It Ain’t Gonna Happen… Move On…

I’ve tried keeping this down in the depths of my soul – but I CANNOT take it anymore… I’m not saying I’m a Skinny Minnie by any means. I CAN tell you that being a human being; as you all are you probably try to judge whether or not you can fit between 2 people or comfortably sit next to someone… Naturally I’m looking for a rail thin Asian woman or a small old lady to sit next to. That’s my jackpot. I can’t stand sitting next to men – I mean seriously, your balls are NOT THAT BIG, no matter what the hooker told you. Close your legs, it’s annoying. I can’t stand sitting next to someone & feel their body heat; it disgusts me. If someone gets up, I cannot immediately sit in the seat they’ve just vacated. It grosses me out to feel other people’s butt warmth, I can’t even feel Victor’s or my Mom’s; you feel me? So yes, these are the neurotic things that bother me (amongst a million others). But as I said earlier; we judge whether or not we’ll “fit” into a space. I, my friends, have unfortunately encountered 2 people (women) who do not share my same size assessment…

I took the bus the other day ~ you know how I feel about these buses – they are the Lap of Luxury… truly. The ones that have their own air vents for each passenger, a cool little light you can point towards yourself if need be, the crazy leg room & the reclining chairs. I got on this heavenly transportation the other day & as Victor & I found we try to be welcoming to people that we find desirable to sit next to & try to be unwelcoming to others. LOL, I’m trying to send out some Psychic Friends Network vibes to all the anorexic people, to all the sweet smelling people & deter all the body odor loving, snorers, seat takerovers I can… well, it didn’t work this dreadful day. A woman decided to sit on; excuse me NEXT to me. I can tell you from my personal experience, I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt whether or not the junk in my trunk will fit into a space or not… I just know it & if I think there’s a chance I’ll pop out from the sheer force of being squeezed into somewhere I’m not going to risk it, I’ll stand. This woman had no such sense. Well, she had enough sense to lift the arm rest to allow herself room to get into the seat as she sat on half of my thigh & upper right ass cheek, but then this woman had the sheer balls to put the arm rest D.O.W.N. – thus squeezing us closer together. Again, my hips don’t lie… just because you will your ass to be smaller or your body to be skinnier does not mean it’s going to happen TRUST ME, I’VE TRIED IT… IT DOESN’T WORK unfortunately L!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had to wedge my left hip & ass cheek under my arm rest & even adjusted myself in vain as to alert my fellow passenger to how uncomfortable she’s making me (usually it works – but not that day) L So I wasn’t even able to play with my iPod or sleep because I was uncomfortable & her f’n arm kept slipping & hitting me in the arm while she was sleeping. WTF?!

Yesterday I was stuck with the same unfortunate plight… I got unto the train into a 3 seater; now you must know that I take a gamble… the gamble is I could be stuck in a 3 seater with actually 3 people instead of the standard 2 – hey, it happens. But again, I was stuck with a woman that knew VERY WELL that she couldn’t fit between us. But she gave it a valiant effort & at the same time made sure I was extremely uncomfortable. I was contorted in my chair; cursing the fact that I sat in a 3 seater (although this could very well happen in a 2 seater as well), she was also reading a newspaper!!!!!!!! Lady!!!!!!!!!!! I can’t even breathe in deeply & fully expand my ribs & you’re leafing through a f’n newspaper?! Seriously?! The air conditioning was on, but oddly enough the air vents under the windows were on fire!!! I sat & suffered for 2 stops & 20 minutes. But finally, a beam of light shone down from Heaven (thanks Nani) & a person 3 rows in front of me got off @ the stop. I saw my chance for freedom & quickly said “Excuse Me” & made the ladies get up & quickly scooted my big, wide ass into a brand spanking open air seat (with complimentary butt warmth *yuk* - but welcomed it with open arms).

I’m seriously contemplating just sitting on the floor or standing from now on. I’ll let you know how it goes.

WTF of The Day

That's right kids... it is time for ANOTHER WTF of The Day... This time, I'm going after smokers - cigarette smokers to be exact. Now, I've never been a smoker, so I'll NEVER be able to relate the dependency that sometimes comes with smoking (if you're a smoker stop being an idiot!!! You're killing yourself & paying to do it :))

It annoys the excrement out of me when I am walking to work & the asshole in front of me is puffing on a cigarette, now, I know, it is a free country & people can smoke outside. But seriously?! I am so tired of you blowing the smoke outta your blowhole & directly into my face, that just makes me want to run in front of you & punch you in the throat. If I was a smoker, I'd try my very hardest to blow down (yes, I know wind is a factor)... but c'mon. It's disgusting. You choose to kill your body - it's your perrogative. But I'm so tired of getting smoke blown into my face & having to pay for your decision.

