Monday, March 31, 2008
She was just arrested for "allegedly" stalking my boo AGAIN. Bitch... don't make me use my rent money to fly out to LA and beat your ass...
Is The Jaded NYer gonna have to choke a bitch?
*smooches...hoping my poor sweet Johnny is okay*
and I look ten times better than her! HMPH!
photo via The Los Angeles Times
Well, anyway this video is chock full of the very things you're not supposed to discuss in mixed company- Politics and Religion. But who would I be if I didn't put it out there?
*smooches...putting down my Kool-Aid and rushing over to Amazon.com to buy this book!*
I mean you just GOTTA laugh!! Like I'm gonna listen to Oprah or this Clay Aiken lookin' fool, or the idiot doing the voice-over! Excuse me, but I only listen to the voices in my head, thank YOU very much...
I mean, I have really good friends that are white, people that I'd trust with my children and my life even (doesn't that remind you of the justification some white people use to prove they aren't racist? "My good friend at work is black!" HA HA HA HA!!). All of my girlfriends but one have/had white boyfriends/husbands, and I've been cool with them. And yes, I, The Jaded NYer, have dated white men in the past. So what has changed?
Well, I did some breathing exercises and cleared my mind (as much as one can with crazy N in the background) and this is what I came up with, straight from the heart, after 4 hours of deliberation. Please note that whatever I write from here on out can and will change at the drop of a dime if the Universe answers my prayers and John Cusack and/or Slash come to their senses and fall madly in love with me. And actually, Slash don't even count in the "exception" category 'cause his momma was black. I'm just sayin...
As a preteen, all of my crushes were white: Jon Bon Jovi, Bret Michaels, Slash, John Cusack, Rob Lowe, Kirk Cameron, Jason Bateman, and that mute kid from the 3rd Nightmare on Elm Street movie who never went on to do anything notable with his acting career. One would think that as an adult I would end up with someone who resembled these dudes, and so did I, but it didn't pan out.
In high school, I suppose I flirted with the idea and even dated a white guy for a short time as a senior, but we all know how that ended up. I found that white dudes- at least the ones I knew- just weren't that into me. Or if they were, they were not bold enough to approach me. Plus, bear in mind that I'm from Bed-Stuy, and before gentrification there were only like 3 white people in my neighborhood. And what is it we learned from Silence of the Lambs? We covet what we see...
In college, the time that seemed ripe with opportunity for interracial dating, I came face to face with a HUGE turn-off when attempting to date outside my race... the questions!
"How do you get your hair to do that?" it just does; I was born this way.
"What is this strange flavor in this chicken?" adobo, fool, DAMN! you ain't never heard of ADOBO?
"How do you say [fill in the blank] in Spanish?" [insert half-assed translation here]
So, as my first order of business as an adult, I suppose I made a conscious decision to only date brothas. Someone who shared my experiences and wouldn't treat me like an anthropological project or a new exotic creature that they can display on the mantle. Now mind you, at my school, black people were few and far between, and the three Dominican dudes on campus were into white girls [and SHORT] so they were a lost cause, but the few brothas on campus... yeah, they gave me much love.
After my divorce, when I dove back into the dating pool, I tried to be open to all kinds of dudes because, well, my marriage sucked ass and I was only looking to have fun, but the white dudes I met up with were mad corny, and not in a cute way. So not only were there questions, but this weird annoying species of white dude started to emerge in NYC: The White Dude Who Swears He's Down-- he listens to old school hip hop, he plays basketball, he likes to quote the movie Friday, and thinks that Lauren London is the shizznit, and says it just like that: "Lauren London is the shizznit!" I can't be a part of that sham (damn you, Eminem!!!).
Add that to the fact that white men rarely if ever have sexy, kissable lips or that "Mandingo" physique that makes this girl melt (and when they do it screams "STEROIDS!"), or the beautiful butter smooth skin in all shades of brown that complements me so well, and there it is- why I can't get with a white dude. At least the ones I've run into.
I need someone who I can really relate to, not just in looks but the whole package. Someone who's mother won't look at me sideways 'cause I'm a little darker than she expected and vice versa. Someone I won't need to translate for at family functions. Someone who won't try to hold my hand back as I try to add hot sauce to the food. Someone who knows how to use a wash cloth and appreciates the importance of lotion (okay, that was ignorant... but funny... admit it!!).
It's a preference like any other; I hate eggplant but I love broccoli. Same thing. (Okay, that totally made sense in my head. In print...I'm not so sure...). I need to be with a dude that gets me and mine without having it explained to him. And it really wouldn't hurt not one little bit if he just happened to look like Javon Walker, Robert Griffith or Boris Kodjoe!
mmmmm.... Boris Kodjoe....
Hermanas- where ya at? Can you feel me on this one...
(But John or Slash, honey-bears, if you're reading this, it doesn't apply to you two, okay? You can ask me all about my hair, and I'll translate ANYTHING for you ANYTIME!! Call me!!)
*smooches...hoping this isn't as offensive as it seems*
and if it is, oh well, what can I say?
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
I calmly said, "K, you do realize that you are not allowed to date yet, right? And that means boyfriends are not allowed, because you're twelve. Right?" And she did that stupid nod that kids do when they just want to appease you, but are secretly calling you a dumb whore under their breath. I know that nod. I perfected that nod! But I digress...
This morning, I'm passed out on the couch, fighting nausea and exhaustion (how, exactly, does one wake up tired?), and K walks over to me and says, "I just wanted you to know that [insert wack-ass white boyfriend's name here] broke up with me three weeks ago, so you don't have to worry about that anymore." And stupid sleepy me actually asked her why- I mean, really! Why did I ask that poor girl that?? So she said, "I don't know, he just stopped talking to me and wants nothing to do with me."
Now it has already been established that K is the Junior Champion Liar, so maybe she does know, maybe she doesn't know what the deal is, maybe they are broken up, maybe they aren't. But let's give her the benefit of the doubt and say everything she told me this morning is true...
WHO THE HELL DOES THAT MOTHERFUCKER THINK HE IS??? HOW FUCKING DARE HE STOP TALKING TO MY BABY??? OH HEEEELLL NAW!! He done fucked with the wrong Dominican family, I'll tell you what! Don't EVEN let me run into that boy in a dark alley...it's ON!!!
*smooches...plotting a drive by on a 12-year-old*
I'm not above beating someone else's kid... the older I get the more ready I am to whoop some random ass for no good goddamn reason! lol
*so originally this post was filled with racial slurs, and then I thought- Is that really how I want to present myself to the world wide web? As an ignorant racist? But who am I kidding..I make fun of everybody... so go back and read the post again, and every once in a while, insert the word "cracker"
Thursday, March 27, 2008
I try to live by the "Live and Let Die" mantra everyday. I mean, we all have our vices- food, sex, heroin, reality TV- every one has something that isn't healthy that they do to fill a void, quench a thirst, deal with stress.
