I Still Don't Get It

Even though K is still 11, I'm officially the mother of a teenager. Her latest drama? She wrote in a school essay that she has, in the past, contemplated suicide.

Now, I know what you're thinking: Living with Raquel as a mother? I'd contemplate it, too! But seriously, this girl does not have it so bad! But whatever, I won't go there; it's not the point of this post.

The point is, I just don't understand how one gets to that point. I know what it is to feel sad, blue, exhausted, frustrated and crazed. But I also know how to climb out of those holes. I can't seem to get my head around the fact that there are people who cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I've always known, deep down, that no matter how shitty my circumstances, that everything would somehow work out. I guess it's the only thing I really believe in and where my faith lies: things will always work out. Oh, I allow myself a few days to wallow in self-pity and cry "woe is me" from time to time, but I always pick myself up, use my logical, scientist's brain (it's still in there, buried under mounds and mounds of useless pop culture facts), consult with (translation: bitch and moan to) friends and family and find the solution. I don't understand why everybody just can't do what I do.

This way of thinking is what keeps me from being a good teacher. I know why 2+2=4, but I don't know why a baby can't grasp that one true logical fact. In my mind, it's old hat; I really have a difficult time remembering that long ago 2+2 used to baffle me, too.

So now I have this sad, possibly suicidal 11-year-old, who has taken whatever has made her sad and magnified it to the 100th degree, and for some reason didn't realize that there is always a solution that will make things better that does not involve harming herself.

Another problem I have with this is that I hold firm to the belief that people who commit suicide are weak, cowardly and selfish- sorry if this touches a nerve with anyone, but it's what I feel.

Everyone feels overwhelmed and sad and has the weight of the world on their shoulders. If you need more attention, say so. If your current situation makes you unhappy, then do you and get out of it; if you're not happy no one around you will be either, so you're not doing anyone any favors by sticking it out. So how do I counsel her now without making the situation worse by calling her a weak coward, when everything in my being wants to shake her and do just that.

K has always been quiet and reserved and to herself; so was I back in the day. I took her behavior to mean she wanted to be left alone, because that's how I was as a kid- I went off by myself because I wanted to BE by myself.

Jack expressed that maybe she does it because she doesn't know how to ask for what she needs, and perhaps doesn't know that she doesn't know, and that's what boggles my mind. How can a child of mine not know how to open her mouth and yell: I NEED YOU TO PAY ATTENTION TO ME?

N does it all the time; why can't K?

Quietly...I blame her father...no one in MY family has these problems, I don't care what Jack says...

*smooches...realizing that motherhood is for the birds*
------------
Tho' I battled blind,
Love is a fate resigned
Memories mar my mind,
Love it is a fate resigned
Over futile odds,
And laughed at by the Gods
And now the final frame,
Love is a losing game

Damn Dirty DAWG!

I knew I didn't like this fool for a reason- my gut instinct is NEVER wrong. I've always gotten a "slimy, shady" vibe from Alex Rodriguez... he better hope he can pull a Kobe and keep his wife from taking him to the cleaners!

A-ROD'S A YANKEE DOODLE RANDY HITS A STRIP JOINT WITH TORONTO BABE

By DAN MANGAN


WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS PICK-TURE: Alex Rodriguez walks into the Four Seasons hotel in Toronto with a woman not his wife before getting on an elevator together.


May 30, 2007 -- Yankees superstar Alex Rodriguez stepped up to the plate with a mysterious, busty blonde in Toronto, as these intimate, exclusive photos reveal.

The cozy duo dined with two pals at a pricey steakhouse late Sunday night, then headed to a glitzy strip club before making their way to his hotel, where the pair ducked into an elevator and headed upstairs just after midnight.

Cynthia Rodriguez - A-Rod's wife and mother of their 2 1/2-year-old daughter, Natasha - was nowhere to be seen during the slugger's big night out on the town, which occurred the evening before the last-place Bronx Bombers' pathetic 7-2 loss to the Toronto Blue Jays.

And it came as Rodriguez took a room at Toronto's Four Seasons hotel - down the street from the Park Hyatt, where most, if not all of his Yankee teammates and coaches are staying during a three-game stint that ends tonight.

