I can't tell you what it is that I like about trumpet players. All I can say is that it the attraction is present and strong.
On Friday my friend Connie and I went to this music night at a salon in East Point. In short, it was pretty amazing. There was wine and Hawaiian punch. It was really a beautiful evening; a welcome smoke-free weekend outing that didn't involve being on a VIP list or standing in a line. Anywho, there was a live band and a soul singer. She was great, but I just could not take my eyes off the trumpet player.
Amongst the men in the room who were married or short or wearing thermals two sizes too small, he shined like a diamond. He wasn't extra fine or flashy, just a brotha in his late 20s in a brown v-neck and jeans (that weren't skinny and didn't sag). Watching him handle that trumpet, I just knew he was probably a good kisser; a good dancer. The salon owner said he was single, but I didn't approach. I didn't really like my outfit that night, and my fro was a bit flat.
Why are women attracted to musicians? Is it because we assume their lives are full of adventure? Their dedication to their art, even if it results in poverty? Their poetic essence? Clearly, my infatuation with them is something I could stand to get rid of, seeing that every one I have ever liked has dogged me.
But that was furthest from my mind on Friday, watching Trumpet Man do his end of the set solo. It was electric! What I would have done to be that mouth piece...
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
A-Town Obnoxious
If I was not from Atlanta, I do not know if I could live here, because I have to live in a place where I have a solid, trustworthy friend circle, and I could not see myself befriending Atlanta's new pretty pretty saditty girl.
I grew up in the old Atlanta where old people spoke to you and kids were only sort of bad. The Atlanta where you licked honeysuckle from bushes during recess and ate noodle soup on your porch. I have to say, I have made friends for life growing up in this city.
But when I look around myself, I see women who are unfamiliar to me. And not unfamiliar as in I don't know them, but unfamiliar as in not like the Atlanta woman I am used to. They are either so ghetto you fear that if you compliment their shoes in the club bathroom line they will shoot you in the face or so obnoxious that they may laugh at you for thinking for a moment that they would speak to you.
Ironically enough, these women do not differ in style. You can see the white tips on their nails in the dark. Handbag dangling from wrist. More blush on their cheeks than Barbie. Chewing gum in stilettos and leggings. They are totally unapproachable and intimidating. They are like really pretty bad dreams.
I don't like calling myself a Georgia Peach because I was not born here, although I have lived here for most of my life. But I come from a school of Atlanta women that is not afraid to make her own biscuit mix. The Atlanta woman who keeps stamps in her wallet and calls women older than her ma'am...NO MATTER HOW YOUNG THEY THINK THEY ARE (that's a big one).
Sigh. When will people realize that you can't be southern without the hospitality?
I grew up in the old Atlanta where old people spoke to you and kids were only sort of bad. The Atlanta where you licked honeysuckle from bushes during recess and ate noodle soup on your porch. I have to say, I have made friends for life growing up in this city.
But when I look around myself, I see women who are unfamiliar to me. And not unfamiliar as in I don't know them, but unfamiliar as in not like the Atlanta woman I am used to. They are either so ghetto you fear that if you compliment their shoes in the club bathroom line they will shoot you in the face or so obnoxious that they may laugh at you for thinking for a moment that they would speak to you.
Ironically enough, these women do not differ in style. You can see the white tips on their nails in the dark. Handbag dangling from wrist. More blush on their cheeks than Barbie. Chewing gum in stilettos and leggings. They are totally unapproachable and intimidating. They are like really pretty bad dreams.
I don't like calling myself a Georgia Peach because I was not born here, although I have lived here for most of my life. But I come from a school of Atlanta women that is not afraid to make her own biscuit mix. The Atlanta woman who keeps stamps in her wallet and calls women older than her ma'am...NO MATTER HOW YOUNG THEY THINK THEY ARE (that's a big one).
Sigh. When will people realize that you can't be southern without the hospitality?