But you... you...
Your vice is the most disgusting and annoying of all time. Want to know why? Because you impose your smoking on me, as if I don't already have a vice of my own that I'm trying to quell, as if the air quality in Manhattan isn't already atrocious, as if the only one you're physically hurting is you.
At least other addicts only poison themselves! You don't see crackheads forcing pipes in the mouths of random people on the streets, do you? DO YOU? But you... you light up your little cancer stick and blow the smoke out into the air with no regard as to where it will travel to after it leaves your mouth. Want to know where it goes? In my hair. On my clothes. Up my nose and into my lungs. That's where it goes, and I'm SICK OF IT, literally!
Ever since I moved back and started working in Manhattan, I've been waking up with the nastiest smoker's cough... AND I DON'T SMOKE!! I don't even want to describe for you what I coughed up this morning because it's too gross to even relay.
In Brooklyn everything is cool; you smokers usually only congregate outside of bars... that I can almost tolerate because, for the most part, the smoke is contained to your little group. But in the City? Shiiiit...I can't fling an over-priced iced mocha latte without hitting a smoker outside of an office building, walking to the train, crossing the street, buying a dirty water dog...you get my point...spreading that shit all over my personal breathing space!
And I'm sure you'll read this and say, "Fuck you, Jaded NYer! I can smoke all I want!" And you'd be correct. You can smoke five, even ten packs a day if it suits you. But I don't want to smoke; I tried it before and it's grosser than gross. What your selfish ass doesn't realize is that when you smoke EVERYONE AROUND YOU SMOKES whether they want to or not, and I'm not having it. I'M NOT!!!
Just like I won't stand for the government telling me what I can do with some random fetus taking up space in my uterus, so will I NOT stand for having vices I have no interest in partaking in shoved down my lungs.
So here's what's what: I don't like you. I don't like having your nasty habit blown in my face and I really hate going home everyday smelling like an ashtray. I've tried to give you the side-eye, the stank-eye, the crook-eye, and even my special reserve, hardly-ever-use-it-'cause-I'm-trying-not-to-burn-in-eternal-damnation-forever-and-ever-evil-eye, but you continue on in your quest to give me lung cancer. So now you've pushed me to the limit.
Me can'ts take no more.
The next time you blow smoke in my face, I'm going to grab that cigarette from your nicotine stained fingers and put it out in your eye. That's right, you read correctly, YOUR EYE. Then I'm going to grab the rest of the cigarettes left in your pocket, break them up, and make you eat them! THEN, after you've shat or thrown up the (partially) digested vices you love so much, I'm gonna rub your fucking nose in it like I would while potty training a dog.
And if you don't believe I'll do it just fucking TRY ME!!!!!!!
In the meantime, TRUST that I am looking into how I can get your chimney-ass zoned right off the streets. Oh yeah, I'm taking it there, and if it takes the rest of my natural life and beyond, I will not stop until smokers are only allowed to do their nasty business in a tiny corner of their apartments, with the windows closed and the shades down like the FILTHY MCNASTIES that they are.
*smooches...desperately looking for a job in Brooklyn*
and don't even get me started on the ancient BITCHES in the office next door who smoke in the bathroom... the very bathroom I have to use... the one with no window... fucking whores...
Situation: K needed the computer to sketch a microscope for homework and I gave her a small window before I kicked her out of my chair... I even started a 5-second countdown--
K: (frantic) I NEED A PIECE OF PAPER!
K: I NEED A PENCIL!
K: I NEED SOMETHING TO LEAN ON!
K: I NEED CHEESE!!
Situation: I'm milking my illness for all it's worth and REALLY don't want to cook dinner, so I try to manipulate K into cooking by offering ridiculous meal options--
Me: What's for dinner girls?
K: I don't know...mommy?
Me: We could have crescent rolls... with poop...
K: No, I've had poop. It's not very good.
N: Especially green poop...
*smooches...so sorry I ever introduced them to sarcasm*
I feel so sorry for the poor idiot who falls in love with them...
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Just when I thought I had this ish licked, all of a sudden... nausea, pain and just all-around ickiness. My bitch ass doctor told me, via her receptionist (because, you know, she's too good to talk to me herself...) to go to the ER and go as soon as possible. Which I, of course, translated to: finish out the work day and walk the 18 blocks to St. Vincent's.
I'm so hard-core...
So there I am, sitting among the dregs of society (that's right, I said it!) wondering what nastiness I'm catching by just being there, contemplating a walkout, fretting about the two album reviews I had due the next day PLUS the OP-ED and brochure copy I needed to catch up on for my 9-to-5. And trying to will my body well so that these quacks would not have to cut me open to find what was wrong with me.
Anyway, long story short- I'm okay, simple infection (can they just TAKE THIS DAMN TROUBLE-MAKING FALLOPIAN TUBE OUT ALREADY?!?!), they sent me home with meds and I took a sick day from work. Lani thinks my immune system is acting janky because of my stress/depression, and she's probably right. So that's it- as of today, this very moment, I declare that I am no longer depressed and/or stressed. There. Done. Now I can go back to living.
That out of the way, let's get to the juicy stuff: ER gossip, 'cause you know I was up in there clutching my side but takin' notes like a mo-fo!!
Lord Help My Nostrils
OH MY GOD! This homeless dude FUNKED UP THE BATHROOM near the waiting area!! And not with what he did in there, but rather with his b.o. I was already nauseous and that stench...lord...just thinking about it is making the chunks rise in my throat!!
And why did the maintenance guy go around spraying this god-awful "air freshener" all over the place, some of which got into my mouth and eyes??? Funk and potpourri do not, a good mix, make. BLECH!
Who Let Crazy In?
This Mase looking dude (bad boys forever...take that, take that...) strolled in, dirty clothes, fucked-up face, started to sit in the seat next to me (of course!) and began yelling, "No more visitors! Everybody go home!" That was my queue to move to the back of the waiting area, far, far away from the door.
You ever have some serious nausea and some serious hunger at the same time? Someone came into the ER with some damn McDonald's french fries and it reminded me that I hadn't eaten since 12PM and it was now nearly 8. I was sitting there planning all the deep-fried and processed yummies I was going to ingest as soon as I was discharged.
Get Out Of Here!
So let me get this right... YOUR friend hits someone's 86-year-old grandfather with his car, and you show up to the ER all teary-eyed, explaining your side of the story and what? Looking for sympathy from the grandson? Are you kidding me lady? You think because they are immigrants you can just come in here and what? Ooh! You're lucky I didn't care enough to go over there, impersonate a shady lawyer and tell your ass off!
