Monday, October 27, 2008

OUT TO LUNCH...

I'm on a "mid-semester break" if you will... Monday Musings is cancelled for tonight, but feel free to check out the archives.

Monday Musings w/The Jaded NYer & Friends

All you need to know is that in my mind, I'll be some place that resembles this:



So when you notice that I haven't been visiting your blog or updating on Twitter, please don't email me a bunch of profanity-laced complaints... I'm on vacation, Dammit!

I'll be back on November 3rd with my Election Day segment of Monday Musings w/co-host Brother Omi, and of course, more blog buffoonery.

Laterz!

*smooches...looking forward to my mini brain vacation*
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I might just have a tropical drink every day... and wear a bathing suit... and eat nothing but seafood and fresh fruit...

Friday, October 24, 2008

She Taught Me How To *Side Eye*

Doña Fella they called her. Not with sarcasm but with oodles of respect. She commanded it from everyone, and they gave it without complain because, quite frankly, she was the shit and everyone knew it.

No one will ever replace her... often imitated, never duplicated...

I don't know when she came here to the states. Maybe in the late 50s, early 60s. Don't know if Trujillo was dead or alive yet. But she came here, like so many others, for a better life.

I'm told she took in kids and laundry to help Papi make ends meet; she pulled her weight and still made a home for him.

When we came along, she took us in, too. Did our laundry, fed us, combed our hair, taught us proper hygiene, nursed us back to health, whooped us with her chancleta (although not very often) and spent half her life in that kitchen. On her feet all day. Sick or not. Sweating like a slave. She came here for a better life.

We watched novelas (or rather, they watched us) together, and she made comments like "Voy a tener que comprar una vaca" everytime I would serve myself tall glasses of milk that I'd gulp down like water. In the market she hunted down deals like a pro, bending canned goods on purpose so that she wouldn't have to pay full price for them.

She would take a few of pieces of thick steak from the butcher and slice and pound them within an inch of their lives to make it stretch for all the mouths she had to feed. Papi, Minnie, Titi Gloris, Me, Mari, mami. Sometimes she still took in kids and they had to eat, too. Sometimes other relatives stopped by and they had to eat too. So she sliced and pounded that steak until two pieces turned into 10. She came here for a better life.

Once, I fell victim to a killer stomach virus. I was throwing up everything I'd ever eaten in my life and some stuff I'd yet to eat. I was at my house for once, in my own bed, tossing and turning, wondering what I had done to deserve this. I was used to eating my weight in food and now I couldn't keep anything down. I was sweating. Feverish.

I had this dream... oh, it was so beautiful... I had the biggest cheeseburger known to man and the thickest, sweetest strawberry milkshake to wash it down. It was a cool day out and I ate it all. My forehead wasn't hot anymore and I was so happy and satisfied. "See you next Friday," I told the shopkeep in my dream, and then I heard Grandma say "Que?"

I opened my eyes and SHE was at MY house for once. Sitting by my bed. Sitting vigil. Placing cold compresses on my forehead that smelled like agua florida and were ice cold. The sun was coming through my window, ready to set itself, and there she sat, smiling at me and feeling my forehead. She offered me a hot cup of ginger tea. "Tomate esto." My fever broke that day.

When she brushed my hair, it was like a lullaby for my scalp. I would rest my head on her lap and she'd work her magic, sing me songs in Spanish, tell me stories. When she bathed Baby Mari, she would sing her similar songs and I'd sit and listen... "Habia una vez/un balquito chiquitito..." Mami would sing the same ones.

She gave me a stern talking to when mami and I became sworn enemies shortly after my 18th birthday:

"Esa es la unica madre que tu tienes. Dale el respeto que se merese. Esta peliadera tiene que terminar pero ya!"
"She started it"
"Y que?"
"But I didn't even do anything."
"Pero es tu madre. Ya dejate de esa loquera."


I often wonder if mami got the same talk. If she did it didn't work; I was still "disowned" all summer and into the winter of 1993.

From her I learned how to cook. Change a diaper. Rear a child. Wash a dish. Run a household. Care for a man. Even when she said to Papi, "Mira, Miguel, yo te tengo ese odio" I knew she didn't mean it. Because it always ended in a smile, or a laugh. A side eye for sure, but with a smile or a laugh.

My stubborn American ways fought and fought her traditional Dominican ways; she spoke to me in Spanish and I answered her in English. We understood each other but refused to conform to the other. But you can't fight what is deeply embedded in your subconscious; what you grew up learning, knowing , wanting, loving.

Other grownups could always see the difference in the kids raised in her house. "Esa se crio con Doña Fella. Tiene buena cuchara." We were well behaved and knew our place. She did that. 85% of all our achievements were because of her.

I pushed myself to finish High School long after I'd lost interest because of her. I pushed myself to finish my BA in honor of her memory. And now, I am finally one week away from a finished thesis because her picture on my bulletin board above my computer watches me sloth away like someone who doesn't know better and is not pleased. Not with the unfinished thesis, or the messy kitchen, or the piles of laundry, or that babies who speak no spanish or the unmade bed. And especially not with the divorce.

Because she came here- leaving behind her young daughters and her sisters and her mother and her whole entire life- for a better life. For us.

I owe her the best me I can possibly become.

