Blogging on the fly... before I leave today....I feel like this blog is becoming days of my life for some reason. I make this sort and sweet.
I bought a car, the same day
got fired from my job.
How did I get fired you ask? Well, no reason. Someone else over me got fired and her assistant needs her job back, so whose lower than a temp? No one. Well, maybe Paris Hilton.
Am I upset? Truthfully, Hasn't hit me yet, between my tonisilitis/strep throat and living in the crazy house, this is almost laughable. You know what's funny. I came to work all week pretty much on my deathbed because I was so paranoid about getting fired, and I get fired anyway. Funny, how the world works.
Loverboy's not going to like this, so I'm going to propose staying in orange county with my cousin for a little while, because this was the only shot I had so far out semi-stable employment. Now that's this is out the window now, hell. No plan B's.
Did I like my job? Begrugingly, I admit I was starting to. I was around the thing that I loved most in the world. Even though I could not actively participate, I got to hear about it all day and be around it all day. I learned a lot just from these 3 weeks.
I feel like I'm destined for something at this point. But it cannot be unemployment.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Ode to Sleep Deprivation
As you can tell by the title, this is basically where my state of mind is at the moment. I have the flu, the second time I've been sick in 2 weeks. I mean I am really sick. It was cold two weeks ago, now flu.
I don't know if any of you had the lovely pleasure of moving to big city, but whenever you move, you cannot move without these three things. First month's rent, last month's rent, and security deposit. Let's figure that I find an apartment here for $750 a month, (fantastic) I cannot move in unless I plunk down 1800. For a 6-month lease! This has put a huge, huge damper in my plans. I know you all may be a little shocked as to why this is suprising, but keep in mind the deposit on my last apartment was $75, and I could just move right on in with the first months rent.
My living situation right now sucks. As I stated before, I am currently living with two guys. One is an insomniac, and one is a total weedhead. Loverboy works night hours, and not only does he not go to sleep, but he is determined to not make you go to sleep with him, (i.e. screaming to someone at the top of his lungs on his cell phone, slamming doors, turning on the bright ass light in your face if he needs to ask you something, sleeps with the TV on, lord I could go on). Weedhead is not home very much but when he is, he is high all the time. And when I say all the time, I mean all the time. Nothing wrong with chiefing, I have no problem with that. But, dude, I have lived there for 6 weeks now, and I have never seen homeboy sober. Plus, he creeps me out.
The house always smells like weed. I have to wait for a free bed a lot of the time so I can sleep, and when I get one I wake up about 50 times a night. Add in a nice little flu, you got yourself one little happy healthy situation.
Blah, Blah, Blah, I know. I could be sleeping in my car. Don't even try it. At least if I'm sleeping in my car, I'll be guaranteed a place to sleep every night and be granted if Loverboy doesn't know where I am, it will at least be quiet.
Loverboy goes out of town next week, so it'll just be me and weedhead. This will be interesting. I'll keep you posted.
I don't know if any of you had the lovely pleasure of moving to big city, but whenever you move, you cannot move without these three things. First month's rent, last month's rent, and security deposit. Let's figure that I find an apartment here for $750 a month, (fantastic) I cannot move in unless I plunk down 1800. For a 6-month lease! This has put a huge, huge damper in my plans. I know you all may be a little shocked as to why this is suprising, but keep in mind the deposit on my last apartment was $75, and I could just move right on in with the first months rent.
My living situation right now sucks. As I stated before, I am currently living with two guys. One is an insomniac, and one is a total weedhead. Loverboy works night hours, and not only does he not go to sleep, but he is determined to not make you go to sleep with him, (i.e. screaming to someone at the top of his lungs on his cell phone, slamming doors, turning on the bright ass light in your face if he needs to ask you something, sleeps with the TV on, lord I could go on). Weedhead is not home very much but when he is, he is high all the time. And when I say all the time, I mean all the time. Nothing wrong with chiefing, I have no problem with that. But, dude, I have lived there for 6 weeks now, and I have never seen homeboy sober. Plus, he creeps me out.
The house always smells like weed. I have to wait for a free bed a lot of the time so I can sleep, and when I get one I wake up about 50 times a night. Add in a nice little flu, you got yourself one little happy healthy situation.
Blah, Blah, Blah, I know. I could be sleeping in my car. Don't even try it. At least if I'm sleeping in my car, I'll be guaranteed a place to sleep every night and be granted if Loverboy doesn't know where I am, it will at least be quiet.
Loverboy goes out of town next week, so it'll just be me and weedhead. This will be interesting. I'll keep you posted.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
God I Know
March 20. God I know. So much to talk about so little time. I was actually going to end this blog until I read the comment on my last one, so thank you Erica and dammit I'm at it again.
Here's very, very brief synopsis.
*Staying with Loverboy. It sucks. He's a hoe. He is letting me stay in his house but he's still a hoe. Came to the realization that I was part of his stable of hoes. Panic attacks. Sleepless nights.
Harder than I thought it was going to be. Mood swings like a pregnant bitch.
*I am not going home, at least not now. Currently a receptionist at a talent agency. Its temp, but its money. Moms and Pops been suprisingly supportive about the whole thing. I guess they knew it was coming.
*I understand completely why people stay at their jobs for 25-30 years. Quitting your job to follow your dream is ridicioulsly hard. People live in their cars to do this, and I'm dangerously close. I'm not saying quit, but make sure its something you
really want to do first.
*Thank the lord Jesus Christ in heaven for therapists. Because without mine, I would have probably went home and hid under my bed for a month. If your thinking about it, don't think, go. Because if you get a good one, it could save your life.
Here's very, very brief synopsis.
*Staying with Loverboy. It sucks. He's a hoe. He is letting me stay in his house but he's still a hoe. Came to the realization that I was part of his stable of hoes. Panic attacks. Sleepless nights.
Harder than I thought it was going to be. Mood swings like a pregnant bitch.
*I am not going home, at least not now. Currently a receptionist at a talent agency. Its temp, but its money. Moms and Pops been suprisingly supportive about the whole thing. I guess they knew it was coming.
*I understand completely why people stay at their jobs for 25-30 years. Quitting your job to follow your dream is ridicioulsly hard. People live in their cars to do this, and I'm dangerously close. I'm not saying quit, but make sure its something you
really want to do first.
*Thank the lord Jesus Christ in heaven for therapists. Because without mine, I would have probably went home and hid under my bed for a month. If your thinking about it, don't think, go. Because if you get a good one, it could save your life.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
I'm finally here
Damn, January 31 is the last I posted? A mess....Yes, I'm here. For obvious reasons, my posts will be shorter and less frequent, but I will try to keep it up. Yes I am unemployed, sleeping on people's couches. Yes, I feel like a loser. Loser, enough to go back home? No, at least not yet anyway.
I'm still in love with Loverboy. I am such a glutton for punishment, especially with guys. I guess it will always be the thing with me. Currenlty, since there are no other living possiblities, we're sharing a room. It sucks. For someone, who's lived alone since sophmore year of college, it really sucks. I wonder what its like to be completely obvilious to someone who is so desperately in love with you. So desperately in love, you watch them sleep. (Yes, I just admitted that out loud).I would like to have that feeling of complete obliviousness.
It sucks not working, for someone who's worked 12+ hours a day for the last 3 years, I feel lost. I know I'm out here to be an actress and there's a lot of rejection and free time involved, I'm the type of person who thinks too much when they're not doing anything.
I need to get a boyfriend, for practical purposes only. People are starting to think something's wrong. I found out recently my family thinks I'm a homewrecking slut. My cousin's boyfriend thinks I'm a lesbian. Loverboy treats me like shit, because he knows he the only heterosexual male in my life at this moment. Its not necessarily that they're thoughts matter to me, but I just get tired of fighting to be me all the time.
That's all for now. More to come.
I'm still in love with Loverboy. I am such a glutton for punishment, especially with guys. I guess it will always be the thing with me. Currenlty, since there are no other living possiblities, we're sharing a room. It sucks. For someone, who's lived alone since sophmore year of college, it really sucks. I wonder what its like to be completely obvilious to someone who is so desperately in love with you. So desperately in love, you watch them sleep. (Yes, I just admitted that out loud).I would like to have that feeling of complete obliviousness.
