Shadowboxing, Neck Cracking And Butt Kneading: A Healthy Jaded Update

As you've probably gathered from yesterday's blog post, I'm still working out. Last week's vacation from all things physical was heaven on earth but it was time to get serious again and continue on my fitness journey.

And in true Raquel fashion, I started back with an intense boxing class.

I always have this deep anxiety before I start any of these classes. The unknown scares me more than it does other people. I lose sleep worrying about things like, can I keep up in the class? Will I throw up? Injure myself? Be laughed at? It's ridiculousness to the hundredth power but that's what goes through my head.

For this class I was most concerned about the jump rope, not because I can't jump rope because I can. Rather, I don't have the endurance to participate in aerobic activity for long periods of time. I don't know if it's poor lung capacity or just that I need to develop this skill over time, but after just 10 seconds of anything that gets my heart rate up I'm ready to throw in the towel. And jumping also made me afraid for my feet and shins- y'all know I got issues with my gams!

However, it wasn't terrible. No, I was not able to jump for two minutes straight through, but every time my feet got tangled in the rope I fixed it and kept going. It was frustration because it happened a lot, but I didn't want my new lover to think I couldn't hang (LOL)!!!

The remainder of the class was stuff I'd done before- pushups, crunches, jabs, hooks, body shots (not the ones involving liquor...although...)- so I got through it just fine. My body is pretty beat from the workout but it's definitely something I'll continue to do.

After work, I went to see a chiropractor. I know, I know- what was I, the number one distrust-er of "physicians" everywhere- doing at the chiropractor's? Well, blame Living Social! I was just curious to see what it would be like and let me tell you, it was exactly what people say it is: a neck-cracking sham! I don't think he can do anything for me that I can't accomplish with regular yoga and Pilates classes. Plus the "doctor" reminded me of Buddy from "Charles in Charge" and that's never a good look!

After the quack visit I was scheduled for a massage (it was part of the same Living Social deal) even though I despise having someone touch me. I figured I have tons of body aches so maybe letting someone manipulate my muscles and connective tissue for an hour would help alleviate the soreness. Little did I know that massages include RUBBIN' ALL UP ON MY BOOTY! What in all the fucks is up with that?! And why didn't anyone warn me???

I was two seconds from blowing my rape whistle and calling some SVU cops, especially because I thought I felt him press his erect penis on my arm...but it turned out to be a lotion/oil bottle that was in his apron pocket. My bad! But he still lost points for touching my feet- Listen, I was just too through and could not wait to get the fuck out of there.

Massages are just NOT my thing. I don't like them and they leave me feeling even MORE achy than when I came in! I'd rather soak in a hot bath, thanks.

This fitness journey is killing me slow, I tell ya, and I need for my body to just succumb to my will and tighten up already. I HAVE NO PATIENCE FOR THIS PROCESS!

In othes news- LOOK AT MY FLEDGLING BICEP!!!



Who knew there was muscle under there?

*smooches...still sore as I type this*
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all of this just so that I can wear a swimsuit without resembling an Orca... so not fair!!

I'm In Love With A Trainer.

So remember all the bitching and moaning I was doing about not losing weight and being tired and not wanting to continue with these fitness classes because I just want to be a lazy bum? Right. I just found the inspiration & motivation to power through my inner couch potato. And his name is Jason Quick.




GIFSoup

His bio boasts "...18 years of fighting and training..." experience, and he's a former Marine, boxer, is NASM certified and is a 5th Degree Master Black Belt. But none of that matters as much as the what the sight of his carefully chiseled abs do to my girly parts...




GIFSoup

...which in turns makes me want to work hard in class. Just to please him.

I know I should be working out for me, to get healthy and fit, to turn my body into a lean, fat-burning machine, but y'all just don't understand... in the middle of class he used his shirt to wipe his brow and I swear I almost fainted when I saw his naked flesh. Then he came over to me and had me demonstrate a combination of punches with him and it took me to this happy place...


GIFSoup

Then HE SPOKE TO ME to see how I felt after class (GOD I think I giggled!!! ::slaps forehead:: I fucking giggled, y'all) and I proceeded to ask him about continuing with the classes after my voucher expires. Then...THEN, he recommended one-on-one sessions.


