Am I glad this week is over? Is the Pope Catholic?
4 blistering rejections, 1 minor tiff with the Boy (resolved), and papers galore is about the summary of my week. I can only pray that this week is marginally better than the last, because chile, I am only so much a woman.
Friday, my journalism class went to an Atlanta Hawks game as reporters. I was, to say the least, terrified, though basketball is my first love. Would it be too fast-paced? What if I froze at the press conference? What if I get mistaken for an NBA groupie?!?! Turns out, I had nothing to fear. I'd done my research, prepared my questions, and duh, have followed basketball since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. So basically it was like a fan-experience times 20. And yes, I got to go to the locker-room post-game. Glory. The girls in my class and I were the only female reporters. Which means that, should we become forerunners in the sports journalism field, we will be taking large steps for our race and gender. But that is a discussion for another time.
Things with the Boy are great. The crap in my head, however, is another story. He says he likes me a lot (and I adore him, of course), but I take stock in his actions more so than his words. His actions are generally just as good, though. I can't describe where my head's at when it comes to him and us. I don't know, he said something about how he felt about our "relationship," and it was like listening to my own thoughts. Weird, right? Again, I can't explain it. I think that my inexperience in the dating world is coming through, here. Like, what are the signs of not caring/loss of interest? Was he annoyed that I called? He's refreshingly honest, but that doesn't make him any easier to read without coming off suspicious or nagging or overly-concerned with our status. I think my problem is that I don't want to come on too strong or too involved so early in, but then that makes me pull away in the other direction. Does that make sense? Are you shaking your head yet, wondering how a girl get a great guy to fall into her lap and be scared shitless as a result? I really just need to get a grip, relax, and enjoy. For some reason, it's harder than it sounds. Baby, I don't want to screw this up, either. I really, really, really, like you. Simple as that.
Random: on Monday we get our Shakespeare midterm papers back. Oh, God! I'd skip classes altogether, but I'd like to say, down the road, that in the face of adversity (read: boredom), I buckled down and went to all my classes faithfully. I feel guilty and lazy when I don't go. But keep the television warm for me just in case, come Monday morning, I glance at the clock, snicker, and go back to sleep.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
I Just Want You Closer
2:30am, we have got to stop meeting like this.
After Saturday's woe-is-me whine fest (thanks for the comment love, Cara!), I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and got it together. Well, I took a nap and watched the end of "Titanic." God, I love that movie. I actually cried at the end, for like, the second time in my life. It was rather emotional in my room that night, huh? Roommate and Cali Girl swung by and I ended up spending the night over at the BK Lounge, so it was gravy. Then we got up for Easter service--as in, church (I know, right? But come on, it was Resurrection Sunday, people. If not then, when?) at this huge mega-church that holds Easters service at the Georgia Dome. Seriously, like it was the Final Four or something! But I would have drawn the line at Philips Arena. That is just doing too much. I have never seen so much fanfare at a church before, complete with dance teams, speeches...the mom from the tv show "Moesha" was there, and she did this dramatic, motivational monologue where she would randomly sing her words; it was gloriously dramatic so you know I loved it (if you click on the link, the intro was the song that she sang. A lot, right?). However, when the members started doing this hand motion/chant that apparently the church does every week, we were slightly worn out. Top Chef looked around, turned to me and said the best line I'd heard all day: "I feel slightly cult-ish." Hallelujah, amen.
The Boy came to Easter dinner at the BK Lounge. I think I ribbed him a little at first, but I didn't know what else to do. The mature statement, of course, would have been, "I'm really, really happy that you're here. Please sit next to me." But, true to form, as to not let my emotions show, I settled for being slightly difficult. Childish, I know, but we must keep in mind that I have issues and complications, as my father likes to joke. Anyway, after dinner I got myself together and we snuggled up on the couch while everyone watched "Smokin' Aces" (it wasn't bad. We missed the beginning but it was relatively entertaining).
It's so weird to use the word "snuggle" as the verb in a sentence in which "we" (as in, me) is the subject. Lucky does not snuggle. Lucky teases boys out of insecurity and gets sad when she drives them away. Weird as that may be, though, it's even weirder to walk your boy to his car and have him smile, hug you, and whisper, "You weren't being difficult."
This may be okay. More later, when the sun is up. Lately, all I've wanted to do is curl up and sleep, listening to my Chill Mix (Paolo Nutini, Corinne Bailey Rae, Alicia Keys, you know, the smooth stuff). My bed looks quite good right now, so until the sun comes up, cheers.
After Saturday's woe-is-me whine fest (thanks for the comment love, Cara!), I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and got it together. Well, I took a nap and watched the end of "Titanic." God, I love that movie. I actually cried at the end, for like, the second time in my life. It was rather emotional in my room that night, huh? Roommate and Cali Girl swung by and I ended up spending the night over at the BK Lounge, so it was gravy. Then we got up for Easter service--as in, church (I know, right? But come on, it was Resurrection Sunday, people. If not then, when?) at this huge mega-church that holds Easters service at the Georgia Dome. Seriously, like it was the Final Four or something! But I would have drawn the line at Philips Arena. That is just doing too much. I have never seen so much fanfare at a church before, complete with dance teams, speeches...the mom from the tv show "Moesha" was there, and she did this dramatic, motivational monologue where she would randomly sing her words; it was gloriously dramatic so you know I loved it (if you click on the link, the intro was the song that she sang. A lot, right?). However, when the members started doing this hand motion/chant that apparently the church does every week, we were slightly worn out. Top Chef looked around, turned to me and said the best line I'd heard all day: "I feel slightly cult-ish." Hallelujah, amen.
The Boy came to Easter dinner at the BK Lounge. I think I ribbed him a little at first, but I didn't know what else to do. The mature statement, of course, would have been, "I'm really, really happy that you're here. Please sit next to me." But, true to form, as to not let my emotions show, I settled for being slightly difficult. Childish, I know, but we must keep in mind that I have issues and complications, as my father likes to joke. Anyway, after dinner I got myself together and we snuggled up on the couch while everyone watched "Smokin' Aces" (it wasn't bad. We missed the beginning but it was relatively entertaining).
