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Friday, April 14, 2017

10 Year Fears

I didn't go to my ten year high school reunion. I ended up going to a high school outside of my district, gay boyfriend in toe, for a fresh start. What I got instead was a fresh hell. I won't go into too many deats. Let's just say it was horrible.

On the flip side, I had the time of my life in college. It was how I had wished that high school had been! I had fun. I was social. I had friends. People knew who I was. Yet, my 10 year reunion is later on this year, and I don't think that I will be going to that one either.

Thanks to the soul-imprisoning social network that is Facebook, you no longer need a reunion to keep up with your compadres. A large a mount of my time in the morning is dedicated to going through my Facebook timeline and liking advance degree announcements, manicured hand engagement pics, wedding albums, and job promotion brags. And who can forget the exotic vacation imagery? I feel in my heart that attending my reunion will just make me even more envious and depressed. I would like to see my friends, but I feel like they all have gotten more beautiful with age. Meanwhile, I have gotten fatter when I was already fat to begin with!

I can't believe that it has already be ten years. Where has the time gone?! I have to look at my resume to remember, which is another post entirely. For now, these are my feelings on that: 😒.

I want to go to my reunion, but only if I'm gorgeous and making Arab money. That may sound stupid, but I feel close enough to you to tell you how I feel. We'll see how far I have progressed for my 20 year reunion.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Almost Honest

Just a few moments ago I was texting a cute guy that I met during a girl's night out at Chili's. He asked me how my day was, and I began to respond. Afterward, I read over my text for grammar errors and immediately realized that I had to erase everything I'd written. I was telling him what a poopy day I'd had. This is a no no! I haven't known him long enough to be honest with him. I replaced my bad day rant with some poppycock about today being awesome because the sun was out. This was the biggest lie of all. The pollen was so heavy today that I thought I was going to have an asthma attack as I walked to work.

Every girl that knows something about anything knows that you don't show too much of yourself to a guy too early. For the first couple of months, you have to be on your best behavior. Never yelling. Down to do stupid stuff on dates that doesn't interest you. No farts. Being an intensely negative person, this means keeping my downer thoughts and the details of my downer days to myself. This stinks because I have so much to say but can't. If you could call my new beau and ask him to describe me, he would probably say that I am quiet. LOL, what a joke!

How awesome the world would be if you could just be yourself off the bat. No secrets. No lies. No wigs- you could just be you. I predict that relationships would end pretty soon, but that would be fine. No one's time would be wasted, and you could move on to the next in good conscience.

But sadly, this is not the way of the world. So for the next month or two, assuming my new beau doesn't drop me because he doesn't get that I'm not responding to him because I literally have nothing nice to say, I have to be Patty Positive, as boring and as fake as she is. You may be shaking your head interneters, but I'm telling you the truth. Nothing puts an end to a young courtship like honesty.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Trumped: My Best Friend Is A Trump Lover

I try not to get political on my blog, and I know that pretty much everyone in the U.S., no matter what party they claim, is politically exhausted. So, I'll try to be as brief as possible when discussing how my best friend is a Trump lover and I fear that this is going to ruin our friendship.
When he first told me that he was on the Trump train, I thought that he was kidding. You know, just saying something to get on my nerves, like when he says that my head is unusually big. But things got real when he began defending the president's cray-cray like his life depended on it. I couldn't believe my ears! He is a Muslim...in pres love with a man who is slowly but surely trying to band Muslims from the country!
So how does a Muslim Black Man go to the dark side? He is prolife and likes guns, the end. And, behind his loco rantings, he felt that Trump was talking a lot of sense.
Let's be clear: me and this friend agree on very little. We are pretty much opposites on everything in life. It doesn't bother me so much that he is a Trump supporter, but that he we would support a man that is a champion for everything that is against his interest as a Black and Muslim man! And sadly, even thought I know everyone has a right to have their own opinion, his alignment with Trump makes me wonder if he is suffering from something mentally.
LOL, that last remark is what my friend would call a symptom of my liberal arrogance.
This friend and I have argued about everything under the sun but I don't know. When it comes to our discussions on our current political situation, I just get SO mad, and so does he. I just don't believe that he is falling for the hype, he is so smart otherwise.
Again, my liberal arrogance.
So recently, I told him that we can no longer talk politics to save our friendship. He agreed. The sad thing is that this has me questioning him as a person, wondering what else about him is bananas. It makes me feel like I don't know him at all. Fingers crossed that this whole thing blows over and we can go back to our friendship normal: making each other laugh and calling each other names.

Fun Valentine's Picks from Macy's

If you are anything like me, you have again waited until the last minute to purchase Valentine's Day gifts for your loved ones. Have no fear, Macy's has us covered with super cute and adorable gifts.

