And THAT Makes You Unfuckable

I've been thinking lately about a few things, and I've decided that I should put together a list of things that make a guy unfuckable. I didn't plan to share this, but Next ended up having some characteristics that I just couldn't fool with, so I decided to nip it in the bud, before I got too caught up (*high five* to me for seeing the signs and cutting it short before it got too deep). Anyway, here are the top ten things that make a dude unfuckable to me. This list is based on stuff that I've dealt with personally and some of the things my homies have gone through. These really aren't in any particular order. Feel free to add your own in the comments section.


10. Bad hygeine. No matter how good looking a guy is, if he smells like butt, he doesn't have a shot in hell of getting a woman's real first name, let alone getting the panties. Deodorant, mouthwash, soap, and a clean hair are important. Your mama may love you if you smell like a pig's ass, that chick in the club with the big knockers you're trying to get at? Not so much.

9. Unable to hold a good conversation. I hate it when I'm having a good time and telling funny stories and a guy just can't keep up. A guy should also be remotely familiar with the news. There is no reason for a grown ass man to not know who the vice president is. You don't have to know who the speaker of the house is (extra cootchie points if you do though) but at least have some damned clue about who and what runs the country.

8. Priding yourself on being stupid. Okay, this one is a continuation on the last one. Some guys are stupid, but it's a whole new thing when he's proud of his sense of stupidity. If someone thinks its a sign of greatness that he can't name a single Elton John song or that he hasn't picked up anything to read since Clinton was in Office (and when he did read, it was only XXL magazine), it's time to put your panties back on and send him home.

7. Being a known hoe. Your boys might think it's great that you'll stick your dick in anything with a pulse, but women really aren't trying to hear that mess. Only pro athletes and highly successful rappers can get away with being easy. If you are willing to screw a chick, but you wouldn't be caught dead talking to her in public, for fear that someone you respect and want to impress may see you, you are not a pimp. You are not a mack. You are not "the man." You are a HOE.

6. Kids you have that you don't claim. So what, you had sex with a chick whose a hideous beast and world class bitch. Well, dude, that's your own damned fault. It's not the child's fault that you hate their mama, man up and take responsibilitly. No woman would want to risk a broken condom with a known sperm donor.

5. Living with your parents. Now, I'm not suggesting that all women are gold diggers so a man has to be living in a mansion for us to get with him. Many women are more than understanding that times are tough and sometimes we have to make sacrifices and do things that we don't like, such as downsizing in order to save money. (If that's the case, extra points if you take us to a nice hotel to get it on). But if you stay at your parents house and all you do is smoke weed and play Xbox all day, there is nothing we can do for you, nor you can do for us. What kind of woman would want to fuck you on your mama's couch?

4. A filthy apartment or car. Underwear in the middle of the damned floor, ants, forks stuck to the plates on the floor, mold in the refrigerator. What is that smell?! When was the last time this fool vacuumed or cleaned out the freaking toilet?! You want a woman who loves you no matter what, but only some low class broad with no standards would sleep with you in a nasty house. In the end, women think that if your house isn't clean, neither is your butt.

3. Omitting information that you know we'd want. Yes, we want to know if you slept with someone in our immediate family or close friend. Yes we want to know if you've got an incurable STD, or if you're trying to get us to come home with you, be up front and let us know if you share a bedroom with your little brother (enter #5). Yes, we also want to know if you slept with someone that we hate (you slept with that bitch?! Jesus Christ, how low are your standards?!) I've always been a fan of being honest, because the truth will always come out eventually. It's not worth the drama it will cause if the truth comes out later without you telling us first.

2. No job, no plans, no education, no future. No chance. When you're 18, no one really expects you to have a clear plan for where you want your life to go. However, when you're damned near 30, nobody is hearing that crap. Dude, get off the couch. Feed the homeless, go to school, find a job, go for a jog, read a book, write a dang book, just do something! It's so frustrating to see a man with so much potential waste his life and give up before it even started. And then that bum will want you to sit home on the couch with him and waste your damned life too just because he's got no ambition. Ladies say it with me "No, thank you."