Rafaela Bermudez Ortiz
October 24, 19?? to August 08, 1999

*smooches...finally finding the courage to write this tribute*
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this was the post I really wanted to post this morning but was too chicken to do it... but then I spoke with Minnie about it and felt better about releasing it to the world.

Side Effects Of WHORE Mode May Include Violence

via text...

JACK: I'm in my WHORE mode.
ME: You don't say...
JACK: Wait. Was that sarcasm?!
ME: From me? Noooo!
JACK: Y otra vez! I seent it!!
ME: Never!
JACK: Pero maldita sea!!! AGAIN! right there. *points at text* SEE?
ME: *looks at text* Where? I don't see it...
JACK: *throws phone at you*
ME: OUCH! What was that for?
JACK: what?! *throws phone again and storms out*
ME: Maldita sea... pero este tipo 'ta loco *looks thru Jack's phone*
JACK: *returns, retrieves precious phone and leaves again, slamming door*


*smooches...with a phone-shaped bruise on my forehead*
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I might have to get Jack neutered, otherwise the gays of the Midwest might be in trouble!!

Thursday, October 23, 2008

So Fucking WHAT?

I've been lax over at my other blog, the one where I keep up with the entertainment Joneses... you know, the one you never read?

But anyway, I've been loving this P!nk single to death ever since it premiered, and I ESPECIALLY love the video because that girl is totally the White Me in another life. I love me some P!nk. And I knew if I posted this over there you'd never see it. That's why it's here, instead.

So for everyone who's had the rug pulled out from under them by some shiftless, shady ex... P!nk and I want to play a lil diddy for you:




*smooches...wondering how long before N and I make our own video to this song*
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considering I just bought the single from iTunes, I'd say... expect a video in about two weeks...

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

What You Can Do In Four Years



It's a long or short amount of time, depending on how you see it and what you're trying to do.

It can seem like forever if you're in jail or in High School.

It can go by too fast when you're in college.

And it can seem like three eternities when you're riding out a really god-awful American president.

But in just four years my friend Cathi was able to build a relationship with someone new after a hellish roller coaster with her ex-husband.

(and yes, I have her permission to write this, so just shut the hell up!)

I still remember the day she "ran away from home" and showed up on my doorstep in Riverdale, talking 'bout "I left Nate." I thought I was about to be in a really bad Lifetime movie. Was this fool about to show up at my door, too? Was C gonna have to get Manhattan College security to throw him out on his ass?

We went out that night to celebrate her new-found freedom and her mom flew all the way out from California to pick her and her three babies up and take them home the very next day. I thought it was going to be easy-breezy for her after that, away from him and hear her folks, but he had the courts drag her back to the East coast and the drama continued. It was a hot ghetto mess.

After she'd finally settled into her new New England digs, she tells me she met someone new. At first I'm like "whatever" because Cathi's not a dog- it's not hard for her to meet someone new. But she has three babies and a MOTHERFUCKINGASSHOLETRICKASSBITCH of an ex-husband, and that can make new relationships tough.

But next thing I knew it was a year later and they were still together. Curious.

They came to NYC and I met him and he was cool and all, but Jaded lil me gave him a few more months before he was out of the picture. Because that's what dudes do, right? Nope. Two years went by and still, there he was!

They came out for my birthday one year and he upped his coolness factor and all I could think was WTF? Why is this dude still here? Doesn't he know she has three babies and a MOTHERFUCKINGASSHOLETRICKASSBITCH of an ex-husband?

I invited them out for a weekend to AC and again, still here, still cool, same dude. Hmmm. Even my BF at the time was like, "I really like that guy; he was cool." Huh?

Then, for my birthday weekend this year, HE BABYSAT HER KIDS while she came down to the City to get drunkity-drunk-drunk with me. And when I showed up at her door in June with my BMW, er, I mean our friend Rich, he totally fed us and was the most awesomest host and designated sober person for the entire weekend.

So I'm talking with her this weekend and she tells me that TODAY it will be FOUR YEARS that they've been together and my brain almost exploded. WORD? FOUR YEARS?

Lets see... what have I done since 2004...

1. I learned that I cannot teach students with learning challenges, especially not in a boarding school situation

2. Left C, got a divorce, moved in with my mom, THEN moved to BK and became a full time writer

3. Slept with more guys than I care to admit (or recall).

4. Lost a bunch of weight.

5. Gained a bunch of weight.

6. Became a godmother.

7. Became THE Master of Fine Arts (pending, alright, dammit?!?!).

8. Saw my sister graduate from Cornell.

9. Gave up red meat.

10. Created an online empire (that's right, I said empire... and WHAT?!?!).

Take a look at what's NOT on that list...

Cultivated and nurtured a loving, caring, sweet-as-pie, makes-me-want-to-puke-they're-so-cute relationship with a really cool dude. The one thing I secretly want but don't really like to admit.

Cathi & Jim: here's to four (trillion) more years. You know I'm totally jealous... BITCH!



*smooches...currently accepting applications for my next BF/sexy-hot-lover*
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please be cute, tall, smart, tall, muscle-y, tall, funny, tall, well-endowed and tall. Oh, and please be tall.

Thanks!

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

How To Raise An Athlete(?)

This isn't a guide but rather a plea for help.

We all know I'm as lazy as all hell- that is a given. If forced to choose, I will ALWAYS choose the couch over some sort of physical activity, even sex. Yes, honey, even sex. That's how deep my lazy runs. I truly don't know what it is that has been fueling my latest gym craze because normally I'd be eating Buffalo wings at my computer watching really cheesy Black comedies like The Seat Filler and Woo.

