Saturday, July 29, 2006

Just a P.S. to the Post Below

I forgot one!!!

"I be schoolin' these young bitches my nigga. My bitches go ta class like niggas be goin' ta werk bruh. An' bitches ain't dismissed 'til I rang dey bell."

Living in Texas is gonna kill me.

I Wish a Muthaf*cka Would...

God bless Texas. These niggas are crazy. I have heard and seen some of the WILDEST SHIT since I got here. Old slang I haven't heard anyone use, indigenious slang I haven't heard anyone use, and just plain ol' coonery and nonesense. The highlights:

~ the girl I drove past on 45 eating... tape. Off a roll. TAPE!!!!! Like the industrial kind. TAPE PEOPLE?!?!

~ the big kuntry cow tippin' white boy in the big Ford pickup with the Confederate flag in the back...bumping Pimp C

~ the cow tippin' league. Coonery!

~ the complete lack of zoning in Houston. I.e. the big beautiful white and blue house sitting on a couple acres of immaculate land... next to the train station... next to the pasture filled with horses... next to the projects. What kinda pjs have you heard of where you can look out your window and see HORSES?!?! Tom foolery!

~ the dude who approached me and said, "Gul you fina then all outdoze" (Translation: Girl you're finer than all outdoors.)

~ "You aint from 'round these here parts is ya?" (because I stated publicly that I didn't like Bush. They're coming to stone me later.)

~ "Yo that shit was dumb fresh dude!!!" a kuntry ass guy trying to sound like a NY dude

~ "Girl if you were a steak I'd eat every ounce of you." Yep. Just creepy.

~ "I'm finna go..." Me after exactly 2.73 hours of being here

~ the latina girl who said "I wish a muthafucka would..." at least once every 1.43 minutes.

WHEN'S THE LAST TIME YOU HEARD "I WISH A MUTHAFUCKA WOULD..."?!?! LOL! I forgot how great that phrase was in high school! I haven't said that in years! My personal favorite was, "I wish a muthafucka would jump stupid up in this bitch." (Translation: I wish someone would start a fight in here.) I was the WORST. Hahahahaha I dunno how anyone stayed my friend through my ghetto-ocity in high school (and middle school. And freshman year of college. And second semester of senior year). And being down here has just reminded me of how COUNTRY I must have sounded when I first got to DC. HA! I called a friend of mine from Howard the other day and about 2 minutes into the conversation he stops me and says, "La. Wait. I dunno what the hell you're saying." Ahh the accent I worked so hard to lose is back.

And did I mention everything is bigger in Texas? And by everything... I mean the drinks!!! Thank every God known to man for Texas sized margaritas. Take a moment...
Mmmmmmm... Bless it! (Ha! How throwback is that John and Javon?)

Anywho, a bit of randomness to leave you with...
Can you really be fine as all outdoors?

Is it wrong that I'm totally in love with Fergie's new song London Bridges even though it's CLEARLY a cheap, easy whore of a Gwen Stefani knockoff?

Is it true that all you need in life IS your Chevy truck?

Will a hit dog REALLY holler?


Oh and I think I told Jameil but didn't spread the word around, but everyone is invited to post their own "Bitches be Hatin'" stories on their blogs and invite their blog buddies to do the same. I got some REALLY good ones emailed to me but I dunno if I'm allowed to post it. I'll ask.

Oh! And go over to the left and click on "She's Just not Feeling you" and read So Wise's account of her first foray to a stripclub because I'm too lazy to put up a link. It inspired me to write about my own first time, which is already written but in the notes on my sidekick so who knows how long it'll take to get posted?

And one last thing, I promise PROMISE! Why must one have a grill... to match their car?!?!?!

That's all I'm sayin'...

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Bitches Be Hatin' Part 2

Ahh bitches. Lol They slay me.

I can't escape them. They're everywhere. EVERYWHERE, I tell ya. And they like me. I mean to say they LOVE ME. Like they're inexplicably DRAWN to me, a proverbial moth to my flame we'll say.

