...Because I'm An Awesome Friend!

I received this email from Lani as a response to my message about New Year's Eve parties around the city:

Why are you reminding me of what a loser I am? I don’t have a date for New Years, much less this weekend!!!! I plan on crying into a martini glass when the ball drops, then passing out on a street bench somewhere where the birds can poop on me all day………

*smooches...promoting alcoholism one email at a time*
-------------
...and quietly, I might have to join her on that bench...

The Jaded NYer Goes To The Doctor, Pt. 1

Alright already. I went to the doctor.

He took my blood pressure (110/80- much better from last time when my German doctor gave me a stern warning that my BP was too low!) listened to my heart (normal) looked at my throat and ears (both normal) and weighed me (a very DEPRESSING 176; up 8 lbs from August!) and then gave me the side-eye when I divulged how long it had been since my last physical.

I then had to let him know about the pains I've been actively ignoring for almost three years, and that earned me another side-eye. And then he asked when I'd been to the OB/GYN last. So I punched him in his face and told him to mind his goddamn business.

At the end of the visit, I had this sheet (for the lab) with a laundry list of tests that I needed to have ASAP. Tests that require sharp needles and peeing into a cup in a nasty, germy public restroom. That's this weekend *gulp*.

So I guess that's when the mystery pain will reveal its true self. Is it the kidneys? The ovaries? The bladder? I'm personally hoping to be able to vote the ovaries off the island, but with my luck I'll be on dialysis by March!

*smooches...learning that the first step towards recovery is admitting there is a pain in my side and it's not going away on its own...*
-----------
can we have a moment of silence for my $15 co-pay? Damn HMO...

...And I Just Named My Stuffed Monkey Jesus!

On a daily basis, the media puts out a slew of ri-DUN-culous news articles about some crazy-ass people. Today, folks, was no exception.

In the Sudan, British school teacher Gillian Gibbons is being brought up on charges because she let the kids in her class name a teddy bear Muhammad. No, really! She's being charged with inciting hatred, insulting religion and showing contempt of religious beliefs. For real!

I can't shake my head enough at this story. Inciting hatred? With a teddy bear? Was it wearing a white hood or something? I can't say I've seen the KKK outfit at the 5th Avenue Build-A-Bear, but I could be mistaken...

According to the article: "if found guilty of insulting religion, [Gibbons] could be punished with a whipping of up to 40 lashes, a fine or six months in prison." DAAAAMMMMNNNN!!! Now that's gangsta!

Lets look at the facts, shall we? She let a kid bring in a teddy bear and then asked her SEVEN-YEAR-OLD PUPILS to name said bear. The class voted on Muhammad. Then the kids took turns taking Muhammad home and had to write diary entries about what they did with the bear. "The diary entries were collected in a book with the bear's picture on the cover, labeled, 'My Name is Muhammad.'" And because of that, Gibbons lost her job and will probably get whooped to death, too.

I remember when K was in kindergarten, her class had a stuffed animal as a mascot, and same deal- each kid took it home on weekends and had to write about the animal's visit. Harmless enough, see:


I don't know, I think it's harsh, but I'm thinking with my bleeding-heart-liberal-with-a-dash-of-conservatism Agnostic-American brain, so maybe I'm missing something.

All I know is, if she had stayed her ass home instead of going to teach in the SUDAN, a place where GENOCIDE is taking place, none of this would have happened. HELLLLOOOOO, McFly?! Is this thing on?

*smooches...wishin' a Sudanese muthuf***a WOULD try and whoop my a** 40 times!*
------------
i have to stop reading the news while watching The Kings of Comedy...

Stuff Is On My Mind

Lady Estrogen is due for her monthly, tortuous visit, so it makes sense that certain things have been heavy on my mind lately. Not anything major, or new for that matter, but just stuff that the voices have been clamoring around about for that past four days.

I Might Be Seriously Ill
Most of you will probably say whatever I have at this point I may very well deserve because I didn't go to the doctor when I first felt symptoms and pains. And I will have to absolutely agree with you 100%. I'm stubborn, hard-headed, bratty, etc, and if I drop dead on the street tomorrow from something that was probably treatable when it was first developing THREE YEARS AGO, I will have totally deserved it. You're all excused from attending my funeral.

Budget? What Budget?
My mom would probably wash her hands of me completely if she knew how far off budget I've gone. And after all her hard work to get me on track, too. But, like with everything else, I keep thinking if I ignore it, it will go away (see above). But it hasn't worked with the pain in my lower abs, so chances are Sallie Mae ain't tryna hear it, neither.

Thesis? What Thesis?
All that boasting and cooning it up about being THE MASTER OF FINE ARTS, and what do I do after graduation? Drag my ass on the revisions. Why? Because things didn't go my way. And because of that stupid and ill-advised Netflix subscription...I should really cancel that ish...

I Have No Patience. Period.
I don't want to tag along with you on the phone while you run errands. I don't want to hear the complete and unabridged history of why your memory is super-peachy-keen. And I really, truly, madly, deeply DO NOT want to hear your thoughts on the Bible and its teachings. Plus I don't care to hear your argument on why that Soulja Boy song is genius NOR do I want to know the inner-workings of your brain. I don't want to wait for the next available representative and I most certainly DO NOT want to sit around between the hours of 8:00AM and MIDNIGHT for your service guy to install my shit.

