Monday, April 30, 2007

Forgiveness Tour 2007

The new, kinder, gentler Raquel that wants to emerge from this Jaded NYer has decided that, like addicts before her, she's going to try and make amends with those she's hurt. I did something similar a few months ago in a blog post, so I won't revisit those injured parties anymore. The apology is out there and I'm done with that.

Actually, there is only one person I need to reconcile with. And I'm hoping this will finally put my soul at ease and allow me to move forward. My grandma.

I share most everything with you all in these blogs, but the circumstances that will not allow me to move past her death are very private and I'm not yet at the place in my life where I can put it out for all the world to see. But know that it is something that eats at me everyday and has affected me so much since she died in 1999. That's almost ten years of baggage. And I'm really just tired of carrying it around.

Jack and I concluded that the best way to deal with this is to go to DR and go "talk" to her, clear the air, apologize, ask for forgiveness, tell her I love her and then let it go.

It's weird for me to even contemplate something like this. I love to hold on to shit like this like a fucking security blanket, but lately I've found that blanket rather suffocating. I suppose I fell victim to the whole, "I must suffer for my art" bullshit.

But what kind of lunatic actually ENJOYS suffering?

I'm surprised a mental health professional hasn't tackled me in the street and medicated me on the spot!

*smooches...really, really, really ready to let go...for real this time*
so many sheep i quit counting
sleepless and embarrassed
about the way that i feel
trying to make mole hills out of mountains
building base camp at the bottom
of a really big deal

Sunday, April 29, 2007

Raquel Is Bi-Polar: A Play in Two Acts


A cell phone alarm goes off, and we see a close-up of RAQUEL opening her eyes and drifting out of sleep. She has a mess of long black curls spread out on her pillow and dark brown eyes with caramel skin. She smiles big at the bright ray of sun beaming through her window.

Good morning, Mr. Sun! Isn't it great to be alive? I can't wait to go out there and take on the world!!


Raquel is squished in between two very large women, one of which has fallen asleep on her shoulder. A man in a three-piece suit standing in front of Raquel keeps hitting her face with his NY Times. Two teen-aged girls by the door are loudly talking about another student.

I told that bitch to get the fuck out ma face and she was like make me so I was like *BAM* and knocked that bitch out.
It's about time somebody fucked her up. She been axing for a ass whoopin. She lucky it wan't me cause huh ass be in da hospital right now, shee-it!
Somebody kill me, please!

Fade to black.

*smooches...finding inner peace a little harder than I thought*
do you want to get off?
is this your stop?
do you gotta have a triple-decker super fudge sundae
with a goddamn cherry on top?
i mean, what makes you so lavish
that you can afford
to spend every sober moment feeling angry and bored

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Google Is Trying To KILL Me!!!

So far, I've been treating this whole Wayne "Stalker" Carter situation like a joke, but the fact is I'm pretty creeped out. I never let anything rattle me 'cause, you know, I'm from Bed-Stuy and shit and nothing scares me- but a crazed stalker? We all know how that story ends. I even wrote a script about a stalker and let me tell didn't end with flowers and lollipops.

Therefore I decided to do some damage control and ensure that Wayne could not find me on his own. I googled my name to see what surfaces and wouldn't you know it- MY FUCKING BLOGS SHOW UP ON PAGE TWO!!! Goddamn GOOGLE!!! Are they trying to get me killed??

So I had to go into my blog layouts, change my profile name and contact info, remove my name from some of the posts and got rid of the profile pics of me and of my girls. In this day and age where a stalker can pay 1-800-US-SEARCH $49.99 and get my address and phone number, there's no need to make it easier by letting them see what me and my kids look like, and read all about what a loser I think he is.

Readers, I recommend you all google your names and make sure you're still under the radar. I know by having this and the other 4 blogs I write I've made my life semi-public. Still, it doesn't mean I want the Wayne Carters of the world to find me.

The google search thing has been remedied (thank god!) and these blogs no longer pop up in the results (whew!). But now I feel like I have to censor what I say and what pictures I want to add to my posts. Like I won't be able to keep it real anymore.

And I hate censorship.

Almost as much as I hate eggplant and exercise!

*smooches...a bit more incog-negro than yesterday*
there's a smorgasbord of unspoken poisons
a whole childhood of potions
that are all bottled up
and so one by one i am dusting off labels
i am uncorking bottles and filling up cups
so go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine
and i'll have a taste of mine
but first let's toast to the lists
that we hold in our fists
of the things that we promise to do
differently next time

Nope, Not Desperate At All!

The Wayne "Stalker" Carter saga continues.

I received this gem in my mailbox early this morning:

From: Wayne Carter (view profile)
To: ME
Sent: April 24, 2007 03:10:14 PM
Subject: Hi, from Wayne !

I can honestly say that I had the biggest crush on you in the 6th grade. And when i saw your picture, it brought back so many memories,

I am not a stalker, and completely understand why you were "reluctant" to give out your number. I am also far from desperate! Just would like to talk to someone of the opposite sex with a good head on their shoulders.

I must admit that I was disappointed when I saw I missed your call. Try back again! (917) 881-XXXX.

I'm not sure how to proceed. Part of me (the smart, logical side that went to college and dresses herself in the morning) is inclined to ignore it because he IS a stalker and IS PROBABLY trying to kill me for calling him a booger-face or some such nonsense back in grade school.

The other part of me (the silly, careless side that is nosy to the point of self-destruction) wants to call again- blocking my number of course- and see what he has to say for himself. And mind you, I still have no clue who he is, what he looked like back then or what he looks like now...

I know me. This will eat at me forever. I have this overwhelming desire to just KNOW EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING. It's a sickness, I know, but I don't know how to stop. And think of the material I'll have for this blog!! It's a goldmine, folks!!! Goldmine!!!

So I ask you, my loyal readers:

Did curiosity really kill the cat? Or was it the tainted pet food??

What do you all think?

*smooches...not quite ready to sign the restraining order*
when you're pretty as a picture
they pound down your door
but i've been offered love
in two dimensions before
and i know that it's not all
that it's made out to be
let's show them all how it's done
let's do it all imperfectly

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Jack Needs a Lesson in Love and Forgiveness

My soul is troubled. Just a day after my "inner peace journey" post I received this email from Jack:

How in the hell are you going to embark on a journey towards inner peace by dumping all your baggage and leave me standing here still festering and frothing at the mouth?!?!

