Thirty PLUS!!

So it is true, in a couple of months, I will reach the ripe old age of thirty. I'm pretty geeked about it too. I thought I'd hate being this age, but I love it. Needless to say, there are going to be a couple of dope parties to commemorate the occasion, but that's for another post.
Moving on, I got paid yesterday, so I decided to buy myself a few cute things to wear to work. Granted, I can wear whatever I want for work (WOOHOO!!) but I still want to dress a little business casual (except for when we hit the playground). I hit Macy's first and of course I couldn't find any pants to fit my awkward shape, but I did find a shirt that I'd liked that was on sale for $25. Man, that number stuck with me. Twenty-five dollars isn't a lot of money at all for a shirt, but I'm still used to getting all of my clothes from the super sale rack. You know, like $8 for a GAP shirt. Twenty-five dollars for a shirt just seemed so steep. However, I'm trying to buy clothes that reflect my age (sad to admit, I still dress like a hippy, and only one year ago did I stop buying clothes from the juniors section). I checked GAP after Macy's, and GAP continued to suck the same way it has for the last 3 years (what the hell is going on with that store anyway?) I didn't really feel like combing the mall anymore, so I hit up my tried and true, Target. I found a few nice shirts and a couple of pairs of capris, perfect for work. Needless to say, my capris were on sale.
The reason I was so stuck on the cost of my $25 shirt was that a while ago, on the radio, I heard the hosts talking about something they'd read online about things that a woman should stop doing by the time she was thirty. One of the things that stuck with me was that she should stop being cheap. And I totally agree. Now not being cheap doesn't mean that you blow your money as soon as you get it, it means that you learn to appreciate the finer things. Four-dollar wine is no longer the norm (unless you get a good bottle on a great steal). It means that you buy real furniture. It means that you can love name brands, even if you only come across it at a major bargain. It means that if someone asks you for your favorite restaurant, you don't name one that has a value meal.
It actually amazed me how many of those things I totally agreed with. And I'm proud to say that I'm so over most of those things (although my daddy will always be my daddy, list or no list!) So anyway, I got online and I found two lists of where a woman should be when she reaches 30.

30 THINGS EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
and SHOULD KNOW BY THE TIME SHE'S 30

BY 30, YOU SHOULD HAVE:

1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you've come.
2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
4. A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you're not ashamed to be seen carrying.
5. A youth you're content to move beyond.
6. A past juicy enough that you're looking to forward to retelling it in your old age.
7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help fund it.
8. An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.
9. A résume that is not even the slightest bit padded.
10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill and a black lace bra.
12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
13. The belief that you deserve it.
14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don't get better after 30.
15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship and all those other facets of life that do get better.


BY 30, YOU SHOULD KNOW:

1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.
2. How you feel about having kids.
3. How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
4. When to try harder and when to walk away.
5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn't like to happen next.
6. The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best tailor in town.
7. How to live alone, even if you don't like to.
8. How to take control of your own birthday.
9. That you can't change the length of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.
10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it's over.
11. What you would and wouldn't do for money or love.
12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.
13. Who you can trust, who you can't and why you shouldn't take it personally.
14. Not to apologize for something that isn't your fault.
15. Why they say life begins at 30.

30 Things Every Woman Should Quit Doing By 30

1. Buying clothes from the junior section.
2. Forgetting her parents’ birthdays.
3. Making out with her BFFs at bars for attention.
4. Making out with her boyfriend at bars for attention.
5. Filling her bed with stuffed animals (really, even one is too many).
6. Carrying a torch for anyone she hasn’t seen in the last five years.
7. Rebelling against her parents for the sake of rebelling against her parents.
8. Declaring an entire gender “all jerks.”
9. Holding a grudge against anyone who wronged her in high school.
10. Skipping regular gyno exams.
11. Going to bed without washing and moisturizing her face.
12. Being “that person” who had a bit too much to drink at the office party.
13. Crushing on Justin Bieber.
14. Thinking she’s got it all figured out.
15. Calling her father “daddy.”
16. Engaging in sibling rivalry.
17. Trying to get by on her looks.
18. Living paycheck to paycheck.
19. Expecting a man/knight in shining armor to swoop in and save her.
20. Aimlessly jumping from job to job.
21. Using MySpace to pick up guys.
22. Expecting a man to do all the wooing.
23. Wishing she had someone else’s life.
24. Expecting everyone to drop everything because it’s her birthday ...
25. ... or because her “boyfriend” of two weeks dumped her.
26. Measuring her self-worth by a number on the scale.
27. Being cheap.
28. Quitting a job without having a new one lined up first (especially in this economy!).
29. Blaming her mother for all her issues.
30. Romanticizing her 20s.

So anyway, according to these lists, I'm doing a-okay with a $25 shirt. And it looks damned good on me too!