These Things ONLY Happen To Me
The lady in the stretcher next to me? Yeah, she was a crack-smoking, alcoholic, lesbian ex-con who hears voices from time to time and lives in a women's shelter. Her partner is in jail for forgery and she hasn't heard from her since July because the partner was transferred from Riker's to an upstate facility... she's in for forgery, and the lady next to me did 10 months for grand larceny. Of a CANE. I cannot make this stuff up! Even the shrink was like, "A cane? How much was the cane worth?"
She's attempted suicide a bunch of times with pills and stuff, and came to America by herself in '78.
How do I know all of this? Because I OVERHEARD EVERY WORD of her psych evaluation. Can y'all PLEASE take this to a private room? Sheesh! And quietly... where's my purse? I'm watching you, lady...
Oh yeah, and the guy they bring in for the stretcher on the other side of me? Mhmm, he came in with his hands cuffed behind his back and two police escorts.
You gotta love this city...
*smooches...glad for the day off, not glad for the antibiotics*
and did I mention that one of the nurses was a tranny? I don't have any real proof, but "her" voice was mad low and "her" hands? Suspect...
oh, but I wanna give a shout out to my discharge nurse who hooked me up with two initial doses of the meds I needed so that I wouldn't have to get up this morning to fill my Rx. You ROCK!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
From the DR newswire:
Tests reveal 70 new HIV cases
Over nine thousand people were tested for HIV over the Easter holiday. Teams of doctors, lab technicians and specialists attached to 25 Presidential AIDS Council (Copresida) mobile units carried out the tests. According to Listin Diario, most of the positive results were found in Barahona and Puerto Plata, and Peravia had the least number.
Testing in the "bateyes", worker housing attached to sugar mills, showed a 3% to 3.5% incidence among people tested. Overall, the results matched the findings of the Demographic and Health Survey taken in 2007 (ENDESA 2007), which showed a 0.8% incidence in the general population.
Copresida director Humberto Salazar told Listin Diario reporters that the tests were conducted in tourist areas, mainly Boca Chica and Puerto Plata, and added that the final report would be released today.
*smooches...convinced that humans are the dumbest creatures on the planet*
we have all the tools to make the right decisions in life, but do we ever? *sigh*
Sunday, March 23, 2008
My mom thinks she's slick- she asked to keep the girls this weekend since she had off from work and all, and Mari was coming home, and they were going to church, blah blah blah... so how come on Friday she tries to pull the whole, "Come get yo' kids" routine?
Nah, man, no backsies; you asked for them, you got 'em. I'm too busy chillin on my couch with some Thai food...
Laundry? What Laundry?
Listen- I picked up the stuff I've had at the cleaners since October (2007), so I think that was enough of a chore to do on my free weekend. It was more important to see WHY my beloved Kaba Modern got kicked off (one word: JabbaWockeez!!!) and to catch up with Lost, Men in Trees and...well...maybe I watched Love Jones again... I'm like OBSESSED!
The Jaded NYer Goes To...Africa?
My thesis mentor is really pushing for me to go to Ghana this summer for a literary forum he's organizing, to the point that he's offering to waive a shitload of the fees if I just submit a story for the fiction competition/scholarship and pay my own airfare (to the tune of like $1600... I wonder how much that is is twat hairs, 'cause that's all I have...).
Deb- I know you're reading this... are you still thinking of going?? Deadline is April 15th, same as with taxes... C'mon, don't make me go to my other motherland alone...
Someone PLEASE Take My Camera Away
Because I've gotten a little more serious about blogging, I never leave home without my camera. But sometimes, really, someone just needs to rip it from my hands.
Case in point:
That's supposed to be a pic of me and Lani at Reis Saturday night...can't you tell??
And this picture I like to call: Ginger's Must've Been Full (it's a private joke; just laugh and act like you get it!)
I'm Sure He Lived A Full Life
Mambo legend Israel "Cachao" Lopez died. I'm a lil sad. So in memoriam, I posted some clips of him on my other blog. Check them out.
I Gave Up On Fantasy Baseball
I realized something about myself this weekend: I'm a total computer junkie. And I love me some baseball. But Fantasy Baseball is like having another full time job. I had to quit...
In other news, St. Louis kicked our asses today... how salty am I right now?
No Church For The Wicked...
Lani: You make church today?
Me: Nope. I did everybody's hair and then stayed behind and cleaned up
Lani: Aww, one more spontaneous church fire avoided (from heathens like us crossing the threashold).
My Sister Is Delusional
Don't believe me? Peep this video right quick:
And to make matters worse... she purchased some FAKE UGGS this weekend...I'm so disgusted!
And here she is with a serious case of the "itis":
Where did I go wrong with that girl??
*smooches...not wishing you a Happy Easter 'cause I ain'ts no hypocrite*
I stayed behind and did dishes- DISHES, people- rather than go to church. And when I say dishes, I mean every dish my mom even thought about owning was up in that sink. I don't get it- she lives alone...why was ALL HER SILVERWARE up in the sink??
Friday, March 21, 2008
In the meantime, here's some housekeeping, etc updates for y'all...
Read Up, Subscribers!
My blogroll has gotten a lil fatter as I keep coming across funny/informative/insightful web pages. Take a peek over at some of the places I visit and see if you don't fall in love with their words. And stop being so dang shy/stubborn and give Stranger Than Fiction some love! I know I don't update it very often but STILL... you make a blogger wanna cry...
Two of note: JACK has started a public blog- Lord help us all; and Lani is embarking on a sort of business venture with her new blog for city cycle junkies- ride on! I am personally endorsing these, especially because they are fellow Technites and OF COURSE everything they write will be PURE GENIUS. You know, like on my site.
Yetis All Over Manhattan
Every since I spotted that dude in the fur a couple of weeks ago, I've been noticing more and more people walking around looking like Bigfoot on my way to work. Fur coats, furry boots, even furry hats. What the hell? Who started THIS trend and where can I find them? I have a right hook with their name on it...
If You Want To Stalk Me On Tuesdays...
...you can find me at the 6th Avenue Bally's after work. I finally got the membership brouhaha settled, with the help of the very cute front desk hottie, Juan.
Yes, of course I'm going to the gym to work out to get fit and healthy, but it doesn't hurt at all to wear the cutest of cute workout ensembles and casually say hi to Juan.
Besides, he flirted with me FIRST! It wasn't my fault; I was just there to get my membership card. HE'S THE ONE who kept trying to engage me in conversation and gave me the eye and half-smile!
I just wish he weren't so young! Lani, hon, maybe you want to take this one??
Apparently, He Remembers How I Do
Recent text conversation with an ex:
EX: How are you and the girls? Hope all is well.
ME: We are fine. Um... who is this?