GIFSoup

It was like an out-of-body experience. I really don't know how I held it together! I just want to lick all manner of sticky dessert toppings off of his body. Like, for real.

And YES, I know it's his JOB to push for the more expensive personal training sessions but FUCK YOU! Don't ruin my fantasy!! We'll be dating by the fall, engaged by Memorial Day and married by Christmas!

*smooches...plotting & scheming*
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you're all invited to the wedding :)

SisterSummer 2011 Preview

I won't lie- as crazy as Mari is I enjoyed SisterSummer 2010, so much so that I agreed to sign up for another year of pure, unadulterated insanity. Especially because the babies will be home more, too. It's a full house of locas over at Casa Penzo this year.

However this time around I'm troubled by this annoying bond she and N have, calling themselves "The Little Sisters" and claiming they are better than the First Borns. N even went so far as to say we First Borns are damaged or something, and that's why their (our) parents decided to try again.

Oh, that reminds me, I need to punch N in her throat ::adds that to list::

They'll both rue the day they ever messed with The First Borns. You'll see. This is just the beginning...




*smooches...gearing up for WAR*
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may the best sister WIN! Who's ready to join our army?!?!

Live And Let Love

You may or may not have heard that last week the powers that be in New York gave the green light to gay marriage. And right in time for the Gay Pride Parade 2011!


I have to admit- I loathe politicians and the tricks they play, especially for the shenanigans they are currently pulling with regards to what I can or can't do with my uterus and it's adjoining organs & contents, but this time they got something right.


It's not a secret that Jaded don't do parades; crowds freak me out and I get real nervous if my exit strategy is blocked by mobs of people, but after checking out the afternoon screening of "Super 8" at Union Square, I found myself right smack in the middle of the festivities.


Never in a million years did I imagine I'd get swept up in the emotion of the day. It was all so beautiful- the cheering, the smiles, the music, the costumes. There was so much happiness and relief and love in the air...I may or may not have allegedly gotten a little teary during the procession. SHUT UP.


Today, more than I ever, I was an extremely PROUD NYer. I can't believe I was alive to witness this!


*smooches...for all of the same-sex couples lining up on Monday for marriage licenses*
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I kinda wish I can take off work and cheer them on at City Hall!

Friday Fun: eReaders SUCK, Filth Is Hysterical & Weed Makes You Paranoid!

I know y'all work hard just to keep it together. Me, too. That's why I bury myself in funny things. Like the following:

A cartoon that fully explains my feelings towards digital readers

One of the funniest story lines in all 10 seasons of "Friends"



Roseanne, Dan & Jackie high on 20-year-old weed



*smooches...hoping this gave you a great laugh*
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shout out to @davevanb for the eReader pic :)

The Fallout: A Healthy Jaded Update

Exercise is good, they say, and yes, I suppose building a strong body to carry you into your twilight years is important. What they NEVER tell you is all the bullshit you encounter along the way.

Like shin splints. Know what this is? I didn't until last week, but now I have it. Awesome.

Or nausea at even the smallest morsel of greasy foods.

Or the need to buy more stuff to maintain this lifestyle, like vitamins, workout gear, Ace bandages, whey protein powder, heating pads, PAIN MEDS...the list goes on and on!

I know what I'm doing right now is better for me in the long run, but I miss the days of the Dollar Menu and couch surfing. I never thought I would but I do.

And perhaps that is the most troubling side effect of all: I thought embarking on this fitness journey would change me to my core (both literally and figuratively). I thought I'd become more pro-active about my life, more focused, more determined to succeed and make more and more positive changes in my life. But it never happened. Two months of working out and I'm still as sloppy, lazy, unfocused and unmotivated as ever. I've talked a good game but inside I don't believe any of it.

Sure, I get up to go work out, but not consistently and only because there was money involved that I didn't want to waste. And now that the injuries and extra, hidden expenses have started to creep in I'm starting to not want to do this anymore; fuck the results. That's exactly what I hear in my head-- Fuck. The. Results. I guess my endorphins are really no match whatsoever for my depression. I must have an acute case of Super Jaded Depression, the kind that eats endorphins for breakfast with a side of nails and then spits it out in your baby's face JUST TO WATCH IT CRY.

I'm not certain where I'll find myself when all my fitness vouchers are used up because it's become apparent to me that no amount of boot camp classes can change the fact that I don't really want to work hard for anything. It hurts to admit that to myself but there it is.

