The X Chromosome - Afterword to WCBH

Foreword: I want to thank the WCBH for their marvelous storytelling. Supa, Tammy-Tam, Miss Ahmad, One Cool Sista, and The Diva did a wonderful job with storytelling. In your own style, your own way. You may click on the links for a re-cap.

And, I dedicate this post to you. (Okay, enough of that General Foods International Coffee Sheeat).

With that said:

All my life, I have resisted who I am. There are reasons for this, but I choose today to leave them behind.

For most of my life, I have not had good relationships with women. It has culminated into me not having the support system that women should have, present company included. I can readily admit now that it was for many reasons, some of which I am indicating below.

I don't have many positive role models for women in my family. I'm not perfect, nor do I expect to ever be so. But if you saw some of the women (my generation AND back), I didn't look upon them as favorable. I am not saying this to be classist. Let me explain myself.

I don't qualify highly educated, wealthy, successful, baller people as role models in particular. Culture and lifestyle choices did not dictate many women from generations past the ability to achieve that. For myself, I am referring to women who can't even meet responsibilities to themselves. Lazy, addicts, mentally deranged, self absorbed, and anything in between. Just some bizarre sheeat. THESE WOMEN, WOMEN IN MY FAMILY. As a result, I believe I adapted to not having many of them to turn to, subsequently becoming an introvert.

In high school, I had female friends, but most of them were childhood friends. Was never interested in any more after that. Even the ones that I have made from college and beyond. I start to care for them and then pull back. I don't know why.

Well, yes I do.

I think that sometimes, if I am pro-woman relationships, that I am anti-man. Furthermore, and I've always been uncomfortable with women with that (male bashing) thought pattern, and I saw A LOT of that growing up in the 80's and 90's. And I often felt as if I couldn't relate to women, because I didn't have the same feelings about men that many of them did. Not realizing that everyone is NOT like that.

I know this sounds bizarre, but this was how I was feeling, and still struggle with. If I find that a group of women are planning something, I shy away, because I don't want to be involved in a cackling fiasco of a bunch of BBW's (Bitter Black Women).

**Memo to WCBH: I did have a conference I attended this past weekend; I was not cowering in a corner, waiting for your night to be over before I could come out of hiding.** :P

I have often times believed that if I became too close to women, that I would begin to love them too much, rely on them, look forward to being around them. And in that, I didn't want to realized that I was also equally concerned about being betrayed by the very same women that I relied upon. This is the point, ladies and gentlemen, where I begin to pull back. And I now know that this is wrong and I take responsibility for this. Especially if someone has proved their character to me.

So, I kept to myself. I talked to males, and my select few of women friends in my so called inner circle. But even with them. I kept my distance. I developed a pretense of everything being okay at all times. In that, the cost of that has been not having anyone to turn to when something went down, being the caretaker instead of care FOR the caretaker. The impact of this has been limited relationships with the female gender.

I didn't realize, until recently, that I do need women. Trust me when I tell you that this is NO easy feat to admit and type, and I do have the possibility of regressing.

I need them because:

- I can communicate with them for support, guidance, and advice
- I need that dose of ESTROGEN every now and again!
- I can have a good time with them without having to worry about beating that 'high score'
- We can exchange stories, skeletons, w/no questions asked well, not really no questions, you know how WE do it. . .the more, the merrier!
- In loving them, I am allowing myself to love my men better.

So with that, I am creating the possibility for myself and my life, the possibility of loving. Loving the sistas in my life, and loving being around them. Loving the sista girls for who they are - and who they are not.

WCBH: See you on the next go-round.

Live from LA, this is P, reporting to you from K-PAT FM, the Pattyopolis Network.

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See you later this week!

California Love. . .

I've had it.

I've had it from my in house California whiners as well as 'ex' Californians who have beef with the Sunshine State.

"California has a high cost of living"
"California's home prices are too high"
"California people have attitudes"
"Traffic sucks in LA" (Okay, well traffic DOES suck in LA)
"I'm moving to Las Vegas, Arizona", etc, (or any of the other 'hot on the streets cities' right now.)

I'm not talking 'bout folks moving because they want to move to another state for career purposed, or a slower paced lifestyle, or even for the aforementioned reasons.

BUT. Why do you have to badmouth my lovely state? You may not care for it anymore, but there are plenty of people who do (present company included). I certainly, considering that yes, I do find issue with some things that go on here, full on understand that Cali ain't for errr-body, and errr-body ain't for Cali. . .

Have I ever thought about moving? Sure: To Hotlanta, Denver (for some reason I'm obsessed with Denver and have never been there), New York (Manhattan in particular) Dallas, and New Orleans (that's out). Hey, and eventually, maybe I will and maybe I won't, but not because I'm fleeing the CA. Just because I want to.

Everwhere you go, you are going to take issue with something. I was not born out here, but I was raised here. In the city that I was born in, the houses are a steal, but the gas prices are sky high. My father's gas/electric bill was five hundred dollars for the month. (His house payment is only 400.00).

With that said, I'm about to give it to you straight, with no chaser.

Yes, there is a premium for living in California. I full on understand that. You are paying for many things, comparable to what you are paying for to live in New York City as well. Perhaps people bitch about that as well who live there, but I don't have to hear it.

Sidebar: This is for CA residents who understand this part, IN particular: So many people out here move to the sticks of California, so that they can afford a home. I'm not knocking, it because I don't own that kind of property, yet. But I will be dayum if I drive a hundred miles inland, EACH WAY, with wear and tear on my car, health, and livelihood (not to mention the small fortune in gas), just so I can say I have a three bedroom 2.5 bath with a foyer.

If you move out of California because you can't afford a house out here, just say so. But don't bad mouth it. Why. . .

Because California is home to so many important things, first of which are world famous authors , artists, political commentators, florence nightengales, behind the scenes movers and shakers, and teacher extraodinaires.

It is also home to:

La Jolla (and La Jolla Beach, near San Diego, California, one of the most beautiful beaches and locations in all of CA)

LA Slauson Swap Meet - The place where you can find anything and everything for your all too ghetto fabulous friends and family!

Rodeo Drive - Your own personal wish list, and if you do your money right, the place to go for style specific things: The LV, Gucci, Tiffany, Boss, DeBeers, Coach, Guess, Prada, all their own stores, how fun is that!?!

OJ Simpson Bronco Chase. Sorry kids, had to be there. If YOU think that it was exciting seeing it on TV, imagine knowing that this brother was passing through in your town. Talk about some NegroMustSeeTV!

Monterey, CA - A beautiful Central Coast community, full of quaint bed and breakfast inns, and an aestetically pleasing location for relaxing, and honeymooning.

West Coast Rappers! Snoop Doggy, Dogg. . .THE DAWG. Not to mention Dre, Tupac, NWA,

The San Fran-Cisco Golden Gate Bridge - A true San Francisco Treat! Mildy frightening to drive over, but hey, I'm a thrill seeker.

Home of Numerous Infamous Killers, up to and including:

Richard Ramirez, the Night Stalker, Erik and Lyle Menenedez and Scott Petersen.

AND, last but not least

Home of Melrose Place and Beverly Hills 90210 (Literally and Figuratively)!

We doing BIG THANGS out here in the Califor-Eye-A!

Live, from California, this P, reporting to you from K-PAT FM, the Pattyopolis Network. . .

PS: Do any of y'all get any beef about where y'all stay?

KPAT-FM's All Time Greatest Spankings

All this talk about Justin X and his current troubles, coupled with what Miss Ahmad had to say about getting in trouble has got me to thinking of all the horrific things that I got caught up in as a child. Well, I shouldn't say horrific, actually, considering I was a moderately well mannered child (or, at least I thought I was).

I think there are three times in my life that I've done things that are absolutely ridiculous. Sidebar: Whether or not your believe in parents spanking children is not the issue here, so if you take issue with that you are welcome to take it up with Fox News Sundays, Anderson Cooper 360 , or America's Black Forum.