It's so weird to use the word "snuggle" as the verb in a sentence in which "we" (as in, me) is the subject. Lucky does not snuggle. Lucky teases boys out of insecurity and gets sad when she drives them away. Weird as that may be, though, it's even weirder to walk your boy to his car and have him smile, hug you, and whisper, "You weren't being difficult."
This may be okay. More later, when the sun is up. Lately, all I've wanted to do is curl up and sleep, listening to my Chill Mix (Paolo Nutini, Corinne Bailey Rae, Alicia Keys, you know, the smooth stuff). My bed looks quite good right now, so until the sun comes up, cheers.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
And Down Came the Rain
Right now, at this very moment, I have never felt more alone and frustrated and uncool. Alone because I'm still cooped up in my room, practically walking in circles. I know it's not true, but it feels like everyone is out doing super-fun stuff but me. (Geez, Lucky, melodramatic, much?) The only things I can think of to do are homework-related, and Ican find no motivation to do that, either. Frustrated because I can't find my hot-comb and tomorrow's Easter. I just had it before I went on spring break! Maybe it's petty, but not knowing where it is in the 12x12 area space of my dorm room seriously drives me bonkers. And, lastly, uncool because, well, all of the above, I guess. This is honestly morbidly depressing.
I could comfort myself with thoughts of the Boy, but that would shed light on the fact that he hasn't texted me back yet. Oh, wait, Corrine Bailey Rae just sang, "I feel your kisses/on the back of my neck/and ooh/everything's just fine/with me/'cause your love is mine..." Tee-hee. Now I am grinning like an idiot. And there is some unfortunate giggling, I'm afraid. Lord have mercy. Things ought to get better soon, Top Chef will be around soon. And you know, thoughts of the Boy really are comforting. I knew boys were good for something...
Eureka! I think I'll make a new Ipod playlist. I can hear the wind outside, yielding a cool breeze to match the darkness of the room and the mellow sounds of Kate Earl. Smooth.
I could comfort myself with thoughts of the Boy, but that would shed light on the fact that he hasn't texted me back yet. Oh, wait, Corrine Bailey Rae just sang, "I feel your kisses/on the back of my neck/and ooh/everything's just fine/with me/'cause your love is mine..." Tee-hee. Now I am grinning like an idiot. And there is some unfortunate giggling, I'm afraid. Lord have mercy. Things ought to get better soon, Top Chef will be around soon. And you know, thoughts of the Boy really are comforting. I knew boys were good for something...
Eureka! I think I'll make a new Ipod playlist. I can hear the wind outside, yielding a cool breeze to match the darkness of the room and the mellow sounds of Kate Earl. Smooth.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Fridays are always Good
I have left my room exactly twice today: to eat lunch and take out the garbage. My booty has been planted to my desk chair for the past two hours. And what do I have to show for it? Perfectly painted nails (toes, too), and er, well, not much else. I take that back, I did dabble in some homework and follow-ups on projects and whatnot. Truth be told, I kind of enjoy days like this where I can take my time lounging around in a wifebeater and shorts and use my Body Shop Body Butter (in Pomegranate, if you must know) on every inch of me as I listen to music and peruse my daily blog rotation. However, I fear I will be bored in a little while, smooth-skinned and mani/pedi'd though I may be. Friends are out, it's just been me. I probably will see them tonight. If anything, I might see *him* tonight...
Or, okay, if worse comes to worst and I really have nothing to do, I might you know, be sensible and fill out internship applications or make a dent in my homework. But that is the worst-case scenario.
Or, okay, if worse comes to worst and I really have nothing to do, I might you know, be sensible and fill out internship applications or make a dent in my homework. But that is the worst-case scenario.
Thank Goodness
It only takes one great boy to make you realize what complete losers the ones before him were.
It's still early so I don't want to put too much stock into anything. It can't be that deep. I am determined not to screw this up, whatever "this" turns out to be. But I have to admit, where we're at feels pretty damn, well, fantastic. I can't even write much because it will probably be cheesy, lovey-dovey fanfare, and I will spare y'all that. Just know that he makes me happy. He makes me smile. He makes me zone out in class 'cause I'm thinking about all the cute things he said the night before.
Even before that stuff, today was actually rather perfect. Everything sort of fell into place, including random stuff like:
-I looked skinny, and my hair was behaving :)
-The weather was incredible
-I got an A on my Basic Newswriting midterm
-I got a freelance writing assignment to interview a cool artist for a super-cool magazine
-I crossed a bunch of stuff off of my to-do list
-I finally saw Cali Girl for more than, like, 10 minutes
Tomorrow (well, today) is Good Friday. I really hope it is. Good, I mean.
It's still early so I don't want to put too much stock into anything. It can't be that deep. I am determined not to screw this up, whatever "this" turns out to be. But I have to admit, where we're at feels pretty damn, well, fantastic. I can't even write much because it will probably be cheesy, lovey-dovey fanfare, and I will spare y'all that. Just know that he makes me happy. He makes me smile. He makes me zone out in class 'cause I'm thinking about all the cute things he said the night before.
Even before that stuff, today was actually rather perfect. Everything sort of fell into place, including random stuff like:
-I looked skinny, and my hair was behaving :)
-The weather was incredible
-I got an A on my Basic Newswriting midterm
-I got a freelance writing assignment to interview a cool artist for a super-cool magazine
-I crossed a bunch of stuff off of my to-do list
-I finally saw Cali Girl for more than, like, 10 minutes
Tomorrow (well, today) is Good Friday. I really hope it is. Good, I mean.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The Lone Idea
After a night during which so, so many things transpired, I can only think that now I feel even more super-badly about being drunk that one time (yes, I'm still talking about it, bear with me) because apparently, I was The Annoying Drunk Girl. Was, am, probably will be again. How embarrassingly guilt-inducing.
So yeah, Taken Boy. He's quite a character. And on that subject I will remain surprisingly tight-lipped. Or at least I will try. He called me cute. No one ever calls me that. I get called regal, tomboyish, even sloppy from time to time, (not to mention, apparently, the Annoying D.G. Hmpf. Ok, ok, I'm letting it go...) but never cute. So he gets points for that I suppose. Right. Now that's enough of that.