Explain to me who the hell is going to understand my own rants and raving lunacy about things that are, admittedly, trivial in the overall scheme of life but that I glom on to from time to time in a desperate attempt to find solace in being able to control something?! Huh?

**adds Rocky to the list**

When I replied that I would be sending him my copy of Finding Inner Peace, he freaked and compared me to the Dalai Lama and signed his email:

Grudge-holding Prican waitin on a fucking book in order to get over the PF
[Puta Face] syndrome.

So while the book is en route, I'm gonna give Jack a little lesson in loving and embracing fellow human beings. Who knows, he might also stop smoking, too.

1. I Love You, Nasty Smokers in the 3rd Floor Bathroom. Without your dependence on tobacco the economy of the south might just collapse. Lung specialists would be out of a job, as would most of the folks at the American Lung Association. The Surgeon General wouldn't be as popular. Your purpose on earth is precious.

2. I Love You, Rude Commuters of the F-Train. I know when you shove me, steal my seat, squeeze in where you don't fit and horde over the turnstiles thereby preventing me from catching my train, you do it to strengthen me. You make my heart sing.

3. I Love You, Idiot Graphic Designer in Virginia. Without the gazillion glaring errors you make on every assignment I send your way, I may not have gotten that $5K raise. Keep forgetting to change the folio text. Stand firm on your belief that large amounts of white space and blurry photos are okay. You only have my best interest at heart.

4. I Love You, Skanky Whore Who Lured Jason Away With Your GINORMOUS 14-year-old Breasts. If not for you I may have become an unwed mother YEARS ahead of schedule. Your compassion and thoughtfulness dwarfs your mammories.

5. I Love You, Mr. Wayne "Stalker" Carter. Your ability to hold onto negativity is so amazingly pure that I am humbled by your presence. And yes, I will go on the Maury Povich Show with you.

6. I Love You, Female Reproductive System & Lady Estrogen. Every month you play games with my emotions and waistline as if you hadn't a care in the world. As if I couldn't find a shady doctor in Mexico City to remove you. Your innocence endears me.

7. I Love You, Jeremy "Ass-Face" Piven. Your actions and bad-mouthing of my beloved John only serve to make him look like a bigger person in my eyes. And taller. Your selflessness brings tears to my eyes.

8. I Love You, Ex-Husband C. Your mishandling of funds, resulting in a $1,000 tax penalty on my 2006 returns served as a vehicle to remind me that there's no looking back in life. And that I made the right decision in this divorce. You never stop thinking of me and I appreciate it.

9. I Love You, Puta Face & G and Cabroncito. You provide Jack with so much anxiety and agita that I remain entertained by his dramatics for hours on end. Not to mention, you keep his doctors, pharmacists and local bar in business. It's people like you that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

10. I Love You, William R. Penzo. If you hadn't abandoned your responsibilities almost 32 years ago, I might have actually been close to the riff-raff you call family. And perhaps been Martha Stewart's cell mate. Your sacrifice bears the mark of a true father.

*smooches...with sarcasm so subtle that I almost had you going*
maybe you don't like your job
maybe you didn't get enough sleep
well, nobody likes their job
nobody got enough sleep
maybe you just had
the worst day of your life
but, you know, there's no escape
and there's no excuse
so just suck up and be nice

Monday, April 23, 2007

With Age Comes Wisdom...Or So I Hope...

I remember a time when the slightest insult, criticism or rejection sent me on a downward spiral of grudge-holding, binge-eating and voodoo doll-making. I actually kept a mental list of people who would feel my wrath the minute I became powerful enough to execute it and not get caught.

Last night...I threw it out.

I was just about to add another "mark" next to someones name for their continued disregard for one of my good friend's feelings and just decided, "You know what? This is poison!" Hatred on this level takes a lot of work, man, and I'm exhausted. I'm just going to let Karma and The Universe handle these things from now on.

See, I'm on a path towards inner peace.

I'm learning to let things roll off my back. To find the lesson hidden in the event, and what my part was in it. So the March 2007 "On Blast" post was the first and last of its kind. I don't want to keep track of people who have wronged me and mine anymore. Fuck all them nappy-headed hos. I won't give them a second thought.

Instead maybe I'll mention those who've brought a smile to my face...or not- I'm not that touchy-feely, but you get the point. No more LIST.

How far am I in my quest? Not very. I mean, getting rid of The List- which by the way I've been keeping since the 6th grade and was the equivalent of about 4 loose-leaf pages long- was the biggest step. I just fed it in "the shredder" and kept it moving. But so far I'm trying to catch myself before I delve too deep into the dark side.

Here are a few things from my past that includes people who used to be on The List, where I searched myself for the lesson learned in order to let go of the hatred and be at peace:

I was in a bad marriage. Nothing spectacular. Lots of people have been in my same situation. But I spent a lot of time putting much of the blame on him just because it was funny and made me look better. But I made the choice to marry him even though I did not want to. That whole sham could have easily been avoided if I had said, "No, thank you" when he popped the question. The Lesson? You can't fake love and respect. If you don't feel it, you just don't. You can't marry someone because you want to save them or want to be saved, or because it will look better because there is a kid involved. It will always leave you unfulfilled.

I was dumped. Twice. You're all probably like, "Boohoo! You were dumped twice in your entire dating life. Big Fucking Deal." And that's true. But no one likes to be rejected, and when your track record is as good as mine, those two stick out like sore thumbs. However, there was no need for me to visit a santero after both break-ups to seek revenge. That was just juvenile of me. And I can't even be sure that it worked (...or did it?). The Lessons? Break-up no. 1: No matter how cute you are, someone will always be cuter, have bigger boobs, longer hair, etc. So you have to bring more to the table than just your looks. Also, if your partner is so easily swayed by bigger boobs, well, then, they are not for you. Break-up no. 2: If all you have in common is that you both love sex, and you compromise all of the other things you've ever wanted in a mate for a really good lay, that's all you're gonna get- a really good lay. No depth, no meaning, nothing. And that's not love and it will never be enough.

My grandma died. This hit me like a ton of bricks and I'm still not over it, so I won't talk too much about it right now. And I took it out on the medical community. But not getting a check up and bad-mouthing doctors all over this blog is not going to bring her back. The Lesson? I wish I knew...I still want my grandma back and I really just don't understand what happened there. Why weren't her doctors on top of this shit? All the money they charge/earn and no one could make her better? Bullshit!!