That is all for now. LOL :) Whew, I feel better...

WTF of The Day

My WTF of the day is dedicated to my Husband & his friend... my Goochie... as you know Easter just passed & my Mother is under very strict instructions to make an Easter Basket for me every... single... year... Even when we have children - SHE MUST MAKE ME AN EASTER BASKET!!!

So cool, Maaaaa & Dad, hook me up this year with very cool things - amongst it are my most FAVORITE chocolates on the face of the Planet Earth. EVER.

The name of these chocolates are Cadbury Mini Eggs - they come out ONCE a year JUST for Easter. My Mom filled plastic eggs with the eggs - Athena is a very happy camper.

We get home & leave the basket downstairs for the time being. I head off to work the next morning being fully aware the Best House Husband in the world will take care of this by the time I get home. Much to my pleasure he emptied out all of the plastic eggs & put my precious cargo (chocolate eggs) into a Ziploc Snack Bag...

Now I realize something. My Mother, my own flesh & blood did NOT give me as much chocolate as she said she did... MY OWN MOTHER LIED TO ME!!!

So, as I said earlier Luis comes over & we're all drinking. Victor decides to be a good host & has the audacity, the balls, the nerve to whip out the TINY Ziploc Snack Bag of my precious Cadbury Mini Eggs & Luis & Victor proceed to ravage this tiny bag by sticking their big boy hands in it & proceeding to gobble up a few at a time. These boys are tossing my chocolates (that I get only once a year) back as if they were popcorn or Hershey's Kisses. At first, I thought Victor would understand I wasn't aboard this train & the chocolates needed to go away. Stat. Now. Pronto. My dirty looks proceeded & after a while he got the hint. But can you believe it?! Can you believe he ate my chocolate?! Yeah, marriage is about sacrifice, love, honesty, etc. But not once have I ever seen anything written about sharing my Cadbury Mini Eggs. Next time, his hands are being chopped off!!! WTF?!?!

The Hair Nazi

OK, so this pic is of Tabatha Coffey from Bravo's "Tabatha's Salon Takeover". Now that I really sit back & think of it. I think perhaps she is the one I ran into... but then, it couldn't have been... my Quiz Show Host HAD to be from Germany.
About 4 years back or so, I went to the bank with my friend Catherine to go cash her paycheck - no bitch didn't owe me money. I was just accompanying her :) LOL, so Cath-e-rine goes up to the counter to start her banking transaction & I figure I'm gonna take a load off & sit on some of the chairs in the lobby area. Out of nowhere this white haird lady (reference picture above) begins to stare at me. I mean staring as if she saw me on a Wanted (Dead or Aliiiiiiiive Poster). She walks up to me & already *groan* I know what this convo is going to be about. So it begins, with her think German accent... she begins asking me about my hair...
Wait, before I begin, try & say this to yourself in the most German accent you can gather within yourself... OK? OK. And also, keep in mind, after EVERY SINGLE THING SHE SAYS SHE MAKES THIS FACE...

Keep it in mind... it is CENTRAL for the journey I'm about to take you on...

Hair Nazi: Hello
Me: Hi
Hair Nazi: I have a question for you.
Me: OK
Hair Nazi: Is that your hair?
Me: Yes
Hair Nazi: Yours?
Me: Yes
Hair Nazi: You got this style from somewhere?
Me: No
Hair Nazi: How did you get it?
Me: ::pause:: IT'S MINE
Hair Nazi: Well, what do you put in it?
Me: Gel, Hair Spray & I diffuse it
Hair Nazi: NO! What do you put in it? What kind of product?
Me: ::taken aback:: Ummm, Biolage
Hair Nazi: Really? That's it? :: evil laugh under breath:: I don't believe you...
Me: ::about to smack a bitch up:: OK...
Hair Nazi: I don't believe you. How do you do it? How often do you do it?
Me: ::divulge my trade secrets:: about once a week
Hair Nazi: I don't believe you... What do you use again? ::in the most aggressive manner::

Bitch was straight up quizzing me!!!

Me: I told you
Hair Nazi: Well, I can't believe it. I'm a stylist & when women come in to see me they say they want your hair & I can't do that. I can't believe you can.

Now... I begin laughing to myself, mystified by the fact that German women are strolling into Helga's House of Hair demanding to have my curls... IN GERMANY!!!!!!!!! Is she kidding me? I can't imagine seeing Helga strolling down the street with this dead carcass on my head... so now I don't believe her.