It sucks not working, for someone who's worked 12+ hours a day for the last 3 years, I feel lost. I know I'm out here to be an actress and there's a lot of rejection and free time involved, I'm the type of person who thinks too much when they're not doing anything.
I need to get a boyfriend, for practical purposes only. People are starting to think something's wrong. I found out recently my family thinks I'm a homewrecking slut. My cousin's boyfriend thinks I'm a lesbian. Loverboy treats me like shit, because he knows he the only heterosexual male in my life at this moment. Its not necessarily that they're thoughts matter to me, but I just get tired of fighting to be me all the time.
That's all for now. More to come.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Project Cali...in effect mode
Paris Hilton is not human. She scares me. She has absolutely no soul. And I absolutely refuse to watch that video. She's a sociopath. Still, people keep giving her press, and she's not going to suffer any consequence whatsoever. I just had to say that out loud.
Project California goes into effect in 9 days and 20 hours. I'm shuffling back and forth between delusional calm and extreme mania. It's still not real. Me about a year ago would only be going for a week on spring break for vacation, probably fill out some job applications for convenience, have them call me the day I go back, only to proceed to come back here to bitch about how I need to get out of here. But me proactively taking steps to change my life? Bitch, please. I got an easy job with good insurance, why would I leave it? Plus its time for Addam and I start planning our birthday party. I would worry about it after that.
As of now, I'll be homeless for a little while. My cousin made an generous offer to let me stay with her the whole time, with her boyfriend and her kids. Umm, no. Kids aren't the problem, they're great. Boyfriend is sketch. I would describe him as the kind of ghetto that he has to suppress for everyday life, so he won't be fighting everyone in his path. Plus, I know they're cheating/cheated on each other. My gut feeling is that I don't trust him. I don't think he'll hit on me or anything, okay, we'll maybe...but the outcome will not be good. For now, I'll just be sleeping in my rental car.
Project California goes into effect in 9 days and 20 hours. I'm shuffling back and forth between delusional calm and extreme mania. It's still not real. Me about a year ago would only be going for a week on spring break for vacation, probably fill out some job applications for convenience, have them call me the day I go back, only to proceed to come back here to bitch about how I need to get out of here. But me proactively taking steps to change my life? Bitch, please. I got an easy job with good insurance, why would I leave it? Plus its time for Addam and I start planning our birthday party. I would worry about it after that.
As of now, I'll be homeless for a little while. My cousin made an generous offer to let me stay with her the whole time, with her boyfriend and her kids. Umm, no. Kids aren't the problem, they're great. Boyfriend is sketch. I would describe him as the kind of ghetto that he has to suppress for everyday life, so he won't be fighting everyone in his path. Plus, I know they're cheating/cheated on each other. My gut feeling is that I don't trust him. I don't think he'll hit on me or anything, okay, we'll maybe...but the outcome will not be good. For now, I'll just be sleeping in my rental car.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
The Interview
So my pilgrimage to LA takes place in about 2 weeks and I am terrified. I am definitely preparing myself for the worst. Don't get me wrong, I am very happy that I am blessed to go and try this, but at the same time I am scared shitless that it won't work out and I am back in hell again, plotting once again my neverending escape from Alcatraz.
The following is a interview conducted to me by me pretty much illustrating how I feel about life right now:
So I understand you want to be actress, and I know you have a reputation for hating celebrities, let's first start by asking who you hate in Hollywood right now.
Oh, cool I have a new list. The top at that list right now is Angelina Jolie. Everybody thinks she's the Virgin Mary. I think she thinks she's the virgin mary, all because she adopted some ethnic kids and she's pretty. That's what its all about.... her bring pretty. So therefore she can do nothing wrong. Instead of flying by plane to all of these poor countries, she just floats with her veil as a cape.
Drew Barrymore, hate her. She strikes me as the fakest bitch on the planet. If she's that nice, why is she best friends with Cameron Diaz, who is literally the fakest bitch on the planet.
Beyonce, yuck..I can go on, but I'll leave it alone, because I'll get bored. Tyra Banks is an idiot pretending to be smart. Paris Hilton, that one goes without saying.
Paris scares me, she has no soul.
What is your biggest fear about your trip?
Looking everyone in the eye once again and telling them I'm coming back. I've been through this so many times even I think I'm full or shit at this point. Now I feel like the reason I stayed here so long is because I'm so scared of change I became comfortable in my own misery. Took pride in bitching and complaining and not doing anything about it. I became my mother.
How does your family feel about this?
They don't give a shit. It would be different if I got this six figure job and I'm moving to be near it, they would be all up my ass, but honestly they could care less.
Does that bother you?
Hell no. I prefer it that way actually.
In the event you became a successful actress, would you become...different?
You mean a bitch? (laughs). Only to these specific people. My mom and her side of the family because they would transition into money grubbing vultures, and to them I would animorph into "the walking check", to hair and makeup people, because it took 28 years to get my shit together and you're not going to fuck it up in one oil-laden makeup brushed swoop, and to Paris Hilton and others like her, because she is fucking up the youth of our country.
What going to happen with you and "Loverboy"?
You know what, I really haven't thought that much about it, suprisingly. I guess I'm so hell bent on planning and doing my own thing, that I haven't thought that much about how he fits into the picture, except as a friend, of course. Imagine that.
One final question, you were pretty depressed for a while about entering the business because of the whole emphasis on looks, is your perspective still the same?
No, its not. If I built on career on trying to be the hot girl, I'd be Jessica Alba. Believe me,I do not want to be Jessica Alba. Bitch has no charisma. Truth is, if I get cast as the quirky best friend, then I get cast as the quirky best friend. If I'm the "fat" girl, I'm the fat girl. All the actresses who are good, who I love did not spend their time trying to be hot girl, they just were cast period. And I wouldn't spend all my time trying to diet and workout, and more time trying to be good enough to get cast.
The following is a interview conducted to me by me pretty much illustrating how I feel about life right now:
So I understand you want to be actress, and I know you have a reputation for hating celebrities, let's first start by asking who you hate in Hollywood right now.
Oh, cool I have a new list. The top at that list right now is Angelina Jolie. Everybody thinks she's the Virgin Mary. I think she thinks she's the virgin mary, all because she adopted some ethnic kids and she's pretty. That's what its all about.... her bring pretty. So therefore she can do nothing wrong. Instead of flying by plane to all of these poor countries, she just floats with her veil as a cape.
Drew Barrymore, hate her. She strikes me as the fakest bitch on the planet. If she's that nice, why is she best friends with Cameron Diaz, who is literally the fakest bitch on the planet.
Beyonce, yuck..I can go on, but I'll leave it alone, because I'll get bored. Tyra Banks is an idiot pretending to be smart. Paris Hilton, that one goes without saying.
Paris scares me, she has no soul.
What is your biggest fear about your trip?
Looking everyone in the eye once again and telling them I'm coming back. I've been through this so many times even I think I'm full or shit at this point. Now I feel like the reason I stayed here so long is because I'm so scared of change I became comfortable in my own misery. Took pride in bitching and complaining and not doing anything about it. I became my mother.
How does your family feel about this?
They don't give a shit. It would be different if I got this six figure job and I'm moving to be near it, they would be all up my ass, but honestly they could care less.
Does that bother you?
Hell no. I prefer it that way actually.
In the event you became a successful actress, would you become...different?
You mean a bitch? (laughs). Only to these specific people. My mom and her side of the family because they would transition into money grubbing vultures, and to them I would animorph into "the walking check", to hair and makeup people, because it took 28 years to get my shit together and you're not going to fuck it up in one oil-laden makeup brushed swoop, and to Paris Hilton and others like her, because she is fucking up the youth of our country.
What going to happen with you and "Loverboy"?
You know what, I really haven't thought that much about it, suprisingly. I guess I'm so hell bent on planning and doing my own thing, that I haven't thought that much about how he fits into the picture, except as a friend, of course. Imagine that.
One final question, you were pretty depressed for a while about entering the business because of the whole emphasis on looks, is your perspective still the same?