I don't want to do anything, ever.

*smooches...loathing this stubborn flaw*
----------
in the meantime, let me go schedule the hell out of myself so I can finish up with these exercise classes already and go back to my regularly scheduled failure.

and I'm closing comments because I'm really not in the mood for unsolicited advice. thanks for reading, tho. love you lots :)

You Should Be...

...watching Idris Elba in "Luther" on the BBC network. Talk about your well-written, heart-attack-inducing police drama!! Oh, and Mr. Elba's eye candy status hurts their ratings NONE. You can catch Season 1 on Netflix and Season 2 Tuesdays on BBC...in the UK (it'll be in America in October. But if you're crafty you can watch it now).

...reading more graphic novels, and I don't mean mangas or futuristic zombie tales, either. There are some really good stories out there laid out as comics that provide you with mental and visual stimulation. My recommendations are "Maus," "Y, The Last Man" and "The Sons of Liberty." I just borrowed "American Born Chinese" and "Poseurs" from the library today and they look interesting, too!

...signing up for the Bed-Stuy Farm Share to get you some fresh veggies, fruits and eggs. There's a sliding scale cost so don't think you're too broke for it, and hey- maybe you and a neighbor can SHARE a SHARE and it'll lower the cost even more! Think about it.

...listening to more Beres Hammond on a daily basis. Between his music and some classic Bob Marley, I have a fighting chance against the Bluesy-Blues during Shark Week**



...enjoying more time away from the internets and social media. It has all but ruined my life; I'd hate to see the same happen to you. As soon as you finish reading this go to a window OR just go right outside and let the sun- or moonlight hit your face. Say hello to Mother Nature. Give her a hug and kiss. Apologize for staying away so long and promise that you'll visit more often!

*smooches...glad for the summer, whatever it may bring*
----------
**as of this moment, PMS Week has been renamed "Shark Week" #getfamiliar

"Just Because You Are...So Beautiful...": A Love Letter To Writer's Block

First, let me say that I don't know why this kid isn't more famous. Fuck the music industry if this dude doesn't have someone releasing his albums every two days. I need more Brett Dennen in my life. MORE. BRETT. DENNEN.



Now that we've gotten that out of the way...

I've been living as if all the ink in all of pens is gone because I've written nan one word of original fiction since, oh, maybe January. As if the coffers are empty, the well has run dry, the literary lights are on but no one cares to come home and tell their tales.

I suppose I've filled the reading and writing void in my life with exercise because that's what I do- when I'm avoiding one thing I become 100% obsessed and focused on something else so that I can look people in the eye and lie. "I wish I had time to write but in between boot camp and Pilates and soca class I just can't find the time anymore." That's my new schpiel.

But deep down I know it's not true, and while I'm kinda okay with not telling you everything, it's really hard to look at myself in the mirror and get away with such word vomit. Eventually I see my reflection and am repulsed. It's hideous, gory, filthy. Because it dares lie to me with the very words I gifted it.

And I'm not that person. I'm beautiful because I have this thing in me that takes the English alphabet and configures it in such a way that even I sit back and say, "Wow. Who wrote this?" But I've been too SOMETHING to do it lately.

I need a change of scenery. A change of pace. Something new to look at and experience and be a part of. I have to wake up and put on my face, the one that knows how to entice a story out of a character from a world just outside my reach. Maybe even travel back to a time when I felt I had something new to contribute to the written word.

A time when I knew the way to San Jose...



*smooches...still trying to find some balance*
----------
things just aren't right. it's like "right" is just there, around the corner, but every time I get close it takes off to another unreachable corner of my mind :(

I've Turned A Page, I Think

So there's a fella.

And right away you already know by the fact that I'm writing about him that it's probably another failed attempt at normalcy for me.

Well this fella and I had a serious discussion about commitment- marriage, babies, the rest of our lives. It was a very beautiful picture he painted in that little Mexican spot, where he downed like four tacos and six margaritas, and I sipped my water and watched.

I've known this man going on six years now and I figured, yeah, this could work. Who knows me better at this point than this beautifully-sculpted man sitting across from me, letting me know that I've always been his choice even when I had chosen others over him. I thought I could look across at this face for the rest of my life and be fine.

