The Things Men Do

Men are loving, caring, funny and sweet.  And while us women love them with all our hearts, their foolish and shocking antics leave us with lots to talk about.  It’s never a dull moment when a man is around, and we can’t help but to sit back and laugh, roll our eyes, shake our heads or drop our jaws at  their crazy occurrences of ridiculousness.

• Picks his toes, flicks it and measures the velocity of the flick…and to top it off, he’ll most likely smell the toe debris before throwing it behind the couch in the trash.

• Stays up til 2 am to watch The Godfather when he knows he has to be at work at 8am.

• Takes you on a “date” to  an all-in-one peep show/sex shops/adult video store–his idea of a romantic night.

• Places his  hands in his pockets to scratch his balls–a suave move in his book and a head-shaking one in ours.

• Changes the channel or close the laptop really quickly when he hears footsteps approaching.

• Hops up off the couch with super fast speed as you walk through the doors to portray that he’s been doing something other than being a lazy ass couch potato .

• Washes his hands and accidentally splashes water on the lower part of his shirt creating an appearance  that he’s pee’d on himself.

• Lives vicariously through video games–Madden Superbowl games are taken seriously.  You would think he was personally on the field.

• Brags about his driving skills when you both know he failed driver’s ed–twice.

• Offers to baby sit–his own child(ren).

• Buys a purse out of the truck of a stranger’s car…and then offer it up to his special lady as a birthday present.

• Tries to wipe with the strands of toilet paper that are glued to the roll.

• And then refuses to replace the empty toilet paper roll with a new one.

No Bitchin’ For One Day

I tried not bitchin’ for one full day.  And by mid-morning I felt like I was on some type of sabbatical quest to unearth a lost treasure.  It just seemed impossible.  At days end my blood pressure was categorically high, my fuse was short and my patience was worn thin; holding my tongue all day was like eating soup with a fork.  Here’s the background on what inspired my ambitious journey:  I can be seen as an aggressive person, an attribute I actually take pride in.  It’s a great way to weed out the simple-minded people who try to bring weakness into your life.  I consider myself  strong not feeble; mouthy not timid, assertive not passive, confident not self-loathing. So when it was brought to my attention that I push people away with my “hard-to-swallow” personality, I decided to test myself.  Be a tad docile for a day and see where it gets me.  So basically no bitchin’.  (xanax time)

Ok, great here we go:  The morning started off well.  Nothing too overwhelming happened…I mean I could have griped about the toothpaste residue in the bathroom sink, or his drawers on the bathroom floor, or the wet foot prints in front of the shower door– but I didn’t.  I just cleaned up the mess and threw his dirty laundry in the basket.  I could have got started when sweetness demanded I cut the crust off her sandwich–a grievance I guess she’d harbored since the afternoon before when she had to peel off  her own damn crust—*gasps* oh so earth shattering, but I replied with a “yes sweetie”.    Then in my downtime I got on the computer to check out my social networks.  And while I wanted to honestly and bluntly comment on some of the fuckery that I was seeing online, I knew I had an ultimate goal in mind and people who I don’t even care about weren’t going to take my eye off the prize.

And at the end of the day….I wish I could say I felt enlightened, relaxed, overcome with joy, but I didn’t… I felt the effin’ same.  In fact I felt worse, because I couldn’t be who I truly wanted to be.  All of the suppressed bitchin’ created a negative energy field for me.  There’s a reason women like me can’t hold their tongue, we will  freaking stroke out if we did.  I, personally don’t bitch just to bitch, my goal is to make everything better ( isn’t this such a distorted way of thinking).  So much to the dismay of my husband I’m back to the old me and the “no bitchin’” me is long gone.  I’m sure the hubs thought this little experiment was going to last a few days maybe even weeks to which I reply “chilllle please!!”

It’s About Time To Diversify

Sundays are my narci days (short for narcissist) because the world revolves around me.  I watch Lifetime TV and LMN all day, I paint my fingernails, bake cookies with my mini’s, call my girlfriends and just chill out.  It’s all about me pampering myself and doing things I love.  Because I think cooking is a pain in the ass, the hubs cooks or we go out to eat.  It’s just a day to relax before the chaos of the new week commences.