Tomorrow I have a Paper meeting in which I think we will have to discuss Ways We Can Improve. I think it will get ugly, but your girl Lucky ain't no coward. At least, she hopes not. Speaking of displays of cowardice, I totally almost dropped my Spanish minor completely today. I was dissatisfied with a grade I'd gotten and wasn't sure if it was worth it. But I talked to my teacher and am now thoroughly convinced that I am in "A"-range if I give it that lil' extra push. And if it's one thing that I am, it's a clutch player. So game on.
Right, right, even thought it's almost 3am and I definitely have an article due tomorrow. But again, I don't have much to do during the day so I will just G it out and do it. I do have to give a speech declaring why prostitution should be legalized. I never gave it much thought. Question, though: can I refer to them as "working girls," "hookers," "streetwalkers," "ladies of the night" or anything of that ilk? You can't after all, rebuild the master's house using his tools (or is it destroy? I forget)--what I mean is, you can't argue for social change if you're using derogatory terms or stereotypes. That was the topic of Shakespeare today. Pretty interesting, actually. I was awake. Too bad I can't say the same for Ren Lit. I didn't mean to doze off and I felt bad, but damn if Dr. H's voice wasn't quite mellow and soothing.
I still gotta fill out my Final Four brackets. I spent Selection Sunday on an airplane, and haven't stopped to regroup, but I gotta get my teams right! Especially after my beloved MSU lost this past weekend in a heartbreaker. And so did Duke. But hey, at least the 2009 FF will be in Detroit! Too bad I won't be there. But that's okay. I'll be there in spirit.
So yeah, Taken Boy. He's quite a character. And on that subject I will remain surprisingly tight-lipped. Or at least I will try. He called me cute. No one ever calls me that. I get called regal, tomboyish, even sloppy from time to time, (not to mention, apparently, the Annoying D.G. Hmpf. Ok, ok, I'm letting it go...) but never cute. So he gets points for that I suppose. Right. Now that's enough of that.
Tomorrow I have a Paper meeting in which I think we will have to discuss Ways We Can Improve. I think it will get ugly, but your girl Lucky ain't no coward. At least, she hopes not. Speaking of displays of cowardice, I totally almost dropped my Spanish minor completely today. I was dissatisfied with a grade I'd gotten and wasn't sure if it was worth it. But I talked to my teacher and am now thoroughly convinced that I am in "A"-range if I give it that lil' extra push. And if it's one thing that I am, it's a clutch player. So game on.
Right, right, even thought it's almost 3am and I definitely have an article due tomorrow. But again, I don't have much to do during the day so I will just G it out and do it. I do have to give a speech declaring why prostitution should be legalized. I never gave it much thought. Question, though: can I refer to them as "working girls," "hookers," "streetwalkers," "ladies of the night" or anything of that ilk? You can't after all, rebuild the master's house using his tools (or is it destroy? I forget)--what I mean is, you can't argue for social change if you're using derogatory terms or stereotypes. That was the topic of Shakespeare today. Pretty interesting, actually. I was awake. Too bad I can't say the same for Ren Lit. I didn't mean to doze off and I felt bad, but damn if Dr. H's voice wasn't quite mellow and soothing.
I still gotta fill out my Final Four brackets. I spent Selection Sunday on an airplane, and haven't stopped to regroup, but I gotta get my teams right! Especially after my beloved MSU lost this past weekend in a heartbreaker. And so did Duke. But hey, at least the 2009 FF will be in Detroit! Too bad I won't be there. But that's okay. I'll be there in spirit.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Just a Pit-Stop
Back to the Monday-morning grind. My flight was delayed for 3 hours yesterday, pushing my arrival in Atlanta from 5:12pm to roughly 9pm. Talk about a long day.
Just checkin' in until I have something fun to post, but quick shout out to Cara, if you're reading this: I can't access your blog :( help me out, girl!
That's all for now. A little humor for you: I went to my class at Morehouse this morning and at the end of the period realized that my long-sleeved polo shirt was unbuttoned. Like, all the way. Mortifying, much?
Just checkin' in until I have something fun to post, but quick shout out to Cara, if you're reading this: I can't access your blog :( help me out, girl!
That's all for now. A little humor for you: I went to my class at Morehouse this morning and at the end of the period realized that my long-sleeved polo shirt was unbuttoned. Like, all the way. Mortifying, much?
Friday, March 14, 2008
Fun Day
Another eventful, yet relaxing day as the Pistons grace my television screen.
Spent the whole day in the hair salon today. Whew. At least my hair looks nice. There was this lady there who worked out a lot and ended up having to get a relaxer and a haircut. It was soooo cute! It was a maturer woman's version of Rihanna's cut. And we know that anything related to RiRi is okay with me.
At Border's, I found a black historical romance novel--a rarity. I think I had an embarrassingly loud and happy reaction and, duh, bought it on the spot. The happiness continued when I went to Ulta today and got my nail polish (yay). Black Cherry Chutney here I come. The downside is that the suburban strip mall is hellacious to navigate, what with those soccer moms in their minivans driving like it's coupon day at Kroger's or something; I got honked at--twice! I did have a mini freak-out when I saw this attractive black couple strolling hand-in-hand; they were so cute! All I could do was sigh (scream) "Black love!" to my windshield.
This Taken Boy situation is getting a little sticky. How much of a microcosm is any action committed through Facebook, though? I mean, a general rule of thumb is that nothing's 100% official until it appears in your news feed, but then again, it is only Facebook, not the law. Or is it? And irony of all ironies, but the subject of Oprah today was the proverbial "other woman;" women who had or have had affairs (some were ongoing) with married men. I discreetly hung my head in shame as the guest psychologist read homewreckers everywhere for filth. But wait. We're putting the cart before the horse, here, I haven't done anything bad. Except flirt. And I didn't even start it. So I ain't no adultery-accomplice. My imagination is blowing this way out of proportion. I just need to keep things in perspective.
Remember yesterday's event that I neglected to mention? Well, here it is. Yesterday, Chauncey Billups, 3 time All-Star point guard of my Detroit Pistons, was at the mall answering questions and signing stuff. I didn't wait in the long-ass line because I didn't want to say anything dumb, but I surely took pictures of his sexy self (oh, yes, that stride and that deep voice is sexy on and off the court), which I will post when I get back to school; I stupidly left my connecting cord at school. As we watched, all I could think was, "Oh, my God he's fine. I have to marry an athlete."