Loveless Distressed Mess
Today I talked to Curious George for like an hour.
It was refreshing talking to a boy, seeing that Sorta gave me the kick after Mardi Gras (which sucks by the way, because I had been planning for how long to kick him first?) and the boy that I was kind of crushin' on gave me the "let's be friends" line. Sadly, after not talking to him for so long, I feel like he is not as smitten by me as he once was. What is the point of talking to him if he is not 100% taken away by me anymore?
So back to single, lonely, depressing square one. Grossie-Rossie, I really do not want to be here again. My grandmother told me when I was in college that if I did not find a man there, I would probably never get married. Now, almost a full three years after graduation, I am scared that she might have been right. And the daily Facebook updates announcing engagements from people who met in college is more evidence that Granny was on to something. This saddens me. At 18 I was too drunk to see that I was on stage to meet my other half! If I would have known, I might have done my hair!
I am just feeling hopeless in the realm of my love life. I don't want to go on another dating site. I don't want to meet another one of my friends' male friends who evidently is in love with my friend but is playing along to be a good sport. I don't want to pretend to be flattered by boys I meet in the streets who "like big girls" and whose conversations circle around those hard life topics such as whether or not Tupac is really alive, whether or not Niki Minaj has a fake booty, or if weed really does burn your brain cells until you become a genius.
Yes, I am emotional, and I can not tell if it is because I am on my period or if it is because I am as lonely as my body is telling me that I am. Either way, I think I will get to work on this pint of Edy's and watch The Golden Girls.
It was refreshing talking to a boy, seeing that Sorta gave me the kick after Mardi Gras (which sucks by the way, because I had been planning for how long to kick him first?) and the boy that I was kind of crushin' on gave me the "let's be friends" line. Sadly, after not talking to him for so long, I feel like he is not as smitten by me as he once was. What is the point of talking to him if he is not 100% taken away by me anymore?
So back to single, lonely, depressing square one. Grossie-Rossie, I really do not want to be here again. My grandmother told me when I was in college that if I did not find a man there, I would probably never get married. Now, almost a full three years after graduation, I am scared that she might have been right. And the daily Facebook updates announcing engagements from people who met in college is more evidence that Granny was on to something. This saddens me. At 18 I was too drunk to see that I was on stage to meet my other half! If I would have known, I might have done my hair!
I am just feeling hopeless in the realm of my love life. I don't want to go on another dating site. I don't want to meet another one of my friends' male friends who evidently is in love with my friend but is playing along to be a good sport. I don't want to pretend to be flattered by boys I meet in the streets who "like big girls" and whose conversations circle around those hard life topics such as whether or not Tupac is really alive, whether or not Niki Minaj has a fake booty, or if weed really does burn your brain cells until you become a genius.
Yes, I am emotional, and I can not tell if it is because I am on my period or if it is because I am as lonely as my body is telling me that I am. Either way, I think I will get to work on this pint of Edy's and watch The Golden Girls.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Competition Burn Out
Can I just say that I am tired of competing?!
In grade school I had to compete for friends with girls who always brought candy to class and threw cool birthday parties. In middle school I had to compete for a boyfriend amongst girls with dookie braids and fat booties, just to end up with the boy who later confessed to being gay. Now, in the workplace, I find myself competing with a woman who is not even qualified for my position. But I am one to give credit when credit is due. She is pretty. And she might be dating my boss.
Question: Can a sweet chub like myself catch a break?
I am guessing that the answer is no, because as a new arrival on the corporate scene, this sort of thing happens around me, if not to me, all the time. Does no one value substance and criterion anymore?
I already know the answer to that one. Just blowing off steam.
In grade school I had to compete for friends with girls who always brought candy to class and threw cool birthday parties. In middle school I had to compete for a boyfriend amongst girls with dookie braids and fat booties, just to end up with the boy who later confessed to being gay. Now, in the workplace, I find myself competing with a woman who is not even qualified for my position. But I am one to give credit when credit is due. She is pretty. And she might be dating my boss.
