Friday, November 30, 2007

The Phone Call

I am tossing and turning, flitting through dreams, some entertained in a happy landscape, others notsomuch. I'm hot and then cold. Technically I am asleep but I feel myself being very aware of every time I kick the covers away and conversely every time I get cold. I feel when I brush my hair away from my face, when I clutch my pillow and burrow deeper in the sheets. Somewhere on the edge of consciousness, another dream begins.

I'm in bed, this bed, fast asleep when the phone rings, the ringer mistakenly up high, sqwaking a ringtone I haven't heard in many moons. I'm snatched from sleep. I contemplate not answering for a minute but it's so late or early, depending on which side of the moon you regularly consult with, and I am naturally prone to worry. I fumble in the dark and flip the phone open.
"Yeah what's up KB?"
"I know you're sleeping and I'm sorry to wake you-"
"Then why did you?"
"We need to talk."


I sit up straight, bracing myself for whatever follows, knowing that nothing that comes after "we need to talk" is ever good. I try and corrale my senses.

"What's up?" He pauses, and in the silence I hear his mind whirring and clicking, synapses firing, trying to fit together his words in such a way that this can somehow be a logical conversation between two adults and not a forray into 10th grade delusions of grandure. My heart rate speeds up just a bit.
"How have you been?"
"Cut the bullshit. You didn't call me at 4am to ask me how I been KB."

In the silence that follows I feel his resentment settling in and suddenly the air in the room goes cold.
"So you're seeing someone?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Mad Max said he saw you in a hotel bar around Galleria a couple weeks ago. With-" he chokes on his words, "someone."Despite myself I smile at his discomfort, and shake my head at how naiive I can be when I want to be.
"Yes. I'm seeing someone."
"How long?"
"Mmm, I dunno. Awhile, not too long, not long enough, forever and a day. Does it matter?"
"I just didn't know."
"I wasn't aware I was supposed to send you a press release."
"I guess I really didn't have to worry about dude I saw you with awhile ago."
"Honey he was GAY."
"Oh." That only temporarily slows his roll. "So you lied."
"About what KB?" punctuating my question with his name, a habit of mine I employ to notify the listener of just how absurd this conversation is to me.
"You were ready to date."
"KB do you realize I met you damn near NINE MONTHS ago?"

He takes pause because he hasn't done the math. I hear him calculating in his head, more click and whirs that tell me that this is an impulsive call, born purely of ego and emotion.

The worst kind.

"Honey," I take a deep breath and try to even out my tone," why are you upset?"
"I just can't believe... I... I just didn't know..." he trails off.
"Well, now you know."
"I mean... THAT'S who you date instead of me?"
"I'm happy. Can it be about that please?"
"You have GOT to be fucking kidding me."

For the next 10 minutes or so he rants and raves of all the things we coulda been, shoulda been, laments this choice I've made, until he tires himself out into silence.
"You feel better now?" I ask him, not a drop of anger or maliciousness in my voice. Mostly just exhaustion at the weight of my choices, sadness at this being an issue.
"No actually. I don't."
"Well good. Me either. I need to go back to sleep dear."
"Ok. I'll call you later."
"Please. Don't."

I hang up the phone softly and put it on silent. As I slide back under the covers, I feel myself falling.

I snatch awake, the darkness still quiet around me, the dog snoring contentedly in the corner. Honey raises her head for just a second to look at me curiously, wondering why I'm awake. She decides she doesn't care, rolls over and within seconds is snoring again. I laugh at myself. I am so extra sometimes. I lay back down, curling around my pillow like I'm holding someone, pulling the covers up to my chin and close my eyes. My breathing starts to deepen and I feel myself drifting.

Then the phone rings.

I snatch it up, incredulous at the caller ID.

"We need to talk."



Oh the joy.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007


...I quite literally pissed off every single person I had contact with from the moment I woke up ("Hey you wanna go out this weekend?") to the minute after I fell asleep and was awakened around 4am by a phone call ("We need to talk.") Ugh.

I think that's pretty damn talented.

This is why I don't talk to people. Because it gets me in trouble. Because they say things that make me say things that I need to consider first. And since I can't exactly seem to get a handle on that whole brain-to-mouth censor thing, I think it's best I hush.

Except, my phone keeps BLOWING UP. And no one calls me, ever. And everyone is instant messaging. And emailing. And texting. (And we all know how attatched I am to my texts... don't we Jam?) Where were all these people when I wanted to talk? When I could talk to people and not alienate my friends? lol

So here's what I learned from yesterday...