Hell, I'd take Chauncey himself were it not for his wife and two adorable daughters. Not to mention, we're on a championship run, and it would be me against a whole city of supporters. And even I'm not that big a homewrecker to put my team in jeopardy...
Spent the whole day in the hair salon today. Whew. At least my hair looks nice. There was this lady there who worked out a lot and ended up having to get a relaxer and a haircut. It was soooo cute! It was a maturer woman's version of Rihanna's cut. And we know that anything related to RiRi is okay with me.
At Border's, I found a black historical romance novel--a rarity. I think I had an embarrassingly loud and happy reaction and, duh, bought it on the spot. The happiness continued when I went to Ulta today and got my nail polish (yay). Black Cherry Chutney here I come. The downside is that the suburban strip mall is hellacious to navigate, what with those soccer moms in their minivans driving like it's coupon day at Kroger's or something; I got honked at--twice! I did have a mini freak-out when I saw this attractive black couple strolling hand-in-hand; they were so cute! All I could do was sigh (scream) "Black love!" to my windshield.
This Taken Boy situation is getting a little sticky. How much of a microcosm is any action committed through Facebook, though? I mean, a general rule of thumb is that nothing's 100% official until it appears in your news feed, but then again, it is only Facebook, not the law. Or is it? And irony of all ironies, but the subject of Oprah today was the proverbial "other woman;" women who had or have had affairs (some were ongoing) with married men. I discreetly hung my head in shame as the guest psychologist read homewreckers everywhere for filth. But wait. We're putting the cart before the horse, here, I haven't done anything bad. Except flirt. And I didn't even start it. So I ain't no adultery-accomplice. My imagination is blowing this way out of proportion. I just need to keep things in perspective.
Remember yesterday's event that I neglected to mention? Well, here it is. Yesterday, Chauncey Billups, 3 time All-Star point guard of my Detroit Pistons, was at the mall answering questions and signing stuff. I didn't wait in the long-ass line because I didn't want to say anything dumb, but I surely took pictures of his sexy self (oh, yes, that stride and that deep voice is sexy on and off the court), which I will post when I get back to school; I stupidly left my connecting cord at school. As we watched, all I could think was, "Oh, my God he's fine. I have to marry an athlete."
Hell, I'd take Chauncey himself were it not for his wife and two adorable daughters. Not to mention, we're on a championship run, and it would be me against a whole city of supporters. And even I'm not that big a homewrecker to put my team in jeopardy...
Thursday, March 13, 2008
What Do You Believe In?
Today was rather eventful. I'll tell y'all about it later. First, read about these t-shirts.
Awhile ago, I ran across this website that lets you put an "I Believe" statement on a t-shirt and gives the money to the charity of your choice. At the risk of sounding maudlin, I've been thinking about concepts like purpose, accountability, self, and ways to save the environment :) lately, and I've decided that I really want a t-shirt, even if it is $35. Problem is, I don't know what to put on it; I have so many beliefs to choose from! For example, I believe:
-that most people are inherently good
-in the restorative power of laughter and good music
-that professional athletes have more heart than people give them credit for
-in different strokes for different folks
-that Crocs don't look good on anyone
-that every NFL team should play each other every season
-that dogs are almost as good as boyfriends
-in turning off the light when you leave a room
-in the 5-second rule
-in brightly-colored toenails
-that Michael Jackson is the greatest artist of all time
-in the intimacy and comfort of a bear hug
-that rudeness never gets anyone anywhere
-in having odd tastes in food
-that high-fives are underrated
-in believing
-in songs that make you cry
That's just my starting list. What do you believe in?
Awhile ago, I ran across this website that lets you put an "I Believe" statement on a t-shirt and gives the money to the charity of your choice. At the risk of sounding maudlin, I've been thinking about concepts like purpose, accountability, self, and ways to save the environment :) lately, and I've decided that I really want a t-shirt, even if it is $35. Problem is, I don't know what to put on it; I have so many beliefs to choose from! For example, I believe:
-that most people are inherently good
-in the restorative power of laughter and good music
-that professional athletes have more heart than people give them credit for
-in different strokes for different folks
-that Crocs don't look good on anyone
-that every NFL team should play each other every season
-that dogs are almost as good as boyfriends
-in turning off the light when you leave a room
-in the 5-second rule
-in brightly-colored toenails
-that Michael Jackson is the greatest artist of all time
-in the intimacy and comfort of a bear hug
-that rudeness never gets anyone anywhere
-in having odd tastes in food
-that high-fives are underrated
-in believing
-in songs that make you cry
That's just my starting list. What do you believe in?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Unleash your inner [insert animal here]
(I had to take this song down, at least until I can get it stop playing automatically. It was driving me crazy, sorry!)
Update: here it is almost a year late. I am nothing if not thorough :)
This song is called "It's Not that Easy" by Lemar. I stumbled across it in my catatonic, post-McDonald's stupor as I surf the web and watch the Pistons play. I dig it. I also have to do some detective work and figure out what the song is I heard on the radio today; I think it's called "She Got It" by T-Pain. It had a nice lil' beat to bump to, so I hope I find it soon. Speaking of great music, I contacted a guy who was supposed to email these acoustic Amy Winehouse tracks and so far, he's only sent one. I really want him to come through, at least enough to send "Valerie" before he calls it quits. But we know I'm impatient; he did warn me that it would take awhile.
I haven't been feeling good lately. Physically I'm okay, I guess, but something just ain't right. I get like that sometimes where I feel a little off-kilter. This is going to sound so odd, but bear with me: I don't feel sexy. I know, right? There's precious little in my life, generally speaking, that would make me feel all goddess-like, but lately I've been feeling less than sexy. Maybe by "sexy" I mean passionate or in-tune or with awakened senses, not necessarily that I feel ugly or fat or anything (although I did try on some shorts and whoo, boy, I need to get back in the gym). Maybe it's because I'm not around any guys or anything but instead am stuck at my house, that certainly would kill any kind of sexy. But whatever the reason, this constantly thrumming unease leaves me, well, uneasy. Hopefully it will change once I return to school, even though I don't want my "inner sexy," if you will, to be determined by what city I'm in. Hence the term, "inner."
Back in Atlanta, Sistah Girl, Top Chef, and co. are supposed to be having a barbecue. I hope it was fun and the weather was nice; there's nothing but snow here.
