A Fantastic Journey

Hello World! It’s Friday! Let your weekend commence! Well, not right at this moment, since you’re probably reading this at work, but you know after you work your 8 hours.

So let’s get right to it. Last week I went to a cookout and found myself surrounded by people I had gone to high school with. It was fun, don’t get me wrong, I drank, ate, drank, played Bid Whist, talked shit, drank some more…Do we see a theme here?

Anyway.

As I looked around the deck I saw the faces of boys who are now men (corny, I know) but some of them were really MEN, and looking good, but I digress…I looked at these men and remembered them as boys. And I had flashbacks of having crushes on them, flirting with them, being courted by them, spending hours on the phone with them and being kissed by them. I had flashbacks of when I was the business and just like Mr. Kanye West, Kanyeze as I like to call him, you couldn’t tell me nothing! Just ask Mama Rum Punch about that. She has the gray hairs to prove it.

I had flashbacks of driving in my first car with my friends listening to the Miseducation of Lauryn Hill on tape, yes tape, singing the words hard like we really knew what love was all about. I had flashbacks of when I thought I knew it all and then some about boys, love, education, life. Let high school me tell it, I should have been had my shit together by now. I should have a law degree, my own home, a husband (my college sweetheart of course), maybe even a child, depending on how long we had been married, you know because I had it all planned out to have some ‘marriage time’ before our first baby. But let present me tell it, none of those things seem to be in the cards.

So I stood on that deck and remembered high school me (yeah I probably had one drink too many) and thought to myself: what the hell did I know then? About anything? About boys, love, education and life? Not a damn thing, I realized. And what do I know now? About men, love, education and life? You’ll find out…

Welcome to Rum Punch Fridays!

The appeal of Clifford Harris, Jr. (or why girls like dope boys)

Over the weekend I spent some time with my auntie and she got me to thinking…why do girls like dope boys? Context: I’d been catching her up on my life and somehow I let slip that I knew women who had dated guys who had or presently did sell drugs for a living.

Of course, auntie was completely aghast at my revelations. As I sat across from her I became cognizant of my own non-aghastedness (note: I tend to make up words so get used to it). Sadly, the drug-selling boyfriend trope has become a permanent fixture in my mind such that having a relationship with someone who could put you up on some work (and I don’t mean a 9-5) no longer surprises me. Hell, even I had once dated someone who, from time to time, sold a dime bag or two, tho he surely smoked up twice as much as he sold.

But auntie got me to thinking, what is the appeal? Viewing it as an older, wiser 26 yo, I have to wonder, what was/is wrong with us such that we aren't the least bit fazed by bedding down with the neighborhood dope boy? Didn’t our parents raise us to be good lil' middle class BAPS? So then why do some of us gravitate toward the T.I.’s of this world? Note: I've been known to not-so-secretly lust after errr... appreciate the music of T.I. I don’t know what it is....Ok I do I do, I do, I doo-ew hence this post. Thuglove bay bay!

need I say more? mmmm…tasty!

It’s that sexy-as-hell ghetto snare, lookin at you like bring yo ass over here right now! Deep inside is a heart of gold that makes you melt and come with a quickness to anywhere he wants you to be. And ok, it's the money, too. You know the cliché: Every girl wants a bad boy. Yet there in lies the problem -- every girl wants that boy but ladies enough! Once you celebrate your 21st birthday, you gotta grow up and get a grown ass man up-in-through yo situation...let that dope boy go!

I know, I know, I myself used to be drawn to the bad boy but trying to make that thug yo huzband is not the business. He really can't do much more than give you money and dick you down every once in a while. You can't take him round your office collegues, he might show up in girbaud jeans and a long white tee. That might be sexy in private but how do you explain his profession to your White (and Black) work homies? Can you say he got his degree in dopeboyalogy with a straight face?

Seriously tho, it’s so not cute to be sitting up all times a night wondering if he's been shot or locked up. And you can forget about changing him cause he won't easily switch to more legal employment since it don't bring the fast money and he'll probably say it's "lame." So you’re stuck with a dude that can’t fully function in society outside of the crime world, who you can't take nowhere and whose "profession" seriuosly threatens your safety. Ok i'm being slightly dramatic but somewhere in the last 3-5 years, I realized there really is no appeal to to the dobeboy (except the sexiness that is T.I. but Tiny got that on lock & she'll cut a bitch for even looking at her man).

*mint julep wipes away a tear, as she looks around for her regular, grown ass man*

Get on your grind!

Get ready to kick back and take it easy. It's hump-day Wednesday. So, remind folks and inform others that they only have 40-48 hours left to get on your last nerves. Please be advised that you have 2 days left to fix whatever is broken, so, with the remainder of time -- get on your grind.



This month primarily belongs to the Libras. Interesting creatures aren't they? sometimes the scales are balanced and sometimes they are not (shouts out to Big Poppa). . . So, October is here and fall is virtually around the corner. Ahhh. . . inhale the freshness of the autumn eve. No more flip-flops, capris, sandals -- at least not to work folks... Only 3 months remain before the calendar year is over, so are you content with the progress made in 2007? . .

After a quarter-century of living on this earth and the tax mother nature has levied against my body, I have embarked on a new adventure -- working with a personal trainer. I must say my initial warm-up/orientation kicked my a**, although I didn't feel the soreness in the beginning. The next day was murder to my muscles. But, no pain -- no gain, right, at least I hope so. I am impressed by the number of adults that have committed to taking their well-being in their own hands and committing to the gym (kudos). Now at the gym, we all come in all shapes and sizes, but we're all there for the same, rather similar reasons (yeah -- that's a better way to put it). In due time, you'll learn a lil' bit more about me (i.e. my progress made in the gym), but more about what I think. So, stay tuned. . .

