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!

Chello bloggers and blog-ettes I’m back with a little ditty I like to call the Week in Review.

When last we spoke I was battling Hurricane Spaniard. A surly storm that arrived on my shores a few months shy of two years ago. Sad as I am to say it burdens me still. As soon as I think I’ve out maneuvered the storm it loops the corner and hails all over my parade. In this case the Summer O’ Men…causing it to end just as abruptly as it started.

I agreed to have lunch with the Spaniard. After Wander made the waterworks the other week I felt I owed him and largely myself to put whatever we have to bed. Well much like fighting a pre-pubescent boy to shower and a toddler to sleep resolving our hashish wasn’t getting done over one lunch. We met at this quaint French spot that sells the most amazing crepes on 6th and Bainbridge. I can’t remember the name but it matters not.

Over a few savory and sweet crepes we discussed the relationship. A lot of our problems revolve around communication. In addition to him thinking I know exactly what’s going on in his head he has an issue with apologizing. Stubborn much! And granted I’m probably the most arrogant, unapologetically sarcastic person one will ever meet but for folks close to my heart I push those character flaws to the side, most of the time. I recounted the late for the train station incident where I got my ass chewed out by a banshee aka Spaz Manager. And still he didn’t offer an apology. Just coughed up an excuse, he confused the times. If assault weren’t against the law I would have hit him with my glass of water. He’s an asshole, sometimes! We parted ways that day with a hug and peck on the cheek.

Side note: When this man touches me I feel electricity run through my core…this cannot be a good thing.

Since we weren’t together I didn’t expect a gift for my birthday. Actually we’ve been conveniently unattached when my birthday rolls around. In any event I spent the early part of the day with Wander, Pudding Pop and Granny SJ. In the evening Wander took me shopping and I headed home relatively early, 10ish. Around 12 I get a text message from The Spaniard asking me to come downstairs. My first mind said to go downstairs and see what he wants but my second mind said total bad idea. Of course my first mind won this battle and I took the trip down the interior stairs of my apartment and was greeted by 5 or more bouquets of flowers, mostly lilies. Sometimes he’s not an asshole!

I was proud of myself that night because despite raging hormones amongst other things I kept my resolve and sent him on his way with nothing more than a Spank You kindly and a peck on the cheek….ok the lips but you get the point. I left most of the flowers on the doorstep. What was I going to do with 5 bouquets of flowers in my apartment?

After sharing the birthday flowers story with some of my close friends they were all somewhat surprised I didn’t give in. And The Best Friend, always a Spaniard supported was her usual self and told me I was dumb for not blurring the boundaries and taking a short ride on the ho train. Of course sex does not love make, so sometimes her advice is to be taken with a grain of salt.

But I digress.

Pretty Skin faded to the land of obscurity, also known as Never-Never land. By no fault of his own, well maybe a little, but with work and my see-saw appetite for The Spaniard I didn’t have the stomach to digest anymore of PS’ references to me as a man or his otherwise lack of genuine communication skills. I’m sorry I just can’t. Believe me there was no judgment here, I thought and still think some chiquitta will be hella happy to find and refine Pretty Skin. He’s a diamond in need of a little elbow grease.

PS did surface briefly this weekend. I quipped that I hadn’t been discarded to the do not call list. And his response was no but if you think it didn’t contain a man reference you’d be wrong. Ugh! Anywho I asked out of pure curiosity what he was up to this weekend. He responded that he had his daughter Saturday but would be free later in the evening. Clearly my conversation politeness was misconstrued. I told him that I had belated birthday plans with my cousin but I hope he enjoyed his weekend.

Was that rude of me?

Mailroom Boy to my utter surprise crawled from under his you got to be kidding me rock with a happy birthday salute. And believe it or not he was only about two days late despite having a phone reminder. His words not mine. Being late to everything but work is part of his je ne sais quoi…not. I was touched, don’t remember his birthday but that’s beside the point. Once I check out I check out, not that we had anything serious…please check the $14 incident that broke the camel’s back.

Since that time he’s been texting me on the regular. He even sideways mentioned that his daughter asked about me and she never asks about his friends. Hmm, I’m still not interested but am rather impressed that he’s getting his hashish together. Last we spoke Mailroom Boy was living in his aunt’s house, carless and working in the mailroom because it was easy. Now he’s taking classes to get his degree, driving his own car and living by himself. Not too shabby if I do say so myself.

