Homecoming Post 2: The Flash

Much like the Dodo bird, I do not fly to travel. Yet, much like a snob, I do not take the bus. I have hair- raising memories of taking the bus back to college of sticky, icky people sneezing on me. So, when I found out that the train was about the same price, cleaner, and more comfortable, I was sold. I have fond memories of getting on the train, going to sleep in a half-empty rail car, and waking up at my destination refreshed. Those memories have been crushed. 

I am not sure what possessed me and my aunt to take the train to New Orleans. I am guessing it was the $35 ticket both ways. For some reason, the ride there wasn't the quick shot to the NOLA that I remember it being. I felt every moment of that 10hr ride. Every. Moment. It was long and crowded. Between sitting across from the bathroom and getting a whiff whenever someone opened the door to the sound of hungry people biting into Doritos, this ride was no ice cream sundae. However, the cherry on top was a drunk, elderly man flashing me his placid penis.

The moment this guy got on the train, I knew that he was drunk. He kept getting up to pee and he was mumbling to himself. When that got old, he began walking up and down the train, just being annoying. I was watching a movie on my phone when he waved his hands at me to ask if the seat across from me was taken. I told him no and went back to my movie. I was beyond ready to get off the train and did not want to talk to him. 

That didn't stop him from talking though, even though he saw me with my earphones on. I just nodded and smiled, listening to the movie. I randomly turned to my side and saw him smiling at me, pointing at his penis with one hand and shaking it with the other one. 

"HE FLASHED ME!" I yelled. He then got up from his seat and ran to the back of the train and put a COVID mask on as a disguise. When the train attendant talked to him, he said he didn't flash me. He just thought that he had recently contracted crabs and was inspecting himself. 🙄

This is the 4th time in my life I have been flashed, which leads me to ask this: what do men see when they see their junk? Rainbows? Magic? Cookies? I just have to assume it's something that they think the world's women want to see, the way they can't wait to show them! 

This was Wednesday night. The tone for homecoming was officially set. 

What is your #UltimateVegasOutfit?

When you plan a trip to one of the many Las Vegas Hotels , you also have to plan your #UltimateVegasOutfit so that you can show off your style on the Strip. Vegas is known for its beautiful water displays and huge pool areas but honestly, when I think of Vegas, I think of its sexy nightlife- the bars, clubs, shows, etc. So below is the ideal look I put together for a night out in Vegas, including this HOT little black number from Modcloth's plus size collection. What would be your #UltimateVegasOutfit?

Vegas is everyone's favorite summer getaway, and I was shocked to visit Vegas.com and see the amazing deals that they have on hotels and travel. I just assumed that a luxury trip to Vegas would break the bank, but I saw hotel rates as low as $61 a night, so I guess you know what I will be doing next summer;) Let me know if you make travel plans, and I look forward to seeing your ideal Vegas travel looks at #UltimateVegasOutfit.

Change of Scene

I love Atlanta, but I wonder if it is time for me to move.
I have thought about leaving the city, but not really thought about it if you know what I mean. But as of late, I have found myself getting increasingly impatient and bored with my surroundings. For example, I am going to DIE if I have to attend another "exclusive" party with 100 tall girls in short dresses on the arms of men who wear shades inside and scarves as necklaces.
I grew up here. The bulk of my childhood friends are here. I know the city like the back of my hand. However, I fear that if I do not leave-for school or work or otherwise-I will never leave. I will get married and have kids that never leave the East Point city limits, and that will make me want to hack myself!
I just yearn to feel excited about something new like I did when I arrived in New Orleans for school and like I do whenever I travel for my job. I don't know. This is just something that has been on my mind. Three months shy of my 26 birthday, I have a hankerin' for a new adventure.

Yay L.A.! 2

In hindsight, I have to say, L.A. was L.A.
I saw Eva Pigford and The Dream having lunch. Everyone had on heels but no one could walk in them. The days were unrealistically long. Riding the city bus made my crotch itch. On many occasions I needed directions, but no one knew English. I have to say, a good time was had.
At one point I got lost in L.A. In a heavily populated Korean area, no one could help me. I had to wait ten minutes for the first Black pedestrian to point me in the right direction. I got to ride the train in L.A., which was, in short, gross. The man who sat in front of me was so funky that my temples began to pulsate. Once off of the train, no one would tell me which way to head in but homeless people who demanded a dollar after giving me vague directions. I complied of course, afraid one of them would stab me with an AIDS needle.
On my way to the festival, I got off the bus in this very dingy area. I was sitting at the bus stop for a minute and a half before I realized that I was in a prostitution hotspot. I have seen prostitutes in Atlanta, and I guess hoes are hoes across the globe, but these looked and seemed particularly...violent. I kept my head down and my mouth closed, which is hard for me.
Ahhh, L.A. I can not wait for next year!

Yay L.A.!

