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!
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?
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!
Last night braving the bitter biting cold The Little Sister and I went out on a covert mission to wrangle up some additional Christmas presents. Sneak peak I believe she just might have purchased this acid washed (I am a child of the 80's folks get over it) pinkish purple hoodie from American Apparel. Already in my mind I have an outfit picked out but that's beside the point.
We decided to grab dinner on the run so I stopped at Qdoba for burritos. Yummy Mexican! When I got back in the car she was busy chit chatting with an old friend from high school who will forever be known as Power Puff, such a sprite like little pixie who I remember fondly. It could be the pink hair. I was sure to tell the Little Sister to say Hola for me. Yes I speak Spanglish.
When the telephone convo came to a close I asked my sister if she still keeps in touch with another girl from high school. The Little Sister responded that no for some reason they just fell out of touch. It happens.
That started me thinking and her talking about how much things or people have changed since high school. Much of what she said sounded like blah blah blah yada blah yada but when I did tune in she said that they fell out of friendship.
Can one really fall out of a friendship? Falling seems so hap-hazard to me. Personally I think we grow out of friendships. If I think back to high school there were so many people who I considered (in teenager-ese) BFFs. (Side note can you believe I'm coming up on my 10 year reunion, God I need to rope in that doctor, there's high school do nothings to one up and former bitches to impress-this stems from going to an all girls school...ugh the competition lives on.) I've longed since deleted their numbers from my phone so I guess the card attached wouldn't say thank you for being a friend.
Which leads me to the other point while in high school to imagine my life without these folks seemed impossible, yet now I can't even envision having a full blown conversation with them. Odd, maybe it's me, that is a rhetorical question/statement. Consider I was once a third of a trio, one moved to a separate section of the small/large city and we never really spoke much afterwards and the other, our families still live across the street from one another, our brothers are good friends but the most we do is pass friendly hi's or awkward conversations about how we should hang out.
But why would we hang out now? We have nothing in common. We don't like the same things anymore or more accurately I have no idea if we like the same things because once we graduated from high school the conversations died. By the time we reached college our circles never converged and attempting to rekindle what was once believe it or not is quite painful. It's almost as uncomfortable as waking up partially nude next to a close friend attempting to recover memories from the night before. There's forever a purple elephant in the room yet there was never a formal itch I don't like you so don't even talk to me conversation, so odd!
I guess I will label those persons seasonal friends. Take for instance a former friend who stopped talking to me over a disagreement she had with the Best Friend. Me, being the person I am erring on the side of caution and wanting to stay as neutral as Switzerland kept my distance from the situation. OK so it involved some vomit and drunkassness but hey I never vomited on her comforter. Damn, I mean it was college can one truly be blamed for not knowing her limit? You have to get drunk off your bum the first time before you know for sure that the brown is a doozy!
Oh well I guess the old adage is so very true, people are in your life for a reason or a season. I would like to think the friends I have now (I'm out of that discover myself stage) are reasoned friends and that our relationships will stick it out for the duration. Honestly only time will tell.
