For the men that say “Bless you” as a pick up line.

I don’t need your blessing. You’ll know when I’m sneezing, and we don’t keep the same faith.

Saying things like, “Damn Ma, Bless you beautiful, My God you are so fine” isn’t the quickest way for me to notice you or stop and chat. But lets be real for a second, you don’t have time to stop and chat. You got two kids and a job search screaming your name. You want me to say thank you, but why? My beauty has nothing to do with either of us. Look, this isn’t about where you aren’t in life.

Its just that I don’t think you understand one detail. While your mom thought you were special and encouraged you to express yourself, following the discourse offered in pop culture isn’t the type of expression she had in mind.

“You a big fine woman, won’t you back that thang up?” Um No.

Today, a man walked past me. “My god, bless you. You’re fine!” I walked briskly unaffected by his offering, but then he turned around to look for my eyes to say, “You gotta say something.” Should I have told him that he was also fine, like a natural exchange of hello, using any of the acceptable reliable greetings like: Hey, How’s it going, What’s up, Yo? Because thank you would have implied that somehow he was god-like, and/or capable of blessing me.

Not everything you think, must actually be said.  So, the next time I step out of a vehicle and join the curb that you happen to also be standing on, it is NOT an invitation for you to tell me, “Girl, you just get out of the car like that..(insert what might be an attempt at a sexy face.)”

Brass Tacks

BrassTacksWhen one boils things down to the bottom line it can shed light on situations. But there’s a chance that all that beautiful life will be reduced to one word. And people shouldn’t be boxed in by a word, because words fall short, and yet they are all we have. I looked up the etymology of the word broad as it relates to women.

Men used it in early 20th century to refer to women by their figure (broad hips.) “Look at those broads,” signified not only skeletal structure, but suggested that these women were low class.

Trust me that I don’t have many areas of expertise, not even language, but in this passage you will read the quintessential woman’s experience. It’s quite possibly the most entertaining scenario for anyone watching, listening or reading, anyone other than me.

It wasn’t today, nor was it a particular day. I hadn’t been home in a couple of days. I put everything away in its place and set up stations for different activities. One of these things was my vanity table. The mission was to move it to a space under or closer to a top hat light, because it was too dark in it’s current position. However, there in the new perfect spot, shined an empty no-bulb-having top hat. I keep some hats with bulbs and some without, because for a vampire like me, a dimmer is still too much light.

I had successfully made this new make-up station well lighted, only to receive his timely entrance in the middle of the finishing touches. He maybe even lent a hand to move different things as I vacuumed. But later, while I was in the middle of something else, he decided to bring darkness back to my vanity table by unscrewing the light bulb I re-homed and put it back where it was originally. It is then that he called my name so that I could see if I like his new lighting set up better.

After noticing what is blindingly obvious only to me, I just gave him a look. I probably talked down to him; I blacked out from frustration. I am really good at that, blacking out and becoming awful. This doesn’t make me proud. After coming back to life, I remind him that we just moved the vanity into that corner, this time explaining the prime position of the top hat.

BUT READER, THERE IS ONE IMPORTANT DETAIL YOU MUST KNOW.

When we are to go to sleep here in this home that we don’t live in together, he often lifts the dimmer UP instead of DOWN. This action will always turn the lights to their brightest. I have not come to accept that after hours of sitting with dim lights I am to get blasted with light just before sleep. I freak the fuck out whenever it’s done.

I told him to please put the bulb back, and he did but he also told me his reason for moving it.

“This way (our new AMAZING lighting set up) IT (the brightness coming from the light) won’t be right over your face and blind you. Ya know when I turn the switch the wrong way and make the lights all bright.”

Now none of this truly matters in the grand scheme of things—we are all human. We are silly, and we get high, and shit like this is funny. It makes you wonder how we ever got this stupid, dependent, and weak… We can all have a laugh at each other, right? This is what love looks like and to take part is letting others love us. We should, because even punctuation, a modicum of civilized intelligence, is hard, and we get very distracted.