EX: Damn it girl, it's K
ME: Sorry! lol- didn't have your number
EX: Now I am hurt, from all our past conversations, you didn't save the number?
ME: That was a while ago! And we hardly speak. but I have your card, though
EX: Hmm, no love for KD
ME: LOL! You know how I do!
EX: *as he smiles* Yes I remember how you do...
*smooches...loving Friday so much, I wanna take it out behind the Middle School and get it pregnant*
people, I am in serious "30 Rock" withdrawal... April cannot get here fast enough... Penzo OUT!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
This morning I'm rockin' out to my latest playlist- chock full of Lupe, Kanye, Common, Jilly from Philly and a lil Mika, too- and ignoring my fellow straphangers as usual. UNTIL... a Hottie McHottie Brotha gets on the train and caught my eye. I was like WHOA...how you doin'? but not really, 'cause I had my headphones on.
I kept sneaking lil looks over at him and every time, I caught him looking at me. And I peeped that Superman tattoo on his hand, and could tell that his abs were smooth if not tight (my X-ray vision doesn't work before 10:00 AM)...oh the evil, dirty thoughts that were running through my mind... but I digress.
So the train pulls out of 14th Street, and me and my fellow 23rd-ers (as I call the TONS of folks who get off at the same station with me) inch towards the door, and Hottie McHottie is standing right in front of said door, and I can feel him staring at me HARD, trying to make eye contact with me...and I punk out!
But NYers- feel me on this- you're just NOT supposed to speak to people on the train like that! And just HOW am I supposed to transition from wearing my headphones and rocking out to Sean Paul to not wearing them and getting Hottie McHottie's digits?? I mean, what if I HAD met his gaze, then what? I was getting off the train in like two seconds- it's not like we were about to have a deep and meaningful conversation. And I had to get to work. Plus I had my headphones on. STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!
Oh forget it...
I am sooooo fucking clueless...
*smooches...trying not to remember that he had the sexiest lips I've seen all week*
and he smelled really nice, and was taller than me, and, OH GOD, I need to let it go...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
I saw this on the bulletin board at my daughter's elementary school about a month ago.
It jumped out at us, and for two seconds we paused like deer caught in headlights. Then we laughed and laughed and laughed all the way home.
*smooches...checking in the mirror just to make sure*
now you KNOW that child's teacher had a field day with this drawing!!
Monday, March 17, 2008
So Miss K decided to let me go into this parent-teacher conference tonight without 'fessing up to not doing her work in Math for two weeks and being disrespectful to one of her teachers and basically being too busy "hanging with friends" to be bothered with paying attention in class and whatnot.
And I gave this child of god the opportunity LAST WEEK to tell me if there was anything I needed to know before I met with her teacher, and she stood there and LIED TO MY FACE. You know, I was no angel at her age- puberty is setting in, friends begin to matter more, etc, but you know what? I ALWAYS got my work done. None of this ghetto-ass mentality of being dumb and not doing your work being cool...NOT IN MY HOUSE. Not then and most certainly not now.
It took everything I had not to fly home and wrap my hands around her throat. DISOBEDIENCE IS NOT AN OPTION. THIS HOUSE IS NOT A DEMOCRACY. As far as she's concerned, my muthafucking name is Rafael Leonidas Trujillo, Fidel Castro, Augusto Pinoche, Pol Pot, Adolf Hitler and Idi Amin up in this bitch. And if she don't like it, she can get the fuck out. And if she thinks I'm playin', she can just TRY ME!
That child has four weeks to turn this shit around- that's when the next report cards are coming in. If I don't see a marked improvement...Lord help me I can't even finish that sentence... I can't... I need Jesus... or a drink...
*smooches...glad that Jack brought the comic relief via text...*
otherwise I'd be typing this from the back of a squad car...
I've been doing hair since, whoa, like maybe age 8 or so (Minnie, correct me if I'm wrong)... I can do my own rolos, and have done them by myself from very early on; I can braid, apply a relaxer, hair color, pass the blower, hot comb/iron, trim the ends, and, most importantly, take this:
and turn it into this:
*smooches...with a WICKED backache that will last me for weeks*
it's always totally worth it, though, to see them head bang- wild hair all over the place- to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody...priceless moment...
So I stashed myself in my bedroom. With a camera.
*smooches...with 14 million words to say*
two more rainy weekends and this room will be spic and span!
Friday, March 14, 2008
On occasion, when the song would cut on, I would actually listen to the lyrics (which I totally know by heart now!) and then the Voices would start on their tangent thinking again. And they came up with this (taken from my notebook, written some time last week during a wicked bout of PMS...I forgot to date it):
Flaws...shit, I have a trillion-gazillion. Some you can see, some you can't. I have that widow's peak that I hated so much when I was a kid, made my face look like a heart...I shaved it once to get a rounder hairline; bizarre, right? Like, who does that? I leave it alone now, just part my hair to the side and you can't even see it. And the bangs, the bangs help hide it for sure.
My eyes always look tired. Sleepy. Is this what's meant by bedroom eyes? Dark circles, un-plucked brow, short stubby lashes, scar in the middle of my forehead. If I were a rapper I'd lie and be like, "Yeah, bitchez, I got that in a knife fight when I was selling rocks on the corner of Greene and Marcy" but yeah, right! I hit my head on the radiator...I was jumping on the bed after I was told not to. At least that's the story I was told.
(Oh, wait, so I hit my HEAD as a child? And I didn't go the the ER?? That explains soooo much!!)
And this nose! Lord Jesus, WHY? It makes it hard to distance myself from William R. Penzo when his nose looks back at me in the mirror every freakin' morning! Not fair! I'm not vain about it; the bump doesn't bother me. I just...I just don't want to look like HIM.
My smile is ok, I guess. My lips could be more even...sometimes the top one disappears when I laugh, and my canines could look less vampire-ish, but it's OK. The Acosta overbite passed over me so I'm grateful. My aunts are beautiful, but yeah, I like my mouth. It's okay.
My collarbone used to stick out something awful as a kid, made Nicole Ritchie look overweight; I hated it. I like it better now. My arms, too, are no longer strands of spaghetti. I'm happy for that, too. But my breasts...my...breasts... bigger and less perky than I want, for sure. $3,000 and a 100% guarantee that nothing will go wrong is what stands between me and a reduction. Plus I hear that sometimes you lose nipple sensitivity afterwards. WHAT?! What would be the point of living? I guess I'll keep buying the Ds...dented shoulders be damned...
My stomach...I can't really complain too much about it. It's not flat or fit because my nice mouth with the pointy canines and uneven lips allow too much food to pass through. I need a bouncer at the door to say, "Sorry, french-fries. We don't allow your kind here!" That would be cool- a big, angry Deebo-looking dude...crushing french fries with his bare hands.