1. Being a liar. God, I hate liars. Liars assume that everyone around them is stupid, which is irritating on so many levels. No, you're not ceo of a major company. No, you're not a platinum selling rapper. No, you're not secretly rich. No, you're not a Ph.D. Jesus fucking Christ, just tell the goddamned truth already. Women aren't stupid, despite what men have to tell themselves to make it through the day. Because women are notoriously and stupidly compassionate, most men could still get ass (it would be sympathy ass, but hey, tail is tail) if they admitted to how pathetic their existences really are.

On Sharing What I've Learned

Pookie and I have been kicking it for nearly 4 years now, so needless to say, we've become quite familiar with each other's families and situations. Pookie has a cousin that kicked it with a girl I'll call Sherita. Sherita and I took to one another like glue. She's so nutty and naive that she reminds me of myself. That being said, we've forged a bit of a friendship over the years and she's become a tad like a little sister to me.

Sherita recently called me to complain that Pookie's cousin has taken up with a skank and despite she and the cousin remaining close friends he tries to play Sherita to the left while his new chick is around. Suddenly the new broad is contacting Sherita and telling her to leave dude alone. When Sherita calls him, if the chick is around, he'll forcefully tell her to beat it, only to call her back begging and pleading once his girlfriend is gone. When Sherita called me to complain that the chick is making things hard and that she loves him and only wants to be friends (bullshit) I told Sherita point blank to let his ass go.

Sherita saw no point in letting him go. She feels that she was with the cousin first and she should be a priority. I explained to her that no matter how many couldas, wouldas, and shouldas, she could come up with, it was a lost cause. I told her point blank that despite what my ex would tell his pill popping slut, he and I both knew that he had a real love for me. But it took me 10 years to finally see how full of shit he truly was and is. I told Sherita that she didn't want to be with a man that couldn't show loyalty to any one woman (the fact is, he's playing both of them), either his girlfriend or his "homegirl." Sherita had so many reasons that she should hold on. Their history, their love, their deep friendship, their long conversations. I told her straight up that all of that meant nothing if he wasn't man enough to be honest with his girlfriend about Sherita's friendship.

It wasn't until that conversation that I realized that perhaps I truly have learned a little about love and relationships from my ordeal with my ex. Now that I've had time to digest things and sit back and reflect, I'm that much more thankful that I have been able to move on and find a new love. No, I'm not loving another man, I'm learning to truly love myself first.

Moving on, this past weekend, Pookie and I went to Middle Georgia to his uncle's surprise birthday party. I had a great time getting to hang out with the family. While there, I ran into the girlfriend of another cousin (Cousin 2). She and I had actually met a few years ago at the birthday party of Pookie's baby cousin. She was his new girlfriend and since I was pretty new to the clan, I knew to fall back and let my questions answer themselves. I could tell that they (the women in the family) weren't too fond of her for one reason or another. She came in with an infant in her arms (not his child) and she remained silently on the couch after being announced and saying her hellos. I hated to see her sitting by herself, so I made it a point to talk to her and try to help her feel comfortable. She was only 19 and had 2 children (neither of them were his). From there I could understand why she may not look like a prize to the women in Cousin 2's family. But from where I stood, she struck me as a humble, loving, and sweet girl. She even called me ma'am even though I was only 8 years older than her. I'd wondered how she'd been since then.

When I ran into her at the party, I told her that it was good to see her and that I was glad she'd stuck around. Although I have no idea how Cousin 2 would be in a relationship, I know firsthand that despite being very loving and open, the women in Pookie's family are protective of their men (as most women are of the men in their families). She told me point blank that Cousin 2 wasn't holding up his end of the relationship and she's frustrated as hell because he doesn't do or take care of shit. I took a long sip of my margarita and told her to dump his ass. Even though I consider Pookie's relatives my in-laws despite us not being married (which would kind of make Cousin 2 like my cousin) I looked her square in the eye and told her that if after 2 years he still isn't making her happy, to let his ass go. Dammit, that was a good margarita. Anyway, she said how much she loves him and blah blah blah. I repeated to let him go. Cousin 2 is a talented artist and she wants to move to Atlanta for herself and for his career, however dude doesn't want to move with her. She thinks that if she makes the trip solo, he'll try to move in with her, while leaving her to carry the financial burden (damned if that didn't sound familiar) and stress of handling the move alone. I told her again to let it go. I even told her that if she wants to come visit Atlanta and see the city to check on moving here, she's always welcome on me and Pookie's couch. She remained nervous, but in love. I could see in her eye that she wasn't going anywhere (not now at least).