Question: Can a sweet chub like myself catch a break?
I am guessing that the answer is no, because as a new arrival on the corporate scene, this sort of thing happens around me, if not to me, all the time. Does no one value substance and criterion anymore?
I already know the answer to that one. Just blowing off steam.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
How Annoying...
Yesterday I was at my neighborhood Wal-Mart, trying to balance pushing my cart through the pastry section while munching on a McDouble when a random woman shouted from over by the fruits, "Hey, where did I just see you at?!"
Everyone looked in her direction, but she pointed at me. Of course, this did not mean that Wal-Mart lost interest in the conversation.
"Umm..." I was lost. I had never seen this woman, dressed in a hot pink jumpsuit and Coach visor, in my life! Apparently, she knew me.
"Didn't you just leave the gym and now you are eating that? You are defeating the purpose!" she yelled to me, in front of a bunch of fellow shoppers. I shoved the burger in my mouth so I could adequately push the cart and hauled ass!
Earlier that day, at the gym, I decided to walk back and forth in the pool when I was approached by an old lady. She had on a floaty, a foam noodle, goggles, a swim cap, and those fish fin hand things, all to walk back and forth in 3 feet of water. She walks over to me, interrupting my groove, to tell me about a health fair she is putting on at the mall. "You should come!" she insists. "They are going to have free Diabetes screenings!"
Just when I thought there was no more room for any more annoying folks in the water, here came a woman I have affectionately named "Weavey." She claims to be a hairstylist, but whenever I see her, she has on a horrible hairpiece that is clearly ripping the hair from her temples. She also looks like the wife from The PJs. Anywho, she gets in the pool and the first thing out of her mouth is, "You have been going here so long! I would have expected you to be smaller by now." I put on my fake smile, the one where my teeth don't touch, as she goes on and on about how I would like the Adkins's Diet. She was on it years ago, lost 50 lbs, gained it back, now she is on it again. She had just started last week and had lost 3 whole pounds already!
Idiots, plain and simple.
Everyone looked in her direction, but she pointed at me. Of course, this did not mean that Wal-Mart lost interest in the conversation.
"Umm..." I was lost. I had never seen this woman, dressed in a hot pink jumpsuit and Coach visor, in my life! Apparently, she knew me.
"Didn't you just leave the gym and now you are eating that? You are defeating the purpose!" she yelled to me, in front of a bunch of fellow shoppers. I shoved the burger in my mouth so I could adequately push the cart and hauled ass!
Earlier that day, at the gym, I decided to walk back and forth in the pool when I was approached by an old lady. She had on a floaty, a foam noodle, goggles, a swim cap, and those fish fin hand things, all to walk back and forth in 3 feet of water. She walks over to me, interrupting my groove, to tell me about a health fair she is putting on at the mall. "You should come!" she insists. "They are going to have free Diabetes screenings!"
Just when I thought there was no more room for any more annoying folks in the water, here came a woman I have affectionately named "Weavey." She claims to be a hairstylist, but whenever I see her, she has on a horrible hairpiece that is clearly ripping the hair from her temples. She also looks like the wife from The PJs. Anywho, she gets in the pool and the first thing out of her mouth is, "You have been going here so long! I would have expected you to be smaller by now." I put on my fake smile, the one where my teeth don't touch, as she goes on and on about how I would like the Adkins's Diet. She was on it years ago, lost 50 lbs, gained it back, now she is on it again. She had just started last week and had lost 3 whole pounds already!
Idiots, plain and simple.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Blast from the Past
I HATE JOB INTERVIEWS!
I am that person that will probably have the same job forever simply because I will not want to interview for another one. I hate those weird questions that you want to answer honestly but can't because there is that "acceptable" answer that you know they want to hear. "What would your last employer say is your worst quality?" asks the interviewer and you are thinking, lying, stealing, consistent tardiness, sleeping on the job, bad customer service skills, inability to complete a task, a short temper, laziness...But you say in your false, chipper voice, "Well David, that would be working too hard!"