Disappointment

Have you ever wanted something really, really bad? Has something ever been so close to you that you could taste and smell it? But then it's ripped away from you before you can fully enjoy it?
I had that, and now I feel- empty.
I wanted it so badly, but now I'm back to my plain existence. And it's so unfair, because I truly deserve it. Life put up a roadblock that I had nothing to do with. Just a circumstance that was small enough not to matter, yet big enough to keep me away from what I deserved. Sometimes I wonder if my life is supposed to be one set of disappointments after another.
It sure seems like it.

The Saga of Him Pt. 2

So anyway, a while back, I blogged about Him. And I blogged about how much I dig Him and how if things had been a bit different He and I would possibly be We. Well to update Us, a while ago I ran into Him unexpectedly a few weeks ago. His car broke down and he needed a ride home so I offered Him one.

I absolutely love to drive and I didn't want our short visit to end, so I asked if he wanted to continue to ride around and he replied yes. During our ride we talked about relationships and dating and I wanted so badly to look him in his eye and let him know how much he made my heart flutter, but truthfully I was scared. We ended up at one of my favorite parts of the city and we walked around. Before we knew it, we'd been talking for two hours. I didn't want our time to end. He asked how I felt about Him. I confessed that I'm madly attracted to Him, and he admitted to feeling the same way about me. I even admitted that I'd blogged about Him. It's crazy to go from your teens where no one likes you back, to being a woman that actually gets the guy. Anyway, he asked if I'd tell Pookie that we were hanging out. I told Him no. I wanted so badly to kiss Him. I wanted to embrace Him. I wanted to make Him feel as special as he made me feel. We didn't kiss.

We got back in the car and rode around some more. Stevie Wonder played in the background.

"All is fair in love,

Love's a crazy game."

We went back to his place. I sat on the couch. I wanted to. I really wanted to. I knew that he wanted it, but he was a complete gentleman and he didn't remotely force or try anything. After a few minutes, I left. He walked me out to the car and hugged me.

I've been thinking about Him ever since. Sometimes I think that I should just go over there again and do it. Especially days like today. Truth be told, I haven't felt like this about a guy since Pookie and I first got together. It's not often that a person meets someone that has them head over heels like this. It's such a rare feeling that all I can do is bask in the afterglow of our encounter.

I've been on cloud 9 ever since. I can't stop thinking about Him. Yesterday I hung out at the playground with some of the kids I work with, and my mind wandered off to Him and our night together. One of the kids said to me "what are you smiling about?"

Perhaps in about 20 years, she'll understand.

Changes

Last night, my homegirl Nora hit me up and asked me to run her through the neighborhood of the potential home she's about to rent. We went there and actually walked through the house. It was spacious and cozy. She asked me what I thought about it and I told her that if she doesn't want that mofo, if it's still available when my lease is up, I'll take it off of her hands myself.

On the way there, I told her that I've been in the market for furniture and she told me that the Salvation Army has auctions. I looked her square in the eye and said "nope." That's right, no to hand-me-down furniture. I've finally got a job that pays be a handsome amount and when I get my new place, the plan is to put nothing but new furniture in it. I've already started my shopping and I'm so excited about it. This will be the first time in my life that I've bought something big that wasn't a car. But this time, no one is co-signing or anything. That's right, it's MINE.

Nora and I reflected on how we're actually growing up. My last solo apartment was a true shithole, but dammit it was my shithole. Used furniture, cat hair. Man, I miss that place. I even rolled through my old neighborhood, which I dubbed my "Mexican ghetto." It was in the middle of the city and my house was the hang out spot. It wasn't uncommon for people to drop by my home and stay the night because they were too drunk to drive or just didn't want to be alone. While living alone, I let about 7 people crash on my couch at some time or another. And then the pregnancy came and changed every thing up. While with Nora, I contemplated getting an apartment up the street from my old complex, but she urged me to move past my nostalgia and be glad that I could afford an apartment that my parents wouldn't be embarassed to know that I reside in.

Coincidentally enough, I got a call from my friend Anita earlier today. I told her about how excited I am to have my first adult job and how great it feels to have expendable income. I've been working and researching to get Pookie a dope ass birthday present this year. Last year, I got him balloons, 5 Moonpies, and Pumpkin and I drew him a big card. Believe me when I tell you, I'm going to blow that out of the water this year. His birthday is in another month and I'm counting down to reveal it to him. While I'm shopping around to get a good deal, let's just say that I'm about to spend more on him than I've spent on any other man in my life. And I'm glad to do it.

Anyway, I told Anita how I went into a Dollar Tree the other day and I actually spent nearly $9 on crap. That's right, I was able to blow $9 and not kick myself. While I did scold myself for spending money on stuff I didn't need, that $9 wasn't going to keep me from eating. It's not going to keep me from putting gas in the car. Anita and I both marveled on how far we've come. Anita reminded me that at one point, she also slept on my infamous couch. Now Anita is managing a bar in Miami and I'm a counselor.

We're all no longer keeping shitty houses. We're actually talking about buying property. I've convinced Nora to join me on my quest for new furniture. That's right, no thrift stores or auctions. I even had a conversation with my homeboy Leo about life insurance today.

Times are good.

