First Vox Box review

So I joined this service called Influenster. They send you samples of stuff to try and review. Cool right? I was so excited to get some free makeup or haircare or household samples to try. So I did the surveys and whatnot for a year, but never qualified for a box...until last month. Omg omg omg! I opened the email hoping to see I was getting a makeup or haircare sample...but it was Slim Fast.

Influenster trolled the hell out of me. Lol

BUT...I'm no ingrate, so I gave it the ole college try and here are a few thoughts:

(Note: I received these complimentary products for testing purposes only and I'm not being compensated for this review).

1. The shake
Eh...tasted like diet pudding. I guess I could choke this down if necessary, but I'd rather starve myself skinny lol.

2. The granola bar
Not bad, I'd buy this one, and it's under 200 calories, so win.

3. SC&O crisps
These kinda tasted like seasoned cardboard, not my fave.

4. Cinnamon swirl crisps
These were actually pretty good. I'd skip a second snack if I was following this diet and put these in a bowl with some milk, theye tasted like cereal. I'd definitely buy these again.

So...if you're looking to go the Slimfast route, give these a try, you may like them. Ciao! :)

Harpo...who dis woman?

I'm going to have to put a disclaimer here before I begin: I intend to use a LOT of profanity in this post. Not because I'm unable to express myself in clean, PC fashion, but because I'm mad as hell and being all shiny happy people about it won't adequately get my point across.

There. Now we can begin.

*grabs bullhorn*

BASIC BITCHES ARE FUCKING IT UP FOR DECENT WOMEN.

Let me elaborate. I'm back in the dating pool (fun!! *sarcasm*). I am now forced to wade through the foolishness and bullshit thrown at me in an attempt to find a decent guy who's interested in a relationship. But the problem I (and many of my single acquaintances) seem to be having is, men don't even try anymore. I'm quite aware that there are countless women in this area who are interested in nothing more than the occasional roll in the hay...and there's nothing wrong with that (different strokes for different folks and all that jazz), but ALL women don't feel the same way. The real rub comes when you meet a guy and the last 10 women he'd dealt with have groomed him to think that taking a crass approach to pitching woo is not only acceptable, but cute. (wait...did I just say pitching woo? how old am I, 65?)

Fail. Epic even.

When I meet a guy and he turns to sex as the active topic of discussion within the first 15 minutes, my eyes glaze over. I swear to God, if I hear some variation of how sexy I am and how I can "get it" from some mouth-breather one more time, I'm going to snap and beat him with his own weak-ass game.

*breathe*

Ok, now that I feel slightly better...let me move on. Guys, we women like chivalry. That doesn't automatically mean you have to go bankrupt taking us out and buying us useless crap in order to seal the deal. Really...not all of us are that dumb and materialistic. You can make it rain? Guess what...I have a job, so can I. I'll be impressed when you can make it thunderstorm. But if a woman says she's NOT looking for just another FWB...that's what that means. Don't think that you're special and you're gonna change her mind, you're not. You stand a better chance of making yourself look like a complete jackass.

And what is the deal with guys asking to come to your house 15 minutes after you begin an initial conversation? Are women in this area really that careless with their safety? Are they really that hard-up for some male attention? A guy sent me a message on some site I joined the other day and asked for my messenger id. Harmless enough, so I replied back with the info and told him I'd be looking forward to chatting and getting to know him a little better. So there we are on yahoo, just getting acquainted, when out of left field the sentence of doom is dropped: "You're really beautiful, I'd love to meet you. Can I come over?"

O_o

This conversation took place at 1:30am. Like the fuck I'm gonna invite you over to my place at almost 2am to "meet". Really? That's how folks end up on milk cartons. Don't sell me the bullshit when I have cows at home. I declined, feigned exhaustion after a long workday and said goodnight in short order (of course he offered to come give me a "massage" to relieve some of that workday stress *eyeroll*). I erased his info before he even had time to send me an email chock full of sexual innuendo and horrible spelling and grammar (sidenote: that shit really chaps my ass. How can you be over the age of 21 and "u wana spel lyke dis"? What the bloody hell is wrong with properly spelling things? I don't want you to sound like you didn't pay attention in grade school, that shit aint cute, ugh! /end rant)

Men: do better. Please.