So I am back to L.A. for this year's film festival. EXCITED! However, I have to say that I am annoyed by the Korean tourists in my hotel that look at me like I am the hugest person that they have ever seen, which may be true. When I get off the elevator, they stare at me with wide eyes and part like the Red Sea for me to pass by. They are speaking in a different language, but I know that they are commenting on me...because they are pointing! They were also watching me eat my cereal during breakfast. Tonight, when I go down to dinner, I am going to offer to let them squeeze my fat for a buck. I can use the extra dough.
Yesterday, when I was on the plane, I sat next to these cool drunk dudes from Louisiana. They slept for like 90% of the flight but when they woke up, they schooled me on The World Cup. Then, this random Hispanic older lady was walking to the bathroom, looked down at me, and tells me that she is "muy consada." I'm like, "I'm tired too" and she touched my face. Well, not so much touch, more like held. I know this sounds weird, but it felt nice. I thought she was going to kiss my forehead. She put me in mind of my grandma.

Tamp Stamped

Good news: I will soon be going to Miami! Bad news: I may have to wear a tampon.
Yikes! The idea gives me cramps! When I was in middle school, I attempted to wear one and in short, it was a complete disaster. Since then, I have flat out refused to try it again. What can I say? The whole idea creeps me out. Shoving a cotton stick up your vag? Call me old school, but I just can't wrap my mind around it.
My friend Jamaica thinks that I should grow up. "You are going to Miami! Are you really not going to get in the water just because you are on your period when you could just put on the damn tampon?"
Sounds about right.
"The day you put on a tampon will change your life. You will be like, give me my period all day and all night. One thing though: make sure you put it on as far as it will go or you will be able to feel it in you and that feels horrible."
I wanted to throw my phone across the room! Feel it in me?! Gross!
Waddles had a different idea. "Just go to the next pack." Apparently, she forgot that I am not on birth control.
Oh why oh why Period Gods do I have to get my period on the same week I am going to Miami?Why? You know that I have wanted to go ever since Will Smith made a song about it! Plus, I got this old lady swimsuit that I wanted to try on the waves. I've done my feet (which I hardly ever do). I'm ready! But unfortunately, whether I am on the waves or sitting up in my room looking at them is ALL dependent on whether I bite the bullet and plug it in.
This requires more thought, but I think we all know what direction I am leaning in. I mean, walking along the beach can be just as fun as going in the water...right?

NY: Day 2: Part 2

Not a good block away from Mr. Smith I bump into a relentless guy from Green Peace. He looked like a White, bearded Winnie the Pooh, and his boxers were all in a bunch because of this oil spill in the ocean (as they should be). So as I walk to my appointment, my face stone cold, he does not take the hint that I do not want to be spoken to. He begins rattling off facts about how he wants windmills in New York and how the oil has ruined the fish or something like that. I inform him that I have an appointment, but he insists that he can walk and copy my credit card number at the same time.
"Maybe next time," I mumble.
"Holly, there is no next time! We have run out of next times! Next times are over!"
I rolled my eyes. After the train ride from Hell where I was misdirected by a train official, I was in no mood to be harassed. I went to my appointment, then decided to walk around Grant Park, the home of the fashion week I had always wanted to attend. For some reason, I thought it would be bigger.
Somehow, although my feet were burning, I made my way to the world's chicest Payless where the only shoe they had in my size was a worn, twice returned pair of sneakers.
Irritated and hot, I took a seat in front of the NY Library which, for some reason, had a very depressing art display of angry words in the window like Ugly, Fat, and Weirdo. I guess that the irony is that these words were pretty and sparkly.

NY: Day 2: Part 1

I woke up, rolled over on my side, and smiled. I was in New York! Since graduation, I had been breaking my neck to get there, and there I was, in the middle of Chelsea, moments away from Time Square. I sat up straight in bed and stretched. That day was going to be a good day. I was in the city of dreams! Who cared about yesterday's dramas?
After getting dressed I decided to go get some lunch. I stopped at a Mexican restaurant where the burritos were almost $10. I stood, watching F.I.T. students scarf them down as I opted for the $5 chips and guacamole. I tried to maintain a smile, clutching my doggy bag of ten chips and 1/4 cup of gauc! I then went to Subway for a chicken sub, the meat being bland and dry.
That Monday it had rained, but Tuesday was beautiful. I couldn't help but smile at passersby, as they looked passed me or frowned like I had poop in my mouth. I have to say, after the 20th unreturned smile, my feelings were starting to get hurt! The people who did look my way looked terribly disgusted by my size, making sideways glances at my legs.
I went back to the room, ate the worst lunch of my life, then headed toward Bryant Park. I was given clear directions from the hostess at the hotel, only to be told by the subway worker that I was going the wrong way, only to get on the train and be told I was going in the opposite direction. So I got off the train and asked how to get to the other train just to run into three people who couldn't speak English. I have to say, this kicked me into annoyance mode.
As I climbed the steps of the subway, I was approached by a man who asked me how to get someplace. I let him know that I didn't know. He asked for my number. He didn't look crazy and was clean, so I gave it to him, only for him to begin calling me repeatedly ten minutes later. What can you expect from a man that called himself Mr. Smith because his first name was too hard to pronounce?

