Mr. Good Bar

Hey y’all! So last week I provided this article by Lori Gottlieb. I wrote about one aspect of the article – being lonely. And promised to tackle her other point -what some may call “settling,” but what Gottlieb chooses to call, “choosing Mr. Good Enough.” Yes, as opposed to holding out and waiting for THE ONE!

While I didn’t go purchase the book, so I don’t have all the details – I understood right away what she was trying to say. Get that ‘perfect man, Mr. Right vision’ out of your head and come back to reality. And I knew all week exactly what I was going to say in this here post.

And then yesterday someone sent me this article about a Black woman, Karyn Langhorne Folan, who has married a white man, written a book titled, Don't Bring Home a White Boy: And Other Notions That Keep Black Women From Dating Out, and is now encouraging us Black women to expand our minds and date outside our race. Thanks, lady. Where would I be without you? Since there’s an abundance of available white men in the DC metro, with your great advice, I will be Mrs. Rum Punch in a year! Huzzah!

Siiiiiggghhh.

Look, I get it. People have ideas. That’s why I come here and share my thoughts once a week. It’s what keeps people tied to twitter. It’s why people pick up the pen or the laptop and write pages upon pages of what will someday become a book. And I’m not saying that these ideas have no merit or value. I’m just saying that at some point, don’t we have to be gosh darn individuals and figure things out for our own lives? Cause what worked for Michelle O, or Hillary Clinton even, or Alma Powell, or your sister, or your homegirl, or that chick who works on the fifth floor, or your momma, may not work for you. Or me.

And who am I? And what do I want? And what do I need? What can I handle? What do I desire? Ok, but what is realistic? And what is my ultimate goal? These are crucial questions that everyone must ask him/herself when looking for a mate. Or a house. Or a vacation. Or a car. Or a puppy. Or a stock broker. Or a new hairdresser. Or a job. Etcetera, etcetera. But let’s focus on a mate.

The elusive person you’re supposed to be with. Apparently this is where us women need the most help. Especially us Black women, with our high standards and our superficiality. This is when people shove books, news segments, 'Mama I Want a Huzband' musicals, and the Good Book in our faces and say that we need to – try the blue collar brotha, the white man, the Asian doctor who’ll also cook for you, the short guy, the chunky one, the widower, the old man, and so on.

Very rarely, does anyone just give it to you straight, unless you’re Dark and Stormy’s mama of course (ha this like D&S’s third shout out – she’s gonna be mad at me) and tell you very simply to find someone who’s good for you. And then leaves you standing there literally and figuratively to figure out what that means for you. Thus forcing you to figure out who you are and what you need.

Timeout!
Y'all it never ceases to amaze me that when I watch Wife Swap how many "crazy" couples are out in this world. There'll be a wife who is a practicing witch. Or one who runs the house like a drill Sargent. Or a wife who has decided to say f-convention and be an acrobatic/clown. Or who insists on living in a trailer because she's afraid of houses. Or a wife who demands breakfast in bed every morning and her feet kissed at night. And I'll be like that lady is insane! And yet there she is part of a two, having found someone who could live with alladat, who is seemingly getting their needs and desires met, who considers those to be "quirks" that make her special while the rest of the world may see them as crazy. These women found someone good for them. And them alone. Even though it often leaves me and I'm sure a majority of viewers baffled at how she did it. Lol.
Time in!

Because as a woman who’s pushing 30, with all these old church ladies tellin’ me I got time, on the flip side of that some of 'em seem to think picking my- emphasis on my- mate is like being blindfolded and playing a game of pin the tail on the donkey and it doesn't matter if I'm nowhere close to the tail, saying things like, "well such and such is nice...” Ok ma, and? But is he nice for me? Is he good for me? Will he be good to me? I’ve dated a variety of men – some were quite handsome, some short, some razzle dazzled me, some chubby, some professional, some not, some funny, some dull, some assholes, some kind - overall, on the surface, seemed to be decent guys.

But not good for me because – they lied, we didn’t share the same values, they weren’t supportive of my dreams and aspirations, they were looking for a Stepford wife, we didn’t speak the same love language, they lacked ambition, we had different views on family and rearing children, we lacked proper communication, and so on.

Ahhhh... But to get to the good - one must strip away all the bullshyt - both yours and your potential mate's. Re-evaluate. Prioritize. And then work to uncover the best. Ooo didn't that sound good and profound? Y'all be on the lookout for my new book - A Good, Better, Best You: Finding Someone to Mate Your Life With. Available on Amazon, disappearing bookstores everywhere, and at half price with your next Tyler Perry movie ticket.