Me: Well, I CAN

She got over it & Catherine was done with her banking transaction so I told her good luck & left her there stupified... she probably still talks of me & my hair as if I was an apparition... like I was an oasis. LOL, no one will ever believe the tale of "The Woman with the Gorgeous Hair"

Yes, I Know... My Hair is Gorgeous...

I have been complimented so much on this wool blanket that lays on my head a.k.a. my hair for a long time now & I welcome & so appreciate the compliments; as I was teased for many a year about it. But I’m over that now… I really am. But easy… don’t be so brave to make jokes. LOL, so I get sincere compliments accompanied by amazement mostly. Once a black woman (you know how much a good weave is treasured) truly asked me “Gurl, your hair is gorgeous, where’d you get it?” I told her “It’s Mine” she said “Gurl, trust me, I know it’s yours… but where’d you get it?” and I told her “No, seriously, it’s my hair, I didn’t buy it, it’s my hair, it’s real”. Some have told me this is the ultimate compliment… to be asked by a weave master where I got my hair. I guess I can see their point, but then it makes me think… damn! Does everyone assume I’m walking around with fake hair?! I've had people ask if I truly sit down & use a curling iron for each curl... are you fucking kidding me? Does that even sound like a logical question to you lady? Can you imagine?! Could you truly imagine? I've had complete strangers just bust out & grab my hair!!!!!!!! A COMPLETE stranger!!! And their response when I look back at them is... "I'm so sorry, I just had to touch it" followed by a corny smile greeted with a dirty look from me. I mean, that's basically the equivalent to me walking up to a large boobed woman grabbing a tittay & saying "So sorry, I just had to touch it". Who the? What the? Most people though (strangers) will try to break the ice with something & begin to fumble with their hands as they try to keep them to themselves & then finally blurt out "I love your hair, it's so beautiful... can I... is it... can I just touch it?" And I normally give in. TO COMPLETE STRANGERS!!! Maybe this is something I need to stop on my end. Basically my hair is a celebrity & without it I'd never get noticed. LMAO, my hair makes me. I don't think it would look good any other way, it wouldn't be me. Although, I won't front - I do PRAY that it could be straight... I put it on people's heads so they can take pics as if they had curly hair (babies, children, men & women) everyone's gotten in on the action. Shit! I'm going to start charging!!!

A year or 2 ago, on my walk down the block to the Port Authority I had a woman run up in back of me & catch up & walk alongside as she asked me what I use in my hair. Because her hair was just like mine – this is where the conceited pompous chick pops outta me (me thinking… “Yeah right bitch, your hair will never look like mine”), her hair was NOT like mine, not even close. I guess that’s human nature – certain types of people feel like they have to express that they go through the same struggle as you even though they clearly don’t… weird no? She tried everything she could but just couldn’t get her hair to look like mine. Well duh... So this weirdo asks me & I tell her & no joke, a few months later, walking down the same block she runs up to me again saying she didn’t mean to be a stalker, but she needed to know AGAIN what it was she had to buy in order to do her hair like mine. I gave her “shitface” look. Who does that?! Who runs ½ a mile to find out about hair product?! I swear, the next time she comes up to me I’m gonna have to karate chop her in the throat & tell her she’ll never have anything over me so get over it. LMAO, ya know, thinking about it now… perhaps I am conceited about my hair… I mean, at least I’m proud of something right? Sometimes when someone compliments me on my hair 4-5 days in all I think is “Pssshhhh, you should have seen it on the 2nd & 3rd day”. LMAO So when someone asks what I put in my hair I happily tell them & relish in the fact that they’ll never understand or get to the point where I am with my hair… I mean, this is an art people… this is a true craft I perform on myself on a weekly basis (YES, YOU READ THAT RIGHT… WEEKLY BASIS!!!!) This shit gets expensive!!!

By my calculations I average (not including coloring):
Gel ~ $360/year
Hair Spray ~ $120 - $312/year on Hair Spray (depending on what brand I buy)
Hair Tonic ~ $180/year
Blow Dryer ~ $80/year (I go through at least 2 a year)
Shampoo & Conditioner ~ $120 (luckily I get a discount @ work so this REALLY helps)

So this works out roughly to anywhere from $860 - $1,052 a year – A YEAR on hair product alone!!!! And if an impersonator is trying to achieve my pinnacle of hair (I swear, I’m not this self centered LMAO) they don’t know the technique of how it’s all supposed to work out… hence why I'll have the most awesome hair in the history of hair Tee-hee.

Sleeping with The Enemy

So I basically almost killed my Husband... I had a night terror. No. NOT a nightmare... a night terror... It was physically terrifying. I did a little research & came to find out that as the picture above shows, the ancient Greeks thought that during nightmares one is dominated by an "incubus" (a small demon) who sits on the dreamer's chest, leading to a sense of suffocation, breath difficulties, a racing and heavy heart. Oh those Greeks. Well, they came pretty damn close.