Unless I asked for any of these things specifically, don't offer it up or else...

...And Now I'm Over Him
I no longer mourn THE BREAKUP HEARD 'ROUND THE WORLD...I think I finally found the cure: realizing that he's not the great man I built him up to be. Oh, he was great to ME, but his behavior since the break-up (not towards me, mind you) has been less-than-stellar. And rather disappointing. He revealed the man behind the curtain. There are no more stars in my eyes about him. I'm done wallowing. Now I can move on.

I AM Worth The Wait(.com)
It took a staggering HIV statistic in the Washington Post mentioned by a fellow blogger to open my eyes: Sex Is Dangerous! People die from it. And it's NOT 100% safe no matter how you do it! People lie about their past, habits and cleanliness...seems to me that those Jesus Freaks and their abstinence schpiel are on the right track. Not that my body is a temple for Jesus or anything...GOD, no! I wouldn't let Jesus live in this broken-down, enchilada-and-hot-sauce filled cesspool of a body for all the Pringles in Wal-Mart! But maybe, just maybe it's worth more than a few drinks, a handful of pretty words, sexy, tattooed arms and great lips.

Maybe We Need Some Time Apart?
It has been a tumultuous two-year relationship I've been having with NYC- the men, the housing, the crappy prices at the local Foodtown- and I'm starting to think that what I used to really love about this City was being gone for a couple of years and then coming back with wide-eyes and wonder. I haven't made any concrete decisions- I'm still convinced that my writing career can only take off from here- but the thought of leaving again is there, lingering in the back of my mind.


*smooches...on the verge of so many changes that the voices are all panicky and confused*
------------
...but don't worry, I'm still as jaded and filled with vices as ever...

I Came. I Ate. I'm Nauseous

Thanksgiving at Casa Penzo-Acosta-Garcia-Ramirez-Baez was pretty much uneventful. NO one got in a fight; no one stormed out; no one cried.

We gathered, ate double our weight in food and then took turns passing out on the couch.

But we looked damn good doing it. Or at least I did:


This was the tree on Chester Avenue with all the cool leaves we used to decorate the table



And look how cute the table turned out



And look how cute my Mami looks at the table



This was the spread...actually, only part of it. I think I ate everything in this photo at least three or four times



This here is what we had for dessert; we cut it down this year for health reasons



So now here's the family:

Mari you already know; she came up from DC, still cute, still crazy





Then there's my Mami; don't we look so cute?



And of course you remember Minnie...but maybe not 'cuz she's not drunk in this photo (HA!!). PS- that's N in the back giving me bunny ears!!!



This merry trio you've never met, though. That's Marlon (Minnie's other half); my Titi Gloris and her hubby David (in the middle). It just happened to be David's birthday, too. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAVID!!!



And of course the kiddies were there, but y'all know how squeamish I am about posting current photos of them, so just imagine two of the most beautiful creatures in the world...basically 12-year-old and 7-year-old versions of me, and there you have it.

It was a pretty mellow and fun night. We sang some Marc Anthony. We watched Ugly Betty (well, some of us, anyway). Mami gave me and Mari a TMI moment regarding an Eddie Santiago song (BLECH!!! and that song used to be my fave!). And then when I was done with them, I found myself drawn to my best friend... Free Cell...



*smooches...so full of stuffed mushrooms that I'm seriously considering sticking my finger down my throat!!*
--------------
hope your holiday was as blessed as mine

Thankful

Nothing brings to light all the good things in your life like the devastating plight in someone else's...

One of the parents on the Single Parents Group that I joined in Park Slope is not only going through an ugly divorce, has no job or money, and trying to raise her young son, but she's also being evicted from her apartment. I won't go into specifics out of respect for her privacy, but lets just say the options at her disposal are limited at best right now. She has to vacate the premises. The Marshall is on his way.

Essentially, she is homeless. A college graduate, grown-ass woman with a child and no home. No one to take her in or lend her the money.

There but for the grace of god go I.

In comparison, my whole venture into single-parenthood was a cake-walk: I was able to stay with my mom until I found a place to live. I found a job- albeit a crappy one- right away, which in turn introduced me to new friends and led to a higher paying, more stable gig. My ex wasn't a total dickhead and the divorce went smoothly, and he pays his child support and half of the childcare expenses on time and without complaint every month. Plus for all my bitchin' and moanin' about how unbearable my marriage was, I have to admit that for the most part, he's a good and attentive father to K and N.

And within all those potential tight spots that life threw my way, I had friends and family to help bail me out in one way or another.

So I want to make sure those of you out there who've always been in my corner know how VERY THANKFUL I am for your help, advice, loyalty, love, support, friendship, camaraderie and all that good stuff. I'm a real moody bitch sometimes (OK all the time..sheesh!) and I'm amazed when I realize how many people I can actually call "friend." And there are lots of you.

Know that I feel lucky and BLESSED, yes, I actually wrote (and meant) BLESSED, to have you all in my life.

And I hope you all know that you can always count on my help, advice, loyalty, love, support, friendship, camaraderie and all that good stuff, whenever you need it.

*smooches...soooo many kisses that you'll actually say, "OK, enough! I get it! You like me!!*
------------
i don't like to get mushy too often, so don't get used to it!

Now It's Official.