That’s my time y’all! Happy Rum Punch Friday!

A Golden Rule

So it’s a new year (yay!) but I still work the same ole job with the same ole work drama (boo-but grateful). I sit in my cube wondering how people can work for the same company for 30 plus years because I don’t think I have the endurance or the patience to make it that long. We are sending these people off with cakes and retirement balloons-but really we should be erecting statues honoring the fact that these people haven’t inflicted bodily harm in all their years of working!

Sorry folks this is going to be another work inspired post! Lucky you…

So yeah one of the areas that I need to work on is patience. I feel like I just need to grow there because not everyone has an Amaretto state of mind and I need to really accept and understand that. Oh but why do people drive you to cuss them out and/or kill them just for the stupid things they say or do?* At one point I was going to state the it’s older white people who drive one (specifically me) to brink but really in 2010 I am going to let my negro dialect go…and just say all people can pluck the last nerve.

So let me share how I have already been plucked and we are only 12 days into the new year! Last week my immediate supervisor was going to use the word “Irregardless” in correspondence to someone outside of our department to which I told him not to use it because that wasn’t a word. Well don’t you know that this man looked up irregardless in Webster’s dictionary and called me later in the day to tell me that it was in fact a word and I could look it up online. Then he went on to tell me that there are other “ir” words like “irregular”. Sigh. Are you serious?! I wasn’t disputing the existence of “ir” words but irregardless wasn’t a word that I thought was recognized. Never attempt to tell an older white man (oops I wasn’t suppose to be making this about race). So never attempt to tell this particular man he was wrong because he will fight to the death to prove himself correct! Nevermind that within Webster’s own definition of the word they state to use “regardless” instead. He didn’t see or acknowledge that part of the definition, just like Columbus didn’t see the communities of Native Americans on the land that he just discovered.

I grew in patience that day because he’s still living and breathing, I still have my job and as you can see I did as instructed and looked up the definition of irregardless online!

But then today a coworker tried to tell me that they weren’t using their government issued travel card to obtain cash advances. Did this coworker not understand that part of my job requires that I look at their statements so I can see everything that they are and are not doing? Their response was that they accidentally used their government card, because they thought it was their own. Sigh. When will people get original?! I guess because I am young and black then my birthday must have been January 11th 2010. But again, I guess this person didn’t know that I can see each time they used their card for personal hotel stays or for when they took cash advances for $200 from their neighborhood Wawa dating back to September. But really you want me to believe that this was a one time error? I know that times are hard, but don’t be insulting to my intelligence. You have been caught stealing and it’s because of me that your manager doesn’t know about it. I feel like someone should be licking my boots...or giving me a gift card to Target or something!

Sigh…and I wonder if someone would be as lenient with me as I was with them. I doubt it.

Despite the two notable bumps in the road to Amaretto Jenkins being and becoming a better person (because trust me their have been other incidents in this year) I’m still going to try to live by doing unto others as I would have them do unto me. Even when I don’t feel like people deserve my kindness, I know someone has felt the same way about me.

See You In Seven

*Because I am not a bitter or crazy black woman I don't actually think about doing these things to others. And if I do it's all internal discourse...because unlike some black professional women-my coworkers love me!

The Advent Season

Time stops for no one.

Life will always go on...

Even though I know these clichéd truths I feel as I write this post that the close of this year brings a season finale in my life. You remember what it was like to watch your favorite show all year. To get to know the characters and their storylines for months for it all to be concluded in an extra special hour long presentation episode? In this episode things were resolved, folks where happy and in the last few moments a cliffhanger storyline began. As the viewer I just couldn’t wait to watch what the new season would have in store come fall. And it is with similar expectancy that I wonder what is going to happen next…

Before this year began I said that I would be getting mine in oh-nine! I proclaimed this mantra half believing it, but mostly from the frustration about where I was in life. And without ecking out the details or borderline getting my brag on I will state that I feel like this mantra set the stage for me to truly get mine this year. My life is in a total different place now than when everyone was running around worried about Y2K. (Ha ha ha! Computers are like cockroaches!) And I know that we all have been through some thangs, made it over, were tested and tried since 1999 ended-but aren’t we better, stronger, wiser, freer and growner for it? I am just going to speak for ya’ll right here and say Yes we is! Yes we is!