Even Jon B. jumped back on stage for a small cameo in this show I call my life. I cancelled his performance before it could even start though. After the traditional how have you been what have you been up to chatter he asked if I ‘d like to come by on Sunday to “catch up.” Is that what the kool kids call it these days? Considering we’ve only known each other for roughly three months time and about a month of it we had no real communication I’m not sure we have any catching up to do. I mean in my book catching up is reserved for friends you’ve known for years but speak to infrequently because of schedules or proximity of course I could be wrong. Clearly his Kangol is too tight. I told him it was doubtful I’d be stopping by to “catch up.”

I’m seriously considering chucking up the deuces. I think Chris Breezy may have been onto something…all the bullshits for the birds…you judge it!

After Wander and The Little Brother left church I was given the privilege of driving both them and myself to Uncle Mid Life Crisis’ barbeque. I didn’t mind. The more time I spent away from my phone the more time I didn’t have to think about how I feel. If you haven’t pieced the puzzle together me and feelings are on opposite ends of the picture frame. Besides feelings are for the winter, technically I can avoid this for a few more weeks, can’t I?

As I sat in the car with Wander contemplating how one lives with a bruised ego and a broken heart she offered this morsel, “You don’t have to go through this alone. I know you love him. Men are assholes but I have a feeling you will work this out with my future son-in-law. If you need to talk I’m here. I don’t always want to hear about the good things”

Speechless! Does she have some sort of telepathy? It must be some innate mother gene that allows her to sense my discomfort. I couldn’t even verbalize how I felt to her. I hate crying but I couldn’t hold it anymore. Crying ain’t sezy. Luckily it wasn’t one of those snot nose cries instead just silent tears ruining my mascara. Afterwards I felt a little bit better but I didn’t get any answers besides my mom’s inside my heart and I likes it.

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…

If anyone wants to know I wasn’t in Vancouver this week. I was in Chi-town booyah!!!! (Hella swamped with work with no ability or time to blog properly and for that I’m sorry.) Well not exactly booyah because I didn’t see anything besides the hotel room, the hotel’s attempt at a sports bar and the client’s office. Yes it’s depressing I know Chi-town is actually quite the swell happening spot…maybe next time.

If anyone wants to know Wander called me last weekend sticking yet another thorn in this here quarter life crisis by saying something to the effect, I hope you don’t end up alone with a whole bunch of cats. I really want you to be able to love someone. Do you want to go with me to Lord & Taylor to buy some boots? Uh yeah I want some boots but can we address the first part of your statement before we run off on a shopping spree?

Wander these sideways comments must cease…I mean seriously, you think I don’t already stress enough about the future of Faith enough! Would she prefer I settle?

This comment while I know has good intention somewhere behind it, I hope, implies I’m incapable of loving someone. And by default will end up on a porch somewheres knitting with two cats on my lap. Way to show your Faith in me Wander.

Couple that comment with The Spaniard and his you’re such a guarded person BS and you have the makings of a quarter life nervous break-down minus the Lexapro (that’s not a stab at anyone who takes meds responsibly because for some folk it is very very very necessary and for others well it’s a substitute for dealing with life’s ups and downs…I am off the soapbox, feel free to disagree). OK not really a nervous break-down per se but y’all know I loves me some dramaticals ( I get it natural see Wander’s comments above.) because it makes for better story telling am I right? Come on now you can tell me.

Alrighty back to the point…did I actually have a point…not sure this post is a bit of a ramble. Anywho I pocketed Wander’s gem along with Spaniard's half a gem and went on with my week. My super packed work week that is with nothing more than the morning stretch and scratch to serve as me time, yet somehow I managed to fit in reading a couple articles out of Glamour.

In my world Glamour is a more adult version of Cosmopolitan, don’t argue just go with it.

In addition to reading Glamour I stole a second or two, alright I stole like five minutes to check my comments from the prior week and respond. My blogging faithfuls and you know who you are dropped some serious knowledge. Since, as far as I know none of you have syndicated shows let me be the first to say y’all are better than Oprah I Swear for Jesus Winfrey! In truth I respect your thoughts more so than some of the non blog folk I see in person…you know real world people I interact with not via computer…scary right!

If I may paraphrase and I can because this is my house and I live here…hey isn’t that a song (Diana Ross)…I am so random today…must be the Friday bug.

Cardio Girl said (in my CG voice): Sweep the leg, Betch, either you gotta shet or get off the pot! I kid I kid. She really said as you grow and learn more about this thing we call life your perspective is gonna change. And it’s OK if it changes; don’t beat yourself up about it.

Reforming Geek said: Howdy, divorce happens make a damn decision already…no no that’s not what she said. She said if the only thing holding you back from something you want is a little snafu maybe you should give it some more consideration.

