Because I Feel Like This...

...I'm going to take a break.

See you in August.

*smooches...saving you from the wrath of Jaded*
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I just need to regroup

And Now For My Next Trick...

...I shall mull over my next academic endeavors in order to become a "doctor" before my 45th birthday!

Yes, now that my MFA thesis is in the hands of the program director I feel it's time I start looking ahead to what I want to study next. Oh, did you think I was done learning? Foolish mortals... I'll never be done learning. I'll probably be sitting next to your grandchildren in a literature course one day. We'll be BFFs and I'll tell them all about the ignorant comments you used to leave on my blog. And then we'll laugh and laugh and laugh. Trust.

This time around I decided to be frugal and see what CUNY had to offer in terms of interesting degree programs that will start me on the PhD road (seeing as my MFA is a terminal degree that I wanted for vanity's sake & to help get me started on my writing career). Hey, it's never too late to be what I could have been, right?

I have a very tough decision ahead of me, though- do I stick with a literature-based course of study or go back to the sciences? Both are so interesting and alluring! And most importantly, both can help me devote the rest of my life to language, literacy and environmental science, and eventually, apply all of that to my overall life's mission of SAVING THE WORLD!

I think the Nerd Girl in me just had ten orgasms...

But in all seriousness, I have a Big Picture in my mind's eye and all of the graduate programs I'm considering are the stepping stones along that journey.

Pray for me, y'all. I'm gonna email the powers that be at CUNY and get some insight. I'll report back after I've chosen a program and am accepted.

*smooches...looking forward to my next degree*
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these things are addictive... like tattoos!

"Tonight's The Night I've Waited For..."

...because you're not a baby anymore...

...you turned into the prettiest girl I've ever seen...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEET SIXTEEN!!!!

*smooches...just for K on her most special day*
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now please excuse me while I go hyperventilate

Pinkies In The Air, Everyone

Call me a snob if you want, but I consider a good writer to be someone who understands that a subject needs a predicate, and then proceeds to take those subjects and predicates to weave a colorful and engaging dialogue with their reader.

It doesn’t have to be Shakespeare or any of those other Dead White Men we loathe to love. I’ve been known to indulge in “chick lit” and genre books on occasion. However, they were all great storytellers with a decent grasp of the English language and knew how to properly manipulate it in order to write a good story.

Enter your cousins and their “hood” novels.



First, I will go on record as stating the obvious: I don’t like urban fiction. In my opinion, those books pander to their audience and perpetuate a belief that one can just put any old bullshit on paper and call it literature. "As long as people are reading SOMETHING..." is not a good enough reason for me to be okay with these books, because it matters what they are reading. It matters a lot. That said...

Recently, the description to one of these Street Lit books was brought to my attention. It read:

Book #5 will not be a novel but 40 short chapters of grown woman shit about love, life, relationships, friendships, infidelity, stupid shit we do, shouldn't do, and why. NO PhD, NO statistics, NO round table, NO degrees. Just a Brooklyn chick w/a lot to say.

REALLY?? This is your book jacket copy???

When I was a kid, it was "cool" to be dumb; kids who did their work and earned good grades were teased. How can it be that DECADES later, grown-ass folks are still living with that mentality? Am I supposed to be impressed by this author’s lack of credentials? Does this make her tome more authentic? It saddens me that this is supposed to be a selling point. I can almost picture an unsuspecting young lady picking up this book and thinking, “Finally, someone’s about to keep it REAL!”

There’s nothing wrong with tales of urban dynamics and struggles, and certainly I can appreciate a fun, airy look at myself and the people around me. I mean, who doesn’t love an easy beach read to pass away a leisurely afternoon? But there’s a fine line between infecting the population with ignorance and enlightening them with a good read. And street lit is teetering on the wrong side of it.

*smooches...hoping this motivates me to get writing again*
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I mean, there's no way I'm allowing THIS heffa to outsell me!!

I Just Pressed SEND.

Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we've ALL been waiting for...

Raquel has emailed her MFA Thesis edits to her professor.

Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the emergency room at Methodist Hospital where Raquel is currently being treated after suffering from multiple panic attacks. And please, no photographs; her hair is unkempt.

News at 11.

*smooches...not sure what to feel*
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I suppose I'll write THAT post after I get the sensation back in my left arm...

A Jaded "Mayhem" Commercial Script

ME: So what happened- you okay?

FRIEND: Yea, I called my sis-in-law the nurse. She said only go to the ER if the bleeding is constant. Popped two Motrin. Pain is subsiding. Bleeding is now spotting.

ME: Blood? *faints* <----- why I didn't pursue medicine

FRIEND: This seems to be a case of "Ass torn out the frame"-itis

ME: Is this sex-related? *dead*

FRIEND: Yes. Yes it is. *hangs head*

ME: #YoureDoingItWrong

FRIEND: Obviously. First time we broke the bed. This time we nearly broke the box. I'm guessing we shouldn't fuck each other anymore.