"No comment," Rodriguez said when The Post asked him about his north-of-the-border jaunt with the blonde.

Yankees spokesman Jason Zillo said A-Rod has "never commented on his personal or private life, and he's not going to start now."

Rodriguez went 0-for-3 last night in the Yanks' 3-2 loss to the Blue Jays.
A-Rod started his busy Sunday in The Bronx, where the Yankees dropped a third straight game to the Los Angeles Angels.

The powerhouse third baseman then flew to Toronto, where he checked into the Four Seasons in the city's posh Yorkville section.

After settling in, the 31-year-old A-Rod, the mystery blonde and two men left the Four Seasons in a taxi shortly after 8:30 p.m., and headed to dinner at Harbour Sixty Steakhouse, a ritzy restaurant located about two miles away near the city's harbor and the Rogers Centre, where the Blue Jays play.

Rodriguez, who was wearing his wedding band, was casually dressed in jeans and a white, short-sleeved T-shirt featuring a large fleur-de-lis on its left arm. His tight-bodied, bleach-blonde gal pal was clad in a snug pair of blue jeans, a shiny, light T-shirt and wedge-heeled shoes.

A witness told The Post that Rodriguez and his three companions spent about two hours dining at Harbour Sixty.

Rodriguez and the blonde, and possibly the two other men, then were driven in one of Harbour Sixty's cars two miles to the Brass Rail, a flashy strip club located on Yonge Street.
The witness saw A-Rod and the woman go into the Brass Rail just after 11 p.m.

Home to what one Web site calls, "Toronto's most beautiful all-nude dancers," the Brass Rail is known for its booming sound system, overflowing crowds, overpriced beers and $20 lap dances - a drop in the bucket for Rodriguez, who has a 10-year contract worth $252 million.
Rodriguez and the blonde spent an hour or so at the Brass Rail, the witness said.

When they walked out of there, A-Rod and the woman were alone.

They then got a cab back to the Four Seasons. Their cab pulled up to the hotel minutes after midnight.

A-Rod then strode into the hotel behind her. He rubbed his nose as if to obscure his face to other people as he joined her at the elevator bank.

As the doors to an elevator opened, he and the blonde got in together, the witness said.
The doors then closed, and they disappeared upstairs.

dan.mangan@nypost.com

I mean, DAMN A-Rod! At least be discreet with your shit! Did you even think of how this would affect your daughter? Fucking bastard!

*smooches...convinced that true love and monogamy just don't exist*

----------

Staying home alone on a Friday

Flat on the floor looking back

On old love

Or lack thereof

After all the crushes are faded

And all my wishful thinking was wrong

I'm jaded

I hate it

The Downside of Drinking

I had a great Memorial Day Weekend- friends came from MA to visit and we partied like it was 1999! We drank, went shopping, drank, played pool, drank, saw the Bodies exhibit, drank, had brunch.

But when they left and I had a bunch of time to myself to sober up before my kiddies came back I had a myriad of harsh realities unfold in front of me...and it's not even PMS week:

1. Mr. DJ? He's an ass...I've not heard from him in a week and now I feel played...I don't like to feel played...and with no other prospects in my near future I have decided that I'm officially done with this dating shyt. I know I've said it before, but this time I mean it. Niggas ain't shit- I'm finished.

2. My mom is sick and having surgery on Friday...did she tell me about it? No! I had to find out from someone else. And she's not taking my calls. I don't know what her deal is but seriously- grow up!

3. I still have not secured summer plans for my girls, and whatever I come up with now will absolutely cost me an arm and a leg..and maybe an ear or two.

4. My wack-ass LG phone fell out of my pocket and now won't power on...piece of shit phone! Now I gotta go to the store and hope they can retrieve my information. If I don't call any of you it's because I lost your number...

5. I hate my breasts, and I think they will be what will finally get me over my doctor phobia, because I need a reduction/lift ASAP...damn babies...

6. I've gained weight and it's not cute!

7. I still have not had my panel for my MFA degree, and I'm starting to think that perhaps my professors have found such major flaws in my work that they can't possibly allow me to graduate in August.