*Sigh.* I can't stand bitches.

There's a fellow blogger out there in the bloguniverse, I'm deciding whether or not I wanna put up the link to the blog she wrote about me and a friend of mine, who is her ex, so you all can see how much the bitch hates me. And I don't know her. Hahaha! I find this hilarious. I'll let you know what I decide.

Now blog buddies, allow me to be mean and vicious, as I so rarely am. But in a second you'll see why people who fuck with me rarely fuck with me twice.

Bitch is such a harsh word. Lets call her Honey. Because that's what she calls herself and because anyone who knows me knows Honey for me is a constant substitute for bitch. So I guess, really, I'm calling her a bitch anyway. Ha! What can you do?

Oh and just a note, Honey, because I'm sure you're reading, because I know your type and you've probably tried to dig up as much as you can about me to figure out what I am that you're not, what I have that you don't, what it is about me that's so great that he'd "throw your love away" for just a chance with me...

Wait I forgot where I was going with this...

Oh yes!

I know you're probably reading cuz you've probably been all up and through my myspace page, studying me. So since you've decided to visit, make yourself comfortable, and let me set your ass straight.

I have a friend that I've known for 8 years. Lets call him Babe cuz, yes Honey as you read when you "accidentally" read our texts when you all were at Six Flags, that's what I call him. (Oh and by the way, yes I knew he was there with you, yes I knew he spent the night the night before, yes I know you slept in the bed together because he doesn't have to keep secrets from me unlike you.) Now Babe and I have been forever friends. He knows me impossibly well, even down to the things I've never told him that he has just intuited. Back when I met him in high school, we were infatuated with each other beyond reason. But the timing was never right; I was with someone, he was with someone, I was a punk scared of being so serious with him after getting out of a serious relationship at 18, I was moving away, and all the other things that seem so pressing and life altering in high school. (Lol) So lets fast forward a few years, we're both in relationships, we've lost touch cuz Honey is super threatened by the girl who hasn't talked to him in forever, has never even kissed him, lives 900 miles away, and hasn't been home in 2 years. (Logical right?) We have a phone conversation one night that lasts for a couple hours because we have about 3 years to catch up on. Around this time, he's incredibly happy with her, and I'm on my way to running down the aisle. He lies to her about talking to me, because, well this bitch is irrationally jealous, and the fact that they've been together at this point for well over a year, and it is possible to have a completely innocent coversation is beyond her realm of understanding.
Oh I meant, this honey. Same thing.

Lets fastforward to now...

They broke up months ago. Over maybe the last month and a half, he and I have gotten back in touch. (Pay close attention to the time table.) Not even 2 weeks ago, Babe and I made a decision about our "relationship" which resulted in both of us still being single. But how does Honey see it? She says he "left her for me". What bitch?!?! (Pay attention to the time table.) Have you lost your mind? Our relationship has nothing to do with yours. And you should really, REALLY not aggitate an aggressor such as myself when you're not familiar with my ways. When your own obvious weaknesses are on display, you should watch yourself.

And by the way, don't you EVER question MY best friend's intentions with Babe again. We knew him way before you, the friendships of all of us being part of the reason he grew into the man you fell in love with, and whether you believe it or not, she liked you and would've never disrespected your relationship with Babe. Neither would or have I for that matter. But you wouldn't know that because you'd rather paint me completely different than my nature. And that's fine. I don't care. However, you will NOT do that to my best friend. I will make you cry little girl. We got tenure here; you're just visiting.

So just to summarize, because I don't want the big words and long sentences to confuse your idiot brain...

1. I have nothing to do with your break up Honey. Your inability to keep a man did the trick for me.

2. We are not together, but if we were, I still wouldn't have had anything to do with your break up.

3. I don't care if you're still fucking. You two could fuck on the floor in front of me and let me watch and it still wouldn't change the way he feels about me. Try it.