ME: Not without collision insurance.

FRIEND: *motions for waiter* Check please.

*smooches...realizing I have some really freaky friends*
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and for some reason they LOVE sharing their sexual exploits with me :(

Recalculating: A Healthy Jaded Update (Again)

Here's the thing- I don't like boot camp fitness classes so I'm not going to do them anymore. There, I said it.

I thought it was because I'm lazy (which I am- that's still true) but I just really don't like them. They're pretty much a series of hard-for-no-damn-reason exercises without a point. However I thought I HAD TO do them because how else am I going to lose this weight and firm up this body, right?

But then came the injuries. And the stuff I had to do to recover from these injuries. And it was nothing super-serious but I could already see where this was going. So to all that bullshit I had to finally say, "Fuck boot camp! There has to be a better way!"

Maybe some of you thrive on that kind of workout- running on the treadmill to nowhere; doing push-ups while someone stands over you and says, "Push through it!" Or maybe you find happiness squatting with a medicine ball in tow until your knees disconnect from your body with a, "Fuck you, I ain't doing this shit no more!" Not I! It's not fun. It hurts. And most importantly: IT'S NOT WORKING.

I mean yeah- if we're being 100% honest, it worked a little in the beginning. Boot camp classes most certainly prepared me for this total health mission I'm on, but I do believe this is my stop. Jane, get me off this crazy thing!!

My point is this: I can no longer subject myself to these new millennium torture sessions. If I'm going to sweat like Patrick Ewing and put my muscles through the ringer, then I need the exercise to be functional and fun. Purposeful. I love Pilates because it's not just about physical fitness- it's about being in tune with every tiny bit that makes up my body. And I love Socacize because the music and movement actually bring me joy. And I love boxing because the form and technique we're learning is a skill every Brooklynite should have.

Everything else only exists to ruin my life. Dramatic? Perhaps. But you know I'm right. No one in their right mind ever came home after boot camp and said "WOO DOGGY! Those scissor kick sit-ups will really come in handy when I'm..." and of course you can't finish the sentence because THEY WILL NEVER COME IN HANDY! It's like making a writer take calculus- WHEN WILL I EVER USE THIS KNOWLEDGE?

But if I'm in tune with my body I'll know how to take care of it, and I can use my soca-dancing skills at Carnival. And I'm already a mean-ass bitch, but a mean-ass bitch with a deadly right hook? That's something to aspire to!

So yeah, fuck boot camp. I'm breaking up with it. In fact, I've already deleted boot camp's number from my phone...

*smooches...still working out the kinks of my new life*
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this might take a while...

Birds Of A Feather...

...surf the internet together...



...and watch old episodes of Charmed while comparing leg lengths way past their bedtime together.



Because that's how the Little Sisters and the First Borns roll, son! (respectively)

*smooches...right smack in the middle of #SisterSummer2011*
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it's almost over so we're trying to make the best of it while we can :)

Still Fat, Apparently: A Healthy Jaded Update

Here we are, heavily into July, Ks Sweet 16 Beach Party right around the corner and this belly fat has plopped itself on my couch like, "Hey, bitch, bring me a sandwich!" Yes part of this has to do with what a certain fella said to me on Saturday AND it is PMS Week, but I also have a mirror that doesn't lie and clothes that still don't fit (insult to injury is watching Mari wear my clothes a helluva lot better than I do; just more evidence that I'm stuffing myself into garments of inappropriate sizes).

To that end I've been reviewing my journey so far- what has worked and what hasn't. What hasn't worked is fixing my eating and sleeping habits, which suffer under the enormous weight of my anxiety and depression. What has worked, or rather, what I've enjoyed, is Pilates, boxing and Socacize. I can't say whether or not they are working, but I enjoy those classes and feel pretty good after each session. Almost dead but pretty good. What's getting on my nerves? The injuries and (supposed? apparent?) ineffectiveness of it all.

Enter The Primal Blueprint. I came across this blog by Mark Sisson, Mark's Daily Apple, by chance and everything I read is beyond interesting and feels like where I need to be. Sisson promotes a "caveman" lifestyle and diet- for life- to maintain optimum fitness and health. Right now I'm still in the read-all-about-it stage because it's not just a matter of eating this and not that, it's a complete overhaul of how we live our lives; it challenges conventional health "facts" about nutrition and requires deep emotional transformations.

I can't say if I'm ready for all that just yet.

So I'm going to keep reading Sisson's blog and newsletter, and peruse through his book next time I'm in Barnes and Noble, because frankly THIS LIFE that I'm currently living is not giving me everything I need. And sometimes you do have to throw out the baby with the bathwater and begin again.