However, my lil baby is a natural athlete with so much energy and spunk and even a little bit of talent, and I don't know what to do for her to help her pursue a life in sports. I mean I know I should just enroll her in sports activities, but which ones? How many? How often?

See, she's 8, and she still thinks she can do it all. I still haven't explained to her that maybe she might want to pick one or two and stick to that, because watching her make plans to be the next female Michael Phelps while taking the NY Liberty to victory and winning gold medals in women's soccer and being the first woman ever to play for the Mets, while becoming a black belt in martial arts, beating the Chinese in gymnastics (for once!), raising a family, being a chef, an artist, a doctor and teacher, just makes me so proud!!

But I have to keep it real. She's gonna need to narrow it down, but my flighty-ass can barely get myself focused. Sometimes I think "sure, she can do it all" and then logic sets in and is like, "sure, if you want her to over-exert herself and die in her 30s!"

So, blog family, I'm in foreign territory right now... how do I proceed?

I know for a fact she's more serious about soccer, swimming and basketball. Do I dare have her do all three at once? Do the seasons conflict with each other? Am I ODing on the extracurricular activities for her? Will her little body be able to stand it?

Inquiring mommies want to know...

*smooches...actually admitting to a part of parenting I'm not equipped to handle*
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well, at least not on my own. and my ex is not really a big help... he usually just goes along with whatever I say, so I want to hear from people who have kids who are athletes, or people who grew up playing sports...

Monday, October 20, 2008

C-I-L-L My Landlord...And Other Musings...

Monday Musings Tackles Fashion Retards- News At 11!
You... yeah, you... in the purple Uggs... and you with the goddamned shiny sticker still attached to your goddamned fitted... both of you, LISTEN UP: This week's Monday Musings w/The Jaded NYer & Friends is talking about you- Fashion Don'ts!

Yeah I said it- purple Uggs and stickers on your caps are fashion-fucking-don'ts, and whoever told you different was lying to you so that you'd spend your hard earned money on some bullshit.



Tune in tonight at 11:00PM while Irene (of LosingIrene.com) and I highlight some really truly god-awful fashion, in our attempt to shame you into STOPPING THE MADNESS! Feel free to call us with any clothing and style blunders you've seen or committed at 718-766-4011.

"Bobbing For Weird"
I attended a penis-licious bachelorette party on Saturday for longtime reader Kate, thrown by her sister, longtime reader Kelly (sender of the books from heaven) and I have to say... I've never seen so much penis in my life. Oh, I'm not complaining... just wish they had been real-life in the flesh penis... *sigh*

I mean, the things you can buy for a penis-themed party is just AMAZING! They had pasta, serving dishes, hard candy, pencil toppers, gummy candy, and CAKE (with cream filling!) all shaped like a penis!



And please, let's not forget the Pin the Macho on the Man game... HILARIOUS!!!!



At one point Kate told us of a party game someone's mom suggested to her (which she turned down, cause she's smart and non-gross!), where you take a hot dog, tie it around your waist, stick it into a bowl full of thumbtacks and see how many you pull out. The guest with the most tacks wins. Um, yeah... one of the other ladies at the party appropriately named that hot mess Bobbing for Weird.

And ohhhh, my goodie bag was so goodie... because it came with a vibe. YUP, and I don't even use those things but guess what? This bad boy was free so he's living with me now. All I gotta do now is gather up the nerve (and sexy partner in crime) to use it.

We'll NEVER Get A Record Deal...
But me and my baby know how to rock out in our tiny, messy apartment.


video

And when she's older, I know it's shit like this she'll remember. So fuck the laundry and the dishes, me and N have some tour dates to tend to... and no, we won't comb our hair or put strings on our guitars for those shows, either!

C-I-L-L My Landlord
It's Sunday. I'm recovering from the penis festivities, resting from my gummy-penis candy sugar-induced coma and my allergic reaction to Kelly's cat, when what do I hear?

video

This hell-on-earth immediately reminded me of this old SNL skit:

(it's a bad copy so you may need to turn up the volume... Eddie Murphy was a comedy GENIUS!)





I understand you have renovations to do in the apartment next door. I understand that. But WHY ON A SUNDAY?? Plus you knocked out my electricity and I couldn't play my iTunes to drown you out!!

And all the banging knocked down my little plaque with the Serenity prayer and my little blue lizard sculpture, and he's lucky they didn't break! Shoot... nobody messes with my little blue lizard... and can he please pump up the heat already? It's damn near zero degrees outside!

*smooches...gearing up for another winter in this mo-fo*
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I love living here and all, but in the winter my landlord likes to play stingy with the heat. Don't let me have to call 3-1-1 on his ass, 'cause I'll do it!

Friday, October 17, 2008

Cake And Kiwi And Green Lights

We were celebrating Thursday yesterday, because DUH! it was Thursday, so we made yellow cake (DON'T DROP THAT SHIT!) with milk chocolate frosting and maraschino cherries- our favorite combo. YUM!



And don't worry, we only had one piece each, and I followed mine with a short glass of skim milk.

Then I got on YouTube (looking up some wack-ass Texas rappers) and re-watched this short film that is saved in my favorites:



Little did I know that, after explaining the meaning of the film to N, she would fall victim to a fit of tears! My poor baby was so sad- it broke my heart... I never know with that one... when her great aunt died she was like "oh" and kept it moving. When I told her me and C were getting a divorce she was like "whatever" and could not wait to tell my mom.