So, I've listed my top three eff ups that have landed me in the hot seat (pun intended). I've left out the resident not coming inside on time, calling long distance number you didn't have any business doing, and not doing your chores. For me, these are the top three doozies:

Eff Up Number One: Second Grade. I went with my mother to my sisters junior high school Open House. Me, being me, and the baby of the family that I am, they were showing off all of my sisters awards and what not, and nobody was paying attention to me. I tried to get her attention, and she paid attention - to a point. But bottom line, she was there for my sister's open house. So, again, me not understanding the consequences and repercussions of what I was about to do, proceed to do something that is going to really get her attention. SO, I proceed to sit down on the floor (over my pleather coat), and pee. Yes, ladies and gentleman, not only did I pee on my pleather coat, but right on the floor of the library. My mother saw it seeping out from behind the jacket. Needless to say, I got it, and I got it good when I got home. I actually thought I was smooth sailing because I had taken a bath, dried off, and put on my clothes. My father spanked me that night. That was actually the first and last time that he did so (remember, I wasn't like a Bebe Kid or anything - I was pretty good).

Eff Up Number Two: Third Grade, Age Eight. This is the one that I call the grand-daddy of them all. Chucky, the neighborhood Billy Bad Ass, was across the street throwing pennies in the street. Of course, people were running into the street, grabbing them and waiting for more. I wasn't outside; however, I WAS witnessing what he was doing from the second story window of our house. Once again, me being the attention whore child that I was. I wasn't being the center of attention, decided that I wanted to 'one-up' him. So, what do I do. . .I go into my oldest sister's (18 years) room and grab her jar of silver dollars, gold coins, etc., and proceed to throw them in the air. Of course, this caused some PANDEMONIUM with the five to six kids that thought they had hit the jackpot, who in the fuuuck did I think I was the friggin Wiz making dreams come true or something? Did I mention that my sister's jewerly and class ring were in there, too. Yeah.

Well, who comes strolling down the street, and messes up all the fun. My middle sister (AKA the Family Stone). She was the girl on the block, that everybody was scared of. She screamed for everyone to put the money down and then she told me "Ooh, immatellmama!" I was so scared.

My mother was pissed. She called all the parents of the kids who had the loot, and dragged me to all the homes (they were on the same block) and had me retrieve the goods. Then I got spanked from one house to the next.

Yeah, I had that one coming.

Eff up number three: I was in the seventh grade, and my BFF at that time was Kim. She asked me to come over after school, and I said okay. (Nevamind that my momma told me to come straight home). But I liked Kim's house because they always had good sandwich bread and meat and we could have BBQ Lays chips and drinks. We went to her house and watched the Edge of Night, ABC Afterschool Special, then Video one, and then hung outside and played for awhile. Around six thirty, Kim's mom came home. She told me that she would take me home in about an hour. So about seven I decided to call my mom (FOR THE FIRST TIME. . .SCHOOL LET OUT AT 2:45 and let her know that I would be home around seven forty five. My mother was hot. She was like "You are going to get a whooping when you get home". I snickered. In my mind, I was like "Yeah, right, what YOU gone do, I'm twelve years old, okaaayy?" Man, as soon as I got in the door, it was on. . .That actually, was the last spanking I ever got. I don't even think that was a spanking, that was a whoopin.

So, readership, now it's your turn.

What sit-chi-a-shuns have gotten your behind in hot water? Spanking or no, I just wanna here the eff-ups.

The One That Got Away. . .

Yep.

I've had a few. And I've also been targeted as 'the one who got away'. BUT THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY. . .Maybe this is in God's design, but I know, that my foolishness accounted for a lot of it. As a result, I lost a solid, good man, who is solid gold to this day.

How I met him

When I was in junior college, a girlfriend of mines was 'talking' (what y'all know about that old school word, huh?) to another guy, and he had a friend (you know how that was back in the day). So, I readily went to meet him.

Boy was I impressed. He was tall, very attractive, well built, had a house, a decent car, no children, and he was only 25 years old! He worked for a major beverage manufacturer, and, me being me, I was like "Oh, you drive their trucks or something?" And he said, "No, dear, I'm in management". I was like oh.

"Kevin" would cook dinner for me, invite me over, and take me out. When I would drive over in my 1981 Toyota Cressida. . . Sidebar: Don't trip, I bought the car when it was nine years old you couldn't tell me Nathan in that). Sidebar: I really did think I was supa cute in my little automatic seatbelt Toyota Cressida, with my Guy, En Vogue, Troop, and Karyn White tapes in my car. Oh, my GOD, and I had a feather in my hair, too! Talk about being a freak.

Back to the lecture at hand: So, I would come over in my car, he would leave me in his house, come back, and would have filled up my gas tank for me. He was never fresh with me, and was always very respectful. . .Sometimes we would go to his house and watch American Gladiators, sometimes we would go out to the Red Onion (this is some back in the day Cali stuff FYI), and other times we would just hang out on the phone. . . Or for at least as long as I would let him.

What Went Wrong

Well, what do you THINK went wrong? At that time, my nose was wide open for this other fool I had met at the 3rd annual Soul Train Music Awards (this was when Lutha, Patti, and Dionne Warwick were hosting). I got a job as security through a friend of mines. My little job was supposed to be guarding Patti and Dionne's dressing room. (Like what is my unarmed a$$ supposed to do if somebody really tried to do something). Girl, so anyway, it was just a way to be at the awards show. I met him there. I was 'sprung' (nuther old school term) on him, and he was the first guy that I really did pretty much everything that allows me to make it a blockbuster night NOW! But of course, he was a playa. I'm sitting at home waiting on his calls, and of course, while waiting, I'm spending my time talking to "Kevin".

Sometimes my phone would click and it would be dude, and I would never click back to Kevin. I would go over his house and sit waaayyy on the other side of the couch just looking like a deer in headlights. Don't get me wrong; if you don't like someone, you don't like them. But that wasn't the issue. I liked him, I just liked the fool more. . .

Eventually, he got sick of the clicking over and not coming back. The coming over and shrinking to the other side of the couch, and just not being who I should have been. Can I chalk it up to age. . .Sure. But I won't. I take full on responsibility for being rude to him. He really like-ded-ded me, yanno?

Where He Is Now

I was reading about the coca cola strike one day in the LA times, and I saw where a manager was on the front lines, talking to the workers.

One guess as to who the manager was. . .

I nearly keeled over and broke my french manicured acrylic nails in the process. I don't even bite my nails and I had my hands in my mouth. I called my friend who works in Jury Services (Hey, supa, you know her, don'tcha?) and gave her his first and last name (I had forgotten his last name until I saw it in the paper. . .

This fool was still in the same house!

Me being me, I'm thinking "Wow, I could have gotten additions on the house at this point, been married ten plus years, maybe punched out a few kids, gotten a home equity line of credit on the house, and purchased more property, etc" (on his sheeat, mind you. . .)

Oh. . .Yeah, there were two other women living in the household, too, I found out. Looks like that's who he put as an emergency contact. Minor details. One had the same last name as him, and one didn't. So I deduced.

1. One maybe was his mother.
2. One was either his wife or girlfriend, who he is probably banging well, on a daily basis, because she comes home and is a good woman to him.

The good woman that I was not, at least not at that time.

Oh, well, such is life. If 'if's were fifths, we'd all be drunk. Yeah, I know that, too. But I do wonder 'what if?'

Ever been in a similar situation? Has anyone ever told you that you were the 'One Who Got Away?"

A Blogger's Tale

Dedicated to my blogger Fam-Bam. . .

As I was strolling on an unusually warm spring day, a koolbreeze hit me in my face. It could not come soon enough. It was such a joyous feeling. The sandals, sunglasses, and hat notwithstanding, the unusual temperatures were beating down on LA with a fierceness. This was spring, what happened to the April luv we were supposed to be getting at this time of year? I looked forward to relaxing shortly, at the spot, under a Cool AC.