In case you didn't notice, this is my biggest obstacle to finding inner peace. One thing I can say that resulted from grandma's death is that it served as the final kick in the ass I needed to finish school and follow my dream to become a writer. She didn't come here and bust her ass as a nanny and cleaning person just so I can answer someone else's phone for the rest of my life. Oh wait- is that the lesson?

Hmmmm...well, just in case the whole inner-peace thing doesn't work out, is it ok for me to keep Ray-Ray's and Q-Dog's phone numbers? You know, just as back-up?

*smooches...with a little less baggage in tow*
meanwhile wild things are not for sale
anymore than they are for show
so i'll be outside, in love with the kind of beauty
it takes more than eyes to know

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Who Needs a Liver Anyways?

Not since Jack was in town last November have I had so much to drink as I did last night.

I met up with Lani for a little girls night out and instead it was more like a "girls night of binge drinking and table dancing!" That's right, you read correctly, TABLE DANCING. Thank goodness I had the twins securely fastened and covered up- that bar was not ready for me. Lani on the other hand...

It started off innocently enough. We met at Swift on 4th street to chat it up and just spend some time together- it had been too long since I'd seen this chick! We bashed, then praised, then bashed men again and next thing you know it was two beers later and we were headed to another bar to meet up with a friend of hers.

At Tom & Jerry's on Elizabeth (off Houston) we hang out with Lani's friend and his motley crew of peeps, which included the owner of the bar. Can we say, "free drinks?" Hell yeah, my niggaz! And about five beers later some guy named Russel is convincing me that one more beer won't kill me. And somehow he makes a good point. What's one more beer?

Sometime later we head to yet another beer, er, bar, where everybody is shit-faced and the upstairs is full of half-naked people grinding on each other. Some more beer is placed in front of me and my mother did not raise a rude I drank it and the next one I was handed, too.

That's when I was asked to join Lani and two of the waitresses up on the bar for a little Coyote Ugly 2-step. Napkins were flying like confetti. Lani was flashing her new and very cool tat. We all held on to the ceiling for dear life. Fun was had by all.

Never mind that it was 4AM and I had to attend Mayor Bloomberg's press conference the next afternoon. Never mind that as I type this the smell of breakfast from my landlord's apartment is making chunks rise in my throat. Never mind that this fucking room won't stop SPINNING!

Drinking, dancing and singing along badly to Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" in a bar with your friends? PRICELESS!

*smooches...with just the slightest hint of corona-flavored vomit*
there's a river of people
that runs past my eyes
it's beautiful enough
just to watch it go by

Friday, April 20, 2007

N.'s Thoughts on Cloning...and Other Musings

Sorry, But I Don't Yolato on the Third Date
Mr. DJ and I enjoyed each other's company on Monday night at the Olive Tree Cafe and bantered back and forth over a platter of falafel and hummus. Then, out of nowhere he had the audacity to suggest dessert- the Yolato (yogurt + gelato) place across the street. Doesn't he know that I have TWO BRIDESMAID'S DRESSES to fit into. And more importantly that I've sworn allegiance to Häagen Dazs' Butter Pecan Ice Cream for all eternity? He's lucky he's cute...and smart...and tall...

That's Why You're Ugly!
I'm doing you a favor, coming up in here and writing about your establishment so that more customers will want to come why the funky attitude? Unnecessary!

"Do You Agree with Cloning? Why or Why Not?"
N. replies to K.'s homework poll with an astounding: "No, because then there will be too many people." That's my girl. The Girl Army slowly advances and The Enemy doesn't even know it! HA!

PMS Week at Casa Penzo: Foods of Fury
What I've ingested in an effort to calm the symptoms: Burger King, McDonald's, Mexican food from my local place three times within a five-day period, Nilla wafers, crunchy cheese doodles, chicken wings from the Korean deli and N.'s belly. The PMS gods must be appeased lest I perish!!

Well Wishes and All That Crap
•To Irene who had a baby (4/2, Olivia) and will have a wedding anniversary (4/22, 2 years) all in one month.
•To Deb who survived "panel" and can now brag that she has her MFA.
•To Megan who had a birthday...but I forget the date.
•To Lani who will have a birthday next week.
•To my auntie in DR who's turning 50 in a Fiesta Extravaganza that I unfortunately cannot attend.
•To the earth, because Earth Day is Sunday and I get to go see Mikey B. give his PLANYC speech at the American Museum of Natural History for work.

"I Was a Dork Then, But Look At Me Now!"
Someone I allegedly bullied in the 6th grade found me on and left me this message with his phone number:

From: Wayne Carter (view profile)
To: ME
Sent: April 19, 2007 04:24:31 PM
Subject: Hi, from Wayne !
Are you the one who stayed making fun of me all the time. I have been trying to contact you for years. I thought your last name was Perez. We were in the 6th grade together. (917) 881-XXXX.

I responded with my oh-so-sensitive:

From: ME(view profile)
To: Wayne Carter
Sent: April 20, 2007 06:24:41 AM
Subject: RE: Hi, from Wayne !

I can honestly say I have zero memories of you. If I teased you, sorry, but we were kids so I really hope you haven't been trying to find me just to air grievances- that's such a waste of time.
Anyway, hope all is well.

His bad luck that he decides to write me during PMS week. Part of me is tempted to call- what could he possibly want with me? Should I call??

Minnie Wears Magnetic Slippers- And She's Buying the Mattress Cover, Too!
My nut-job cousin just confessed her adoration of Gary Null, much to my chagrin, and I just can't bring it up enough, especially after reading this article on the "doctor" found on none other than The amount of teasing this will allow me when dealing with her is endless, and I can't wait until she reads this post and sees that the pestering has begun!! HA!!

You Better Answer Your Damn Phone; Alec is Calling!!
I bet you Ireland learned her lesson: the Baldwins are mad gangsta and when they come a-callin' you s'posed to answer the G. D. phone. Don't make him have to fly out there and straighten yo ass out!! You rude, thoughtless little pig!! I'm just saying...

* a magnet-free zone*
don't fool yourself
into thinking things are simple
nobody's lying and still the stories don't line up
why do you try to hold on to
what you'll never get a hold on
you wouldn't try to put the ocean in a paper cup

Thursday, April 19, 2007

And That's All I'm Gonna Say About That

Okay. You've all heard about this Virginia Tech shooting. So have I.