Especially if you're still fat and "have a lot more weight to lose" like I do ::side eye::

*smooches...wondering how many will die so that I may live*
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I'm imagining all manner of irritability from me if I undertake this lifestyle change. hide yo' kids, hide yo' wife... and yeah, I totally stole the tagline from The Vampire Diaries' subway ads LOL!

That Awkward Moment...

...when you're on a date with a man to whom you've conceded to giving this whole monogamy-marriage-family a try, even though he's proven himself not really compatible with you and your life in the past, and think you look cute because you've lost 12 pounds, but he points out that you're still a fat ass cow with a looooong way to go until arriving at fit-ville... that's the moment you realize being single ain't all that bad.

So you go home, give the middle finger to washing the make-up off your face because, really- who the fuck cares at this point, right? And just plop yourself down on the couch you've been calling your bed for almost a year now (because your real bed is too big and the closeness to the couch cushions simulates not sleeping alone. True story!) and remember why it was you gave him his walking papers in the first place.

Exes are exes for a reason, y'all. I get that now. I didn't want to believe it before but yeah, I finally understand it. Because you ain't fitna have me wearing EYE MAKEUP and uncomfortable mother-fucking shoes AND insist I put a comb through my 'fro just to call me fat.

Negro, BYE!

*smooches...still mad I rushed home just to be insulted*
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I was having a good ol' time stuffing my FAT face with fried chicken and baked beans out on Long Island and had to end it early to make this date happen...ol' rude ass motherfucker...

First Class Ticket To Hell...

Smarty P. Jones: ...And you need Jesus for those responses.

ME: I need Jesus for how I molested ________ yesterday hahahahahahaha!!

SPJ: As long as you know.

ME: I made a request and Mary was all, "Stop calling here for my son. You will NOT defile his good image with your debauchery" and hung up. Bitches, I swear...

SPJ: *falls to knees* Jesus, you know I just met her, right?

*smooches...finding new ways to damn my soul*
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ay, listen, I'm pretty sure your god has a sense of humor.

Summer, Interrupted

Ever since my separation and subsequent divorce, my babies have gone away with their father for most of the summer, leaving me alone to be as slothful and ratchet as I please. Y'all remember the blog posts; no need to rehash all of that.

Well, this summer things changed. K decided she wanted to stay home and work. Responsible little booger, yes, but she ended up NOT getting the job she wanted and is stuck at home anyway. NOT. COOL. In addition, I've kept N home, too, because...let me be honest: without K there to look after her, I don't feel comfortable sending N to stay with her dad.

Listen, he's just NOT the most attentive and alert person out there and he tends to just dump the girls at his mother's house. Without K there to be the voice of reason and keep order, I fear for what my baby will spend her days doing. N has to be supervised ALL. THE. TIME. She's not a bad kid, but she needs someone around who's going to keep her in check. If I'm not around that becomes K's job. If K's not around... yeah, I got nothing.

So in the meantime, the babies are home. I've had to spend money on groceries I hadn't planned on buying. I can only imagine what my ConEdison bill is going to be like (they're running TWO computers and TWO fans all day long. SHEESH!) and most importantly, they're not doing anything productive with their summer.

Wait, no, MOST IMPORTANTLY is that I no longer have the freedom to come and go as I used to have in summers past. Now I have to make sure there's food. And cook. I HATE COOKING IN THE SUMMER! Like, I really resent it when N comes to me and whimpers, "I'm hungry" because I'm all, "YOU'RE NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!"

But "here" they are. So please excuse me if I turn you down for event after event this summer. My dance card, as they say, is alllll full.

*smooches...trying to adjust my bearings*
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eventually K will go off to college and N will need to learn to supervise herself. I suppose this can be "practice"

Technology Deprivation SUCKS!... And Other #FirstWorldProblems

>>Although I told myself I'd stop getting on the scale...I got on the scale. But WOOHOO it was good news so it's okay- I'm at 185 which brings my total weightloss to 12lbs. IN YO FACE, HYDROXYCUT!! Only thing is, now I have to step up my workouts and such and, well, I DON'T WANNA!

>>The Jaded NYer (blog) has a milestone birthday coming up in the fall and we're celebrating it! Most of you will be invited. A lot of you won't. Most of it is already planned or set. Now I just have to figure out what to wear, how my hair should look and oh yeah HOW WILL I PAY FOR IT ALL?!

>>I have three computers: an old Vaio on permanent loan from Minnie that isn't hooked up to the 'net; Joshua, my seven-year-old Dell desktop; and Joshua II, my wittle-biddy-baby HP laptop. They're all being douche-like these days and so I'm behind on my TV watching. And internet surfing. And Pandora listening. I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS!