Saturday, February 4, 2017

Super Bowl Sips

I know that many of you will be hosting parties for the Super Bowl tomorrow. I bet that you will be serving trays and trays of wings in an array of flavors, tons of dip, and a boatload of other goodies. But don't forget the libations! These recipes below are guaranteed to get any party started.

Dickelade
1.25 oz. George Dickel No. 12
4 oz. Lemonade
Lemon Slice
Add George Dickel No.12 and lemonade in -ice-filled glass and stir. Garnish with lemon.


Captain & Ginger
1.5 oz. Captain Morgan Original Spiced Rum
4 oz. Ginger (beer or ale)
Lime Wedge
Serve on the rocks and garnish with a lime wedge

Crown Royal Press
1.5 oz.  Crown Royal Deluxe
3 dashes of bitters
2 squeezed lemon wedge(s)
1 splash of lemon-lime soda
1 lemon wedge 
Serve on the rocks and top with lemon-lime soda. Garnish with a lemon.

Out-Fielders

A friend of mine called me the other night to let me know that she'd gotten a new job...that she couldn't tell me about. And not because it was some top-secret government position, but because she was ashamed of it. The job had nothing to do with her field and was not associated in any way with what she studied in college.
"Are you serious?" I asked her. And she was, because she didn't tell me what her new job is. All I know is that it is legal and that she isn't stripping or working in fast food.
Needless to say, I though that her attitude towards her new gig was ridiculous. As long as she was getting a paycheck, who cared, right? WRONG! I ran into a childhood friend on the way home from work the other night and asked her what she is doing now. She said that she is working at Phillip's Arena, the arena where the Atlanta Hawks play. Man, she looked humiliated, like she had just told me her deepest, most embarrassing secret.
That night, I sat and thought about her and my other "secret job" having friend. What was up with people being ashamed of getting paid? I asked myself. But then I had to kick myself off of my soap box and remember that, just three years ago, I was willing to go homeless before I got a job outside of my field. Even sitting on top of a mountain of bills aned eviciton notices, I just couldn't go put in an application at Wendy's. No really, my feet would not move! I literally could not do it! The way I saw it, I had not paid my dues at a job that sucked out all of my positive energy, nor had my mom gone into Parent Plus Loan debt on my behalf for me to just end up giving out samples at the mall.
So, here is the lesson that I am learning that I would like to share with my fellow "out-fielders", or those of us working outside of our chosen fields: not every job has to be permanent. Don't allow your inbetween time gigs to define you. If I hadn't had been so proud, I could still be living comfortably in my shithole townhouse with money I could have earned as a CVS cashier. But I'm not, now knowing that a dollar is more important than my ego.
I know, I know, easier said than done. But just be warned, depending on how long you can go without quality food, you may be getting a "just for now" gig sooner than you think. It's okay. You are not alone. I know that this harsh truth is disappointing, but it is not the end of the world. Keep your head up out-fielder! Fingers crossed, there is a less demeaning job around the corner.

I MARCHED YA'LL!

I am sure that by now, many of you have heard about the women's marches that took place across the nation. Women and supporters for the cause marched across the the US on issues pertinent to our rights, and the turnout was AWESOME! I have to be honest: I was not going to go. I knew that there was a march taking place in DC, and there was no way that I could get there. Many of the women that I work with said that there was a march that was going to take place right here in Atlanta that they were going to attend, yet I still was not compelled to participate. I knew the weather was going to suck that weekend, and let's be real, I hate walking. But then my friend Tasia said that she was going and bringing a friend and asked if I wanted to come a long. I said yes. I knew that Tasia wouldn't leave me downtown if I couldn't walk as fast as her. I was pissed about the threats that President Trump was making against reproductive rights, and I wanted to make a sign. Anyway, how many chances do you get to be a part of history?
The weather man was right: the weather was pretty bad. It had rained earlier that morning and Tasia wanted to back out. I was so hyped about my super cute sign that I insisted that we still go, and I am so happy that I did. The energy was vibrant and pure and exciting. There weren't just women there- there were men and transpeople and children and LGBT supporters. I was also shocked at the amount of senior women who showed up to walk. When I turn 80, I pray that I have half of their energy. Many of them stormed passed me on the walk to the capital. 
Because it rained and the walk started late, I was scared that the many people wouldn't show and that some that had come would leave. But that wasn't the case: once the walk got started it was on! There was singing and chanting and beats on a drum and even some crying. And yes, there was a pro-life activist that came who was yelling on a bull horn with a sign, but nothing went down.
When we made it to the capital there was music and celebration and joy and of course, snipers on the roof of the building. Sadly, my camera is too bootleg for me to have gotten a good photo of them on the roof with guns. After the walk, Tasia and I were even interviewed by HERS Magazine on why we chose to march! I have to say, I am so glad that I went. It was an awesome day! 


But please believe me when I say that, after the walk, I paid for us to hitch a Lyft ride back to Tasia's car. I'm sorry, but this revolutionary was exhausted. Until the next march ya'll!