At first I didn't want to give this kid anymore "free publicity" and decided I would not discuss it here. But lets face it- if we don't talk about it, it's like saying it never happened. This rug we keep sweeping shit under is lumpy enough as is. So lets talk about it. Leave a comment or email me; tell me your thoughts. I really want to know.

But lets not turn the discussion into a debate about the NRA and Gun Laws, etc. That's an animal of a different color. I want to focus on us, the U.S. in particular, as an aggressive and materialistic society.

This morning, a friend replied to my email that poked fun at my cousin's adoration of Gary Null with the following:

I have a couple of thoughts about this last Virginia event. It shows clearly that something wrong is going on in society. Things like that are going to happen more often. Same situation like in Paris suburbs, Austria "Turkish" neighborhoods etc. This Korean boy, the killer clearly realised that his chances to drive Mercedes etc. are next to nothing, so why bother?? Don't you think I might be on the ball here?

To which I responded:

Capitalism is not without its casualties, for sure, but you and I are inundated with the same bullshit as everyone else but don't shoot up a school or office. Someone who takes this extreme action has something wrong with them.

All we can do as a society, in my opinion, is:

1. Allow for competition- all this whiny-assed "everybody's a winner" talk only harms. Because not everybody is a winner. Some people lose and that's a fact. But you fill a kid's head with that bullshit and it will fuck him up.

2. hmmm...I thought I would have a number two but I don't. That's all I got- my solution to the world's problems: "The world needs ditch-diggers, too."

And they responded with:

As usual you are right, I agree. He was fucked up, i was just trying to explore other side of the coin.

But I don't just want to be right. I like to offer a fair assessment of situations. So with my Gemini mind I sat for a minute and thought about the other side of the coin and then replied with:

The other side holds validity- we are a very materialistic world- only it has always been this way. Only difference is that before you didn't have it shoved down your throat. But with today's "wired" world, MTV Cribs, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous...well we created a nation and a world of "covetors." (Is that even a word???)

Acts of aggression like this are part of the ramifications.

But we can never steer away from the fact that the individual is ultimately the one who makes the decision as to what path to take-kill a bunch of people because I can't afford a BMW, or be happy with my Honda Accord because there are starving children in Africa who don't even have shoes to walk with?

It's the pro and con of free will...which fork in the road holds your destiny?

As a mom, of course I want my children to take this world by storm. Plans for my Girl Army to bring about The Revolution are definitely underway.

But I also paint a realistic picture of the world for my girls. N. knows that she is mommy's princess, but she also knows that when we play Uno somebody has to lose. And it will probably be her. Not because she is worthless and I'm an Uno champion, but because I've been playing longer and am able to use a more sophisticated thinking process in order to strategize my moves.

Letting her win is not going to help her realize that being on top is something that is earned. She needs to lose those games so that when she wins one she will realize that she practiced and concentrated and worked really hard at paying attention to how the game is played- and won.

I let her throw her little tantrums and express her anger. But I explain that stomping around the apartment and throwing her cards in my face are not going to help her win. Maybe she doesn't get it right now. She's only six. But she will, and that will hopefully keep her from shooting up a classroom in the future because she didn't get the grades/friends/achievements as the person in the next dorm room.

* done with this whole situation*
the sun is setting on the century
and we are armed to the teeth
we're all working together now
to make our lives mercifully brief

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Green Living I Can Get Behind

Since my attempt at saving the planet fell flat due to lack of interest, I figured I might want to start smaller. By saving myself.

Now don't freak out- I don't mean it in the religious sense (hell to the naw!), but rather taking a renewed approach to my physical health. It seems like the natural thing for me to do seeing as I don't like to go to the doctor. In fact, just the other day Jack used a harsh tone with me when I confessed that I've let a whole year go by without investigating what that sharp pain in my right, lower abs could be: damaged fallopian tube from botched operation in '97? the big C? Who knows! But I digress.

It also needs to happen now while I have the momentum of so much weight shed in the past six months. I'm actually almost down to my pre-baby weight. It's like I've been given a second chance. So I'm gonna roll with it.

Steps I've Already Taken:

1. Gave up red meat. Not because I care about some dumb animals, but because I was informed that it takes longer for one's body to digest tasty morsels of T-bone than anything else you eat. So bye-bye Tad's Steaks and Jamaican beef I loved you so...

2. Gave up sugary beverages. This was kind of like cheating because I never really drank them to begin with. The liquid portion of my diet now consists of water, skim milk (I REFUSE to switch to soy because is tastes like ASS), and only 100% real fruit juices- no high-fructose corn syrup allowed! PLEASE NOTE: exceptions are made on a regular basis to include Coronas, tequila and other concoctions meant to get me fucked up.

3. I accepted my mom's flax seed challenge. For the past week or so I've been including two spoonfuls of milled flax seed into my diet daily. It's actually not bad, has sort of a nutty flavor to it. I'm supposed to increase my intake gradually. I'll let you know how that works out.

4. I decided to give "Green Smoothies" a chance. These are tasty treats in a nasty package- it looks awful but tastes like any other fruit smoothie out there. Had my first one on Monday. I just had to close my eyes when I drank it and not think of the handfuls of broccoli and spinach blended together with my strawberries and bananas.

5. Will probably buy the "Green for Life" book EVERYONE has been recommending lately. When one person mentioned it to me I called him a granola-eating freak. When another person mentioned it I called him a hemp-wearing loser. But after the third person recommended this book/program, I took the hint. Ok, ok, I get it. Stop bringing it up. I will buy the stupid book!!

Steps Left to Take:

1. Learn to lay off the white rice and its starchy cousins. Don't get me wrong, brown rice is tasty and I enjoy it, but nothing soothes my troubled soul on a bad day like a heaping bowl of freshly cooked white rice. It takes me back to my grandmother's kitchen. And probably why I can't bring myself to let it go.

2. Accept that some vitamins might have to be ingested in the form of a pill. One day I will be able to differentiate from the pills that kill and ones that heal. It's a mental block I can't get passed. As it stands I will continue to try and get all my nutrients from actual food products.

3. Recognize that while TOFU has four letters, it is not a dirty word. But first someone has to do something about that marshmallow consistency and that cardboard taste. Then maybe I can embrace it.

4. Try not to gag when offered eggplant. Nothing brings chunks to my throat like the thought of having to eat this nasty ass veggie. BLECH!! But it's in so many veggie recipes as a meat replacement that I might have to give it another chance. BLECH!!