No, its not. If I built on career on trying to be the hot girl, I'd be Jessica Alba. Believe me,I do not want to be Jessica Alba. Bitch has no charisma. Truth is, if I get cast as the quirky best friend, then I get cast as the quirky best friend. If I'm the "fat" girl, I'm the fat girl. All the actresses who are good, who I love did not spend their time trying to be hot girl, they just were cast period. And I wouldn't spend all my time trying to diet and workout, and more time trying to be good enough to get cast.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Random Tidbits .... Once Again
1. Beyonce, full blown hatred. Not even jealous anymore, she just urks the shit out me now.
2. 3 weeks until project California. I'm terrified, of coming back that is. No one has contacted me about a job as of yet, and its really freaking me out at this point.
3. I realized now that I have stayed at this hellhole for so long, because I forgot how much I hate looking for a job. I absolutely hate it, all the work, all the applications, all the interviews...after all that, you find out they had someone in mind for the job anyway and all your efforts were in vain.
4. Maybe its because I've been in this shithole for so long, but I'm really fed up with black men at the moment. I know there are good ones out there, but confident, strong, educated, non wannabe thuggish, open minded black men, with no kids are very few and far between. I'm into Jewish men now. I'm sure its just a phase.
5. Speaking of thugs, regular guys (of any race) never approach me. Just the "thugs". Not my exterior either, I dress like a preppie most of the time. My best friend and I were talking about the only kinds of black women who are widely regarded as okay to think of as beautiful either look like either Halle Berry or Iman. White girl or extremely exotic, and always skinny. No in between. Most black women are my complexion, with my build, and my big ass. So the only ones who can decipher the difference, and unfortunately appreciate us is the "thugs", screaming obscenities at us indoors from outside....but I digress...
2. 3 weeks until project California. I'm terrified, of coming back that is. No one has contacted me about a job as of yet, and its really freaking me out at this point.
3. I realized now that I have stayed at this hellhole for so long, because I forgot how much I hate looking for a job. I absolutely hate it, all the work, all the applications, all the interviews...after all that, you find out they had someone in mind for the job anyway and all your efforts were in vain.
4. Maybe its because I've been in this shithole for so long, but I'm really fed up with black men at the moment. I know there are good ones out there, but confident, strong, educated, non wannabe thuggish, open minded black men, with no kids are very few and far between. I'm into Jewish men now. I'm sure its just a phase.
5. Speaking of thugs, regular guys (of any race) never approach me. Just the "thugs". Not my exterior either, I dress like a preppie most of the time. My best friend and I were talking about the only kinds of black women who are widely regarded as okay to think of as beautiful either look like either Halle Berry or Iman. White girl or extremely exotic, and always skinny. No in between. Most black women are my complexion, with my build, and my big ass. So the only ones who can decipher the difference, and unfortunately appreciate us is the "thugs", screaming obscenities at us indoors from outside....but I digress...
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
More to come...
Beyonce looked like a straight drag queen at the Golden globes last night...
That's all for now.
That's all for now.
Monday, January 08, 2007
Thank Yous for 2006
I know I'm late with this, but I've been sick and I'm sick now, so screw it.
Go Gators!! Had to get that out first.
So I'm laying in the bed with my insomnia, as I do every night dwelling over the events I had this last year. So I have to say, I had a damn good year.
I made myself over completely inside and out, and I have these lovely people to thank.
1. God
I was mad at God for a little while, not gonna lie. Wondering why he stuck me with the mediocre life that I lived, wondering why after years of begging every single night for years, why I was still in this hellhole, and even though I was trying to claw my way out, how come I was still not in LA? After much professional help and less self-hatred it finally hit me. I wasn't ready. If I had left any earlier than I did right now, I would have been on the next plane home. I didn't like myself very much and it showed. Out there, can't do that. In the end, all you have is you and Him. Sorry it took me so long God, and thank you.
2. My beautician
I could write about this woman forever, but I'll make it quick. I don't know if I have ever bitched about this before, but one of my biggest lifelong dreams is to have long hair...No, seriously. My mother has continously told to me throughout the years as well as my middle sister, "I keep trying to tell your hair don't grow long. You don't have curly hair like Dean (my oldest sister). Only people with good hair have long hair" Beautician after bad beautician, perm after bad perm, short hair. Certain point, breaks off, shorter hair.
So this woman takes one look at my hair, and says, "You need to leave those perms alone. They are tearing your head up." What? The perm is tearing my head up? Stress is not taking my hair out?
"No. Just trust me and do what I tell you." That was march. Here is January and my hair has gone from the top of my ears to the top of my back. Thanks, Tish.
3.Greg Berenhdt
Writer of "He's not that into You." and "Its called a breakup because its broken". I am the queen of shitty relationships, as well as dumb as a brick when it comes to men. The book itself is pretty common sense, mostly, but it told me everything I needed to hear. Haven't looked back since.
4. My mom
Me and Moms still have our differences, but it took me living with her again to really get it and handle her. She may have her issues, and the issues are deep, trust me, but I know she will always be there for me.
5. My therapist
I don't need to talk about her, because I talk about her enough on this blog. Therapy works people. I am a believer.
Last, but not least
5.Loverboy
I finally got some emotional distance, and I now treat him for what he is.. a friend. Don't get me wrong, I still love the boy, I'm not delusional, but he is not good for me. He has been been a good friend, but he is not what I want in a boyfriend at all. And I am no longer to willing to take scraps.
I want to send a shout out to Addam and Jason, who help me hold it down in this piece, and my popz who still keeps it real, and nothin' but love for my sister Gwen...
Okay, sorry had to do that....
Go Gators!! Had to get that out first.
So I'm laying in the bed with my insomnia, as I do every night dwelling over the events I had this last year. So I have to say, I had a damn good year.
I made myself over completely inside and out, and I have these lovely people to thank.
1. God
I was mad at God for a little while, not gonna lie. Wondering why he stuck me with the mediocre life that I lived, wondering why after years of begging every single night for years, why I was still in this hellhole, and even though I was trying to claw my way out, how come I was still not in LA? After much professional help and less self-hatred it finally hit me. I wasn't ready. If I had left any earlier than I did right now, I would have been on the next plane home. I didn't like myself very much and it showed. Out there, can't do that. In the end, all you have is you and Him. Sorry it took me so long God, and thank you.
2. My beautician
I could write about this woman forever, but I'll make it quick. I don't know if I have ever bitched about this before, but one of my biggest lifelong dreams is to have long hair...No, seriously. My mother has continously told to me throughout the years as well as my middle sister, "I keep trying to tell your hair don't grow long. You don't have curly hair like Dean (my oldest sister). Only people with good hair have long hair" Beautician after bad beautician, perm after bad perm, short hair. Certain point, breaks off, shorter hair.
So this woman takes one look at my hair, and says, "You need to leave those perms alone. They are tearing your head up." What? The perm is tearing my head up? Stress is not taking my hair out?
"No. Just trust me and do what I tell you." That was march. Here is January and my hair has gone from the top of my ears to the top of my back. Thanks, Tish.
3.Greg Berenhdt
Writer of "He's not that into You." and "Its called a breakup because its broken". I am the queen of shitty relationships, as well as dumb as a brick when it comes to men. The book itself is pretty common sense, mostly, but it told me everything I needed to hear. Haven't looked back since.
4. My mom
Me and Moms still have our differences, but it took me living with her again to really get it and handle her. She may have her issues, and the issues are deep, trust me, but I know she will always be there for me.
5. My therapist
I don't need to talk about her, because I talk about her enough on this blog. Therapy works people. I am a believer.
Last, but not least
5.Loverboy
I finally got some emotional distance, and I now treat him for what he is.. a friend. Don't get me wrong, I still love the boy, I'm not delusional, but he is not good for me. He has been been a good friend, but he is not what I want in a boyfriend at all. And I am no longer to willing to take scraps.
I want to send a shout out to Addam and Jason, who help me hold it down in this piece, and my popz who still keeps it real, and nothin' but love for my sister Gwen...
Okay, sorry had to do that....
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Movie Review: Dreamgirls
Okay, I'm going to be as objective as I can. Putting all the negativity aside, and giving an honest and objective review.
Yes, it was good. It was very good. Very well done. I'll say that first.