La’Tonya said: Honey don’t apologize for wanting who you want when you want him but make sure you’re comfortable with him and he treats you with respect! You’re young have fun, drink beer and be merry. Ok I added that last part!

Glamour Magazine said: Don’t apologize for who you are! Be happy in your own skin, emote confidence, demand respect and do it in a killer outfit.

Oh I must not forget my girl Diva! Diva told me a long time ago to play hard but be prepared for the consequences!


So I’m off to find shoes to match this killer outfit…deuces!

Don’t let the happy title fool you; just kidding let the happy title fool you. While I didn’t get into any foolery this birthday thanks in large part to Juan who’s running quite nicely I might add I did have a pretty swell birthday.

It was way low key. My initial plans before Juan sucked up all my dinero were to go to NYC stay at the Marriott in Times Square, wake early on Friday morning and drag my still drunk/hung over friends to the Today show where I would parade my sign that said Happy 25th Birthday Faith… and in small print for the third time! Of course Al Roker couldn’t resist that sign and I would get my 1.5(not to be confused with 15) minutes of fame. It would be a cool thing to blog about as well, along with the whole shenanigans that took place in the city that never sleeps. It didn’t happen…there’s always next year.

Anywho the Best Friend tried to cheer me up by inviting me for a girls’ nite in (have you noticed a theme with her lately) at her place just a few of my chick friends and our love mates Vodka, Rum and Tequila. When I responded how depressing she said something like heifer I’m trying to help you out don’t get all uppity with me. Insert Nurse Friend who agreed that while we weren’t traveling to NYC we shouldn’t stay in tu casa. Clearly the Best Friend was out voted and we ended up at Ms. Tootsies eating soul food and listening to late 90’s and early 00’s hits.

Yes I is getting up there…90’s hits are actually considered oldies…when did this happen?

Ms. Tootsies, although kinda on the small side offered an ambiance I was with that night, real chill. I didn’t want to break all the rules and dance on tables, instead I wanted to sip libations, listen to subtle innuendo music and watch fantabulous folk decked in their weekend best. I put on a party dress and some get em girl pumps (not the original ones I wanted to wear they were off with the Little Brother and Juan writing rap songs God knows where) but enough of a heel to make me feel sexylicious.

Did I forget to mention that the bartender gave me a slice of chocolate cake special since I was the birthday girl…it was scrumptious and I thank him. Not to mention the free drinks…ah I heart birthdays!

And I guess feeling sexylicous showed because some random cop blew me a kiss. It was kinda odd and sweet/funny at the same time. Mr. Motorcycle drove down Nurse Friend’s car to give me his number so I guess that party dress and get em girl shoes were definitively working overtime. Not really into motorcycles but he is a serious cutie…will this be yet another pocketed number with no follow?

Oh and I must say thanks to Wander for spending Saturday with me. It was nice to get some face time with the Mombot. She seemed happier than usual….one wonders if the man she married has turned a leaf? She handed me a card from him along with a hearsay message that if I needed some help financially following Juan’s episode he was willing…interesting but no, I’d rather be broke.

When will he learn that money isn’t a substitution for dadhood.

On Sunday Nurse Friend and I came up with some new plans for New Years which involve Dapper Dan. Not sure how the Best Friend is going to take this news considering their on again/off again but mostly off again relationship. He’s still a DJ so we have to work the angles. Oh yes New Year’s party 2.0 is coming to a Westin near you…well not really near you unless you’re a Philly resident. And I promise I won’t get fumbling drunk this year….ok that’s half a promise!

Before I forget I want to say spank you very much to everyone who sent me e-mails FB messages, text messages wishing me a happy birthday. I felt all types of hearted and even shed a tear….I kid but I did feel all types of hearted.

Side note: I added music to the blog, is it annoying? Just wanna know peoples.

Unexpected advantage number one, I regained about 5 hrs on Saturday to do pretty much whatever I wanted. Unexpected advantage number two I no longer had to cart the Little Brother to and from his treatment every Saturday in order to make my appointment, this was a major plus. In particular because I allowed myself about 2 additional hours of sleep, however with the whole can you be in NYC on Friday (which really means drop everything and make it to NYC) I lost my standing Friday. Ms. Faith is not a happy grasshopper.

Side note I ended up riding the train with a rather handsome man from Wilmington. I have a thing for salt and pepper hair, shoot me. He was pleasant, of course married, the good ones always are. We talked about my job and his trips from Wilmington to NYC. Maybe I need to consider a move below the Mason Dixon to find a southern gentleman….although White Chocolate aka Traffic Court was southern…his drawl was sexy but my God issues…..excuse the non sequitur.