It was a quaint little tale with me working from home as a writer and us living six months in Brooklyn and the other six in the Caribbean. The story included travels near and far, and a lifetime of companionship and supposedly, love. He was offering security the likes of which I haven't had since I was a little girl.

I was inclined to believe it.

THEN...

He sent me a topless picture of himself.

Now, I don't want to sound like a prude, and you and I both know I have been known to cherish the occasional cock shot via BBM and all that, but his picture sort of took that beautiful painting and shat on it. It went from Picasso to Motel Art in 2.3 seconds. My heart totally sank.

Maybe I'm taking this too seriously, but I didn't want this to be like every other encounter I've had. I wanted it to remain pristine n shit, and he ruined it with that picture. I really thought this time would be different, just like I always think EVERY TIME will be different but then a particularly loud Voice keeps whispering in my ear, "Why are you so dense? Why do you keep falling for their lies?"

All I can think is, "Why not?"

Why not believe that there's a great life for me out there, with a man who will put me on the pedestal upon which I belong? Be faithful and supportive? Treat me with respect? Don't I deserve the fairytale after all the frogs I've kissed?

Besides, I don't know about y'all, but I don't want to live in a world without Picassos.

*smooches...preparing to have THE TALK yet again*
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luckily for him he's out of the country this week...next week, however *sigh*

Jaded Book Giveaway No. 5

It's been too long since I've done one of these. As usual, I have TOO MANY BOOKS (#FirstWorldProblems) in my tiny apartment so I'm "giving them away" like Crazy Eddie



To refresh your memory, I'll post a passage from a book, and the first one to comment the correct author AND title wins the prize. Oh and the prize are five gently-used, previously-owned books from Casa Penzo to get your summer reading plans started.

Ready?

...
...
...

GO!

"I just got home from work, Peter thinks, as if that explained everything--his dead wife, the shooting, the man with no face, the rancid air of this little room--and then the thing sitting in front of the TV turns around to face him and Peter thinks nothing at all."

Good Luck!!

*smooches...putting together my own reading list*
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I need more books in my life pronto! Any suggestions?

Words From The Stall, Vol. 2

You ever seen someone cracking up all by themselves in the ladies room? Kinda makes you clutch your purse and high-tail it out of there, doesn't it?

Well, at least that was the reaction from the women around me as I laughed hysterically at this find in a public restroom while traveling from Philly to Boston last month:



*smooches...still laughing*
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if it takes you a minute to get it, don't worry. I'll still love you.

Frustration, Insomnia & Neutrality: A Healthy Jaded Update

When I first decided to get serious about working out/eating right, I envisioned that by the 4th of July I'd have this sexy, muscular, svelte body that would bring all the boys to the yard. I honestly thought three months would be enough time to undo all the bad stuff I'd done to my body while unemployed. After all, that's what happens on The Biggest Loser and Celebrity Fit Club, so why not me? But the reality is it's June 15 and I'm still a fat cow.

And I'm okay with it for the time being.

The logical part of my brain knew all along that the people on those weight loss shows only lose so much so fast because they are focused on fitness 24-7. They're not going to work everyday or going home to mind their children. They get to be secluded and are only privy to healthy food options and are made to work out come hell or high water.

In Jaded Land, I have to get myself up every morning and travel into Park Slope to put my body through a grueling workout. Then I have to work at a desk for 8 hours in a profession that is prone to and encourages extreme snacking. Then I have to come home and cook meals for my kids that I have to eat in moderation or not at all yet still smell their deliciousness wafting under my nose.

Looking back, the logical part of my brain laughs heartily at the rest of me for thinking we'd be able to lick our anxiety and depression and insomnia with a few sessions of boot camp fitness classes. This insomnia is going nowhere. I make myself go to bed early but wake up at 3 or 4 AM and then find it hard to go back to sleep, which in turn makes me oversleep and miss class at least once a week. And my anxiety lifts me up out my seat in the afternoons and guides me toward the snack machine in the staff lounge to get a bag of potato chips.

About the only thing that I really truly look forward to is Monday night Pilates. It's hard work, and it makes my body work in ways it hasn't had to work since I last stepped foot in a dance studio at age 10. But after each class I feel no more tension in my shoulders and neck. My body feels loose and free. Anxiety is no more. It's like the whole world disappears and I am in tune with every part on my body 100%. I'm coasting on neutral all the way home.