1. Don't call me and ask me for relationship advice. Please. It's best for the both of us.
2. If you keep your phone on silent, you won't be tempted to answer it when it rings because you won't hear it.
3. When your friends call you and complain about you being MIA, feign mock confusion and then have the call "drop". You must do it within the first 3 minutes of the convo. It's better this way. 4. I hardly ever wanna have a convo that begins with, "We need to talk." I especially don't wanna have this convo at 4am... with you.
5. I am notsomuch with the people skills. But I'm working on it. Sincerely.


So Jam asked over at Joy's spot and, for lack of any other inspiration, I guess I will reply.

Ahh, Barbie. First coined "Gangsta Bitch Barbie" by yours truly (which may or may not be the way it happened but I'm gonna claim it cuz I'm gangsta like that and know it will go unopposed.)

It is widely documented that I distrust everything that breathes, and Barbie was no exception. In high school she was always a little flaky to me, a little shady around the edges in ways that I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I knew I didn't wanna get close to. There were lots of things that turned me off to her as a human being in high school that came even before the event that broke up Joy and Barbie's friendship. When the whole drama went down, I was more than thoroughly disgusted with her, if for no other reason than I hate those chicks who blindly take their man's side just because he's their man without any kinda heeding of the facts. That shit drives me INSANE.

Barbie and He Who's Name I Do Not Speak did their thing. And my resentment of the situation was mostly born of the fact that I had to sit and watch my best friend suffer and I wasn't allowed to kick her ass or send someone after his. Fine. Who has bail money in high school anyway?

But that was years ago. And I barely even recognize the person I was in high school anymore. I can only hope that Barbie and her husband have experienced the same evolution. Being married and parents this long certainly implies a certain growth, but doesn't neccessarily guarantee it.

Which is cool. Cuz I DO have bail money now.

I Cannot BELIEVE...

... that I forgot this!!!

So here's a test of random La trivia... who's my favoritest artist of ALL TIME?

And when will he be coming to Houston for his first tour in 25 years?



I am LITERALLY counting the seconds until December 4th. Next week is gonna be so spectacular.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Cliff's Notes

...of the things you should be aware of or that have been on my mind as of late.

1. It's the holidays. I'm bitchy. Be entertained by it or get the hell on.

2. I had an amazing stroke of genius! I know what I'm getting everyone for Christmas! Woo! And it only took 2 migraines, alot of drinks and 1 sleepless night. Hell yeah bitches!

3. I'm looking for a second job. Which has kinda been good for my self esteem. Two places hired me on the spot in the middle of my interview, and countless more have contacted me back almost IMMEDIATELY to set up interviews. Who knew I was in such high demand?

4. It has been decided that this year's annual birthday trip will be to... MIAMI!!! ohmigod. *shaking head at how utterly, completely and totally outta control my sister and I will most certainly be* It'll be fantastic. It'll be ridiculous. It'll be more fun than we have all year... til my sister's birthday in June. I can barely stand to think about how much trouble we can get into in Miami in one weekend. If you ain't scared, you're welcome to roll...

5. The gadget universe hates me. The Blackberry I'm in love with? It comes in red... but only on another service provider. *sigh* Why me?

6. There alot of songs with my name in them. 17 of them, at least.

7. You know how I own 8,492 pairs of shoes? Why is it that I DON'T own a pair of black boots? It is my mission to rectify this as soon as possible.

8. Yes sir, I'm aware I have a nice shape and I'm pretty well endowed. I don't blame you for staring. I probably would too. It's in your genes. I understand. HOWEVER, if you could not spill your coffee on the breasts that you are staring at, that would be spectacular.

9. I'm officially the only person stupid enough to still live in Houston. Mari and Ella packed up and vacated for NYC a few weeks ago. So I'm back to being a loser. *sigh*

10. I have 4,629 trips planned for next year. It's making me quite hopeful that '08 will be far better than the horrificness that has been '07.

11. Why do people keep asking me for advice? Seriously. Um... has anyone SEEN my love life track record? And you KNOW that you don't REALLY want me to tell you the truth. Just like I know you know that I just can't and won't coddle you. So WHY do you call me and put us both through this? WHY?!?

12. It's funny how, while you're all focused on how to do it in such a way that won't create drama or trauma, the universe has a way of cutting off friends that you couldn't yourself if you just hang back and let it happen.

