OK, No, I'm Sorry. This Is Not Acceptable!

from the AP news wire:

Poor Haitians Resort to Eating Dirt
By JONATHAN M. KATZ

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti (AP) — It was lunchtime in one of Haiti's worst slums, and Charlene Dumas was eating mud. With food prices rising, Haiti's poorest can't afford even a daily plate of rice, and some take desperate measures to fill their bellies. Charlene, 16 with a 1-month-old son, has come to rely on a traditional Haitian remedy for hunger pangs: cookies made of dried yellow dirt from the country's central plateau.

The mud has long been prized by pregnant women and children here as an antacid and source of calcium. But in places like Cite Soleil, the oceanside slum where Charlene shares a two-room house with her baby, five siblings and two unemployed parents, cookies made of dirt, salt and vegetable shortening have become a regular meal.

Read the rest of the article here.

On what planet is this okay?? And here I am worrying that I have TOO MUCH to eat! It just makes me want to cry.

But I won't. Tears won't feed them.

I'm not rich, and I know most of you aren't either. And heck, these are supposed to be my sworn enemies. But Haitian or not, when I hear that BABIES have to eat dirt to survive, I cannot, as a mother, sit back and let that happen.

So if you can or want to, or know someone who can or wants to, take a moment to check into organizations like www.haitichildren.com that try to make a difference.

*smooches...not trying to preach, just trying to inform*
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just... don't tell my grandparents, okay?

A Movement Grows In Brooklyn

Saw this spray-painted on the ground in Brooklyn Bridge Park:




*smooches...finding new things to love about Brooklyn everyday*
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but don't move here; we got enough people already!

Happiness Is...

Waking up on a Wednesday to the realization that you took Thursday and Friday off from work, and the sheer excitement of a four day weekend makes you dance in your underwear for 20 minutes.










*smooches...so happy right now that I might just burst*
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I never saw myself grooving to a Good Charlotte tune, but hey, I guess there's a first time for everything

It's SO Hard To Find Good Help!

I don't mean to sound like a snob at all, but my nanny situation is driving me to drink! I have been through no less than EIGHT caregivers/afterschool programs for my girls since their father and I split in 2005, and only THREE of those were worth the money! And two of those were programs, not people!!

Basically, I've only had one nanny that was any good, and I lost her to some swanky Manhattan family who offered her a fulltime gig caring for babies PLUS paid vacation. I really couldn't blame her for leaving; my girls LOVED her and I wish her all the best.

But this one we have now... I mean, okay, she's not horrible per se, but when I add up all the little things that annoy me about how she cares for my girls, it equals her not being worth the $15 per hour I hand her every week.

My gripes with her include but are not limited to:

>Her not having a working cell phone. She received a pay-per-use one during the holidays, but never adds money to it. So in an emergency I can't reach her and vice versa (I don't have a landline in my apartment). She actually said that I should install the landline and I'm like WHAT?? I'd NEVER use it- that's why I don't have one.

>I think she stole from me. It wasn't a lot and I've yet to verify it, but the doubt is there like a huge pink elephant in the room.

>She's been late, a lot, to pick up my daughter from school. I really hate getting that call from the school telling me little N is sitting in the office like a red-headed step-child waiting to be picked up! That pisses me off and makes me feel like a bad parent!!!

>She doesn't play with N. My last Nanny took N to the park, played dolls, even helped with homework and crafts. This one sits on the couch reading a book, chatting on MySpace or, as I was just informed by K, SLEEPING!!!! So I'm paying her to SLEEP on MY COUCH?!?! MY COUCH?!?! Hell to the naw...

>She ain't got no SSI or Tax ID number. I just gave her an ultimatum last week- get a tax ID number or I'll be forced to replace you. I'm sorry, but there are two entities I don't fuck with: The Mafia and The Governement, and I'm not about to feel Uncle Sam's wrath because I'm employing an illegal. No thank you!!!

>N doesn't like her. I usually will go with the kids' feelings on this, because if the kids don't like you something is wrong there; it's not a good fit. K is indifferent to the whole thing, but the nanny isn't really there for her anyway, seeing as she's 12. She's mostly there for N and now I'm hearing that she doesn't even really pay her any mind.

Needless to say, but I will say it, I've been looking into alternatives for after school care for K and N. And I hate to do it because I know my nanny has a little son in Trinidad she's trying to care for, but I have two daughters in Brooklyn that I have to provide the best care for. And as bad as I feel for her struggle, because I feel it, I empathize, and am one paycheck away from being in the same boat, I don't feel she's the best care I can provide for them.

*smooches...hating my Gemini indecisiveness and empathetic ways!*
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I never want to be the one to cause a mom to not be able to feed her kid, but what are my choices here?