Portia

I spoke a little bit earlier about one of my best friends, Portia. Apparently, my stalker googled me and found that Portia and I are close and sent Portia a friend invite on Facebook. Portia took one look at the invite, and knew that th skeezer was up to no good and declined it without a second thought. That's only one of the many reasons that she'll always be my homie.

So anyway, to give you a little of a back story on Portia, I met her in the third grade at the Meadows Elementary and we were in Ms. Mack's class together. She also lived in my neighborhood and we often walked home from school together. We hung at eachother's homes and we were really close. We eventually lost touch but briefly reconnected in middle school, but we no longer shared classes or walks home. Again we lost touch. I ran into her again a few years after we graduated high school, but we weren't able to exchange contact info.

About two years ago, I thought back on Portia and decided to look her up. I guess I forgot to also add that Portia is the daughter of the late Fred "Rerun" Berry of the show "What's Happening?" which was how I found her. All I had was her name and her father. Long story short, we linked up on Myspace. I got a bulletin about an online radio show that she had started. I decided that I'd call in. And the rest has been a beautiful history.

Who knew at the time that I was friends with a woman that would eventually go on to do great things in the entertainment industry? She was on the pilot episode of the show "Hole in the Wall" and she's the woman that famously shouted "OH CRAP!" as that huge foam thing ran into her. (I just looked it up and her clip all over YouTube and it's still hilarious!) She's acted in a few small independent roles, starred in a play, done some plus sized modeling, was recently voted to be the Face of E.L.F. cosmetics and she just got back from taping a Safe Auto commecial that's due to start airing in May. She's even in it with Justin Case.

I'm just writing to say how absolutely proud I am of Portia. I've seen her go through shit that would have downed anyone else. She's not a petite woman and believe me, the public is often very callous in letting her know that. But she maintains a smile. Yeah, she's been hurt by some things that were said and done. Some people have even personally emailed her to attack her just because of her weight. I've often begged her to forward me those emails so that I can reply to the sender and make them wish that their father had worn a condom. But Portia, ever the calm (and smart) business woman never sends them to me. Although my offer still stands to threaten the life of anyone that hurts my friend's feelings.

Sometimes I wish I had what Portia had, but I know firsthand that she's worked very hard for her success and I look forward to supporting her in any way possible. Because that's what friends are for.

Day By Day

So Pookie and I got into an argument lately and it was a doozy. I'd finally had enough and I told him no more. That was it. For a week, our home was cold and uninviting. I didn't spend any time with him. He inquired about my day and about our son and I answered it all with one word sentences. I wanted so badly to shout about how hurt I was and how I just wanted to leave and never look back. Since I'm working now, I started working the numbers on how much it will take for me to move out and I'd starting combing craigslist to see about renting a house.

I hung out with a girlfriend during that time, and she commented about how upset she could tell I was because of my complete silence during most of our visit. It wasn't until she made that comment that I noticed how social I really am on a regular basis. But that day, I wasn't. That evening she suggested that her friend give me a reading from his deck of Egyptian tarot cards. According to the oracle, now is the time for me to focus on myself and that way if Pookie and I find our ways back to one another, things would be better. But strangely enough, the oracle never said that I should totally let him go.

One night I came home particularly late and I didn't want to hear shit. We argued some more, but then he pulled me into talking. He's so good at getting me to talk to him, even when I don't want to. The next day he asked me to come to a Clottey/Pacquiao fight party with another couple we know. Reluctantly, I went. Before that, I was supposed to have went to see some of my kids, but my plans got cancelled so he came with me to do some shopping. I found some gorgeous Ellen Tracy snake skin peep toe heels that I was about to buy and he actually bought them for me. Needless to say, I'd warmed considerably by then. Of course it wasn't about the money he spent, and I know that he wasn't trying to buy my forgiveness (he had it by then) he was just being a gentleman. He can be so sweet.

We stopped to get something to eat and we finally talked again. And that's when I told him that I really don't want to let go. And I don't. I love him. Yes, we argue. And God only knows how much he works my damned nerves, but I'd jump in front of a bullet for him. But the fact of the matter is that for now, I need to be alone and so does he. I can't ignore that when he and I got together, I was ending a bad situation with my ex, and he was involved with someone else. What was supposed to be a whirlwind romance resulted in a little one, which brought us together, in one way or another, forever. The way we got together was created by such a crazy and precise set of circumstances that I've always felt that we were meant to get together and have a baby. To be honest, throughout the last 3 and a half years I've grown to love him so freaking much. I may talk shit about him all day long, but he knows that I'd do anything for him. Perhaps I should walk away and some days, I wish that I could.

My fear is that the day will come for us to need to leave one another alone, but I won't be able to. I don't want to hold onto a bad situation. I think about that tacky ass skeezer chloe and all I can think is that I'd rather get herpes in my eye than to end up desperate like her. My ex/her baby daddy is a selfish manipulative bastard and she knows it. She's even called and texted me, begging me to take his ass back. Yet she continues to hang on to him like he's a chicken wing that her fat ass can't put down. I look at that ignorant hood rat and think to myself that I'd hate to be like her, holding on to a man for nearly 15 years and still no ring on her hand and still not wanting to be with him half of the time.