Who am I? I am a registered nurse practitioner. A cute one at that. You might call me just a diva in scrubs. Currently, I am single, not particularly satisfied with it, but it is voluntary. My last boyfriend was cool, enough, I just think that we had too many personality conflicts. So, right now, I am on the prowl, on the search for rellevance, N Search of Ecstasy, and looking for Mr. Right – or Mr. Right Now.

I live modestly, but tastefully. I am tall, six feet even, and I like to rock the heels. People call me glamorous, an amazon, and that I’m living life to the fullest. Does that mean that I am living the Glamazon Life? HAHA, I crack myself up.

My personality profile is this: I tend to think that I am sexy, a superstar, funny, witty, with a hint of being sarccastik. Sometimes I can run my mouth so much it feels like you are in a whirlwind, But hey, that’s what makes me so irresistible. It’s what the good stuff is made of. I’m a well bred girl, born and raised in da durty south, a true Georgia Peach. Though, all in all, considering they pulled an Amistad on us, I like to pretty much think of myself as an African Girl in an American World.

I try and live my life with as much serenity and calm as possible, considering there is enough drama going on in this world. I try not to be one of those sisters that will drive a brother nuts with their attitudes, demands, and unreasonable expectations. I mean the way some women, particularly sisters can cut up sometimes, no wonder so many brothers tend to be on the verge of dating white girls.

But of course, I’m not here to crack on the sisters. We get down. We are ride or die chicks. We can dress and stomp with the best of them, cook clean, and be a hooka in the streets, without fail. I am a testament to that, I can strike a match and call myself a pure - d Supa Sista! We know how to sing, dance, comfort, entertain, and get down raw dawg buffalo style with a quickness. . .

Right, now, I'm on my way to listen to this new group drop some beats at The Cocoa Lounge, a kind of artsy-fartsy blacka-owned establishment uptown. A Cocoa Girl at a Cocoa Lounge, how cool is that?

Okay, this place rocks. I'm so loving this place. You always see people that are hella cool. Sometimes they play music, other times, they have praise dancers, sometimes it's spoken word - you know, homegrown poetry and essays. One in particular I like is J to the G, she drops rhymes and philosophcizes about deep sheeat. She actually reads directly out of her journal which lays credibility to her rhymes; we informally have it pegged as the Diary of Jaimie. I wonder if that's a prop or is all that stuff true? Whatever scene or room you choose to be in, this place is full of life and love seven days a week. Most of all, I love this place. It's a place where I can let my hair down, forget about my life, my shit, and just concentrate on being me.

You see all kinds of folks here. I'm waiting right now on my Malibu Rum and Pineapple drink, just surveying the place. Okay, hold up. No, that girl Tam is NOT over there flirting with the bartender just to get a free drink! Not cute. Okay, well maybe she wasn't, but that's what it looks like. And look at THIS cat! There is this brother that always comes in that it like totally pimped out. I have him pegged as Dressed to a T-Casanova type guy. I mean he stays suited and booted, he must be the closet owner of all kinds of designer gear!

Oh yeah, and the owner of the establishment gives her opinions from time to time as well, and if you are within earshot, the sheeat is hilarious! See, before she moved out here, she was livin' and lovin' life in Iowa, and this place was a little bit of culture shock for her. She always starts her sentences off with "I just want to know WHY. . ." and then she goes into it! She calls them Missy's Mental Musings. See why I love this place? It's kind of in the cut, but it has a cult following. And people are always wondering, what am I doing here? Well, you can see why!

And don't let her husband Dallas Penn get in the middle of it he's louder than her, he always says "Baby tell 'em the truf, but you know these folks, they can't handle the truf". They're cool, though, they are like our ghetto style humanity critics.

Looks like the show's about to start. I guess that's it for now. You've seen a little bit of what I like to do and what I like to be involved in. The Memoirs of A Non-Geisha, I guess you can call it.

So, what do you think? I'm One Cool Sista, huh?

The White Man Has the Power!

Or, so I thought. . .but at least I thought that's the deal was. Perhaps there was a double entendre going on, as least in my mind!

What, might you ask, am I referring to?

Well, I'm referring to the fact that often times, we recite words of a song, thinking we're precocious children, know it all teenagers, up on thangs young adults, and got it going on grown folks. Tam and I were talking about this the other day, so I decided to write about it!

I myself, have fallen victim to several re-wording of songs. Like to hear it, hear it goes.

Steve Wonder has a song, and I would sing this song all day when I was a child. I would say "You're the Only Woman, What's wrong with me, You're the only woman, baby can't you see?" Who knew that the song was "Boogie On Reggae Woman?" Who knew?

Atlantic Starr - If you're heart Isn't in it. I used to say "It's a bad time situation. . .It could fall apart at any time. . ." Well, it's a fragile situation and it's a bad time situation, isn't it all the same, anyway? :)

Doobie Brothers - What A Fool Believes - Well, how I was I supposed to know that he was saying "No Wise Man Has the Power to reason away". I would yell as a child "The White Man Has the Power, it's slipping away!"

Planet Rock - I don't know anything about that song except for Rock, Rock, to the Planet Rock, don't stop and it's the Soul, Sonic Force! Everything else about that song is a blur.

Good Times - I kind of get the impression that all of us knew the same words. I tell you what, I used to say "Easy Cradle Rip Off" instead of "Easy Credit Rip Offs". I also didn't know the last sentence right before "Ain't we lucky we got em, which is" "Hanging in a Chow Line (Good Times)", until I saw Dave Chappelle talk about it on his show!

Bennie and the Jets - First of all, this is one of my all time greatest songs, but who knew the words to this. But I guarantee you, that everyone here that knows about old school has sung this entire song, and loved every bit of it. I'm about to let y'all know the lyrics of the part that I KNOW all of y'all sing, so stop frontin: She's got electric boots a mohair suit You know I read it in a magazine (eeeh, oooh!). BBB Bennie and the Jets (Yo a$$ knew that part, didn'tcha!. (By the way, I just looked that sheeat up). Iknowwhatyoudoin, you're humming in in your mind trying to figure out what you have been saying all these years, arentcha! Isn't that one of the greatest live recordings?!?

By the way, I still don't sing Stevie Wonder and Elton John songs they way the lyrics are spelled out; too traumatizing. I would rather keep it safe and pure in my little childlike mind.

I could go on and on (you have no idea), but I won't. I know this much is true. . . I KNOW I am not the only one. So, readers. . .It is your turn.

What songs have you effed up, and, have you gotten it right, yet?

Co-Workers from Hell

I remember, on the Kings of Comedy, I believe, that DL Hughley said that there is always one co-worker where you are this close to whipping their a$$. Of course, considering that the audience roared with laughter, and he also mentioned "Well, if you're not laughing, you are probably the one that everybody doesn't like".

Yes, that co-worker. The crazy, deranged, coworker. The tattletale, the one that will throw you under the bus. The hoverer, the finger pointer, the resident kiss ass, and anything in between. You name it, we've got them. I've got a few that is this close to going on workers compensation with me.

Co-worker number one: She's an administrative assistant. She thunders down here on a regular basis, hoo-banging on either my supervisor, or myself. She constantly makes a mountain out of a molehill and tries to monopolize your time on a bunch of tomfoolery she can handle on her own. She is never at her desk, because everytime she needs something, she barrels down to the department in question and hovers at their desk until at least they give her a tentative answer. She generally doesn't deal with me unless absolutely necessary. She has told other people in and out of my department that I hate her. I do not hate her. I just don't respond to her hoo-banging, and she knows that.

Co-worker number two: The girl is a hot mess. She is classic for throwing people under the bus. I don't deal with her at all. One time, she asked where does a computer get returned to for a resigning employee. I referred her to the IT department. She then proceeded to rant and rave about how, because I work in HR, it is MY job to do this and that she shouldn't have to run around and figure this out. She cc'd my supervisor and hers. First off, I'm not IT, who do I look like, Dilbert? Second, you return old computers to the IT department. Third, just so all of you know, I'm not a big fan of cc'ing folks, unless they need to be included in the email for FYI purposes. Do not do it to CYA. The CYA IS your email. And if you think that cc'ing your supervisor and mines is going to make me jump you have another thing coming, I'm not intimidated by your supervisor or mines, so you can just forget that. I actually told my supervisor "You can respond to her, because I KNOW you don't want me to!" She has also been well documented (and J to the G) can testify to this, as to throwing her own department employees under the bust, getting them this close to being disciplined and/or terminated.