8. Freelance work has not taken off the way I thought it would; I'm almost at the point where I may have to reconsider this whole writing thing...

From now on, I think I will stick with my Coronas and perhaps not drink whiskey as if I'm still 19, chugging Jack Daniels in my dorm room like there's no tomorrow.

Just a thought...

*smooches...in the harsh light of day*

-----------------

And outside your window you can see the circus it's lurching

with rings of smoke

You laugh halfheartedly at the punchline

Not realizing they've made you the joke

And inside you're heart a war is raging

A region still untamed

The worst fear I can imagine is for the mystery to be named

And I Still Listen To It, Too!

Last night, I died and went to Heaven. Why? Because I was 50 feet away from the rockin-est band around today- VELVET fucking REVOLVER!!!!!! (see a review here)

They kicked ASS at the Nokia Theatre (in Times Square) and I couldn't think of a better place to ring in my 32nd birthday- in a crowded venue with my friends, some beer, a lil weed and loud-as-fuck, gets-deep-into-your-soul, makes-you-want-to-strip-down-naked-and-dance music.

I've been a fan of the GNR guys and STP for a long time, and when they decided to merge and form this uber-band, well, I just finally realized my reason for living! As an adolescent it was GNR's "Welcome to the Jungle" that kept me from climbing clock towers with an AK-47, believe it or not. Something about Axl's anger and Slash's crazy guitar melodies always found a way to calm my soul.

And now I can say that it's VR's "Fall To Pieces" and "Illegal I Song" that will hopefully keep me out of that proverbial Orange Jumpsuit. Those songs are just so raw and intense, why, a girl just can't help but find peace in their lyrics.

I'd like to thank Dom and Lani for coming and experiencing the amazing-ness that is Slash with me. Even though the tickets were a little more than we wanted to pay and especially after my absent-mindedness almost made us miss it!

I'd like to thank Minerva for giving me the ticket as a Mother's day/birthday gift. Even though I pester her with Slash and John Cusack stories until she's ready to burst from pure frustration ;)

I'd like to thank Mr. and Mrs. Hudson for giving birth to that sexy guitar GOD that I've been lusting after since 1988 when I first heard the opening riff to "Sweet Child O' Mine."

And I'd like to thank Duff for helping Scott get clean long enough to make some sweet-ass music. No one slides across that stage like my boy Scott!



The night was pretty summed up for me when Scott yelled into the mic, "We're Velvet Revolver and we still play rock and mother fucking roll!" After that, I knew it was gonna be a good night...





*smooches...with a hangover and some ringing in my ear*
-----------
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?

"Looks Like Someone's Got A Case of the Mondays..."

Lady Estrogen was here...

I'm really not cut out for a 9-5...

*smooches...that's it...just smooches...*
--------------
Have to catch an early train
Got to be to work by nine
And if I had an air-o-plane
I still couldn't make it on time
'Cause it takes me so long
Just to figure out what I'm gonna wear
Blame it on the train
But the boss is already there

BITCH!!

Meet Lady Estrogen. My arch nemesis. My secret identity that's not so secret.

She comes along once a month to ruin what is otherwise the normal life of a 3o-something single mother of two.

She's also the reason I started my inner peace journey: Lady Estrogen takes over my body sometimes, much like the whole Nikki/Jessica dynamic on Heroes, except The Lady hasn't killed anyone...yet.

When she's not around, I make pretty good decisions; I eat healthy and get enough sleep and stick to my self-imposed celibacy and continue to find the good in everything that happens in my life.

When she rears her ultra-mega-fawnky self, I order enchiladas by the dozen, spend money WAY beyond my budget, slack off at work and cry during cheesy episodes of Lost (but really, you'd have to have a heart made of stone NOT to cry during Charlie and Hurley's goodbye scene!).

And just when I think I have her licked, just when I think the meditation is working and that I'm ready to make important decisions and be SURE of those important decisions, here she comes putting doubt and regret in place when it's too late to do anything different.

Obviously this is a relationship thing I'm rambling about. I won't go into too many details-I want to keep the mystery alive in our relationship :) - but needless to say, it should be illegal for me to take nice comfortable situations and in one drunken night, allow Lady Estrogen to take matters into her own hands and fuck my whole world up something AWFUL!!!.