No, Beyonce didn't suck. The first half of the movie anyway, she didn't suck. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't really get a fair read on her performance because she didn't really do anything. Also, the critics have neglected to say that Jennifer Hudson's part is twice the size of hers. She literally just had more to do. So if you're paying to see anybody, you're paying to see Jennifer.
Beyonce is fine as younger Deena, I guess, but by the time she morphs into older Deena, she's no personality havin' Beyonce again. There's even one supposedly serious scene where she curses and the audience in the movie theatre with me busted out laughing.
There are a lot of parts in this movie that I guess the marketing people decided to keep under wraps. The people who have the most screen time is Jamie Foxx and Jennifer Hudson, who were both good. Jamie is also the one who had the hard task of having the most dialogue among a cast of characters breaking out spontaneously into song, and somehow it still worked. Believe me, I hate Jamie Foxx, but I will say he did very well. Annika Noni Rose, who plays Lorell, the Dreamgirl who people forget is in the movie, had a much bigger part than advertised. And, trust me vocally, she is the one who was physically holding back, not Beyonce. (She loves to throw that in people's faces doesn't she?)
Eddie Murphy was fine, to me it seemed like he was playing himself somewhat, but he was still funny.
Danny Glover has a sizable part in this movie, too. And that's all I have to say about him.
Yes, it was good. It was very good. Very well done. I'll say that first.
No, Beyonce didn't suck. The first half of the movie anyway, she didn't suck. To be perfectly honest, I couldn't really get a fair read on her performance because she didn't really do anything. Also, the critics have neglected to say that Jennifer Hudson's part is twice the size of hers. She literally just had more to do. So if you're paying to see anybody, you're paying to see Jennifer.
Beyonce is fine as younger Deena, I guess, but by the time she morphs into older Deena, she's no personality havin' Beyonce again. There's even one supposedly serious scene where she curses and the audience in the movie theatre with me busted out laughing.
There are a lot of parts in this movie that I guess the marketing people decided to keep under wraps. The people who have the most screen time is Jamie Foxx and Jennifer Hudson, who were both good. Jamie is also the one who had the hard task of having the most dialogue among a cast of characters breaking out spontaneously into song, and somehow it still worked. Believe me, I hate Jamie Foxx, but I will say he did very well. Annika Noni Rose, who plays Lorell, the Dreamgirl who people forget is in the movie, had a much bigger part than advertised. And, trust me vocally, she is the one who was physically holding back, not Beyonce. (She loves to throw that in people's faces doesn't she?)
Eddie Murphy was fine, to me it seemed like he was playing himself somewhat, but he was still funny.
Danny Glover has a sizable part in this movie, too. And that's all I have to say about him.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Sweet vs. Bitch
BITTER BLOG ALERT!! WARNING DON'T WRITE ENTRIES WHEN YOUR MAD
What do you think that means? My definition is drastically different that it was years ago.
Before, one of the worst things that I could be called is a bitch. It really used to "bother me if someone even thought that I was a bitch. Why? Because, truth be told I am a lot of things, but I am not a bitch. I have always gone out of my way to be nice to people. In fact, most of my confidence came from the fact that I was one of those people everyone liked. If someone didn't like me, whether I did something to them or not, I would try to find a way to resolve it so that they would like me again. All of this trouble, and if someone rolled their eyes at me like "that bitch". My first thought would be "oh my god, I pissed her off. I have to fix it!!!". Pathetic, I know.
I accept my altruism as a part of me now. I don't shun it anymore. I don't clench my teeth everytime someone says I'm too nice. I've learned to make friends with it, and as a result, am gradually learning to control it.
I still think I'm nice, I don't think I'm "sweet" anymore. And that's okay. It's the "sweet" people who are the meanest mother fuckers you'll ever meet. The sweeties have to overcompensate for the evil that lies beneath, myself included in this category.
I don't go out of my way to speak to people anymore, I don't speak to people I don't want to speak to, and I am really sure of who I trust as well as who my real friends are.
"Sweet" is overrated. People who I have befriended and ex-friended have all been "sweet", but that's it. I never liked any other attribute of their personality than the fact that they're "sweet". This list includes "boyfriends". I've spent majority of my life giving people my time and energy that they didn't deserve. Also, from my experience, I find that a lot of "sweet" people are extremely self-involved. If you really listen to them talk, they only talk about themselves and the conversation revolves around how much them and what the world owes them, and that's not sweet.
Sadly, I can also identify with people, who society labels as bitches. Because, they don't lay it on thick with this sugary sweet exterior, because they don't take shit from people especially men, because they don't give a shit as to what anyone thinks, they are labeled as bitches. I used to think my sister was a bitch, for 20+ years in fact, she's not. She just does not care what anyone thinks, she doesn't settle for less than greatness, and the people who really know her she's great to. I get it now.
Jennifer Lopez doesn't count in this category by the way. Now she is a bitch
What do you think that means? My definition is drastically different that it was years ago.
Before, one of the worst things that I could be called is a bitch. It really used to "bother me if someone even thought that I was a bitch. Why? Because, truth be told I am a lot of things, but I am not a bitch. I have always gone out of my way to be nice to people. In fact, most of my confidence came from the fact that I was one of those people everyone liked. If someone didn't like me, whether I did something to them or not, I would try to find a way to resolve it so that they would like me again. All of this trouble, and if someone rolled their eyes at me like "that bitch". My first thought would be "oh my god, I pissed her off. I have to fix it!!!". Pathetic, I know.
I accept my altruism as a part of me now. I don't shun it anymore. I don't clench my teeth everytime someone says I'm too nice. I've learned to make friends with it, and as a result, am gradually learning to control it.
I still think I'm nice, I don't think I'm "sweet" anymore. And that's okay. It's the "sweet" people who are the meanest mother fuckers you'll ever meet. The sweeties have to overcompensate for the evil that lies beneath, myself included in this category.
I don't go out of my way to speak to people anymore, I don't speak to people I don't want to speak to, and I am really sure of who I trust as well as who my real friends are.
"Sweet" is overrated. People who I have befriended and ex-friended have all been "sweet", but that's it. I never liked any other attribute of their personality than the fact that they're "sweet". This list includes "boyfriends". I've spent majority of my life giving people my time and energy that they didn't deserve. Also, from my experience, I find that a lot of "sweet" people are extremely self-involved. If you really listen to them talk, they only talk about themselves and the conversation revolves around how much them and what the world owes them, and that's not sweet.
Sadly, I can also identify with people, who society labels as bitches. Because, they don't lay it on thick with this sugary sweet exterior, because they don't take shit from people especially men, because they don't give a shit as to what anyone thinks, they are labeled as bitches. I used to think my sister was a bitch, for 20+ years in fact, she's not. She just does not care what anyone thinks, she doesn't settle for less than greatness, and the people who really know her she's great to. I get it now.
Jennifer Lopez doesn't count in this category by the way. Now she is a bitch
Friday, December 15, 2006
The Random Blog Tidbits Post ... Again
I'm off from the University for Christmas, and I've been watching a lot of TV. So forigive me for seeming like I don't have a life....because I don't.
1. Does anybody watch Rob and Big on MTV? This is what happens with me, and I think this is what happens with most people who watch that damn show. We turn to it because there is not shit else on TV, and end up watching it and cracking the fuck up. Everytime. It was especially funny last night.
2.The Real World is halfway decent this year. I think it's because they have a black man on there who actually acts like most black men. He actually looks like an typical attractive black man. He's a little ghetto, but not too ghetto. He'll fight a motherfucker in a second, he's bright, a little charismatic, and he's a hoe. I'm not gonna front, I'd hit it. Hard.
3. Dexter on Showtime is hands down the best show on TV. You need that show in your life. For those of you who don't have showtime, you can watch it on the internet like I do. If you want it, drop me a line and I'll e-mail you the link.
4. Beyonce got nominated for a Golden Globe, huh? Well, since I consider myself very much and internet savvy celebrity gossip expert efficinado, I'll drop some knowledge on you. Celebrities pay for that nomination. Sharon Stone paid for hers, as a matter of fact, if you hear of someone being nominated for something and you're like, what the fuck? I'd say about 8 times out of 10, that they kissed major ass, sucked somebody's dick, or straight up paid somebody for that nomination. Case and point? Beyonce getting to sing 3 songs at the Oscars last year. 2 of them in foreign languages? All because she's so unbelieveably talented? Yeah, sure....