Detouring from my traditional home entertainment, this Sunday I’d decided to go see Eat Pray Love, the film adaption of Elizabeth Gilbert’s best-selling memoir of post-divorce globe-trotting.  Wouldn’t we all love to just throw caution to the wind and embark on our own adventurous journey to have an Eat Pray Love moment?  But then I read a review titled Single-Minded: ‘White Girl Problems’ and my joy and anticipation for the movie quickly changed to enlightenment and annoyance.  I thought: here we go again, yet another white girl angst movie for me to see, just like the kind I watch every Sunday on my beloved Lifetime Network.

Though I am an avid viewer, I’ve always thought it was about time to add some diversity to the programming on Lifetime TV and LMN;  featuring movies with multicultural actors and plots that reflect issues that affect minority women. Shoot, I personally have an arsenal of material I could use to write a script; between my friends and family I could offer some dysfunctional yet riveting material.  I’ve even got some “ripped-from-the-headlines” stories to offer, maybe I should submit.

I was glad to hear Lifetime had tapped Oscar-nominated actress Taraji P. Henson to star in Taken From Me, a true story about Tiffany Rubin’s daring 2008 rescue of her seven-year-old son, Kobe who was taken by his father and was illegal whisked away to her ex’s native South Korea.  With no support from authorities and no money, Rubin reached out to the non profit organization The American Association for Lost Children to help her retrieve her son.   Not only is this story a must-see it’s also empowering, shifting from the typical Lifetime format of damsels in distress. 

It’s so important for me to see multiculturalism on the networks I support and in the movies I watch.  I know it’s not a simple black and white answer that will solve the problems surrounding the lack of diversity on TV,  but  it’s long overdue that the networks we support start reflecting the true diversity in our society.

So Fantasia’s the Only One to Blame?

Not to beat a dead horse but I’ve been simmering about the Fantasia debacle since the ish hit the fan a few weeks ago.  I’m annoyed with the “she should have known better” basis for everyone’s new-found hate for her.  I’d be the first to admit she was wrong for her illicit affair with a married man.  She entered into a messy situation with her lover Antwan Cook, whose name she tattooed on her shoulder (idiot) but later got it removed, and she needs to woman-up to every ounce of heartache that comes with it.  In a blink of an eye, America’s soulful sweetheart has been berated and forced to wear a Scarlett letter and has jeopardized the empire she has struggled to build and maintain.

The North Carolina law that’s been cast to the forefront of Fantasia’s not-so-fairytale life is “alienation of affection”, a law that dates back to a time in our sad history when women were considered property, and if a man had an affair with another man’s wife it would be considered stealing and punishable by law.  Typically used for and by men, however the law is not gender specific, therefore wives have equal rights under this law.  North Carolina is one of 13 states with this law on the books.  I first heard of this law a few months back when this scorned wife sued her husband’s lover for $9 mil resulting in the wife winning the case.

Fantasia’s PR nightmare has had its share of theories:

–She was set up:  the lover and his wife knew they lived in a “alienation of affection” state therefore they used him as bait to set her up to sue her for her money.  To further corroborate this story, it was reported that a few months back when they were supposedly separated, the lover and his wife were seen at a social event together but refused to take photographs as a couple.

–It’s all for publicity:  days after her alleged suicide attempt Fantasia and her lover were seen being videotaped and followed by a camera crew.  It’s believed the camera crew was for her VH1 reality TV show Fantasia For Real set to air in September.

–She fell for a hustler:  reports have surfaced that he is a licensed realtor and would frequently take her to homes he claimed were his but were really properties he was responsible for selling.  There ‘s also the curiosity surrounding his real occupation because he also worked full-time at a T-Mobile store–this is how he apparently met Fantasia last year.