(actually, it's not that hard to crush french-fries with one's bare hands...sometimes my stream of consciousness is a bit, well, developmentally challenged)
I gots no booty; I relate to Margaret Cho (was that who said it??) when she mentions Asian No Booty syndrome... me, too, honey, me, too. All "T" and no "A" I always joke. But I suppose it's not fair to have both. Would be nice, but I'll take what I got and hide it in a pair of really good jeans.
I like my legs; not as firm as back in the day but nice. I walk and walk and walk. I dance till I can't feel my toes. The legs are well taken care of. But below the calve...DO NOT TOUCH, DO NOT LOOK, just make believe there is nothing there. That middle toe is almost non-existent, and the second one is like that tall Asian ballplayer, an anomaly. I still wear my flip flops, and I see you staring. STOP IT. And DON'T TOUCH.
I see your flaws, too. I see you trying to hide your bald spot with that hipster faux-hawk. I see you trying to hide that belly with a black top, empire waist...I know that trick. I see that run in your stocking, that scuff on your shoe, the pen mark on your briefcase, the hole in your sweater, the blemish on your face. I can see where you attached the fake lashes and I can see the tracks from your weave a mile away. I saw your dirty and chewed up fingernails.
And I know you have secret flaws; they're not on your face but you have them. I have them, too. I'm bratty, did you know that? I throw tantrums all the time. I scream and kick and cry because I can't have my way. I'm selfish sometimes for no reason at all. I have a quick temper and sometimes, I tend to ignore people who really, really want my attention- I never want to give them what they want. Out of spite? I don't know. I'm secretive, and hide information away that doesn't even make sense to hide. And I lie about how I feel to keep up appearances- I'm that tough Brooklyn Girl and nothing phases me. But everything phases me, and when no one is looking I lock myself in the bathroom and cry in the shower.
It's my life, though. Imperfections...that's my job! Everything that crosses my desk has to be scrutinized and analyzed and a whole bunch of other "-izeds", because I need to find the flaws. The misspelled word, the misused comma, the missing period (Freudian slip??), the fragments and dangling participles- I have to find all of them and fix them. I have to make the words pretty and easy on the eyes. I have to make you want to read it, make you say, "wow that was perfect" and in turn, what you're actually saying to me is "wow...Raquel is perfect!"
I never let my lover look me in the eye, and if he does, I close mine. Because if I can't see him, he can't see me- remember that trick from when you were a scared kid hiding from El Cuco? Close your eyes and he won't be able to see you! I still do that, every time. If I close my eyes he can't see my flaws, or rather, I can't see him seeing *my* flaws.
*smooches...ripping out a page of my real diary in order to start anew*
every once in a while its good to let it all out. it was either this or eat more fries... and stop looking at the typos and grammatical errors in my blog! you're gonna make me cry!!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
High School Applications
I really don't remember having to jump through so many hoops when I was applying to high schools. I was a super-genius so it was a given that I would either A) get into a specialized high school or B) get a full scholarship to a good Catholic High School. And in case you're wondering, both happened, because I'm THAT good...
But these days there's so much to do...not fair! My mom didn't have to go through all this!
I had a phone conference with my ex and Ks guidance counselor to discuss her options, and the counselor let us know that she was interested in attending a school with a dance or drama program. Really? But what about when I gave you that application to that FREE summer intensive drama program at Pratt Institute, the same one I went to when I was a kid, and you were like, "no, I'll pass." I think she's inherited my lack of an attention span; I only lasted 1 1/2 summers in the dance program. I'd say it's safe to cross LaGuardia (the "Fame" school) off the list for her, too.
The child is just not interested in Math or Science, either, much to my dismay (I blame her dad...goddamn History major...) so I'll have to wait for Nerd, Jr. before the Brooklyn Tech legacy can continue. K expressed to me that she wanted to look into Brooklyn Latin, one of the newer specialized high schools with a Humanities curriculum. Guess where it's located? BUSH-WICK! When I heard that I was like, HELL TO THE NAW you ain't going there. Her guidance councilor co-signed with me on that. I grew up on the Bed-Stuy/Bushwick border, and that's like saying you live on the border of REALLY BAD and REALLY FUCKING BAD; I'm surprised I'm still alive to tell the tale...
So we're now looking at programs in schools like Benjamin Banneker in Clinton Hill or Midwood. I haven't had time to look at Manhattan schools yet because I only have 24 hours in my day and I've been told that some of those hours should be spent sleeping or eating.
But I'm also looking at getting her into Prep for Prep, a program that will enable her to gain admission (and a scholarship) to one of NYC's highly competitive prep schools like Trinity or Columbia Grammar or heck, even Horace Mann (I know people; I could make it happen...). But that might also guarantee that my future son-in-law will be of the melanin-lacking variety with ties to people like NY's recently disgraced Governor. So I gotta think about this one.
K is a very smart girl with excellent grades, so her options are wide open right now. I shouldn't have to resort to the Catholic School option with her, although attending Mt Saint Ursula, Mother Cabrini or St. Joseph's School for Girls (my almost alma mater) would not be the worst thing that ever happened to her.
The Results Are In
This might be more than you've ever wanted to know about my reproductive organs... So I have a 2cm fibroid taking up residence in/on the muscle (wall?) of my uterus. Fun! However, this is not the cause of the pain. That, she thinks, is due to a probable infection as a result from my operation (ectopic pregnancy) oh-so-long ago. Translation? She don't know; there's a pain, it's not cancer, it's not fatal, suck it up and deal. For now we are to ignore the fibroid, but keep an eye on it during my yearly visits.
And for that I gave up how many weeks of sanity? Did I mention I was so stressed that my period was TWO WEEKS late? And I'm never late. I was so freaked I took one of these... I call this photo: You Are NOT The Mother...
Nerd, Jr. Defends Her Title
The child is too smart for her own good; her report card for the 2nd marking period came back with all 4s (on a scale from 1-4) except for a 3+ in gym which was VERY surprising, seeing as the child can't sit still and loves sports! We'll get that fixed for the final grades in no time.
Her dad and I are so proud, but keeping an eye on her; Ns brand of evil genius is just not safe to sleep on...before you know it, she's hacking into government files and stealing plutonium from some Libyan nationalists...
Almost Got Caught Out There
Why do my friends let me go on and on about supposed love interests when they KNOW nothing will come of it because A)I can't pay attention to anyone long enough to really see it through and B) sometimes I suffer from a severe case of "What if he doesn't like me back?"
And OK, maybe I AM into him a little bit, but I'm chickenshit, OKAY?? There, I said it! I'll just hang out in the wings and let things unfold if you don't mind...
*smooches...glad to put the politics BS behind me*
it's just not my area of expertise; I really should just mind my own business...