I recalled to her that I spent 10 years trying to make a man love me. A man that no matter what, he'll never remotely love any woman (not even his mama) as much as he loves himself. That fool isn't even that involved in his daughter's life. And while Pookie is most certainly an upgrade from my ex, he still isn't capable of fully giving me the love I want and deserve. Which is why I'm moving out. And I couldn't be happier with that.

For a long time I'd wondered why my life had to be so hard. I've always been loving and loyal. I've always been outgoing and easily made friends. So what the hell did I do to deserve some of the shit I'd been through? I'd even tried to kill myself once and seriously wanted to a few times after that. No matter what I'd had in mind, the higher power chose to keep me here. But now that I have a job where I work with troubled children, I see that much of it happened to me for a reason. I can talk to a kid for 10 minutes and get inside of their head. I know what they want and how they think and what they need. One of my girls is 17 and she's dealing with a guy that was a lot like my ex (and he was her first, just like my ex was my first). I want so bad to head her off at the pass so she doesn't waste a decade of her life loving a man with a shitload of issues the way I did. I'd always hoped that the crazy stuff I went through could eventually be used to help other people in trouble.

It looks like I'm finally getting my wish.

Fear

There aren't too many things I fear other than moths and mushrooms. I don't fear death, I don't fear rejection, I don't fear failure (as evidenced by the many poor decisions I've made in my life) but there is one thing that makes my heart nearly stop beating.

The other day I took one of my kids to Georgia State University, where she wants to enroll as an undergrad student and I want to enroll as a grad student. We had a great time talking about how awesome her life will be once she graduates high school in a few weeks. I enjoyed recalling the fun my friends and I had the summer after I graduated high school. Then I looked at her and told her that I'd like to come to her graduation, but I simply can't. She urged me to and said how much she'd enjoy having me there. I thought about it. It seemed pretty cool and I'd love to be there to cheer her on. I told her that I might be able to make it after all.

Once I dropped her at home, I started to think about it even more. I started to think about that day. A day that has remained the worst day of my life. A day that started out as the happiest, suddenly became the most tragic.

The day I graduated high school was a warm June day. I remember my all white outfit, down to my ugly white Payless shoes. I actually found myself looking back on my high school years and thinking that no matter how much I said I wouldn't, I actually would miss high school. After the ceremony I anxiously went to meet my family so that we could go eat. I went out into the aisles of the church and I saw them. My little sister looked at me and said "Malika, Tracey's dead." That's it. No "we need to talk" no waiting, no warning, no asking me to sit down first. I looked at her, my dad, and at the time, my dad's girlfriend and said "don't play like that, that's not funny." I searched their faces for answers. Was Tracey there and they were playing an awful prank on me? My stepmother's face was blank as was my father's. I misinterpreted his blank look as a smirk and said again "Seriously, that's not funny." My father looked up and said "she didn't get enough insulin." I ran and found a pew in the church. I threw myself down and cried. I bawled and screamed at the top of my lungs. My cousin was gone. My best friend. The woman that I'd shared so much time with over the last few years. And she was gone. My friend Talicia and I bummed a ride home with someone else. I was in shock. I remember how I kept repeating that my cousin was dead. She was buried a week later, June 19, 1998, the day before my 18th birthday. So many people get to laugh and hang out for their 18th birthdays. I was in New Jersey for a funeral.

I still think back on that period often. I find myself thinking that if only I'd put more energy into inviting Tracey to my graduation, she'd still be here. Tracey had moved to New Jersey slightly before that, and I'd called one day to check on her. Her mother told me that she was in Georgia, to my surprise. I called the number she gave me and I left a message for Tracey to call me back. I never heard back from her. My graduation was a few weeks later. I get so angry at myself because all I can think is that I was chasing after my ignorant boyfriend, David, who I hate now. I was so busy worrying about him and his foolishness that I didn't even put any real effort into inviting Tracey to my graduation. And now she's gone. If only I'd called more. Even one more time, she might still be here. To explain my thoughts, Tracey died after she and her boyfriend were staying in a motel and they got into an argument. He choked her and left her. She died that night/morning. If only I'd called her, we probably would have arranged for her to stay the night at my house and she'd still be here. She would have lived to watch her daughter grow up. But instead Tracey's gone because I didn't think....