I feel like I have moved beyond several of the challenges that I was faced with in 2000, 2001, 2002, oh heck every year had its share of challenges! But I wonder about the Amaretto I would have become if I didn’t have to move 9 times, didn’t work as a part time teller, didn’t get the diagnosis, never had crippling debt, never had my heart ache or break, never screamed out Fcuk the world don’t ask me for…

But I thank God from the depths of my soul for his infinite wisdom and constant provision. I couldn’t have made it otherwise. I wouldn’t have learned any other way. I couldn’t be able to cope with this thing called life with out knowing, praying and expecting change. And not that Obama kind of change-the real deal! And I will take off my saved and sanctified hat to confess that there were many “Why me, Lord and not them?” moments. If Amaretto Jenkins was allowed to run things I would have chosen an easier breezier course with lots of money and no pain…but I’d probably be a horrible jerky biznat of a person with no friends to keep it real and check me when necessary! I wouldn’t be the woman I am today or the woman I am destined to be in the next decade, and I am not trying to miss out on that!

So during this season of advent I eagerly and not fearfully await what will happen next.

Until next season…Merry Christmas Ya’ll!

See You in the New Year!

The Real World

I am of the opinion that everyone lives in their own world. Not saying that everyone is sitting in a corner, staring off in space, drooling and having sharp objects kept away from them. But I as continue to get my adult on, I realize that perception is reality, and sometimes what is perceived is false!

For a long time I thought that I was a very understanding person. I thought I was the type of person who tried to understand where someone else was coming from. Or what it was like to walk a mile in another person’s shoes. But as you can see from this, where I was more than sure that he was being a racist and nothing else, maybe I am not “very” understanding at all. My perception of his actions became my reality. I doubt that I was wrong (tee hee)…but maybe I was. The fact that in my world, what I perceived was right has now shaped a whole different opinion of this man. From now on, he will be defined by this one conversation that he’s probably forgot about. Meanwhile, I’m in my cube wondering why people still can’t see me as a person and not just a young Black woman.

And my perception of things has affected relationships with friends and family. A friend of mine was once afraid to tell me that they had accidently broken something of mine because they were afraid of my reaction, they perceived that I would not be understanding. For years I thought my dad was a certain type of person because of something he did, not knowing (until 8 years later) the reason why he did it. If only I had known sooner, or at least been aware of what was really going on, then things could totally be different in our relationship now. Yet for years I threw a pity party for myself. For years I harbored anger and resentment, that now I view as just wasted time, wasted emotions.

And how easy it is for us (especially women folk) to get tied up in our world of emotion because of what we think we see. If your boss doesn’t call on you in a meeting then it must mean you are getting fired. If your significant other doesn’t call you at the same time for two days, then they must be seeing someone else. If you don’t get invited to the party then no one in the world likes you. Not saying anything against women’s intuition, but at times all these thoughts and emotions seem just as silly as thinking the coat rack at night is a monster lurking in corner. The reality is the world is not always how you perceive it to be.

See You In Seven

You So Crazy!

The thing about women is that we are wonderfully complex emotional beings. So in a word, we’re AWESOME! But because of our complexities, we are at times one good hormonal imbalance or “Oh no he didn’t” away from yielding all sane and rational thought to the Crazy Chick (CeCe) that lies within. And no matter if a woman is Ms. Independent, educated in the finest halls of academia and can write a good check with a whole bunch or zeroes; or if she’s Ms. Ghetto Fabulous who learned her way through the streets and the system…every woman has a CeCe deep inside her, who can show up and show out when she feels it’s necessary. The annoying part about women folk is that sometimes it isn’t necessary to summon the power of CeCe.

Ladies, please leave CeCe chillin’ deep inside when:

* It’s Sunday after church You’re hungry. You want fried chicken. Popeye’s has run out. Sure it doesn’t make sense that a chicken establishment has run out of chicken, especially since they should have known you were coming for your two piece and a biscuit. But they did. CeCe doesn’t have to come out and tell little Tawanna working the register that she and her whole family are booty scratchers from Africa. That just ain’t necessary ladies. A simple eye roll and head shake will do (resist the temptation to suck your teeth). You can go someplace else and write a letter to the district manager when you get home…you might get a free meal out of it! If CeCe is running things, you’ll probably just get a police escort out of the facility cause little Tawanna has her own CeCe who doesn’t play that!