*drops mic*

Pins and Needles - Billy Talent

What I'm listening to right now...

Sweet Minty Jesus, it's Christmas

It's that special time of year again...the snow is falling (wait, no it's not, it just rained)...the family is near (wait, no they aren't, it's just me and my mom this year...and she's driving me nuts)...the presents are under the tree (wait, no they aren't, there is no spoon tree and I received no presents)...and I'm cuddling with my sweetheart by the fire (wait, does a commitment-phobe who really doesn't like me that much count? No? And swing and a miss).

*Sigh* 

It's Christmas again...and I feel like crying again. Not because I'm alone (that commitment-phobe doesn't count and I'm not going to lie to myself and say he does, he's just a band-aid on a stab wound...and he'll be tossed out in the NYD garbage like the empty bottle of whatever I'll be drinking because I'm not moving into a new year with folks who really aren't here for me) and not because I didn't get any gifts, but just because it doesn't really feel like Christmas. I tried listening to some music, but that didn't really help. My mother is driving me to drink, but like the idiot I am, I didn't stock up on proper hard liquor before stores closed on Christmas eve...so I'm drowning myself in wine and (yuck) beer. 

Well, I have one thing to be grateful for this year: at least I don't feel like slitting my wrists the right way, so I guess that's an improvement from 2011. Still, is it bad that I was a tad disappointed the world didn't end on 12/21? It is? Meh...I don't give a shit. I'm also proud of myself for not vomiting my sadness all over fb this holiday season...no need to ruin the good cheer of those who haven't hidden me in their newsfeed yet. Oh...and I had to feign absolute joy with the "surprise" (note: yeah right, attention whores) engagements and baby announcements on fb all day (welp, that's six more people I'm hiding from my timeline...me and my missing uterus don't give a single solitary fuck about your pregnancy, congrats, have fun with that).

Next week is NYE...I'm going to the annual NYE BADASS rave up in Baltimore. I'd hoped I wouldn't have to go alone, but ye ole commitment-phobe is refusing to say he's definitely coming or not, so I purchased a single ticket and told him if he didn't want to come, it was no big deal and I'd just go alone (note: it is a big deal and that was a test...and he failed...quelle surprise). I was so excited when he professed his love for EDM, I thought it would mean more of a chance to do things together that we both enjoyed, but alas, no. Oh well...but I'm holding out hope, maybe I'll meet a really nice guy at this party and start the new year on a high note instead of a lonely drive home while crying at the tatters of my life...one can dream right? Please? Anyone? Bueller? 

Also, I miss my dog...like a lot. I can't wait for him to come home. At least that's one male in my life who loves me unconditionally. And on that note, I need a drink because that's probably the most pathetically sad thought to ever cross my mind.

*drops mic*

The Raver's Manifesto

I didn't write this, but I love the message...enjoy:)

Our emotional state of choice is Ecstasy. Our nourishment of choice is Love. Our addiction of choice is Technology. Our religion of choice is Music. Our currency of choice is Knowledge. Our politics of choice is None. Our society of choice is utopian though we know it will never be. You may hate us. You may dismiss us. You may misunderstand us. You may be unaware of our existence. We can only hope you do not care to judge us, because we would never judge you. We are not criminals. We are not disillusioned. We are not drug addicts. We are not naive children. We are one massive, global, tribal village that transcends man-made law, physical geography, and time itself. 

We are The Massive. 

One Massive. 

We were first drawn by the sound. From far away, the thunderous, muffled, echoing beat was comparable to a mother’s heart soothing a child in her womb of concrete, steel, and electrical wiring. We were drawn back into this womb, and there, in the heat, dampness, and darkness of it, we came to accept that we are all the same. We came to accept that we are all equal.