During Little Sister's orchestra concert, all I could think about was the OPI nail polish color that I have been desperately craving. It's called "Black Cherry Chutney" from the Spring 2008 line, the India Collection. I want it so bad, even though I'm broke. I thought about that and clothes and stuff; when the concert was over I felt like my brain had been on a nice little vacation for an hour and a half. Plus I had my Ipod on.
Little Cousin was here again today. Almost as well-behaved as he was yesterday, but still a handful. After spending many a break at home alone, he wasn't bad company. However, 9-year-old boys seem to make messes for a living...when he left I praised God himself that I wasn't a mother but a babysitter. Read: temporary, part-time, give the child back to his parent, 19-year old college girl on spring break.
Update: here it is almost a year late. I am nothing if not thorough :)
This song is called "It's Not that Easy" by Lemar. I stumbled across it in my catatonic, post-McDonald's stupor as I surf the web and watch the Pistons play. I dig it. I also have to do some detective work and figure out what the song is I heard on the radio today; I think it's called "She Got It" by T-Pain. It had a nice lil' beat to bump to, so I hope I find it soon. Speaking of great music, I contacted a guy who was supposed to email these acoustic Amy Winehouse tracks and so far, he's only sent one. I really want him to come through, at least enough to send "Valerie" before he calls it quits. But we know I'm impatient; he did warn me that it would take awhile.
I haven't been feeling good lately. Physically I'm okay, I guess, but something just ain't right. I get like that sometimes where I feel a little off-kilter. This is going to sound so odd, but bear with me: I don't feel sexy. I know, right? There's precious little in my life, generally speaking, that would make me feel all goddess-like, but lately I've been feeling less than sexy. Maybe by "sexy" I mean passionate or in-tune or with awakened senses, not necessarily that I feel ugly or fat or anything (although I did try on some shorts and whoo, boy, I need to get back in the gym). Maybe it's because I'm not around any guys or anything but instead am stuck at my house, that certainly would kill any kind of sexy. But whatever the reason, this constantly thrumming unease leaves me, well, uneasy. Hopefully it will change once I return to school, even though I don't want my "inner sexy," if you will, to be determined by what city I'm in. Hence the term, "inner."
Back in Atlanta, Sistah Girl, Top Chef, and co. are supposed to be having a barbecue. I hope it was fun and the weather was nice; there's nothing but snow here.
During Little Sister's orchestra concert, all I could think about was the OPI nail polish color that I have been desperately craving. It's called "Black Cherry Chutney" from the Spring 2008 line, the India Collection. I want it so bad, even though I'm broke. I thought about that and clothes and stuff; when the concert was over I felt like my brain had been on a nice little vacation for an hour and a half. Plus I had my Ipod on.
Little Cousin was here again today. Almost as well-behaved as he was yesterday, but still a handful. After spending many a break at home alone, he wasn't bad company. However, 9-year-old boys seem to make messes for a living...when he left I praised God himself that I wasn't a mother but a babysitter. Read: temporary, part-time, give the child back to his parent, 19-year old college girl on spring break.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I Should Come Up with Better Titles
Maybe it's sleep deprivation; I couldn't sleep last night. Whilst getting up to get a 4:30am snack, I stepped in doggy pee, so I had to clean that up before I could grab some saltines and some Girl Scout cookies...After that, I still couldn't catch any zzz's, so I read a little Eric Jerome Dickey ("Friends and Lovers"; it's not as good as "Milk in My Coffee" but we'll see) and listened to my Ipod. Was woken up by Middle Sister ironing her clothes at about 7am, then by Little Cousin standing over me, petting Precious the dog, scaring the hell out of me. He cackled as I remembered that I was on babysitting duty. That's the only reason I'm up before noon (or, okay, 3) when on Spring Break. He's in the other room watching "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" and munching on popcorn. Thank God this is a paid gig. I mean, he's family so I'd do it for free, but having a little shopping money is always a plus.
Ugh, one thing I hate about being home in the daytime is fielding calls from telemarketers, I mean, phone survey distribution managers. I used to work as one, so I feel their pain. Still, they are annoying. At least I was a real person, not a stupid machine.
Friday night is still on my brain. That's probably what kept me up last night, trying to fill in the gaps. Also, I couldn't decide whether or not, if this was Tree Hill, I was Peyton, who everyone roots for, and for all intents and purposes, deserves the taken boy, or Carrie, who is nothing more than the homewrecking nanny.
See? They are meant to be together even though he has a girlfriend.
Them two? Not so much. She really is the other woman.
See? Everything ain't so clear cut. And if you think it's silly to compare this to a TV show, well, there are no definite rules when it comes to relationships anyway. Some people ask their friends, some ask experts, I choose to refer to the CW.
Moving on, hopefully I can go shopping soon. I've already compiled lists of what I want from Forever 21, Old Navy, and Target. ON is going out of business, y'all. Sadder words have seldom been spoken, I freakin' love Old Navy. We know what this means though: SALE!!! I really want these cargo shorts, a cute tank, a pair of shoes, and a tote bag from there. I promise I will post pictures soon, along with yet another song leaked from Usher's upcoming album, a ballad (yay!) called "I Can't Win," written by Ne-yo. That Ne-yo can write the mess out of some songs; he is, after all, the mastermind behind the wonderful "Irreplaceable," performed by none other than Beyonce herself.
Again, another thing about being up during early afternoon is that there's nothing to do (read: there's nothing on TV, I left my DVDs at school, have no car and a 9-year-old to babysit). This is why I stay in bed until General Hospital comes on.
Ugh, one thing I hate about being home in the daytime is fielding calls from telemarketers, I mean, phone survey distribution managers. I used to work as one, so I feel their pain. Still, they are annoying. At least I was a real person, not a stupid machine.
Friday night is still on my brain. That's probably what kept me up last night, trying to fill in the gaps. Also, I couldn't decide whether or not, if this was Tree Hill, I was Peyton, who everyone roots for, and for all intents and purposes, deserves the taken boy, or Carrie, who is nothing more than the homewrecking nanny.
See? They are meant to be together even though he has a girlfriend.
Them two? Not so much. She really is the other woman.
See? Everything ain't so clear cut. And if you think it's silly to compare this to a TV show, well, there are no definite rules when it comes to relationships anyway. Some people ask their friends, some ask experts, I choose to refer to the CW.