>>Esteban, my Blackberry Tour, is also being a douche...he keeps telling me I have four new messages when, in fact, I have ZERO. Also, I can't stream music or play games for long periods of time AND I can't see a lot of sites or videos. Little fucker costs a bundle and can't do SHIT ALL WHAT I NEED IT TO DO. (oh wait- it makes and receives calls, though...but still!)

>>My uterus hurts. Okay, maybe not my uterus, but something in the uterine region. AGAIN. I'm trying to avoid WebMD and my fake medical degree from the Guam School of Not-Real Medicine is telling me it's a UTI only because it's a similar pain. But I'm not getting any penile injections in my girly parts these days, and haven't since four score and seven years ago, so please explain HOW CAN SOMETHING THAT SEES NO ACTION BE SO MUCH TROUBLE?!

*smooches...spewing some randomness on a Wednesday*
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maybe tomorrow I'll come with the sunshine or the funny. maybe.

That Penzo Dude Appeared In A Dream

I want you all to know that just because I'm getting more sleep these days and have stopped eating full meals at 3:00 AM doesn't mean that I still don't have crazy dreams. Because I do. The only difference is that I forget or run out of time to write them down.

However I found notes on a dream I had a while ago. It was one of those vivid dreams where you wake up thinking it really happened. Basically I was at some party and there are some other Penzos there, too. Cousins, aunts, etc. Then my biological paternal parental unit approaches me and I turn my back like, "Negro please, I ain't got nothing to say to you. I don't need you." and he's all "Clearly you do because your mom obviously didn't teach you any manners or to respect people."

To say I woke up mad is an understatement! I was like DID THIS ASSHOLE JUST INSULT MY MOTHER?!?! I was two seconds from going to WAR with this man, and while I may have cause to keep him out of my life, the tirade of profanities I had lined up was all due to my subconscious.

After about five minutes I realized, "Wait- was that real?" and then quietly sat back down when it hit me; "No, it was just a dream."

Funny how even in a sleep state I don't like that man.

*smooches...still laughing at my reaction*
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seriously, though, it's a good thing I don't have his phone number because it was about to be ON!

Words From The Stall, Vol. 3

In the middle of hanging at the bar, watching ESPN, making fun of hipsters and stealing kisses, I was still second-guessing my reason for being there. He is looking to be all in, but what am I looking for?

And of course, a trip to the bathroom didn't help bring any clarity to the situation.



I knew there was a reason why I hated public restrooms!

*smooches...wondering when it all got so complicated*
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remember when a boy would just pull a bra strap & sorta claim you as his? le sigh

Jaded Photographs 2011: July Edition

"Burt & May-Lin"

*smooches...with a drop of envy*
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if these two nobodys can find each other... le sigh...

The Jaded Guide To Getting That Man!

In my daily travels, people never ask me for are always asking my advice on matters of the heart, namely, how to attract and hold on to a special fella. The following conversation with Smarty P. Jones pretty much sums up my answer:

Smarty P. Jomes: How come responsible people always be gettin' punished #nshit? Yes I said, "be gettin'!" You tax single people to high hell, good girls always end up with bad guys, hos get all the quality paynus...I don't wanna be good no more! I'mma be SO bad, my subjects and verbs won't agree! #badtothebone

ME: oookay then... *backs away slowly*

SPJ: Word.

ME: I must add, though- when I treat dudes like shit, they want me so much more *smh*

SPJ: Mmhmm. I'mma start doing that. Just rude for no fucking reason
Him: Good morning.
Me: O_o

ME: lol

SPJ: Watch. I'mma be beatin' 'em off me

ME: No, it's more like...
Him: I love your hair like that.
Me: Shut up and fuck me!

SPJ: O_O!!! #youwin #idontwannaplaynomo

ME: You don't wanna be so mean that they leave.

SPJ: Ahh ...

ME: Just enough that they question themselves for staying.

SPJ: Rudeness peppered with nekkid activities and dry sandwiches

ME: ...And use that pussy like a Venus fly trap on dem hos!

SPJ: #gotit #_#

ME: Throw in a random homemade meal- for no good reason- and that ni**a ain't going nowhere!

SPJ: Lmao!
Me: You want some fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy?
Him: We going to KFC?
Me: We going to the kitchen.
Him: O_O! *dreamy look*
Me: Now STFU and eat this chicken!

ME: Right.

SPJ: *nods* Got it.

ME: And when he's annoying and clingy, hit 'em with a "go call your boys and watch a game or some shit. I'm busy!" He might just propose... Sex, food & sports- it's all a ni**a want/need.

SPJ: Wait, I'm always the clingy one.

ME: THEN STOP THAT SHIT!

Tiffany: O_O! *cues up Tweet's "Sports, Sex and Food" in the iPod*



*smooches...wishing you a man-filled weekend*
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and if you're a hetero dude...well...I wish you lots of sports, sex and food.