But one three-minute clip about a creature that dies fulfilling its dream to fly and we have Niagara Falls? Strange...

So I had to go into cheer up mode, and came up with this:

Green Light - John Legend feat Andre 3000

This song is my new obsession and I cannot even contain myself whenever it comes on! Man, just leave me alone in a dance studio for like 3 hours and this song playing on repeat and I'll lose every pound of this excess weight right then and there!

*smooches...wishing you all cake, dream fulfillment and green lights all weekend*
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see y'all Monday with more shenanigans :D

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Told You I Had Some Bad Karma To Work Off

Sometimes it's hard to take the high road. I try to let things roll of my back and offer it up to Karma. Then I realize, Karma is the reason the fucked up shit is happening to me in the first place and I want to spit huge globs of green phlegm on the high road. But I know I can't, because that's exactly what Karma wants me to do.

A while back, a ran into an ex on the street- no big deal, really. We exchanged business cards and agreed to meet for coffee which he interpreted as "call Raquel at 3AM to see what she's up to" and all that. So it became a habit- I'm an insomniac, people know that, and most of my phone conversations take place after hours because that's when I'm awake.

Weeks pass and I put him out of my mind because he was an ex for a VERY GOOD REASON and I only entertained the whole coffee thing because I didn't want to seem childish. I run into him again on the same block and same thing: "We need to get together and talk over coffee..." and I'm like, "Yeah, call me, bye" whatever.

That same weekend we made tentative plans to hang out before we each went about with our own separate weekend plans but it fell through. Still, he called late at night and then I called him back, etc.

Mind you, the whole time we're just shooting the shit. There's no sex talk or anything inappropriate going on because frankly he was a total jerk in college and I was NEVER gonna forget what an asshole he was to me back then. We mostly asked about mutual people we knew from school and generic stuff.

The following Monday, I'm shopping in the Foodtown after work and I get a call from a number I don't recognize, which I usually don't answer, but I had sent out some query letters so I thought it might be an editor.

"Hi, this is XXX. Do you know someone by the name of [asshole ex-boyfriend]?"

I'm like, did this fool put me down as a reference on some kind of application?

"Who's asking?"
"His wife... is there any reason why you are calling my husband at 2 in the morning?"

CHILLLLLLLLLLD!!!! Talk about INFURIATED!!!!!

THIS MOTHERFUCKER, when we bumped into each other, asked me about C, and I mentioned we were divorced and had had another daughter after K. When I asked him what he was up to, he said he had a ten year old son that he sees often. No mention of wife at all, and I didn't ask because I didn't really care; I was just holding polite conversation.

CLEARLY he thought he had some sort of second chance with me... WTF?

You'd be so proud of me... I was very courteous to this poor woman because it was obvious to me she had made this call before, but I let her know in no uncertain terms that HER HUSBAND was an old acquaintance from college, nothing inappropriate had taken place, and that up until her phone call I did not know she existed. And then hung up.

Do you want to hear the punchline? Homegirl was 8 months pregnant at the time with his second child. And yes, she was the mother of the first child, too.

So this post has been in DRAFTS for a long, long time, and in earlier versions I put his full name and number out there because I was so MAD that I had to get that phone call AS IF I'm some cheap floozy who goes around doing shit like that (Okay maybe once but that was a LONG TIME AGO).

But then I accepted Karma's punishment for my past indiscretion and erased his information. This wife wasn't the one I wronged, but basically she was speaking for the one I did. I took her tongue lashing because I sort of deserved it and I knew it would make her feel better, gave my respectful two cents, and kept it moving.

And now I release this from my brain because I'm too through dwelling on it. He was an ass and a macho prick in college and clearly nothing has changed. I hope for her and her children's sake that everything works out for them.

But word of caution to my Asshole Ex-boyfriend: you'd better watch out, because CLEARLY, unlike myself, Karma never forgets to attend to EVERYONE on her To-Do list.

*smooches...hoping I never have to lay eyes on his sorry ass ever again*
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I know what it's like to be the wife wondering where her husband is and with whom, and it's NOT a good feeling. at all. he's such a freakin loser... ugh!

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Lani Says...

"George Michael is playing and I'm about to eat an oyster... life is perfect!"

*smooches...wondering why my friends are so crazy*
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meanwhile, the restaurant where we were when she said this is WACKALICIOUS... I think the hummus "plate"- which was just a smidgeon of hummus and like 2 small pitas- was almost $10... they must be buggin... I can get flavored hummus (mmmm...roasted red pepper hummus...) and a whole pack of pita bread for less than that.

PLUS I can eat it in my PJs, on my couch, while watching Heroes. Yeah, this restaurant sucks elephant toes.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

GIMME GIMME GIMME!

People- you missed a good one last night... actually you've missed a few good ones... so click on the Blog Talk Radio banner to the right and LISTEN, carajo!

Anywayz...

I'm writing this because I'm mad that JACK, who's been blogging all of six months, is already over there demanding presents for his birthday and shit. The NERVE! I've been blogging wayyyy longer and I've never asked for anything. I actually give things away, and he's over there demanding!

*mumbles*

Los cojones que tiene este maldito...

Well, that's it.