Moving on, hopefully I can go shopping soon. I've already compiled lists of what I want from Forever 21, Old Navy, and Target. ON is going out of business, y'all. Sadder words have seldom been spoken, I freakin' love Old Navy. We know what this means though: SALE!!! I really want these cargo shorts, a cute tank, a pair of shoes, and a tote bag from there. I promise I will post pictures soon, along with yet another song leaked from Usher's upcoming album, a ballad (yay!) called "I Can't Win," written by Ne-yo. That Ne-yo can write the mess out of some songs; he is, after all, the mastermind behind the wonderful "Irreplaceable," performed by none other than Beyonce herself.
Again, another thing about being up during early afternoon is that there's nothing to do (read: there's nothing on TV, I left my DVDs at school, have no car and a 9-year-old to babysit). This is why I stay in bed until General Hospital comes on.
Monday, March 10, 2008
My First Love
Songs I'm Really Vibing to Right Now:
-"Touch My Body" by Mariah Carey
I usually don't care for Mimi's first singles (that first one off of Emancipation annoyed the hell out of me). But this one is kind of cute.
-"Paris, Tokyo" and "Hi-Definition" by Lupe Fiasco
Both of these tracks are fierce, for lack of better word. Lupe's kind of new to me, but since I'm on a bright colors, bump-to-it kick, these songs fit perfectly.
"In This Club" by Usher ft. Yung Joc
Usher's albums are hot-fire. It's a fact. I love how solid his stuff is. This song's no different; I like the techno vibe mixed with his silky, bedroom/sex-song voice. I hope the rest of "Here I Stand" is this good.
-"Valerie" by the Zutons (Amy Winehouse cover)
Anyone who knows me knows that I am forever on YouTube listening to my girl Amy sing the mess out of this song.
"Take You Down" and "You" by Chris Brown
Again, I have such a problem with lead singles. I listened to W2W long enough to know that I didn't like it. Matter of fact, the CB songs that I dig the most haven't been released as singles yet. "TYD" is sexier, I think, than younger CB fans are used to, but for us "older" ones it's hot without being raunchy. "You" is catchy; it's much like his other stuff but has an original feel to it. I like this maturer Chris, and I hope that he keeps it up.
Hopefully I can figure out how to post these songs, I gotta share them with everybody.
-"Touch My Body" by Mariah Carey
I usually don't care for Mimi's first singles (that first one off of Emancipation annoyed the hell out of me). But this one is kind of cute.
-"Paris, Tokyo" and "Hi-Definition" by Lupe Fiasco
Both of these tracks are fierce, for lack of better word. Lupe's kind of new to me, but since I'm on a bright colors, bump-to-it kick, these songs fit perfectly.
"In This Club" by Usher ft. Yung Joc
Usher's albums are hot-fire. It's a fact. I love how solid his stuff is. This song's no different; I like the techno vibe mixed with his silky, bedroom/sex-song voice. I hope the rest of "Here I Stand" is this good.
-"Valerie" by the Zutons (Amy Winehouse cover)
Anyone who knows me knows that I am forever on YouTube listening to my girl Amy sing the mess out of this song.
"Take You Down" and "You" by Chris Brown
Again, I have such a problem with lead singles. I listened to W2W long enough to know that I didn't like it. Matter of fact, the CB songs that I dig the most haven't been released as singles yet. "TYD" is sexier, I think, than younger CB fans are used to, but for us "older" ones it's hot without being raunchy. "You" is catchy; it's much like his other stuff but has an original feel to it. I like this maturer Chris, and I hope that he keeps it up.
Hopefully I can figure out how to post these songs, I gotta share them with everybody.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Should I Issue a Retraction?
A syllogism of sorts:
-Tequila: $5 apiece
-New lipgloss to replace the one I lost: $7.50+tax
-Flirting all night long and funny-ass memories: priceless
I should say alleged flirting. But what I remember of our conversations could, arguably, fall into the flirtatious category. If necessary, however, comments can easily be attributed to drunkenness. I told Bestest Friend about my debaucheries, and she was quite amused. She did strongly advise me to not become the "other woman." I said that I have no intentions of doing anything of the sort. Honest to goodness. If this were a movie, I wonder if I'd be the "slutateous man-stealer" or the "one he belongs with despite the girlfriend." I thought about it long and hard on the plane ride home. That's right, folks, I'm home where I belong, watching the Pistons beat the Chicago Bulls. Bonus: Tayshaun Prince got blood on his jersey and had to take it off. Yum. Anywhoo, allow me to recap Friday once and (almost) for all:
-danced to "Get Me Bodied," "Take You Down," and various T-Pain songs
-fell/slithered to the ground
-flirted a bit (if you want to call it that) with Taken Boy
-apologized for my intoxication and for aforementioned flirting
-danced more (very risque I think)
-talked (loudly) and sang (even louder)
-got held very tightly (by TB, I'm afraid) as we left the building so that I wouldn't cause a commotion
-sang Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" to Roommate
-apologized again by writing a note on the dry-erase board (the marker, I later discovered, was permanent. The writing's still there)
-took Advil, drank water, and fell asleep
-woke up laughing and a little mortified
-was informed by Top Chef and Taken Boy of my activities; shared a laugh about it
Oh well. Yes, it's a little embarrassing to realize that you were one shot away from giving out lapdances, but at the same time, it's college. It's what you're supposed to do. Frankly, if I had passed four years without an experience of Friday night's ilk, I'd be a little disappointed. That's not to say I'll never drink again, or that I'll get smashed every weekend. It was an experience.
However, now I have to think about this TB situation. It should be open and shut, he's taken. Matter of fact, forget it. No more pretend flirting. But I don't even know when I'm doing it (well, when we're doing it. It takes two to tango). I only realize when I look up and see Top Chef, Sistah Girl, Roommate, and Motown Lover smirking and exchanging knowing looks and whatnot (y'all are not slick lol). But it's harmless. It's fun. It's whatever. Oh yeah, it didn't help when, the next afternoon, TB came out to get his laundry wearing a wifebeater. That was just rude.
