some awkwardness at drop off, do we hug it out like old friends do I slam the door and just run up the stairs, far too many possibilities! Considering this was a drain his wallet and tell him about himself mission there was no reason to facade this up with dating actions. Besides if it turned narsty riding with him home wouldn’t be an option. Although he’s not the CB (Chris Brown) type or is he, obviously I don’t know him as well as I thought hence this whole “discuss us” rendezvous.

In any event we were seated rather quickly (it must be the recession being able to get a table on a Friday with no problems). At first conversation stalled. I didn’t really want to be there and I was under the table texting The Spaniard, so wrong but such as life!

Mid way through dinner it became obvious that 21 was never gonna address the “us” he referred to in the text nor the wool he attempted to pull over my eyes so again it appeared I had to lead the horse to water with a few prodding questions. The most important being how his grandmother was doing. He said that she’s ok and asks about me all the time. Moms and Grandmas totally heart me except one but that might have something to do with a certain living room table situation whatever! I proceeded to ask if he was staying in her house since moving her to the home to which he got a little defensive and said something like he told me this before that he’s living with a “friend.”

And by friend you mean girlfriend, right?

No not it’s not like that….I mean when we moved in together we were just cool you know homies but after a bit things started happening and we starting kinda seeing each other for a minute. But now you know we not together like that no more but I can’t just break my lease you know what I’m saying.

Yeah I hear what you’re saying doesn’t mean I have to agree, like or be a part of it. I don’t think it’s possible for two people of the opposite sex to live together unless one is gay or they are related. You’re whole “situation kinda proves my point as you say you were “homies” before co-habbing and some way slipped into a relationship.

But it’s a three bedroom house we have our own floors.

What does that mean exactly…there are common areas I’m sure, so how does it work when one of you has company? Just knowing you I’m sure you don’t like walking into your living room seeing a half naked men chilling watching sports center?

You have a point but my apartment is great, I can’t see moving out besides we still cool even though we not together, and believe me I would never ever go there again with her.

Yeah….ok, whatever.

And that’s where we left that, never really discussed the “us” because there is no us. The Little Brother said never burn bridges so I guess me and 21 are still semi friends but his attempted resurrection back into the possibly more than friends zone fell flat.

Jump Street did text me to see if we could hang out this weekend but the Spaniard filled his place…..oh oh oh muy caliente!!!

Last Thursday I received a frantic call from the Little Brother screaming bloody murder. Normally when this happens I ignore it because while my brother is very manly macho protect and serve kinda of guy he suffers from melodramaticitis. (He also bakes dinner rolls but I am digressing.) I blame this complex on surrounding himself most times by equally melodramatical women. He was the only cock in a den of hens growing up….oh wait I am forgetting the man Wander married, pish tosh!

Faith, are you listening to me? I was raped!

Now under normal circumstances hearing something like this would well up a bunch of emotional monkeys however, knowing the back story makes this hilarious. For some reason my brother’s doctor must be the most popular testicle touching crotch coddler in Philadelphia because no one leaves his office in under four hours. If someone left in less than four hours it would more than likely simultaneously rain Skittles, since as fair as I know this is relatively uncommon the same goes for leaving TV Doc’s office in a timely fashion.

Anywho due to the extreme waiting period my brother simply picked up and walked out of his appointment the week before last for fear of getting ticketed by the vicious PPA (Philadelphia Parking Authority), or the Sheriffs of Parking (they like to think). Me, I consider them the adult equivalent of high school hall monitors, bastardized rejected annoying whiny kids no one liked who gave out detentions for being caught roaming the halls. Digressing I know! In any event my brother received a harassing friendly reminder call from Granny Aunt (she works for TV Doc) to reschedule the appointment because The Little Brother has conveniently dodged appointments for the past three years.

Fast forward to this past Thursday, the Little Brother is the first on the doctor’s list of victims. My bro already geared himself up for having his testes teased (very important exam per Nurse Friend. Docs need to make sure the gents don’t have the cancer of the dingle berries or possible hernias) but he wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

Please lay on your side and bring your knees up to your chest.

Honestly it seems like a relatively easy non invasive request if you ask me, nothing like please open your legs, scoot to the end of this table and put your feet in the medieval-ish metal stirrups. Wait this time it isn’t about me. The Little Brother says he thought he knew what was about to happen but he didn’t want to believe. I mean TV Doc didn’t even give much warning, my brother just heard the slap of plastic gloves against skin and suddenly an insertion feeling.

VIOLATION, do not pass Go, Do Not Collect $200, but at least he lubed up before plowing it home!

There was no verbal communication during the backside exam, no need for pleasantries whilst your index and pointer finger peruse the inside of my anus. Personally doctor’s attempts at soothing conversation while “inspecting” the downtown bonanza never put me at ease, in actuality it makes me tense up even more and I presume when the doc’s finger’s up your rear the last thing he wants you to do is clench your cheeks.

I am only speculating here.

After it was done my brother said he felt cheap, the doc didn’t even leave a twenty on the counter and say go ahead clean yourself up like in the trick movies. The Little Brother quickly dressed and shot out of the doctor’s office thinking it will be another three years before he does that to me again.

I think he deserves a card folks!


Men are such babies, LMAO!!!!!

On my way home from work driving with the Little Brother I swerved to avoid a dead animal in the road. First brain thought wow that really looks like it hurt, poor little racoon.

Out of no where my bro screams, "What the hell was that....a monkey?" It took all of me to keep from running into the tail end of some suburbanite's SUV.

I turned and said, "What the hell are you thinking about we don't live in Zimbawe. Why would a dead animal in the road trigger thoughts of chimps?" Folks sometimes I just don't know about him. One might incorrectly assume that he's smoking dope but no that's The Little Brother 100% sober.

Not completely sure why he went all Hakuna Matata on me but I should be used to it by now. When he has these dunce cap moments trying to reason with him is out of the question. Take for instance the time I told him about reading that Taco Bell didn't use real beef.

To this he responded,"I know that's why I eat the steak." WTF????? If you know where he was going with that can you leave a comment and explain it to me. Sometimes when he makes little funnies I think it's intentional until I look at him and he's staring back like what's the problem. He doesn't realize that makes whatever he said funnier.

Not too long ago he told me that movie soundtracks don't include the music played during the movie. I attempted to explain the concept of a movie soundtrack but it didn't seem to make a difference. And think he's someone trusted to count medication and fill prescriptions. It boggles the mind.