I went to my cousin Ali's college graduation a year after mine. I was a wreck. I cried the whole time. Something about seeing those caps and gowns took me back to that day. After that, I swore that I'd never attend another graduation. I feel that it's unfair for me to ruin someone else's day with my own issues. I was surprised my mother even let me skip my little sister's graduation.

On the way home from my friend's home after we discussed her graduation, for the first time ever, I thought I might be okay with graduations again. But then I relived that day all over again. As I drove home tears ran down my face as I asked myself for the millionth time why I didn't try one more time to call Tracey.

No, I won't be attending her graduation.

Tough Days

Every time I'm given the info for another child for me to go see, I get excited. I'm so in love with my job, that I honestly can't imagine myself doing anything else. What I do truly doesn't feel like work. But then sometimes I'm faced with situations that make me question the whole damned thing.

The other day I was given a girl's info. She was between the ages of 5 and 7 (remember, I can't give identifying details). I read there had been issues in her home. I planned a good day for me to stop in and see her. I couldn't quite find the street, so I called a girlfriend that told me where it was. I've lived in Atlanta my whole life and I don't scare easily. However that was only the second time in my life that I've been scared in an area. I've walked up and down Bankhead, Candler Rd, and Old National Hwy on numerous occasions with no problems, but I was so freaking scared as I drove down this street. My friend accurately described the area when she called it "lawless." I saw so many people that were walking ghosts. They had no spirits and no souls, they walked the streets, darting out, as if a 4,000 pound vehicle hitting them would be the least of their problems. I tried my best to play it cool, but driving slowly through that neighborhood was certainly not what I wanted to do. I cursed to myself when I had to make a u-turn in front of everyone, announcing to the world that I was not only fresh blood, I was lost fresh blood. I quickly called the mother of the child I was to meet with and thankfully got her to tell me exactly where she was located.

Once I made it to the home, I was amazed at the condition of it. Honestly, if it hadn't been occupied, I'm sure it would have been deemed unfit for residency and torn down. My plan was initially to meet with the little girl and her mother, but their home was in such a sad state that I instead offered to take them to McDonald's. The mother declined, but she told me that I could take her child instead, so off we went.

There was a McDonald's in the area, but I decided to venture out to another one. I couldn't bear to be out there any longer than I had to. When we got to McDonald's my little counterpart quickly became a favorite to everyone there. She was so friendly and outgoing. The workers there complimented her and she talked to them with ease. She easily answered my questions about school and her family life. It was clear that despite living in such immense poverty, she was raised in so much love. I knew I had to eventually embrace the topic, but I really didn't want to. I didn't want to bring it up, when she was so happy. But I did. I had to. I had a job to do.

I asked her to tell me what happened. And she described how a young male friend of the family molested her in her sleep. One thing that I know I'll never forget is that when I asked her how it made her feel, the only word she said was "guilty." She was so young to know such a heavy word, and to now have to attach such a heavy word to such a terrible situation was just wrong.
I was absolutely horrified. As a professional, I knew to remain brave and strong for the little girl. I praised her for being brave enough to tell her mother and I assured her that she did absolutely nothing wrong. Amazingly, as we discussed it, she didn't withdraw. She didn't say she'd had any bad dreams about it, and she simply tries not to think about it. We agreed to call him another word other than his name, because she didn't like to say it. After she'd bounced around McDonald's for an hour, I decided it was time to take her home. I hugged her goodbye and I promised her that we would go out again. I bid goodbye to the family and left.

I got into my car and threw down my purse. I started the engine and I rode to the the traffic light that led out of the area. I stopped at the red light. And I cried like a baby. I sobbed so heavily. She was so brave and so little and he took her innocence. Yet she managed to smile and laugh. No one would ever think she'd been violated in the worst way. As a woman and as a mother I was outraged at what happened to her. I cried big heavy tears until my body was exhausted.

I might seem tough, but I'm only a woman.

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.