*smooches...laughing so hard I almost pee'd my pants*
I can't say I disagree with her, though...
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
History happening right before my eyes... gotta love it... Even if it was by default, Patterson's gotta be feeling good.
*smooches...bowing down to the all-powerful Karma*
all around the country first-runners up from various beauty pageants smiled a lil smile and said, "There's still hope for me yet..."
80Gs on hookers... I can't even fathom that much money on something other than education or real estate... and folks- he's a product of three of the best schools in the country: Horace Mann, Princeton and Harvard Law. And still, he spent 80Gs on hookers... maybe he should have majored in economics...
On Tuesday, Dr. Laura Schlessinger just started some shit by stating that, when men cheat, women have to share part of the blame.
OOOH!! Dr. Laura is GANGSTA! Now you KNOW the ladies are gonna rip her a new one for that!!
Me? I have to agree with her only because I've been that wife. And I can honestly say that I had a part in my ex's indiscretions. I mean, my situation was nothing compared to this mess, but still...
Listen to me before you start cussing me out from your respective soapboxes.
I am in NO WAY excusing anyone's behavior- you break a trust and we're through. Period. But we're through because obviously A) you don't respect me enough to keep it in your pants and B)I don't love you enough to care (at least in my case).
A guest on Dr. Laura's show, "...psychologist Jeff Gardere, said that trying to decide who’s at fault is beside the point. 'It’s not about the blame game,' he said. 'It’s about looking at what’s going on in this marriage that may have been ripe for this to happen.'"
And I agree with that 100%. I won't go into details about my own situation (I must maintain some sense of mystery in our relationship *wink*), but I will cop to, at times, fostering the type of relationship that would make it easy for any man to turn his back on his vows. I'm not saying that to dog myself or take the blame, I'm stating a fact. I know what I did, how I behaved and the cruel, cutting words that came out of my mouth...I can accept my role in what went wrong.
At first, I joined everybody else in the whole, "I can't believe Silda Wall Spitzer is standing next to that fool supporting him and not beating him senseless with a chancleta" but the ex Mrs. McGreevey helped me see the other side of it and recall my own situation. Mrs. Spitzer knows what she's doing and why, and what kind of relationship she has.
Do you, Silda. I got your back, gurl!
You just KNOW that when the news broke, wherever Hillary was she was cursing like a sailor. Can't you picture it?
"That motherFUCKER! Now every *bleep* reporter is going to ask me about this *beep*!!!"
Then she probably looked over at Bill and gave him the stankest of side-eyes and said, "You just had to fuck those hos, didn't you?!" And Bill would be cowering in the corner yelling, "Please don't beat me again! I said SORRY!" ...Secret service would just quietly leave the room and let the ass-whoopin' commence.
At that very moment, somewhere along the campaign trail, Barack and Michelle Obama lit up a fat one and hi-five'd each other... McCain muttered under his breath, "Damn, I hope they don't look into Client 11..."
So now they are calling for Spitzer to step down, and in discussing it with Cathi (yes, we discuss politics...it's not always Tequila and balls with us, OKAY?) we both wondered aloud why elected officials are asked to step down when they get caught with their pants down, literally.
I asked my co-workers, seeing as they are 20X more knowledgeable on this stuff than I am (they've all been in politics and PR since the caveman days); come to find that in Client 9s case, this is a matter of broken federal laws: he had this trick brought across state lines for the expressed purpose of paying her for sex, PLUS where he got the funds (and it had BETTER not be from my tax dollars...) or how he "structured" the money to pay the ho is also under investigation.
Seeing as he was a very hard-ass'd attorney general, he shoulda known better- when you break federal laws, i.e. cheat Uncle Sam out of his money, OOOH, you're done, son! Uncle Sam is a crazy pimp who will slap a ho for coming up short- even his prize ho!
Here's a note to all men, whether you're in the public eye or just a regular Joe Schmo:
KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS, LEST YOU WANT IT CUT OFF!
If (when?) Idiot steps down, most likely Lt. Gov. David Patterson would take over. And all anyone is saying about him is that he's legally blind and that he's well-liked. So never mind that he's got 20-some years of experience in this hustle (whereas Spitzer was just a lawyer, not a politician), he's a swell guy so he'll do a swell job.
Is it me, or whenever you have a black man on the verge of taking over some shit like this people are always like, "He's so nice and charming and everyone likes him."
SO WHAT? Can the man run this shit or not, that's all I care about...
*no smooches right now...politics and infidelity gives me hives*
the saga continues... I'm still waiting to see an Inside Edition interview with Monica and Paula's take on the situation, HA!!!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Not sure what possessed me to do it, but I did. Maybe it's this feeling that, for real for real this year the Mets are gonna take it. Every article I keep reading adds to my excitement, even if the last game against those trick-ass Red Sox didn't showcase our power players (Beltran, sweetie, you need me to nurse you back to health? *wink wink*), Santana's arm has proven to be worth every penny so far. And yes, I'm aware we're only in the pre-season, but I got a feeling, OKAY? Just roll with it, dammit!
Now, I have the attention span of a small child, so I don't know if I'll stick with it throughout the entire season, but I don't know; today, something just said to me, "Play fantasy baseball."
Don't laugh! At least I didn't listen to the voice that said, "Quit your job and stay in bed, you're obviously too tired to go on..." or the one that said, "Just hop on that plane, move to DR and never look back."
And let me tell you- that last voice was hella-tempting! Let me tell you, and Mari- correct me if I'm wrong- if I were to call Abuelo right now and say that life in the U.S. just isn't doing it for me and I want to move down there with my babies and can I stay with him, he'd be like, "When you gettin here?" except he wouldn't use Ebonics when saying it. I'm sure my aunts and uncles would find me a gig right quick and we'd fall right into place in no time, you know, what with having a chaperon, driver, house maid and all in FREAKIN PARADISE. And I can't remember, does Abuelo still have those body guards posted outside the house? Nice...
Wait, why am I still here????
I could do it, change this blog to La Jaded Cristo Reyan, bitch about the lights going out, Haitians at the border, the price of eggs and trying to choose between los Tigres de Licey or the Aguilas from el Cibao in the winter baseball league...decisions, decisions...
But, wait, I got off topic. Where was I? Oh, yes, Fantasy Baseball... I manage the Brooklyn All-Stars (original name, I know LOL). If you play, look me up.
On Another Serious Tip...
Tomorrow I go back to my OB/GYN to get my test results. Considering that she's had me dangling at the edge of my seat for damn near two weeks on this shit, I'm pretty sure it's not cancer because she would have called me in sooner, RIGHT? I think I'm finally ready to accept Jack and Lani's suggestions that it's probably just fibroids or a benign cyst, or even scar tissue from that pinche operation I had in '98.