4. Our relationship has nothing to do with your break up. What we do and don't do is none of your concern. I invite you to stop venturing to guess about it. The depth of what we've created over the last 8 years is too much for your tiny brain to handle.

5. He broke up with you because he was unhappy with your dramatic, selfish, jealous, needy ways. Not because I am nothing like that.

6. Yes, I am better than you. Just in case you were wondering.

7. Yeah, he loves me. Yes, he probably was picturing me the last couple of times you had sex. Can't relate. Must suck to be you Honey.

8. He's coming to Houston to visit. No he didn't make these plans while you were still together because I was not the reason you broke up. If you had the balls to learn the truth rather than paint yourself as the victim, I guess because it'll enhance your future Behind the Music that will never happen because I've heard you sing, you'd know that. By the way, I'm better than you at that too.

I stopped at 8 points of clarity because 8 is my favorite number, also coincidentally the number of years I've been friends with Babe (tell me Honey, how long have you known him?), the day of the week he's coming to visit me in Houston. I wish I could say it's the number of times he's talked about you but the truth is, the number is far less than that. At this point you're just a memory. A distraction, if you will, and now that he's come to his senses you can't really, BLAME him can you? A man can only put up with your kinda craziness so long...

Oh! And also, BITCH I TOOK UP FOR YOU!!! When he was angry with you, during and after your relationship, I DEFENDED YOU. Tried to convince him to calm down, see your side of things, not to do anything impulsive and rash, to try to stick things out with you. When he broke up with you the first time, I TRIED TO CONVINCE HIM THAT HE SHOULDN'T. I defended your stupid ass Honey. But you don't know that. You'd rather make it seem like I was out to destroy your relationship, like he never loved you and you KNOW that's not true. YOU destroyed your relationship all on your fucking own you insecure, jealous, posessive, childish, mean spirited, weak minded, untalented, drama craving bitch.

Babe hates the word bitch. I love it. Have you noticed?


And now a word from our sponsor:
Babe says:
"I hate to see it come to this...this is low. I hate to hear my friends call her a bitch, but really she brought it on herself. I don't know why I didn't expect this from her. But you're right, she doesn't have the guts to learn the truth. I'll be fine but once I come back around I've got nothing but a cold heart for her now. Shouldn't wound what you can't kill right?"

So really your litle blog did more harm than good, didn't it Honey? What were you thinking? That your constant assertations of you being "over it" would make it believable? What were you hoping? That he'd read it and feel so guilty he'd come back to you? You're so desperate for this man in your life you'd rather have him in his guilt than have him in love with you? Or is that something a "classy" young lady like yourself won't admit to?

Bitch please.

Oh. I mean Honey.

Lemme say this, you don't know me. This blog doesn't scratch the surface of how evil I can be when provoked. Think of it in extended metaphor; you know how, when you drop a mouse in the cage of a particularly vicious snake it waits patiently, waiting for the right moment to strike? And then suddenly, before you can blink, it attacks, takes off the poor mouse's head?

My anger is far worse than that. Don't push me.

You don't know me Honey. And your childishness is not something I deal with well. I don't play games with children. I don't play anything with them, not even the radio. Your speculation about what is going on between Babe and I is cute but unnecesary. Your unkind words are merely a needle to my sword. I will cut you down before you ever knew to open your mouth. Don't speak my name again, or anything about our situation because YOU DON'T KNOW and I guard my friends fiercely. I don't pretend to be the bigger person, to "pray" for you and your happiness. I claim to be the person last standing, no matter what that means for you. Don't test me. You don't want these problems little girl.

And one last thing Honey. I may mean nothing to you, but I mean the world to him. So does your opinion even really matter?

Friday, July 21, 2006

L is for Loser

I am a loser.

I've never been so sure of it in all my life.

I remember writing some posts a couple months back about how I was ready to graduate, ready to take on the world and apply my freshly acquired Howard knowledge.

But now...