Not only to the darkness, and to ourselves, but to the very music slamming into us and passing through our souls: we are all equal. And somewhere around 35Hz we could feel the hand of God at our backs, pushing us forward, pushing us to push ourselves to strengthen our minds, our bodies, and our spirits. Pushing us to turn to the person beside us to join hands and uplift them by sharing the uncontrollable joy we felt from creating this magical bubble that can, for one evening, protect us from the horrors, atrocities, and pollution of the outside world. It is in that very instant, with these very realizations that each of us was truly born. We continue to pack our bodies into clubs, or warehouses, or buildings you’ve abandoned and left for naught, and we bring life to them for one night. Strong, throbbing, vibrant life in its purest, most intense, most hedonistic form. In these makeshift spaces, we seek to shed ourselves of the burden of uncertainty for a future you have been unable to stabilize and secure for us.

We seek to relinquish our inhibitions, and free ourselves from the shackles and restraints you’ve put on us for your own peace of mind. We seek to re-write the programming that you have tried to indoctrinate us with since the moment we were born. Programming that tells us to hate, that tells us to judge, that tells us to stuff ourselves into the nearest and most convenient pigeonhole possible. Programming that even tells us to climb ladders for you, jump through hoops, and run through mazes and on hamster wheels. Programming that tells us to eat from the shiny silver spoon you are trying to feed us with, instead of nourish ourselves with our own capable hands. Programming that tells us to close our minds, instead of open them. Until the sun rises to burn our eyes by revealing the dystopian reality of the world you’ve created for us, we dance fiercely with our brothers and sisters in celebration of our life, of our culture, and of the values we believe in:

Peace, Love, Freedom, Tolerance, Unity,

Harmony, Expression, Responsibility and Respect.

Our enemy of choice is Ignorance. Our weapon of choice is Information. Our crime of choice is breaking and challenging whatever laws you feel you need to put in place to stop us from celebrating our existence. But know that while you may shut down any given party, on any given night, in any given city, in any given country or continent on this beautiful planet, you can never shut down the entire party. You don’t have access to that switch, no matter what you may think.

The music will never stop.

The heartbeat will never fade.

The party will never end.

I am a Raver, and this is my Manifesto.

#PLUR

It's time...

I want to get a new tattoo, a sleeve, but I'm teetering on the edge of that notion...but I want one really bad. I love my cancer ribbon, but the moment my artist was done, I knew it was just a tad too low on my arm. So I'd like to build around it. I've said in the past that I'd never get one because I can't wear an evening gown and still look classy...but that's what Dermablend is for. ;)


I've been researching half-sleeves. I'm not crazy enough to jump in the deep end and get a full sleeve yet, but by the time I retire, I'd like to have my arm covered from shoulder to wrist. 


Now the question becomes...what to get? Where to start? Aaaargh! And that's where I lose focus and start procrastinating. Also, some tattoos hurt...like a lot. The one on my shoulder blade felt like death becomes me (funny how the person's name that is inked there hurt me more than that tattoo ever could, but whatever). I'm a baby when it comes to pain, yes the girl who's had enough surgery to earn a hospital punch-card doesn't like pain or needles, so I know it's going to take a while to get this art project done. 


I have a hazy idea of what I'd like it to eventually look like. There's a website where folks will give you ideas and designs, so maybe I'll upload my cancer ribbon with a note saying to start there. 


Also...how will mommie dearest react? Oh who am I kidding? She finds a way to complain about everything I do, I'd get it to annoy her just for shits and giggles. My bosses are cool, but they may only be cool with the ribbon showing considering I lived through that shit.


Meh...I'm steadily loafing on this idea, but by the end of the year, I'll have made a bit of progress...;)


*drops mic*

Pardon me, but did you know you're an alcoholic?

So my mother told me she was worried I was turning into an alcoholic the other day, to which I replied (quite sarcastically): "I'm not an alcoholic, I'm a drunk...alcoholics go to meetings."

She did not see the humor in that statement.