I could go on and on, but for some reason I've been hit with a wave of paranoia about this blog somehow being used as evidence against me. I mean, I don't think I've really written anything bad about anyone, the worst probably being myself and my own inner nonsense. But still, we can't have a Harriet the Spy situation on our hands. My biggest fear, far-fetched as it is, is that someone like the Runner, or hell, TB himself will stumble all this ridiculousness that I wrote about them. How scary...oh, heaven forbid! There's not enough tequila in Mexico to deal with THAT.
-Tequila: $5 apiece
-New lipgloss to replace the one I lost: $7.50+tax
-Flirting all night long and funny-ass memories: priceless
I should say alleged flirting. But what I remember of our conversations could, arguably, fall into the flirtatious category. If necessary, however, comments can easily be attributed to drunkenness. I told Bestest Friend about my debaucheries, and she was quite amused. She did strongly advise me to not become the "other woman." I said that I have no intentions of doing anything of the sort. Honest to goodness. If this were a movie, I wonder if I'd be the "slutateous man-stealer" or the "one he belongs with despite the girlfriend." I thought about it long and hard on the plane ride home. That's right, folks, I'm home where I belong, watching the Pistons beat the Chicago Bulls. Bonus: Tayshaun Prince got blood on his jersey and had to take it off. Yum. Anywhoo, allow me to recap Friday once and (almost) for all:
-danced to "Get Me Bodied," "Take You Down," and various T-Pain songs
-fell/slithered to the ground
-flirted a bit (if you want to call it that) with Taken Boy
-apologized for my intoxication and for aforementioned flirting
-danced more (very risque I think)
-talked (loudly) and sang (even louder)
-got held very tightly (by TB, I'm afraid) as we left the building so that I wouldn't cause a commotion
-sang Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" to Roommate
-apologized again by writing a note on the dry-erase board (the marker, I later discovered, was permanent. The writing's still there)
-took Advil, drank water, and fell asleep
-woke up laughing and a little mortified
-was informed by Top Chef and Taken Boy of my activities; shared a laugh about it
Oh well. Yes, it's a little embarrassing to realize that you were one shot away from giving out lapdances, but at the same time, it's college. It's what you're supposed to do. Frankly, if I had passed four years without an experience of Friday night's ilk, I'd be a little disappointed. That's not to say I'll never drink again, or that I'll get smashed every weekend. It was an experience.
However, now I have to think about this TB situation. It should be open and shut, he's taken. Matter of fact, forget it. No more pretend flirting. But I don't even know when I'm doing it (well, when we're doing it. It takes two to tango). I only realize when I look up and see Top Chef, Sistah Girl, Roommate, and Motown Lover smirking and exchanging knowing looks and whatnot (y'all are not slick lol). But it's harmless. It's fun. It's whatever. Oh yeah, it didn't help when, the next afternoon, TB came out to get his laundry wearing a wifebeater. That was just rude.
I could go on and on, but for some reason I've been hit with a wave of paranoia about this blog somehow being used as evidence against me. I mean, I don't think I've really written anything bad about anyone, the worst probably being myself and my own inner nonsense. But still, we can't have a Harriet the Spy situation on our hands. My biggest fear, far-fetched as it is, is that someone like the Runner, or hell, TB himself will stumble all this ridiculousness that I wrote about them. How scary...oh, heaven forbid! There's not enough tequila in Mexico to deal with THAT.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
The Morning After-Recap
Wow. Last night was, wow. My pal Jose (as in Cuervo) and I went through a lot last night.
I'm writing this alone in Top Chef's apartment (I told you it was a good name) and Taken Boy could pop in at any moment. Matter of fact, I'm going to blog about last night later, because slip-ups like these are how people's business gets out there. By not destroying the evidence. So until I'm in a safe zone, au revoir.
I'm writing this alone in Top Chef's apartment (I told you it was a good name) and Taken Boy could pop in at any moment. Matter of fact, I'm going to blog about last night later, because slip-ups like these are how people's business gets out there. By not destroying the evidence. So until I'm in a safe zone, au revoir.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Hee Hee Hooooo
Damn...I'm watching the Gauntlet on MTV, I forget how much I love this show.
Chile, I'm worn out. The weekend was crazy: We ate at Steak and Ale and our waitress was, I'm sorry to say, a complete and utter bitch. And her 40 year old busboy co-worker was an a--hole who threatened to call the police on us. It was a show, honey. But then we did karaoke and that was funny.
Whoo! Katie is a little beast.
Anywhoo, today was cool as far as my like, two classes, but after classes is when things got bumpy. Random boy stuff, and plus the Pistons lost a heartbreaker (Sidenote: Coral is a G, eff her teammates that's what they get for throwing the mission). Well, actually, that was it, I guess today wasn't that bad. Okay, then, let's move on to the highlight of my week thus far:
...............................Oh, my God, my Chris-Rihanna pictures aren't workiiiinnngggg!! What do I do, Murray!?!?! I NEED my pictures, this is a complete and UTTER disaster!!!
Sorry about that. Freak-out over. Guess I'll just have to double-post tomorrow, then. Crisis averted.
In other news, I need to study for my Renaissance Lit midterm and figure out something to write for my Basic Newswriting class article. I turned in my Shakespeare paper, and I actually think I did well on it. Think being the operative word.
Okay, before I tell you this, just be warned that I know how it's going to sound. When I tell you that I have a little crush on a boy with a real girlfriend (who, sorry to say, lacks a smidge in the looks department--again, sorry), I know that my impure thoughts about him fall into the potential-homewrecker category. Just in case you're wondering. I know, okay?
At least tomorrow I have no classes. Ugh, and a Paper meeting. Ordinarily I wouldn't mind, but Annoying PR Girl #1 bothered me to no end at the last meeting. For real. I wanted to slap her.
Words I am sick of hearing:
-"primary"
-"[insert candidate here] won [insert state here]"
-"change" or "experience"
-"foreign policy"
-"spring break" (because I haven't made any plans yet)
-"my boyfriend" (because I don't have one)
-"bitch" (it's overused; I myself am guilty)
I painted my again nails today. Say hello to a bright, happy coral, compliments of my beloved Sephora. I should've stayed with them instead of trying OPI. Luscious as their colors may be, the formula has an annoying tendency to chip too soon to appropriate the high-end price. Just thought I'd share the benefit of my expertise.
I just had another thought about Off-Limits Boy. But I really am sorry. Honestly and truly.