* After a nice dinner Instead of going to the movies, your man suggests taking a nice walk around the neighborhood. Now true you really wanted to see the latest Tyler Perry flick, but girl stop playing yourself, you know you could lose a pound or two. How long did it take you to button your skin tight apple bottom jeans? And now it hurts when you laugh and breathe. So he ain’t ready for you to get all “What you trying to say Ray-Ray?” on him. You don’t have to talk about his big breasted momma or ask him when his baby is due. Tell CeCe to chill, there’s no reason for you to bust out crying because you think Ray-Ray is calling you a fat-a$$. It’s quality time with your man, stop being insecure and enjoy the physical activity.

* You’re at work Some coworkers are talking about a crime committed in the community that you live and how it’s a shame that those people continue to do that to each other. Now you know that they live in far out west bubble and therefore are not qualified to speak on the subject. Now this is tricky because every CeCe believes in educating the ignorant but because you are in the workplace CeCe is going to have to fall back due to her tendency to raise your voice and cause involuntarily finger snapping and neck rolling. This may scare your coworkers so much that they won’t be able to hear you preach the truth that they don’t know nothing about nothing. Instead, after moving past their audacity you can casually mention that you reside in that neighborhood and there are a lot of good people who live there. Or if you don’t want those mothasuckas in your business, you could just say that crime is spreading all over the place, even in far out west bubble, smile and then walk away.

Now don't get me wrong, there are times when the power of CeCe is necessary! But I feel women as a whole need to just take a moment to breathe before they speak or lodge that brick between their man’s windshield. As my friend said, it annoys her when women, under the guise of keeping it real, lose tact and feel that they have the right to always tell it like it T-I-Tis. Not so ladies, not so. Even when you know in your soul you are right, use your inner CeCe only when necessary. Don’t lose yourself in her power, afterall that heffa is crazy!

See You In Seven

Gone But Not Forgotten

When I was a young Amaretto I swear I had a good memory. Actually, if I recall correctly it was one of the best! Once something got in my head it stayed and took up residence. Never was I one to claim that I had a photographic memory, but I was never a child who forgot her homework. Never was I a child so out of it that I needed my name and address pinned to my coat. So it’s a little unsettling to me, as I become older and wiser that here lately I am forgetting things. And I am not talking oh I forgot to water the plants, or how old Great Aunt Susie will be this year. I’m talking about I am suppose to be someplace at a certain time and there isn’t so much as a nagging feeling that I’m suppose to be doing something... I’m just sitting sipping my sweet tea watching Maury tell another baby daddy…that he in fact is not the father! Does anyone else wonder if folks are going to celebrate Father’s Day in 2020? I'm thinking no. Is it just me?

Hmmmm. What was I writing about? Oh, yeah.

So Rum Punch has long since sworn by her planning calendar. Since I am just getting on the camera phone craze (like as of March ‘08), I have yet to utilize the wonderfulness that are the schedulers that come with the phone. Nor do I see myself carrying around these…though my mom swears by them. I am a single lady with no kids, so what do I need a planner for? There are no music lessons or swim practices I have to get the little ones to after a day at work. I mean straight up, all I am doing right now is hanging out and working. And yet people say “Remember yesterday when…” and well all I can do is stare blankly, because I don’t remember it…at all.

Forgetfulness is just one of the more annoying things about getting older. You come to expect the reduce energy, the gray hairs found in unmentionable places, the “miss” that becomes “ma’am”. But when you really have to think about what you wore to work last week in hopes not to wear the same outfit…there’s a problem. When as a child your favorite game was Memory and you can’t remember where you parked the car, what year it is, or who the President is, there is cause for concern. Not saying that all these things have happened to me-I am here to entertain, but this type of shyt happens like everyday...so some people. I definitely know a Black man is President, and his name ain't Jesse Jackson....right?

It seems that as more stuff goes into my head, so of that other stuff is falling out. I guess that’s just part of the process of getting older. I might just have to eat more fish, tie a string on my finger and start using a planner if I want to remember what is it is exactly that I am suppose to be doing…

See You In Seven

A Filtered Kind of Life

When I was three years old, I told a cashier at Kmart that we were leaving to go to a store with better stuff! My mom likes to share this tale along with other adventures starring me using curse words and telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And usually there is laughter, because afterall kids say the darndest things… But the average adult, who doesn’t have Turrets syndrome, has to filter what they think down to something nice and polite that makes people feel warm, fuzzy and sugary. And sometimes that just sucks!