When Pookie and I stopped and talked, I said to him "I don't want to let go" and I began to cry. But I knew that I needed some space for me and my son. I need to figure some things out. As I said, I went straight in from a bad situation and I can't say that I've exorcised all of my negativity from my previous relationship. Pookie admitted that he too doesn't want to let go, either. But he stated that he'd like to see what life is like alone, and for that I can't blame him. So we agreed that for now, we'll split and see where life leads us, with the possible intention of us getting back together.

Perhaps it's just me, but I feel a lot better knowing that things aren't just going to split. I love knowing that there's still a chance that we'll get back together. I know that many separations that are supposed to be temporary turn out to be permanent. But there is something so wonderful about knowing that he loves me too. Pookie (while too shy to say it) is the object for desire for a lot of women, but he brings his tall, goofy, yellow ass home to me. Perhaps its because underneath his bravado, he's a normal flawed cat, and I love everything about him, even his flaws.

And if after our separation, we do end up back together and things are right, I'd see us in a better place to talk about getting married. No rush though. I'm loving us how we are.

What In the World Is Happening?

I told myself that I wasn't going to write a lot about some of the things that happen on my new job, but the things I'm learning and experiencing are so incredible that I can't help but to come here and ponder on them.

So anyway, one of the kids I work with (for this post, I'll call him "Terrence") has had improved behavior so I decided that as a treat, on a beautiful day like yesteray, I decided to reward him with a trip to the basketball court. He, his mother and I sat together to brainstorm on the closest one. His mother suggested one, and Terrence said "that's where people get shot and women get raped." So yeah, we nixed that one. His mother suggested a community center, and Terrence said that they're closed on Sundays. Then he suggested a local park, so we agreed to go there.

When we got there, we saw about 8 guys hanging around, and I noticed that one of them was wearing all black, and topped with a black bandana. My first thought was that he must be a gang banger, but then I immediately checked myself for thinking the worst about him, based simply on his clothes. Something about the guy stood out, especially since the other guys around him weren't quite as pressed, but nevertheless, I moved past it.

Terrence and I got on the court, where he began to beat me like I stole something. We noticed that two other guys showed up, and they started playing on the opposing hoop. One of the guys happened to be wearing all black, but I instantly noticed that he was also wearing a black bandana. That was all of the proof I'd needed. I looked up at the guys on the side of the court and noticed that most of them may not have been ass cleanly pressed as the first guy, but most of them were wearing mostly black. Then out of no where, they started to play on the same hoop we were on.

I've never taken small hints simply, but I knew what they were saying. That was their park, and they weren't sharing. I went over and whispered to Terrence that we should leave. I took him to a bookstore instead.

I don't think there's any one way to describe how I felt. I was angry. I was sad. I was confused. Where were the police? Why the hell should a bunch of brain dead drop outs with nothing to live for, keep kids off of a basketball court? There it was, a lovely day, on a sunny warm Sunday afternoon in a neighborhood filled with kids, and no one could enjoy it there because of them. At the same time, I guess that by keeping their turf free of outsiders, they kept innocent bystanders from getting hurt in the event of a fight, stabbing, or drive by shooting. But why can't they hang out at their mama's houses? Instead, they have to take away a community property because they don't have shit else going on.

What the fuck?

Joy

So I've gotten into the job now and man, is it a blessing. I've learned so much about myself from the children I meet with. They've become family to me, and their parents are almost friends now. It's actually my job to hang out with children and I'm paid very well for it. I really want to pinch myself.

There's actually a preteen girl that I've particularly taken to. I didn't really know what to expect from her and her family, but I see now that they're very loving and concerned for her well-being. For obvious professional reasons, I can't get into too much detail on her, but for this post, I'll simply call her Rose. Anyway, one day I decided to drive Rose around Atlanta to show her some of the nicer parts of the city, to encourage her to do better in school. She told me that she wants to be a lawyer. Come hell or high water, it's my goal to help her get on the right track to become not only a lawyer but a damned good lawyer.

On the way there, we got to talking about the benefits of home ownership, and Rose looked at me and said that she didn't want to buy a house. I tried in vain to explain to her that home ownership is a wonderful thing, versus renting and not getting a dime in equity in a house. She remained undeterred.

I took her to the Cascade area of Atlanta and showed her how wonderful the homes are there. I reminded her that those big beautiful homes with the manicured lawns and the expensive cars in front of them were owned by Blacks. And not only were they owned by Blacks, but those Blacks were doctors, lawyers, business owners, reporters, and all different professions. I felt it was important to let her know that to remind her that for young Blacks, there are more ways to make money than slinging dope, rapping, or playing basketball.

After our tour of homes, I took her to Starbucks, where we happened to run into Rico Brooks of Block Entertainment. I know Rico because he used to be the district manager of the music store I used to work at. Rico has worked closely with Yung Joc, Gorilla Zoe and a few other up and coming artists. I told Rose who he was and what his job was and who she worked with, and her mouth hung open. Rose and I discussed my time working at Pizza Hut and what it was like to have people judge you based on how much you make. I told her that, to let her know that with proper education, she won't be stuck working jobs like that. After a while, our time was up, and I began to drive Rose home.