And did I also mention that my housekeeper is M.I.A.?? Can I please catch a freakin' break here??

Haven't Forgotten About You...

See, what had happened was...

When one is busy being active with one's kids and getting exercise and keeping a promise to NOT be glued to the computer all the live long day, one forgets to update one's blog.

I won't let it happen again, promise.

I'll update sometime tonight or tomorrow with all the luscious details of what's been going on at Casa Penzo.

*smooches...amazed at how easy it was to forget about this blog while living my "new" life*
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plus I've been busy playing with Roscoe; I love that mo-fo!

Linda Is My New Idol

So I've been looking for a visual motivator to place on my fridge and in my journal to remind me of my fitness goals whenever I

a) go grab a snack when I'm not really hungry and
b) contemplate going to McDonald's for some crack, er, I mean fries.

And boy did I find it! And in a subway ad of all places!!

This here is Linda Celeste Sims of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater:



And her body is the body I'm aiming for by the end of this year. Not the bikini body I want for Puerto Rico, no that's different. I mean by next January, not only do I want to be rid of all my excess weight, but I want a dancer's body- lean and muscular and strong like a mutha-f*cker.

Do you see the definition in her arms and legs? This bitch is FIERCE!! I know it will probably cost me money (dance classes, a personal trainer, better/leaner cuts of organic food) but dammit, look at that body:


It would be worth every penny!

*smooches...mad that it took me so long to want to get fit*
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the money shouldn't be much of a problem; I'll just use the cash I'm not spending on take-out. and yes, the amounts are comparable; sad, isn't it?

Officer, I Tried To Cheer Him Up...

Text exchange between me and Jack. Or is it Jack and I? OMG- I've only been out of school for a few months and already my brain is turning to mush...

Jack: I hate the bmv

Me: Me too

Jack: Fuckers

Me: Their loss

Jack: I AGREE

Me: I sent you some comedy

Jack: What's funny here is that you think I'm getting off the couch


*smooches...having a hard time remembering what I did with my time before Jack*
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if it's the last thing I do, I will get that mo-fo off the couch!

A New Addition To The Penzo Family

Meet Roscoe:

My brand new LG Chocolate phone in Black Cherry. Isn't he GORGEOUS??

*smooches...so in love with this "new in two" promotion*
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dear Verizon: you're plans are expensive as all hell, but gosh darn it! I *heart* you...

(Almost) Picture Perfect

Photo of the Empire State Building, lit up for the Giants on Sunday, January 20th when they showed the Packers the business end of a championship game...






*smooches...excited for the showdown with those pinche Patriots!*
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the stress of this game might actually kill me...

Coño, Tejada!

Si te mandan pa' Nagua será por tu propia culpa, idiota!!!

Dominican baseball player Miguel Tejada, currently a Houston Astro, is facing possible deportation and loss of his green card because of this steroid BS:

Read the full article here.

*smooches...hanging my head in shame because of this mo-fo*
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is it really that serious that he'd risk his livelihood for it?

Operation Bikini Body, Day 6: Time Is Money

So far I have been pretty good at staying active.

After the first day at Bally's (Thursday), I power-walked for about 45min on Saturday morning(from my house to Prospect Park, through the park for a little bit and then back) and then did some ab work and some basic Yoga stretches. It was BRICK outside, but I did it.

On Monday, I took the day off from work and went back to Bally's for 20 minutes on the elliptical (I *heart* this machine) and then 20 minutes working my arms and abs (OUCH!).

So naturally I wanted to work out today (to keep a one day yes, one day no kind of schedule), but the Universe brought these facts to my attention:

1) My left arm is hurting like a BITCH. I either slept on it too long last night or my carpal tunnel is getting worse. Basically, when I bend it the pain is almost unbearable. I say almost because I'm pretty sure that the pain in my side is worse, and that has proven to be very bearable for the past three years.

2) If I go to the gym today and tomorrow and still keep my shrink appointment on Friday, which, lets all just agree is VERY necessary, okay, I will be in a financial bind. Basically, I can't afford to pay my nanny for the extra time and still pay my co-pay and make all my other bills and still have money for food and emergencies, etc.

BUT... I know if I lose this exercise momentum I will get sucked back into the couch... so do I go broke or go home? That is the question...

*smooches...not sure that the lil bit of cardio that I can get away with in my apartment is enough to count as a workout*
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maybe if I clean my bathroom and scrub out the fridge that will count towards my activity points for the day?

The Best...

...buffalo wings in the city.