Co-worker number three: Chronic Complainer. Nothing is ever right for her. She is also an administrative assistant, who complains about her pay on a regular basis. She is upset that she is getting _______________ amount of money less than other admins. Look, you signed on the dotted line for your amount, and they negotiated for another amount. Is your department head REALLY supposed to up the ante on your salary nearly 20 percent (which is what she wants) because you don't like what you are getting paid. One, develop some more skill sets other than sashaying around the office talking about your pay. Then you will have the ammo to present a salary increase, instead of balking about your pay. That taints your character. Two, secure other employement if you are dissatisfied with your pay that much. Finally, what kind of precedent does she think that this will make if they just give her a 20 percent pay increase on GP? If that's the case, I want one, too.

Co-worker number four: He asks you these 'don't be afraid to ask dumb questions' questions, and then wonder why you are staring at him in disbelief. Such as "My bank won't cash my checks anymore because I put in the payroll system my nickname instead of my birthname", or "If employees get paid unlimited jury duty how many days is that", or "Why should I let my employees have a stress day off - Even though they were robbed at gunpoint, no one was hurt".

Co-worker number five: Sometime during the day, she will repeat something that you said where you KNOW you weren't talking that loud. Does it with you and everyone else. She also notices if she THINKS you have on something new, or if someone came in late, or if someone has been on the phone a little too much. Man, relax, go get some, do something, but stay out of grown folks bidness!

Co-worker number six: Passenger/Shotgun/Jailhouse HR Consultant. They attempt to recite what is going on in the HR world via the Labor Law Manual, or proceed to recite what they know out of the union book. Problem is, they conveniently leave out any caveats, or recite it improperly, but it sure sounds good to the lay person, who tries to use it as ammunition. Example Employee: "The union contract says that I get sick pay". HR (me:)"Yes it does, but if you have less than one year of service, the entire time is unpaid". Shut the eff up.

Had to be said, enough said.

So, who is your co-worker from hell, past or present? Do tell. . .

Can't We All Just Get Along?

I was reading Supa's post about getting out of jury duty, and I started hyperlinking into different posts and topics regarding her sister. This was before I was in the blogging community, so I had no idea of the tragic circumstances surrounding her sister.

That got me to thinking. Here is a woman that desperately misses her sister, and has to live without her physically every day for the rest of her natural life on this earth.

And, here I have a sister who I wish was dead.

I should not say that. I don't actually literally feel that way, but because I can be honest on here, I'm telling, you theoretically, that I often wonder would it be better, at least, if her children KNEW where she was. Lately, as it is going on four years of her being gone, would that be better.

She got out of jail on Saturday in Las Vegas, where she has lived for the past four years, and she called me house, did not say hi, did not say anything, but scream in my ear "Do you know where momma is?" Well, that triggered so many emotions in me, one of which was "Bitch, this is MY phone; don't call my house asking where momma is", and proceeded to slam the phone down in her face, well, as dramatic as you can slam down a cordless phone, doesn't give off the same effect, yanno?

Both my aunt and my dad told my mother (and this was confirmed through my caller ID as well), that she was calling from a '925' area code. 925 area code out here is in Northern California/San Francisco/Pleasanton California area. Well, for the past four years, she has 'resided' for lack of a better word, in Las Vegas. My mother, being the naive (not dumb, just naive to the seedy ways of the world - and people), is puzzled as to why she is now in Northern California, and is now wondering if she is trying to 'work' her way back home.

I don't have the heart to tell her that my sister probably headed out of dodge as soon as she got out of jail, and that she probably set up shop in another major metropolitan, considering the police probably have harassed her enough there. I don't have the heart to tell her that her daughter is a whore, and that they move around in areas once they keep getting caught. I don't have the heart to tell her that if her daughter does not straighten up, very soon she will end up in jail, or worse.

With that said, I feel Supa's pain, but I cannot relate. I never had that type of positive relationship with my sister, at least not to memory. She was always easily influenced. The Family Stone was stealing by the age of nine, smoking by the age of thirteen, ditching at the age of 15, a mother by the age of 19, getting investigated on her job for theft by the age of 23, and whatever else you can think of. She used my checks when I was 19 up to 300.00, causing me to lose my bank account for five years and get on chex systems. She used my name on the subway, got caught evading fare, used my name, and I ended up having a warrant for my arrest. She missed my high school graduation because she let her baby daddy use her car, while she caught the bus, and while she paid for his car to be in the shop to get a 24 karat gold steering wheel put on it. (He had a lowered Maxima, you know how that was back in the day).

She has told people I'm a stuck up bitch who is the favorite of the family. She has told people that I not love her or her kids. She has told people that I tell people that she is adopted stepchild (actually, I did question that (hehe) because she acts so friggin weird), she's like that cousin in Soul Food nobody wants to see coming.

I never had a relationship with her where I could talk on the phone, go shopping with her, go over her house and kick it, have dinner. I never told her about my first crushes, pains, agonies or anything like that. I am the baby child, but I often feel like the oldest. I try to like her, but I feel a blockage. I am not bitter, but I just don't like her. I don't know how.

What I want to know is? Is there anyone (family, or foe), that you just can't get along with, and nothing seems to work? Or, have you ever? (PS: They don't have to be as crazy as her; maybe too nosey or messy)

Scenes We Love

Inspired by Supa, Mwabi, and D in DC, all this movie talk lately got me to thinking:

Whether you have a movie night out with your sweetie or the homies, or hang out at the spot with a DVD (doesn't 'video' sound better), movies are always relaxing, and enjoyable as a pastime.

I like movies and music. I think it's a good conversation piece, and it's always an excellent utilization tool to bring people together, particularly when referring to certain scenes.

Scenes we love. We can recite them, cry about them, laugh about them, rejoice in them, cheer for the victor, and boo the spoiler (even though we may secretly vy for them).

Here are some of my favorite scenes - some of which make the movie. Caution/Warning: If you have not seen some of these movies, and do not want to know some of the pivotal scenes in them, then pass 'em on over.

Glory - Denzel Washington. The scene when he was caught trying to get some food (which later turned out to be looking for shoes). When the Colonel ordered him whipped, and Denzel whipped that shirt off of him, the feeling is just, indescribable. And when they commence to whipping. You could feel every lash, every hit, and winced, uncomfortably so especially at first, at what you were witnessing. And Denzel's face, oh, that's classic. And that one tear. Unforgettable. He, himself believes that is what won him the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.

Claudine - Actually, this whole movie is full of classic scenes, but I had to choose just a few. . .The social worker scene ranks upon one of the BEST of ALL TIME! I grew up looking FORWARD to that scene. Just some classic negro MustSeeTV! The other one, when she beat her daughter with a hairbrush, well, at the time, as a child, I didn't understand why. I full on understand now the magnitude and intensity of her frustration behind that. By the way, Claudine is about the age I am now (she's a few years older), but dang if I don't feel like I pale in comparison to her. . . I sure am glad that I don't have six kids, though!

Gladiator - When Maximus is dying at the end, and he is trying to 'open' up the door to the next life, and he pushes the door, I swear you can feel it. Hell, I almost felt like opening the door for him! And that echo-y, operatic music is playing in the background, and then all of a sudden he is called back and he gives the directive that is straight from Marcus Aurelius. And then he is gone. Then, the woman comes out and strolls and gives her final spiel, then says "He was a soldier of Rome. . .Honor him". And she leaves the Ruler of Rome, Commodus (brillantly played by Joaquin Phoenix), right there! Just a bone chilling wonderful moment!