5. Realize that "physician" does not always equal "murdering, non-cause-of-illness seeking, drug-pushing, god-complex-having oppressor." Eventually I will have to see a doctor about this pain in my side. And my excruciating headaches that seem to come from nowhere. And the pain in my wrists. And my fucked up knees. And the myriad of mental illnesses I'm sure I "suffer" from (did I just end a sentence in a preposition? *GASP*). When I do, I would hope that it will be someone who will actually care about my well-being and therefore allow me to check my mistrust and stank attitude at the door.

6. Exercise. This will be the hardest change to accept in my life because, well, my couch is oh-so-comfy and my schedule is hectic and I can't sweat my hair out and my sneakers are all wrong and my knees are bad from wearing heels and...I can go on and on. I hate, no LOATHE WITH THE FIERY VENGEANCE OF 10,000 SCORNED WOMEN, to exercise. Hard work intimidates me. Sweat makes me vomit. And a score of other whiny assed excuses. But if I can be guaranteed a physician-free existence, then I may think about it. Maybe. Does walking to the fridge count as exercise?

*smooches...with a green smoothie "milk" mustache*
so i'll walk the plank
and i'll jump with a smile
if i'm gonna go down
i'm gonna do it with style

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Sometimes Perez Stimulates My Mind

Today, that crazy-haired blogger, a seriously addictive guilty pleasure of mine, posted this OPED by Harvey Fierstein published in The New York Times. In it Mr. Harvey points out how selective our country's intolerance of hate speech can be, and I have to say I agree with him.

It usually takes a lot for me to be offended by something that someone says. Actually, I can't think of anything that would personally offend me- I guess I just haven't come across it. Stuff has upset me, but not offended.

But I have noticed that lately, like Mr. Harvey so eloquently stated, it's still okay to call someone a "faggot" and a "lard ass," but you might want to steer clear of calling someone a "nappy-headed ho" or imply that certain dark-skinned human are, in fact, "niggers."

Keep in mind, though, that "nigga," "niggah" and "niggaz" is still ok, but only if you're black. No, really. Snoop Dog said so. Plus it's in the Colored Folk Handbook. Didn't you get your copy at the local liquor store/cash checking place?

You might want to pick one up before the PC police comes for you.

*smooches...droppin' the N-word like it's my JOB*
life in the circus ain't easy
but the folks on the outside don't know
the tent goes up and the tent comes down
and all that they see is the show
and the ladies on the horses look so pretty
and the lions are lookin real mad
and some of the clowns are happy
and some of the clowns are sad

Friday, April 13, 2007

I'm a Journalist, Ya'll!!

Thursday night. I leave the comforts of my shoebox apartment for a gig in the Bowery, interviewing a cool, new Cuban timba band, La Bolá. I'm not too keen on the Lower East Side- nothing personal, just not for me, but work calls so I go a-running.

At first, on the train ride over I'm all comfy in my seat, rocking out to Ciara on Minerva's iPod (hey gurl!! that's right! I'm using your shyt!!) when it hits me that maybe, just maybe, I might want to prepare some questions. You know, like a real reporter would.

I brainstormed- what could I ask the bandleader that would not reek of a page out of Interviewing for Dummies, and I think I came up with a pretty good mix. I mean, I'm the nosiest person I know. This job is perfect for me.

When I get there (after a tiny train mix-up and a $2 coat check) and meet with the dude, he says to the woman at the door, "Let her in. She's a journalist here to interview me." Journalist. Me.

I suppose that means I can't tell him what a cutie he is?

He grabs a beer, I pull out my dorky note pad and tape recorder, and we begin. A solid 20 minutes of good shit, folks. I'm not making this up. Me. I did this.

Then I let him go prep for the first set and wouldn't you know it? I know the DJ spinning at the club! We went to college together, but we weren't friends or anything, just had mutual friends, so I don't say anything to him.

But later when the band is performing and he leaves the booth, we exchange pleasantries; he's a fellow Domini-CAN from BK. He gives me his card (for a possible interview later on) and then I remember that I had heard he was a DJ and artist, and that his sculptures were featured at El Museo del Barrio in the fall...nice stuff, too. Small world!

So the band was awesome, the crowd was loving it, the lead singer hit on me (everywhere I go, man...), I reconnected with an old acquaintence and I really enjoyed my new label.

Observations from the evening:

Old man with the beer: Your belly is too BIG. You look 6mos pregnant. Maybe you should lay off the beer?

Guy at the door: Yeah, I'm gonna need your phone number...for professional reasons, of course...

Awww shit! Check out the white boy shakin' his bon-bon!!!

Couple at the bar: GET A ROOM!

Couple on the dance floor: DAMN! Ya'll put everyone else to shame with your smooth moves...OMG, did he just DIP HER?? I'm jealous!

Girl by the couches: Bedazzled, Lycra/spandex bell-bottoms? Really? That's the outfit you're gonna go with? Okay...

Best part of the night:

NO COVER CHARGE, BI-ATCH!! Cuz I'm with the band!

All in all it was a good night, and I can't wait to reap the financial benefits of this interview...

Maybe I'll be able to afford a pack of those newfangled, highfalutin energy-saving light bulbs Laura loves so much...

*smooches...LIVE, from Crash Mansion*
i had to leave the house of conformity
in order to make art
i had to be more or less true
to learn to tell the two apart
and i had to leave the house of fear
just about as soon as i could crawl
ignore my face on the wanted posters
stuck to the post office wall

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Reduce My Impact?

So here's the deal: no matter how hard I try, I can't get away from the fact that I actually care about the environment and my part in it's deterioration.

True, I don't recycle because I'm lazy, and I waste electricity and I'm not selective about the food I buy and how it's produced and delivered to my grocery store.

But I care nonetheless.

Why don't I take more action? Because I'm broke, ya'll. Plain and simple.

Only rich, white folk and "BUPPIES" can afford to buy fresh, organic, free-range and install solar panels and use geothermal energy to heat and cool their homes. Those of us on a budget have to wait for chicken to go on sale before we can eat meat this week, so fuck whether or not the damn bird had a good life before the slaughter- my kids need to eat.

And yes, I'm inundated with the doom and gloom of global warming effects all day at work, and I know that NYC, being a coastal region, will feel the burn and possibly sink like Venice, but god-dammit- I need to have my computer on so I can find freelance gigs, chat with my friends...and find a man, fossil fuel burning be dammed!!