1. Does anybody watch Rob and Big on MTV? This is what happens with me, and I think this is what happens with most people who watch that damn show. We turn to it because there is not shit else on TV, and end up watching it and cracking the fuck up. Everytime. It was especially funny last night.
2.The Real World is halfway decent this year. I think it's because they have a black man on there who actually acts like most black men. He actually looks like an typical attractive black man. He's a little ghetto, but not too ghetto. He'll fight a motherfucker in a second, he's bright, a little charismatic, and he's a hoe. I'm not gonna front, I'd hit it. Hard.
3. Dexter on Showtime is hands down the best show on TV. You need that show in your life. For those of you who don't have showtime, you can watch it on the internet like I do. If you want it, drop me a line and I'll e-mail you the link.
4. Beyonce got nominated for a Golden Globe, huh? Well, since I consider myself very much and internet savvy celebrity gossip expert efficinado, I'll drop some knowledge on you. Celebrities pay for that nomination. Sharon Stone paid for hers, as a matter of fact, if you hear of someone being nominated for something and you're like, what the fuck? I'd say about 8 times out of 10, that they kissed major ass, sucked somebody's dick, or straight up paid somebody for that nomination. Case and point? Beyonce getting to sing 3 songs at the Oscars last year. 2 of them in foreign languages? All because she's so unbelieveably talented? Yeah, sure....
Sunday, December 10, 2006
The Hoe Gene
If I have to explain what this is then you dont't have one.
First, let's classify what exactly my defintion of a hoe is. My defintion of a hoe is a person who loves sex to the extent of being able to have it with a person or persons without any emotional attachment. Said hoe, is also willing to participate in questionable sexual actions with person or person(s) without remorse. A hoe may use this task for either personal gain or a continuous chase of an unattainable euphoric high.
And yes, I have one
I, as well as many others, namely women, have to keep the hoe gene under wraps, because if we don't then we will be considered...well...hoes. Of course, this does not apply to men because it is acceptable in society for them to be hoes. If women does not fight her hoe gene, then any man she gets involved with will see how easy it is for them to get sex, and how willing they are to experiment sexually. Thus the man treating her like a fuck buddy, always resulting in not being respected.
We with the hoe gene walk around with a mask. Whenever we come across a man that we find worthy of pursuing a relationship with, we must never ever let on our true persona. The hoe gene is only unmasked when we are with a specific male that we will never have any romantic feelings for, or some random person who caught us on a super drunk night at the club whose name we don't have to remember.
Typical symptoms of having a hoe gene (for females)include:
-watching way too much porn, I mean way too much porn even for a guy
-if you meet someone whose nice that you're just not attracted to that you don't plan on seeing again and you contmeplate getting sex out of it anyway
-if going 2 weeks without sex is an eternity for you, but you don't have a boyfriend.
-your fuck buddy sessions are not a treat that comes out of nowhere, but a part of your weekly routine.
-fat dudes sometimes become sexy to you.
If at least two of these five items apply to you. You have issues that need to be controlled.
I admit it, what inspired this post was that I had a re-lapse recently. The non-high school graduate dude who I spoke of in an earlier post, called me yesterday morning. Don't even like him in the least bit, but it took everything in my power not to go over his house yesterday. That's some strength for your ass.
First, let's classify what exactly my defintion of a hoe is. My defintion of a hoe is a person who loves sex to the extent of being able to have it with a person or persons without any emotional attachment. Said hoe, is also willing to participate in questionable sexual actions with person or person(s) without remorse. A hoe may use this task for either personal gain or a continuous chase of an unattainable euphoric high.
And yes, I have one
I, as well as many others, namely women, have to keep the hoe gene under wraps, because if we don't then we will be considered...well...hoes. Of course, this does not apply to men because it is acceptable in society for them to be hoes. If women does not fight her hoe gene, then any man she gets involved with will see how easy it is for them to get sex, and how willing they are to experiment sexually. Thus the man treating her like a fuck buddy, always resulting in not being respected.
We with the hoe gene walk around with a mask. Whenever we come across a man that we find worthy of pursuing a relationship with, we must never ever let on our true persona. The hoe gene is only unmasked when we are with a specific male that we will never have any romantic feelings for, or some random person who caught us on a super drunk night at the club whose name we don't have to remember.
Typical symptoms of having a hoe gene (for females)include:
-watching way too much porn, I mean way too much porn even for a guy
-if you meet someone whose nice that you're just not attracted to that you don't plan on seeing again and you contmeplate getting sex out of it anyway
-if going 2 weeks without sex is an eternity for you, but you don't have a boyfriend.
-your fuck buddy sessions are not a treat that comes out of nowhere, but a part of your weekly routine.
-fat dudes sometimes become sexy to you.
If at least two of these five items apply to you. You have issues that need to be controlled.
I admit it, what inspired this post was that I had a re-lapse recently. The non-high school graduate dude who I spoke of in an earlier post, called me yesterday morning. Don't even like him in the least bit, but it took everything in my power not to go over his house yesterday. That's some strength for your ass.
Monday, December 04, 2006
I'm sick of hearing about Kramer
So Kramer cussed out some black people in a club, and they're about to get paid.
This is what its come to when it comes to black people getting some positive press.
People have the gall in this day in age to make racist statements when the face of their youth are
"Starlets" who flash their vagina, obviously junkies, and display rude and disrespectful behavior on camera (literally) on a daily basis? With no signs of remorse.
David Banner received a humanitarian award for his efforts in hurricane katrina, and he is extremely charismatic speaker.
click here
This is what its come to when it comes to black people getting some positive press.
People have the gall in this day in age to make racist statements when the face of their youth are
"Starlets" who flash their vagina, obviously junkies, and display rude and disrespectful behavior on camera (literally) on a daily basis? With no signs of remorse.
David Banner received a humanitarian award for his efforts in hurricane katrina, and he is extremely charismatic speaker.
click here
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Why I Hate Going Out
I came to this epiphany last time I was in LA.
I hate going out....and pasta. But we'll concentrate on the topic at hand.
My cousin and I go out whenever I'm in LA, and I'm always so excited because I actually get to go to a real club instead of the non-existent ones around here. I figured because since its a bigger city, its a broader scope of men to dance with, better music, a stricter dress code, blah blah. So needless to say, I was looking forward to having a good time.
I have narrowed down my club experience down to science and each one is practically the same. First, going straight to the bar trying to generate a strong quick buzz that will carry you the rest of the night. Second, waiting for a good song to come on, then waiting, and waiting. Third, people watching while commenting on the jostling of your surroundings (a.k.a talking about girls who are too big to have on the outfits they're wearing).
And lastly, we have the actual dancing, which consists of finding a spot on the floor to get your groove on.
Hence, while partaking of the getting on of the grooving I encounter the part that I hate the absolute most about going out.
The fighting off of the sweaty men
There's nothing I hate worse then the smell of man who has been dancing hard as hell all night long, in a crowded hot club, who then spots you and decides that you are the one that he was been waiting all night to see. Therefore, he feels to need to entice you to have sex with him by rubbing his sweat drenched, musty, deodorant running, cheap cologne wearing body directly on top of yours. In motion. Ewww...dry heave.
And...here's the rub. They don't leave.
You try to politely dance away, they dance the same way. You try to turn your head, they turn it back. You try to hold your hand over your nose, they pull it down and put it on their neck. You pass out face first on the floor from the inhalation of toxic fumes, they dry hump your lifeless body on the floor. So on and so forth.
Also, when you manage to wrestle free from sweatbox and actually see someone cute that you want to dance with. One of these three instances occur:
They don't dance, nor they don't want to
Cuties don't really dance that much. If they do, they do their "I'm so cute I don't need to dance" two-step about 3 feet away from you. I also believe by the time the sweatbox is pried away from your ass with the jaws of life, every single girl in the club has tried to get in their pants, he's already chosen, and he's retired for the evening.
They're with their girl
I hate this shit. Why the fuck would you bring your girl to the club, why? What romantic memory are you trying to recapture by going to the club? The club is congested as hell so there's a big chance your going to see someone that you used to fuck. Also, desperate losers like me do not want to see you making out with your girl. I'm bitter enough being there in the first place.