Or at least that's how it feels, because, you know, I have PMS.

Skanky WHORE! I hate her!!!

*smooches...considering a shady organ removal in Tijuana...*

-------------

Bag lady you gone miss your bus

You can't hurry up

Cause you got too much stuff

When they see you comin

Niggas take off runnin

From you it's true oh yes they do

Why Family Matters

I've just reconnected with a long lost cousin via myspace, and it reminded me of a time when we were kids and just had zero worries. When our days were filled with Grandma's cooking and trying to re-create outdoor fun in our indoor "prison."

Birthday parties, Thanksgiving, Fourth of July fireworks in the neighborhood- all pleasant memories that help tuck me in on nights when I feel so alone and burdened.

And no matter what crap I thought I had the right to complain about back then, today I know I am blessed to have them in my life. Yes, even the crazy Penzos...well, the one's I talk to, anyways...

Perhaps the older one becomes, and the smaller one's pool of close friends becomes, one takes inventory of what's really important.

I decided that my family matters to me because:

1. Family will never leave you alone. Even when you want to be left alone, they will call you and hound you and give you that tough love that outsiders might be too scared to give you.

2. Family will give you the last dollar in their pocket and the shirt off their backs. It's just what they do. And sure, they may hold it over you for the rest of your life, but they're family, not saints!

3. Family will all jump in and help you straighten out a stray child in half a minute. So even single parents like myself never really feel the burden of raising children in a one-parent household.


4. Family will let you crash at their place even if they don't have the space. Especially us Latinos- we're not unfamiliar with having 4 or 5 to a bed. It just makes us closer :)


And the number 5 reason why family matters... because your real family, whether related by blood or brought together by circumstances will always love you no matter what. And will absolutely make the trek up to Rikers to bring you some sancocho and white rice every week.


*smooches...to my ENTIRE family; you know who you are*
----------------
And it's six in the morning,
Gave me no warning;
I had to be on my way.
Well there's trucks all a-passing,
And the lights all are flashing,
I'm on my way home from the place.

He's No John Cusack, But...

When I decided to become a writer/journalist, I imagined all the cool celebrities I would get an opportunity to meet on the red carpets of the world. Namely, my beloved John.

Today, although I was not hob-knobbing with the Justin Timberlakes and Sarah Jessica Parkers, I attended a press conference held by former President Bill Clinton.

And it was just as cool!

He, along with our fair Mayor Mikey B and London Mayor Ken Livingstone were announcing Clinton's foundation underwriting a program that would retrofit buildings throughout major cities of the world (only 16 so far!) to be more energy efficient. And they were able to get 4 major energy producers to back it and 5 major banks to finance it to the tune of $5 billion. Pretty neat, huh?

Just too bad my wack-ass Verizon camera phone (that's right VZ, I'm calling you out!!) took such janky pics, otherwise I would have posted them here.

This press conference was all a part of the C40 Large Cities Climate Summit that's been going on in Manhattan all week (clogging up the traffic on Central Park South), and, I don't know, maybe I'm getting old or growing up, or this inner peace thing is starting to take hold of me, but I was actually moved by the efforts put forth by the various municipalities of the world.

It sounds like a good deal and a great start. And I can't believe my Jaded little heart that the private sector is actually on board with this. That elected officials- across party lines, mind you- and money hungry Corporate America are actually taking the initiative to combat Global Warming. Creating jobs, cleaning up the air, attempting to de-congest the streets...never in my lifetime did I imagine it.

I know, you're a little afraid that I actually care about something. I'm scared, too. Next thing you know, I might actually *GASP* VOTE... in a GOVERNMENT ELECTION!!! Shudder to think...

*smooches...off to grab a drink with Slick Willie and his Harlem Posse*

-----------

There was a window and by it stood

A mirror in which

He could see himself

He thought of something

Something he had never had but hoped would come along

Cry freedom, cry

From deep inside

Where we are all confined

While we wave hands in fire

Wave our hands

Trying On a New Orange Jumpsuit...

And so it begins.