I now realize and accept that my fitness goals are at least a year away. If it happens sooner then please believe I'll throw a party with SO MANY Buffalo wings on the menu you'd think it was Super Bowl Sunday. But I've let go of the expectation that I will have that dancer's body again in only three months' time.

And now that I've released that stress from my mind, maybe I can concentrate on conquering the others.

*smooches...content with my progress so far*
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hey, my lazy ass has conquered push-ups; do you know how HUGE that is in and of itself? sheeeeiiiiittttt...

The Jaded NYer, Relationship Expert

FRIEND: The man for me is probably on a permanent safari in the Kenyan jungle. We can never afford to find each other

ME: Well with negative thoughts like that lurking in the air...

FRIEND: How positive can I be? All lonely and horny at the same time? I call it "hornly." It's a terrible condition; they should make a pill for it.

ME: They do. GHB. O_o

FRIEND: o_+

*smooches...sprinkling positivity into people's lives*
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now my friend knows... all she needs to do to find her man is slip him a mickey

Apparently, I Have A "Princess" Mode...

...and it is to blame for all of my problems with men.

::seriously deep & stank side eye::

According to a certain source, while I'm fixed in Princess Mode, I talk to people as if they are a part of my Royal Court, there to appease me and basically do as I say. I use a certain tone of "privilege" and if I don't get my way I storm out and cut all communications for a random amount of time. Especially if the members of the Royal Court refuse to acknowledge that they are, in fact, supposed to be at my beck and call.

WELL I'VE NEVER!!!!

...been slapped with so much truth in MY. LIFE.



Listen, I'm very self-aware. You think I don't KNOW I have a Princess Mode? That my attitude stinks and I throw tantrums the likes no one over the age of three should ever throw? I. DON'T. GIVE. A. FUCK.

Know why? Because I AM a god damned Princess, and deserve to be showered with attention, affection and all that other good shit. I was raised to be a Princess and you know what? If you don't like it... ::points to door::

The sooner you men get hip to the fact of my Royal lineage, the easier this dating shit will be.

That is all.

*smooches...waving from the tower of my Princess Palace*
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and what does it say about HIM that, even with my Princess Mode tendencies, he STILL wants me to be his MRS??? lol

Today I Will (6.10.11)

(The history behind these activities can be found here, and if you click here you will see all the previous posts I wrote on them. Thank you to Irene for having the forethought to buy me this book for blog material.)

Activity #11: Today I will volunteer to give back to my community.

First off I want to make it clear that this isn't meant to shame or out anyone for whatever they do or don't do to contribute positive "things" to society, and I also would like you all to refrain from letting your egos take over and tell us who all you give money to or volunteer time with- it's really nobody's business.

But I would like to suggest that you consider helping out a charitable organization in your neighborhood or anywhere on God's green earth (if you don't already). I joke a lot on Twitter about First World/Champagne problems, but when you really step back and look at your life sometimes it becomes so obvious that we don't have anything REAL to complain about if our neighbor went to bed hungry or can't read.

"Giving your time to a worthy cause also helps put your own problems in perspective, gives you a sense of belonging within a community, and enhances your sense of self-worth."

Just think about it.

*smooches...hoping this post counts as giving back*
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I've still not been able to find some sort of charitable SOMETHING the girls and I can do so if you have any suggestions for organizations in Brooklyn that could use our help, pass it on :)

Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

ME: If only you'd move to BK we'd be perfect together.

FRIEND: No can do. I like the 'burbs too much.

ME: Well, I guess I'll keep looking.

FRIEND: Me, too :(

ME: You know this means I have to place you in the Friend Zone...

FRIEND: Noooo! It's dark in here and all the dudes are depressed

*smooches...wondering how I got such a bad rep*
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no one is heart-broken over losing me. if they were they wouldn't have lost me in the first place!

Jaded Fraud?? A Post In Real Time

So last month I got copies of my credit report so that I can assess what damage I'd done to my potential home-ownership & retirement plans. It was a lot of the same: Sallie Mae THIS, CitiBank THAT, and etcetera, etcetera. Pretty much what I expected (unfortunately).

That is UNTIL I saw a line that listed me having an ALTERNATE SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER.