What prompted this defensive rant, you ask?

Well, I read this article about a couple who are attempting to reduce their carbon footprint on the planet by trying to make as little impact as possible- no tissue paper, no cars, no elevators, no food from farms further out that 250miles...pure craziness! Only white folks can some up with stuff like this...

Although, I have to admit I'm intrigued. And a little jealous. I want to do something like this. Sure, two people going with tissue and take out for one year hardly makes a difference, but the message it sends can move many.

Like a jaded NYer who's struggling to find her place in this world.

I want to start a movement. Have people say, "You know, that Dr. Penzo, she really did a great thing there." And I will, too, just wait...right after this commercial break...

*smooches...impacting the earth like a motherfucker!*
i bet you're looking for the little red x next to the red arrow
and the words 'you are here'
i bet you're hoping that your heart will send up the white flag this time
or some sign that the coast is clear

Monday, April 09, 2007

A Ho is a Ho is a Ho

This Imus bullshit is getting out of control. And who's spinning it out of control within an inch of its 5 minutes of fame? Yep, my favorite Black Man, Al-Fucking-Sharpton.

The bile that rises to my throat when I hear his name, see it in print or have to see in bloated face in the news is indescribable. Al Sharpton is the boil on society's ass. We need him lanced. Like yesterday.

So in case you don't know what's going on, Imus (a NYC radio personality known for his "acid tongue") said something he thought was funny on the air. Here's the story:

Imus says he'll check his acid tongue By MARCUS
FRANKLIN, Associated Press Writer

NEW YORK - Calling himself a good person who said a bad thing, radio host Don Imus said Monday he would check his acid tongue after being lambasted for making racially charged comments about the Rutgers University women's basketball team.

"Here's what I've learned: that you can't make fun of everybody, because some people don't deserve it," he said on his nationally syndicated radio show Monday morning. "And because the climate on this program has been what it's been for 30 years doesn't mean it's going to be what it's been for the next five years or whatever."
Imus said he was "embarrassed" by the remarks, in which he referred to the mostly black team as "nappy-headed hos." He said he had made the comments in the course of "trying to be funny," but he was not trying to excuse them.

"I'm not a bad person. I'm a good person, but I said a bad thing. But
these young women deserve to know it was not said with malice," he said.

He pointed to his involvement with the Imus Ranch, a cattle farm for
children with cancer and blood disorders in Ribera, N.M. Ten percent of the children who come to the ranch are black, he added.

"I'm not a white man who doesn't know any African-Americans," he said.

Imus said he hoped to meet the Rutgers players and their parents and coaches, and he said he was grateful that he was scheduled to appear later Monday on a radio show hosted by the Rev. Al Sharpton, who has called for Imus to be fired over the remarks.

"It's not going to be easy, but I'm not looking for it to be easy," Imus

Sharpton has said he wants Imus fired and that he intends to
complain to the Federal Communications Commission about the matter.

"Somewhere we must draw the line in what is tolerable in mainstream
media," Sharpton said Sunday. "We cannot keep going through offending us and then apologizing and then acting like it never happened. Somewhere we've got to stop this."

Meanwhile, the Rev. Jesse Jackson planned a protest in Chicago, and an NAACP official called for the broadcaster's resignation or firing.

Imus made the now infamous remark during his show Wednesday.

The Rutgers team, which includes eight black women, had lost the day
before in the NCAA women's championship game. Imus was speaking with producer

Bernard McGuirk about the game when the exchange began on "Imus in the Morning," which is broadcast to millions of people on more than 70 stations and MSNBC.

"That's some rough girls from Rutgers," Imus said. "Man, they got

"Some hardcore hos," McGuirk said.

"That's some nappy-headed hos there, I'm going to tell you that," Imus said.

Imus also apologized on the air Friday, but his mea culpa has not quieted the uproar.

Jackson said his RainbowPUSH Coalition planned to protest Monday in Chicago outside the offices of NBC, which owns MSNBC. Jackson said protests were being planned across the country.

James E. Harris, president of the New Jersey chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, demanded Sunday that Imus "resign or be terminated immediately."

Allison Gollust, a spokeswoman for MSNBC, said the network considers
Imus' comments "deplorable" and is reviewing the matter.

Karen Mateo, a spokeswoman for CBS Radio — Imus' employer and the owner of his New York radio home, WFAN-AM — said the company was "disappointed" in Imus' actions and characterized his comments as "completely inappropriate."

So he called some basketball players nappy-headed hos. So what? How do we know they ain't hos? And come on- I'm sure 95% got some nappy heads on them. Those braids and relaxers ain't foolin' me.

Why is this such a big deal? If Dave Chappelle had said it, we'd be laughing our asses off. But Imus says it and that's it- he must answer to the PC police?

Give me a fucking break and get over yourself, Al. This is just another ploy to keep your name out there and attempt to get the black vote...on whatever it is you're running for lately. Please just give up. NOBODY LIKES YOU. WE ALL LAUGH AT YOU. JUST GO SOMEWHERE AND STAY THERE!!!!!

Here's the thing, I probably wouldn't be on Imus' side if Al Fart-head weren't involved. But everything that man touches turns to shit in my eyes! I might be angry at this old white man making fun of black girls just for kicks, but thanks to Al, I'm just disgusted with the media attention.

But on the other hand- and this is where being a Gemini is a real detriment- why is everything sacred all of a sudden? The slightest off-color remark can send people off the chart these days. When did we all get so sensitive? Why can't we call a ho a ho??

*smooches...with my nappy, ho-ish ways*
its been way too long since i've been behind the wheel
headlights guiding me right through the dark i feel
dry eyed, trying hard to resist
sleeps first kiss
everytime i have time to think
i think of this

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Justification For My Doctor Phobia

All I can say is EWWWWWWW!!!

Dentist guilty of urinating in surgery sink
Thu Apr 5, 2007 11:33am ET

LONDON (Reuters) - A British dentist was found guilty Thursday of urinating in his surgery sink and using dental tools meant for patients to clean his fingernails and ears.

A medical tribunal said it was satisfied the evidence showed 51-year-old Alan Hutchinson, who "routinely" did not wear gloves or wash his hands, had risked the health of "himself, staff and patients" for more than 28 years.

A dental nurse who worked for Hutchinson for 16 years said she had caught him urinating in the sink more than once.