I got a disturbing phone call from the parents of K's best friend to discuss some inappropriate messages that K left on her friend's phone. I won't list the details here out of respect for K's privacy, but needless to say, I was two minutes from shoving my foot so far up her ass she'd be tasting suede Sketchers for months!

When I confronted her she admitted to a few of the allegations, but not all of them, so now I have to meet with the friend's parents and hear the messages for myself. You know, before I shove my foot in her ass for no reason.

I don't think I need to explain to any of you how far and wide my wrath soared last night. Probably on your way to dry the dishes or go to bed, you felt an odd chill deep down in your core and wasn't sure what it was. It was me, telling K in no uncertain terms that her credibility with me is shot to hell, and that any privilege she ever had is now nothing more than a distant memory. Cell phone? What's that? Computers? TV? As far as K is concerned, they haven't been invented yet.

This child is absolutely lucky that I've started meditating and learning to find my inner peace in times of inner turmoil, because the old Raquel would have gotten a belt, went to town on that ass and asked questions later...on our way to DR so that my grandfather can teach her a little about "old school discipline."

And I hate to admit it, but this is total Karmic payback for all the shyt I pulled as a kid. I know, I know, you're shocked, but yeah I wasn't the sweet angel I've led you all to believe I was, and when I got caught, BOY was there hell to pay. In fact, it still kinda hurts to sit down...

To all of you out there sans children, thank your lucky stars tonight. I envy you all. I know the old adage goes: the grass is always greener... but in this case, the grass is not only greener, but it's perfectly manicured and is blooming beautiful red roses. Whereas my grass just grew a few more grey hairs and earned some yucky frown lines.

*smooches...one step closer to becoming my mom*
------------
Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love
Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

Goodbye, Enchilada Fridays...

Irene finally guilted me into picking up my bridesmaid's dress for Celia's wedding from the bridal shop, the dress I've been avoiding for months for fear that I would not fit it.

And guess what?


I don't fit it.


I just want to cry and scream and punch somebody in the face, maybe the delivery guy from the Mexican place that's been feeding my enchilada addiction every week...goddamn pusher man!!


Last night I tried on the dress and when it didn't close, I told myself if was because I couldn't reach the zipper. "I'll wait til the morning and then have K zip it for me," I said with my head in the clouds.


So this morning, I scooted into the dress and waited for my babies to zip me up. But it wasn't working.


From the front, I look pretty good:


You can tell that I'm smaller than I used to be and all my belly fat is cleverly disguised (nice dress choice, Celia!!!):



However, there is no denying that my breasts are too large for this dress. I should have just bought the next size up and had it altered:



How soon would I be able to recover from a breast reduction and rib removal? By June 7th? Because goddammit if that's not what it's gonna take to get me into this &*$% dress!!!

*smooches...not so happy with the twins right now*
----------
I want to be the girl with the most cake
He only loves those things because he loves to see them break
I fake it so real, I am beyond fake
And someday, you will ache like I ache

Only in New York

Seen about town:

Getting His Groove On

There's this older white man who stands outside the Starbucks by my job with a little stereo in his bike basket. Every time I see him, he's playing a song that, well, you wouldn't expect an old white guy to listen to. Plus he's usually blinged out ala Run DMC- no lie! And while he's playing dance gems like R. Kelly's "I'm a Flirt" and C&C Music Factory's "Everybody Dance Now" he's rockin' the smooth moves. That guy brightens up my weekdays!

Not You, Too!

I saw the weirdest thing, and maybe you've all seen this before but it was a first for me and really had me baffled. This petite, nicely dressed Asian woman...with ghetto fab nails! I mean, super long, airbrushed, silk-wrapped- the whole nine!! Interesting....

Simon Cowell Would L-O-V-E You

I used to love my electric blue iPod mini before it died, (and now I enjoy Minerva's iPod, lol!!) but ever since portable music players were "invented" there have been a slew of "singers" all over town and in the subways. They include the wannabe diva, the nasal nerd and the Gospel queen- all of whom, I'm sure, SWEAR they sound just as good as what's blowing in their ears. I'm sure.

If You're Pregnant, I'm From Glaxxnard!