Excuuuuuuuuse meeeeee?!?!?!?!

I had to look at it three times to be sure. Maybe I had written my number incorrectly somewhere at some point? But no- it was nowhere near close to my actual number. All signs were pointing to possible fraud somewhere. Le sigh.

So now all I can think about is that somewhere here on earth is a Bizarro Jaded, and she is living fat off the hog pretending to be Bizarro Me. She probably has a house and a boat and a Maybach (you like how I typed Maybach as if I know what that is? I heard someone use the word today and took it to mean "something flashy that rich people have" ::goes to Google:: OH. It's a car? Then yeah, Bizarro Jaded has a Maybach, too.).

She probably travels a lot to places where you can sunbathe topless and uses credit cards in my Bizarro name to keep her body right via spa treatments, plastic surgery and hydro-colonics. I bet you Bizarro Jaded doesn't sit at home in the heat in front of a dinky fan praying that her computer processor holds out for just ONE MORE YEAR because she's absolutely certain this will be the year she gets her money right and will be able to get a new computer, just so that she can watch reruns of "Family Ties" and "Veronica Mars" on Netflix. No, Bizarro Jaded is too busy shaking it fast at the Viper Room with MY JOHN CUSACK!!!

I hate Bizarro Jaded, and I hope she rots in hell. Her AND her Maybach. Fuck BOFE THEY COUCHES!

In the meantime, I had to place a 90-day Fraud Alert on my credit report with all three reporting agencies, as per the instructions given to me by the Federal Trade Commission's Fraud Hotline.

Fabulous. Now I'm on a whole slew of more "lists" out there. I'll never be able to shake The Man now.

*smooches...hoping for swift & just results*
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if y'all would just hurry up and find me a Sugar Daddy I wouldn't have to care about such pedestrian things like IDENTITY FRAUD. I'd just run off to the Caymen's n shit...

Learning About My Body

So last week or so I had a bit of a meltdown. I was frustrated with all the work I've been doing to get fit and the fact that it was not being reflected on the scale or in the way my clothes were fitting.

After having a short one-on-one consultation with John Quinn of Captain Quinn's Boot Camp (my latest fitness class!) I've decided to give myself one more month before I visit the doctor to see if there's an internal problem we need to, ummm, FLUSH out. In the meantime I'll just stay focused on getting through each workout.

And I guess I should admit that I have lost some inches. Not enough to fit into the clothes I was able to wear just last year, but some. And I can hold myself in a full plank position for almost twenty seconds these days before I give in to my trembling muscles. Plus I can do almost two minutes of those god-awful "burpees" without throwing up or dropping dead. And, well, I might as well tell you that I've fallen in love with Pilates, officially naming it THE Jaded workout of champions.

While I'm confessing...I have dropped out of the 190's officially (WOOHOO) and graduated to TWO protein shakes a day to feed my muscles. I did surrender to some white rice on Sunday, but it was the first time in a hot minute. Listen, I don't give a FUCK what y'all say about white rice, that shit was DELICIOUS and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Sheeeiiiittttt, I topped it with some spicy grilled shrimp and, well, I did AWFUL things to that poor plate of food.

The point is, my eating & exercising has continued on a more responsible path. And I'm slowly but surely getting used to how I look in lycra/spandex *side eye*


Still no donk, but I never had one so maybe I shouldn't be so damn greedy *sad face*

So I'm sorry if I was showing my ass with that tantrum before, but see, I'm just learning to really, truly listen to my body- go to sleep when I'm tired, drink water when I'm thirsty, feed my belly BEFORE it starts growling & eating my other organs, and, um, using the facilities when it's called for and not holding it until I get home (which of course requires I let go my OCD/phobia of public restrooms. This was not easy last week when all the water in the ladies' room at work was BROWN. BLECH.).

I'm a little more confident now that the end results will be fabulous. At least for this week.

*smooches...determined, again*
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I know I'm hard-headed. just bear with me, y'all. I'll learn soon enough!

Ladies Love Cool Jaded. Finally.

A while back on Twitter and via a GChat conversation, I was lamenting the fact that gay women have never hit on me. That, of course, kicked my ego into overdrive and I began to complain about it. Why don't they like me? I have all the parts they like (and then some!) and yet, despite living in the NYC area for most of my life, nan one vagina has ever wanted to bump uglies with mine. #FirstWorldProblems

Fast forward to Memorial Day weekend.