On the way back to her home, Rose looked at me and said that she'd like to buy a house. I didn't bother to ask her where the change of heart came from. But internally, I melted. I love my job. And Rose.

Him

Dear World,

I have a secret. Well, I guess it's not a secret anymore, but I digress. You see, there's this guy. But he's so much more than just a guy. We met a while back and he totally makes my heart flutter. When we see one another we embrace and say our hellos. He asks about my family and I tell Him that the baby and his father are well. I ask about his acquaintances and he always says that they're doing well.

But underneath the formal public greeting, there's an unspoken vibe. The truth is that I'd like to ride Him like a mechanical bull. I want Him to twist me up like a pretzel. I want to cling to Him like a cheap suit. But I can't. Of course Pookie would claim to be okay with it, but he lies. Well, he lies about that at least.

I'm so absolutely in lust with Him. I'd love to say that I'm in love with Him, but it's not the case. He's still special just the same though. This guy speaks to my heart. Something about his voice makes my day better. His smile brightens the darkest room. Perhaps if the universe were different, he and I would have met at a different time and things could have been different. But they aren't.

Sometimes, I imagine that he and I would run across each other in a dark smokey room, dance the night away, and then find a hotel suite to continue "dancing" in. He could live, knowing about our secret rendezvous and I know that he wouldn't tell a soul. I, however, was born with an uncanny ability to tell the truth no matter how much it fucks my life up. I'd be so much happier if I could lie every blue moon to save my ass, but no, God blessed me in other ways. So anyway, even if he and I did eventually do the horizontal Tootsie Roll, I'd eventually feel guilty and tell Pookie, which would just eff us up, and believe me that's the last thing I want. Pookie and I have been doing quite well lately, and the last thing I need is to go mess things up by doing the nasty with Him. My son and his father mean the world to me, so I guess I'll just have to give up on the romantic fantasy of a tryst with Him to keep my family together. That's the kind a sacrifice a real woman would make.

It's just so hard. Today, my girlfriend and I ran into Him. She'd never met Him before, but she instantly noticed our connection. She noticed how my voice got higher and how my cheeks flushed. We hugged as always, but somehow I get the feeling that he doesn't always hug all of his female friends. I asked if she thought he was digging me too, and she said that he was definitely checking for Malika. *sigh*

I have to admit though, at least I know he's eyeballing me too. When you grow up as that ugly fat girl, you spend your whole life oogling men who wouldn't spit on you if you were on fire. Suddenly, you grow up to become that chick with the great personality and swag for days, and you actually get the attention of men like Him in return. What a difference a day makes. He wants me too. I know it. And I feel so dirty (in a good way :}) and it makes me want Him that much more.

Anyway, perhaps if Pookie and I get to a place where we're just friends and we've moved on with our lives, then I'll be able to pursue the handsome guy that makes my heart flutter. But in the meantime, I'll have to settle for the what ifs...

Work

A while ago I talked about wanting a pretty good government job that a friend had hooked me up with. Well one of my classy ass crackhead relatives made a phone call that kept me from getting that job. I was hurt. I was pissed. I really needed that job. I was angry. I was disappointed. I was confused. All I could think was how terrible it was that my own fucking sister could keep me from getting that job.

My dad had been talking about getting me on with a job where he counsels children. I knew that nothing was going to come of it, but I figured I'd go with anyway, since I had nothing to lose. The first day that I was supposed to go meet with the guy, he pushed it back. The second time, I was told not to even bother to come since I already had the job. I knew it was a bust. Back to the drawing board. Then I was told to come in for orientation. But then a week before orientation, I was told it was going to be pushed back a week. I knew where I was headed. I knew that I'd never hear from them again. But I went for orientation anyway.

There, I met with other applicants and we were told how we would be given assignments of different children. I'd call their parents, make appointments to meet with them and go to their homes or different locations and help them through problems. This job is the BEST thing to ever happen to me! I love it!

The crazy thing is that thinking back on it, the only thing I wanted from the other job was the stability. The schedule would have been crazy and I would have either had to wake up early in the morning to get to work by six or I'd have had to work third shift and be away from my son (two things I never wanted to begin with). Truth be told, the only thing I wanted from the job was the insurance and to work for the government. I never wanted that position. The only thing I wanted was the check.

I can't believe that I was so pissed to not have the other job. On this job, I can make my own hours and I make notes on my visits with the kids, normally late at night, since that's when I'm normally up anyway. And the best part of it is that I make DAMNED GOOD money. I'll actually make enough to buy a house. That's right, I get paid a phenomenal salary to work with children, something I'd wanted to do for a while now. And the cherry on the cake is that working this job is part of a government program where if I work here for two years, it'll pay off my student loans. How sweet is this?!