Beggars these days have to have a gimmick or NYers like myself will just keep it moving and not pay them any mind. Last night, this one lady took the cake! She actually came around to everyone and said she was seven months pregnant- even went so far as to hold her belly in that typical pregnant stance- and needed money to buy a sandwich and a drink. Uh, excuse me dear, but I've been pregnant, twice, and I've been fat. Trust me, I know the difference. And so did all the other passengers- she got squat from my train car!

*smooches...forever Jaded, forever a NYer*
-----------

And love won't play any games with you

Anymore if you want 'em to

So we better shake this old thing out the door

I'll always be thinkin' of you

I'll always love you though New York

Did You or Didn't You?

Moron!

Why you gotta be puttin' your ignorance out there and embarrassing the shyt outta me? Huh?? You make me sad :(

Of all the asinine, ridiculous statements. I mean really- where's your publicist? Fire him- ASAP!!!

I'm so glad you don't play for New York

Report: Ortiz not sure if he took steroids

May 8, 2007
BOSTON (TICKER) -- It appears Boston Red Sox slugger David Ortiz is not sure if he has taken steroids.

Ortiz told the Boston Herald that he could not say definitively if he had ever used performance-enhancing drugs in the past. The burly designated hitter also said that if he did, it happened when he was much younger.

"I tell you, I don't know too much about steroids, but I started listening about steroids when they started to bring that (expletive) up," Ortiz told the paper. "I started realizing and getting to know a little bit about it. You've got to be careful.

"I used to buy a protein shake in my country. I don't do that anymore because they don't have the approval for that here, so I know that, so I'm off buying things at the GNC back in the Dominican (Republic). But it can happen anytime, it can happen. I don't know. I don't know if I drank something in my youth, not knowing it."

However, Ortiz, who hit a club-record 54 home runs last season, made light of the situation, joking that he should try steroids just to see what all the fuss is about.

"I should use steroids just to see what's going on," Ortiz joked to the Herald. "Nah. I have a good family. I want to see my kids learn and develop. I think I'm having an OK career. So, I take a lot of Advils, but I think I'm going to stop taking them. They say it (expletive) your liver."

*smooches...hiding my Dominican flag in shame*
---------
Eran las 7 e' la mañana
y uno por uno al matadero
pues cada cual tiene su precio
buscando visa para un sueño

Did You Hear the One About the Gay Man and His Sex-Addicted Beard Entering a Nunnery...?

Jack and I are TIRED of men, you hear me? T-I-R-E-D!!!

They play too many games. They live with their mommas. They string you along for months. They break up with you for no reason. They don't return phone calls. They ain't got no damn teeth!

We are TOO THROUGH with every single one of them! Well, maybe not the stripper from our night out, but you get my drift...

So we've decided to join a convent. That's right. We're giving ourselves to Jesus. I've already got almost 6 mos of celibacy under my belt, what's another 50 years? And it won't be half as much fun unless Jack comes with me, so he's coming.

AND, we're gonna pitch it to FOX-TV as a reality show. Or maybe the CW Network- they're not afraid of nappy-headed hos like me over there.

Picture it, cameras follow me and Jack as we take our vows and live within the strict confines of the convent, interacting with the other novices, praying at 5:30 AM daily, sneaking off with the priests for some "afternoon delight." It'll be a blast!!

I'm sure we'd bring American Idol to its knees!

Here's a scene from episode 5:

5:45AM- Raquel's Room. Mother Superior enters.

MS: Raquel? Wake up, you've missed morning prayers again. Raquel? Raquel?
Raquel: (groggy) Huh? What do you want?
MS: My dear, it's almost six- you've missed morning prayers.
Raquel: Oh, yeah, sorry 'bout that. But listen, I'm probably not going to make it to afternoon prayers, either.
MS: And why not?
Raquel: I gotta go pick up Jack downtown. We got arrested last night.
MS: What?
Raquel: Yeah, we went to this gay bar last night with Father Murphy to catch the drag show and some butch dyke bartender reminded Jack of his ex, and, well, The Captain was with us...
MS: Father Murphy? The Captain?
Raquel: You know, Captain Morgan?
MS: (confused yet annoyed) Who? How did you get home? Where's Father Murphy
Raquel: Father Murphy ditched us when the pigs came. They let me go because the bartender didn't press charges. And they would've let Jack go, too, but he said the arresting officer reminded him of this guy, C...

