So I am in my room, just chillin', when there is a bang on the door. I open it, and who is it but Taji and Connie.
"Am I dreaming?" I ask.
"Yes, it's a nightmare," he answered.
It's like he could read my mind!
The good thing: he went and got me some juice. The bad thing: I have to go to the bathroom and I can't because I can't potty with a man in the house. Sigh.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Dreads The Man
So, yesterday I left my house to cover the OneMusicFest and returned smitten kitten for a new guy: Dreads The Man, Dreads for short.
I had the best spot in the place: I was right in front of the speakers...yessss! I got there right in the middle of The Cool Kids set (which was awesome) and I was having a blast. After their set, The Pharcyde came on, and this really hot dude with dread locks came and stood beside me.
We begin chatting here and there inbetween songs which was hard to do, seeing that we were on the speakers. All I know about him, pretty much, is that he has a really bright spirit and he is 34.
I had to leave my spot to go to the press area to see if Chrisette Michelle was doing interviews. As I waited on her, I could not stop thinking about this guy. So, stepping outside of myself for a sec, I march back over to the stage and ask him if he has a girlfriend.
He says that he does, but that he had been thinking about me since he left. He gave me his number.
After waiting an hour on Chrisette, I decide it's time for me to make my exit. I can't lie, I was looking around for him as I am leaving, and I don't see him.
So, I text him that it was nice to meet him, and he said it was nice to meet me too and that he was looking for me after the show. Sweet right.
OK, now, about this girl friend. Can you just be friends with a guy who has a girlfriend? Is that allowed? Not sure, I am hoping so. I plan on meeting up with him next week. Hopefully, I can make a new guy friend out of this.
I had the best spot in the place: I was right in front of the speakers...yessss! I got there right in the middle of The Cool Kids set (which was awesome) and I was having a blast. After their set, The Pharcyde came on, and this really hot dude with dread locks came and stood beside me.
We begin chatting here and there inbetween songs which was hard to do, seeing that we were on the speakers. All I know about him, pretty much, is that he has a really bright spirit and he is 34.
I had to leave my spot to go to the press area to see if Chrisette Michelle was doing interviews. As I waited on her, I could not stop thinking about this guy. So, stepping outside of myself for a sec, I march back over to the stage and ask him if he has a girlfriend.
He says that he does, but that he had been thinking about me since he left. He gave me his number.
After waiting an hour on Chrisette, I decide it's time for me to make my exit. I can't lie, I was looking around for him as I am leaving, and I don't see him.
So, I text him that it was nice to meet him, and he said it was nice to meet me too and that he was looking for me after the show. Sweet right.
OK, now, about this girl friend. Can you just be friends with a guy who has a girlfriend? Is that allowed? Not sure, I am hoping so. I plan on meeting up with him next week. Hopefully, I can make a new guy friend out of this.
Withheld
The other night I got a call from a withheld number. I answer, and it sounds like another language. I hand up, even though it gave me the creeps.
The caller calls right back, and, after listening closely, I am able to make out the word "pussy" in the rambling. I hang up, realizing I am being obscenely called. Who do I believe the culprit is: 7 Up! Who else?
He calls again but I don't answer. Asshole. That is the last time I give my number out. All my friends get the number from the dudes now. I see why. You don't want a 7 Up situation.
The caller calls right back, and, after listening closely, I am able to make out the word "pussy" in the rambling. I hang up, realizing I am being obscenely called. Who do I believe the culprit is: 7 Up! Who else?
He calls again but I don't answer. Asshole. That is the last time I give my number out. All my friends get the number from the dudes now. I see why. You don't want a 7 Up situation.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Two girls, some busted tires, and a gas station
Last Saturday night, Tasia and I were cruising to Drake in her Volkswagen when boom! She ran over a median and busted her two front tires.
Luckily we were right next to a gas station. Unluckily, we were in our club clothes and know diddly about cars.
Buts tooted in the air at a poorly lit gas station, of course, tons of dudes offered to help us, and all of them looked shifty. However, an old guy and his wife were nice enough to help us out, changing the front right tire. Tasia figured she could drive home with the other flat, seeing that it was just a "slow leak." Apparently, it's not a slow leak when you can put your fist through the tire.
Some background: Tasia and my's friendship has all the makings of a Lifetime love story. I live in "the hood" (aka: an all black neighborhood) and she lives in Alpharetta, (aka: a predominately white suburb). While I saw us in a situation where we had a flat, she was really scared.
So, after calling all the boys she knew to help us, all of them having an excuse as to why they couldn't help, we decided to park the car in front of the gas station and just call a cab to take us to my house. There was a closed tire shop next to the gas station. We would come back and get it fixed then.