In the early nineties, my family moved up to the Buffalo area. Hamburg, NY to be exact. Hamburg's neighboring town, Orchard Park, just happens to be the birthplace of the Buffalo wings, so you can imagine the yummy yum yum yum food we ordered on many a lazy afternoon.
After I returned to the NYC area, I was going through some serious wing withdrawal, and everywhere I went I ordered wings in the hopes that it would be the same as my beloved Blasdell Pizza shop. More times than not it was a let down. Only these two places knew what the hell they were doing:

Atomic Wings, locations all over Manhattan
The owner is from the Buffalo area and insisted upon using the same recipe as his Upstate colleagues. And goddamn if I don't thank him for that everyday!! Don't forget to order the waffle fries when you go there; they are sooooo good, too!

The Barbecue Pit, Riverdale, NY
I don't know if they are even still in business, but I ordered their delicious wings so often that they had my name on file. If they are no longer around, I feel sorry for the Manhattan College population...

*smooches...trying desperately to stay away from wings for at least two months*
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I'm sure wings are the reason I gained my Freshman Fifteen in college...

January's Soapbox: Celebrities and Drugs

As an avid PerezHilton fan, I'm sorry to say that as of today I've had it up to
----------------> HERE!!!
with celebrities and their drug use and all that shit. I'm finished! I can't care about these people anymore! Except, of course, my beloveds: John, Janeane, Lily, Johnny and Winona. Everybody else can just go somewhere...

Today, Heath Ledger OD'd in an apartment in Manhattan. What the fuck? Oh I'm sorry- is having the world at your feet and ZERO money problems too much for you too handle? BOO-FUCKING-HOO!!! Get a fucking grip!

And while you're at it, tell Amy and Britney to get their shit together, too. I'm too through...

*no smooches today...*
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at least I can concentrate on more important things now... like when are the Degrassi High DVDs going to be available on Netflix???

Laziness Costs Money

I just came to that realization, even though everybody else in the free world probably already knew it, and my mom has been trying to drill into my head for many, many years.

This morning, I was running late (as usual), because I pressed the snooze button too much (as usual) because I was up late watching Celebrity Rehab on VH1.com (as usual), and didn't have time to make breakfast. So I grabbed an English muffin, some turkey bacon, and decided to buy whatever else I needed to eat today. I was seriously craving a hard boiled egg (must be low on protein) and some pineapple, so I bought some at the deli by my job. You know, the kind that charges you by the pound? Well, guess how much two hard boiled eggs, three chunks of cantaloupe and two slices of pineapple cost me? FOUR DOLLARS.

Meanwhile at home, I have a dozen organic, free range eggs in the fridge that only cost me $2.49, and a whole cantaloupe I bought for two bucks.

You do the math...and here I spend so much time wondering why at the end of the month I'm always praying for my rent check to clear! Duh!!

All this on the day when I was supposed to be on a plane to sunny California for L's birthday extravaganza, but couldn't due to lack of funds.

I'm salty!!

*smooches...so done with being lazy*
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now that I'm off the couch, I'll be a force to be reckoned with, the likes of which you have NEVER seen!!

Operation Bikini Body, Day 1: Julie Tries To Kill Me

When Nina came to visit in October, we talked about going to Puerto Rico over Memorial Day Weekend for my birthday. And it sounded like loads of fun in the sun so I really really want to go.

But not with this body in its present state.

So right after New Year's I took advantage of sigining up for eight free weeks at Bally's. Tonight was my first visit. And on the first visit, they set you up with a trainer who'll measure you and weigh you and show you the ropes of what you need to be doing to reach your specific targets. My trainer for the evening was Julie.

She had called me the night before to confirm and sounded really chipper, so right away anxiety set it. I'd had a trainer before- back in the spring of 2004- so I knew what to expect. And the fact that Julie was happy about that was scary. But whatever; it was do or die. I have a Puerto Rican getaway to plan. (Gosh, I can think of sooo many jokes about that phrase right now but I don't want to get off topic...)

So, even though I had a tiny family emergency at home and a slight wardrobe malfunction, and despite the fact that someone must've done a wicked rain dance last night and RUINED my 'do, I went to the gym.

The Good

1. I haven't gained any weight; I've been holding steady in the mid-to-low 170's for months now (yay, me!
   
2. Julie was not some crazy muscle head drill sergeant
   
3. Apparently I have nice legs (it pays to be afraid of learning to drive)
   
4. During the warm up I was able to reach my target heart rate and didn't even pass out (but DAMN I was thirsty!!)
   
5. My BMI was not terrible: 25.1- right on the border of healthy and OH MY GOD YOU'RE GOING TO DIE
   

The Bad

1. About 1/3 of my body? Made up of FAT y'all! I've officially given up McDonald's.
   
2. My waist is STILL a shocking 37 1/8 (Julie said to make allowances for the clothes I had on, but unless the T-shirt was 20 inches thick, I'll pass)
   
3. I need to buy new sneakers. Like yesterday.
   
4. I also need one or three super-industrious sports bras. Julie didn't mention it, but she didn't have to.
   
5. During the workout I got lightheaded and nauseous. I mean how out of shape does one have to be to actually get nauseous from jumping rope and doing a few reps with a resistance band?
   