But what if he doesn’t let it go? What if he tells you for the rest of that night, or as long as he thinks of it, when he thinks of it, that this is how he turns the light off? It isn’t because he won’t or can’t learn, but that this is the way he prefers to turn it off.

“I like to see really bright before it gets dark. It makes everything darker once it’s turned off.”

These are not my words. I couldn’t make this up. If I did, I would criticize that this character lacks believability. I mean ladies and gentlemen, is this possible? Can people be this nuts? Can I be this nuts?

Is this the natural life cycle of men and women’s’ relationships? It’s hilarious and infuriating. Light has been shed, and it boils down to whether we can keep laughing about it. If you can’t, it’s over. Am I describing an impetus to start dating women, or just taking a long time to say that love is a choice, those still laughing have it made, and I am too estranged for my own good.

Maybe it’s you. Not the system.

One of the main problems is that you drive a car far bigger than you can handle, and perhaps all that empty space around you is weighing in on your decision to have yet another baby.
Do you even have time for another baby?
Of course you do, just like you have time for your golden retriever at the end of your day when the cleaning lady/ nani has already fed “Buddy” breakfast and dinner and has taken him on his very much talked about “long walks” by you.

What happened to the old lesson that taught us well when we were of a younger mind and had to prioritize and make sacrifices? To think about things before we just went for them, i.e. The responsibilities that were outlined to you by your parents when you asked for a dog. These don’t exist in the tri state area apparently, nor does the concept of excess.

I am watching a woman down her low grade quality deli coffee with a second trimester finalizing its form and pushing through her inappropriate clothing. She’s wearing of course the only uniform to be found at this early hour in this town and the surrounding stretch of suburbia miles: lulu lemon top, pants, and zip up Hoodie.

Here’s two things she doesn’t know besides that I can see exactly what she’s wearing for underwear because those $100 bad boys are totally see through.

1. The dangers of drinking low quality coffee. http://www.bulletproofexec.com/why-bad-coffee-makes-you-weak/
2. Caffeine during pregnancy – http://healthpsych.psy.vanderbilt.edu/Web2007/caffeinePregnant.htm

It matters not that the child may have a defect, that’s for her to conquer. But right now in this town’s public school there is a five year old that was born deaf and blind but that’s nothing, so the kid is attending public school everyday with a seeing-eye dog!

The parents of this child, and parents all over are making choices that put themselves first regardless of consequences. They don’t have the sense to accept that their dollar can’t fix everything, and in a town like this not even the principal is compelled to protect the education of the rest of her kindergarten class.

Imagine the class of five year olds and how focused they must be to not get distracted by this Labrador sitting in the middle of their classroom. It’s really increasing their productivity and the parents of this otherwise known as disabled child, (in every other town) are doing an exemplary job at pushing their child’s limits by seeing what he/she is capable of without having to fall back on labels as antiquated as “handicapped.”

By the way did you see Lulu’s new email,
Brisk Air Don’t Care.

So Here’s The Deal

They’re never going to make pizza like they used to. Unless its by some old guy that maybe closes the door when his hours are through, leaving you outside even if you have been on line for some time and yes you will be forced to watch him eat dinner slowly and deliberately through his barely curtained windows. Also I know this because they don’t do anything quite like they used to. More than that is a muffin is purely a way for you to feel better about eating cake for breakfast. I mean what the hell is a muffin?

Take Winter for example, what the hell happened to a little work ethic? Or maybe she has bi-polar disorder? I’ve started talking to myself again, yes making crazy scenarios where I am an amazing rapper who gets their kicks off and becomes famous off of one song that demoralizes Jay Z, but seriously can I just have one more joy of a true snow storm please, before I die and I don’t know when that is, so don’t make it seem like you know more than me by telling me how young I am. I am young enough to know better than to listen to your shit. K.

