Pass the Peas

Well I guess it's my turn for some random ramblings/musings/thoughts swirling around in my brain, cause it's been one of those weeks. Which leads me to

1. I'm tired. Like really, really tired. Not tired of this or that. But literally tired. Like what I imagine is the definition of fatigued.

2. Something really sweet and unexpected happened to me earlier this week that reminded me that...

3. While I do believe it's perfectly acceptable to show a guy interest, give him a nudge, and maybe even ask him out, it feels good to be pursued and...

4. I should stop saying I don't like meeting new people, because it doesn't totally suck and isn't nearly as bad as I make it up to be in my head, but I've realized that...

5. While I can, (but not necessarily do) talk to "anyone", just anyone can't talk to me and truly understand and enjoy the greatness that is Rum Punch. And I hate being watered down Rum Punch.

6. God is funny.

7. Sometimes what you think was. Wasn't. Not really. But you don't truly realize that until. Until you do.

8. I am on a 24 hour champagne diet, spillin' while I'm sippin', I encourage you to try it. I have been singing Money to Blow for the past week. And I don't know why I love that song so much cause Birdman's part sucks, Lil' Wayne is just a rambling fool these days and...

9. I can't stand Drake. Like at all. And yet that's a song that makes me wish I went to clubs, so I could act a fool and make it rain, I mean make it precipitate and also makes me

10. wish I had money to blow. And...

11. Some magical powers to teleport me and all my stuff from mama n'em's house to new house.

12. Earlier this week I went to the doctor and she said, "so you're 2 years from crossing the burning sands of 30 huh?" And I was like, "yeah. Thanks for the reminder." She also told me,

13. that I need to lose weight. And I was like, "yeah. Thanks for the reminder." Sometimes I feel like I'm gonna be battling this weight forever. This must be how Oprah feels. Only she has money to blow.

14. I also got a tetanus shot while at the doctor. I hate shots and made it known. And when it was all done she said, "just think you won't have to go through this pain for another 10 years. Now wouldn't it be great if that was the only painful thing that happened to you in 10 years?" Yes. It totally would. But then it wouldn't be life, I guess.

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

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I really liked the random musings. Got my own lil twist with some 20 questions flavor. Like to hear it, here it go...

1. How do you get sugar from a sugar daddy without coming out and asking "daddy can I have some sugar?"

2. Can a man ever just send you a "friendly" bouquet of flowers?

3. Marriage aint for everybody. And like phonte say, you might not know that till you get married.

4. Is it racist if you can't stand the sound of the voices of a particular race's female members only?

5. Should a woman ever make the first move and ask a man out?

6. Did curiosity really kill the cat or was it that thing the cat did that she aint had no business doing?

7. Some days I wanna be married but then when I think about the actual mechanics of it or meet some guy who I'm not feeling who flirtatiously tells me he is looking for a wife, I have a change of heart.

8. I'm really lovin' Gossip Girl right now. I firmly believe it's the best show on tv right now. The drama. The comedy. It's like the White tween's The Game.

9. Who needs fidelity when you're married to the one of the richest people in the world? So long as you don't disrespect the family wit no outside kids and national enquirer front page stories. Keep that shit discreet and for physical gratification purposes only.

10. Nude lip colors are supercute on peeps like Beyonce, J.Lo, and the random super model. How does it work for chocolate girls like me? Do I need to find a chocolate colored lip gloss to achieve that look?

in the meantime

I am on the phone for the umpteenth time with the Passport office trying to locate why a passport of the expidited variety is not at my residence. And wonderin' how and why egregious incompetence exist in an ever-more rapidly technological society... grrrrr....

Folks, I apologize for being MIA. Last week was Thanksgiving Eve and between a partial work-day, acquiring last minute grocery items, and hittin' the gym; too exhausted to blog or let ya know. And then the week prior, I was attending a conference and the hotelier was stingy about wireless services, so I gave up.

Now since I've been away, some funny and not so funny things have transpired.

Did you all watch the presidential address last night? I caught it from the beginning on the ABC network. The cadets looked sleepy, I don't drink coffee, but a cup of something would have been right on time to perk our servicemen up. Even a few senior officers were caught trying not to doze off. Hilarity! speaking of Hillary, this is the first time since the Democratic campaign when she wasn't caught looking so damn tired. Perhaps the fact that not so lil' Chelsea is gettin' married is enought to spring life back in to Mama.