Please. The whole thing is a joke.
Yesterday I had an interview for a PT gig doing administrative work. It seemed that every woman in Atlanta was there with their creased black slacks and pointy-toed shoes. It was raining cats and dogs. My resume was soaked and my flats were soggy. I tried to maintain a positive attitude, but I was not there three minutes before I was ready to go.
Then I saw him.
The interviewer walked into the lobby, requesting the next group of applicants, and I got a pang in my chest. I knew this guy. His gelled hair and khaki pants gave me a flashback to those ever- so-horrible high school days. I could see him in the hallway kissing his girlfriend, in the cafeteria talking with friends. I ALWAYS forget names, but I never forget a face.
My stomach was tight. Let's just say that those four years of high school were not my finest hour. If this guy remembered me remotely, I was definitely not getting the job.
So it is my turn in the group interview and I am looking him up and down. My stomach is so tight that I am praying I don't fart when he asks me my name and skills. But I looked and him, I mean really looked at him, and relaxed. He wasn't the guy I had mistaken him for. No, that guy was younger and skinnier. I didn't remember him wearing glasses either. I sat up confidently. Everything was good. Name, check. Skills, check. Round one, check.
When it was my turn again, he looked over my resume for a rather long time. The gassy feeling came back. He looked up at me and said, "I knew you looked familiar. I see here we went to the same high school."
"Yeah we did!" Fake excitement. I was mortified.
"That was so long ago, a different time," he says.
This, of course, caused me to stumble during the rest of the interview. Afterwards, I grabbed my damp belongings and ran back into the rain. I could not get out of there quick enough. I got an education just to end up being interviewed by someone from high school?! Ewww! I wanted to drop dead.
I guess what scared me the most is that I have done a good job of avoiding my old high school peers. Besides the ones that I still talk to, I rarely run into them. Seeing him forced me to realize that high school was not a bad dream, it actually happened, and those gremlins I once pep rallied with are still alive and roaming the Earth. This particular guy never did me any harm but still, if he was around, who else was out there? Honestly, I don't want to think about it.
I am that person that will probably have the same job forever simply because I will not want to interview for another one. I hate those weird questions that you want to answer honestly but can't because there is that "acceptable" answer that you know they want to hear. "What would your last employer say is your worst quality?" asks the interviewer and you are thinking, lying, stealing, consistent tardiness, sleeping on the job, bad customer service skills, inability to complete a task, a short temper, laziness...But you say in your false, chipper voice, "Well David, that would be working too hard!"
Please. The whole thing is a joke.
Yesterday I had an interview for a PT gig doing administrative work. It seemed that every woman in Atlanta was there with their creased black slacks and pointy-toed shoes. It was raining cats and dogs. My resume was soaked and my flats were soggy. I tried to maintain a positive attitude, but I was not there three minutes before I was ready to go.
Then I saw him.
The interviewer walked into the lobby, requesting the next group of applicants, and I got a pang in my chest. I knew this guy. His gelled hair and khaki pants gave me a flashback to those ever- so-horrible high school days. I could see him in the hallway kissing his girlfriend, in the cafeteria talking with friends. I ALWAYS forget names, but I never forget a face.
My stomach was tight. Let's just say that those four years of high school were not my finest hour. If this guy remembered me remotely, I was definitely not getting the job.
So it is my turn in the group interview and I am looking him up and down. My stomach is so tight that I am praying I don't fart when he asks me my name and skills. But I looked and him, I mean really looked at him, and relaxed. He wasn't the guy I had mistaken him for. No, that guy was younger and skinnier. I didn't remember him wearing glasses either. I sat up confidently. Everything was good. Name, check. Skills, check. Round one, check.