Occasionally Lani and I will joke about how we have too much testosterone and think like men a little too much, especially when it comes to relationships and sex. Well now it has been confirmed, for me at least, via one of those cheesy quizzes found over on Oprah.com.

According to the Love Style quiz, I am:

The Director

Specific activities in the testosterone system are what distinguishes this type. Again, although we think of the hormone as male, it is shared by both sexes, and there are many full-blooded women Directors. Whatever the gender, people of this type are competitive. They strive to be top dog and have many skills to get there. They are pragmatic, tough-minded, and most notably decisive, able to make up their minds rapidly, even when faced with difficult choices. Rational analysis, logical reasoning, and objectivity are their core strengths. They also pay attention to details and can focus their attention to the exclusion of everything around them—an ability that enables them to weed out extraneous data and progress on a straightforward path toward a specific goal: the solution. Many Directors are also ingenious, theoretical, and bold in their ideas. Moreover, they are willing to take unpopular, even dangerous paths, to get to the truth. So they persist and often win.

Directors are particularly skilled at understanding machines and other rule-based systems, from computers and math problems to the details of biology, world finance, or architecture. They excel at sports, and often have an acute ear for all kinds of music. Their interests can be narrow; but they pursue them deeply and thoroughly. And they can captivate those who share their hobbies.

Placating leaves the Director cold. He or she often chooses to do a good job rather than please others. In fact, Directors are the least socially skilled of the four types. When preoccupied with work or personal goals, they can appear aloof, distant, even cold, and are generally not interested in making social connections, with the exception of those that are useful or exciting to them.

As with the other types, the traits that make Directors so successful may become grating: For example, their confidence can veer into bragging, their exactitude turn uncompromising, and their forthrightness simply seem rude. And because they often see issues in black and white, they miss the nuances of social, business, and personal situations. But thanks to their dedication, loyalty, and interest in sharing ideas, Directors make close friends. And they can be fiercely protective of those they love.

The test says I also have strong tendencies as a Negotiator and Builder, whatever the hell that means. But I like this "Director" one...anyone who knows me or befriended me or has dated me or even just had a one-night-stand with me can attest to these characteristics being ALL ME!

Not that this helps me get any insight on finding a mate- I'm still in my post-divorce, selfish, shallow, ALL-ABOUT-ME phase, where I only date eye-candy and will sometimes sleep with someone and then never call them again. But maybe one day I'll be able to put it to good use.

If you want to take the test, too, click here. I'd love to hear what each of you are...

*smooches...directing my way into spinsterhood*
------------
maybe there was some truth to that "cold and uncaring" comment after all...

The Quiet Genius.

Had K's parent-teacher conference tonight, and that, too was more of the same:

excellent grades, wonderful writer, 95 average in math, "Super Scholar" for the term...

Yeah- we breed them smart over here...did I mention they're gonna start her on 9th grade algebra...in the 7th GRADE? Don't hate...

But can I just send a lil message to her homeroom teacher, whom I feel judged me too quickly and incorrectly?

Don't misjudge my nonchalant-ness for not caring. ABSOLUTELY I'm proud of Ks achievements and grades and behavior (again, like her sister- at school NOT at home), but I've been hearing this same old schpiel since she was in pre-K.

So excuse the fuck out of me if what you had to tell me did not make me jump out of my skin. Of course K does well academically- I raised her, bitch! Those are *MY* genes in there. I expect nothing less from her than straight As across the board (so tell that music teacher to get with the program!) because she is smart and diligent and no joke about her school work. I really did not appreciate you telling me how I should react.

Don't let me have to break my foot off in your ass.

*smooches...hating to be told what to do*

-----------

so while N is building the bomb in the basement, K will be calculating how long it will take to evacuate given the velocity of the circumference of x divided by y times x squared...LMAO...I just made that shit up...

That's What Friends Are For

Recent IM conversation:

Me: I'm so evil and shallow!!

Jack: Rocky stop it!!

Jack: You are not evil!

*smooches...realizing that depth is just not my thing*
-----------
maybe when I'm old and gray I'll care about personality more than looks...

We're Not Number One!!!

WOO HOO, BI-OTCHES!!

Today, a study was released by CQ Press entitled "City Crime Rankings: Crime in Metropolitan America" naming Detroit, MI the most dangerous city in the U.S. (You can read the story here.)

New York City didn't even crack the top 5!

And while the study has many critics crying "foul play" and the FBI stating, "These rough rankings provide no insight into the numerous variables that mold crime in a particular town, city, county, state, or region..." because announcements like this can cause a mass exodus from a city, affecting its economy and such, I still have this to say to Detroit:

NA NA NA NA NAAA NAAA!!!

Now maybe friends and family will believe me when I say that the subway is totally safe at 4AM!

*smooches...a little less Jaded than I was ten minutes ago*
-----------
let's go jogging in Central Park after dark wearing a bunch of gold chains and our iPods! who's with me?

Just Call Me Sisyphus.

Motherhood is boring and overrated.

That's right. I said it.

Motherhood is like watching paint dry. Or watching a documentary on How Paint Dries. Or siting in on a 5-hour seminar at The New School on The Drying of Paint.

I tell you this because usually, I will have some sort of something to tell you on Monday about my weekends. This time I got nothing.