I want stuff, too. And I'm not waiting until my birthday to ask for it; I want them NOW NOW NOW!

I want a feather bed for my mattress
and a new bathroom scale
and a new rug for my living room, preferable 5'X7'
and a new rug for the bathroom
and a new set of Calphalon cookware WITH cooking utensils PLUS the Dutch oven
and a new set of square/oval dishes in black and white from Crate and Barrel, service for 4 will suffice
and new pillows
and a new trundle bed for the babies
and a memory upgrade for my computer PLUS a 22" flat panel LCD monitor
and a new digital camera, preferable 10 megapixels and 4X digital zoom (or more)
and Ani DiFranco's new CD, PLUS 2 tickets to her show next month at the Town Hall (and a date... male or female... must be an Ani fan, though)
and a new fall wardrobe consisting of 2 more pairs of doc martens (one black one red), some cotton turtlenecks, 2 more pairs of black slacks, two more pairs of grey slacks, another pair of brown slacks, a few pairs of khakis, three cardigans, a new Righteous Babe Records hoodie in black, black tights, two wool skirts and 10 cotton long-sleeve Oxford shirts from the Gap, in EVERY color

oh, and if it's not too much to ask,

John Cusack's direct number.

Thank you.

Love,
The Jaded NYer

*smooches...swinging my big-ass cojones all over this post*
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so get to gettin, people. I want my stuff POST HASTE! If you don't have the time to shop, I'll take cash...

Monday, October 13, 2008

The Universe Is Pissed At Me

First and foremost... you know what's going on tonight at 11 so stop acting like you don't know...

That's right... Monday Musings is on, and since Latino Heritage Month ends on Wednesday, I figured we'd discuss what makes us Latinos.



It should be fun, as Mari is making a return appearance (will she have notes and stats this time? I don't know... you'll have to tune in and listen) and the lovely Qucifer (will she curse a few people out? I can't say... you just have to see for yourself) will be joining the fold for a great discussion.

And I know it will be great because I'm great and they're great and please, you know you're gonna listen anyway so stop frontin' like you're not!

*************************

Now... back to the topic at hand.

The Universe. Pissed. At Me.

So remember how Friday I was over here talking shit about god and all that? Well clearly that did not go over so well with the heavens because I paid dearly for those wretched comments... in the form of making my entire body ache from working out all week.

Yeah... I'm back to the gym, taking it one class at a time and not really advertising it. Just doing it for me. Except I kinda have to talk about it because OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH!!!

It hurts to breath I'm so sore!

And don't even get me started on the DEBACLE that was my bike ride on Saturday... lets just say I'm really truly madly out of shape.

And as if to add salt to my wounds, the Universe tried to have me taken out by nature! As I sat by the pond reading, I heard some leaves crunching behind me... only to find a sneaky little squirrel trying to creep over to me. As soon as I looked it in the eye he- and the other two squirrels that I hadn't noticed that were also creeping in my direction- ran off.

Then they sent in the big guns- a raccoon. They didn't have to tell me twice. I got the fuck outta Dodge.

Okay, Universe, god, Zeus, whatever... I learned my lesson. Don't talk about you on my blog. Got it.

Now can you please untighten my shoulders so that I can sleep in peace? Please?

*smooches...thinking it may be time I gave massages another try*
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because this soreness is bullshit.

oh wait... lookee here... muscle relaxers... where did THESE come from...?

Friday, October 10, 2008

Beware Of Lightning On Your Way Out

I got one of those forwards from a friend a while back with commentary that included the idea that god is gone from this world because we asked him to leave.

(Oh yes, that's right- I'm going there... talking shit about religion...)

And this idea was used to describe why so many horrible things are happening today.

I much rather prefer this bit of dialogue spoken by Al Pacino's character in The Devil's Advocate:

"Let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch. He's a prankster. Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift, and then what does He do, I swear for His own amusement, his own private, cosmic gag reel, He sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time. Look but don't touch. Touch, but don't taste. Taste, don't swallow. Ahaha. And while you're jumpin' from one foot to the next, what is he doing? He's laughin' His sick, fuckin' ass off! He's a tight-ass! He's a SADIST! He's an absentee landlord! Worship that? NEVER!"

(some of your jaws might have just hit the ground. I tried to warn you... it's okay if you leave now without reading the rest of this post)

I propose to you, dear readers, commenters and lurkers, that the only difference between 2008 and the year 8 is how the media reports and spins the news. Ain't nothing new under the sun- crime, war, godlessness- all existed since forever... you just hear about it more now because we are plugged in 24/7.

YouTube alone broadcasts some of the craziest, godless crap I've ever seen!

So we didn't "ask god to leave." "He's" still here like "he's" always been watching over this crazy science experiment called life.

Now, I don't have a problem with god. I know y'all think I do but I don't. I was Catholic for roughly 20 years of my life; it's not something I can toss aside so easily even though I have left the Church, so I still know how to "act right" and whatnot.

HOWEVER...

I do have a problem with patriarchal religious doctrine and dogma, created for the clear purpose of controlling people, especially women. Catholicism is extremely sexist and homophobic and, contrary to what the Church preaches, judgemental and hateful.

(That's right- the Church be having mind control on y'all... I said it. And what?)

That quote from the movie describes none other than the god that the Church created to benefit its own agenda and presented to me over and over again from grades K through 8, and then later as a teacher of Saturday Catechism classes. And THAT, like Pacino's character, is someone I will not worship. Ever.