*smooches...anxiously awaiting her new "habit"*
----------
You're a dirty, dirty man
Oh in so many, so many dirty ways
You're a dirty, dirty man
And you've been hiding your little dirt all over this hip place
I know you have
Oh here's my chance baby to throw some mud in your face

The Most Perfect 18 Hours of My Life...

We met up in downtown BK at around 8PM Friday night, just for a leisurely stroll to the Promenade. I love it there; used to go with my mom all the time and dream of living across the water in the big city. As usual it was full of couples and tourists and families at the playground. Someone's yard had the sweetest smelling flowers around.

The ice cream place was packed, and the pizzeria had a line wrapped around the corner, so we opted for a little place for a bottle of red and some appetizers. We watched the Yankee game and caught up; it had been a while since we spoke. The crab cakes were delish and the wine went straight to my head...I was feeling good.

We went back to his place. He opened a bottle of champagne (even though he almost had to carry me all the way over- that wine killed me!) and I opened up the dominoes. I beat him 109-59, and he tried to redeem himself with a game of gin (I won best out of seven). He mentioned how much he missed my smile.

Then the wine and champagne decided that I'd had enough and when my head became too heavy to hold up he brought me a change of clothes and put me to bed. Helped me get dressed, even. Didn't try anything, just helped me get dressed and put me to bed. Like a true gentlemen. And I dozed off.

In the morning, I woke up in his arms. His big strong manly arms (GOD I'm a SUCKER for ARMS!!!) and it felt so nice. So I kissed him, and he kissed me back and that was nice, too. And maybe some other stuff happened too but nothing like YOU'RE thinking. Not that.

Around 11:30 we go get brunch on 5th Ave at this cute cafe/wine bar. On the way over we point to all the brownstones we'd love to live in and he promises to buy me at least seven of them before our day ends. After brunch I decide he should walk me home, even though he has somewhere to be at 4. "Only to 15th Street," he says. But I know better.

On the way we chat some more, and he has this thing he does, where he won't let me walk on the street-side of the sidewalk and every time it looks like I'll end up on that side, he takes his big strong man hands, places them on the small of my back, and gently guides me towards the inside of the sidewalk. I see people looking at us and smiling, because, well, we look good together.

We get to the Pavilion and I keep walking instead of hopping on the train. And he keeps walking, too. "Why am I still walking you," he asks. "Because I'm cute and I have a million dollar smile," I say, flashing my pearly whites. He rolls his eyes...but continues to walk me home.

Somewhere along Greenwood Avenue, we joke about my neighborhood being in the "ghettos of Park Slope" and he keeps doing that hand on the small of my back thing that sends shivers up and down all of my parts.

At my place, we plop on the couch- we had been walking for at least 90 minutes. I'd never been so tired. Or turned on. I remembered that the night before, when he was full of wine and champagne he basically professed his love to me, saying that a platonic relationship with me would be hard. And I started thinking how easy it would be to just be his girlfriend- he's totally smitten with me, has a body to die for, doesn't want kids and understands my mood swings like only my bestest friends do. So easy to just give in.

But even with his manly arms and gentleman ways and sweet lips and body of a god...there are just no sparks. I don't like him like that. I wish to GOD that I did, but the fact is if it's not there it just isn't. I've already learned that the hard way.

So in the middle of our almost-mistake, smarter heads prevailed. We did nothing. He had a game to get to. I had a promise to myself to keep.

It was the bestest time I'd had in a really long while.

Just...with the wrongest guy ever.

*smooches...self-sabotaging all over Brooklyn*
---------
You can't know how happy I am that we met
I'm strangely attracted to you
There's someone I'm trying so hard to forget
Don't you want to forget someone too

Racist and Prejudiced My AZZ!!!!

Chiiiiiiiilllllllddddd! I just had to get extra, mega, funky on K's dean of students in the form of this very "stern" letter I just emailed to him and the principal:

Dear Mr. XXXX,

K brought to my attention yesterday's incident, in which she and some of her friends were reprimanded for laughing at and imitating the substitute math teacher's accent.