And you know, I remember that after the surgery, the stupid-ass doctor was like, "We managed to save your ovary and fallopian tube" and I was like, "What for?" I think they chalked it up to the anesthesia, but I was like, no, really- what for?? Don't I have another one of the left side? I'm just sayin...
*smooches...three weeks and counting for B-A-S-E-B-A-L-L!!*
I scheduled my live draft for 10AM on Saturday... I'm not really sure what that means, but I'm excited nonetheless! HA!
Monday, March 10, 2008
From The New York Times:
Gov. Eliot Spitzer has informed his most senior administration officials that he had been involved in a prostitution ring, an administration official said this morning...
Now that's gangsta!!!
Listen, rule of thumb: if you're a public figure, STOP FUCKING AROUND! Reporters and 'razzis are e'rywhere, man, and they will sell their grandmother for a story like this.
Spitzer- you're a fucking moron...
*smooches...laughing so hard I can barely type*
his wife is gonna kick his ass fo' sho'. I'm waiting to see what he's gonna say in his press conference...
Of course I did NOT participate (in the Jaded bylaws it specifically states that I am forbidden from actively participating in any activities that might, in any way, be misconstrued as "fun"), but I enjoyed the night. Even though I never connected with the other bloggers I was s'posed to meet up with (sorry, hon!) and I had to get hood with this youngblood who tried to step to me:
Wack-ass Young Guy (WAYG): What's your name shorty?
Me: (I gave my fake name, the one I use when I don't want to give my real name. Jack knows it...)
WAYG: What school you go to, 'cause I know you go to school...
ME: (giving him the side-eye) I been out of school, son!
WAYG: Word? How old are you?
WAYG: WORD? Yo, you a fine 32
Me: (rolling my eyes) Gee, thanks.
WAYG: So where you from?
WAYG: I'm from Jersey
Me: (I can't remember exactly what I said, but it was something like...) Oh, I don't talk to guys from Jersey...
WAYG: (ignoring my comment and RESTING HIS DAMN CHIN ON MY SHOULDER, cause did I mention he was short??) So can I get your number?
Me: (channeling Dave Chappelle's rendition of Dylan in his "Making the Band" skit) YOU TOO CLOSE, HOMIE, BACK THE FUCK UP.
That seemed to do the trick. I gotta remember that for next time. And I know, I let that convo go on for entirely too long, but I thought he'd leave me alone when he realized that every time I answered a question I would turn my back to him. Whatever...
But yo, seriously, check out the next show on April 4th. Did I mention that it's free??
THEN, while I was on my way home and looking for an excuse NOT to go home, I met up with my favorite Haitian at a loft party in the Slope at like 4AM (which was really 3AM, but, you know, Daylight Savings and all).
I mean crazy techno and world music with hype men on the mic, leftover club kids, smoking indoors (of all kinds; an no I did NOT partake...), cheap liquor, live drummers, videos playing on the walls, white girls giving lap dances...the whole nine! Can you say PAR-TAY?! Needless to say I'll be back...
I just know no other place in this country is as much fun as NYC... And that whole night only set me back $14...don't hate...
*smooches...determined to stay here no matter how many of my friends move away*
Sunday, of course, was just me layin' up on my couch watching Love Jones for the trillionth time and basking in the afterglow...
*smooches...but not for the faux pimps!*
I'm mad that some poor dumb animal had to die so that this fool walking on 23rd can look like a big, hairy Yeti jackass...
Five things you absolutely have to have, or need to have, or want to have...you get the picture. I copied my comment from Irene's blog here:
1- to come to terms with my grandma's death
2- to have the whole world know my name, but not my face
3- a place in the sun
4- someone who will hold my face in his hands when he kisses me
5- to not have the same relationship with my girls that I had/have with my mother
If I get all that, the other stuff will just fall into place...
*smooches...knowing that true happiness is never material*
maybe that's why I turned my back on science and became a starving artist? Nah...I'm just lazy...LOL
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Jack: ...Quiero cock medicine
Jack: Whoa oh here he comes...
Me: I'm glad you realized I meant Hall and Oats and not Nelly Furtado!
Jack: um, I'm 32, OF COURSE it's Hall and Oats!
*smooches...mad that my soul mate has my same taste in men*
Saturday, March 08, 2008
And I really don't feel like being.
What's a girl to do?
*smooches...finally bored enough to crack open that bottle*
does this make me a sad, pathetic lush? really? cool!
Friday, March 07, 2008
Dominicana Julia Alvarez (In the Time of the Butterflies, A Cafecito Story) was a finalist in the Criticism category for her Once Upon a Quinceañera: Coming of Age in the USA. Some heifer named Alex Ross won instead (whatever...)
Haitian author Edwidge Danticat, whose book The Farming of Bones really changed my views on Dominican-Haitian relations, won the award for her autobiography, Brother, I'm Dying. I was able to catch a reading from that book early last month and let me tell you- it sounds wonderful. I'm never one to read non-fiction but I added it to my "must read" list.
Way to go, ladies! And in OUR month, too!!
*smooches...entering the weekend with a smile on my face*
now I really, really have to get off my ass and finish my book...
Thursday, March 06, 2008
(WARNING: it might not be safe for work)
This dude is INSANE IN THE BRAIN!!!
1- She's a 54DD? Hmm...might be time to get new glasses, Alice. I'd say she was a 32D at best.
2- Are you actually in God's house saying the word "titties" and calling someone's mother a whore and saying they were born trash, but you're not trashing them? IN GOD'S HOUSE? Wow. That's gangsta.
3- I wouldn't be callin' on Elijah and his slayin' of lyin' preachers if I were you...
4- If you don't speak I don't eat? Shiiit, that's messed up! Well, keep speaking then, 'cause I's a food lovin' bitch!
5- Those who speak against you will get cancer AND have to eat eggshell soup with pigeon droppings gravy? Hmm... What's the weather like on your planet?
6- My personal favorite: in 500 years the black man has not progressed, but in two years Mexicans will be running their lives and writing their paychecks? Actually, I kinda have to agree on that one...you can't fling a sombrero in this country without hitting a Mexican these days...
And lastly, if this "Pastor Manning" is our last hope, well, shit, it was nice knowing y'all 'cause Armageddon is here!
Man, that was- HANDS DOWN- the BEST video I've seen to date... I'd really like to meet this poor delusional bastard; crazy people interest me...
*smooches...so so glad I got to see this video*
and make sure not to miss the boys in the choir cracking up behind him...
While I'm ecstatic at yet another month to remind y'all of how special I am (remember Hispanic Heritage Month last year? Good times, good times...), I was a little sad to see that although the National Women's History Project is a wonderful place to learn and promote the great things women have done throughout history, the Latinas on there are few and far between.