NY: Day 1

I am so happy to be writing you today, for on the plane to NY, I thought I was going to die! I could literally feel every gust of air that brushed against the plane. The lights were blinking on and off, and at one point, the plane felt like it had stopped midair! I would have kissed the ground when we landed...if it wasn't gross!
Upon arrival at Laguardia, I stood in line to use the two stall bathroom. Apparently, one woman had to go so bad that she felt it appropriate to unzip her paints in the line. Just my luck, I get to use the bathroom after The Incredible Shedding Woman. After thoroughly wiping the toilet, I could not help but to wonder if she had bothered to leave one pubic hair on her vag.
While trying to trek it to the hotel shuttle, some airport employee, whose job it is to direct people to the shuttles, stops me to say, "I'm not tryin' to be funny, but I don't think you should lose a damn ounce!" This guy is typical of men who find me attractive: African, short, and underweight. Eye roll. Then he goes on to quote his favorite comedian's line about "skinny bitches."
My ride on the shuttle from the airport was smooth until a fellow passenger and the driver got into a shouting match. Something about being afraid of getting charged twice.
While they yelled at each other, I found myself taken aback by the flashing lights of the city. How could something be so beautiful, while looking like it needed a thorough rinse? There was so much trash! And not litter, I mean huge bags!
Later that day, my homegirl invites me to go eat at her house. The catch: I have to take the subway. YUCK! The people who didn't look sick looked mean! With every cough and grunt, I could feel myself getting a temperature. The NY train system, although efficient, makes Marta, the Atlanta transit system, look like limo service.
On my way to the train, a street man told me I needed to lose weight...very loudly. He was selling belts out of a tattered luggage. I dodged into a Subway restaurant to avoid him and buy a tea, just to exit and run right into him face-to-face, yelling about how cute I was, but needed to "come down." He was willing to work out with me, he yelled in so many words. I ignored him, taking a sip of my tea, only to find that it was diet. Irony.
Today, I shall wonder the city. I shall let you know how that goes; what excitement I run into.

New York Nonsense

I went to CNN.com this morning and was informed that there was a car bomb in New York. A vendor spotted it, called the po-pos, and it was detonated at some other location. This contradicts the eye-witness report that it went off before the cops got there and people started fleeing the scene. But that is neither here nor there.
I will be traveling to NY in the near future. And I am pissed not only that years after 911 the New York people still have to worry about this crap, but that something has to be going down not long before I plan to visit! Cazillions of money spent on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and cars are being blown up on our soil? I thought we went to war to prevent this! There is something quite wrong with this picture.
So again, I solicit my readers to pray for me. I know I have asked you for your prayers like every day the past couple of weeks. Soon, I promise I will put you all on payroll. But I need you to pray that I not only can squeeze my sweet, obese ass in the plane seat, but also that there is not terrorist drama at all in the city, especially during my short stay. Or on the plane for that matter. I just want to go, take a bite out of The Big Apple, then return to the comfortable, safe south, too ignorant to even warrant the attention of terrorists, where I can eat grits and listen to Soulja Boy in the privacy of my own home.
Thanks guys!

Plane Pain

It is time for me to do the traveling for my job again, and it's back to the same ol' bullshit. The other day I worked the elliptical so hard to burn some fat before my flight that I felt like I was going to throw up! I don't think that I have gained weight. I can still fit all my old clothes, but that doesn't say anything. By the grace of God I am still able to SQUEEZE into this T-shirt I got in the 8th grade.
Oh, woe is me! I hate having to worry about this! I can't honestly say that I hate being fat. Probably because it's all I know and because I'm really cute. But I do hate some of the bull that comes with it, like not being able to buy cute, cheap bras from Wal-Mart and having to worry about being kicked off planes.
My friends have told me not to worry about it because I got on last year, no problems. But it's still a scary thought, and unfortunately, they simply are not in the position to even wrap their sweet heads around it.
So I solicit my readers to pray for me! Pay that come Thursday morn', I get on that plane no matter how bad it HURTS, no one gives me any shit, and I have a fun and safe trip. Thanks bunches, and I will let you know either way.

Snow, Snow Go Away

I should be on an Amtrak train right now, snacking on a bag of nine dollar Doritos and trying not to think about how badly I have to pee; I should be on my way to New Orleans. But instead, I am here, sitting at my computer and watching The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood for the 900th time, wishing I was sipping on a hand grenade.
Have you ever just felt like you belonged someplace? You just went somewhere and felt like you didn't understand why you weren't there all along? That is how I feel about New Orleans, even though I have little to nothing in common with the people of the city. But just being there, even in the bad areas, makes me happy- makes me just want to lie on the ground and draw and write poetry. The whole place encourages creativity, from the vibrant color pattern of the city and everyone's clothing to its old world charm. I even miss the bittersweet smell of piss and puke and spilled beer, especially living in Atlanta, a city that is quickly becoming a haven for the super rich, super gay, super chic, super saditty, and super obnoxious. Don't get me wrong, I love the A and it's beautiful array of wannabes, but I have found that if you stay here too long, you will literally begin to choke on everyone's designer labels and demo CDs.
So the snow is melting rapidly, and tomorrow, I will be back on my way to the N.O. where the air is dirty and everyone has an attitude. Ahh, it's like leaving home to visit a fairytale.