Long story short, the cab never came. Tasia was too scared to leave the car, so we slept in it. My night was filled with people knocking on the window to inform us that we were in a bad neighborhood, including the community prostitute, as Tasia slept like a baby. At one point, I woke up a panic, unable to find my phone, which had fallen in the backseat. It. Was. A. Nightmare.
That morning, I walked over to the tire shop to see that they are closed on Sundays. Of course they were. And FYI, apparently all tire shops are, accept Firestone, which is where her aunt and uncle took us in the morning. I could just feel they blamed me for the whole situation.
Lesson learned kids: get AAA, no matter what the cost.
Luckily we were right next to a gas station. Unluckily, we were in our club clothes and know diddly about cars.
Buts tooted in the air at a poorly lit gas station, of course, tons of dudes offered to help us, and all of them looked shifty. However, an old guy and his wife were nice enough to help us out, changing the front right tire. Tasia figured she could drive home with the other flat, seeing that it was just a "slow leak." Apparently, it's not a slow leak when you can put your fist through the tire.
Some background: Tasia and my's friendship has all the makings of a Lifetime love story. I live in "the hood" (aka: an all black neighborhood) and she lives in Alpharetta, (aka: a predominately white suburb). While I saw us in a situation where we had a flat, she was really scared.
So, after calling all the boys she knew to help us, all of them having an excuse as to why they couldn't help, we decided to park the car in front of the gas station and just call a cab to take us to my house. There was a closed tire shop next to the gas station. We would come back and get it fixed then.
Long story short, the cab never came. Tasia was too scared to leave the car, so we slept in it. My night was filled with people knocking on the window to inform us that we were in a bad neighborhood, including the community prostitute, as Tasia slept like a baby. At one point, I woke up a panic, unable to find my phone, which had fallen in the backseat. It. Was. A. Nightmare.
That morning, I walked over to the tire shop to see that they are closed on Sundays. Of course they were. And FYI, apparently all tire shops are, accept Firestone, which is where her aunt and uncle took us in the morning. I could just feel they blamed me for the whole situation.
Lesson learned kids: get AAA, no matter what the cost.
Recovered
After that a-hole disrespected me with the dick pic and rude texts about my weight, I felt pretty shitty about myself, so I went on an eating binge, gave myself zits and horrible gas, became a recluse in my room while creating Youtube playlists, and moped.
I erased his texts and just sat on my floor, staring blankly at my walls. I am now feeling a whole lot better.
The thing is, I wasn't really mad at him. I had not known him long enough for him to matter. I was mad that I attracted a man that disrespectful and gross. What is it about me that says to guys, "There goes a girl that I can mistreat! Yay!" And how is it that I just can't tell right off the bat what these guys are about?
Having the teaspoon of confidence I have left consistently trampled on after the disaster that is P is just too much. It's exhausting, and I don't have the energy or the heart to go through it anymore. I know I say it all the time, but no more boys. They are truly bad for my spirit
I erased his texts and just sat on my floor, staring blankly at my walls. I am now feeling a whole lot better.
The thing is, I wasn't really mad at him. I had not known him long enough for him to matter. I was mad that I attracted a man that disrespectful and gross. What is it about me that says to guys, "There goes a girl that I can mistreat! Yay!" And how is it that I just can't tell right off the bat what these guys are about?
Having the teaspoon of confidence I have left consistently trampled on after the disaster that is P is just too much. It's exhausting, and I don't have the energy or the heart to go through it anymore. I know I say it all the time, but no more boys. They are truly bad for my spirit
Pads
I don't think I told you all this, but about a month ago I found myself at my neighborhood Target buying some pads. Nothing strange about that, right? However, I found myself perplexed. They have made those damn pad graphs on the back of the bag so damn hard to read that, after 13 years of pad purchasing, I had to ask someone for assistance!
I know what you are thinking: why didn't you just go by color? That is what I usually do. But the whole bag was different, I didn't know what was up. I wanted to make sure I was getting the right kind because, like I'm sure many of you would have been, I would have been PISSED if I got home with ultra thin overnights. YUCK!
Advise to the lady product companies: don't mess up a good thing. I was so irritated, I almost bought tampons! Maybe that was the marketing plan all along...
I know what you are thinking: why didn't you just go by color? That is what I usually do. But the whole bag was different, I didn't know what was up. I wanted to make sure I was getting the right kind because, like I'm sure many of you would have been, I would have been PISSED if I got home with ultra thin overnights. YUCK!
Advise to the lady product companies: don't mess up a good thing. I was so irritated, I almost bought tampons! Maybe that was the marketing plan all along...
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Looney
I think I may be losing my mind. I keep thinking I am hearing my cell phone ringing, but I'm not. Weird...
Weiner Pics, 7-Up, and Disrespect
The other day, as I was walking to the drug store to get some change, a 7-Up truck pulled up beside me and the driver said I was pretty, he asked for my number. I gave it to him. Mere seconds later, as I am in the drug store, he calls me. I tell him I will call him later that night.