I'm a loser.

All the people I know are doing great and wonderful things and I am truly happy for them because, truth be told, the class of '06 from Howard University are some truly talented muthaf*ckas and we deserve it. Well, they deserve it.

Because I am a loser.
And I SWEAR I'm only like 7% jealous.
(percentages subject to change based upon the number of unpaid bills at any time on my bedside table, number of drinks consumed, and how many weekends I spend in Houston hanging out with my mother because I don't have any friends.)

I'm gonna be one of those IHOP employees or shuttle bus drivers with a Howard degree that spends their 45th birthday crying over Ramen.


Did I mention I'm a loser?

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Either I'm a Lil Crazy or...

...blogging has a way of making you feel close to people you've never really met. I talk about you blog folks all the time, refer people to your sites, and even found myself today going, "Well my friend Jameil says..." I don't KNOW Jameil!! Never met her! EVER. LOL

But I guess the annonimity (sp?) of blogging has certainly inspired many to have conversations with strangers we wouldn't even have with some of our closest friends. And even hearing about the everyday mundane work/family/driving/shopping stories of the lives that are connected through these internet circles makes you feel less like you're reading about a stranger and moreso like you're catching up with your girlfriend on the phone after a particularly long day. And certainly sharing your most vulnerable layers with people and listening to their wisdom (or biases) certainly has a way of making you feel pretty connected with people. Even if you don't know what they look like, you know them, don't you?

Anyway, just a random thought.

I have at least 1,836 posts to get off my sidekick and onto here so I'll work on it. Be looking for lots of updates and stuff.

Oh and does anyone know something i can put in my naturally curly hair everyday that will :
* condition it
* define the curls
* make it shiny
* make it smell good
* not weigh my hair down so I look like a large poodle is laying on my head

Let me know. Thanks!

Monday, July 17, 2006


Wanna read something funny? And not just funny but fall-down-on-the-floor-kick-your-legs-up-in-the-air-screaming-laughing-crying-tears-rolling-down-your-face funny? Well then go read this:

Because it's funny. Because it's sad. Because it's a good reason to never be in a relationship. Oh and if you live in DC pass the word along to the ladies: the dogs are on the prowl!!!!

Friday, July 14, 2006

The Hardest Thing I'll Ever Do

I am leaving DC.
For good.

This is the part I haven't yet quite wrapped my mind around.

After weeks of back and forth, false starts, failed plans, I’m leaving. For real this time. I don't know what to do with that.

I never necessarily thought that DC could become a home to me. But in four years I have built a life here, a family. I’ve grown accustomed to the city like a friend who slowly became a lover. When I first got here- eighteen years old, starting over, or I guess more accurately, starting- I never thought for even a moment that I could really make it here. I figured I would crack and crumble, cave under the pressure like everyone said I would and come crawling home. But I didn't. I made it work. Every inch of my life here is of my making, every brushstroke and color painstakingly chosen and corrected and crafted by every smile and tear and love I’ve devoted to it. I have great friends whom I love more than anything and love me with the equal abandon. I revel in the freedom of having created myself from the pieces of who I was. I live here. I love here. I drink here and sing songs in the subway and make friends at just about every bar, store and restaurant in town. Here is where a man who loves me lives and a family who has adopted me resides and where the streets are lined with the type of memories even time can’t fade, both good and bad.

And I have to leave it all.

This is what I'm contemplating as The Great Houdini drops me off at the airport. It's early, snatches of sun barely peaking over the horizon. I kiss him briefly, refusing to give the emotion creeping up into the rafters of my chest an opening to spill out over my lips. I turn my attention to my bags, the utilitarian nature of having to, quite literally, carry my entire life on my back the exact type of thing that can distract me.
"They're not gonna let you stay parked here," I say to him without meeting his eyes and before he realizes this is the very reason I didn't ask him to park. I'd hoped to save myself any long, drawn out, romcom style goodbyes at security.