Boyz in the Hood - Two Scenes: Picture is associated with - when they were harassed by the police. Man, when Trey swings his fists in the air, and fights, and then collapses into Nia Long's arms - I think every brother at some point in time in the hood at least, could emphasize with his pain. Second scene is when Rickey is murdered, and he is hauled into the living room by Dough Boy. The next several minutes are painful - and riveting. Anyone who saw that scene in the movies on the big screen - well, your heart was in your throat. (or as we say it, Thoat!)

The Notebook - When she looks up and says "I remember now - It's Us" and he scoops her up in his arms and they dance and start communicating with each other again, and suddenly, out of nowhere, she experiences dementia again, and they cart her off and he his heartbroken. During that scene, aren't you?

The Color Purple - There was something in the air, and they could all feel it. What a wonderful camera angle, when we saw everyone who had came from Africa (Nettie and the children) and Whoopi coming down the stairs towards them. Then we heard that wonderful yelp of "Nettieeeeee!" And her sister was so overwhelmed, she could barely say her name. . .And so you know the rest of the scene, up to and including Mister watching. Didn't you feel like you were there. Classic Negro MustSeeTV!

Mr. Hollands Opus - When Mr. Holland retired, and he didn't think anyone noticed (or cared), and he went in the auditorium, and everyone was waiting, singing and all, and then at the end, when the govenor (one of his former students), asks him to conduct The American Symphony (the score he has been working on all HIS LIFE and the curtain opened and several of his former students were there!) When he started playing and he was near tears and his wife had the camera. Everyone realized, then, more than ever, what a talent they had. I CANNOT watch this scene without bawling.

Kill Bill, Vol. 2 - Of course, we have fantasies of pulling some bomb a$$ stunts, like 'the Bride' executed flawlessly by Uma Thurman). There are many scenes to choose from, but one I like to think of is the one where she was buried alive, and she finally drew from within, remembering her teachings from Pai Mae, and she gets going. Everytime she hits that casket, you feel like that is you, while she gets herself out of that grave. I'm kind of morbid, I've even watched that scene over and over fantasizing about it. Of course, I would prolly end up dead from screaming and crying so loud and wouldn't have gave an eff about Pai Mae's teachings. The accompayning music blends in perfect with the exhilarating, feel good, engrossing moment. Love it.

Crooklyn - When the matriarch of the family passes, the spouse and the children are devastated. It takes the baby (and the only girl, boy-ishly named Troy) awhile to break down, but once she does, she realizes that her mother was in a lot of pain, and she says, very bravely, that she is glad she is not in pain anymore. Then "A Mighty Love" by the Spinners, starts playing softly in the background, and the progresses louder, where you see people talking and laughing, and just moving on in life. It shows that even in the deepest darkest hours, life goes on. . . Love it. Oh, I also like when Troy goes to visit her great aunt in that fancy house and she loses the dog. Gotta see the movie (and know a lot of older stuffy black women) to understand the hilarity (is that a word) of it!

The Five Heartbeats - Who can forget when Eddie Kane Jr. came to the concert after he was replaced by Flash. Weren't you embarassed for him when he was standing there looking (more) slender than usual, with some outdated clothes. And then when he opened up his coat?!? Once again, a classic Negro MustSeeTV moment! And everybody who has seen that movie KNOWS what song he was sanging. . .

Who makes the scores for all these movies, because they are the bomb!

Okay, I know it was a long post. So, do you agree with any of these? I have more, but hey, I could go on and on. . .What are some of your favorites?

Thanks, for Holding it DOWN!

As we wrap up black history month, (so to speak) it's time to send the shout outs to those that have made it possible for us. Those that have held it down, both nationally, personally, and in blogland. You all know the basics in black history - the loves (King, X, Wheatley, Drew, Tubman), and the embarrassingly (Clarence Thomas, Simpson, Jackson (Jesse, Michael), Sniper, Whitney, etc. So, like to hear it, hear it goes.

By the way, this is only a sample. We are so brilliant in what we do, I had to stick some GP stuff in here. After all, it's all good in blogland. . .

Isaac Murphy - He won the Kentucky Derby three times. His winning percentage of 44 percent in all races that he has won, has yet to be matched. He also earned, during his time, ten thousand dollars a year, which was ten times the annual salary for white men. They only began to disappear because of resentment of white racers. Also, did you know that blacks won the first 15 of 28 Kentucky Derbies (Yeah, that's right, we rode horses). That was one of the first skills that we learned as slaves, how to manage and maintain stables. Isaac, thank you. Without you and your trailblazing, we would not have a Marlon St. Julien.

Friday: The Movie - This is some Negro MustSeeTV. Cube: Thanks for giving us a movie to watch, whether it's a date movie, kicking it movie, bored movie, or even being down. We know that this is a place that we can go for some real talk, for some hella laughter, and classic performances by all involved. For that, we thank you.

Madame CJ Walker. My She-Ro. My sista, my sista, thanks for hooking it up! A friend to all black women in need. We can't say enough about her. The woman who revolutionized hair care products. First black millionairess. But most importantly, how in the hell would we be looking without your vision!

Ebony Magazine - The beginnings of being in the know with black celebs. Our blog versions would be Crunk and Disorderly and Dallas Penn . By the way, Crunk and Disorderly is the winner of the 2005 Black Web Blog Award for Best Entertainment Blog. A true guilty pleasure! And DallasPenn, well y'all know those are a group of Crunk and disorderliness on their own right. Theirs is not so much of a guilty pleasure more than it is they are like family. At least hear at K-PAT, we luvs them. But, we would have never been able to serve up the dish without the Beloved John H. Johnson of Ebony Magazine. No Vibe, Vixen, Source, XXL, Dallas Penn, Essence, or anything in between would not have been possible without this trailblazer paving the way. See that picture of Pam Grier (AKA Friday Foster), well that was when the Ebony Magazines were REAL Big (dontacklikeyoudontknowwhatimtalkingbout)


Lorraine Hansberry - A modern day playwright. Wrote the screen play to A Raisin in the Sun. . .Another Negro MustSeeTV movie. . .She no doubt had obstacles in her way, being both black and a woman 40 plus years ago. But she made it happen. She no doubt had support along the way. But she was the initiator. Now, without her and those behind her (considering I KNOW there were many black women screenwriters who tried and failed, not because of their merit, but because of the sign of the times), we would never know and love SupaSista, brilliant author extraordinaire, screenwriter, humorist, future Oprah book of the Month author, and fellow blogger.

Lutha: Lutha, Lutha, Lutha. Somebody on here has slow danced to him, done tha durty durty to his, chilled to this, got blazed on this, stopped what you were doing to this, amongst others. I'm not talking about LUTHER. I'm talking about Lutha, and you know the difference. Nothing compares.


Malcolm X - Not so much for his deeds - but for who he was during the time we needed him - A tall glass of water in an oasis. A breath of fresh air. The man that would talk about the pink elephant in the room. The one that would let us know what the deal was, whether or not it was positive or popular. From that, we get much needed voices such as DPM's On the Verge of Dating White Girls. . . A respected, honest, fresh insight into what a brother has to deal with, realistically, on a daily basis. This, too was also a featured as a noteworthy blog on Six 24. Brother, we need you. Keep it coming, and keep it moving.

Romare Bearden - He developed an artistic reputation that probably surpasses any other modern African American artist. He loved being an abstract expressionist. And abstract art and creativity is difficult to task. He has an exceptional talent for mixing colors, particularly with abstract art. Everyone has gifts and talents, all are not the same, but when we are fortunate to experience bloggers such as Tamra, showcasing art that delivers three dimensional, color blended spectrums tailored to your specifications, then we have truly dived into the world or Artsy Fartsy Creations.

And as for all of you. You all have something to contribute. You have to me, and for me. So, in the immortal words of Al Green "Let's Stay Together"


Live, reporting to you from Los Angeles, this is P, from K-PAT FM, the Pattyopolis Network.

Open Letter to the Married and/or Parents

As some of you may or may not know. I'm unmarried and childless. I'm not a homely handmaiden, nor a jezebel looking to seek and destroy marriages. I'm just a regular, somewhat goodlooking (or so I think) chick with some cute shoes.