OMG, Tiger damn Woods. This story is a trip and I have to share why. Back in the day, maybe sophmore year in college there was a loud ass black woman in my class. Let's call her Bonita. Bonita was in her 30s at the time and desired to finish school to propel vertical movement in her career and set an example for her teenage daughter. So back then, when Tiger was the prince of golf and not the King he has become to be - she shared her two cents on him. "How the hell is Tiger dating the nanny?" IDK, 'cuz he like her. "Well, if Ms.Scandinavia had been a sista, she' have to be of the Jack & Jill variety, impeccable parental credentials ,...." and I tuned out of the conversation from there. Be'cuz to Bonita, she was right and sometimes hearing her two cents on things was the comedic relief needed at the end of the long ass psych class. So, you have to know I had flashbacks about Bonita, when Tiger's story broke out. tee hee tee hee You know jilly from philly always said ev'ry thing ain't for ev'rybody! So, what I would like to say to Bonita is sometimes your rant was much ado about nothing!

poor Sheila Dixon?!? Sheila Dixon is the mayor of Baltimore. What happened???... I have yet to hit up my friend who has ties to the Baltimore establishment and get some inside scoop. Before I share my two cents, let me remind folks of a few things. If you owe Uncle Sam and it's not an exorbitant amount, let's say $500 he'll allow you to repay him back. How do I know? I know several people who owe Uncle Sam and they're on a plan to pay him back. I know folks who missed paying in their rent on time and caught up by the following month-penalties incurred, but all is good. So, Mayor Dixon was found guilty of spending $500 giftcards meant for the poor in Baltimore. And the giftcards gifted to the city came from a developer who was Mayor Dixon's former lover. Ladies, ladies, do we not hear Bellini --- don't eva, eva, eva late a man fcuk up your shit!

Can you believe the Mayor may be suspended indefinitely from finishing her term and could lose her pension over $500 that she could have paid back. Lord, legal fees may crush her.

So, my passport which should have traveled down the east coast last night, is actually traveling now, be'cuz someone's lazy ass in the Passport office could not find the time to get off their ass and handcarry the passport to the mailroom for pick-up which would have guaranteed the courier's delivery today. They have no idea the irate letter waiting for them upon completion of the draft...

And to finish with good news... 28 days 'til the New Year! yaayyyy!

cheers,

Bellini

Feeling Sad?

It seems to be going around like the piggy flu these days. Now that it gets darker earlier more of the folks I know are complaining about being tired and blue. Well like in all things the folks that be have given this feeling a name. They came up with SAD. I know I know, did it really take a team of scientists and some Freudian disciples to develop this term? “Road Rage” and “Sexting” have greater rings to them don’t they? But alas, Seasonal Affective Disorder is running rampant at my good ole government job. People are oversleeping, have a lack of energy and concentration. People tend to over eat when they are SAD. True story-today at Chipotle the woman in front of me order three meat tacos and a meat topped salad. So what, right? Well she got it for “Here” and she ate alone. Now I’m not scientist-but I think that lady was SAD or at least the situation was. As a big girl who enjoys her food-when I feeling the greedies I tend to take my stuff to go. Binging should be done in the privacy of one’s home, in front of the tv with optional or comfortable clothing. *Ahem* But I digress.

So why am I talking about being SAD? Because there is a cure-and I got nothing else this week. How can I say that when Elgin-er Tiger Woods still hasn’t told us if his wife beat him up with his golf clubs?! So the cure for Sadness apparently it is light! My coworker was telling me today that she was hitting up Amazon.com in search of a light therapy lamp for her desk. So I was like “What you talking about co-worker?” To which she enlightened me. She’s been feeling tired and sad a lot lately and she believe that this whole light therapy treatment will be her cure. I wondered if this was really and truly possible. Not some hubbub thrown together by a mystic or one of those hippy people trying to get their insurance company to pay for a trip to Jamaica for medical reasons! So when I got back to my desk I went to go to Google University for a quick lesson. It was like a whole new world ya’ll. I felt like Columbus in 1492, discovering something that had already been found. You would think that this was only big business in Alaska, or maybe part of the lore on par with the Loch Ness monster. But SAD and it’s therapy are real! And adults in places other than California, Florida and the southwest are suffering.

So if you suddenly find yourself feeling sad don’t blame it on the alcohol or the fact that another year is just around the corner and you haven’t accomplished all that you aspired to. I am here to tell you that science, medicine and maybe even the light bulb industry have named your ailment. You are just SAD. Don’t you feel better now that you know what you got? Once the days get longer, or you buy a lamp this feeling will soon pass. Oh wouldn’t it be nice if doctors could prescribe all expense paid trips to Caribbean? Do you think Obama could sneak that into the healtcare plan?

I know I’m an idealist!

See You In Seven

Random Ramblings

This is my first time kicking one of these out... (clear my throat)

1. Found a new blog site to read at leisure that makes you raise eyebrow at times: http://vigilantcitizen.com

2. Realized I love Lady Gaga even though she is VERY strange.

3. Finding the social experiment of Match.com entertaining.

4. Happy and confident that I decided to continue to focus my energy on my passion and not be wooed by Big Corporate America

5. Considered calling an old fling after watching him on TV last night... decided against it. The past is the past.

6. I still miss Mr.

7. Finally got rid of cable so now I can seriously consider renting my own artist studio space.

8. I don't really want to go home for Christmas, does that make me a bad daughter?

9. Sometimes I wish booty calls didn't exist especially when they actually wake you up.

10. I ate too much on Thursday... working out with a cold is going to kill me this week.

Much luv until next week peace :)

P.S. Did I really have a crush on this guy in the '90s?