So now my haters can find some other mess to harp on. Folks thought that by trying to do me in, they'd mess me up, but they only opened the door for the best job I've ever had to happen. So all of those chickens that want to call me trife and unemployed, can kiss my ass even further. Because not only am I employed now, I'm blessed. And I'm STILL better than your wack asses.

The Snub

I wrote a while ago about a party that I'd went to of my friend's. My friend warned me in advance that a chick that I'm not too cool with would be there. I promised to be on my best behavior (those that know me well know that you do best to make me promise to behave around people I don't like, otherwise, Lord only knows what I'm likely to do or say).

The time came, and I saw her come in. She came over to our table and she shook hands with everyone. Then she turned to me in an attempt to shake my hand. With a curl of my lip, and attitude in my eyes, I looked at her and said "no" and did not extend my hand. "No?" she asked. "No," I replied. She moved on to continue shaking hands with other people at the table.

Once she was gone, a friend's boyfriend looked at me and joked "we're cool right?" I explained to him that she knows damned well what she did and she knows damned well that we're not cool. I let him know that I'm not the one for false pretenses. When I hate a bitch, she knows it. She's the first to know it. Call me crazy, but I don't see the purpose in pretending to be friends with someone. That's actually the same reason that I refuse to fool with my ex's baby mama. Sure she'll take to her blog (and mine) and call me all kinds of names and whatnot, but the fact of the matter is, she's always attempting to befriend me. She's sent me numerous text messages throughout the years (falsely) apologzing and (honestly) claiming to be jealous of me. I know not to be her friend, because she's a grimy cunt, and I wish she'd just move on with her life and accept that I see her for the crazy, desperate, ignorant, sad, pathetic, obese, waste of sperm that she truly is and we will NEVER be friends. Sorry skeezer (she still reads my blogs so I have to remind of her of how simple she is), but I don't roll with fake friends.

Back to that night, I told dude that I'm an extremely loyal friend (it's just the gemini in me, but I can be your best friend or your worst enemey and if someone chooses the latter, I'm cool with that) and I told him that I'm not going to put on a show to make her feel good about herself. He actually shook my hand and applauded me being real in the situation, and said that he too doesn't take to pretending to be nice with people he hates.

I guess I'll have to give a back story in what would cause me to not even be willing to shake someone's hand. Well, it started back in high school. We were ace boon coons. We were ride or die. We played soccer together. We cried to eachother about our effed up boyfriends. We went to clubs and concerts together. At one point, she was homeless and I snuck her into my home (moms hated her- now I know why) and I let her sleep in my bed, while I slept on the floor. During that same period, I woke up at 4 a.m. to drive her to her job at Starbucks on the other side of town. And I did it because we were homies. And then I managed to get her to rent a room in the house that my father owned. Later when she came down with pneumonia and was hospitalized, I was the only person that came to visit her. Her own mother and brother didn't even bother. I woke up early, went to visit her, and then went to work 14 hours straight at my two jobs. When she had to work on her birthday, I was the person that brought her cake. She was so happy as the whole store sang happy birthday, she cried and said that even her own family had never done anything that sweet for her. She called me her best friend.

So imagine my surprise, when later on, she totally played me to the left for some guy that she'd known for two days. Yep, 10 years of me holding her ass down, and I get played to the left for a stranger.

It didn't take long for mutal friends to start telling me that she'd been asking about me. I'd actually seen her in public a few times and I walked right by her like she didn't exist. One day, on a whim, after a few years of not talking to her, I called her. And it was just like old times. I told her how dirty it was to play me for new dick, and she agreed. They actually quit kicking it shortly after she let me know that her loyalty to his ass was her priority. Personally, if I was with a new guy and he was willing to dump his best friend since high school over me, I'd have to look at him sideways. That's a huge sign that someone has no loyalty, but I digress. I had just had my son and needless to say, times were tough. One day, Pumpkin was especially fussy and I needed to find some paper work. My nerves were absolutely shot. He wouldn't stop crying, but the paper work was important because I was broke, and finding it would possibly lead to me getting a few dollars. I called her crying. I begged for her to come sit with him. I just needed a moment to find the paperwork and calm my nerves. That was all I wanted and needed. She told me that she couldn't come. I begged more. She said no. I understood that she must have had something else going on, so I accepted it and we hung up. That was the last time I talked to her until "the snub."

No, we didn't talk, but it wasn't on me. I called her a few hours later when the baby and I were calm. She didn't respond. A few hours later, I saw something silly on tv and I texted her to joke about it. She didn't respond. I called her once the next day. She didn't respond. The day after, again, I called her once. Anyone that knows her knows that she's glued to her phone, so I knew what she was saying by not saying anything. I sent her another text saying something along the lines of "so you came back into my life just to pull this shit huh? do me a favor, and this time, don't bother to ask anyone how I'm doing."

I can't really say that I missed her. How can I miss a false friendship? How stupid would I be to miss someone that I drove to the edge of the earth for, when she wasn't even a good enough friend to inquire later on if the baby and I were okay? That was what really bugged me. How is it that she can hear me on the phone, crying and on my last leg, and not even think to call a few hours later to see if we were doing better? I didn't miss her ass at all. And I still don't.