Chile, I'm worn out. The weekend was crazy: We ate at Steak and Ale and our waitress was, I'm sorry to say, a complete and utter bitch. And her 40 year old busboy co-worker was an a--hole who threatened to call the police on us. It was a show, honey. But then we did karaoke and that was funny.
Whoo! Katie is a little beast.
Anywhoo, today was cool as far as my like, two classes, but after classes is when things got bumpy. Random boy stuff, and plus the Pistons lost a heartbreaker (Sidenote: Coral is a G, eff her teammates that's what they get for throwing the mission). Well, actually, that was it, I guess today wasn't that bad. Okay, then, let's move on to the highlight of my week thus far:
...............................Oh, my God, my Chris-Rihanna pictures aren't workiiiinnngggg!! What do I do, Murray!?!?! I NEED my pictures, this is a complete and UTTER disaster!!!
Sorry about that. Freak-out over. Guess I'll just have to double-post tomorrow, then. Crisis averted.
In other news, I need to study for my Renaissance Lit midterm and figure out something to write for my Basic Newswriting class article. I turned in my Shakespeare paper, and I actually think I did well on it. Think being the operative word.
Okay, before I tell you this, just be warned that I know how it's going to sound. When I tell you that I have a little crush on a boy with a real girlfriend (who, sorry to say, lacks a smidge in the looks department--again, sorry), I know that my impure thoughts about him fall into the potential-homewrecker category. Just in case you're wondering. I know, okay?
At least tomorrow I have no classes. Ugh, and a Paper meeting. Ordinarily I wouldn't mind, but Annoying PR Girl #1 bothered me to no end at the last meeting. For real. I wanted to slap her.
Words I am sick of hearing:
-"primary"
-"[insert candidate here] won [insert state here]"
-"change" or "experience"
-"foreign policy"
-"spring break" (because I haven't made any plans yet)
-"my boyfriend" (because I don't have one)
-"bitch" (it's overused; I myself am guilty)
I painted my again nails today. Say hello to a bright, happy coral, compliments of my beloved Sephora. I should've stayed with them instead of trying OPI. Luscious as their colors may be, the formula has an annoying tendency to chip too soon to appropriate the high-end price. Just thought I'd share the benefit of my expertise.
I just had another thought about Off-Limits Boy. But I really am sorry. Honestly and truly.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Before I Pass Out...
Real quick so I can go to bed to wake up and visit the soup kitchen tomorrow..
I had to cover a ceremony for The Paper. It was a lot of schmoozing and "can I ask you a few questions about..." nonsense. For this shy girl, it was literally like walking into hell, I kid you not. It turned out to be okay, but after I got my quotes I decided to take a well-deserved break and post up in a corner. I was made, I decided, to sulk artfully with a drink in my hand and watch a crowd. But as I walked home, swag bag in hand (thanks, Nike!), I wondered if I wasn't destined to be the single-girl cliche, the one who gets to attend fancy parties but goes home with blisters on her feet and to nothing but the television waiting up for her.
How could I forget? Tex is surely in town, y'all. I know. I hit the panic button when I saw him and basically walked right past him. It just wasn't the right time; the wrong people, the wrong place, etc. But it sucks because I probably won't ever see him again. And I was looking cute so if he did see me, that's a plus. But then he could just not care, because him not caring was the problem in the first place. I can't believe it. It's happening again. That boy is my kryptonite. I hate that he still can reduce me to a blathering idiot. And I hate even more that I had to see him from afar, as if the last 8 months of growing that I did in his absence never happened. I was just the girl who liked the boy who didn't like her back, once again. And that's a rotten feeling the first time around, as well as, I now know, the second. BFF wasn't any help when I called her with the dirt.
"Yeah, you should have said something," she kept saying. "It's all you, honey."
Wtf? I wanted to yell. What does that even mean? Not the cheer-up I needed. Sigh. DAMMIT... Well, now, hold on a minute. It's times like these that you must ask yourself, "Why did God do this?" And you have to be mature enough to know that the answer is not, "To torture me."
When people cause you so much worry, it must be because you care about them so much. Being caught in the middle of your two closest friends is, for the record, a horrible place to be in. I've grown numb to the tension. I want everything to be okay.
Last but not least, a little something to cheer myself up after days that just don't seem to be going right:
Yum-o.
(hoodsworld.com)
They can Ba-rack my boat, er, vote, anytime...
I had to cover a ceremony for The Paper. It was a lot of schmoozing and "can I ask you a few questions about..." nonsense. For this shy girl, it was literally like walking into hell, I kid you not. It turned out to be okay, but after I got my quotes I decided to take a well-deserved break and post up in a corner. I was made, I decided, to sulk artfully with a drink in my hand and watch a crowd. But as I walked home, swag bag in hand (thanks, Nike!), I wondered if I wasn't destined to be the single-girl cliche, the one who gets to attend fancy parties but goes home with blisters on her feet and to nothing but the television waiting up for her.
How could I forget? Tex is surely in town, y'all. I know. I hit the panic button when I saw him and basically walked right past him. It just wasn't the right time; the wrong people, the wrong place, etc. But it sucks because I probably won't ever see him again. And I was looking cute so if he did see me, that's a plus. But then he could just not care, because him not caring was the problem in the first place. I can't believe it. It's happening again. That boy is my kryptonite. I hate that he still can reduce me to a blathering idiot. And I hate even more that I had to see him from afar, as if the last 8 months of growing that I did in his absence never happened. I was just the girl who liked the boy who didn't like her back, once again. And that's a rotten feeling the first time around, as well as, I now know, the second. BFF wasn't any help when I called her with the dirt.
"Yeah, you should have said something," she kept saying. "It's all you, honey."
Wtf? I wanted to yell. What does that even mean? Not the cheer-up I needed. Sigh. DAMMIT... Well, now, hold on a minute. It's times like these that you must ask yourself, "Why did God do this?" And you have to be mature enough to know that the answer is not, "To torture me."
When people cause you so much worry, it must be because you care about them so much. Being caught in the middle of your two closest friends is, for the record, a horrible place to be in. I've grown numb to the tension. I want everything to be okay.
Last but not least, a little something to cheer myself up after days that just don't seem to be going right:
Yum-o.
(hoodsworld.com)
They can Ba-rack my boat, er, vote, anytime...
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