What is there to say except N. has a serious case of talking-itis and like a gazillion ants in her pants? Or that K. is at that age where the mere sight of that bored look on her face, as if I'm such a chore to be around, makes me want to shake her until her teeth fly out? Or that every time they argue with each other I just want to pack a bag and move to the Castro District of San Fran and change my name to Moonbeam?

For me, motherhood is like that rock that has to be pushed to the top of the mountain, everyday, only to have it slip back down to the bottom all over again at the end of the day. There is no sense of accomplishment; only a sense of "Sweet Jesus, I'll do anything if you just make it stop!!"

These "things" that live in my house drain my enthusiasm, motivation and quite frankly my will to get out of bed every morning.

I swear- I'm just NOT cut out for this mothering bullsh*t. All I can do is countdown...in 11 years I'll be done with them both.

One thing I pray for every night? That this pain in my lower abdomen- which is now not just on the right side but also on the left and has increased in frequency and intensity- means I will never ever again be able to have more children. Amen.

*smooches...looking for the escape clause in the fine print*

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

to any readers who are even fantasizing about having kids- heed my warning: they WILL kill you...slowly but surely...

Dick and Jane Have An Affair?: A Totally (Maybe) Fake Story

Here's a lil bedtime story I wrote to hold ya'll over until Monday...

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

Dick and Jane used to go out.

Dick ended the relationship, but he and Jane remained friends.

Occasionally, Dick and Jane hung out and still flirted and maybe hooked up, but nothing serious.

Months after the break-up, Dick and Jane decided to JUST BE FRIENDS for real, no extracurriculars period. Jane moved Dick into the "friend" category and moved on. Dick met a new girl and embarked on a serious relationship with her.

Jane was a little sad, but accepted it and remained friends with Dick. They sent sporadic messages from time to time to stay in touch.

A year later, after Jane wrote Dick an email to say she had a birthday gift for him- a simple CD of a band they both liked that she was going to burn- he called to say thanks.

During that phone call, Dick also asked if Jane was involved with anyone. To which Jane jokingly replied, "I'm involved with everyone," or something similar.

Then Dick proceeded to travel that dangerous road: Memory Lane. Dick talked about the good ole days with Jane. Jane offered only comic relief, only KINDA wanting to remember those days.

It eventually came out that Dick was happy with his new relationship, but a little bored. Jane knew where Dick was going with his story, but played dumb.

Dick then came straight out and propositioned Jane: would she sleep with him behind his girlfriend's back.

Jane, being the stupid, stupid, STUPID bitch that she is, replied: "Sober Jane will have to say no." Dick understood her meaning completely.

Dick and Jane agreed to touch base later in the week when he'd come by her job for his CD. Jane was left feeling confused and torn, yet intrigued.

Jane also wondered what it was about her that made Dick, and a slew of other exes, return to her after it has all been said, done and over.

Jane looked in the mirror and got her answer...she had a sign on her forehead...

*smooches...*

-----------

some story critics have stated that perhaps Jane's exes come back because Jane has the ill na-na; others think that Dick is just being the typical Dick...but can it be that basic?

But I HAVE To Talk About It...

It's no secret that I read PerezHilton all the live-long-day like it's my job. I can't help it; it's a great escape! Britney lost her kids? Chyna Doll denied at Hyde? Rachel Zoe looks like ass? ME LOVES IT!!

But I had to go on a Perez hiatus for a few days after he posted something so revoltingly disgusting, and then prompted me to click on the link without offering the proper warning about what was in store.

That ill-fated click led me to a video titled, "2 Girls, 1 Cup;" some of you might have already heard of it. Or *gasp* seen it.

First let me say that Perez usually only posts celebrity photos and videos, or some of his own asinine videos (which are really NOT funny at all! Sorry, P.). So when I saw the title I thought it was a joke video like you'd find on YouTube and the likes.

But it starts out with two females making out, only like 2-3 seconds of it, at which point I was like, "Huh? Since when does Perez post porn?" Then, by like the 5th second of the video...OMG, I can barely even type it...one of the females DEFECATES into a cup. And let me just say that at this point A) I shut off the video B) I threw up into my cereal bowl and C) I developed a phobia to plastic cups.

I've not been able or even tempted to go back and view the rest of that video- my stomach and gag reflexes can't take that shit (yes! pun intended!!!)- but from what I've read online, the girls proceed to EAT THAT SHIT and then VOMIT IN EACH OTHERS' MOUTHS.

WTF, readers? WHY? True, the videos posted on YouTube of people's reactions to this nastiness is pretty funny- I'm glad to know I'm not the only one who threw up- but still I can't help but just be so disgusted and mortified and just DAMAGED after being exposed to that ish!!

Seriously, this is what it's come to? Sex has become so blase and commonplace that humans must reduce themselves to eating shit and vomit in order to get some pleasure? Really? Nipple clamps aren't doing it for you anymore, eh?

I think these people need to stop, regroup and then start over. Slowly. Rediscover the missionary position; an oldie but a goodie...skin to skin, face to face...it can still be good. Then maybe try a lil oral: kiss a penis here, a vagina there...you know, ease back into normalcy.

If they need a thrill they can ride the Cyclone, or try crossing Queens Boulevard on a Saturday afternoon. Or better yet, go up to a NYPD officer, act like they're about to ask for directions, bitch-slap him and then run. ANYTHING is better than eating shit! Real Talk!