Now let me tell ya’ll where I’m coming from. I’m coming from a place of working with people at my J-O-B. Rum Punch wrote about this struggle we have with ourselves under our masks at work. And I always joke that on my last day at any job-Imma just let my soul glow and say exactly what I have always been thinking. Yet in my life and times I have resigned from quite a few jobs and never once I have said anything unfiltered.

And it makes me sad that I can’t be that free. You understand that children and the aged have a freedom that us folks left in the middle ages miss and look forward to. And it also makes me hate on people who didn’t get the maturity memo and still tell it like it T I tis! We all have had run ins with those type of teeth sucking, lip smacking and neck rolling people.

*sigh*

If only I could tell my boss that I think she’s a freaking idiot and I know she’s full of bull----! Or just school the coworker who couldn’t figure out how to unjam the printer and asked me how to do it. I’m sorry do I look like the manufacturer? Do I look like an office equipment fixer upper person? I look at Excel spreadsheets with numbers all day. I would have to fiddle and read instructions the same as you would. A Magic negro I am not!

But I can’t say these things. Well out loud anyways. Because somewhere I was taught to be polite, though I don’t remember my parents telling me not to tell adults with coffee breath to back up a few paces, I just know not to do it. Somehow I’ve learned that I have to go along just to get along. To run my thoughts and feelings through a strainer so that the real me doesn’t seep out and make somebody cry and maybe improve themselves.

And though I want to be free, I don’t want someone telling me about myself unfiltered. I don’t want to experience that level of honesty…and that’s the pure truth.

See You In Seven

Rescue Me!

Rescue me
Oh take me in your arms
Rescue me
I want your tender charms
'Coz I'm lonely and I'm blue
I need you and your love too
-Aretha Franklin

Okay, so this just might cause the authorities to come and take my strong independent woman card away but….

I WANT TO BE RESCUED DAMNIT!

I’m talking about me trapped in castle, bored out my mind and a man coming to save me. That’s right a man, on a big ole steed, swinging his saber, speaking with all sorts of “thees” and “thous” because he lived in a kingdom far, far away once upon a time…

Hmmmm. Note to self: I can’t read any fairy tales to my little ones. I mean I can’t contribute to their disappointment when they’re in their late 20s and ole boy ain’t show up and it’s well past CP time. I don’t want my girls becoming that “I don’t need no man, because I have rechargeable batteries” chick. Nor do I want them to end up like me in my extended singleness-just restless in my waiting.

I’m a survivor though. Not that singleness needs to be survived or anything…but I do wonder how many mo dinners with the girls I can endure. I mean I love them, but I also need some positive reinforcement and the occasional fawning session. And well when you and your girls all get dressed and all look cute respectively…none of them are going to get a gleam of pride in their eye seeing you in your freak ‘em dress or DAYUM girl! Shoes. Nope. Everyone just sits at the table, sipping on their drinks listening for the pitter patter of horse feet, waiting, hoping and praying that a prince will soon come to bring about their great escape.

I don’t know if its our impatience, our drinks or just sheer boredom that causes us to hop down with men riding little ponies. I do know that after saddling up with prince too old, too young, too hard, too soft, too lumpy and too dumby I still long for the one that’s just right. Somewhere out there is a man on a steed and I’m ready to hear him say…

“My Lady, I am here to save you from your prison of boredom. I’m rescuing you with my world views, dreams, and my ability to make you laugh you’re a$$ off.”

Oh yes ya’ll! This damsel is falling out that window and into his arms…and off into the sunset we go…

*Sigh*

Okay. I’m tripping. Let me call up some my girls and see if anyone’s trying to do dinner. Lawd, I can’t wait to tell them about this prince charming rescuing me mess! I’m silly. I don't need saving. My girls got plenty of world views, dreams, and jokes to have me laughing happily ever after.

See You In Seven

The Fairest One of All

The other day I had brunch with a friend, and for the sake of story I’ll just call him Buddy. Buddy and I get together from time to time to catch up and reminisce about our past lives. Buddy is a friend I acquired a couple of years ago in adulthood through a series of random events that didn’t include a class project, a social networking event, or a church group. Buddy and I met in the trenches of a call center part time hustle, and while soliciting the opinions of good old Americans, we bonded over books and twenty-something brokeness.