The Ugly

There's only one:



That there belly? Yeah... it's NOT INVITED to Puerto Rico!

It was a tough workout. I'm not an active person and I don't like to sweat. I hate for my feet to ever leave the ground simultaneously and I don't like lifting stuff over my head. And I especially hate feeling the burn in my belly halfway through my set of crunches. Not to mention the soreness the morning after. Unless, of course, it's the morning after sex.

BUT... if it means I won't need open heart surgery like my aunt, or need diabetes medication like the generations of women before me, or that my girls will learn a valuable lesson in staying in shape and not being a slothy glutton, then I guess I can take a little pain, you know, for the team. I mean heck, I've been walking around with this pain in my lower abs for three years; what's a few days a week at Bally's with Julie, AKA The Terminator!


PS- I'd like to extend a special, extra stankelicious side-eye to all the 3 to 4 inch-heeled shoes I've ever worn in my life, from the super chunky platforms I wore in high school to the cutesy girly white pumps with the little cherries on them that I wore to Mari's graduation, for fucking up my knees and back. I officially hate you all!!!

*smooches...impressed that I was even able to lift my arms long enough to type this post*
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OW! My Liver!!

If I Had One Wish

I'd wish for patience...


*smooches...fresh from walking behind the SLOWEST HUMAN BEING KNOWN TO MAN*
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I don't care if you're 80, get on up out my way, dammit! I only get 30 minutes for lunch!!!

Racial Profiling On The F-Train

Where I board the train in the mornings is normally early enough in the F-train's route that I can pretty much count on getting a seat. Usually the train doesn't fill up until we get to Park Slope.

But on the off chance that the train reaches me already kind of full and no open seats are available, I have to play a little game I like to call Racial Profiling on the F-train.

Now what this entails is strategically placing myself in front of the person I think will be leaving the train soon enough so that I can grab their seat and catch a few zzzzz's before I get to work. It's a method I have perfected since I began this job in Gramercy Park, and so far have found it has a 95% success rate.

Today, I'm going to share this method with you.

First, you have to consider what stops lie ahead of you. For me, it's stops along Park Slope, Red Hook, Cobble Hill and then Jay Street in Downtown Brooklyn that I have to consider first. Those stops are usually the favorites of young kids on their way to school. Especially Black or Latino riders- I'm almost always certain that they will disembark at Jay Street to transfer for the A-train AKA the Negro Express.

If by chance I cannot position myself anywhere near these potential seats, I look for any Hasidic passengers or Asians. They are the likely candidates to get off at Delancey Street or East Broadway, respectively; either way I can grab their seats for enough of a rest before I get to 23rd.

Of course, you have to customize this method to fit your particular train route, but you get the drift. After a while, you'll find that you will become an expert and predicting which seats will become available and which people are getting off at the same stop as you.

And needless to say, sometimes life will throw you a curve ball, like the white woman who got off at Jay Street today and gave me her seat, even though I was anxiously awaiting the window seats occupied by the sleeping black couple to her right.

When that happens, you gotta just chalk it up to experience. As in, I should have realized they were in a deep sleep, which meant they had no intention of getting off the train any time soon, but the white woman was at the edge of her seat, literally, which indicated that she had no need to get comfortable because she was leaving soon.

See how that works? Just doing my part to educate the masses...

*smooches...really, really glad that Al Farton doesn't read this blog*
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actually, let him read it! I could use the publicity...

Reason #42,734 Why I'm Going To Hell

I almost fell out of my chair laughing hysterically at this clip:




I mean tears were actually streaming down my face! I'm just all sorts of wrong...

*smooches...still chuckling at that slo-mo playback*
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I can't help it; I always laugh at inappropriate times

In My Dictionary, Pt. 3

The third in a series of vocabulary lessons, this installment includes a boudoir term crucial to this Jaded NYer:


The Shoulder Tap: A maneuver used to let your sexual partner know that what they are doing is wack as hell and they need to cease and desist, as seen in episode 21 of season 6 of Seinfeld

How to use it in everyday conversation:

Girl #1: So how was last night?

Girl #2: CHILD! He tried this new move straight out of some dumb-ass porno and I had to give him the shoulder tap!


Use it in good health!