Life is all about people and the degree of your relationships-- remember that.

Cheers,

Bellini

It's not money, your momma or the kids...but those cups

Happy Tuesday Ya'll! Monday is over and done with and I know you are beginning to daydream about the weekend ahead. All you have to do now is get through Hump Day and Friday Eve! Just remember that Tuesdays are rubies and special things happen on this day of the week too. After all there is reading about what is going on in my world. And there are two for one pizza specials at Domino's. And...uh. Wow. That's really all that I've got right now. So let me start explaining about the cups.

So my cousin told me that all it takes to save a relationship is cups. Yes, you did read that correctly! Tumblers, stemware and those red plastics are all a person needs to deal with a vengeful woman or a cheating man. It's time to start marching down to stores for cups people. Ladies-you don't have to slash those tires! Fellas-leave those flowers at the florist!

shrek and donkey are off to save relationships

Okay, so I took a little creative liberty with what my cousin was saying. Her message was truly about compromise. Cousin's husband would wash dishes but he put the cups in the wrong place. She would kindly tell him, in a way that only a woman can, that he had put them in the wrong place. He acknowledged her concern. And the next time, you know what he did ya'll? He still put them in the wrong place! Well understandably, she was ready to divorce him. She had her "Free at Last" dance (that oddly resembled a cript walk) ready. But she realized that he wasn't some fanatic lover of dishes, and probably did not enjoy washing them. Ideally, Cousin's husband would have washed, dried and put the cups in the proper place-but alas the world isn't ideal. So she accepted what he was doing, and so since she had a problem with the cups she would move them. Wow right? Now in my mind I wondered how cup retrieval went down in their household, but I dared not ask. I mean if I tell someone the right way (or at least my way) to do something I don't want to have to clean up after them later-what's the point in that? But she's happy with her choice to quell a minor battle about cups. And over a decade later they are still together...

I realize that this was a strange Hi-my name is Amaretto-first-entry but it's whats on a girl's mind this Tuesday afternoon. You'll learn to bare with me. Dealing with others be it at home, work or just on the street can be a real challenge. Let's be selective in the battles we chose to fight.

See You in Seven,

Amaretto

Easin' Down The Road

“I used to wear my hoodie like that (like that)
Pile deep in the hoopty like that (like that)
Now I got black cards, good credit and such
Bae boy, ‘cause I’m all grown up.”

- 30 Something, Jay-Z

Thanks for tuning in. Glad you could join us.
It’s MONDAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!

What? What? Why are folks always hatin on Monday? Monday is the start of the week. Day One. A new beginning. Lots of holidays fall on Monday: MLK Day, President’s Day, Easter Monday, Memorial Day, and Labor Day. Girlfriends and Weeds come on TV on Monday nights. Monday Night Football [need I say more]. On Mondays, kids are pressed to show up at school in whatever hot gear they copped over the weekend. All the ladies who’ve been to the hairdresser come into the office on Monday wit an extra bounce in their step. Brothers with fresh haircuts stroll down the street on Monday afternoon like their name is A Pimp Named Slickback (all my Boondocks fans holla!). You catch my drift. So stop hatin on Mondays. Remember- some weren’t blessed to see today.

Which brings me to my next point. The week must start off with a bang. And a dark & stormy will make that happen baby! Dark (or spiced) rum + ginger beer. Pour over ice and garnish with a slice lime. I like to finish mine off with just a splash of ginger ale. Real smooth and real simple. Now please sip slowly or your dark & stormy Monday may lead to a topsy-turvy Tuesday .

Once upon a time, I could drink all the dark & stormies my heart desired and get up the next morning shuckin and jivin like a cast member of High School Musical. But your girl Stormy is getting a lil’ older. Though I quoted the song 30 Something, I ain’t quite there yet. If thirty’s the new twenty, than I’m barely legal! But I cannot deny that I am getting older. Just a tad…

Here are some of tell-tale signs that this storm is slowly shifting down to a category 4:

• The only club action I get Sunday thru Thursday is at a happy hour. I just tried to defy this rule last week and it wasn’t pretty. I need to at least be en route home by 11 PM instead of ducking some lame dude on the dance floor.


• I look silly shopping in stores like Forever 21, LVL X, and Charlotte Russe. I went in one looking for something quick & cheap to wear to a party one night… I kept asking the salesperson if a top was a dress or if a dress was a top. These youngins need to put some damn clothes on!


• Any man who suggests dining at a chain restaurant for our first (and possibly second and third) date will get stood up. Friday’s, Ruby Tuesday’s, Olive Garden, Cheesecake factory… ugh, so high school. Have a little creativity. I’m too old to be impressed by unlimited breadsticks or cheese biscuits.


• There’s food in my fridge. Period. And I don’t mean TV dinners.


• I remember Bobby and Whitney before they were “Bobby & Whitney”. What you know ‘bout “I’m Your Baby Tonight” or “All the Man I Need”? Classics!


• Weekday booty calls are far & few and definitely contingent upon how early I have to start working the next day. And don’t even think of calling after 10.


• The sight of cute children makes me daydream about the Stormy Jrs. of the future.


• I look forward to steppin in the name of love. I loathe crankin that soulja boy and will attempt to trip up whoever tries to superman dat **! Don’t even get me started. We shall re-visit that entire subject on a future Monday.

The list can go on and on but no need to dwell on the past. Some may get depressed while realizing just how fast their youth slips away. Instead of sulking, I am looking forward to the fine brew this darkness shall become. Already quite the potent potable, imagine popping my cork in another 10 years… Oooh wee baby! Look out!

Tumultuously Yours,

Dark & Stormy