As each day brings dramatic new development , I have yet to read or hear of mainstream media and blogs ridiculing her lover in all this.  Yes, I know she’s the star therefore she warrants the media attention.  But with all these “two-cents” that have been spewed at “home-wreckin’ Tasia”, I’m having a hard time finding any comments about how this man has failed his responsibilities as a husband and father.  We have inadvertently given attention to a man who betrayed his vows, wife and kids.  And in today’s reality show happy–any news is good news–I need to make a name for myself world, his stock has basically sky-rocketed while Fantasia’s could plummet.  He’s just as a disgrace as she is because they are both wrong.  And in my opinion, he’s the loser for disappointing his family.  I guarantee this will not be the last we see of this man.  I’m sure he’ll pimp-out his 15 minutes of fame as all media/attention-whores do.

I’m sure Tasia has learned her lesson and is on to a new mission, finding a North Carolina politician to lobby to repeal this law–I’m sure every mistress/jump-off/secret lover in NC will thank her.

//

Happy First Day of First Grade Sweetness

“Mom, I’m not a baby anymore.  My grade has a number now.  I am officially a big kid.”  Spoken like a true scholastic diva.  My baby who’s been by my side 24/7 every 104 days of summer vacation, was sent off to her first day of first grade.  Off to conquer her academics, make new friends and compete to be the number one box topper in her class.  The sending off was bittersweet, I was told my crying and lingering is quite embarrassing,  so her dad escorted her.     She and I have been preparing for this for a couple of weeks now.  She had to have the sparkling pencils with the feathers on the tip.  The paint that offers glitter and pastel colors.  And the hand sanitizer and lotion from victoria’s secret.   I would be remiss if I failed to mention the emphasis that was put on her artsy nail design, wardrobe, jewelry, sandals, backpack and lipgloss shade–all the things that makes back-to-school a fun and entertaining experience for any girl.

I’m sure she can’t wait to play mother hen to the younger kids of school, meet the new teachers and principal and catch up with her old friends.  If she were a beauty queen Miss Congeniality would be her title.  If she were a author Harriet the Spy would be her muse.  And if she were literary character Junie Beatrice Jones would be her personality.  I’m so happy to have such a smart, creative, funny and sassy girl to call my own…she is really a girl after my own heart.  Love you sweetness–Make me proud!!

I had to sneak a little note into her lunch, she read it before she left.  I cried while she read it and she looked at me with this “see this is why you can’t drop me off at school” look.  Man I can’t believe my baby isn’t a baby anymore.

Happy Birthday Dad

Birthday’s are such a great thing.  To have one day dedicated to all things about you is awesome!!  So I wanted to send a special birthday shoutout to the love of my life the hubs…He’s an awesome guy, phenomenal dad and talented artist.  I truly love everything about him–well with an exception to his  fungi-covered feet.  He loves me when I’m at my best and encourages me when I’m at my worst.  Could a girl ask for anything more?  Happy birthday punkin (he hates it when I call him this)

Electricians are $60 Switch Flippers

Early the other morning the electricity in certain parts of the house cut off.  Because I’m not a handy person and I was home alone with a boat load of kids, I freaked out.  I called and texted everyone under the sun to get advice until someone–I think it was the hubs–said call the energy company.  I called, placed a work order and waited 65 whole treacherous minutes for them to arrive.  We had no outlet power, microwave, toaster, COFFEE MAKER, lights or air conditioning.  We were in the midst of an emergency.

The energy company came out, checked the voltage and ensured me there was no outage in my area,  ”it sounds like an electrical problem” the energy man advised.  Holy crap an “electrical problem” sounds expensive and with a house full of kids and me with no coffee and the inside of the house reaching 82 degrees I was quickly in panic mode.

Knowing I needed the issue resolved I called an electrician.  Whatever the cost I would just have to pay and pick up stripping on the side to help recoup my money (look, stripping has become a slighting respected profession–don’t judge).  Luckily Handy Manny was in my area so it didn’t take long before he was at my house.  Relieved, I thought my problems would quickly be solved and I could make my coffee feed the kids.   So I tell him and his two apprentices about my spooky electrical problem and he goes to the fuse box and checks it out.  I just knew it was something serious.  But within thirty seconds at the fuse box everything cut back on.  Elated my problems were solved, I did a little dance and said:

Me: Wow you are really fast and efficient thank you so much.  What was the problem?