I tried to explain to her my sleep issues, the horrendous derailment of my life and the thoughts in my head that are slowly driving me mad. Thoughts that only the sweet, sweet nectar of the gods can temporarily kill, but she said I should try therapy instead. No thanks, booze is cheaper. Anyway, I thought I'd post a drink/shot recipe and a song everyday this month (I know, I'm running behind already...natch). Because really, what's the point in hating life while sober?

'Tis the season to be merry...oh wait, that was last month. ;)

Well, let me kick off this madness with something I could desperately use. I give you the...

Mind Eraser
1-1/4 ounce Coffee Liqueur
3/4 ounce Vodka
Splash Club Soda
Build over ice.  Serve with a straw.

Yes...a straw (I don't fuckin' know whose idea it was either, but I'm gonna attempt to do this when I get home).

I'm actually in a half-decent mood today, so I'll accompany this little doozy with a song I'm loving right now. I give you...

Slumber - Original Mix
Steve Forte feat. Lindsey Ray
Tiesto - Club Life

Christmas Time Is Here...

...and I'm spending it alone...again.

*sigh*

Well, I'm not on the verge of offing myself, so I guess that's an improvement from last year. Heh. 

I think I may go the George Costanza route and celebrate Festivus with an airing of grievances. At least my puppy can't destroy a metal pole, Lord knows I know better than to attempt to erect an actual Christmas tree with ornaments and tinsel and whatnot for him to jump into and chew up.

I'm not going back to Vegas either, I basically splurged my entire Christmas bonus last year for that trip and while fun, totally not worth the headache of being broke in January.

This year I'm going to rave as much as possible. I just went to Fall Massive the Saturday following Thanksgiving and had a blast (seriously, I haven't felt so much like my old self since my life took a nosedive into the darkest pits of hell). 

I'm planning on going to a NYE rave up in Bmore and I'm trying to find stuff to attend before then. I really only feel like the old me when I'm raving. Maybe it's the music, maybe it's the crowd (hell, maybe it's the happy pills), or maybe some combination of all three. But whatever it is, it's good therapy. I forget all my troubles for a few blessed hours, I love myself again, and I remember the person I used to be. It's been so long since I've been the old me and it's refreshing to see the effect I have on my fellow ravers (I am a love magnet...I had several people come up to me at Massive to say they loved me and give me a hug---and a few free drinks, tee-hee--all the while ignoring the people I was with until I turned to them to make an introduction). 

A dear friend of mine once told me that my mood makes the party, that folks feel like smiling when they see me smiling and the fact that I'm happy seems to make things that much better (and for the record, he was sober when he said this lol). That's not me being conceited, but sometimes I notice how the room changes with my mood. Kind of bittersweet, I don't always feel like being happy and sometimes I really resent how my friends take offense to me not wanting to be bubbly all the damn time. I'm a person dammit! My life sucks sometimes...let me be upset for five minutes before I revert to fucking entertaining you!

Oy...things need to start looking up or I need to be raving every weekend because I can't do another year in this rut...I just can't. If I find myself in this same position another year from now, no amount of booze or pills will save me from myself, I'm tired.

I leave you with my new favorite DJ, Skrillex...the name of this track is so apropos right now.

*drops mic*

Ink blot...

I love tattoos.

My ink is an expression of the essence of who I am.

Ok, that sounded a little extra...but you get what I'm saying, right? I love the body art I have and I chose each piece carefully.

I never understood why some people are so against tattoos (religious reasons excluded). I get that too many on a woman can look trashy, but still, ink can be so beautiful if done correctly. I wish I could get a sleeve, they're so intricate and the good ones show the true care and creativity of the artist who put it on you. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, I'd still like to be able to wear an evening gown one day without looking like a billboard in east LA after Cinco de Mayo), I can't get one myself. Not just because of the aforementioned plans of going somewhere nice enough that I'd like to look like the lady my mother raised me to be, but Corporate America doesn't take too kindly to art you can't cover up (and long sleeved blouses 365 days a year is not an option)...plus, I hate pain, like A LOT. So, I'm content with the three pieces I have now.