So anyway, we are eating and having a time that’s good, when he updates me on the plight of his best friend who has recently experienced a devastating breakup. Her former dude has caused her to go all “Crazy Chick” because he essentially broke up with her without rhyme or reason. And in her breakup grief she has been on suicide watch. In anger has driven, with a female friend in tow, to his job…all without resolution to their three year relationship. Buddy then explained that now she is convinced that there is something wrong with her, and therefore there is something that she needs to change. And no, she isn’t thinking of the let this all go and let God variety… More like the “Doctor, more tits and ass please. And could you also throw in some lypo for good measure?”

Oh no! Hell Naw!

I said Buddy, did you tell her ain’t no nigga worth that?! He nodded, then shrugged. Because really what could he say, she’s already decided that is her solution. *Sigh* But the whole thing got me thinking about plastic surgery and how the idea has crossed my mind as a solution, but the outcome weighted against the needless risk I pretty have decided I'm not trying to undergo surgery just cause.

Looking back at childhood photographs I can say that I was one funny looking kid! I am so thankful for time and new gene expression because things weren’t looking so good for the home team! My older male cousin once told me that when comparing me to my other female cousins, he and my grandma (that mean old lady) had concluded that it was a good thing that I was at least smart. And that conversation led me down the rabbit hole of recollection where I don’t ever remember my parents fawning over my looks or even saying that I was beautiful. My father, and extremely intelligent man, told me that he believed that I was much smarter that he…and I remember being extremely pleased with that.

And so I don’t know what the lack of praise in my youth has done for my outlook on all things vain. It stands to reason that I should have a complex of some sort. But I will say that as my hair grew, and the braces came off, and the breasts grew bigger than my belly it was a pleasant shock as the old ladies started to say I was looking more and more like my mother, and less and less like my father. Thank the Lawd! For real ya'll!

But I’m aware that my outcome could have been different and my transition from a funny looking kid could have been to that of an ugly woman. And as a woman it’s difficult to exist in America if you don’t think you are beautiful. A few years ago I remember MTV had a show that allowed youngsters to undergo plastic surgery to look like their favorite pop culture idol. And I often wanted to know if they thought it was worth the pain and the risk, and how they feel about their decision today?

I think about what Buddy’s friend will do when ole boy still doesn’t want her or even to give her a reason to why they didn’t work out. What then? When I’m not looking in the mirror I feel like I’m pretty much the same smart little Amaretto who enjoys reading and puppies. And of course there is plenty of room for improvement but as cliché as it sounds, I am really of the thinking that it’s what folks got on the inside that's beautiful, and so therefore I am.

See You In Seven

My Vows to Myself

Y'all Show Your Love as 5 and a Possible Present: Courvoisier

Courvousier: Straight from the islands, I am a married lady living in the United States. I strive for knowledge, innovation and perfection in this world; though I’m keenly aware no one is perfect…not even me. I enjoy the simple and exquisite things in life. I believe every life has a purpose and I am eager to fulfill mine.

“And what is the purpose of life? It is the freedom of life, the liberation of life from all things, the liberation which comes when you have gone through all experiences and are, therefore, beyond all experience… welcome to your heart every experience, however unpleasant, however delightful, so as to make your life full as the rain-drop.” – Jiddhu Krishnamurti

Given some recent events that have occurred in my life, I have been pondering many of the life rules that I subconsciously made for myself. Here are few (not listed in any particular order):

You have to own a house.
You have to have a steady paying job.
You have to graduate from college.
You have to have kids.
You have to get married.
You have to look nice.
Etc., Etc., Etc

And being the Type-A personality that I am, I always take those rules a few steps further.

How?
Why?
When?

When I was younger, I recall having really good answers to these questions. Now that I am older, those answers don’t seem so great anymore. I find myself readdressing those rules and trying to justify those answers I thought were so great. And I can’t justify them at all anymore.

For those of you who don’t know me I have achieved all of these "rules" except for having kids. So this is not a case of me giving up on these goals for what ever reason, just because. I guess at this point in my life I feel like I have been there done that. Now what? Still young and in my twenties...what do I do next? So I started making life choices (note: these are no longer rules).

Here they are:

I will no longer make life rules that restrain me from living.

I will focus on the aspects of my life that make me happy/content.

I will believe that life is not work to buy-and-compete; work is to honestly obtain money to finance worthwhile enriching experiences.

And lastly, I will love myself regardless of what I have or have not achieved and/or obtained.