Honestly, I've never considered myself a prude. I mean, I'm The Jaded NYer for chrissake! But that video was just...just...just don't watch it! Don't let your friends trick you into watching it for comedy's sake. If you're bored and looking for something to do rent a movie, read a book, go for a walk. Just don't get lured into that nasty-ass video! It's NOT funny. It's NOT cool. And it will scar you for life!!

Makers of that stupid, disgusting abomination of a video are officially ON BLAST for giving me nightmares!!!

*smooches...amazed that something in this world still shocks me*

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

I know that by writing about it I draw more attention to it. but this thing is eating me up inside...I'm seriously traumatized. I had to get it out...

Her Mind? It's A Genius.

Parent-teacher conference last night at Ns school...it pretty much went as expected:

Her grades are stellar; she does all her work; she gets along with everyone; she needs to start reading books on a 3rd grade level (she's in a gifted program in the 2nd grade); she's a good writer; she participates in class; her behavior is appropriate, and she's great at math.

In fact, her teacher said, and I quote, "She's the perfect child. You've done everything right." As if my ego needed anymore stroking!

And N did predict this for herself. A few years ago during a party at my mami's house, Minnie complimented her on something, and do you know what my humble little schnookums said? "I know! My mind is a genius!" It's like that every time you praise her. For example, here's an exchange from just a week ago:

Me: Wow, I really like your painting.

N: I know, I'm really creative!

Me and K: (sighing and rolling our eyes) Oh, brother!

Some might call it confidence, and yeah, I guess it is. But in my book, that's straight up conceited...me so proud!!! She's like a mini-me!!

But back to her report from the teacher... it leads me to wonder-- why is she so "stellar" outside the house, and then the millisecond she crosses the threshold of my apartment she's a wildcat. Is it me? Do I bring out the crazy in people?

*smooches...being a proud mama for once*

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

sure she's a genius...an EEE-VIL genius...MUAHAHAHAHA!!

The First Sign of the Apocalypse!!

OH SH*T YA'LL!!!!!

It's time to stop playing around and repent for real-for real. God is mad as hell and he's not gonna take it anymore.

Check out this item I read in the news wire from DR:

Running out of plantains

Diario Libre is reporting that plantains, which are an important part of the Dominican diet, are beginning to run out, causing prices to skyrocket.

At Avenida Duarte's Mercado Nuevo only five truckloads of plantains had arrived, with prices ranging from RD$4 to RD$10 per unit. Diario Libre is reporting an incident where two men drew their guns in a dispute over plantains.

At the Mercado Modelo only two vendors had plantains, selling them for RD$10 per unit, and even cassava prices are inflating with each unit rising to RD$12 in some cases. Farmers say that the rain caused by Tropical Storm Noel ruined a large part of the plantain crop and that increased shortages are likely.

Plantains were available at supermarkets this week for prices ranging from RD$5 to RD$10 per unit.

WTF?!?! We're running out of platanos? HUH? I'm sorry, I'm not understanding this... how can we run out? How will we survive? And if platanos are costing an arm and a leg in DR, what the hell are they going to cost in Washington Heights?

Just be prepared: Dominicans are gonna be walking around in a daze for a lil bit, so please be patient with your bodega owner, waiter, hairdresser, gypsy cab driver, and friendly neighborhood blogger...

*smooches...hording bags of Chifles plantain chips in the storm cellar*

-----------

seriously, this is no

laughing matter! it's

gonna ruin

Thanksgiving!

She Was Crazy, But On The Right Track...

It's been one of those days.

One of those, "I hate everything and everyone including me" kinda days, thanks in part to a lot of people, but mostly to those with Y chromosomes.

But the hatred is not just on my behalf, it's on my friends' behalf, too. Sadly, I am not the only female with wack-ass men in her life, and that's just pathetic. Because it makes me feel like instead of my situation being the exception, it's the fucking rule!

And how depressing is that?

So I turn to the only thing I know in times like this. Valerie Solanas' SCUM Manifesto. If you haven't read it, you should. If you have read it, read it again. Go out and buy it at your local Shakespeare & Co. bookstore. It's not that big and it's only $5, but it's definitely something that belongs on your bookshelf.

Who's Valerie Solanas? She's the crazy bitch who shot Andy Warhol.

What is the SCUM Manifesto? I'll let Valerie tell you. Here are excerpts:

Life in this society being, at best, an utter bore and no aspect of society being at all relevant to women, there remains to civic-minded, responsible, thrill-seeking females only to overthrow the government, eliminate the money system, institute complete automation and destroy the male sex.

The male is a biological accident: the Y (male) gene is an incomplete X (female) gene, that is, it has an incomplete set of chromosomes. In other words, the male is an incomplete female, a walking abortion, aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples.

Eaten up with guilt, shame, fears and insecurities and obtaining, if he's lucky, a barely perceptible physical feeling, the male is, nonetheless, obsessed with screwing; he'll swim through a river of snot, wade nostril-deep through a mile of vomit, if he thinks there'll be a friendly pussy awaiting him.

Screwing is, for a man, a defense against his desire to be female.

Preach, sistah gurl, PREACH! And that's just the first few paragraphs!! I know you're just DYING to read the rest...okay, I'll save you the $5...click here for the complete text of SCUM Manifesto.

*smooches...one bad day away from straight killin a mo-fo*
------------
ok, maybe I don't completely
hate all men,
but right now a lot
of them are just
not my favorite people...