So, whatever, if "he's" gone then let "him" be gone. Maybe now we can get some shit done!

Talk to me about a loving god, and maybe I'll listen...

*smooches...hoping I don't meet the afterlife with egg on my face...*
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...although it's still not enough to get me to go to church... I'm sure the Christian god would prefer an actual believer than one who's there "just in case" there's a heaven...

Thursday, October 09, 2008

I Wish...

...I could churn out an awesome screenplay set in the south, so that I could use "Darkness in the Delta" by Cassandra Wilson in the opening credits.

...that Haagen Dazs, McDonald's, Dominos, Popeyes and Atomic Wings didn't taste so freakin good, because then I wouldn't be 20lbs overweight.

...I hadn't insisted on wearing heels all those years ago because I wanted to be 6ft tall; now my knees and back are paying for my vanity.

...my computer would stop holding me hostage every night with its promise of Netflix, YouTube and Blogger until my eyes bleed.

...I could fall ass-backwards into a lot of money so that I can spend the rest of my days sitting in the bay window of my Park Slope brownstone reading books and eating mangos.

...that the Beatles hadn't already written the song "Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey" because that was the working title of my autobiography.

...I wasn't so afraid of fame; hell, if an idiot like Paris Hilton can do it...

...my hair would comb itself.

...I had powers, like Prue on "Charmed" or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Or like Peter Petrelli.

...this presidential election was over already, because the suspense is killing me!

...I had enough hours in the day to volunteer at the NY Foundling Hospital; the thought of babies in need of hugs makes me sad.

...everything I wrote turned to gold; then my nom de plume could be Midas!

...I could burn calories from typing; I'd be the fittest creature on the planet...

...money would stop burning holes in my pockets.

...I could have been a student at the old Degrassi; I totally would have dated Luke (Andy Chambers) and been best friends with Lucy (Anais Granofsky).

...my brain would just balance itself out already... I'm tired of waking up with that knife in my hand...

...I had been nicer to and more appreciative of Grandma when she was alive.

...everyone I knew had Verizon so that my phone bill wouldn't be so high.

...I didn't even have a cell phone, so that I could go ghost good and proper, and reappear when I was good and ready.

...Axl & Slash would mend their friendship so that Guns N Roses could get back together and rock out like only they can.

...this blog didn't own my soul.

*smooches...wondering which one of these wishes I wish I had more*
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maybe the super powers... yeah, the super powers would be awesome...

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Applying To A NYC High School Is A Full Time Job

Whether I like it or not, this year K, my ex and I have to dive head first into the mashugana NYC High School application process as if we have nothing else to do all day.

Some of you out-of-towners might not understand what I'm going through over here because chances are there are like three high schools in your hometown, and depending on where you live that's where you go to school.

Well, not in NYC. Here you have the option of attending ANY school regardless of location, and in order to attend the school of your choice you might have to audition (for performing arts schools) or take a test (for specialized & catholic & prep schools) or have an interview (for screened programs). And then you have to have the grades and test scores and go to open houses and OMG! I think I just burst a blood vessel near my temple...

It all starts in 7th grade- your marks from that year will determine where you can get in. That's the year you also get the NYC High Schools Directory- 584 pages of information on everything you could ever want to know about every-freakin-school within City limits. It's the size of the Staten Island yellow pages, for real.

So you have to go through this book and look at the schools you like and determine if, from the school's POV, you'd be a good candidate. THEN you have to attend these HS fairs and speak with reps from all the schools. THEN you have to schedule an interview and attend the school's open house and guided tour.

THEN, depending on whether you're going to Mt. St. Ursula or LaGuardia (the "Fame" school) you need to take entrance exams or put together a portfolio.

THEN you list the schools you want in order of preference- up to 12 of them- hand in this application to your 8th grade guidance counselor, and sometime in the spring you will know where you were accepted.

Sounds oddly familiar to something *I* had to do, too... AS A SENIOR IN HIGH SCHOOL APPLYING TO COLLEGE!

I mean, am I remembering it wrong, because I did not have to go through all this crap. All you other NYers out there correct me if I'm wrong, but it was pretty much one test for specialized HS, one test for Catholic schools, and an audition if you wanted LaGuardia. For everyone else, you just went to your zone school.

Why does it have to be all complicated when it's MY daughter's turn to go?

I tell you what, this application BS is for the birds... when it comes time to apply for college, I'm gonna just let her father handle it... (yeah, right... he can't be trusted to make such an important decision like that w/out me!)

*smooches...wondering why I can't just have a peaceful, quiet existence*
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what did I do in my past lives to deserve this much chaos???

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Together We Tend To Be An Estrogen-Laced Hot Mess

This weekend we all went out to eat to this yummilicious Colombian restaurant off of Woodhaven Blvd. Me, mami, the babies and Mari.

First let me tell you that when the five of us get together we eat like it's the end of the world. I have no idea why, but it seriously becomes a game of "I Can Eat More Than You" with no one as the winner, except maybe the bathroom scale.

Second, whenever we're all together, we also start in with the silliness and inappropriateness that then leads to infectious giggles that cannot be quelled no matter what. I don't know if it's a product of being Latinas or growing up in a naked house or what, but the stuff we say to each other...

Like when K mentioned she doesn't like to wear pink because it's girlie, and mami told her that she is a girl and that she can verify this by checking her toto, which is Dominican slang for vagina...