*smooches...proud to never have been a recipient of said maneuver*
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...but I have dished it out generously on many an occasion. sorry, fellas!

It's OK To Just Be In Love With Love

Long, long, ago, sometime in the late 80's to be exact, I resigned myself to the fact that soul mates are bullshit, and that the best any of us can hope for is someone with whom you don't mind sharing a bathroom and who, on more than one occasion, will give you a mind-altering orgasm. Ok, maybe that last part didn't occur to me until the mid-nineties, but you get my drift.

But that only applied in my real world life.

In my fantasy world life, I was a hopeless romantic. Since I wasn't allowed out, ever, I'd spend most of my time (before prime time TV shows came on) listening to music. And if it wasn't time to Get The Led Out on 102.7 (Where Rock Lives!!) most likely I was allowing myself to drown in some deep, deep (translation: sappy) love songs. Bon Jovi swore that he'd be there for me. Heat Wave promised to love me always and forever. And Prince just wanted to see me laughing in the purple rain. And it was all so warm and fuzzy and beautiful.

I hear from my friends and family that sometimes I'm a little too harsh on men. And I will cop to that. But I have to say 1) a lot of them LIKE it; I stay treating them like crap and they keep coming back for more, and 2) I treat them that way because to me, they'll never live up to the fantasy love song guys, so why bother? It's the fantasy love song guy that I want. Even if he doesn't exist.

Of course part of me wants a life partner; I've made fun of that "no man is an island" saying before but I believe it. No one can truly be happy being alone 100% of the time. But there's another, bigger, badder part of me that just can't be bothered with the compromise and ego stroking and trust and care and devotion and consideration and, well, the work it takes to develop and maintain a relationship. I just plumb don't want to work that hard. I don't want to give so much of myself when frankly, I just got it back.

I'm in this sort of selfish phase where a small thing like calling me "ma" when you text me will get you dumped, sending me a Christmas gift will have me rolling my eyes and saying, "Great! Now I have to say Thank You," and I find myself getting up to get dressed, leaving like a thief in the night after I've gotten mine, not really concerned with whether or not he's gotten his. (It's really just NOT my problem!)

So I just chug along, by myself, half wanting love and half hiding from it, all from behind this very sturdy, well-built brick wall I've got around me.

And that's okay, because even in my loneliest of lonely nights, when it's cold and rainy outside and my Queen-sized bed seem too ginormous for just lil ol' me, I know that fantasy love song guy is just a click away. And he never lets me down.

*smooches...fending off dementia after only 13 days of giving up on men*
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it's gonna be a loooooonnnnnnng year

"Sha-LUNGE!"

The gauntlet? Oh it's been DROPPED!

As a result of my previous post, a bet arose between Lani and I, and now my sister is in on it, too:

If Barack Obama is elected into the White House in 2008, I will date a white guy.

But not just ANY white guy; a white guy of my sister's choosing. And not only do I have to go out on a date with him, but I have to let mami meet him.

Let the games begin...

*smooches...knowing full well this racist-ass country ain't ready for no coloreds in the Oval Office, unless they bringing in the lunch order*
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this here is my small contribution to the democratic process...LMAO!!

And The Cheese Stands Alone

I officially have no single girlfriends in the City; little by little everyone has paired off and left me with little to no options when it's time to party.

And no offense to my chicas- I'm super happy y'all found mates- but my idea of a good time does not include your man. And none of them reading this should in any way feel that they need to apologize for their happiness, because I'm not sad or lacking. Just remember that I'm single BY CHOICE.

But back to my point-- I've been left with no option but to *GASP* make new friends. At age 32. Do you know how hard that is? To try and bond with another female- a jealous, snippy, bitchy, hormonal female- at this age? UGH! I'm not looking forward to it, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna play third wheel to my friends and their significant others on the few nights I have free to party and wild out.

Because my biggest fear is that now that they all have someone, they will be tempted to set me up, get ME paired off and placed in that same comfort zone they've found. And that is absolutely NOT what I want. No set ups with his friends. No, "I know the perfect guy for you" should ever be directed at me- that's just too much pressure, the likes of which I will surely crumble under...

This is not to say I will throw my girlfriends away- OH HELL NO! Those are my ride or die bitches!! But now that they have someone they are accountable to and have to consider when making plans, it's kind of hard to expect them to be free on Saturday nights for random car rides to Boston at the drop of a hat.

I suppose for the time being, until I meet some other cool, SINGLE females, I'll have to go back to my high school days and just buddy up with the fellas; they're so much easier to be friends with- straight shooters, no bullshit, no fear. And they usually like to pay for everything...