Most of my friends are married. Most of my friends are married with children. But I still love then to pieces.

Have I been proposed to before - YES - 2 Times. Have I been pregnant before - YES, but I didn't know it.

- I am not a male basher, I love men, prolly too much,
- I do not hate children, I'm like Trick Daddy, I luv the kids.
- I am not in a rush to do either, you know what happens when you do that.
- I am not some progressive free salt of the earth thinker that doesn't believe in marriage or children. I believe in both, if in fact that is the directive your life takes.

I just have not gotten married yet. Or had children, yet.

I would like to go through some of the spiel of things that I hear from time to time. Perhaps you've said them, perhaps you've heard them a time or two. Enjoy it, it's all in good fun.

"Girl, don't have kids". Why not? You had them? I thought you just finished telling me in another breath not too long ago that having kids was very rewarding. Are you telling that to make me feel better? Because I don't feel bad, but now I'm looking at you like you're crazy.

"Girl, if you were a mother, you would know how tired I was". That doesn't mean that I am not human. Does that mean that that I can't express emphathy or sympathy for you? I too, have been tired. Yes, as tired as you.

"Girl, don't get married". Why Not, you did?

"Girl, these layoffs are coming up. I can't afford to lose my job, I have kids!" Frankly, I don't think anyone that holds a job can afford to lose their job, single or not. For myself, I am not bulging at the pockets with $$$, either, so I cannot afford to lose my job, either. Furthermore, if in fact I do lose my job I have no one to turn to. I cannot get relief assistance for women and children, nothing like that.

"Girl, why don't you have any children yet?" Well, I don't know. Maybe I can't walk and chew gum at the same time. OR just maybe because I have a preference to put the cart before the horse and be married first. That is not to say that I turn my nose down at those who have not, (see paragraph 2 - it almost happened to me)

"Do you have a desire to get married?" I don't know isn't this a 'pick your poison' kind of question. About as much as you want to be single, I suppose.

"Girl, if you plan on getting married, you'd better hurry up?" And do what? Get married and end up being a divorcee? Or a single mother stressed out all the time? Or be married and miserable because I picked the wrong time/and or person?

"You don't understand. You don't have any children". I also do not know any victims of Hurricane Katrina, 09/11, the Space Shuttle Challenger, and the Vietnam War.

"Girl, I don't know if it's safe to leave you with my baby" Okay.

"My husband gets on my nerves!" And you prolly get on his, too because you don't shut your piehole.

"You become unselfish when you become a parent." I didn't know I was selfish.

"Have you ever watched children before?" Sure. That's my voice on the movie, saying "Have you checked the children?" (HEHE) Seriously, human children, or pets? Yes, I know how to take care of children. I have 12 nieces and nephews, all of which I have taken care of for long periods of time. I have been an aunt since I was ten. Two of which call me MaAuntie, instead of My Auntie, because I took care of them so well. I know how to hold them, change them, feed them, watch them, deliver medicine to them, clothe them, mix formula, warm bottles, mash up food, feed them, burp them, lay them, nuture them, etc. But in terms of watching them. No. I don't do that, I'm not a perv. Take care of them, YES. I can do that.

"It's different when you have children, though." It's also different if you are hearing imparied, or have bad credit. That doesn't mean that those who can hear can't read close captioning, and those who have bad credit can't buy a car. Which means that I still understand.

"You're always so busy. What do you have to do?" Nothing really, except sit around and watch Celebrity Fit Club, Pimp My Ride, and My Super Sweet 16. I guess I could do other things, too, such as pay all the bills, work, fix everything around the house, figure OUT how to pay everything and still save a little. Cook, clean, shop, study for school, work, run errands, wash cars, deal with my family (I do have one, you know). You know, kind of the same stuff you do.

In closing, generally the intent of it all is all in good fun. Don't get all excited or anything, I'm not chiding you. I know your intent is not to offend, and for me who hears these things all the time I'm not offended, I'm amused. I expect to be married and maybe children w/n the next two years or so. But if I don't don't get your panties all riled up in a bunch, because then they'll get all messed, up and you know a woman can never have enough panties.

Live from LA, this is P reporting to you from K-PAT FM, the Pattyopolis Network.

Breaking News: Supa wants to see the most recent shoes that I've purchased. Here they are. . .

The First Time. . .

Ladies and gentleman before we get started let's give a big warm round of applause to Janice, my co-worker. She is new on the blog scene and just recently set up shop. She is good peeps. Hey gurl!

I was listening to "Tonight is the Night", by Betty Wright. And I started thinking about mine. I wish it had went that smoothly, but yet in still, it was the typical "First Time" sit-chi-ashun (as JJ would say on "Good Times).

I was the tender age of ____ (numbers are irrelevant, dontchathink?) And I was hopelessly in love with Darren. Hey, you know Darren, don't you. Darren is the very guy that I was gawking at and did a straight pratfall in my life's most embarrassing moments post. So anyway, no Darren wasn't a phreak fawning over some ninth grade chick. He waited until later. (Sidebar: He actually was my first kiss as well, later on in high school). But anyway, he called over my friend Leslie's house, because she was talking (hehe remember that word 'talking) to his buddy Patrick. Darren was, at that point, a sophomore in college, and had not seen me in a few years. Darren knew my entire family. Reason being is that the city that I was raised in is like Mulberry/St. Olive, Cheers type of environment. Everybody knew everyone. So, him calling me was no big deal.

So Patrick and Leslie were going out that night, and he wanted to take me out as well. He called himself serenading me over the phone with a Ready for the World song (Let me Love you Down). Y'all, I was honey booming all over the place after he did that you could not tell me NOTHIN. So, they took us out to eat (like at Coco's or something), then we got back into his 5.0 Mustang and was listening to Candy by Cameo oh my goodness was I in seventh heaven or what! So, we finally drove up at the letom (HAHA, whatyouknowaboutdat). I don't know about you ladies, but I tell you what, pulling up into the letom back in the day (the few times I did hehe) was just highly embarrasing - I felt so exposed!

Now, meanwhile, Darren does not know I am a virgin. So, we are all hanging out in the room together playing quarters. What the hell quarters was I did not know. I was soon to find out, though. Quarters is a game where, you literally flip quarters into a cup, and if you miss, then you have to drink. Me being the non drinking, equilibrium challenged chick that I am, I kept missing the shot (no pun intended), so I was getting shots of Bacardi and Coke (in hindsight more Bacardi than Coke). So needless to say, I also found out that night what the word buzzed meant.

So, Patrick and Les left the room to do the dayum thang, and then me and Darren started fooling around. For me, it was more mechanical because I was definitely inexperienced in so many ways. Me being the naive chick I was at that time, I didn't really think anything was going to 'happen' happen. (nowadays these fass a$$ girls would have saw it coming, but I didn't). He was never pushy, he was very kind, and very relaxed about the whole situation. But oh, my goodness, when the rubber hit the road (pun intended), I felt like I was going to pass out.

Finally, it happened. He popped the cherry. (Don't ack like y'all didn't used to say that!) But I felt like he was the Space Shuttle Challenger and I was the cloud being penetrated. No matter how slow he went (and he did) and how gentle he was (and he was) that sheeat hurt like a mofo. Aahh! Just thinking about it is making me cringe. I don't know if at that point if he knew, or thought that I had a Supa P that was hella tight. So finally, the copulation occurred, and it wasn't bad, nor was it good, it just happened. And no, I was not moving, I didn't know what to do. (Memo to fass a$$ girls, you shouldn't know what to do, and I didn't).

So afterwards, I was cuddled in his arms (I guess that's what you could call it), and if it were left up to me, we would have gotten married that day. So that's when I confessed that it was my first time. I felt his muscles tense, then. I think he may have suspected that because I am telling you it was a major event trying to tap it - me telling him was no doubt was a confirming. Maybe he was tense because he had never 'broken in' (hehe) a virgin, or he thought I was going to be a bug-a-boo, I dunno. BUT I do know that he was still very polite, and kind to me. And when all was said and done, he followed Patrick back to Leslie's house and dropped me off there, kissed me and called me from time to time (he didn't live out here, he was on campus in Utah - which was MAAAD weird at that time, a brotha in Utah?). We hooked up a few times after he got back. We just kind of moved on from each other. Darren was always polite, and never dissed me. For that, I am grateful.