But oh do I wish I could get something fantastic going down my left arm...

random poem

what is this place that we find ourselves in
floating on a thought of what could've been
unsure of our footing
lost in the abyss of normality and the mundane
searching for a new tomorrow
a fresh start
hope for the end of the lonely nights
faith in a brighter day

yeah...maybe next lifetime.

DONE.

I'm so done with people. Period. Friends are for the birds, people only give a shit about you when you can be of assistance to them. It's all good though, it's nice to finally see where everyone stands. I'm about to fall off the cliff and the darkness is terrifying...and I don't have any way to prevent it. But it's ok, I'll be ok, that's what everyone says all the time. But you know what? I'm tired, I'm beaten and I don't have any any fight left in me...and I don't need anyone's damn pity about it. This blog is just a tool to get my feelings off my chest, I don't want anyone to think that I'm looking for pity. Fuck pity. Pity aint never put a roof over my head. I'm so tired...I wish I could take a vacation from reality.

*drops mic*

Meditations on Turning 8...by Lisa Simpson

"I had a cat named Snowball, she died! She died! Mom said she was sleeping, she lied! She lied! Why oh why is my cat dead? Couldn't that Chrysler've hit me instead?"

I jest.

I said goodbye to my 20's this past Friday...hello 30 and screw you cancer, I made it another year!

Amazingly, I'm not ready to jump off a cliff over it. I welcome this new year and everything (good) that will come with it (I grudgingly accept the bullshit that will certainly pepper my future...heh). I've come to a few good realizations about life and how I approach it...and I'm happy with the space I'm occupying in this world now.

My "it's complicated" shocked the hell out of me and decided to act like a boyfriend...I even got a cake (it was good too...but I only had a small piece).

Courtesy of Mr. Jadidi Kalantari

I went out dancing with my besties...correction, I was dragged out dancing. But I had a lot of fun (note: if you're in the DC area and you're a former raver like myself, check out Lima Lounge on Friday nights...the music is cute). The pièce de résistance was after the club...my friend wanted to get a slice of pizza, so we stopped at a shop down the street. Upon entering the store, this is what greeted us:

Your man had on deck shoes...deck shoes...and he pissed himself. He fails at life.

All in all, I had a great night. One thing I do know...I'm too old for the club. I don't knock any other members of the 30 and over club, but it's no longer for me, I need to cut that shit short...it isn't cute anymore. Starscape will be my last...and it really doesn't even count since it's being held outside lol.

Now, on to saving for my next Vegas trip...I cannot wait, I wish I had the money right now because I'd be on the next thing smoking to McCarran. The besties and I are making the trip out this time, kinda didn't feel like flying solo second time around (and I was threatened with certain death if I took this trip alone again). We're shooting for mid-May...I think I should stop drinking until then so I can give my liver some time to build up some resistance to the assault Mr. Daniels will inflict once I touch down on Nevada soil (edit: who am I kidding? I'll be drunk on the flight..DJM, the older I've gotten, the more I've realized that a plane is nothing more than an overgrown Pringles can with wings 30k feet in the air...yeah, how safe do you feel flying now?)

 *drops mic*

Stairway to where...?

I'm sitting at the base of the steps...more aptly, I'm recovering from my fall at the base of the steps.

I don't recognize the person in the mirror anymore. That scares me a bit. I can't believe how much I've changed in such a short period of time. I'm not mired in delusion, I know how I got here...but "why am I here?" is the question that really chaps my ass. 

I will be 30 in less than two weeks. This is not where I should be in my life on the eve of the death of my formative years...this is my worst nightmare realized. I should be making school lunches and going over the monthly budget with my husband...not sitting at my computer in my empty house at 1 am whining on my blog while waiting for my laundry to dry.

What the bloody fucking hell happened to my life? I was on the right path and then all of a sudden...crash and burn.