*smooches...getting my brain ready for sports watchin' and Spades tourneys with the guys*
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side note observation: they've all paired off with white dudes... maybe I'm wrong in my exclusion of Anglos in my own search?

...

Nah; I needs me a brotha...

What Will The NRA Say?

There was this National Rifle Association slogan out a while ago that stated:

"Guns don't kill people, people kill people"

Oh really? Really? Well, someone should have relayed that message to this guy's dog...



from Reuters:

A Houston-area man was killed in a hunting accident after his dog stepped on a loaded shotgun in the back of a pick-up truck, triggering a blast that pierced the vehicle and the hunter's leg, a local sheriff said.

Perry Price, a 46-year-old math teacher, shot a goose on Saturday then put his gun in the back of the truck where the dog was waiting to retrieve the bird.

"I've been in law enforcement 20 years and this is probably the strangest one I've had," said Chambers County Sheriff Joe LaRive.

Investigators found paw prints and mud from the dog, a chocolate Labrador retriever named Arthur, on the shotgun, LaRive said.

Price was taken to a local hospital, but died from a loss of blood after doctors were unable to revive him.

(Reporting by Anna Driver in Houston, editing by Todd Eastham)

Mhmm... survival of the fittest...


*smooches...what you got to say 'bout that, Mr. Heston?
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all I'm sayin is that if he'd had, lets say, a baseball bat in the back of the truck, he'd still be alive...

In Case Your Baby Gets Jealous Of The Cat...

...you can buy them their own wig here.



Because, of course, every parent dreams of their daughter being just like Lil Kim!

*smooches...understanding the hustle, but still, damn...*
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I think I'll start my own online company selling nail polish for dogs; I think it will be a big hit, no?

You Know What Your Cat Needs?

A wig.



No cat is complete without one.

Don't be selfish- give your cat what it's been lacking all these years.

A god damned wig.

*smooches...WISHING I was making this up*
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you know, I used to think that clothes for dogs was the ultimate in stupid, but, no, I stand corrected...

Aw Sookie Sookie Now...

from the DR newswire:

Dominican appointed to Court of Appeals

Rolando Acosta became the first Dominican to be appointed to the New York Court of Appeals. Acosta was appointed by NY Governor Eliot Spitzer. Originally from Santiago, Acosta moved to the US at the age of 14. He will serve on the first division of the Court, overseeing Manhattan and the Bronx. Diario Libre writes that Acosta is one of New York's most seasoned judges, issuing dozens of verdicts and arguments that have been published both locally and nationally.

A country boy, too! Can you imagine bachata playing from his office? The DR flag on his desk? Adobo smells coming from his office during lunch? Whippin' out his chancleta to beat a fool for committing a crime? The possibilities are endless!

And an Acosta, to boot! I bet we're related...

*smooches...hoping Rolando doesn't get caught smoking crack with a hooker*
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go Rolando, it's yo' birthday, we gonna party like it's yo' birthday...

I HAVE ARRIVED!!!!!!

I've been toiling and typing till my fingers bleed since 2005 and finally, FINALLY, I've made it as a blogger...

I GOT HATE MAIL!!! Yes, me, ME!!! I thought this day would never come!!

It was for the post about the dude who killed/ate his girl, because I automatically assumed dude was white and said (wrote) so in the blog. In my defense, c'mon people, usually when stuff like this goes down, the culprit is some dorky looking white dude with a mullet and 80's glasses who weighs like 30lbs wet!

But whatever, that's not the point: I GOT MY FIRST PIECE OF HATE MAIL!! I feel so special...

*smooches...for the person who took a minute from his/her cross-burnings to leave me a comment*
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I'd like to thank all the little people I had to step on to get to this point; all the nationalities and races I've made fun of- Mexicans, Blacks, Whites, Indians, Middle Easterners, Jewish, Dominicans (whoop whoop!) and Haitians, ESPECIALLY Haitians (you guys ROCK! Now go pick my cane, boy! LOL...I kid, I kid)... you all hold a special place in my heart...*sniffle sniffle* I promised myself I wouldn't cry...

Stay Out Of Sunset Park

Within just a couple of days two different people were run down by cars in the streets of Sunset Park.

Pedestrians Not Safe!

So now it's not safe to cross the street? Where's my damn hover board already...


*smooches...mad at the Jetsons and all their empty promises*
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so, y'all still think I should get a license?

That's Some White People Bullsh*t Right There!

UPDATE: I stand corrected... dude was a brotha...

A man killed his girlfriend, then filleted and cooked parts of her body before calling police to tell them what he was doing, authorities said Sunday.

Christopher Lee McCuin, 25, called 911 on Saturday and told an emergency dispatcher he had killed Jana Shearer, 21, and was boiling her body parts at his mother's home, said Smith County Sheriff J.B. Smith.