No longer am I going to get caught up in what I think I should be working towards and what I should have at a certain age. And encourage you all to do the same.

These are the vows I'm making to myself.

Much Luv :)

Courvoisier

Gooooo Team!

Now that I am a grown up girl thrown into the working world I’m subjected to do stuff on teams. Blah blah bluck to teamwork! I’m an only child, I can work quietly by myself, coloring in the lines and whistling whilst I work. Oh, but sometimes working in teams can just seem like a waste of life! I know teamwork is necessary and people are communal. No one person and do it all by their lonesome. But, some things should not take as long as they do. Not saying that I am a wham, bam, thank you ma’am, get your cash on your way out-type of person. But seriously, how long should it take to determine who our new water cooler supplier is going to be? In my mind one person could have scouted out some suppliers, thrown together a brief spreadsheet with cost comparisons, conferred with one other person about who it was going to be (which I did). End. Of. Story. Water Cooler breaks for all!

But Noooooo! I work for the government. I work with other people who are older, but not necessarily wiser, and maybe they enjoy wasting time because they will be retiring soon and very soon. And I guess it’s better to look busy than to actually be busy. But can I just say that we have been working on our water issue since February! There was snow on the ground and now it’s hot! I’ve already told them who would be the most beneficial (read: cheapest) but I’m under thirty so what do I know…and maybe it isn’t that I could be some of these people’s child, maybe these folks want to drag things on and on and on and on…the cipher keeps moving like a rolling stone.

And so I’m screaming on the train with Rum because this can not be my life for the next 30 years! Or even the next 3 years!

But since it is my life for the now, come share in my pain…

In January our regular water supplier decided to throw up their deuces because having water coolers is a thing of the past and they wanted to just distribute 24 packs of water to the world. So, since people in my office still gather around the water cooler to discuss the latest and greatest thing to happen on American Idol, there was a need to keep the good times rolling. So I got my Google on, read some things, threw an Excel spreadsheet together and determined a winner, because back then I was just promoted. But they weren’t ready for that level of initiative so….

First a meeting was called and brainstorming commenced-I really don’t recall the particulars of this meeting because I was perfecting my poodle doodle on my note pad.

Then a few of my co-“workers” volunteered to head up the water probing expedition and they drafted me to be on the team. Yay, I wasn’t picked last! But think Lewis and Clark with me playing the role of Sacajawea.

Then I bring to my team my fact findings and lay them at their feet. They pat me on my head and say good job and send me on my way.

Then another meeting is scheduled to update the department on water. My team lead states that we have been diligent with our efforts, but still have not been able to secure a supplier or a contract. Hmmm. Okay. If only that were true, I muse as I doodle a duck to play with my poodle near a pond on my note pad.

And that ladies and gentleman is where we are today…in June! I think another meeting is scheduled for July…and as you can see I’m typing a blog whilst I drink a Micky D’s Sweet tea at my desk…

For the most part teamwork has always left a bad taste in my mouth. Think sour milk on wheat germ cereal. Because either the team slows you up by holding you down…or they don’t do a darn thing to contribute to your work and effort! But they are first smile for the accolades. Either way I have yet to be part of a team that didn’t leave me frustrated in the process. Is it me? Ha ha ha. Bless my soul.

Or is it everyone else?

See You In Seven

You're My Little Secret

So they are finally getting that Sex and the City Movie made and released. Okay! Two cheers for reconciliation between Sarah and Kim…all for the greater good of dollar, dollar bills ya’ll! Let the debauchery begin! *humming the theme the song in my head* Let the ugly clothes be paraded-
Yikes! Get me my cosmopolitan and let Carrie annoy with her questions until the end of time… Go Samantha, get your freak on! Go Charlotte, get you a baby! Go Miranda, you’re a lesbian!

But truth be told, I, like Oprah, love that show. And once it started getting played on the WB, er a CW it made it hard to go to bed before 11. I mean I just had to know what compromising positions those gals were going to get into next. Like when Carrie walked in on Samantha giving the delivery guy a blow job. Hilarious! Carrie dating the Russian…early bird specials anyone? That relationship was just nasty. Or when Charlotte dated that man who was more feminine than she. Tee hee! And how about Miranda pretending she was gay to get ahead at her law firm… Art imitating life? Hmmmmm.