"You can't carry all that alone," he incorrectly assumes, reaching for one of the larger bags.
"Yes, I can. I've done it before," and he thinks I'm referring to my luggage. I would think he'd know by now that the amount I shoulder alone far surpasses that of smarter, less prideful humans. But this is what I do. As if to prove my point, I grab my bags, arrange them in such a way I can manage, leave only the slightest smear of lipgloss across his parted lips and toss a goodbye over my shoulder. I walk forward and I do not look back.

After I hustle through the lines at the ticket counter and security, I find a corner I can finally be still in. The early morning sun streams through the big airport windows that overlook the tarmac. With the exception of the occasional announcement over the loudspeaker, it’s quiet. People sit and stare off into space, some sleep, a few pass the time by glancing at their phones, and I wonder if they're leaving behind as much as I am.

I think back to the night before. After leaving a friend's job in Georgetown to say goodbye, I stood on the sidewalk awhile and tried to decide the best route to get home. I just started to walk. I walked through my favorites areas of town, pieces of old conversations on surround sound in my head. Each step on cobblestone or pavement or gravel walked me through old memories as though they were present.

You know this is my perfect date...and it's only our first. That's a good sign.

Oh, those is great TV moments right thurr!

"I failed my class. I might not graduate."
"Hey me too!"
"Thank god for mojitos and margaritas."

I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you...

I am sotally tober!

Soon I was back at the outskirts of Howard's campus, near the dorm where I first met a girl named Shani, whom I'd fall in love with in the most innocent way.

I can't believe he put his hands on me...thank god for leftover Valium.
TV loud…
I kept walking as night began to fall, passing my memories on the way. The courtyard where I fell for my first college boyfriend over nights of sitting outside in the cold talking for hours after visitation hours were over. The old brick building with the radio station tucked away in the basement where I met some friends I know I'll keep for life. The hill I stood on watching a man I had no business feeling anything for walk towards me, my heart fluttering uncontrollably in my chest.
On the main campus, I stood looking out over grass and the buildings and wondered how I ever even considered leaving this place, how I ever even fathomed I could manage not leaving my heart at my home on hilltop high. I remembered us all, at Yardfest cheering or booing the acts, sneaking liquor into soda bottles, taking way too many pictures. My sister and I walking across the yard, a quick trip stretched longer by all the people we stopped and talked to along the way before we could reach the Punch Out. Sitting on the Fine Arts steps watching everyone laugh, that still perfect first kiss on the bench under the trees, hide and go seek on the yard, snow fights in the valley, recon missions to get info about drama going on with our friends, flirting with the visiting Kappas, watching the probates, and eating lunch in the grass.

You better sing for the Lord!


Did he say his name was Dirtbag?

Lets go see if Mr. G or Officer Parks will let us backstage.

Hey where you at? You wanna meet me in the Punchout?

I blink and I'm back at the airport. It's brighter now, almost blinding, and the last boarding call for my flight is blaring over the loudspeaker. I gather my things, not rushing this time, letting it all sink in, trying to wrap my head around the fact that this. is. it.

I'm leaving so much here, so much of who I've become has to do with this city. Once again I feel eighteen, young, fresh and new, stepping out onto unsure ground, leaving everything behind. But this time it is different. Then I was running. Now I don't want to leave.

But if time has taught me nothing it's that you must keep moving forward, must keep pushing when it seems impossible to move that thing in front of you. So, I get on the plane. I walk forward, my shoulders back, head held high and I refuse to look back over my shoulder. If for no other reason than I might never leave if I do.

I am on the plane now. And they are closing the cabin door. I will see you on the other side.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Bitches Be Hatin'

There's a girl. Lets call her She. To put it plainly, She don't like me. I find this laughable. Why you ask? Because She ain't never met me.

I've never met this girl. Never laid eyes on her. She's never seen me except for pictures. Too her I am words. Words created and spoken by someone close to both of us, depending on who you ask on what day, closer to me. But She don't like me, never met me, never spoken to me but hates me for what I represent.