Grateful that he unleased the dragon. . . :)

Okay, readership. Your turn.

Good, Bad, Disastrous?

Somewhere in the middle?

Random Acts of Kindness

In this oft-corrupt world, I think about how selfish and self absorbed people can be. Violent, even. But many times you can believe that there are Angels that step in and intercede for us, helping and guiding us.

I have been helped on at least three occasions by Angels right here on earth. Random acts of kindness, (which, if you really think about it, are not so random), where, by grace, I was assisted and helped, and as a result, significantly altered the course of my day, and or immediate future. But before I do, I just want to let the blog community know that this was a LONG TIME AGO, I don't want y'all to think I have this much drama going on now. 1994-1995 was a very trying time for me. With that said, three angels that immediately come to mind (two in one day!), are:

Angel One

During my 'right after college', no money, getting laid off here and there life (10 years or so ago), I had headed to Lynwood, California, to pick up some information from a friend. Getting off the freeway, my car started sputtering. I had been having some car problems lately, but considering the fact that both myself and my mother had been laid off, and then had just had our jobs reinstated, money was VERY tight. So, I coasted as far as I could, turned off a side street, and landed in front of a house. This was pre-cell phone era, so I had to find a phone booth to walk to, to call someone to help out. Normally, I keep a AAA club card at the ready, but, due to $$$ issues, it had lapsed. I had NO IDEA how I was going to get this car back home. It was the summertime, and outside it was hotter than a hooker in church. Before I made the trek to the phone booth, I knocked on the door of the house that it had coasted under, to tell the tenant what had happened, and to let her know I will have the car picked up as soon as possible. She asked me to come in, gave me a glass of lemonade, and not only let me use her phone, but insisted I use her AAA card to get the car home. I tried to pay her (with what little I had), but she refused. While looking around her house, I noticed the pictures of her children. Her son (and my first child crush) was my fourth grade baseball coach! How cool was that! I got her address and sent her a thank you card in the mail. What are the odds of me coasting right in front of her house, on that street, and the car petering out right there. There were no odds, because now, I know, that my God and the Angels, guided that car, not me. Thank you, Mrs. Dorsey.

Angel Two

After I (finally) got the car home, I was talking on the phone with a girlfriend of mines, I had helped her out a time or two when she was going through a rough time. Nothing major, forty bucks here and there. She never asked, I just did it because I saw a need and because I loved her so. I was expressing to her how frustrating is was with all the drama going on with my car. At that time, we had been friends for about seven years and talked daily. She had had a rough life but things were turning around for her. She started asking some pointed questions, such as "What's wrong with the car?" (I don't know, L), "Weren't you planning on getting another one?" (Yes, but I don't have enough down). I'm not really one to put my personal drama out in the streets, and was kind of uncomfortable answering all her questions, but I knew she meant well and was concerned. After talking to me for awhile, she told me she would call me back later. She called back about 1/2 and hour later and told me that there was $1000.00 waiting for me at Western Union, and to do what I wanted with it. I think this is worth repeating: She told me that there was $1000.00 waiting for me at Western Union and to do what I had wanted with it. No questions asked. I was able to put down on another car, trade in that one, and had a few $$ to boot. Her only request was that I never bring it up again, and it was because she loved me. Okay, I'm getting emotional thinking about it now, so on to other news.

Angel Three

I (near around that time) like to pride myself on my hair, nails, feet, etc. But during that time, I had to let a lot go. Hair was pulled back, nails were ragged (which I took off, yes I wear acrylic French manicure, so NOW!). When I finally did go back, I had to decide: Nails, or feet? Considering I always wore sandals, I didn't want to look like I had been kicking rocks and dirt, so I decided on the feet. When I went, the owner hugged me and told me she had missed me coming in (it had been about six weeks). She asked was I getting the whole treatment, and I said "Nah, just the feet". She looked at me but didn't say anything. While the pedicurist was hooking me up, the owner was looking at me. I tried to turn from her so she wouldn't see my hands. Finally, after she got down with her client, she came over to me and lifted my hands. She went back to her table, got her equipment, and started working on my hands, gave me brand new set, French manicure, AND a charm. (Yes, I know charms are played, but this was backhandedly). I did come back and pay her some $$$ about a month later, when I got back on track, it was the least I could do.

I can only pray to the Lord that I am in a position like that one day in life, where I am poised to help someone, no questions asked. And for those of you in readership that have done this a time of two, trust when I say, you will not be forgotten.

Have you done random acts of kindness? Have you been the recipient of them? Would love to hear your stories.

Live, from LA, this is P reporting to you from KPAT-FM, the Pattyopolis Network.

A Different Spin on Cupid. . .

This post, was in part, inspired by an email I received from a friend of mines yesterday while checking my emails. . . It reads:

Hi my friend,
How are you doing? I thought I would email you and wish you a Happy Valentines Day. You know Valentines Day is not just for lovers. Its also for friends. So how are you doing? As for myself. School and work are keeping me out of trouble. I do have to brush up on my writing as far as term papers go. I really do have to do better on my skills. As for Valentines goes. I do not have a Valentines this year. And I pray that one day GOD will bring my way that special someone. Well write me back when you can.

I got to thinking: This is a woman who has a desire to meet a mate and get married. I know she will find that special someone, but when, and where? She will be busy on Valentines Day because she has to work and go to school, but what will she be thinking about?

It also triggered so many thoughts in me, that include:

This year's Valentines Day marks the 10th (whew!) anniversary of my friend's dad's death. He was only 48 years old when he passed and when I tell you it seems like yesterday it literally only seems like yesterday that he was here with us. He was the neighborhood father that we all loved. He loved us when we were fatherless, when we were needy, and everything in between. He went into the hospital for routine shoulder surgery of February 3rd, and subsequently complications emerged (we later found out he was overmedicated during surgery - has since been taken care of through the courts.). When his daughter (my friend, his only child, whom he raised alone) went to pick him up, his speech was slurred and he was slightly drooling). He was put on life support on February 5th, and he never left the hospital. To this day, Valentines day is an extremely difficult day for her. She is married with one child now, but I don't think Valentines day brings on the same significance for her as it does to others, at least not in the context that V-Day represents. I hope, maybe one day, she will realize that this international day of love can be a way for her to realize the love that she had for him can be symbolized - and celebrated, on this day.

I think about when I fell in love at first sight on February 12, 1997, as I was picking up a card for my friend, telling her that I would remember her on the first anniversary of her father's death (same one from above). He was there, and we talked. We talked the next two nights for five hours straight, each night. . . He came over on a Saturday, and brought me one yellow rose. (Other roses followed, but considering we had known each other for only two days, one was appropriate). He also brought me a card, thanking me for coming along at the right time. It was an incredible experience, and I love him for that to this day. Sidebar: He has since turned out to be a bigger whore than anyone on the Moonlight Bunny Ranch ever could be, has more kids than the law allows, rolls a fat bomb ass Lincoln Navigator (with a questionable income to boot), and can't settle down. (MINOR details as to why we are not together to this day) but 'tinnyway, He was pimp with his, and was always nice to me, hell at that time I was feeling the SOS band - Just be Good To Me. Okay, that was another life so on to other news. . .

I think about my first love, "J", and what he must go through on Valentines Day. This is by far, one of the most physically gorgeous men I have ever known. He is a single father who has custody of his two daughters. Their mother, who was never really a large factor in their lives, was killed by her husband in 1997, I believe. He had custody of them prior to that, but that's not the point. One day, late in August of 2000, Jemal was playing baseball. He was on first base, and attempted to steal second base. Trying to slide head first into second base, the second base player blocked the base. Jemal crashed headfirst into his knee, and was knocked unconscious. When he woke up, Jemal was a quadriplegic. He has since regained some movement in his arms, but not very much in his hands. At that time, he was in a standing relationship with a woman for approximately one year, but I think she could not hang after awhile and left. I remember what it was like for him the first year. I remember him telling me he couldn't look at his old pictures; that he was going to 'beat this', that his mind said 'get up' but he just could not. I also remember him kissing me a few times in the rehabilitation center he was in for a year. I let him. How could I not? (Plus, he is phoine!). But anyway. . .Who is his Valentine, I wonder. . .