When it was my turn again, he looked over my resume for a rather long time. The gassy feeling came back. He looked up at me and said, "I knew you looked familiar. I see here we went to the same high school."
"Yeah we did!" Fake excitement. I was mortified.
"That was so long ago, a different time," he says.
This, of course, caused me to stumble during the rest of the interview. Afterwards, I grabbed my damp belongings and ran back into the rain. I could not get out of there quick enough. I got an education just to end up being interviewed by someone from high school?! Ewww! I wanted to drop dead.
I guess what scared me the most is that I have done a good job of avoiding my old high school peers. Besides the ones that I still talk to, I rarely run into them. Seeing him forced me to realize that high school was not a bad dream, it actually happened, and those gremlins I once pep rallied with are still alive and roaming the Earth. This particular guy never did me any harm but still, if he was around, who else was out there? Honestly, I don't want to think about it.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Holly and the Threeway?
When I was in high school, I found myself in an awkward yet comfortable girlmance with my BFF Selena. It was shameless, I mean shameless. I am shocked that no one thought that we were dating, seeing that I was more than over excited to be around her all the time.
Yet, while I was in college, our lives began to go in different directions. She joined the military and recently had a baby. The adorable pics of her daughter that pop up on my Facebook news feed helped me realize that it had been ages since I had really talked to her. I decided that a movie date was in order and set one up. I have to say that we both seemed really excited about it, sending each other those cutsie "can't wait to see you" texts. I felt like I was going on a real date, even though her husband was tagging along.
Yes, her husband. Selena is married. And I have to say, I had never been excited about him. And not just because of the girlmance either, but because he was overprotective and annoying. But what the Hell, right? Catching up with Selena was the important thing.
Moments after I arrived at the theatre there was Selena, gorgeous as ever. She was a good 40lbs heavier than she was in high school with ENORMOUS boobs, both courtesy of the baby. And shockingly, her once awkward hubby was all confident and hot. I mean hot ya'll.
Anywho, the "date" went well. After the movie we lingered in the theatre talking, and the ride home was riddled with light-hearted convo about porn. It was really...romantic.
Right before I got out of the car there was this feeling. I liken it to the one that you get before they change scenes in a porno from talking on the couch to screwing in a rented mansion's master bedroom. I sat there a sec, looking at the two of them, seriously pondering whether or not I had enough game to get hubby to put the car in reverse so we could go rent a room somewhere. I didn't ask. Instead, I accepted a warm hug from hubby and a sweet kiss on the hand from Selena. I would be lying if I said I was not masterminding another "movie date." Hopefully, by the next one, my game will be up :)
Yet, while I was in college, our lives began to go in different directions. She joined the military and recently had a baby. The adorable pics of her daughter that pop up on my Facebook news feed helped me realize that it had been ages since I had really talked to her. I decided that a movie date was in order and set one up. I have to say that we both seemed really excited about it, sending each other those cutsie "can't wait to see you" texts. I felt like I was going on a real date, even though her husband was tagging along.
Yes, her husband. Selena is married. And I have to say, I had never been excited about him. And not just because of the girlmance either, but because he was overprotective and annoying. But what the Hell, right? Catching up with Selena was the important thing.
Moments after I arrived at the theatre there was Selena, gorgeous as ever. She was a good 40lbs heavier than she was in high school with ENORMOUS boobs, both courtesy of the baby. And shockingly, her once awkward hubby was all confident and hot. I mean hot ya'll.
Anywho, the "date" went well. After the movie we lingered in the theatre talking, and the ride home was riddled with light-hearted convo about porn. It was really...romantic.
Right before I got out of the car there was this feeling. I liken it to the one that you get before they change scenes in a porno from talking on the couch to screwing in a rented mansion's master bedroom. I sat there a sec, looking at the two of them, seriously pondering whether or not I had enough game to get hubby to put the car in reverse so we could go rent a room somewhere. I didn't ask. Instead, I accepted a warm hug from hubby and a sweet kiss on the hand from Selena. I would be lying if I said I was not masterminding another "movie date." Hopefully, by the next one, my game will be up :)
The Dating Game
I am totally crushin' on my friend Koya's cousin.