Something is wrong with them
This category includes plenty. The most popular being gold teeth and speech impediments. The most common being upon first meeting uttering these words, "something ain't right about this motherfucker." If you have any more, feel free to tell me. I'm actually researching for future posts.
Yeah, and about that pasta thing. Its just slimy and gross and unfulfilling, and I'm going to stop forcing myself to eat it. That is all.
I hate going out....and pasta. But we'll concentrate on the topic at hand.
My cousin and I go out whenever I'm in LA, and I'm always so excited because I actually get to go to a real club instead of the non-existent ones around here. I figured because since its a bigger city, its a broader scope of men to dance with, better music, a stricter dress code, blah blah. So needless to say, I was looking forward to having a good time.
I have narrowed down my club experience down to science and each one is practically the same. First, going straight to the bar trying to generate a strong quick buzz that will carry you the rest of the night. Second, waiting for a good song to come on, then waiting, and waiting. Third, people watching while commenting on the jostling of your surroundings (a.k.a talking about girls who are too big to have on the outfits they're wearing).
And lastly, we have the actual dancing, which consists of finding a spot on the floor to get your groove on.
Hence, while partaking of the getting on of the grooving I encounter the part that I hate the absolute most about going out.
The fighting off of the sweaty men
There's nothing I hate worse then the smell of man who has been dancing hard as hell all night long, in a crowded hot club, who then spots you and decides that you are the one that he was been waiting all night to see. Therefore, he feels to need to entice you to have sex with him by rubbing his sweat drenched, musty, deodorant running, cheap cologne wearing body directly on top of yours. In motion. Ewww...dry heave.
And...here's the rub. They don't leave.
You try to politely dance away, they dance the same way. You try to turn your head, they turn it back. You try to hold your hand over your nose, they pull it down and put it on their neck. You pass out face first on the floor from the inhalation of toxic fumes, they dry hump your lifeless body on the floor. So on and so forth.
Also, when you manage to wrestle free from sweatbox and actually see someone cute that you want to dance with. One of these three instances occur:
They don't dance, nor they don't want to
Cuties don't really dance that much. If they do, they do their "I'm so cute I don't need to dance" two-step about 3 feet away from you. I also believe by the time the sweatbox is pried away from your ass with the jaws of life, every single girl in the club has tried to get in their pants, he's already chosen, and he's retired for the evening.
They're with their girl
I hate this shit. Why the fuck would you bring your girl to the club, why? What romantic memory are you trying to recapture by going to the club? The club is congested as hell so there's a big chance your going to see someone that you used to fuck. Also, desperate losers like me do not want to see you making out with your girl. I'm bitter enough being there in the first place.
Something is wrong with them
This category includes plenty. The most popular being gold teeth and speech impediments. The most common being upon first meeting uttering these words, "something ain't right about this motherfucker." If you have any more, feel free to tell me. I'm actually researching for future posts.
Yeah, and about that pasta thing. Its just slimy and gross and unfulfilling, and I'm going to stop forcing myself to eat it. That is all.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
The Los Angeles Project
I am PMSing right now. Something awful. Plus my dumb ass decided to get hot chocolate this morning instead of coffee, big mistake. Therefore, the bitterness that is usually present in this post will be turned up a notch. You have been warned.
I had a panic attack last night. Most of the time I have them in my sleep, to the point where they wake me up out of sleep. And I can't go back to sleep. It's not a pleasant experience.
Why did I have a panic attack you ask? Because I am the spawn of some of the most meticulous, anal retentive, semi-negative, uncomfortably direct to the point people on earth. If you have hopes and dreams? Forget about it. They won't shoot down your hopes and dreams, but they will list every single possible reason known to man as to why your reasoning is completely unrealistic.
Make sense? If not, Here's a little taste of what my life has been like.
I am not good at standardized tests, mostly because I think they're retarded. If I take one, my score is going to be average to slightly above average. So imagine what happened when I took the ACT junior year of high school. No studying, was late, only took it because I had to, plus my attention span isn't the greatest. Got a 21. Happy. Good enough to get me into a decent school. Stress relieved.
My parents got wind of the score. Even though I got into college, and had a decent GPA, I absolutely have to take it over. The main reasoning? Because my sister got a 22.
Believe me, this wasn't a mild suggestion, I mean they made me take it over. Who gives a shit that I was satisfied and my future was secured. They'll be damned if they have two children walking around with two different ACT scores. Parents like them are unfit.
Fast forward to age 27, I'm talking to my sister and telling her my plans. Understandably, she has concerns, so a natural question would be, "What if this doesn't work out, what will you do then?". Honestly, live homeless on the streets of LA and not tell my parents. But of course I didn't say that.
But she could have just left it there, but no it went to this. "Well you know, you probably need to have a backup city, and start thinking about going there." Keep in mind, my sister knows I want to be an actress, so there really is no other city. Where the hell does she want me to go, Vancouver?
My point is, she had a valid point, but perhaps she should save it for when I'm not so hopeful.
My replacement starts in January, I have move dates, I'm screwed if I have to come back. Hence, my panic attack last night.
Its a little to early to start putting in resumes (I'm leaving in February), so no job prospects have come to fruition, and money is going to be tighter than expected due to my car fucking up every five minutes, and all I have to depend on is me.
(This will be continued by the way, not continuously but intermittently, pray for me)
I had a panic attack last night. Most of the time I have them in my sleep, to the point where they wake me up out of sleep. And I can't go back to sleep. It's not a pleasant experience.
Why did I have a panic attack you ask? Because I am the spawn of some of the most meticulous, anal retentive, semi-negative, uncomfortably direct to the point people on earth. If you have hopes and dreams? Forget about it. They won't shoot down your hopes and dreams, but they will list every single possible reason known to man as to why your reasoning is completely unrealistic.
Make sense? If not, Here's a little taste of what my life has been like.
I am not good at standardized tests, mostly because I think they're retarded. If I take one, my score is going to be average to slightly above average. So imagine what happened when I took the ACT junior year of high school. No studying, was late, only took it because I had to, plus my attention span isn't the greatest. Got a 21. Happy. Good enough to get me into a decent school. Stress relieved.
My parents got wind of the score. Even though I got into college, and had a decent GPA, I absolutely have to take it over. The main reasoning? Because my sister got a 22.
Believe me, this wasn't a mild suggestion, I mean they made me take it over. Who gives a shit that I was satisfied and my future was secured. They'll be damned if they have two children walking around with two different ACT scores. Parents like them are unfit.
Fast forward to age 27, I'm talking to my sister and telling her my plans. Understandably, she has concerns, so a natural question would be, "What if this doesn't work out, what will you do then?". Honestly, live homeless on the streets of LA and not tell my parents. But of course I didn't say that.
But she could have just left it there, but no it went to this. "Well you know, you probably need to have a backup city, and start thinking about going there." Keep in mind, my sister knows I want to be an actress, so there really is no other city. Where the hell does she want me to go, Vancouver?
My point is, she had a valid point, but perhaps she should save it for when I'm not so hopeful.
My replacement starts in January, I have move dates, I'm screwed if I have to come back. Hence, my panic attack last night.
Its a little to early to start putting in resumes (I'm leaving in February), so no job prospects have come to fruition, and money is going to be tighter than expected due to my car fucking up every five minutes, and all I have to depend on is me.
(This will be continued by the way, not continuously but intermittently, pray for me)
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
The 5K Run
So I ran my first 5K this past weekend. It was interesting. Its one of those things that I said I've always wanted to do, but just never really cared enough to do the work. So, in light of my self-improvement kick that I've been on the last couple of months. I decided to do it. I decided to dedicate this post those of you who always kinda wanted to do something, anything, no matter how stupid or unattainable it may be. This is how I got off my ass.
First, things first, I am the most lackadaisical mother fucker you will ever meet. I don't give a flying shit about a lot of things. It came from traumatic childhood experiences that went something like this:
Me: Daddy, can I take gymnastics?
Daddy: No, go to school
Me: Daddy, can I take piano?
Daddy: No, go to school.
Me: Daddy, can I take swimming lessons?