13. I have GOT to start disclosing things to my friends consistently. I really lose track of who I tell what to, and then I just end up not saying anything at all for fear I'll fuck it up.

14. There is nothing more disgusting in life that you purposely making your house look like the holiday section at Big Lots threw up on it. Oh wait... yes there is. Watching you, sweaty Mexican man with the beer gut hanging over your cloth belt and khakis, hang said decorations. *VOMIT*
15. Jam is the devil. On your haunches blog bully.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007


Aiight, so anyone who's been around my spot awhile knows that this is my least favorite time of year. I am not a holiday person. Usually, I'm pretty grumpy from around Halloween til the point where my first drink touches my lips on New Year's Eve (shout out to the guy who bought me a personal bottle of champagne last year and LITERALLY put a straw in it for me!!!). It's been a little better as I am not working retail this year and am not subjected to full on Christmas regalia around, oh Columbus Day or so (do people realize there are like 17 other holidays between the 4th of July and Christmas that just totally get played to the left a la Beyonce?) so that's been a gift from The Woman Upstairs. But alas, my Holiday Dry Heaves have hit full force. Why?

Because I have NO CLUE as to what to get ANYBODY for effin' Christmas.

I agonize for MONTHS about what to buy people for holidays and birthdays. I absolutely adore giving people presents. It's part of the reason I am sometimes late with them; because before you ever even tear the ribbons off the box (and yes I am a BEAST with the wrapping) I have probably bought and exchanged NO LESS than 6 presents before settling on this last one. (I'm pretty sure Joy is the only person who recognizes this. I think everyone else just thinks I am a flake *shrug*) But they are always perfect. And I kinda pride myself on that.

Now while I don't subscribe to this whole commercial ass holiday, much in the same vein that I dislike Valentines Day I do draw a great sense of joy from giving others presents I know they'll love. Usually, I've had enough random conversations with people throughout the year to have picked up on little things they've mentioned liking or wanting. Because I pay attention to the little details, I usually know what I am getting everyone around September, October or so... which is when I try to do my xmas shopping so that I don't have to deal with holiday mall traffic. This system as worked pretty well for me over the years; I don't spend Black Friday in the mall huddled in a corner and sobbing because the crowds are too overwhelming, and everyone gets something that they want but mentioned so many months ago that they kinda forgot they even wanted it. They're happy, I'm at home in the bed drinking and watching Friends on dvd. Everyone wins.

This year, notsomuch.

I got NOTHING. Not even for Joy who I ALWAYS have at least one good gift for. I can barely even stand how utterly ridiculous I am. lol

I'm at a loss. And it's November. The end of the shit, no less. Meaning everyone is dangerously close to getting homemade cards because I refuse to even drive by a mall or shopping center. At least not if they don't have a full bar inside whatever store I must visit. Otherwise, I just can't cope. Online shopping? That's an option. I'd still have to know what to get you though. See the cyclical nature of my tragedy? lol *sigh*

Oh and also, when you ask me what I want for Christmas and I say I don't really know but you can get me a gift card and I'll be happy, I'm NOT being an ass. I really do love gift cards. Like, alot. I like them much more that you buying me something I'll hate. Plus, I NEVER know what I want. And the things I DO want, are waaaaay too expensive for me to be comfortable with someone else buying it for me. (I have SINCERE issues with people buying me things and spending money on me. To that end, remind me to tell you about a huge fight me and Almost Fiance had back in the day...) So, please stop giving me that "La I'ma Fuck You Up" look when I say that I'm totally ok with gift cards. Because I really am. I don't find them impersonal or lacking thought. One of the greatest things I ever got for Christmas was a gift card to Target aka the Black Hole of my Paycheck. I was so happy I LITERALLY squealed.

So, the moral of the story is, I need all my friends and family to be more like Joy when I am at a loss for what to get them for Christmas...

*via text... *

I am COMPLETELY at a loss as to what to get you for xmas. What do you want?

I dunno.

*more texts*

I was gonna get you like 5 gift cards and arrange them all pretty in a bag, lol

I would LOVE that! (without an ounce of sarcasm) I was just gonna get you a Victoria's Secret gift card so you wouldn't have to worry about semi annual this year.

OMG! That's PERFECT! (without an ounce of sarcasm)

And that, ladies and gentleman is why I would have her babies for her. I really need to finish that Friendaversay post that's over a month late... but like the presents I buy, it's never perfect until a lil while after the fact.