What Did I Say?...And Other Musings

My weekend in seven parts...

It's Good To Be A Girl
Sure, I hate my menstrual cycle and reproductive organs with the strength of a thousand football players on steroids, but sometimes being a girl has its advantages. Like being able to convince someone to trek all the way from Manhattan to your South BK apartment, in the rainy cold weather, to bring you ice cream and rub your back. Just because you had a bad day. Let's just say I'm a little drunk with power right now...

Bank of America...You F*$@ing Bastards!

So my Visa check card was cancelled on Friday...something about security protocol after a third party notified the bank that my card information had been stolen/compromised. Mhmm. So while I appreciate the security measure, WHEN WAS SOMEONE GOING TO TELL ME? Why did I have to find out the hard way that my card had been shut off? This is strike two with this bank...one more and I'm OUT!

Went Down Like Whiskey!
Saturday night at Lani's friend's housewarming, I drank some coconut rum liquor that seriously tasted like it was 1 part coconut milk, 1 part rum and 10 parts turpentine! I had to wash it down with some Bailey's, a sliver of the "Brown Magic" brownies and a few glasses of bubbly. My esophagus will NEVER be the same!

The Booty Call From Hell

NO. HE. DIDN'T!

Remember that ex I ran into on the way home from work a few weeks ago? Well he and I had made tentative plans to grab a coffee or something one day after work or over the weekend. You know, to catch up. So please explain to me how he translated "a coffee or something one day after work or over the weekend" into "let me call Raquel at 3AM and see what she's up to" WTF, dude? Are you seriously booty-calling me? Do you not remember that we ended BADLY? That I hated your guts? And you're BOOTY-CALLING ME?? You must be out yo' god damned mind

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
As a favor to my mom, I helped one of her friends from church edit a children's story she was working on; lovely woman she was... Everything was cool and I gave her some editorial suggestions that should help her story flow better, then she gave me a ride home. And invited me to some church function in December. To which I STUPIDLY replied: "Thanks, but I don't do church." What the hell was I thinking? She immediately went into her "Jesus is the way" sales pitch, and while I can respect that FOR HER church was the answer, I can't understand why she can't understand that it's not the answer FOR ME...

What Did I Say?
I swear- the MILLISECOND that I posted the blog about being smitten for Navy Guy, it all, come on, say it with me now folks, blew up in my face. So now I have to swallow my pride and admit that what I thought were butterflies was nothing more than lusty animalistic urges. And now they have passed and I can move on with my life like nothing ever happened. So just forget I ever mentioned him. And I'll try and forget his sexy tattooed arms and ripped abs...okay, this isn't working...

I Didn't Quit
A friend convinced me to not storm out of my job last week, especially since I didn't have a plan B. Good advice, I admit, but now I'm still stuck in that stink hole when all I want is to stay in bed in my flannel pajamas...can I get an AMEN??

*smooches...so done with everything it's not even funny!*

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

I really should just realize that I'm not the relationship type...

Top 10 Reasons Why I Can't Leave NYC...

...despite the fact that living here has me BROKE AS HELL!



10. The quality of pizza in other cities is truly sub par to Ray's Famous.

9. I require a daily dose of "crazy" that can only be found in the subways.

8. My family would never allow me to move the babies away.

7. Christmas in NYC...nothing compares to it!!

6. Something tells me I will not be able to start my media empire from Omaha.

5. I'll NEVER find a hairdresser like Josie outside of Washington Heights!

4. Every other city requires one to know how to drive...and, well, we all know my situation...

3. When the apocalypse comes, I'm 98% sure it will strike here first, and that way I won't have to deal with the fall-out.

2. My cool factor increases by 30% just by saying, "I live in New York."

1. Other cities have a 2AM last call. Here, I can party til 5!!!

*smooches...stuck here for life*
-----------
and loving every minute of it!

And Me Without A Butterfly Net...

I'm a pretty superstitious person, so sometimes I won't tell anyone anything new that I'm excited about because A) I don't want to jinx it and B) if it blows up in my face I don't want to look like an idiot.

But dammit- why shouldn't I share the good with ya'll, too? I'm always bitching about one thing or another...once in a while I know you'd like to read something that will make you smile.

So here it is.

*takes a deep breath*

I do believe I'm smitten with Navy Guy! Smitten as in I think I really like him. Is that too sappy for a Thursday morning? Is it too soon to know that after only 3 albeit AMAZING dates?

Sure there's a lot more I want to know about him before I take myself out of rotation, but he gives me that, that...I can't even describe it. It's that feeling that makes me lay down my armor and not be so guarded with him.

That feeling that puts me on cloud nine with just one of his looks. That feeling that makes me abandon my VERY STRICT "no PDA" rule and actually allow him to hold my hand IN THE STREET where everyone can see us!

AND...I even let him kiss me goodnight...IN PUBLIC!!! It's craziness; I saw him go for the lean in and instead of giving him my cheek like I'd normally do, I just let him kiss me...

What the F*CK is going on?? Who spiked my tea? This is so NOT like me at all!!

I'm gonna need 20ccs of Jaded Bitterness- STAT!

Quick, someone show me some pics of him with a hooker. Or eating babies. Or shooting up heroin. I need to see what's behind the curtain- the man or the myth?