It's so refreshing for me to be in an "I think you're interesting and cute" crush, seeing that usually I skip this step and crash into full-blown love.
My feelings for him sprouted innocently enough at Koya's birthday dinner last year. I saw him and immediately labeled him as fine: brown, medium build, dreadlocks. But when he let it slip that he was a fan of the Punany Poets, my absolute favorite nude poetry troupe, I almost did a high kick. Plus, he kept the pictures of Sangria coming on his tab. That was a definite plus.
After seeing him last weekend, I decided that I like him enough to ask him out on a date. And no, I have never done this, but after watching him take Crown to the head in my friend's best friend's beau's kitchenette, it just felt like the right thing to do.
All my PrettyPrettyPrincess friends are stone cold against this. They do not believe that a girl should EVER ask out a man. Essentially, they all agreed that it gives the guy permission to go into the relationship as a moocher and makes the girl look desperate. They all suggested that I just flirt with him hella hard until he asks me out, but seeing that the world is ending in 2012, I simply don't have that kind of time.
I have a really good knack for not bullshitting myself. Unfortunately, I am not the type of looker that can sit on her porch in the hot Georgia sun waining through gentleman callers. I discovered in Kindergarten that I was going to have to wear my personality on my sleeve as to not get overlooked for girls with fresh L.A. Gears, dimples, and long Just For Me saturated ponytails. I am not generally shy, but I can be when it comes to men, and if I don't become proactive in my love life, I will be 40 and alone with a cobweb adorned vagina!
So with some encouraging words from some guy pals, I put Koya on the case to see what type of girl her cousin is into. If he only spends his time with Keri Hilson body doubles then I will just let the crush drop. Hopefully, we can at least go out once so that I can force him to put out after I pay for dinner. I am not sure if any of this will pan out, but I will definitely keep you posted.
It's so refreshing for me to be in an "I think you're interesting and cute" crush, seeing that usually I skip this step and crash into full-blown love.
My feelings for him sprouted innocently enough at Koya's birthday dinner last year. I saw him and immediately labeled him as fine: brown, medium build, dreadlocks. But when he let it slip that he was a fan of the Punany Poets, my absolute favorite nude poetry troupe, I almost did a high kick. Plus, he kept the pictures of Sangria coming on his tab. That was a definite plus.
After seeing him last weekend, I decided that I like him enough to ask him out on a date. And no, I have never done this, but after watching him take Crown to the head in my friend's best friend's beau's kitchenette, it just felt like the right thing to do.
All my PrettyPrettyPrincess friends are stone cold against this. They do not believe that a girl should EVER ask out a man. Essentially, they all agreed that it gives the guy permission to go into the relationship as a moocher and makes the girl look desperate. They all suggested that I just flirt with him hella hard until he asks me out, but seeing that the world is ending in 2012, I simply don't have that kind of time.
I have a really good knack for not bullshitting myself. Unfortunately, I am not the type of looker that can sit on her porch in the hot Georgia sun waining through gentleman callers. I discovered in Kindergarten that I was going to have to wear my personality on my sleeve as to not get overlooked for girls with fresh L.A. Gears, dimples, and long Just For Me saturated ponytails. I am not generally shy, but I can be when it comes to men, and if I don't become proactive in my love life, I will be 40 and alone with a cobweb adorned vagina!
So with some encouraging words from some guy pals, I put Koya on the case to see what type of girl her cousin is into. If he only spends his time with Keri Hilson body doubles then I will just let the crush drop. Hopefully, we can at least go out once so that I can force him to put out after I pay for dinner. I am not sure if any of this will pan out, but I will definitely keep you posted.
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