While I am appalled at her behavior, and find it completely unacceptable, inappropriate and disrespectful, I have some concerns with the level of punishment she is receiving and with you referring to K as "racist" and "prejudiced."

Correct me if I am wrong, but K has had an impeccable academic and behavioral record to date. This does not excuse her actions, but I honestly think that humiliating her in front of the school community by making her read an apology out loud, and using such harsh labels is an abuse of power and a waste of a teachable moment.

As her parents, her father and I have spoken with her about being disrespectful and "going along with the crowd," and assured her that we will not tolerate it. But please trust that we will also not allow any figure of authority at your institution to "make an example" of K, which will undoubtedly result in feelings of being ostracized.

As a parent and former educator, I'm of the opinion that reprimands should not just be punitive, but should be used an opportunity to counsel students on how to appropriately redirect their behaviors and make positive choices. We do not want to create a situation in which K no longer trusts or feels comfortable approaching an adult on campus if she happens to need support in the future.

I would appreciate a moment of your time to discuss this further and get the full story on what occurred and why this particular punishment was chosen.

Sincerely,
Your Worst Nightmare!!!! (okay, that's not how I signed it, but you get my point...)

He don't even know...he done fucked with the WRONG Dominican...inner peace be DAMNED!

*smooches...*
------------
I know it's strange
But my brain's gone really insane
And I'm off the chain
Sipping on a fifth of the Golden Grain
I feel like slappin a nigga today...

"Love is Like Frienship on Fire"...and Other Musings

Up to the minute Raquel news for your reading pleasure:

Your Son? Yeah, He's a Cock Blocker...
Picture it: cute, tall Black man on the F-train in his Brasil track jacket, just fine as hell. Then here come his bratty-ass son kicking my bag, putting his lunchbox on the seat so I won't sit next to him (as if, punk!) and giving me the stink eye. His poor behavior is a reflection of his upbringing...that guy's stock plummeted by the time we reached Jay Street.

Budget Schmudget
I'll catch back up, I promise, but it's just soooo hard!! Can't the Magic Money Fairy just handle all that for me? It's like washing dishes and folding laundry and exercising- that's how much I loathe to balance my checkbook.

Is It Stalking If I Don't Jump the Fence?
June will find me in Chicago for a wedding. And I will casually stroll over to Evanston and accidentally end up in front of John Cusack's house. And maybe the flash will go off on my camera. And perhaps I'll grab some flowers from the yard and a few pieces of junk mail. Is that so wrong?

OK, Capital One. You Want Your Money. I Get it.
You didn't have to get your "lawyers" to UPS Overnight me a letter saying so. And while you're at it, can you PU-LEESE stop blowin' up my phone? Thank you!

Would You Watch My Reality Show? Or Be On It?
If I had a show called, "The Write Stuff" where wannabe authors competed for a chance at a book deal with, oh, say, Random House, would you watch every week? Would you call in and vote? Would you read the book once it came out? Or would you blog about what a loser and sell out I am??

"Love is Like Friendship on Fire"
Is this quote supposed to make me want to fall in love? So okay, we're friends on fire. So if we go swimming the fire gets put out? If we don't are we consumed by it?

Quotes like this are dangerous. They give the impression that "love" is this intense, overwhelming, bigger than life thing that is supposed to take over your soul until you just burst at the seams from utter joy and giddiness.

Excuse me a second while I puke.

Love is staying on the phone all hours of the night talking a friend off the ledge. Love is changing your husband's diaper on his deathbed. Love is watching your child, on the news, take out his high school french class with an AK-47 and still visit his grave with flowers.

That "on fire" bullshit is lust. And after about a minute or so, the flames die down and all you are left with are the ashes of your former self.

See, this is exactly why I really need to stick to my indie, arty flicks and stop watching movies where the cast includes anyone with the last name Lohan or Duff.

*smooches...on a small detour from my inner peace path*
------------
Since you've gone I been lost without a trace
I dream at night I can only see your face
I look around but its you I cant replace
I feel so cold and I long for your embrace...