Snoop Dogg - New Music - More Music Videos

525,600 Minutes

So this is my third post Thanksgiving post. Two years ago I wrote about Big Mamas. Or the lack thereof. Last year, my post was cut short, because someone had broken into my car. And that leads me to the point of this year’s post. Dang really – have two years really gone by?!? I don’t even know what I was thinking about two years ago – unless I read my old posts. And my car being broken into a year ago seemed like such a HUGE deal – if only I had known that months later it would actually get stolen. Lol. And when I think of these things it causes me to wanna break out into song and start singing, “525,600 minutes. How do you measure, measure a year?”

"525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?" Seasons of Love, Rent the Musical

Last November I was unemployed, living with my mama, knee deep in like with this man. A year later – I work a job that I love, I have bought a house, and I am now waist deep in dislike with that nygga. Trying to get it down to the knees though. Lol. And so how does one measure a year like that? One can’t count the joy and ignore the pain. One can’t focus solely on the many tears that were shed and forget that there was lots of laughter there too. And one must be grateful for the good, bad and the that sho’ll was ugly – cause it’s all there for a reason.

And so I measure this year in the ordinary. In the everyday. Not in the extremes, but in the things that kept me sane and grounded. The simple things, the lovely, simple things. My grandmama’s Thursday fried chicken and biscuit dinners; weekly Bible Study with my old folk; my daily gmail chats with Mint Julep full of rants, philosophies, and gripes on men folk; great trips with 5 spot; dozens of little girls from the hood telling me how much they love the program I provide thus making me love my job even more; this here blog; my mama’s smile; my parents empty bed that I climb into when I’m feeling blue to watch TV or nap; lazy Saturday afternoons with marathons of The Game; my three aunties whose houses always serve as refuge and whose ears are always open; my daddy calling me beautiful; my brother and I sharing a laugh at anything, everything and nothing in particular; my drive to and from work that serves as me-time where I sing loudly and dance to my favorite songs - regardless of if white people are lookin at me; free drinks from my bartender boos; dinners with the girls where things start with a giggle, then become a laugh, then guffaws; my mama and granny seeing me off every morning like it’s my first day of school telling me to have a great day; my afternoon tea; evening TV watching; annual family gatherings and regular church services. And in all of that ordinary, in all of that everyday, there were unexpected lessons. But even better there was love. Lots of love. And for that I am thankful.

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

Silent Tears

So this morning I am in the bathroom at work changing from workout Amaretto to I got bills to pay Amaretto when I hear a woman walk into the bathroom sniffling. Now I have to share that I was in the handicap stall because it’s larger and has a mirror and sink and as a whole handicap stalls make the public bathroom experience so much better. And so I wonder why all stalls can’t be handicap stalls? Why limit the disabled? Why punish the non-handicapped with a coffin-like bathroom experience? Sorry-I am just typing what randomly is coming into my head, but I do think I need to write someone and propose that all bathroom stalls be handicapped stalls!

Anyways, I also realized while typing that I didn’t really need to let ya’ll know that I was in the handicapped stall, but I wanted you two fine readers of the 5 spot to know why I was so a tuned to what was going on in the bathroom. A disabled person will cuss you out for using their stall. No bull-my grandma learned that the hard way when walking out of a handicapped stall there was a lady in a wheelchair waiting. What is the likelihood right? But if all the stalls had been able to accommodate a wheelchair my grandma would not have had to apologize so vehemently to a woman half her age. But we live and we learn!

Anyways I’m in the stall and I keep hearing the woman sniff. At first I was like she has a cold. But as it continued my mind flashed to movie scenes in which people are doing lines of cocaine in the bathroom, but most folks in my building are getting government wage to go with their good government job which means that they can’t afford the designer drugs. So then I hear the woman say “Oh God’ *sniffle* “Oh God” *whimper* *sniffle* and that is the moment where I was conflicted… should I ask the woman if she was okay?

I think most of us know what to do when a person needs help. A person’s bag of groceries breaks and food falls to the ground-we stop and we help-maybe take an apple for our troubles. When our bathroom neighbor needs some toilet tissue we spare the square © Elaine from Seinfeld. But when our bathroom neighbor enters the stall to have a personal breakdown should we ask them if they are okay?

Now I have to tell ya’ll that this thing called life has had me in the bathroom crying more than a river. I mean even though I might have tried as hard as I could to hold back the tears or to blame my reddening eyes on allergies, some times a girl (I don’t know if men feel the same) has to get up and go into the ladies room. But this morning, I didn’t know what my role should have been as a hearer of tears. I don’t think I would have appreciated someone trying to console me in the bathroom during my weak moments. A woman crying in a bathroom stall is there because she needs a private place to not be strong for a minute.

I think I did the right thing by walking out, but hours later I am wondering if maybe I should I have asked if she was okay or needed a tissue. What is the proper procedure for when a fellow woman feels disabled by life?

See You In Seven