So yeah, I'd say that was a damned good reason to snub her ass. She'll never have another friend that's as ride or die as me. And frankly, she doesn't deserve it.

Moving On, the Safe Way

I just read a blog where someone asked about when is the best time to introduce a new boyfriend or girlfriend to the situation when you've got children at home. I've thought long and hard about this situation, myself. Pookie and I still live together, but I'm always weighing my options on moving on.

I've told myself that I don't really see myself getting married until after Pumpkin has graduated high school. I absolutely hate the idea of another man entering the picture and playing my son's father. Pookie and I may have our share of problems, but his father is fantastic and I get weirded out at the thought of another man filling (or trying to fill) that role. Don't get me wrong, I can see myself dating again, but as far as moving another man in, I just don't see it happening.

I can't help but to look at the model my mother left for dating while having children, and it certainly left a lot to be desired. I'd always sworn to myself that when I had kids, I'd be nothing like her, and thankfully I've stuck to that. The funny thing is that it wasn't until I was a mother that I really realized how much she screwed things up. I guess that sounds pretty harsh, but I'm not that known for holding my tongue.

Anyway, in terms of dating, I'll never forget the first man she brought home. It was a hot day at the beginning of summer and a guy showed up. And he never left. Literally, he just showed up. No talk, no discussion, not even mentioning him ahead of time. He just showed up and stayed. I guess she got tired of the broke bastard because a few months later, he disappeared just as quickly as he came. Mom had 4 boyfriends (three of which I met) and one she married. Two years later, the marriage was over although they had dated for well over a decade.

Like I said, I saw how she did things and I remember how I felt, and being that I vowed to be a better parent than her, I know I'll have to do things better or at least differently. When dealing with her boyfriends, I'd always felt like a forced third wheel. I love my son so much that I can't imagine forcing him to be in close parameters for a long time with someone that doesn't respect him or even someone he hates. To this day, he may only be two, but I refuse to let him interact with people I don't feel worthy of him. I've literally scooped my son up when I saw that some effed up people were trying to talk to him. Gosh, I didn't intend for this blog to be about my own faltered childhood, but damned if it isn't a vent.

Anyway, enough of my shattered dreams. I am deathly afraid to put my son in a situation like those that I encountered. One of my greatest traits is my ability to feel empathy. When dealing with other people I will either recall how I've felt in their position, or I'll imagine how I'd react if I were in their position. My empathy makes me a pretty compassionate person. I don't know how I could possibly date if my son absolutely hated someone. Now I am of course speaking as if my son was a logical person. If he hated every dude I dated, I'd have to deal with that and work with him to remind him that I loved him and that he'd always be my son. That's another thing I wish I'd gotten-reassurance that I was loved no matter who mommy was banging.

Oh well, me having a fucked up childhood helped to assure that my son will always have better than I did. I love my Pumpkin so much that I'd move the moon and stars to keep him safe and happy. I think I'm already doing better than where I came from.

Malika and Her Boobs Vol. 2

I blogged a while ago about my issue involving my boobs and not wanting them to hang to my kneecaps in a classy strappy dress that I was planning to wear to my classmate's upcoming birthday party (it's on my other blog here). I really wanted to look good in front of my classmates to the point where they made lewd comments about me and my huge perky knockers. Well, I at least wanted the guys to make nasty comments, I would have settled for the women looking at me enviously and wanting me dead because my bosom was so upright and ample. My homie Shaunnika suggested that duct tape my boobs up, which brought me to last night.

I started getting ready a few hours early. I shaved my pits, my legs, my vajayjay, and my toes, all in an effort to look my best. I even threw my girdle on and my pretty panties. It's not like I was expecting to get action or anything, I just wanted my underclothes to look as pretty as my outer clothes. And then it was time.

I pulled out the duct tape and started on the right one. And then I tried the left one. But unlike the first time where they looked upright and happy, they looked weird. I was perplexed. So I started over, and this time they looked okay. But then I put on the dress and damned if my boobs weren't lopsided. One hung straight down, while the other was clearly forcibly facing my left. Frustration set in. I went to Pookie and asked if my tatas looked okay. Naturally he said that they looked fine, in an attempt to get me to hurry the hell up. I knew what needed to be done. I grabbed my jacket and walked outside. I went to my neighbor Barbie's apartment and immediately said to her "I need help taping my boobs."

I've only known Barbie for a few months but between conversations, advice, watching my son, and making the best damned sandwich I ever had, she's been a God send. Now I'll have to add taping my boobs to her list of accomplishments.

Barbie, our friend Yvette and I headed to the bathroom and closed the door. The first order of business was to take off the duct tape, which had started to settle onto my skin. DEAR GOD. Have you ever waxed your nipples? Well, I don't have any hair on my jugs so I have no need to wax them, but if I did, I imagine that is something what I went through last night. Barbie and Yvette wanted to slowly and painlessly try to rip the tape off, but time was short and my frustration took over. Being the dumbass that I am, I ripped the tape off of my boobs. I remember seeing the skin clinging to the great tape as I pulled if off with all my might. I saw stars as. I wanted to cry. My eyes watered. My boobs hurt and they hurt bad.