Elect: Come in here and I’ll show ya.  You see this, this is the main switch and once this is flipped everything below it is off. That’s why you had no power going to all these places *points to switches that were associated with the rooms with no power*

Me: Ok, I feel so silly sorry to make you come here just to flip a switch in my fuse box *shows them the door”

Elec:  Who would you like me to fill out the invoice to?

Me: Wait, what do you mean invoice?

Elec: Well there’s a $60 service call.

Me: For real, do you have any coupons in the telephone book?  I think $60 is an egregious amount of money to pay someone for flipping a switch.  Wouldn’t you agree?

Elec: I understand, how ’bout $30?

Me: *still pissed*  I can’t do $30 either.  I apologize for being difficult but let’s be realistic.  How about $27?

He accepted my counter offer.  Although I was proud of myself I save $33, I was still annoyed and felt hustled.  I was sick to my stomach all day I paid someone $27 to flip a switch.  Just think, I could have bought three packs of bacon and a bottle of Riesling with $27.

Random Ramblings–ADHD Style

Because I suffer from adult ADHD (self-diagnosed via web MD) my mind is always running.  Rarely do I ever complete a thought unless I really have to.  And I normally have multiple  unfinished tasks and thoughts running through my head because I can’t focus on just one. Here are some of the thoughts that consume my mind in just one hour out of the day…these are just little snippets, believe me it  goes on and on (disclaimer–the following consists of some serious topic jumping, hence the randomness of the subject matter):

I went to get my hair done a few weekends ago at the beauty school and the chick asked me if I wanted a wash and blow job. I thought: what the–she needs to realize those are serious words only to be spoken of and/or acted upon when I need some extra housework done around the house.  I’m giggling so hard I’m sure she thinks I’m crazy…I should tell her what she said and how I interpreted it…But wait what’s this chicks name again?

I wonder why I’m so forgetful.  Even simple things I have a hard time remembering, like people’s names.  More chances than not I’m going to forget a name within the first few seconds of meeting that person.  Because I really did want to know the chicks names I said: “hey give me your number so I can put it in my cell phone…how do you properly spell your name?” To which she replied: “k-a-t-e”….me: “oh, great thanks”.  *looks into purse to put phone back*  This purse is so junky, and so is that cabinet above the stove.  I need to clean it out.

Why do I try to rearrange clutter?  Organizing the clutter in my life actually means I move shit from one corner to a dark and lonely space in the back of my closet…out of sight out of mind.  (while stuffing shit into the back of the closet, I hear dogs barking)  Why the hell are those dogs barking?

Never leave the kids alone for more than ten minutes or you will have a traumatic experience on your hands with the little shih tzu’s…I still don’t know what those girls did to the dogs, but I do know they’ve got this paranoid side-walk that they do when their around the twinsies.  (I go to put the dogs in the kennel and see a spider on the wall.  I scream.  Get the vacuum cleaner and suck the spider up with the hose.  Then I think to myself: “I need to call Billy the Exterminator.  Actually I think I can do this myself and everyone will be so proud.”

Went to home depot to get some anthrax to annihilate the spiders in my house.  So I asked one of the workers with the ‘may I help you?’ tags on and he replies “I don’t work here I work at Walmart.  I’m just a regular customer.”  He laughs and I think “Well take that damn vest and name tag off…you’re confusing people!”

I finally find a home depot associate to which he replies:  ”um, I don’t think they package anthrax to be sold in retail stores.”

Me: “You don’t think? (this man is probably thinking I’m some sort of threat to homeland security, yet I insist he finds out) Can you find out please?

Associate:  ”No I’m for sure they don’t.”

Me: “Can I special order it and have it delivered to my house?”

Associate: “I don’t know (clearly he’s uncomfortable) but this Bayer spider killer is the best on the market. Try that.”