Friday, November 16, 2007


It's that moment when your breath literally vacates your body for parts unknown. When, just for a second, the world is suspended, everything is in slow motion, maybe completely still, and you simply cannot remember how to breathe. Maybe your heart pounds, or maybe its beating is arrested completely. Your palms might sweat. You might be struck cold, or run hot, or maybe both in tandem. Your senses are stunted. Your days, your weeks, your life as it could be rush by you in that moment simultaneously blurry and made so clear.

You just know.

From the second you lay eyes on them, barely having a complete moment to sweep them over head to toe, you know that you don't stand a chance.

You're falling. Just that fast. You haven't hit bottom yet, but you're spiraling. You're on your way.

It's not love at first sight because that is such a whimsical feeling, such a transient theory. This is more solid than that. This has been building. Slowly gaining momentum behind the scenes, slyly wrapped around every syllable of every conversation, every smile, every laugh, all to slam you into this moment with full force. You won't be the same after this. There is no backward tread.

But if you're like me, if you've been as shell shocked and emptied by this feeling as I have, you try, of course. You try to dig in your heels and retreat. You say the wrong things at the wrong times. You play little games with yourself, little tests of your own will power, measure your worth by how long you can or cannot stay away. But your heels won't grip the ground to beat a hasty retreat back into safety. You fumble over yourself trying to fix the things your careless words have broken. You forget the clock has even started on the game and before you know it, your phone is in your hand and you're smiling, so hard and so wide that it feels like your face will never regain it's elasticity. You're laughing, genuinely, loudly, enraptured by the cadence of the voice in your ear. It's new but it's comfortable. You feel like you've lived this love before. It's exciting but not alarming.

Because this isn't that feeling you grew accustomed to. It isn't That Thing you know backwards and forwards because you haven't been struck like this before. You can't articulate It because you feel it too deeply. This is decidedly foreign but it still feels like home.

And that is utterly terrifying.

So then what?

You indulge yourself in negative thinking. You remind yourself of all the ways this is improbable, unlikely, illogical. You study the issues therein so you are well versed, so at any moment you can pull a passage from your readings and use it as suplementary documentation that it's best you retreat. Or hold back. Or take it slow. Or maybe even full out sprint in the opposite direction.

But you never do.

Because you're tethered. Because you're invested. Because you know it could be all of the things you need and none of the things you don't.

Maybe you unlace your running shoes, leave them in a muddied heap by the door to be picked up at a much later date. Or maybe you never pick them up at all. You actually allow yourself to entertain the possibility. At night, when it's quiet and you are alone, you consider the What If. And you smile to yourself, maybe you speak it aloud because you like the way it rings in your ears. You turn it over in your hands and get familiar with the texture of it. Because the darkness can hide you. Maybe one day you can revel in the What If outloud, in the daylight hours.

But I'm not at that point yet.

It's funny, because fundamentally, that moment changes you. Before you remember that breath is a neccessity, before the earth around you starts to move again, parts of you are reawakened that you just assumed had long since perished to be gone forever. It's so overwhelming, that moment, and you're rooted firmly to the spot, completely transfixed.

Just breathe.

And then you say hello.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

One Word

I was born a wordsmith. There was never a time I remember that I wasn't writing. Early on in life, words became my savior, my sword with which to fight even my most egregious life battles. I have an immense respect for language, for words. Words in and of themselves, when coupled with the appropriate intentions, are extraordinarily powerful. Words can destroy. Words can rebuild. Words can endear. Words can mend. They can unite a community. They can swiftly tear asunder what was once unbreakable.

There are few words in any language as powerful as cancer.

No matter what the tone, the intention, the method of delivery, it can single handedly maraud and annihilate. The word itself is omnipotent, an exact reflection of the disease itself, swift and deadly. In and of itself, it is a force to be reckoned with. There are few things in life that render me speechless faster than human suffering. It is part of the reason I started to write in the first place. To relay, to capture the entire spectrum of the human experience. To vividly sculpt a memory where time may otherwise dull the sharpness of the details. To give voice, to my own suffering, to the suffering of others.

That word, cancer, coupled with others or standing alone, is a complete thought unto itself. A singular concept that, no matter the context or the language, is uttered with the distinct understanding that it is the inauguration of battle. No one who hears it is under any illusion that they are in for a leisurely stroll through the corridors of medicine. This is a crash course in survival, the tempo varied according to its stage and rate of progression. It changes your life. Suddenly. Totally. Because even if you beat it, you are never again the same person.