Once we got the original set of tape off, Barbie began to apply the more tape as I held my breast firmly into position. Yvette sat back and cut the tape into strips for our mission. All I could think was how much some perv would be willing to pay for footage of three women in the bathroom playing with boobies and using duct tape. After much measuring and trying to figure out the best way to execute Operation Tape Tatas we found the best way. Barbie taped them up. The only problem then was that they were once again crooked.

Thankfully, the tape hadn't set in, so taking this set down wasn't as bad. This time we were able to go back and fix them, and just like I imagined, they looked perfect. Barbie even had me jump up and down before I left to assure that they stayed in place. It was time to party.

I got there and it was great seeing all of my homies from Southwest Dekalb High School. Pookie sat off in the corner with his brother, while I went off and sat down with my homegirls. I let everyone know that if my boobs popped out, they were to let me know immediately because I wasn't trying to end up on the internet. For some reason, I would have been more embarrassed about duct tape showing than I would have been about my actual teets hanging.

My old friend Kenshala started talking and I told her about my apprehension with my boobs. She told me not to worry about it and that if they pooped out, she'd let me know. The song "Blame It On the Alcohol" came on, and I knew that I had to hit the dance floor, since my dearly departed cousin loved this song. I had to bust a move in his honor. The only problem was that as soon as I got down they started to come out. Kenshala pointed it out. Thankfully, I'd hit the dance floor wearing my sweater, so we fastened it. But that didn't stop Irma and Chyna (yes I named my boobs, don't judge me!!). I knew what I needed to do.

I excused myself and went to the bathroom and went into a stall where I prepared. Of course the tape had settled again. Once again, I went for quick and painful to get it over with. I saw stars. And then for Irma (the one on the left). Again it hurt. I couldn't believe that I was in a public ladies' room ripping tape off of the delicate skin of my breasts. After I dried my eyes I went back to the dance floor. I was ready to get down with my bad self.

Unfortunately, Pookie had talked me into wearing an uncomfortable pair of shoes. So despite my going back and forth over the issue of "the ladies" I still wasn't able to dance because my feet were in immense pain. FML

Malika Goes Back to School

Well, as you know, I've been looking for work for a while now. Actually, my father has hooked me up with a job and I'm actually pretty stoked about it. But that doesn't mean that I'm not constantly looking for something else. Anyway, I looked around at jobs and so many of them are paying next to nothing. All I could think to myself was that I spent a decade in college only to look at job boards that only pay $12/hr.

Then I got to thinking about what I'd like to do, and it brought itself back to what I've been thinking about for a minute. I'd like to get into social work. So a masters degree in social work it is. I'm actually pretty geeked about it. I can still do my own thing on the side and work full time while getting my degree. Who ever knew that the girl they called stupid would be the one to get her master's degree?

I'm looking at going to Georgia State University and they actually offer a degree in African American Studies. Too bad I can't do that one too. The more I think about it, the more excited I get. As soon as it gets warm (I swear to God, it's so freaking cold right now. Black people aren't meant to live like this!) I'm going to go down to campus to beg my way into their graduate program. If that doesn't work, I'll be back at my alma mater. Either way, soon I'll be a graduate student. How cool is that?

It's Okay to Brag

Talking with Pookie recently, I'd asked him about men bragging about sexual conquest. Somehow, the question came up about men talking about their sexual exploits at home with the Mrs. and he said something that I took slight offense to. Apparently, men don't brag about their sexual exploits with their significant others. I was outraged.
From what I was told, men would be bored to share the sexy details of the same chick they've been banging for the last few years, so unless a man and wifey do something really sexually thrilling, the average man keeps sex talk about his woman to a minimum.
Perhaps it's just my own selfish reason, but I'd have no problem with Pookie bragging on our sexual exploits. Hell, it's not like I'm dropping drawers all over the place, so if someone knew how I got down with him, I'd have no problem with that. To be quite honest, I'm proud to boast about me and Pookie's sexual exploits. Over drinks, I'm ecstatic to share with my homegirls how talented he is.
Call it an ego boost, but I know that there are so many women that are prettier, smarter, richer, and skinnier than me, so at least I can get my jollies by being proud of the fact that the man I'm living with knows what makes mama happy. I used to think that my ex that I was with for years was awesome, but dear GOD! He has nothing on what I've got now.
But anyway, I'd be okay with Pookie bragging on me. Frankly, I'd be honored to make it to the sordid conversations where men brag about banging some hot chick. As a matter of fact, with my checkered history, I wouldn't be surprised if I've already been the subject of a few naughty locker room conversations. Hell, I've always been a conversation piece. ;)
So anyway, between the two of us, I'm apparently the only one that can and will boast about how good I've got it at home.
Take that all of you skinny, rich, smart, pretty women! At least I've got one thing on you!!