I can't seem to get my bearings. Granted, I have a lot to recover from...but this is getting ridiculous. I shouldn't be this far away from the point where my life took a nosedive into hell and still be so aimless. And I realize this is a serious issue for me...but I can't seem to get right. I'm trying (somewhat), but I keep getting set back. I'm not delusional enough to believe that I'm being slighted by God...I just fail to understand what I did to deserve a karmic smackdown this severe. I'm by no means perfect, but I've racked my brains for the last 3 years trying to figure out what I did and can't come up with a thing.

No, I don't have selective memory. lol;)

I do, however, choose not to buy into the happy pill craze. I've tried them before on the advice of a totally useless therapist (sidenote: how is it helpful to constantly talk about what's bothering you to someone? i keep that crap somewhat repressed for my own sanity...and you want me to talk about it? every week? once the session is over, I can't stop thinking about what's bothering me for the rest of the day. and I'm supposed to pay you for that? thanks...i think not. /end rant), but it didn't make me happy, it just made me forget about my troubles until the late hours of the night. So I self-medicate. And I don't give a damn who has a problem with that. Cheap...and I feel great. Whoever said that drinking solves nothing can kiss my ass. I go to work, I do my job and I come home and have a drink. I'm not driving drunk. I'm not being a public nuisance, I'm minding my business in my house with the added bonus of the general public not being bothered by the sight of my miserable ass.

I'm not pining for the past or the never-to-be-realized future I once looked forward to. I'm not a martyr, just disappointed. Shit happens...and you just have to learn to adjust. So I sit in my empty home and enjoy my drink and wait...for what? I have no idea....  

Aw hell, screw it, life aint fair... and that's never gonna change.

*drops mic*

Damn...I'm lazy

It's been over 2 months since I've posted anything and so much has happened in the interim that I feel somewhat ashamed of myself. So...let's hit it!

1. I went to Vegas for Christmas

Yep, after my maudlin "Christmas is Canceled" post, I had a few cocktails and booked a flight to LV on a whim at 4am. It was pretty dumb (that ticket cost almost $600), but I am so glad I did it. I had an awesome time...all by myself. Booze (adult slurpees with optional Stoli shots? yes please, thank you), gambling (I broke even!), partying...and a nice little surprise: I stayed at Bally's, they comped one of my nights, upgraded my room so I got a really good view of the Bellagio fountains AND there was some Persian music convention in my hotel so it was basically wall-to-wall Persian men all weekend...I thought my plane must have crashed somewhere over Utah and I was dead and obviously in heaven with all the eye candy around me. Heh...needless to say, I was sad to leave Sin City on Sunday. It was cool to spend Christmas day doing something completely different than the usual (although, I did catch A Christmas Story on the tv while I was getting dressed--seriously, it's just not Christmas without watching that movie at least once). I'm now planning a return trip with my best friends for our birthdays next month. 

 Seriously...those "adult" slurpees were the bees' knees

2. I broke up with (and got back together with...then broke up again...then got back together again) my "it's complicated"

Sigh...why can't I quit him? Why can't he quit me? What is it about us that we can't seem to treat each other right, but at the same time, we can't seem to do well apart? Lord help the both of us. Every time we get in an argument, "it's the end" and "we're done"...and then we get back together. I'm giving this one final shot, if it works out, great--but if not, this really will be the last time...until we get back together again. We're getting a dog...we joked about how he's now my de-facto baby-daddy. I want a bull mastiff (I like big dogs), he wants a terrier (he likes small dogs)...we're in trouble. I'd compromise, but I've never seen a terrier-mastiff in my life (and I'm not sure I'd like to see such an abomination lol).

3. I'm moving

I hate packing. That is all.

I have more to say...but I've kinda run out of steam for the moment.

*drops mic*

Christmas is cancelled...

I love Christmas. Not because of the gifts, the music, the weather, the decorations, the warm nights with someone I love just enjoying the season...but all of it combined. There's something about the holiday season that always cheers me up.