I remember when my grandmother first starting getting sick. Being the baby of my generation, and the accused favorite grandchild, no one ever really let me know just how sick she was. The first time she got cancer (yes there were two times and two very separate and distinct types) I didn't even know it was cancer. I just knew she was "sick". I never even entertained the thought that my grandmother might not make it because, being the willful woman she was, it just didn't seem logical. That coupled with the insistence of my family in protecting me from the actualities of her condition, made it easy to go on with life as if the big C word wasn't hanging ominously over our matriarch. When she got older and started to deteriorate at an alarming rate, the details of her previous sicknesses began to slowly leak out. I was beyond furious. Hadn't I deserved to know? Hadn't I deserved the opportunity to walk that journey with her, the time to grieve, to rage, to cry, to then pick myself up and be there for her? Hadn't I deserved the opportunity to wade the the waters littered with debris with her, to help her find the bits and pieces of her life she could salvage? Wouldn't it have done me better to remember her as a fighter in those days of chemotherapy as she would sit for hours wringing her hands and lamenting her gorgeous hair that had become thin and lifeless? Wouldn't it have been better than the last mental image I have of my grandmother being her tiny body engulfed by a hospital bed, her skin cold, her limbs unresponsive to my touch, months after her various sicknesses had ravished her body? Hadn't I too deserved the opportunity, like the rest of my entire family, to speak the word cancer, to turn it over in my mouth and get familiar with the bitter, metallic taste it left in the back of my throat, to utter it and give life to it, to make it real? Could I not handle such a power? I remember thinking the day of her funeral, that everything was just so wrong. It didn't seem fitting that an entire 80 plus years of life was somehow supposed to be contained and buried in such a small box. I remember THAT being the thought that made me cry. Not that she was gone, not that I'd never hug or hear her again, not that she'd never give me little presents I didn't know to cherish. The thought that this is what life can so easily, so readily be reduced to. That everything she'd known and worked for and created and loved could be forever changed by just a word. Two syllables. Infinite strength. I hated knowing that cancer was so powerful that I'd never get to hear the stories of her childhood, her experiences, her life, that she'd gotten more prone to telling as her life wore on. I couldn't stand the thought that she'd miss the rest of my life all because of a fucking word.

And now, again, cancer has struck so swiftly, so suddenly in my life. The full weight of it is so full, so heavy, that its hard to imagine there's any pushing it off.

But there is. Because there is a word more powerful than cancer. Love.

And even when I can't bring myself to believe that love, in the romantic sense, can conquer all, I know that love, genuine, real, passionate, unwavering, is the greatest weapon that we will ever have in our arsenal. I know that, even as my chosen weapon is the written word.

Fundamentally, love is greater than all things. It joins together where other words have torn apart. It is the force that prevails when all others have failed. In this life, it is love that gives depth to human suffering. It is love that captures memories and makes them vivid. It is love that heals where other words destroy. I believe wholeheartedly in love, pure, simply complex, all consuming and true. If you let it, love can be the thing stands when everything else has fallen. It is the thing worth salvaging from the wreckage. Love just IS, the mere presence of which is more powerful than any word uttered in its path. Love is the great equalizer. The light in the dark, the salvation of hope when otherwise there is none. And don't we all, at some point, need to be saved?

Thursday, November 8, 2007


Here's a little known La History Fact: It takes alot to get me stressed. Like, alot.

The earth has to be damn near combustion for me to feel the pressure. People who really know me, know that I am not truly stressed until I stop complaining about it. If I still have the wherewithal to bitch about how stressed I am, I'm not really stressed out.

Usually, once I get to that point where I feel like I'm about to break, I instinctively kick into autopilot mode. I start fixing things, doing things, planning, plotting, hustling, and generally making things happen with little conversation. Sometimes after all is said and done I come back to fill you in on it. More often than not, once the waters receed at least slightly, I'm back with my usual jokes and sarcasm, most none the wiser that there was anything going on in the first place.

This is just what I do. I'm finding myself wholly uninspired to write anything as of late. (Which usually means something great is on the way.) Probably because my brain has shut down.

Not a curtain call. Just intermission.

I'm on autopilot. Be back.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

"I Enjoy Him" and Other Randomness for Lack of a Real Post

In list form of course...