Now, I went to Cross County today, as in the Mall. For some of you who did not have the broken privilege of growing up in Yonkers, where I thought it would be a better idea to use the Powerhouse Gym’s bathroom than the pizzeria. Don’t make my same mistake. If there’s anything I can use this blog for, its to tell you where bad bathrooms are.

Secondly, I want to personally thank Rocco Venusio for taking the time out to do something I think all of us should have done. But, and I hate to use a double edged sword, we were probably too busy to do it. If you are not familiar with this posting, http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10200385256373605&set=a.2304195203949.137682.1221323982&type=1&theater&notif_t=photo_reply,      but so you can have your own 15 minutes, please by all means. twogirlsandapuppy is their facebook name. Which immediately brings me to main point of the night.

What rocco and nearly everyone else may not know is that I received this request for a like from twogirlsandapuppy and I couldn’t tell you who shared it from my friends, because there are a lot of pathetic people out there that look at furry prepubescent animals online and some of them happen to be my friends. No this doesn’t make them bad people, it makes them normal, and the rest of us interesting. I originally liked it. I have absolutely no reason why I like things on facebook. I feel like I am supposed to have some sort of activity while perusing through and so here and there I like something. Who wants to be that guy that doesn’t like anything? Not me. But..my immediate first thought when I looked at these pink pancake rosy cheeked girls’ picture and plea for a punching bag (puppy) and how daddy was somehow involved, right wrong or indifferent was the  that he let his little girls create a facebook name: two girls and a puppy. Do we not remember two girls and a cup? I certainly don’t! He then let them post a picture of their faces online. This instantly tells me that he’s the kind of daddy that buys his daughters fake titties. I always wanted to know what these kinds of girls were pre-porn/stripping/or-just-really-drunk-and-talking-to-you-late-night-at-the-bar/diner-to-have-sex career.

And here’s your joke for the evening:

An atheist was seated next to a little girl on an airplane and he turned to
her and said, “Do you want to talk? Flights go quicker if you strike up a
conversation with your fellow passenger.”
The little girl, who had just started to read her book, replied to the total
stranger, “What would you want to talk about?”
” Oh, I don’t know,” said the atheist. “How about why there is no GOD, or no
Heaven or Hell, or no life after death?” as he smiled smugly.
“OK,” she said. “Those could be interesting topics but let me ask you a
question first.
A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff – grass.
Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, but
a horse produces clumps. Why do you suppose that is?”
The atheist, visibly surprised by the little girl’s intelligence, thinks
about it and says, “Hmmm, I have no idea.”
To which the little girl replies, “Do you really feel qualified
to discuss why there is no GOD, or no Heaven or Hell, or no life after
death, when you don’t know shit?”
And then she went back to reading her book.

Thank you and Good night.

Tea Talk

My tea told me:

“It’s not the LIFE you have but the COURAGE you bring to it.”

The other day, not an extraordinary day, I was driving with an infinite sadness sitting shotgun. An infinity of irreparable and inevitable concerns stared at me and controlled my imagination, begging me to find ways to die in hopes for an effortless victory over me in my pending defeat.

But I changed fate. And it’s not like, I am so strong. I beat depression. Yea right. This isn’t the sort of thing you can come at aggressively, or with certainty of any kind.

I mean it. No matter what.

I even I heard myself say, “I just want to die.”

Even when that happens, no amount of muscle will do. And it happened just like that, in my voice making my face quiver and then ended. I didn’t have any part in it, but I feel like I mouthed it and won’t ever know if I did.

Psychology turns on a dime, those that think and discuss it, but also our own individual psyche, and while these changes are completely natural, they aren’t happening in ways that tsunamis, twisters and other disasters occur.

I thought of all the ways that my life is different now than it has been. How most things have just worked out so smoothly. And one decision led to another, bringing about great coincidences, and the whole thing seems like a grand concerted effort, but it isn’t. Luck and adaptability certainly play their part, but it takes courage to not give into habits and behavioral patterns that should be avoided.