This year the theme is Women’s Art: Women’s Vision, and among the 2008 honorees NOT ONE was Latina. Excuse me? Are you telling me that in all the country (or the world) they could not find one artist of Latino decent? I beg to differ.
What about the Venezuelan sculptor Marisol (Escobar)? Or, um, I don't know, Frida Kahlo? And, oh, lookit here what I found by conducting a five minute Google search: AN ENTIRE WEBSITE THAT LISTS LATINA ARTISTS. I'm just sayin'...
Even with this blatant oversight, it is still our month to shine EXTRA bright, okay, so make sure you go out there and show the world how wonderful we are. And remember what Laurel Thatcher Ulrich told us: Well behaved women rarely make history...
Make some history TODAY!
*smooches...misbehavin' like a BI-OTCH*
I'd love for my female readers to put aside the humble pie for a minute and tell me why they matter, how they shine and what makes them great. No one will call you boastful or prideful...I give you permission to get up on that pedestal where you belong, my sisters!
Peacemaking at Rio Summit
Hoy is quoting unnamed sources that claim that during today's meetings, heads of state at the XX Rio Summit will discuss the recent tensions between Colombia, Venezuela and Ecuador.
Foreign Minister Carlos Morales Troncoso says that President Leonel Fernandez has spoken to the Colombian and Venezuelan presidents and is confident that both will act responsibly. He added that Fernandez has spoken to leaders of the South American neighbors with a view to helping reach a solution to the tensions.
Aside from trying to mediate South American troubles, coordinators have released the rough draft of the Santo Domingo Declaration, covering the topics of discussion for the Summit. These include energy, natural disasters and development. According to vice Foreign Relations Minister Jose Manuel Trullols, coordinators met over a two-day period, in closed sessions, in order to draw up the Summit agenda. He explained that once the coordinators had selected the topics, foreign ministers had to give their approval.
These topics will be presented to the leaders tomorrow. It is expected that 14 of the 19 heads of state of the Rio Group countries, and two prime ministers, will be attending the Summit. El Caribe reports that the Foreign Ministers will hold an initial meeting in the Ministry's Green Room at 9:30 today. The Summit will begin three hours later.
Today's work will finish at 5pm followed by a special dinner for the heads of state at the Presidential Palace at 8:30pm. On Friday, the heads of state will meet at 9am and the official Summit photo is scheduled for 9:30am. President Leonel Fernandez will make the inauguration speech followed by an address by Guyanese President Bharat Jagdeo. Then at 4pm President Leonel will hand over the Pro Tempore Rio Group Ministry to Mexican President Felipe Calderon.
Doctors keep promise
Doctors went on strike yesterday, as promised, but some patients still made their way to hospitals in the hope of seeing a doctor. Hoy is reporting that many of the country's hospitals were empty yesterday and that many patients, even the elderly, had to return home without receiving treatment.
Robert Reid Cabral, Dario Contreras, Padre Billini, Francisco Moscoso Puello, Luis Eduardo Aybar and Salvador B. Gautier Hospitals experienced almost complete work stoppages. Dominican Medical Association (CMD) president Waldo Ariel Suero described the strike as a success, while pointing out that doctors did treat patients who needed emergency care. The strike is expected to continue today in 188 hospitals and no word of any truce or any dialogue has been announced.
The Alternative Social Forum and some of the transport unions are supporting the strike. State sector doctors are fighting for a wage increase, among other things, and say they should be receiving a monthly salary of RD$59,000.
Bird flu worse than feared
Initially dismissed as an isolated incident in Higuey, the appearance of the H5N2 virus or avian flu in fighting cocks is causing concern as animal health officials admit that it is a nationwide problem. Nine separate cases of bird flu have now been confirmed by the Department of Livestock.
The first case was detected in Higuey in December and was thought to be isolated, but cases have continued to appear, the latest announced in late February. All chickens and roosters that have tested positive for bird flu have been killed and in some cases birds with no trace of the disease have also been culled as a precaution.
So far cases have been found in Barranca, La Vega, Santiago, Bani, Barahona, San Juan de la Maguana, Pedernales, La Otra Banda, Santo Domingo and San Pedro de Macoris. Fears about bird flu led Puerto Rican and Haitian officials to ban Dominican chicken and egg imports. PR eventually lifted the ban, but Haiti has yet to lift the ban.
JLG rocks the vote
Dominican music superstar Juan Luis Guerra is teaming up with Mexican rock group Mana to host a concert in Miami, Florida as a way to get Hispanic/Latino voters out to the polls for the US presidential election in November.
The concert will be held on 11 March at the Adrienne Arsht Center in Miami. Tickets for the show will sell for between US$200 and US$350, and proceeds will go to the "Ya es hora, ve y vota," campaign. The concert is being sponsored by Democarica USA and "Mi Familia Vota," among other groups.
*smooches...hoping none of my peeps on the island need medical attention or eats chicken"
I wish I could be in Miami for that concert- you know how absolutely AWESOME Juan Luis and Mana must be on stage together? I'm jealous!
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
He's all for sitting down with the post-Fidel administration and stated that he would allow travel to Cuba for relatives.
I'm kinda feeling that...
*smooches...wishing Hillary wasn't afraid to go against the grain on this*
if anyone is interested in reading the email I received detailing Obama's position on this issue, let me know and I'll forward it to you.
"Hombres hay mucho pero buenos hay poco"
Preach on, sistah girl, preach ON!
*smooches...still on a break from dating*
I know, I know; a lot of you need the translation. Loosely translated, it's basically the Spanish equivalent of "A good man is hard to find."
My 12yr old daughter is taller than you.
And you're hairdo is left over from 1963.
And you have gold teeth.
That is all...
*smooches...but NOT for the short Mexicans!*
I really want to know where oh where they get the balls to even THINK about asking me out...I'm not even approachable- ask anyone!!
Monday, March 03, 2008
My lovely sister (yeah- eat it up girl! You know how you love to shine!!) has offered to add me to her Bally's membership under their "Friends and Family" deal, which would allow me to still attend the gym but at a much reduced rate.
So, no more excuses. No more pouting. No more woe is me. As soon as the doc gives me the green light I'm getting back on the horse and will conquer this weight demon THIS YEAR.
I mean, for crying out loud- it's only 20 lousy pounds! I've lost more than that before (yes, my dearies...this Jaded NYer once weighed 200 lbs!! Can you believe it? But a very nice trainer helped me shed 30lbs to a more respectable 170). What's my freakin' problem already??
*smooches...reaching a healthy BMI in 2008 no matter what*
and did I mention Mari's also taking me to the Kanye/Rihanna/Lupe Fiasco concert in May for Mothers' Day? Don't hate 'cause my sister is cooler than yours!