Or crazy nonsensical utterings like when Mari said, in the middle of our Bingefest '08 when someone mentioned that perhaps we should stop eating: "It's not over until your belly pops."

Or cricket inducing word vomits, like when N took a whiff of mami's cafecito and said: "Mmmm I love smelling this because it smells like coffee." *sigh*

Or complete Dominican buffoonery at its best, like when mami AGAIN referenced un toto, and then was embarrassed because she remembered that we were in a Colombian restaurant and someone might have heard her. But then when she stated that perhaps they use a different slang word for vagina, Mari comes with: "Yeah, but I feel like the fat guy at the counter knows what it means... I don't like the way he's smiling..."

I absolutely lost it at that point... there was no recovering after "the fat guy at the counter" comment...

*smooches...realizing that perhaps you just had to be there to get it"
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and did I mention that the paella that Mari and I ordered was big enough to feed a small Peruvian village? Yeah, I'm STILL eating the leftovers...

Monday, October 06, 2008

Allergies Are Trying To Kill Me...And Other Musings

Ya Girl Still Got It
I hit up some lounge on the LES w/Mari this weekend, just to chill and whatevers, only to have one of her little friends make a pass at moi.

Luckily Mari was there with the interception/block, because she knows I'm too through changing diapers! The last thing I need is some handsome, chocolaty, 24 year old Cornell graduate in his physical and sexual prime with no real respon.... hmmm... maybe I need to rethink my position on younger men...

But a quick observation from the evening? Some really, really pretty girls are dating some really, really average-to-ugly-looking dudes. What's up with that? Are cute men not nice or something? It's such a strange phenomena.

Allergies Are Trying To Kill Me...
...but I will not be defeated!

True my face and eyes are itchy as hell and my nose is completely useless at this point, but I will not be defeated.

And never mind that I'm sooooooooo groggy that I can barely walk... I don't care.

I will not stay in bed. I will not let the allergies win. When I get home I will make dinner, I will wash Ns hair and I will shred some more of the 300lbs of junk mail sitting on my table.

NEVER GIVE UP. NEVER SURRENDER!!!

The Show Must Go On
With that said, Monday Musings will go on as planned. 11PM. If you can, give us a listen... this week we're talking Hip Hop and its origins with J from The Liberators of Hip Hop.



I'd love for listeners to call in tonight and tell us their earliest memories of Hip Hop music, you know, back when it was good... oops! Did that sound biased?? Pshhhh, like I care... "Back in MY day..."

Me And Google Are About To Have Problems
Can my ex's PUH-LEESE stop googling me??? I had yet ANOTHER blast from the past come out of the woodwork and hit me up on MySpace. So far it's nothing; let's hope it stays that way.

And it's not just any ex. It's THE ex. The one that shattered my confidence for all eternity by breaking up with me. ME! Yes, hard as it may be to believe, HE dumped ME, and now he's all like:

"guess who stopped by to say hello. I used to be ur bellisimo. lol"

My bellisimo? Really? That's what you came with? Whatever, negro... and just because you still look good don't mean shit. I mean, I was courteous in my response because my mami raised me right, and because I'm not gonna assume his intentions are anything more than just saying "hi" but I'm annoyed. Mostly because I'm not feeling well, but still annoyed.

It's shit like this that sometimes makes me think I might have to leave Brooklyn for a little bit... too many people I know be out here, finding me and shit...damn computers!

*smooches...wishing that I wasn't so G.D. unforgettable*
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in other news, I've started watching Season 4 of The Office and all I have to say is NO Dwight DIDN'T!!! Poor Sprinkles...

Friday, October 03, 2008

OMG- I Watched The VP Debate!

And wouldn't you know it- it was a hot ghetto waste of time...

Dear Joe "Joe Cool" Biden:

You should have been much better prepared to answer the question as to WHY you are running as VP when earlier you were quoted as saying you NEVER would. Unpreparedness is not an option.

Also, you kept falling into the whole "back in my home town of West Butt Fuck, USA" pit, and it was not cute. It was almost like you were playing a game of "Who's more Blue Collar" instead of "Who Wants To Be Vice President."

Finally, you might want to control your temper... I saw/heard you sigh vehemently at least twice, almost like you wanted to bitch slap Palin. Not a good look, honey.



Dear Sarah "I Can See Russia From My House" Palin:

Sweetie Honey Girl... this was not a contest for how many buzzwords you can fit into an hour and a half, babycakes, Okie Dokie?

And gosh darn it, when you're asked a question about taxes, don't answer it with your position on the environment. Focus, Sarah, FOCUS!

And JESUS MARY & JOSEPH... did you really just use the term "straight up" and give "shout outs" like Uncle Ralph was interviewing you on Video Music Box? WORD? I was waiting for you to get into B-Boy stance...



All in all I was very disappointed with both of these fools, I'm still an undecided voter and am appalled that these are the only two VP candidates we get to hear from. What about Darrell Castle? Or Wayne Root? How about Rosa Clemente? Don't know who they are or where they stand? ME NEITHER, because all you hear all the live long day is Obama this and McCain that... blah blah blah Biden, wah wah wah Palin... give me a freakin break!

And just for the record- I'm pissed that neither side supports gay marriage and that both think that the solution the the oil crisis is to drill... they're all shady haters!

This voting shit is for the birds...