So bring some COURAGE to your table now and forever. Drink Yogi Tea

Tea Talk

“Inspiring others towards happiness brings you happiness” was written on my tea bag, today. It brought me to the realization that while this may be true, I can assure you that I’m not happy enough to even consider anyone else’s joy.

Yet every time I feel like this, the depths of people’s misery still shocks me.

And talking about this makes me feel naïve. Can someone tell me why it’s so un-adult like to be happy? Or maybe that’s nuts, of course people are happy.

So happy that they are willing to pay extra to sit behind some curtain at the head of the plane. A first class ticket, and Delta’s “Keep Cimbing” tagline. That’s not flight they speak of, it’s you and your strife to keep your head above water. Challenging you to make more money so you can pay them to ride the front of the plane.

This plane lands at same time, right?

These first class seats among many other customs that keep things in boxes, indoctrinates our youth into blind hate, violence, and greed, not happiness. The front section of the plane dates back to segregation, as does most municipalities.

How can we ask anyone to make a change when this lack of humanity is reinforced in everything we do?

But this is only a small example of careless messaging and its irreparable damage.

When will this nation crack down on the advertising it produces?

And when did rape become a light word?

Does it only strike me as odd that we are all ready to discuss abortion with the one stipulation being rape? Is it that common and all of us know babies are being had from aggressive sexual predators, that we can silently agree that it would be common enough to consider as the one obvious exception.

I wonder why anyone would become desensitized to rape.

Is it because the word victim seems too technical for sex and the persistent savage mentality plaguing our society.

And how weird it is that when Religion finds it convenient it invokes the puritan in everyone so that these antiquated views interfere with progressive legislation?

Getting Pres

Where did our respect for the President go? But not just the person, but the Presidency. Disrespectful banter and  bashing jokes date back to Bush, but please America, let us not be another version of that guy. The one that knows his flaws, but is without enough maturity to correct bad habits.

This is a time for us to decide what we respect, promote and honor from our people. I can’t help but draw a connection from the presidential election to a job interview. On the one hand, the applicant is supposed to be confident and authoritative, but a wise employer should want someone that is humble and still willing to ask questions.

The President in every election deserves respect. I’d like to remind people (including myself) that we are not going to be president, and we do not know all of the pieces even if we were courageous enough to try to put them together.

I watched Michelle Obama smile back at the hungry hands of the front row from Last night’s debate. I observed how she didn’t have her children with her and yet, I wonder if I only noticed it’s contrast to the new faces on the other side of the stage. This one’s uncle, his half-sister’s cousin, and that girl that lives down the street. I mean who were these people, that Mitt is grabbing onto, kissing and hugging, as if something, anything, actually just happened?

But wait Mitt didn’t get off stage. His wife tried to save him, from himself, but her arms couldn’t fit around his ego, I mean chubby waist.

The president walks off stage and Mitt turns with a gangsta nod, maybe because he planned all along to be the last president standing. You could tell and this scares the shit out of me.

Let’s say we have a president that becomes crazed with fame. A male version of Lyndsay Lohan, her mom, and Oprah, but to be fair I recently saw Obama on my facebook feed, with a specific example.

Image

Mr. Jay and Beyonce Z. This is too much people, as in Cra Z, and Beyonkas. Jay Z has done nothing to enhance our culture. He has offered little intelligence or social inspiration. His musical prowess and productions are not the issue. A musician is not of political thought, and to let a musician like Jay Z be glorified is honoring his wealth despite his perversions in everything else.

So the real question is: Is the burden on Obama to reclaim respect for presidency?

And can we blame him for using celebrities as a gateway to that respect?

Mitt sat next to him making this doll face, at times puckering his lips like he wanted to make love to Obama, all so we wouldn’t be able to discern any reaction. Mitt says things like: When I’m president…..and it just sounds out of tune, loud and unwelcome against Obama’s humble language, or have we interpreted the current president’s ‘if’s’, and ‘would’s’ to be affects of weakness rooted in incompetency?

We could just consider making presidency an 8 year term?
Nothing happens quickly people.