"He was tucking something into his trousers before zipping them up hastily. I walked over and I was behind him. He moved to the left and I could smell urine," the nurse told the tribunal.

A later hearing will decide if the dentist's unhygienic habits impaired his ability to treat patients, and if so, whether he should banned from practicing.

What is there to discuss? YES!! OF COURSE HE SHOULD BE BANNED FROM PRACTICING MEDICINE...disgusting ass mo-fo!! No wonder Brits have such nah-stee teeth!

*smooches...fresh from the dentist...NOT!*
science chases money
and money chases its tail
and the best minds of my generation
can't make bail

Thursday, April 05, 2007

There's Always a Catch...

After the date from hell with Shortie Lazy Eye (SLE), I almost canceled another date I had scheduled for last night with another gentleman from the same site where I met SLE. I mean, after that disaster, and the fact that Burger King did not have the chicken fries I was so craving to soothe my troubled soul and the Mexican place by me got my order wrong, I was convinced it was time to throw in the towel.

Luckily for Wednesday night's date, Mr. DJ, Google had offered me this lovely H. G. Wells gem as a quote for the day:

"If you fell down yesterday, stand up today."

So I kept the date.

And wouldn't you know it? Mostly everything went well. Mr. DJ was as described (matched his photo, fit, tall, smart, interesting) and we had the best time, even made plans for the weekend. Our conversation did not have that awkward quiet moment where you hear crickets chirping and pins dropping, and he showed interest in more than the fact that I'm beautiful- I'm getting so tired of hearing that.

And I'm not trying to be conceited or anything. All my life I've tried to stress my book smarts because I don't want to be judged on looks alone. I used to wear large, baggy clothes to hide my figure; wore no make-up until recently; sported ponytails like it was my job; all in an effort to not be just another pretty face in the crowd. It's partly why I tack on so many degrees after my name and why I long for my Joan Collins said: "Beauty is like being born rich and getting poorer." Who wants to deal with that shit...but I digress.

But of course, as is my lot in life, Mr. DJ was not without his flaws. Are ya'll ready for this one? Ya'll ain't ready...

He's Haitian.

Yes. His ancestors are from the very place that incites murderous tendencies from my lovely grandfathers: one a former military police officer and the other a member of the "militia" that participated in the terrorizing of Haitians in DR back in the day. Neither one of which is willing to let the grudge go.

So I finally meet someone from cyberspace that I feel I could really mesh with, have intelligent, literary conversations with, analyse and scrutinize pop culture with, and sadly, if it works out I'll never be able to bring him home or I'll have to lie about his heritage to my family. And something tells me that would not be cool with him. I know it wouldn't be cool with me if the tables were turned.

I swear, Karma has a hard on for me! That BI-ATCH!!!

*smooches...with a potential love interest from...St. Lucia, yeah, that's the ticket!*
sometimes i see myself
through the eyes of a stray dog
from an alley across the street
and my whole mission just seems so finite
my whole saga just seems so cheap

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Jaded to the CORE!!!

When did it become a bad thing to show up to a first date with a gift and shower the other person with compliments? No, really, I'm asking, because that's exactly what my date did last night and it ANNOYED me to the point that I wanted to punch him in his face.

Let me see if I can lay out the entire situation for you so it will be clear.

I met this guy for a drink. I met him through a myspace-type site. I tried to give up meeting people online but lets face it- I don't have time to meet people any other way. I'm over-extended and always in a rush. That said, in his photo he looked okay. We exchanged a few notes and he seemed nice, intelligent, blah blah blah.

At the lounge, one of those after work, happy hour hells that I LOATHE, he's waiting for me by the bar...and he's short. Strike one. Not short like 5'4" short, but too short for my 6' height requirement. He's like 5'10" if he stands REALLY STRAIGHT. That dampened my spirits from jump.

Next, when we sat down, I think I noticed a lazy eye. Strike two. Stop laughing, I'm serious. But I was afraid to look right at it in case it was lazy...I didn't want my face to reveal my horror and disgust.

Then he hands me a gift bag with a bottle of perfume. Nice? No. Foul Ball. The bag was probably not from the store where he bought it, if he bought it, and there was no tissue or ribbon. Just a box inside a bag. Kind of like it was a gift he had left over from Christmas. You know, the type of gift someone gave you who didn't really know you...and he tried to pass it on to me, foolishly thinking that A) I'd be flattered and grateful for a re-gifted perfume bottle, B) I'd be impressed that it was a Dolce & Gabbana scent and C) I wear perfume...because I don't.

The final nail in the coffin had to be that his confidence level was lower than mine, and that is not cute. He admitted to being nervous because I was so beautiful, and the pink elephant in the room was that I was way out of his league. But his nervousness did not excuse his goofy, boisterous and coon-like behavior, kind of like Martin Lawrence on speed, or his constant refrain of, "You're so beautiful." Yes, muthafucka, we've established that I am beautiful. Can we please move on? Strike three. You're out!

Needless to say I had my stank face on all night, and even had Jack place the fake emergency phone call to get me out of there...something about N. throwing herself down the stairs...but the kicker is that Shortie Lazy Eye actually thought it went well. And wants to see me again.

How do I put this gently?


*smooches...with so much beauty it's a curse*
there's a spider spinning cobwebs
from your elbow to the table
while my eyes ride the crowd
in a secret rodeo
i smile with my mouth
lift my watch up to the light
say oh, look, i have to go

Monday, April 02, 2007

Just Bought a New Soapbox...You Like?

I don't know how it is for the other side, but calling a Dominican "Haitian" might get you stabbed with a broken Presidente bottle. This has been a fact for as long as I can remember.

As a little kid being Haitian or having Haitian attributes was the equivalent of being called every derogatory and hateful word in any and every language. Haitians were "bad." They practiced weird, devil-worship and ate little kids while they slept. At least that's what I heard.

So of course, when I got to that age where you find the one thing that will upset someone and use it against them, and met a boy who's parents were from Haiti, I had a field day! I'm not proud of it, but I got all the kids in our grade to start calling him a Haitian Booty-Scratcher. Now folks- I have NO IDEA what that means, but it used to make him SOOOOOO MAD that we just kept doing it. Again, I'm not proud of it- I was 12. And a bully. Deal with it.

But as a teen, I got a job at a used furniture store owned by a Haitian family in Elizabeth, NJ. By then I'd graduated from one of the most diverse high schools in the city and no longer felt the need to use terms like Haitian Booty Scratcher, and saw nothing wrong with working for this family- I needed money to pay for college, they needed a tri-lingual store manager.