See what I mean…random and crazy.  And this how I function every minute of the day.  So I’ve taken up yoga to help me concentrate and to ease my rambunctious brain activity… if that doesn’t work I’m trying Prozac and then I wonder if I would qualify for disability if I’m professional diagnosed…and if I qualify for disability I wonder if I can get a handicap sticker?  A handicap sticker would…(and it I never stops)

Close Encounters of the Crackhead Kind

Have you ever been in such close proximity to a crackhead that you felt uncomfortable, scared or just plain nervous?  And I’m not talking about that resident addict in your family (cause I have one too–what’s up aunt pookie) I’m talking about a possibly irrational crackhead fresh off the street.

Well I have and boy was it an experience. After getting my hair done I stopped in Popeye’s to get some chicken–I had just spent 3 hours in the beauty shop and looked too pretty to be slaving over a stove. I go in, order and like 88% of my Popeye’s experiences I’m waiting for some fresh chicken because apparently they ran out chicken, *insert shrug here* I’m sure it’s happened to you.

Anyway some crackhead (CH) came into the restaurant and decided to sit at the same table as me. Before I could look up from texting I immediately smelled a pungent concoction of musk and whiskey; then I see these blood-shot red eyes beaming down on me. I got nervous. So I stood up to move out the way because I was in between the CH and the window–I was cornered.

When I tried to move he lifted his arm and whispered “No, you don’t have to go. Stay right there.” I thought: “Oh boy, I don’t need this shit right now. I just got my hair done. I’m ready to go home and pop open some wine and enjoy this nice meal! WTF…where’s a taser when you need one”. Clearly there was a look of  sheer panic on my face. The cashier noticed my distress and she yelled:

“Derrick, Craig is messing with Anya” (Yes, I patronize Popeye’s so much they know me by my first name in fact they know my whole family)

Derrick, the manager of the restaurant, responded to the call for help by rushing to the front of the store and yelled:

“No, Craig! OUT! You do not mess with her. Get out now!”

To which Craig, the CH, obliged and walked outside with Derrick. Clearly Craig is a repeat offender but this time he crossed the line by messing with me (Popeye’s takes care of their VIP’s–don’t be jealous) you could see them outside arguing back and forth and then they both came back in. Craig yelled:

“I JUST WANT TO COOL OFF. I’LL BE GONE IN A MINUTE!”

At this point I’m at the counter getting my food bagged up. I was so ready to go I almost told them to just throw the chicken pieces in my purse so I could leave. Forget a box, bag, condiments and anything else. I was ready to get the hell out of there. As I was leaving I saw Craig following behind me, so I rushed to my car. As I opened the car door, the CH turned in the opposite direction and ran down the street with lighting fast speed, I mean you would have thought this dude was Usain Bolt as fast as he was running.

Relieved all imminent danger had ceased, I sat in the car, looked in my rear view mirror and watched this man sprint down the street and all I could do was laugh. This silly fool had me so scared and now he’s running down the street in 105 degree weather without a destination. I was so drained from the roller coaster of emotions I just experienced I couldn’t wait to get to my house–my mother and little bro were there babysitting my kids–to tell about my encounter.

So I walk into the house, chicken in tow, and tried to explain:

Me: Hey you won’t believe what just happened to me. I was just hemmed up in Popeye’s by a crackhead.

My little bro: For real? Where’s my chicken nuggets? Did you get me barbecue sauce? (All he can think about after I tell him I almost got assaulted is his damn chicken nuggets?)

I attempt to tell the story.

Me: …Yes ma this crackhead tried to attack me (of course the story has to be exaggerated and dramatically re-enacted) and hemmed me into a corner and Derrick the manager yelled “Chris, no not her”!

Ma: (In her notoriously nonchalant tone) Oh Chris the crackhead was messing with you? Yeah he’s up there all the time–you’ll be alright. Not to change the subject but your hair looks fierce!

Wha-what the heck is going on here? Did anyone not notice I was almost battered, could have been carjacked and kidnapped by a crackhead? Apparently no one in my family cared…I’m just glad I survived unscathed and in tact…and with a fierce hair do.