I think about the people that have loved, and lost. Perhaps they are in the midst of a breakup. Perhaps they are holding on, which is very hard to do when love is gone. . .(what y'all know about THAT song). Perhaps, this is the beginning of the end. Maybe there are those that have never known love, maybe they are mateless, childless, Godless, or any combination thereof. Perhaps they don't understand that Valentines Day is not just couples. It is an expression of emotion, devotion, and love, for whatever it is that you do love, including pets.

By the way, the literal day of Valentines Day, I personally do not like. I think restaurants OVERBOOK, I think flower shops OVERPROMISE and UNDERDELIVER, and I think that it's just a comeuppance day for many who feel pressure to deal with it. For the men, it's a never ending "Deer in the Headlights" saga, trying to figure out what will please the missus. For the woman, the subconscious measurement of what you got to another. And the office flower shop biz, that's a painful sight to witness!! WHO GOT THE BIGGEST BOUQUET - AND THE SMALLEST?

The significance of Valentines Day, however, DOES matter - it stands for love, and our commitment to it, the everlasting knowledge of experiences either eros, erotic love, phileo brotherly love, or agape, unconditional love. I full on believe that it should be acknowledged, and celebrated as such, and with that said, HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, readership! Have a wonderful day!

How do you feel about Valentines Day? What have been some of your experiences? And what are your plans? Any bad mishaps you want to share? Any 'Best of' Valentines Day? Anything goes!

Life's Embarassing Moments

Okay, okay, we've all had them. We've seen people have them, and the same thing happens to all of us:

We get flushed
Can't concentrate,
Sight goes blurry just a little,
Can't really function on a normal level until you get your bearings about yourself.

I for one, have had numerous embarassing moments. So have my friends. I'm not going to bust them out on here, but I do have one that I will, cuz she don't read blogs, so. . .

She was 20 years old, and her family was having a gathering at her house. She decided, on her own, to go in her mother's bathroom, and take a bath. But not really take a bath, ifyouladiesknowwhatImean. The whole under the faucet running thing is a long standing way to partcipate in your own getting high on your own supply. Anyway, her mother's bathroom door does not lock, and well, y'all know where I'm going with this. . . Her cousin's wife came in and saw her stark naked in the tub, with her favorite part under the faucet going at it, to which her brother's wife promptly closed the door behind her. I asked what she did, and she said nothing, I waited a few minutes and finished up the job, she said why not I was already busted. She said her cousin's wife never said a thing about it. . .

As for me, I have had many embarassing moments. Like to hear it, hear it goes:

1. I was busted for cheating in my seventh grade English class. We were having a spelling test (Those words were HARD - she was French, so she would always have words like rendezvous, tete a tete, hors d'orderves - sheeat like that). I thought I was cute and had the words written in pen under my skirt. She came right over to me, in front of everybody, and told me to stand up and lift up my skirt. I was appalled. Initially everybody thought that she was being vulgar, but she just said, no, just a little bit. So of course, I did, and the words were written on my legs, and she said, "class, this is a lesson in what NOT to do if you want to pass this class".

2. I was in the tenth grade and I was walking down the steps in my Payless penny loafers coming out of my algebra one class. I saw my first love, my first major crush, the 12th grade quarterback, the man, Mr. Darren Hughes, passing by with his jersey on. I thought I was so cute with my shiny red lipstick I had on (I think it was a no. 7 that I got from the swap meet), and my little blue mascara and the blush that looked absolutely ridiculous. Meanwhile, I was so busy gazing at him, I broke Payless slippery - slope shoes #1 rule. . .Pay attention while walking at all times, because you might find yourself face down, which is exactly what happened as I barrelled down the stairs, trying to show off my blue black cellophane and feathered hair. I slipped and tumbled down three steps, and my pee-chee, and other folders and book items splayed all across the concrete. Nobody laughed more than they stared, including him. It was a spectacular pratfall, if I can say so myself. . .

3. I went to my prom with some friends, (I did not have a date, that's a long story), but I didn't want one. And for those of you who say, "Yeah, beeach, you prolly didn't have anybuddy to ax you", nope, not the case, can't you tell I'm a foxy mama by my legs? HAHA! But tinnyway, she and the other gals and dudes ended up leaving me at the prom (Lying beeach - later on she swears she couldn't find me, how are you going to miss a then 5'11" foot girl in all black with some satin pumps on to boot!), and by the time I realized she was gone, all my other homegirls were gone too, I had to call my mama to come pick me up from the LA Marriott Hotel at midnight (this is pre-cell phone era, y'all), so I'm coming back and forth out the lobby, cold with this one shouldered gown, looking for this narc-inspired chevy cavalier looking vehicle to drive up, complete with a black chick with pink sponge rollers in her hair, covered by a scarf.

4. I was at work one day, talking to this dude on a break. I was facing him and we were both sitting down. I worked at K-Mart Portrait Studio and I was just chewing the fat, and he said, "Looks like you had an accident down there" and lo and behold, Aunt Flo was permeating through my white bubble gum pants. Had to go home and change.

5. I sent a nasty jokey-joke to a bunch of friends while I was working (not here), and accidentally sent it to one of the principals of the company, who forwarded it to my supervisor. I was so busted. And it was nasty. And these folks were devout Christians. That has nothing to do with it, I wasn't supposed to be sending that kind of stuff in any work environment anyway, but that just made it worse to me, a fellow Christian. But hell, email had just became what was hot on the streets and we were all excited and stuff.

6. I didn't like the way my house looked when I was a teenager, (we were in tha hood and were having a rough time of it, and I told my friend's cousin to drop me off at another house, and when they dropped me off I walked around the corner to my house, and they had went back to ask me something and the lady told them that I didn't live there but I lived around the corner, and they came banging on the door looking for an explanation. They were not mad; but they were upset that I thought they would judge me.

**EDIT** ** EDIT** EDIT**

7: Reading Tam's comments triggered two more embarassing moments. I was working at my company for about six months. (I have since been here for five years). My cubicle was in a main walkway. I was looking for something in my purse and was fishing through it and was taking out stuff. I thought I had put everything back. I had a "U" shaped cubicle, and everybody who passed by, could see at least the back of the desk, if not 2/3rds of it. Anyway, I saw folks passing by me and then lookiing at me, but whatever, I thought it was because I was hot. Anyway, later when I turned to retrieve something from the back of the desk, I find, standing at full attention, was this:

Yes, ladies and gentleman, my bottle of FDS deodorant spray. I couldn't do anything but put it back in my purse. Later on, my coworker (who had been working at the company for less time than I had), said she, too, had saw, it but she thought I was one of those bra-burning, I am woman, hear my roar, you betta not say something kind of chicks, so she was like "Okay, least I know where to go when I get that 'not so fresh' feelin.

8. Years ago, my mom and I were on the way to church. (We ride together). I have this botanical oil called Design Essentials Silk Essentials - It's this wonderful silk product that I put on my hair. Well, my mother uses it too. She saw what she thought was the bottle and was like "Ooh, I could use some of this, and she promptly upturned the bottle, put a few drops in her hand, and was about to put it on her hair, I screeched "NOOOO!" and she was like "Whaaa?" And I told her, er, that's baby oil" She was like, "Ooh, chile, I'm glad you caught it." To which I said, silently, Yes, mom, I'm glad I prevented you from putting K-Y Jelly drops in your hair. The label had come off and it just looked like a plain, clear bottle.

Who left dat in my car?

Okay, I have many many more, but I'll leave the rest to you.

What are some, or one of your embarassing moments? Will (or CAN you) share with us?