Well my folks FLIPPED THEIR LIDS about this. Everyday after work Papi would question me about my boss, if he asked me to "do anything weird" or if they offered me anything to eat or drink. It was so bizarre! Especially because my boss was nothing but nice to me- no sexual tension, no improprieties, just an employer-employee relationship all the way.

Fast forward to last year, when I read The Farming of Bones, which told the Haitian side of the story of the conflict between the two neighbors that share Hispaniola in the Caribbean. That book was so powerful that I went and read Why the Cocks Fight, a NON-FICTION book about the strife between the two nations.

And it is just so hard to believe that so much hatred can live on such a tiny island.

So recently, I'm reading the news wire from DR and I see these two items:

8. AI calls discrimination "deeply rooted"

Amnesty International (AI) classifies the treatment of Haitians living in the DR as "deep-rooted racial discrimination" and adds that the country is responsible for many human rights violations.

The international human rights organization's "Life in transit," report was presented as part of the International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination and reveals practices like deportations of Haitians without any judicial supervision and the denial of birth certificates to millions of children born in the country to Haitians "with irregular situations" as part of the problems that Haitians face in the DR.

AI representatives Gerardo Ducas and James Burkey criticized the Dominican authorities' denial that discrimination against Haitians existed, and said that the government hasn't taken the proper steps to rectify the problem. AI says that they asked to meet with the Dominican authorities to present them their report but weren't able to.

The pair did meet with Haitian Prime Minister Jacques Edouard Alexis who took notes on the report but refrained from commenting.

9. France's responsibility in Haiti

Hoy newspaper's editorial today criticizes the alliance of Amnesty International and the Mayor of Paris, Bertrand Delance, as an irresponsible way of passing on the Haitian problem.

"France, if perhaps Delance has forgotten, enslaved Haiti in the most cruel manner. For a change, the Dominican Republic has been since then where Haitians come to reduce the penuries that the French left in that country. They come to work in farming, construction and street sales and send their savings home," writes the editorialist.

The editorial also points out that the accusation comes shortly after President of Haiti Rene Preval denied the Dominican government was violating the rights of Haitians.

"The French community knows that France has much responsibility for the calamity in Haiti, but refuses to accept that past and looks the other way, as do other economic powers.

"And Amnisty International is not concerned with the situation of Haitian jails nor whether human rights are respected in Haiti, and is even less capable of requesting that France honor its historic responsibility in the luck of Haiti," reads the editorial.

First, I'd like Amnesty International to check their history books and realize that the discrimination goes both ways- DR has ruled over Haiti and Haiti has ruled over DR, and each time power changed hands and borders were moved brutality came with it. FROM BOTH SIDES.

I'm not denying that Dominicans discriminate against Haitians, because I've seen it first hand, but we are not the bully that AI is making us out to be. We just happened to get the better half of the island. Not our fault. If Haiti has issue with that, tell them to take it up with the Spaniards who landed there and claimed it as their own.

Second, hell yeah France needs to see their part in all this, but the editorial was a little over dramatic. Just like I laugh whenever I hear a black person talk about reparations (negro- you ain't NEVA gonna see that money, 40 acres OR a mule, so get over it!!) I laughed at the thought of France actually giving two shits about an old colony full of African descendants who have bastardized their language and the Christian religion. HA! Not in my lifetime, that's for sure.

And finally, I want to say to AI, Haiti, DR and all of the other whiny-ass, blow-hards who have nothing better to do but point fingers and conduct studies and write reports and blow things out of proportion in the media:

SHUT UP!!! Life ain't fair! In this version of reality, the darker your skin, the lower on the totem pole, buddy. Those are the breaks. I didn't create it, I just admit it.

The racial discrimination that exists in the Dominican Republic didn't start with the colonial authority that took over Hispaniola and told the natives and transported Africans that they were sub-par humans. From what I hear it started way before that in other places. It ain't going nowhere, so just accept it.

What AI and other nosy-bodies need to realize is that DR is a proud nation (pride goeth before the fall, I know...) and OF COURSE they are going to deny any wrong doing. But it's like teaching your kids that eating meat is wrong and then eating a cheeseburger in their faces- the US and other powerful nations that "run" AI are chock full of discrimination and are telling the "brown" countries that they are bad for doing it, too...where's the study on that??

Yeah, that's what I thought...

PS- Please keep in mind I'm not clear on all the facts- I was too busy watching TV to do my Social Studies homework- but that's my gist on it. Feel free to find the ACTUAL facts and clue me in.

*smooches...just this side of being Haitian*
gunnin for high score in the land of dreams
morbid bluish-white consumers ogling luminous screens
on the trail of forgetting
cruising without a care
the jet set won't abide by that pesky jet lag
and our lives boil down to an hour or two
when someone pulls a camera out of a bag

and i am trying to evolve
i'm just trying to evolve

On Blast: March 2007

This is a new feature that I'm starting: every month I will put those "on blast" who have angered me or my people in any way. So watch your back- you don't want to find yourself in these posts...

N- for giving me fever cooties the same week my killer cramps were due

VP at Jack's Job- for being an all-around prick and threatening his livelihood

Irene's Hubby- for not cleaning out the GD closet like she asked him to a GAZILLION TIMES!!

Dude I met on MG- for still trying to IM me after I told you to get lost

My ex- for allowing his wackness to affect my Federal tax returns by $505.00...rat bastard...

G.H. at work- for being the sloppiest "professional" graphic designer with whom I've ever had the misfortune of working

Kinko's- for making me wait so damn long for my shyt, which I'd already paid for...isn't that the point of using the online services? To not have to wait??

The CL DUO- Bohemian and Mellie Mel- one for thinking I was a booty-call and the other for trying to make me chase him...I think not, fellas...keep it movin'...

The UFA Ladies- for stinking up the 3rd floor bathroom with their nasty cigarettes and cheap, hooker-ish perfume. Must I gag everytime I go to urinate?

NYS and TurboTax- for lying about how long it would take to get my state refund...9 days my ass...

Allcott Group- for not getting my paycheck correct not once in three months...ya'll SUCK AZZ!

*no smooches!!*
it just all slips
away so slowly
you don't even notice 'til you've lost a lot
i've been like one of those zombies
in vegas
pouring quarters into a slot