*smooches...scared of this fuzzy, tingly feeling in my gut...*
-----------
I told ya'll...
those damn butterflies
will get ya EVERY TIME!

Someone Needs To Tell You.

And of course, that someone will have to be me.

Hey you, lady, on your way to work. The one who looks to be 65-years-old if you're a day. Yeah you. Listen up and listen good.

I'm impressed that you've been able to maintain a decent figure well into your twilight years, really I am. In fact, I'm 100% certain you're in better shape than I am. But please, for the love of Christ...

DO NOT WEAR ANYMORE MINI-SKIRTS!!!

Seriously, there should be an expiration date on those things. Like once you turn 50 you need to relinquish those bad boys! It just doesn't look good. Not at all. And the salesperson who let you leave the store with a skirt that BARELY COVERED YOUR THIGHS should be shot.

That is all.

*smooches...with my legs appropriately covered at age 32*
------------
It might be ageist of me
but really-
who wants to see
grandma in a micro-mini??

Why I Love...

...my friends.

I've said (and written about) this before, but I have some of the best friends in the world.

Yeah, they're crazy. And I mean crazy crazy (Lani...I'm looking at you...LOL). But what would I do without them? I have no idea.

At the onset of PMS Week, when Lady Estrogen had parked her bloated ass on my couch and refused to leave me alone, when I was more than likely to be down on myself and second-guess myself and feel like there's just me and no one else around to support me, they surrounded me and became my rainbows at the end of a nasty, messy rainstorm.

So I thought that I should give them a shout out. It's always nice to have good things to say once in a while...

My Baby Sister:

I consider her a friend, too, and recently, when I was feeling particularly down about something, she offered me wisdom from one of her favorite scriptures: "Speak the truth in love."


And I really appreciated it.


Jack:
He can take my angry/sad/hurt tears and turn them into ones of hilarious laughter, while still keeping it real.


Lani:
She helps to remind me to stay focused and centered and to release all the negativity around me. And yeah, sometimes we do that with a few shots of Tequila, but focused and centered we get.


L:
Real talk if I've ever heard it- she pulls no punches and pulls the mask off all the boogie-men I'm afraid of and says, "see? It's just a guy in a costume." And then everything just falls into place.


*smooches...smothered in positive energy. Here, have some...*
------------
I get by with a little help from my friends...

I'm No Goddamned Donna Reed, Okay?!

It was brought to my attention this evening that the way I speak to my kids could be considered cold and uncaring, which are characteristics not new to me. Case in point:

I come home, Lady Estrogen has me by the throat and I'm two seconds from throwing up the three crackers I was able to swallow for lunch. I've barely crossed the threshold. And here comes N. with some random paper in her hand ready to tell me her life story for the umpteenth time. As if I didn't give birth to her and already know it. What was I to do?

I've already told this child, and her sister, that when I come home from work or wherever, I need 15 minutes of silence. I need to hang up my coat, take of my shoes, dump my mail and purse on the table, let my hair down from the tight ass bun I rock almost everyday. I need to touch base with the nanny and see how the evening went. Just 15 lousy minutes.

I ask you- is that too much to hope for? 15 minutes without having to deal with whatever asinine topic N. has decided is the most important topic in the world at that moment? I mean, I love her and all, as much as I'm able to love anyone given my Jaded limitations, but DAMN! Give me a freakin' break!

So naturally I interrupted her with my usual putting up of THE HAND, giving of THE FACE, and saying, "N., please, can you let me get inside first?"

Then this certain someone who I'm on the phone with (and really hates when I refer to them in my blog, HA!!) is all like, "whatever happened to 'hi, I'm home and so happy to see you' BLAH BLAH BLAH..." You know what happened to it? My ex got it in the divorce, that's what happened to it.

Now stop telling me how to raise my damn kids!!

*smooches...only a little sorry that I let Lady Estrogen write this post...*
----------
seriously, though,
is there an operation
that will rid me of
this freakin' pain
and nausea
once and for all??

Lady Estrogen Likes "Muted" Fun

It was a relatively quiet weekend. Well, not really, but kinda yeah, compared to what I usually do when the babies go away.

Friday night I ventured out to SOBs because I (finally) had another gig to cover: Pistolera, a pretty cool band out of Brooklyn. The act that played before them, Austin TV was also pretty good- an instrumental indie rock band from Mexico City. They were so good in fact that they've become my next assignment.

Afterwards I hung out with SVA guy and we shot the shit about random things like me going back to school and the fact that the program I'm applying to requires that I take the GREs (dammit!!), and his blatant denial that his younger sister- a grown ass woman who practices law- engages in any type of sexual activity. Hon, seriously- if she's any kind of pretty, smart and successful, she's not at home baking pies every night, OK? I also gave him a mini-tour of the places I know in the West Village, if for no other reason than to keep their memories alive in my head. I'll just cry if I ever forget where my favorite vinyl record shop is the way I forgot Carmine's location...

Saturday I slept in like the lazy bum that I am before dragging myself to the International Caribbean Art Fair. And it was great! So many beautiful pieces of art (including some awesome glass pieces by DJ Medina) from galleries around the world...I'm such a nerd for beautiful art. One gallery in particular, Studio Wah, had some of the most vibrant and inviting paintings I've seen in a long time! Another painter from Puerto Rico, Jaime A. Carreras, and his exhibit partner, José Oscar Torres, also caught my eye. So much so that I'm making it a point to visit the San Juan museum that displays their work when I go for my birthday.