There's another girl. Lets call her Her. Her don't like me either. Why? Because I was her current boyfriends first love...3 years before they ever met and started dating. Back in the day, she and I used to be friends, a girl I really liked and coulda been close with had she A) not wanted to be with my boyfriend and B) not been crazy insecure. But Her was/is crazy insecure. When I come to town, he has to sneak to see me and my family, all of whom he's known for 10 years. When I call or text to make sure he's still alive (because he and I don't talk often because we've both MOVED ON) he has to respond laaaate at night when she's (finally) left him alone. Her don't like me because of principal, because of who I am to him. I've never done anything to Her either.

Lets introduce some more characters, shall we? I have another ex, lets call him Almost Fiance because once upon a time I planned on marrying him. Fiance had an ex, lets call her Chick. Now Chick and I got along all through she and Fiance's relationship, she even picked me a few times to discuss their problems with. Chick fucked over Fiance in a BIG way. Chicks do stupid shit like the shit Chick pulled. Months later, Fiance and I get together. Start planning OUR 'our' I mean the one that has nothing to do with her. Around the time we start thinking about marriage she pops up through email seemingly to play a rousing game of "Let's See Who's More Over Who". I guess Fiance was winning because Chick hit him with "I don't trust her, she's sneaky, something about her isn't right. I'm coming to visit you because we got a connection that can't be disconnected." Bitch please. Oh NOW I'm sneaky, NOW I can't be trusted but when you was telling me all your business about how bad you was fuckin' Fiance over when yall was together I was plenty trustworthy then, right Chick? And if you THINK that I woulda even almost considered you visiting ANYDAMNWHERE and giving you room to try to cause problems for us, ya fucking crazy Chick.

There have been countless other girls. Lets call them all Bitches. BITCHES BE HATIN'. Javon said it and now I'm convinced. Bitches don't know me, but Bitches can't stand me. Bitches have never laid eyes on me but swear I'm ugly, and then when they do see me, they run to the nearest salon, mall, and nail shop to try and look just like me. (Yes this has actually happened to me.) Bitches call me stupid and then find out I'm a genius. (Literally.) Bitches call me trifling but then spread lies about shit I didn't do. Bitches say I aint shit but are threatened because just the mere mention of my name is enough to tear their relationship assunder. Is this what we've reduced ourselves to ladies? Hating women YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW over men that ALREADY BELONG TO US because we're insecure? Because someone said we should? Is the shortage of men in the world really that bad that we really have to hate on each other for no reason? Bitches.

So in closing lemme say this: what do She, Her, Chick, and Bitches have in common? They all hate me and they don't know me. And that's fine. But know this about me; I am too grown to be playing these kinda games and I am too real to be subliminally send you hateful thoughts because I DON'T KNOW YOU EITHER BITCHES. With that being said, let my grown ass tell you something real: if you're gonna hate me, hate me because I'm one of the baddest bitches walking across this Earth. THERE'S a real reason to hate me, not this bullshit you come up with. Hate me 'cuz you ain't me.

And your man knows it too.

Wednesday, July 5, 2006

10 Things I've Learned from 4th of July in DC

1. Watching fireworks half drunk is scary.

2. It's never comfortable to have a friends' family members flirt with you.

3. See #2 and add a suitor 30 years my senior.

4. See #2 and add a suitor 7 years my junior.

5. Pink Pussies are a drink, and will cause family members from #3 to engage in a very disturbing conversation about female genitalia.

6. The Rick James Bitch is also a drink. It will make you get naked and run down the street singing showtunes.

7. Fireworks are more fun when they're illegal.

8. Fireworks are less fun you're a little drunk. Wait-did I write that already?

9. All the life advice you need from your elders consist of the 3 Fs: "If they're not fucking you, feeding you, or fighting you, the fuck 'em".

10. Everyone else's family is cooler than mine.