Daddy: No, you need to get your math grade up, you got a B. Your taking college level math classes this summer.
Me: I hate my life!
Daddy: I don't care...
You get the idea.
So I had been "exercising" on and off since this summer. When I say "exercising", I mean getting my walk on 3 times a week. It got cold outside, I had to start going to the gym after work. I was on the treadmill bored out of my mind, looking around at all of the white girls sprinting on the treadmill next to me, and I said, "I'm old. Walking ain't getting it anymore". So I looked on the internet for going from couch potato to running, and it said that I could be running a decent amount in a month. I figured what the hell. I also have an ipod, that helps tremendously.
It went from that to, running with a girl who's in the army who drags me to the gym every night, to I wonder if I can run 3 miles, to doing some research on the internet on local 5K's in the area. Here are some bullet points if you ever decide to do this:
* People who run are insane. They have all the expensive gear, they wear coochie shorts in 5 degree weather. They have this look in their eyes , like "I'm going to eat you".
*The 5K's are usually nothing for them. This is just a warm-up for the 2-day marathon that's coming up for next week. Just trying to get those legs loosened up.
*5K run means run, not jog. The winning time was 15 minutes. That's like 4 minutes a mile. I'm not going to say my time, but it was much, much faster than mine.
*This is an event where low standards are necessary. If you try to compete, you will fallout. My goal was to finish, not stop, and not come in last. Three goals that I can happily say I achieved. I tried to get cocky and set a goal time, but that was thrown out around mile 2 when I ran out of breath.
*Honestly, I hate running. But something about it makes you want to keep going. People look at you differently when you tell you run. Next week, I'm going to try and start training for 10K.
So to summarize, if I can run anyone can. For real, any of y'all..You'll be surprised at what you can do if you put your mind to it, blah, blah. Baby steps. And as far my body, in my opinion, it has totally changed and its the only exercise that has truly done that.
If my little inspirational speech doesn't work, maybe this will..
First, things first, I am the most lackadaisical mother fucker you will ever meet. I don't give a flying shit about a lot of things. It came from traumatic childhood experiences that went something like this:
Me: Daddy, can I take gymnastics?
Daddy: No, go to school
Me: Daddy, can I take piano?
Daddy: No, go to school.
Me: Daddy, can I take swimming lessons?
Daddy: No, you need to get your math grade up, you got a B. Your taking college level math classes this summer.
Me: I hate my life!
Daddy: I don't care...
You get the idea.
So I had been "exercising" on and off since this summer. When I say "exercising", I mean getting my walk on 3 times a week. It got cold outside, I had to start going to the gym after work. I was on the treadmill bored out of my mind, looking around at all of the white girls sprinting on the treadmill next to me, and I said, "I'm old. Walking ain't getting it anymore". So I looked on the internet for going from couch potato to running, and it said that I could be running a decent amount in a month. I figured what the hell. I also have an ipod, that helps tremendously.
It went from that to, running with a girl who's in the army who drags me to the gym every night, to I wonder if I can run 3 miles, to doing some research on the internet on local 5K's in the area. Here are some bullet points if you ever decide to do this:
* People who run are insane. They have all the expensive gear, they wear coochie shorts in 5 degree weather. They have this look in their eyes , like "I'm going to eat you".
*The 5K's are usually nothing for them. This is just a warm-up for the 2-day marathon that's coming up for next week. Just trying to get those legs loosened up.
*5K run means run, not jog. The winning time was 15 minutes. That's like 4 minutes a mile. I'm not going to say my time, but it was much, much faster than mine.
*This is an event where low standards are necessary. If you try to compete, you will fallout. My goal was to finish, not stop, and not come in last. Three goals that I can happily say I achieved. I tried to get cocky and set a goal time, but that was thrown out around mile 2 when I ran out of breath.
*Honestly, I hate running. But something about it makes you want to keep going. People look at you differently when you tell you run. Next week, I'm going to try and start training for 10K.
So to summarize, if I can run anyone can. For real, any of y'all..You'll be surprised at what you can do if you put your mind to it, blah, blah. Baby steps. And as far my body, in my opinion, it has totally changed and its the only exercise that has truly done that.
If my little inspirational speech doesn't work, maybe this will..
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Random Blog Tidbits
A. So Mario Lopez didn't win Dancing with the Stars, huh. I don't even watch the show and I know he should have. Emmitt Smith? He seems like a nice guy and all, but dancing wise a world of no. I know why Mario didn't win though, he's good-looking with a great body and he's a good dancer, so therefore his life is perfect enough already.
B. Attention whore's been giving me the evil eye at work, still. I this had to do with convo she had last week with her cousin (the stupid asshole I'm in love with who doesn't love me who I talk about all the time, for those who are first-timers) about me being a "secret genius" and all. This boy should have a name now since I'm obviously still borderline obsessed with him, so he is now christened Loverboy.
C."Loverboy" was in town this week, and for the first time in long time, I didn't feel like a moron around him. Usually my attitude is something like, "oh my god, I'm so in love with you I can't even function as a human being." Now its somewhere along the lines of, "oh, you're more predictable than I thought, I can handle this now" This was a really big breakthrough for me therapy wise.
D. I don't care about Tom and Katie's wedding. Nor about Britney Spears's divorce. Neither does the rest of the world. So join with me in my boycott.
E. I still hate Jennifer Lopez.
F. And Tyra Banks
G. I now hate Halle Berry now that I know she's a fraud. Bitch has had an assload of plastic surgery, and I can't believe I didn't notice it before.
H. Last but not least, I have a seething hatred for this girl, her name is Paula Patton. She is in the new Denzel Washington movie. She's that type of pretty that you can't be friends because she brings out all your flaws when you stand next to her. And, to top it all off she is married, not fucking, not dating, but married to the for real father of my children, Robin Thicke. Here they are in all of their sickening glory:
B. Attention whore's been giving me the evil eye at work, still. I this had to do with convo she had last week with her cousin (the stupid asshole I'm in love with who doesn't love me who I talk about all the time, for those who are first-timers) about me being a "secret genius" and all. This boy should have a name now since I'm obviously still borderline obsessed with him, so he is now christened Loverboy.
C."Loverboy" was in town this week, and for the first time in long time, I didn't feel like a moron around him. Usually my attitude is something like, "oh my god, I'm so in love with you I can't even function as a human being." Now its somewhere along the lines of, "oh, you're more predictable than I thought, I can handle this now" This was a really big breakthrough for me therapy wise.
D. I don't care about Tom and Katie's wedding. Nor about Britney Spears's divorce. Neither does the rest of the world. So join with me in my boycott.
E. I still hate Jennifer Lopez.
F. And Tyra Banks
G. I now hate Halle Berry now that I know she's a fraud. Bitch has had an assload of plastic surgery, and I can't believe I didn't notice it before.
H. Last but not least, I have a seething hatred for this girl, her name is Paula Patton. She is in the new Denzel Washington movie. She's that type of pretty that you can't be friends because she brings out all your flaws when you stand next to her. And, to top it all off she is married, not fucking, not dating, but married to the for real father of my children, Robin Thicke. Here they are in all of their sickening glory:
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
The Bi-Yearly Freakout part deux
I am the bionic woman, I am a robot. I can certainly dish it out my fair share of psycho babble bullshit, but now the inside is totally hollow.
I had a heart to heart with my beautician yesterday. I had to impart some of my therapy wisdom on her because she was going through it.
Long story, very, very short. She's a pretty girl, she's also a very nice girl, she's also a very good beautician, as a result she gets a lot of clients. She gets hated on. Very openly, by her co-workers, and others, a lot. I see it. Certain women know what I'm talking about. Women who have little to no female friends. If they do its usually women they have known for a long ass time. Women who have jobs (careers) that make good money, who have ambition to do more. Women who don't have a thousand men calling them on their cell phones, who don't have unecessary drama with the men they are with, and who are perfectly happy in a stable, monogamous relationship. I know who you are, and I feel you.
Once again, it's the shithole that I live in. A lot of women, not all of them, both black and white, have nothing for real going on. Their livelihood is the men that they're with or the men they're trying to get. If they have no men, it's all about being with "family", if it's not the "family", its got something to do with getting more involved in the "church." (Ugh, more about religious hyprocrites later, that's a book).