*smooches...nursing a wicked case of TOO THROUGH*
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I would have much rather watched the movies I rented from the library...

Thursday, October 02, 2008

***REMINDER***

Hey NYC Bloggers:

Are we meeting up at Bembe or what? I've heard from a couple of people but I don't want to leave anyone out...

Details....

WHEN: Saturday, October 4th, 12AM
WHERE: Bembe, on N6th and Berry in Williamsburg, BK
RSVP: rpenzo@thejadednyer.net

Email me with any questions/comments, etc, because I'm closing comments.

*smooches...so ready to sweat out my 'do*
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but warning: I may not be partaking of too many libations... I'm trying to cut back :D

and in case you missed it, check out my love letter to baseball below...

It's A Carefully Choreographed Ballet

The Mets are not in the playoffs.

There, I just had to admit that piece so that I can begin to heal.

At first I was going to boycott the MLB postseason in protest of having to say, yet again, "next year..." but alas... my love of baseball... it's in my bones. I was raised on it. When I go home to DR my uncles say things like, "We grow ball players here like platanos" and he's not even playing. It may be the all-American sport but trust me, it's spread...

My love of baseball has nothing to do with the home team or the stats or even the players that make me swoon.

It's the stolen bases, the double plays, the grand slam home runs, the outfielder diving to catch the not-so-easy out, and then playing the rest of the game with a stained uniform- a badge of honor that stain, a reminder of his heroic feat.

It's the crowd booing the umpire, it's the coach getting kicked out of the game, it's the empty-dug-out fights on the pitcher's mound.

Shut out games, no-hitters, extra innings, 3 men on 2 outs and 2 strikes in the bottom of the ninth... you hold your breath, and the man at bat knows it feels it and the fate of his team rests........on..........this..........next........pitch

The crowd follows the ball... will the outfielder catch it or will he let it fall? will it leave the park or bounce off the wall? fans keep watch with hearts stuck in their throats...

It's watching the older guys pull miracles out of aching body, and the young'uns making themselves known

It's the peanuts & crackerjack & hot dogs and beer

It's the 7th inning stretch

It's wearing your favorite player's jersey proudly on your way to the game, and for me and mine...

...it's being able to pass down your love for the game to the next generation.

I love you baseball, whether my team wins or not.

*smooches...resigned to the fact that I will be watching the World Series this year*
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I was a fool to think otherwise...

and PS- I may have to stop seeing my shrink... this is two days in a row that I'm over here telling you how much I "love" something... WTF? you'd think I was getting laid or something...

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

What It's Like To Live In NYC

I've known people who've said, "NYC is nice but I could never live there."

To those people I say, "There is no better place to live."



And before you non-NYers come at me with your "Albuquerque is the BIZNIZ" or "Nothing beats Salt Lake City in the summertime," and you disillusioned NYers start up with the "It's so different now" and "I can't afford it here anymore," please remember that it will all fall on deaf ears.



Because New York City is the shit- I know it, you know it, I know you know it and you know that I know you know it. So stop frontin' and hatin' and sit back and enjoy my New York.



Living here, especially as someone who was born and raised here, is like always being on the VIP list to the newest, hottest club.

The food and drink is flowing, the DJ is always playing my favorite song, and all the dudes are 6'2", chocolaty, buff Adonises who want nothing more than to dance with me all night.



New York is my oasis in the midst of chaos
the sirens are my lullaby, and
the ever-changing landscape a silent film outside my window




New York allows me to be international without leaving the five boroughs: You want authentic Italian food? That's what Little Italy is for. Longing for Russian conversation? Visit the pockets of Russian neighborhoods in Brooklyn. Can't find the herbs and roots you need to make the remedios your mami used to make? Yes you can- right in Corona, Queens!

Sometimes the best part of living here is going away for little bit and then coming back, seeing New York through the eyes of a tourist as if for the first time, taking the train one extra stop and walking back, discovering a quaint little block you didn't even know existed.



Of course, there is a flip side... sometimes living here feels like one is the tenant of a slumlord who litters, plays his music too loud, cares little for the human condition and would stab his mother in the throat for $1.00. And that part certainly sucks big donkey dick.

And it's sometimes a very lonely place. One can really get lost in the crowd here- good sometimes but bad most days. The only way to shine sometimes is to act a straight fool.



But these "cons" just add to the charm and appeal of the city- the good, the bad and the hot ghetto mess.

Walking through the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.

West 4th Street on a hot and muggy garbage day in August

The Lord & Taylor windows and Christmastime.




The homeless guy taking a shit in your subway car.

Your favorite pizza place in Bay Ridge.

The police tape wrapped around the building next door.


It's all a part of this great city that I adore so much.



I love that I know (or can easily find out) how to get anywhere from anywhere without a car- just my two feet and a loaded MetroCard is all I ever need.

But the absolute best part? Even at 4AM the subway is full of the proverbial "melting pot" of people- the college kids back from a bender, the older couple who just left a dinner party, the busboys and barbacks getting off the late shift, and me- we're all tired, we're all trying to get home, and we're all happy to have a seat on the subway in the greatest city in the world.



*smooches...hoping I never ever really leave for good*
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I know I have a love/hate relationship with this place, and sometimes I want to run screaming from here and live out my days on some remote island in the South Pacific, but who am I kidding? This is my home, for better or worse!

now tell me- what do you love about NY???