Before later that night comes along he tests me to see if I am single and have kids. I do not reply, for I am working. He follows that text up, with a picture of his dick. Ladies and gents, the texts the morning after.
7-Up: U there?
Me: I didn't appreciate the picture you sent me. Please don't contact me anymore.
7-Up: Can I pay you?
Me: DON'T EVER CONTACT ME AGAIN OR I WILL CALL THE POLICE!!
7-Up: Whatever fat bitch u should b lucky I even came at u
So what is the lesson here kiddies? For the umpteenth time, I am over dudes! I keep saying I am, but who was it that said that trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is insane? Men don't like me, or they see something in me that tells them that they can come at me sideways like this. I can't handle it! I'm done, through. I have no confidence left from dealing with these losers, and it took years for me to gain it in the first place! I just need time to recover and lick my wounds. Then I will order a husband from overseas.
Before later that night comes along he tests me to see if I am single and have kids. I do not reply, for I am working. He follows that text up, with a picture of his dick. Ladies and gents, the texts the morning after.
7-Up: U there?
Me: I didn't appreciate the picture you sent me. Please don't contact me anymore.
7-Up: Can I pay you?
Me: DON'T EVER CONTACT ME AGAIN OR I WILL CALL THE POLICE!!
7-Up: Whatever fat bitch u should b lucky I even came at u
So what is the lesson here kiddies? For the umpteenth time, I am over dudes! I keep saying I am, but who was it that said that trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is insane? Men don't like me, or they see something in me that tells them that they can come at me sideways like this. I can't handle it! I'm done, through. I have no confidence left from dealing with these losers, and it took years for me to gain it in the first place! I just need time to recover and lick my wounds. Then I will order a husband from overseas.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Rude!
So today, I was walking downtown in an adorable A-line black cocktail dress and flats, headed to a movie screening, feeling myself because I was looking so amazing, when a girl that looked like Lil Wayne is black dress slacks with suspenders and a tie practically screamed in my ear, "Damn, you a bid bitch!"
So this girl happened to be walking with a tall guy and a girl and the girl said, "Don't say that." The she looks at me and goes, "Damn, that is a big bitch!"
Laughter. Walking past me.
These were teens and teens are NOTORIOUS assholes, but, needless to say, there went my mood.
I have come to a conclusion: no matter how comfy cozy I get with myself, there are going to be people that try to test that. Whether it be people I work with or disrespectful little shits on the street. It is just something I am going to have to get used to. I think this whole time I thought it would just stop when I got older because people mature and my true awesome would shine through. But not so. It doesn't matter if you are 10 or 110, people can be dill holes.
So this girl happened to be walking with a tall guy and a girl and the girl said, "Don't say that." The she looks at me and goes, "Damn, that is a big bitch!"
Laughter. Walking past me.
These were teens and teens are NOTORIOUS assholes, but, needless to say, there went my mood.
I have come to a conclusion: no matter how comfy cozy I get with myself, there are going to be people that try to test that. Whether it be people I work with or disrespectful little shits on the street. It is just something I am going to have to get used to. I think this whole time I thought it would just stop when I got older because people mature and my true awesome would shine through. But not so. It doesn't matter if you are 10 or 110, people can be dill holes.
Tats
Today, I sat across from a young man on the train who couldn't have been a day older than 19. And he had a tattoo of a pair of red lips on the side of his forehead amongst some other scribble.
He had on a short sleeved shirt on but, from what I could see of his arms, they were tatted heavily with spider webs.
I wanted to scream, "Young man, where are you going to get a job?!"
I wanted to scream the same thing in the face of the young pregnant woman on the train in booty shorts with died blond hair that had a huge tattoo on her neck.
I don't want tattoos myself, but I generally don't have a problem with them. I just think that the 90s babies (and it's always them, because they are crazy) need to realize that Lil' Wayne is a mess and quit it with the really, really visible tats! I mean, your face? There is no rhyme or reason to it. I don't even want my local fast food drive through person to have a tat on their face.
Sigh. I guess I am just old.
He had on a short sleeved shirt on but, from what I could see of his arms, they were tatted heavily with spider webs.
I wanted to scream, "Young man, where are you going to get a job?!"
I wanted to scream the same thing in the face of the young pregnant woman on the train in booty shorts with died blond hair that had a huge tattoo on her neck.
I don't want tattoos myself, but I generally don't have a problem with them. I just think that the 90s babies (and it's always them, because they are crazy) need to realize that Lil' Wayne is a mess and quit it with the really, really visible tats! I mean, your face? There is no rhyme or reason to it. I don't even want my local fast food drive through person to have a tat on their face.
Sigh. I guess I am just old.
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