Victor & I had gone down to Maryland to visit his Sister (my SIL), his & my Brother In Law, our niece Alyssa & their brand new baby Kayla... Lasanta had to work that night so it was just Carmen, Victor, my Mother In Law & the kiddies. We stayed up talking for a bit & then went to sleep - it was actually quite early; before 11:00. We crawl on into our blow up mattress & turn in for the night. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything is nice & quiet, peaceful even & Victor & I drift off into the Land of Nod. Except it wasn't the Land of Nod for me. It was the Land of Hell...

My Mother always told me I was afraid of death & that I was always scared of dying. I guess after years of watching crime solving shows & documentaries I had pretty much convinced myself that the way I was going to die was by someone murdering me. I just always felt like it was going to happen. It's a huge fear of mine...

All I know was suddenly I was laying on the floor, in a very dark room with only a little light coming in. There was a dark silohuette above me. Immediately I thought it was a man; immediately I thought: this is it, this is how it's going to happen. My very worst fear was coming true, I'm going to die. I felt this person wanted to kill me & basically I began to fight for my life. I began screaming - not even words, just screaming at the top of my lungs, I began punching, clawing like a f'n animal, Hispanic Mother, kicking as if I invented Tae Kwon Do myself. All I knew was this person was going... to... kill... me... and I wasn't going out like that. All of a sudden I felt a weight on top of me. I felt it covering my face; I bit down hard, I swear I felt my teeth connect! I kept fighting & somehow, by the grace of God I was awake!!!! Sitting up in a dark room, surrounded by Victor, Carmen & my Mother In Law. They looked shocked, they were quiet just staring at me. And in that split second I realized it was all a dream!!! I was alive!!! No one was killing me! I just broke down & sobbed & sobbed & sobbed. I was so grateful it was a dream *Excuse me - Night Terror*

They immediately began trying to soothe me & tell me to calm down, shit it practically brings tears to my eyes thinking of how comforting they were. Victor tried to hug me but I was trembling, I didn't even want him to touch me. It was so crazy, I felt uncomfortable with a man, my Husband, consoling me. Fast forward a few minutes & quite a few glasses of water later I go to look for Victor who is in the bathroom with his sister. I come into the bathroom to find that there is blood on Victor's shirt, not only his, mine too. He had scratches on the side of his face, scratches on his back & arm. He lifted his shirt to show me a bruised bite mark looking like it was left by a f'n animal. I was that animal. Victor was the "man" I bit in my dream. Turns out he was trying to wake me up the whole time & I wasn't responding.

The only advice I can give anyone about this is to always try to go to sleep with good thoughts in your head... it's pretty f'n scary what your brain can pull out of you at times. Needless to say it was a horrifying experience to go through... I almost killed my Husband!!!! LOL, at least now he knows if this is what I could do in my sleep imagine what I could do awake MoFo...

Death Becomes Her

Now, as a precursor to this story I have to make sure it’s crystal clear to you & that you understand I wish no harm on this woman… are we clear? Yes? M’kay…

Every morning while I/we await the train into NY the platform is chock full of different people… there is one woman in particular that creeps me the F out… I mean, makes me cringe whenever I see her. Let’s call her Dorothy shall we? Yes we shall… so Dorothy is standing on the same platform as we are… waiting to catch the train into the city just like everyone else is; just trying to make an honest living. Now I have nothing against Dorothy as a woman, I’m sure she’s sweet, caring & nice. But Dorothy is bone chilling because she looks (GOD FORGIVE ME) like she physically just stepped out of a coffin!!!!! Don, don, don!!!!

I am not kidding!!!! I wish I was. She is thin, a little lanky with a touch of a hunch on her back, her hands looks thin & bony, yet her skin is stretchy, she wears fire engine red lipstick that seems to be outlined in brown. Her makeup looks caked on, like creasy & matte & her hair I mean WIG is a short straight poofy deposit of black hair. She looks like she was readied by the makeup department of a funeral home & the more I look @ her the more I think she’s the walking dead… see her in the picture above coming out of her house running for the train?!?! This is where I picture her coming from in the morning. She scares me!!! And like I said, I wish her no harm, I wish her a long life, but God she really heebies my jeebies. This morning I decided to see what she was up to - ya know, what are the daily nuances of a zombie, turns out she loves to carry heavy big bags & likes to write the lottery numbers she’s going to play on a shit load of index cards… maybe saving up for that crypt she’s always wanted? GOD FORGIVE ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! See what I do for your entertainment? LOL