Hopefully this trip signifies the end of conference calls on Saturday and 12-14hr work days. Although being busy as a consultant is better than the beach (I hate the beach which in turn makes me cry for leaving claims sometimes…most times). God save me from the beach. So maybe I shouldn’t complain. (Let me de-consultantify that for you the beach means no client billable work instead you’re stuck endlessly in presentation creation and research (I might as well poke my eyeballs out with a jagged piece of glass)….it is not the grand vacation it implies by its name.)

Anywho, the train ride allowed me time to think (in between convo with Salt & Pepper). I have been in a bit of a funk lately. Maybe the change of scenery will lighten my mood. In a prior post I revealed that I date the same man in a different body. And it’s true. Everyone I’ve taken semi seriously (or as serious as I am capable of doing given my commitment issues) has been the same, Selfish, in his own way but selfish none the less!

Yup I narrowed it down, gold stars and a cartwheel for me (not really)! As I strove in all things to date someone who embodied everything The Man Wander Married didn’t I end up with the number one trait of his I hate, minus his drinking. Even Future Husband was selfish. Right down to the last morsel of the relationship it had to be about him (I’ll tell that story another day…maybe)

They say daughters marry their fathers….God I hope not I don’t think my sanity or heart could take it!

Side note: Sorry to end seemingly somber, I am not. With this realization I am given new energy, the rest of the summer should be interesting!

Read more!

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!

On Thursday The Spaniard “lost” his cell phone in my apartment. Instead of being late for his noon appointment he dashed out and left me to do the all out bed/ living room search. (He was late anyway this just gave him an excuse someone would actually empathize with as opposed to the truth!) After breaking a sweat, flipping my mattress and tossing the bedding to the floor in a mode of complete fluster I remembered the one place it could be, in my top drawer. Probably slid down when I opened it to grab…. Being the creature of habit that he is, he always leaves his keys, wallet and phone on my dresser near the TV so why I didn’t think to look there first is beyond me but maybe the destroy your bedroom in violent fury gods were plotting against me.

In any event I had his phone for a couple of unattended hours. As I positioned myself to unlock the keypad and read his personal messages I thought about a post I’d written a couple of weeks back about the Best Friend hitting the freaking roof after Dapper Dan let his fingers do the walking and his eyes do the reading. I hate it when my immature self takes hold of my body. It reminded me that I am no snoop. Although the grinning 10 new text and 5 new voice messages enticed me, I held to principle.

Damn that maturity sure does know how to stick it in and pull it out!

By nature I am not jealous so the craving to look in his phone has nothing to do with the fact that The Spaniard remains chatty cathy friends with an ex who proposed to him. Ok well maybe a little but I wouldn’t call it jealousy as much as calculated concern. Of course by nature I am nosy so I felt the best way to cure this divided sense of temptation and principle was to swiftly drive his portable things sacred to him before I got the best of myself. It was a good plan besides how would I feel if he unintentionally intentionally perused my cell. Besides calling him some choice names which I won’t write because they are R rated he’d also receive his walking papers. No if ands or buts about it because privacy and trust are two things I take very seriously.

Not that I have things to hide besides a few blog posts written in transit, The Spaniard isn’t privy to the blog it’s really for his own good. And probably a couple choice photos of ex tools that I just can’t bring myself to delete. In particular of Vanilla Cocoa, that man is gifted and we had some pillow biting times….digressing.

Anywho the point to this post is that I made my decision. If you remember I was very much torn over the last month or so. Teetering between staying with or dumping The Spaniard with the possibility of dating Mailroom Boy but sometimes mountains of work, a mini tiff and make-up nooky open communication puts it all in perspective for you.

The Best Friend was right….if someone has the ability to make you upset you probably care. Oh it sounds so hokey and corny but at the end of the day it’s true. And so The Spaniard and I survived the first spat and I am giving it a serious go. That’s progress…for me former Faith would have sent him packing with three strikes and not thought twice about it. I think I am gold star deserving this month.

Now to breaking the we’re just friends I see you like my brother conversation with Mailroom Boy…wish me luck folks.




In other news, Wander asked that I post that American Idol sucks major a$$. Not sure why she's riled up but I hear the underdog took it and others fans of the played out show are up in arms as well. It's good to know Wander is in good company. Since she doesn't comment and hasn't been reading lately, I will just say you're welcome mommy!