When authorities arrived at the home, they found Shearer's mutilated body, one ear boiling in a pot of water on the stove and a fork sticking out of some human flesh sitting on a plate on the kitchen table.

Authorities said it was unclear whether McCuin consumed any part of Shearer's body.

"We cannot prove that he did," Smith told The Associated Press. "He was either going to, had been or led us to think that he was doing it."

(Read the article here.)

You gotta be on that extra special super-hyped-up crack to kill your woman AND THEN cook her AND THEN CALL THE COPS TO TELL THEM SO. My decision to stay single this year was suuuuch a good idea...

*smooches...staying single to stay alive, goddammit!*
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I think he ate her flesh; I bet you he ate that shit...

But What About Us Drunks?

Read this on AP News:

Two Baylor College of Medicine researchers in Houston are working on a cocaine vaccine they hope will become the first-ever medication to treat people hooked on the drug. "For people who have a desire to stop using, the vaccine should be very useful," said Dr. Tom Kosten, a psychiatry professor who is being assisted in the research by his wife, Therese, a psychologist and neuroscientist. "At some point, most users will give in to temptation and relapse, but those for whom the vaccine is effective won't get high and will lose interest."

The vaccine, currently in clinical trials, stimulates the immune system to attack the real thing when it's taken.

(Read the rest of the article here)

Dang, for real? See this is the kind of shit that first attracted me to the sciences. But then I read closely and realized how long these mofos were working on this shyt and decided, I made the right choice in becoming a writer.


*smooches...still not willing to try cocaine*
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that is pretty cool, though, you have to admit... science is da bomb!

Remnants

Found on a post-it during my end of the year clean-up:


Are you okay?


Oh no, my eyeball fell out, but I'm okay.


*smooches...so confused at my own notes*
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who the hell did I have that conversation with?

Even The Stars Know I Belong In School

Found this on MSN:


Gemini (May 21 - June 21)
Use your natural curiosity to your advantage. Take the opportunity to really learn something new this coming year. Don't just skim the surface, but really delve deeply into a topic that interests you. If you've been thinking of getting an advanced degree, it's time to stop talking about it and just do it! Where there's a will, there's definitely a way. If you can find a way to harness some of that scattered energy, the sky is the limit.


How can I fight destiny?


*smooches...studying for the GREs like the nerd girl I am*
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that's right, I said nerd, and what?!

Just Registered To Vote

Will I exercise my right? Not sure. But I like having options.

*smooches...stickin' it to the man, maybe*
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hey Ev, let Peter know!

Promises, Not Resolutions

I tried to stay away from doing something like this, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to having a small list of tiny changes I wanted to make this year. And I'm thinking if I put it up in a public forum, I'd be more inclined to keep these "promises" I'm making to myself.

1. Step Away From The Computer
At first this might sound counter-productive to my pursuit of total media domination, but the computer in my house is not just my only connection to the outside world, but it's such a source of distraction, too. There's MySpace, PerezHilton, the trillion blogs I read, iTunes, that website where I watch Gilmore Girls and a myriad of bootleg films, YouTube (god how I LOVE LOVE LOVE YouTube!)... all of these keep me from doing stuff. Slowly but surely I promise to ween myself off of this machine, this ploy by the Japanese to stupefy Americans so that they can take over the world. A-HA! Didn't think I knew about that, did you Sony??? Mhmm...

2. Get Some Damn Sleep
More than ever, I felt the effects of my chronic insomniac ways in 2007. Did I mention how many times I fell asleep on the train and missed my stop? So in 2008 I'm going to force myself to get more sleep. For the sake of my skin, my eyes, and my physical and mental health, I promise to put my ass to bed at a decent hour. Like sometime before midnight!

3. Shut Off My Cell Phone
That's right, I'm shutting off that bad boy between the hours of 11:00PM and 8:00AM on weekdays, and maybe even on the weekends if I feel so inclined. Why? Why not? I don't plan on being up at that time anymore so why waste the battery power? Besides, it will deter the would-be booty callers. Eventually they'll get the point that I ain't interested anymore. I promise to never again entertain midnight callers. Sorry, babes. Just leave a message and I'll get it in the mornin'.

4. Limit Take Out Orders
I can't say that I will eliminate them altogether, because take-out is the working, single mom's best friend. But in December 2007 alone I think I ordered more food than I cooked. And that hurts the pockets just as much as it hurts the arteries. I promise that this year, take-out will be a once in a blue moon treat, or used in case of emergency, and not a regular occurrence.