But this year...fuck Christmas.

This is the first Christmas that I'm spending alone. My "it's complicated" who played understudy for the absentee husband last year is gone and I don't feel like hanging out with my family or friends (everyone in my age range are either married with kids or happily single with kids). I just can't do all the family "fun" when I'm so miserable. I hate to be the wet blanket and lately I am having a hard time masking my misery, so I'm choosing to opt out of the festivities in in an effort not to ruin everyone's good time.

No, I'm not a martyr and no it isn't some lame cry for help or attention.

I am honestly looking forward to spending this time alone. In past years, I couldn't wait until the holiday season, but when I moved out of the apartment my ex and I shared, I trashed my Christmas tree. Not just because I hated it (I wanted a white fake tree--every since I was a kid I wanted that white tree, I know it looks extra fake, but I wanted it nonetheless--but the ex insisted on a more realistic-looking tree, never mind the fact that he was Baha'i and only adopted the holiday for the gifts and food), but because I didn't feel that my house was a home anymore. Homes need Christmas trees, houses don't. I mean, why jack up my light bill if I'm the only one who's gonna enjoy it? Sure, the lights would dance off the bottles of booze that I now hold near and dear (don't judge me...you try living with the thoughts in my head that only alcohol will temporarily kill), but that isn't reason enough to screw my January budget.

This year, I'm thinking about taking a trip for Christmas. More importantly, I think I'm going to do something that truly makes me happy these days...drinking, gambling, wallowing in self-pity and singing Christmas carols. So where can all of that self-destructive fun come together so seamlessly? Vegas baby!

Ok, I was way too optimistic there. I took a look at flights out of DCA to McCarran anywhere near Christmas and the rates are ridiculous. Not that I expected anything other than that...oh well, looks like I'll be driving up to Atlantic City again. Hey, at least that'll extend my gambling budget.

I originally had a plan to sit in an empty hotel room drinking almost to the point of unconsciousness and then just blow my brains out...but that seemed too maudlin and overdone. Still runs through my head, but I'd like to continue properly earning my seat in the hottest corner of hell. As I sat on my couch last night staring at the tv (I don't even watch tv anymore, lord only knows why I had it on), it hit me exactly how lonely I am. I'm a smartass and I like being able to make comments at tv shows with someone...and I miss that. As it is, I hate being in the house because I'm here by myself. My fish are beautiful, but they don't talk back.

I don't pray anymore. Not because I've lost faith (oh, I know something's up there...who else could be enjoying themselves watching the trainwreck that my life has become), but because whenever I pray for something, the exact opposite happens. I got hip to that a few years ago and started praying for the opposite of what I needed/wanted...but still got the shaft. But I read the following prayer on CL earlier and it seemed like if I tried it, this last-ditch effort might just turn into a Christmas miracle (those happen, right? for my sake--and sanity--I hope they do). So here goes....come on big money, big money, no whammy!

Dear God - Please hear my prayer. Please take the pain, anger, and longing away. Please remove him from my heart and mind. I can't take this anymore, and I must turn to you now. Please also hear my prayer, and bring me a man who loves me for ME only, and nothing else. Just please remove this ghost of a man from my heart and mind...or at least take the pain and suffering that has festered inside me for the last year. Please. Amen.

Alice in Chains - Rooster

What I'm listening to right now...

I'm Black Enough...

I read a blog post about Jesse Jackson telling Soledad O'Brien that she wasn't "Black enough" on O Hell Nawl (awesome blog, check them out) this afternoon and it really got me to thinking about the topic. I'd briefly touched on this subject last month, but I felt I needed to post here what I commented there. Enjoy my rant! lol :p

November 11, 2010 at 2:52 pm

 A few things:

1. Jesse Jackson AND Al Sharpton (well-deserved honorable mention) are jackasses and have become more of a hindrance to the progressive Black movement than help.

2. Soledad O’Brien is Black? Really? Color me ignorant because I thought she was Latino and White. I know we come in different shades and whatnot, but the name through me off.