1. I am unnaturally attatched to candy corn. So much so that with all this Halloween talk, I've been reduced to craving it. I actually went out of my way to stop and get a bag damn near as big as my torso. My justification is that I was trying to avoid traffic. However, apparently everyone had the same idea as me as every store I went to was completely sold out of candy corn.

2. Speaking of Halloween (and I promise that this is not just me hating because I never got to participate in any kinda typical Halloween activity as I was always at church) when did kids get so fucking lazy? I saw kids walking about my neighborhood trick or treating that WEREN'T EVEN DRESSED UP. How wack are you? Those kids would get my door slammed in their face. However, the little Mexican baby next door that was dressed up like a dragon... oh he woulda got all my candy, and probably some of my money too.

3. I really need to buy one of those adapter thingies for my car for my ipod. The amount of cds I have floating around my car is ridiculous. At this point, I'm pretty sure the floorboards of the truck are vomitting compact discs.

4. "I enjoy him," says my co-worker TC in reference to a guy who works in our building who is QUITE lickable. She didn't know anything about him other than her enjoyment so enter Superslueth La: I damn near had a blood sample and his SSN by close of business. I'm sick with the secretive snooping, lol. And I am DEF stealing this saying. *looking cutie up and down from across the bar* "mmm I enjoy him." LMFAO!

5. When did it become popular to refer to a woman's genitalia as bubblegum? Honey you SHALL NOT chew me. And if you do, I'm kicking you in your forehead. Fall back.

6. I hate when people mispronounce simple words like saying "obeast" and "pacific". I'ma need you to get that together immediately before my irritation causes me to hit you with a flying drop kick.

7. You know what I miss most about east coast living? Really good takeout places. When I was living in NYC, it was absolutely MIND BOGGLING to me that I could get ANYTHING delivered to my place on 116th. OMG! Living in DC spoiled me too: do you know how many times we ordered Danny's at 2am? I need more of it in my life. I miss the better coast.

8. However, you know what I DO love about Texas? The fact that the speed limit damn near everywhere is between 60-70mph. Which means everyone does between 70-85mph. Right up my alley.

9. Gloria Estefan really is quite magnificant. 90 Milias has not left my cd player since I got it 2 weeks ago. Literally.

10. There is nothing more entertaining to me than riding up on white people with rap music blaring from my speakers. Riding down Kirby the other day, I had UGK on. But you know what's even better than the white lady clutching her pearls at her chest? Her daughter who had to struggle to hide the look of recognition and pleasure that passed across her face when she recognizes who it was. Hey Mrs. Henderson... you daughter is probably fuckin' a black dude. He's gettin' it in. Guaranteed.

11. I work in an office full of drunks. At any point in times you can hear plans being made about who's going where to happy hour, what drinks need to be brought to this tale gate party, etc. Someone brought beer to our Halloween potluck. Not a party. Beer. Potluck. Loves it. Speaking of which, next time you're mixing a drink, try pure pineapple juice and Bacardi Rasberry. Insert orgasmic sounds (here).

12. How did I ever live without chipotle? I really don't know. And I never plan to have to find out ever again.

13. There is something I find fundamentally attractive about Bun B's voice. Maybe I've been in Texas too long...? I'm not sure. But in my defense, there is NOTHING I find attractive about his face.

14. Another thing to add to my suspect homo male list: Men with small dogs. There is no way on earth you can have swagger walking your little white Pomeranian. None.

15. Speaking of voices I enjoy, is it just me or can you listen to Sean Paul (from the YoungBloodz) talk alllllllll day. I could. *sigh* When is his solo album coming out? God bless the Atl man.

16. Why is the "Make it Rain" Remix the most hilarious thing in my life right now? Just R. Kelly's part. "Make it rain on them hooooooooooooooeeees!!!!" He sings that shit so HARD. I am LITERALLY cracking up as I type.

17. No ma'am. I wasn't looking at your boyfriend. I don't want him. He looks like that thing I hit with my truck that time I drove home slightly intoxicated. Except he looks like what it looked like after I ran over it with both sets of wheels. Tire tracks and all. You can chill with the death grip on his arm. I don' t want him.

18. I need to add on at least 3 more hours to everyday to get everything done.

19. Since when I was I the person everyone calls to give them advice about marriage? Have yall MET me?!?!?!?!?

20. Someone please keep me out of Victoria Secret. It's like The Promised Land. And I'd really like to not completely ruin my credit.

I'm occupied for the weekend. You guys write alot so I have something to do at work on Monday!!!