Also, because its mini-shithole, everybody knows everybody. My male friend's cousin works at my job. She's the attention whole I has previously spoken about. They ran into each other yesterday. Apparently, the consenus around the office (by the females) is that I'm weird.
This didn't piss me off, promise. I just found it really fascinating.
Continuing on with subtext of the conversation, I was told that I don't really say very much. No one really knows that much about my personal business, apparently I'm really good at my job but I keep it a secret, and of course, she doesn't have a boyfriend. Because God knows, if you don't have a man you're a freak of nature.
Keep in mind all the women at my job are "married". By "married", I mean they are legally or common-law bound to trifling men. I have met all of the betrothed several times, except for attention-whore's, and just going by their personalities alone, if was set up on a blind date with any of them, I would have taken a very long trip to the bathroom.
I thought you weren't supposed to tell any of your personal business? I thought you weren't supposed to brag about how smart you are? I also thought you weren't supposed to be with anyone unless you wanted to be? Maybe I'm crazy, I guess this just means I'm not.
Getting back to my beautician, I basically told her that I have had several experiences with women in Tuscaloosa, 9+ years (adding the story about the ghetto fighting work bitch who I had to throw out my car after making a very strong pass at me), and basically they are crazy. Adding, that my own mother hates on me and my sister. It doesn't mean anything except that you're doing something right.
I had a heart to heart with my beautician yesterday. I had to impart some of my therapy wisdom on her because she was going through it.
Long story, very, very short. She's a pretty girl, she's also a very nice girl, she's also a very good beautician, as a result she gets a lot of clients. She gets hated on. Very openly, by her co-workers, and others, a lot. I see it. Certain women know what I'm talking about. Women who have little to no female friends. If they do its usually women they have known for a long ass time. Women who have jobs (careers) that make good money, who have ambition to do more. Women who don't have a thousand men calling them on their cell phones, who don't have unecessary drama with the men they are with, and who are perfectly happy in a stable, monogamous relationship. I know who you are, and I feel you.
Once again, it's the shithole that I live in. A lot of women, not all of them, both black and white, have nothing for real going on. Their livelihood is the men that they're with or the men they're trying to get. If they have no men, it's all about being with "family", if it's not the "family", its got something to do with getting more involved in the "church." (Ugh, more about religious hyprocrites later, that's a book).
Also, because its mini-shithole, everybody knows everybody. My male friend's cousin works at my job. She's the attention whole I has previously spoken about. They ran into each other yesterday. Apparently, the consenus around the office (by the females) is that I'm weird.
This didn't piss me off, promise. I just found it really fascinating.
Continuing on with subtext of the conversation, I was told that I don't really say very much. No one really knows that much about my personal business, apparently I'm really good at my job but I keep it a secret, and of course, she doesn't have a boyfriend. Because God knows, if you don't have a man you're a freak of nature.
Keep in mind all the women at my job are "married". By "married", I mean they are legally or common-law bound to trifling men. I have met all of the betrothed several times, except for attention-whore's, and just going by their personalities alone, if was set up on a blind date with any of them, I would have taken a very long trip to the bathroom.
I thought you weren't supposed to tell any of your personal business? I thought you weren't supposed to brag about how smart you are? I also thought you weren't supposed to be with anyone unless you wanted to be? Maybe I'm crazy, I guess this just means I'm not.
Getting back to my beautician, I basically told her that I have had several experiences with women in Tuscaloosa, 9+ years (adding the story about the ghetto fighting work bitch who I had to throw out my car after making a very strong pass at me), and basically they are crazy. Adding, that my own mother hates on me and my sister. It doesn't mean anything except that you're doing something right.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
The Bi-Yearly Freakout
Editor's note: I go through this initial freakout maybe about twice a year, and I have probably written this word for word in some form or another, whether it's been spread out through several entries, or one big rant. So, feel free to skip if you've heard it before, or you're just sick of hearing it period.
I cannot believe, I still do not have a fucking boyfriend
I broke up with my ex, my actual fiance ex going on 4.5 years now, and for sure thought by the time I was almost 30 I would at the very least almost be engaged. Or in a long-term relationship. Nope. Nothing. Not even close. There have been (gasp) several dalliances in and out, no pun intended. But nothing even remotely close to stable, nothing, in 4 and a half years.
One of my friends who lives in Tennessee recently got engaged. She deserved to be engaged, she's a really great girl. She got enagaged to a man who supports her, who understands her, and most of all, loves her for who she is.
She's younger than me by about 2 years, and she's one of the more mature people that I know. I am genuinely happy for her, but my inner bitch says, why can't that happen to me?
I know have been carrying on about how I've been working on myself, loving myself, and blah, blah, blah whatever...but one the issues that I have spoken about in my therapy sessions is how every positive thing that I do for myself is in some way or another subconsciously doing it to get a boyfriend. For example, "Ooh, I like football, men like football, men have to like women who like football. Ooh, I run. Some men run, men like women who run." So on and so forth. I've gotten a lot better about it lately. But like I said earlier. The bi-yearly freakout is inevitable.
Yes, I know its where I am. That situation will change soon. But I honestly don't think that this is going away when I move. At the college I went to, out of 23,000 students, there were 900 black people. 500 of them were women. You would think at one point in time or another, at the very least one of the trifling men would trickle down to me...nope. I didn't even have sex until the middle of junior year.
Recently, the first male I had been seeing since my "metamorphisis", didn't have a job (but he was laid off), lived with his mama (I live with my mama, so I can't get mad), and I (begrudgingly admit) did not have a high school diploma. Let me see, what were the good things, again....oh. He was a gentleman, big time. He actually wanted to date me, and I believed he just generally liked being around me. It wasn't until then I at that moment that I thought, that every single solitary male that I have ever dealt with ever, was an asshole.
How did we "break up"? It was my fault honestly. I didn't want to have sex him. I said I would eventually, but I lied, I wouldn't. I'm pretty sure he caught on to that, and moved on accordingly. Its cool. And that's the way it should be.
Yeah, there's going to be a part 2 to this one.
I cannot believe, I still do not have a fucking boyfriend
I broke up with my ex, my actual fiance ex going on 4.5 years now, and for sure thought by the time I was almost 30 I would at the very least almost be engaged. Or in a long-term relationship. Nope. Nothing. Not even close. There have been (gasp) several dalliances in and out, no pun intended. But nothing even remotely close to stable, nothing, in 4 and a half years.
One of my friends who lives in Tennessee recently got engaged. She deserved to be engaged, she's a really great girl. She got enagaged to a man who supports her, who understands her, and most of all, loves her for who she is.
She's younger than me by about 2 years, and she's one of the more mature people that I know. I am genuinely happy for her, but my inner bitch says, why can't that happen to me?
I know have been carrying on about how I've been working on myself, loving myself, and blah, blah, blah whatever...but one the issues that I have spoken about in my therapy sessions is how every positive thing that I do for myself is in some way or another subconsciously doing it to get a boyfriend. For example, "Ooh, I like football, men like football, men have to like women who like football. Ooh, I run. Some men run, men like women who run." So on and so forth. I've gotten a lot better about it lately. But like I said earlier. The bi-yearly freakout is inevitable.
Yes, I know its where I am. That situation will change soon. But I honestly don't think that this is going away when I move. At the college I went to, out of 23,000 students, there were 900 black people. 500 of them were women. You would think at one point in time or another, at the very least one of the trifling men would trickle down to me...nope. I didn't even have sex until the middle of junior year.
Recently, the first male I had been seeing since my "metamorphisis", didn't have a job (but he was laid off), lived with his mama (I live with my mama, so I can't get mad), and I (begrudgingly admit) did not have a high school diploma. Let me see, what were the good things, again....oh. He was a gentleman, big time. He actually wanted to date me, and I believed he just generally liked being around me. It wasn't until then I at that moment that I thought, that every single solitary male that I have ever dealt with ever, was an asshole.
How did we "break up"? It was my fault honestly. I didn't want to have sex him. I said I would eventually, but I lied, I wouldn't. I'm pretty sure he caught on to that, and moved on accordingly. Its cool. And that's the way it should be.
Yeah, there's going to be a part 2 to this one.
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