3. Our people can be more judgmental and excluding than most hardcore bigots out there. You have to have an extra thick skin if you’re mixed and/or light-complexioned. (For the record: not all of us light-skinned girls are stuck up or think we’re better than our darker-toned sisters. I think all shades of Black are beautiful. If you have a complex about your color, I empathize, but please don’t project it onto me, deal with it. Hey, at least no one questions your “Blackness”.)

4. Jesse Jackson is a jackass.

I grew up hearing I wasn’t Black enough. I got called a traitor to my people because I married outside my race. F*ck outta here with that foolishness. I still hear I’m not Black enough…and it still irks me. I always ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean. So I’m an “oreo” because I use proper English? Because I’m educated? Because rap, r&b, and go-go aren’t the end-all be-all of music for me? Because I love Rock Band and Guitar Hero? Because I read Stephen King instead of Zane? Because I refuse to act a fool in public or be ghetto to the nth degree? Why can’t we as a people be multi-faceted…must we all like the same things and be so damn cookie-cutter? I should hope not.

I don’t get it and never will. My mom is Slaus’ complexion and she has heard she was siditty (sp?) and wasn’t Black enough all her life because she worked hard to live better and hatin-ass negus will always be hatin-ass negus. People actually tried to shade her for getting a Masters degree…WTF?!?! I used to care and it used to bother me, but she always told me that all those folks who throw shade and are so busy “keeping it real” are being left in the dust in life because they spend all their time worrying about the Joneses instead of trying to keep up with them (not in the elitist sense, but striving to do better in order to live better).

Dammit, why can’t we all get along?

*drops mic*

Paying dust...

I have a bit of a problem...I'm a lonely, bitter old crone. My "it's complicated" has gone from a band-aid on a stab wound to salt in an open wound. Let me rap it down to you (Cheech and Chong reference!).

So, I'm currently seeing this guy. He's a sweetheart when he wants to be, but he can also be a bit of a bastard when--oh, i dunno--the sun shines (or whatever else little petty reason he can muster up to validate his temper tantrums). I put up with his BS because for a minute, I thought I had found a better version of what I'd lost. He brings that familiarity that I so desperately miss. Now, I'm no spring chicken and I realize a rebound relationship hardly ever pans out, but the ends no longer justify the means. I don't want to argue, I don't want to be mad, I just want to spend some quality time and be happy enjoying each others' company. But more and more it seems like I'm concerned with our best interests and he's just concerned with his own.

I wish I would accept that.

I've come to the realization that if I spend half of my time miserable and fighting, I'm not really improving my situation. So, I've started to stop caring. When he wants to argue, I pay him no attention. When he gets in a little tizzy and prepares to go home, I no longer try to stop him. What's the point? So I can end up apologizing for something I didn't even do? Nah son, I'm over it. The honeymoon phase is long over. Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy our time together when we're in a good place, but I've learned to switch off when things go sour for the evening. The question now becomes: how long do I even bother to hope for a good evening? 

Some day it will be my turn again. Although I'm sure I'll die of a massive stroke the day after I find happiness. What can I say? I'm cynical, I've been screwed over, I know just how cruel life can be, so I broke my rose-colored glasses and took a long hard look at reality.

You're damned if you do and damned if you don't.

*drops mic*

Lil Wayne - Runnin ft. Shanell

What I'm listening to right now...

DIVA!!!!

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, so I thought I'd pay tribute to the baddest survivor to ever beat her feet across this rock.

This is my mama. I love her to bits. She drives me mad, but it's her job. 

At 24, on her way to JFK's inaugural ball...she knew she was hot shit.  

My mother is celebrating her 10th year in remission. She's a tough old broad...and that's one of the things I respect and love the most about her. 

If anyone's out there and wants to throw the spotlight on someone close to them who's either fought and won, fighting now, or fought and lost the battle against the soul-crushing disease known as cancer (all types welcome, not restricted to breast cancer)...speak on it. 

*drops mic*