Afterwards I went home and did the unthinkable: I made dinner. Can you believe it? Instead of ordering enchiladas from La Asuncion or curry puffs from Thai Tony's I actually turned on my stove. On a weekend!! Then Lani came over and we ate, talked, knitted (yes- you read correctly- KNITTED) watched crazy comedy clips on YouTube like this one, before deciding to go to Reis for a little bit.

At Reis- which was kind of packed and had a freakin DJ- we hung out with a former co-worker of Lani's, a cool bartender/artist who kept us in stitches all night with his crazy antics. He even participated in my favorite drinking game-- the 2AM prank call! He also told me that at a Manhattan bar owned by Duff McKagan, on many given nights, I might find my beloved Slash (not) partaking of a drink or two...and that he is one of the nicest guys around. Excuse me while I pass out. And Google that freakin bar...

We called it a night sometime around three, which was really four according to my body's internal clock, after a much needed bag of Doritos...mmmmm...3 AM Doritos...

Today? I did nada. I had some work to do but decided, eh, I'll do it later (as in after midnight tonight). I just wanted to lay around in my flannel PJs, enjoy the last few hours of my free trial with Netflix before I cancel it tomorrow, and eat left-overs on my couch. I did take a minute to wash and dry my hair and add a couple of more rows to whatever the hell it is I'm knitting...I suppose those were my biggest accomplishments today so far.

Now I'm just waiting for the babies to come home, so that I can begin prepping for another grueling week that mostly consists of me trying not to jump in front of the oncoming F-Train every morning.

*smooches...wondering why I can't wear flannel pajamas everywhere I go*
-----------
I didn't make it to the global warming rally,
but I promise to be very Earth-conscious all month!

The Best...

...places to go for long walks in NYC.

Whether you're looking to take long romantic strolls with your boo, or need time to yourself to think about that foul, triflin' ish someone just said to you, this tiny island and its surrounding boros offer a pretty good selection of non-crowded blocks in which to do it.

Please note: I've only been to Staten Island like, um, four times in my whole life, so I apologize to anyone who is from there-- I'm not including your boro in this list simply because I don't know it very well. Feel free to leave suggestions in the comments section.

Manhattan

In lower Manhattan, the best place to get lost in yourself while getting your walk on is on the winding side streets of the West Village, but take it about two blocks west of NYU unless you want to run into those crazy art students.

The Upper West Side, particularly Columbus and Amsterdam Avenues north of 68th Street, are very nice places to not only walk but to discover cute little shops and restaurants and the occasional rare and used book store.

Brooklyn

Anywhere along Prospect Park, well, except on that side (ya'll know which one I mean...) is a pretty nice place to walk.

I've also found that, a brisk, leisurely walk along Greenwood Cemetery is sometimes just what the doctor ordered. You know, if I actually WENT to the doctor..

In Bed-Stuy- YES, Bed-Stuy, get over yourselves!- Greene Avenue has some really cute brownstones from about Patchen Avenue all the way to Fulton Street.

Near my old job in the Bensonhurst area, I used to walk for a bit along West 6th Street or Avenue N, and oddly enough, found it to be quite enjoyable.

Queens

First and foremost- the boardwalk at Far Rockaway. Even in the winter. If after that walk you don't feel better, well, then, there's something wrong with you.

The little residential enclaves in Jamaica Heights. It's almost like you're not even in NYC anymore. It's more like you've fallen into this quiet suburban oasis in the middle of chaos.

The jogging/running paths in Alley Pond Park...such a great escape!

Anywhere in Flushing Meadows/Corona Park.

The Bronx

Hands down- you need to walk the hilly nabes of Riverdale and Fieldston. You'll not only clear your head but you'll get an awesome workout!

Especially of note: you can walk along Palisades and get a glimpse of the river, or walk all of Riverdale Avenue straight up into Yonkers. Not that you'd want to go to Yonkers, but I'm just saying...

*smooches...walking and walking until it all makes sense*

-----------

where do you walk?

what have I missed?

I'm Going Back to School, And That's That.

Mohandas Gandhi said to me today (via Google's quote of the day):

"Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever."

I read that and immediately, the thought that popped into my head was: I NEED TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL. Regardless of the cost. Regardless of the time and effort. Regardless of how many of my friends and family are rolling their eyes right now as they read this-- I am going back to school.

Some people collect seashells and it makes them happy to have the shells displayed on a shelf. You know what makes me happy? Not men, not alcohol, not even my kids (yeah I said it...and what?). Learning. Homework. Term papers. Special projects. Final exams. Weird, but true. I get high off that shit. It's what I like to do; it's what I want to do; it's how I fill my void: acquiring as much knowledge as I can before the devil knows I'm dead.

Will I die a pauper from the school debts I have accumulated? Absolutely. Do I care? Not a damn bit. Why? Because I've never really known money. We aren't really friends. I dare say, I don't even care for it. So not having any later isn't going to be any different than not having any now. I might as well at least throw my money away doing something I love.

Learning.

*smooches...enrolling in CUNY for the Spring 07 semester*
-----------
and at the end of
the day
all I will have to
show for all
my book-learnin'
is just that--
all my book-learnin'.

and you know what?
it's more than enough.