But one of the bestest episodes, in my own personal opinion, was that one about secret single behavior (SSB). Sometimes, as I sit in my room combing my hair so it sticks up like a troll doll (hey, it's lucky), I wonder at what point does a person care and share some of the things they do when no one is watching? I know I like eating peanut butter and jelly directly out of the jar. And I play the same song on my CD player back to back for about an hour. Why? Because I have to sing along. Then create an interpretive dance. And then sing and dance at the same time for my adoring fan base comprised of stuffed animals and pillows. And don’t get me started on playing dress up in my own clothes. Or the fact that sniff tests are conducted more often than I care to admit when deciding what to wear. None of these things I think are weird, like sleeping with a raw chicken under my pillow, but how will I be able to hide these truths, that are bound to be self evident? What happens to SSB when a single becomes part of a couple? Does SSB dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore- Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Yes, that was shameless borrowing from a much greater writer.

So what are some of your SSBs? Do you share them or not? If you do, at what point do you put yourself out there?

Ponder, marinate…or better yet comment.

See You in Seven

When Being a Punk is Necessary

There are like three things I know for certain about myself. Numero Uno: My favorite color is green-pretty much all shades except the lime and electric varieties. Number 2: I *HEART* Sour Patch Kids-having a raw mouth is totally worth the chewy gummy goodness. And lastly, I can say that I have never ever ever been in a fight! Well let me be honest…there was that time I had to kick my cousins butt over the remote because I refused to watch The Last Dragon one mo ‘gin! I mean how many times can a girl be subjected to Sho’Nuff and watching Bruce Leroy glow trying to save his family’s pizza place?! But I’m proud of the fact that I have never had to meet someone down by the oak tree at three o’clock…

But I ain’t gonna lie there was a time that I almost got my ass beat! Come go with me back to 1998. I was a junior in high school who was able to attend the senior prom. Oh the things I saw that night as the class of ’98 got down with the get down. Some fashions were fabulous, and others well… So the next week back on the school yard I decided to share and care with the masses the things that I saw. There was this one girl who’s outfit I felt was a hot mess. Picture a 300 plus pound woman wearing a lot of blue sheer and flowing material in the “I Dream of Jeannie” fashion… thankfully she had some sort of crush blue velvet material covering her stomach area. Oh, and the look was completed with a clip-on ponytail and the blue satin shoes that elves and apparently genies wear. Well as I told my “Somebody Should Have Told Her…” tale to the masses, I was completely unaware that “Jeannie’s” hateful cousin was in the crowd. Rut, roh! Well word got back to me that Jeannie and ‘em were looking for me to talk about some things. How many of ya’ll know that 300 plus pound women, tend to roll with 300 plus pound women? These girls had big man hands, big ole breasts, and big shinny boots-perfect for kicking me down and stomping my head. They were more than capable of putting your girl in a wheelchair for life!

And for the following days, I was a total and complete punk! And I say that proudly. I was looking over my shoulder, quickening my pace to and from class. I mean I didn’t have the type of friends who would run out of AP classes ready to rumble with razors and brass knuckles, my friends would more likely visit me in the hospital with flowers and fruits baskets. But then one day on my way to the bathroom, I found myself completely alone in the hallway with one of the Big’un girls in Jeannie’s crew…

Let me tell you I love fruit baskets ya’ll.

But I didn’t get beat down that day, because I was able to appeal to Big’un. I stated the case for why violence was not the answer and how unwise it would be for her t kick my ass in her Senior year. And if she thought I wasn’t going to press assault and battery charges she was crazy. I told her to think about MLK and the Black on Black crime rates and how we should strive to not be statistics… Okay, I’m sorry that’s the version I’m going to tell my kids…The truth was she told me that Jeannie’s name should never ever come out of my mouth again and if it did I was going to get what I “deserved”. So much for free speech right? And when she was finished telling me that she was sparing me, I apologized and said that it would never happen again...

Thank the Lord for salvation…and I didn’t pee on myself!

But let’s just say that this happened in 2008, would I have been so lucky? Now that everyone has an anger problem? Especially when folks are begging for the right to bear arms based on a constitutional condition that was written when folks lived in the wilderness. And ain’t nobody tryin’ to hear anything other than what they are saying, or ain’t caring about nobody else but themselves. I know that if this situation where to happen today, I wouldn’t be standing tall, taking my earrings off-asking someone to go get me some Vaseline… I’d be like Forrest Gump and be ruuuuunnnning…

And that’s the fourth thing I know for sure about myself!

See You In Seven