5. Organize All My Photos
Ask anybody- I have 50 million trillion photos in boxes and envelopes in my apartment. You know how once in a while you'll hear a story of someone trapped under a pile of newspapers or any other kind of junk they collect? With me, it's photos. I need to organize these soooo badly! I mean, honestly, it's so out of control that I have no less that EIGHT ROLLS OF FILM to be developed...from only god knows when. I promise that before January 1st, 2009, every photo will be archived and organized and cataloged to a level that will make my mom faint... just wait!

6. Write More Letters
People don't write letters anymore, have you noticed that? I miss it! I used to write (and receive) some really awesome letters to (and from) friends. But then email and cell phones and IMs took over and *BAM* no more letters. Well, not anymore. I promise to write a letter to someone, anyone, at least once a month. So don't be alarmed to see some correspondence from me in with your ConEd bill; it's not anthrax, I promise!

7. Be More Concerned With My Health
It's come to my attention that stuff left untreated just gets worse...who knew? Despite a few setbacks with the so-called licensed physicians of Brooklyn, I promise to forge ahead in my search for the cause of the mysterious pain in my side.

8. Rid Myself Of Excess
No one on the planet needs more than 5 or 6 pairs of shoes. Especially not this Brooklyn Bohemian. So why do I own like 20 of them? 16 of which I NEVER wear? And the cameras: the digital, the manual SLR, the brownie twin reflex, the Polaroid...no wonder the photographs and undeveloped rolls of film are taking over my apartment! And don't even get me started on my unhealthy obsession with writing instruments... I promise to try and not be a glutton- in my buying, eating, etc- and only keep with me what I absolutely cannot live without.

9. Overcome Some Fears
Like money. And driving. And success. And Tylenol. I promise to not let my fears take over my life and keep me from just being.

10. Enjoy The Single Life
Men of the world take heed: I am no longer concerned with you. I don't care if you have nice lips or tattooed arms or if you smell really, really nice. And don't think that that sexy Caribbean accent or those hazel eyes will convince me to go out with you because the answer will be a big, fat NO. I kissed way too many frogs last year to fall for that again! I promise that 2008 will be an entire year to get to know me without distractions or interruptions of the penis-having kind.

*smooches...aware that it's the baby steps that make the biggest changes*
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so... let's start the betting pool on how long before I give in to a set of sexy tattooed arms with a Jamaican accent...

This IS Still Brooklyn, You Know

My neighbor left her car running with the key in the ignition and the window down.

Now what if I were a different kind of person...who knew how to drive? She'd be all, "I only left the car alone for a minute! This is a really safe neighborhood!"

Yes, that's true, but sweetie, c'mon! Why tempt fate?

*smooches...shaking my head at the false sense of security some people have*
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lucky for her I'm too pretty to go to jail...

How To Not Be An Addict? Don't Start Using...DUH!

The first day of the new year... nice quiet day on my couch, fighting cramps and a wicked crook in my neck from sleeping funny, watching movies (The Matchmaker, Runaway Jury), and then I decide to see if VH1.com has any sneak peaks of the "I Love NY 2" reunion special. Because I'm so invested in NY and Tailor Made's new relationship, and I want to see if it's going to last.

What I find instead is the full first episode of "Celebrity Rehab" with Dr. Drew, and OH MY GOD! Can I just say, I've found my new favorite show!!! I mean, seriously, if EVER there was an effective deterrent to alcohol and cocaine use is this show right here.

Jeff Conaway (from Grease and "Taxi"), that dude, man, he's a hot holy mess!! He can't walk, his speech is like permanently slurred, he's having hallucinations- this shit is scary! What the fuck, man! How do you get there?

Now me, I wouldn't call myself an addict (unless food and the internet count), at least not a drug addict, but you know what? It just takes that one time, you know? It takes that one bad day or that one out-of-control party or that one accident changing a light bulb and then *BAM* your orange juice just isn't the same without vodka, or the crack dealer is your best friend, or you can't go an hour without smoking a blunt, or you're faking other accidents to get pain meds.

Well, people, that will NEVER be me, you hear me? NEVER! And I don't like to say that word because it can come back to bite you in the culo, but I'm saying (writing) it- N E V E R!!!!!!!!

Damn what a wake up call! I was so freaked out at the sight of Kenickie snorting coke on screen that I flushed and poured down the drain any and all mind-altering substances that were stashed in my apartment. All gone, for good. From now on, one or two beers tops when I go out. Or one glass of wine (actually, one glass is all it takes with me HA!). Simple shit like that. I can't go out like Jeff. Not me, man, not me...

*smooches...glad for some clarity in 2008*
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now excuse me while I eat some pizza and surf the 'net. what? why are you looking at me like that?