I'm walking along West 3rd with the homies, on my way to SOBs for Soca Madness, and mayyyyybeeeee my breasts were prevalent in my dress. I shall not confirm nor deny this alleged description of my attire. I will concede that my 'fro was looking mighty RIGHT, though, and you already know the POWER of the 'fro.

Well, right as we pass the McDonald's on the corner, an older Black woman stops in front of me, stares into my eyes and says, "Hello, Beautiful."

*crickets*

*uncomfortable silence*

*cue laughter and jokes from Mari, Nina and @KidCunti*

*cue me walking away and never looking back*

Be careful what you wish for, my lovelies.

*smooches...crossing that encounter off my bucket list*
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now I just have to meet John Cusack, have sex with Prince and Slash, and become BFFs with Janeane Garofalo and my life will be complete

Jaded Photographs 2011: June Edition

"The Graduate"

*smooches...for my soon-to-be middle schooler*
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can you believe this child? How did she get so big!

Truth Is...

I’m not too thrilled with me so chances are
I’ll never be happy with you

I don’t want to do all the work it will take
to get what I want

Flirting is fun, dating is tolerable,
relationships are a burden

That previous statement is why I’m still single
without that third & fourth baby I want

I’m never satisfied with my hair

I’m unapologetically racist

I could easily kill a person; I know it’s in me...
I've thought about it

I’m a good starter but a terrible finisher

Most days I’d rather have great sex
than find a great love

This cartoon was unknowingly
made for me



*smooches...wondering what some of your truths are*
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if you feel like sharing, you know what to do...

Musical Interlude: Move Your Body

I was recently in between boot camps because, well I wanted a break from the massive attacks on my muscles and I needed to plan out all of my LivingSocial and Groupon fitness vouchers juuuust right.

So one morning I decided to try and work out on my own. Yeah, that didn't go well at all. I'm just not the kind of person that can get up and go for a run (BARF!) or go to the gym and get an effective, well-rounded workout. In fact, why should I have to think about this stuff when I can buy fitness vouchers and PAY professionals to do it for me?

Right. This is what the homies and I call #ChampagneProblems (but that's neither here nor there).

About the only thing I am guaranteed to do on my own and get a decent calorie burn going is dance. It was my first love- before books!- and I can never get enough. If you're like me and lack that desire to go out and self-direct a workout session, just clear some space in your living room and shake a tail feather or four.

Here are some tunes to get you started:

The little boy in this video, Baby Boogaloo... I wanna be him when I grow up!



Yeah, I know, Chris beat up Rihanna. But can I help it if this song makes my booty shake?



I can't remember if Amerie had any other hits right now, but whatever, this one is always a club crowd-pleaser.



Classic Janet. I wonder how many folks busted their collective asses trying that little chair trick?



I will forever and always adore this Missy song above all others. Always!



I can't have a dance mix without some Soca Jams! This one makes me "chook it" all over the place :)



Shakira's latest album is chock-full of dance tunes; this one is my favorite.



Classic merengue is good for working those obliques if you dance it just right!



Yes, I like a Don Omar song. BUSTED! (actually, I like more than one. SHHH!)



Really, though, if this song doesn't make you dance like no one is watching, there's something wrong with you!



*smooches...doing the Cabbage Patch all through your browser*
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what are some of your favorite "working out" songs?

I'd Do It All Again

I know some of you think I'm insane for wanting more kids. Hell, every day some days I question my sanity, too. But on my birthday, as I was heading out to a Pilates class, my darling babies surprised me with an original, choreographed dance to Machel Montano's soca anthem (and this year's Soca Monarch winner) "Advantage."



They worked on it all weekend and were super eager for me to see it. And let me tell you, I'm such a proud momma. Not because the dance was superb or flawless- no one's banging down our door to offer them a spot with the Alvin Ailey Dance Company or anything- but because they thought out a gift for me that I would really, truly cherish.

Sometimes I want to be selfish and say "UGH! Why did I have kids?!" Then they do something like this and I remember why.

(and I know the audio is terrible, so here's the song they're dancing to)



*smooches...only for my munchkins today*
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notice the absence of ratchet dancing...I'm raising young ladies, not video hos!