This weekend's plans to lay low and get some writing done failed miserably. And taxes? What stinkin' taxes? Those bitches remain unfiled. And that chicken I was going to roast on Saturday? Yeah... about that... sit back 'cause it's gonna be a loooong story...
UPDATE: Tonight's Monday Musings segment is on the relevance of organized religion in this modern society.
In a time when jobs are scarce and wars still rock the headlines, are we fooling ourselves by turning to the church for answers? Or is it foolish not to?
Tune in tonight and voice your opinions; this heathen wants to hear from you!!
Same time 10PM
Same place www.blogtalkradio.com/thejadednyer
Brush With Death?
Saturday was supposed to be all about checking some of my writing projects off of my to-do list. I had planned on visiting a friend to watch the DR vs. The Netherlands baseball game armed with Tostitos, salsa and my laptop. I was going to munch, write and curse at Big Papi on the TV.
HOWEVER, I woke up feeling dizzy, short of breath and weak. I made light of it on Twitter but it was actually scary enough that I had to sit and talk to myself in order to remain calm. It was like a combination of anxiety attack and vertigo mixed with dehydration.
So I drank lots of water, forced myself to eat something and just sat on the couch for most of the morning until the game came on. It seemed to work but I didn't want to risk leaving my apartment and getting sick in the street, settling in to watch the game online instead. And let me tell you about the goddamn game...
The Netherlands Cheated. HMPH!
It was supposed to be a throwaway game, an easy win: The Dominican power-houses against the wee lads of The Netherlands. I mean, who knew The Netherlands played baseball, right?
Then the players took the field and I was like WHAT THE FUCK??? These dudes are black as night... THEY ARE NOT DUTCH!
Come to find 90% of the team is loaded with players from Curacao and Aruba n shit... these motherfuckers were Caribbean, for chrissake, NOT Dutch! They're bred on platanos and seafood and shit just like the Cubanos, Puerto Ricans and my DR brethren, so it was not an easy game to win at all.
And I guess you can tell from my sour grapes that they beat us, 3-2...
I Was Only Supposed To Go To First Saturdays...
So how did I end up at O'Neil's, again, until after 4 in the morning with ShellyShell and her cousin?
And before that we were at the Soda Bar in the Slope, and I'd forgotten how good the weekend DJ is at that place! Or maybe I'd blocked it out because I used to go there with The Haitian and ugh... who wants to remember that shit?
(and speaking of his wackness... he DJs at this place right across from Soda called Plan B. Remind me never to step foot in there)
Anyways, we danced so much at Soda that 1- I sweat my hair out; Farrita Fawcettnandez is no more (Twitter folks know what I mean) and instead I'm rocking a more tamed & relaxed wavy 'do. And 2- my legs were in so much pain on Sunday that I could not find a comfortable position to sit, lay or stand in. WTF? I seriously considered amputating my own leg...
I'm Old Y'all
So I'm limping around my apartment all day Sunday, wanting to do some kind of chores n shit but in enough pain that I keep having to sit every few minutes. And the thought of having to thoroughly season an entire roasting chicken with veggies, plus finally try my hand at homemade gravy, seemed like the chore to end all chores. Especially because I needed to buy a few things from the grocery store. Which is like 5 blocks away. TOO FAR away for my bum leg. And that's what happened to the chicken; it's still in the fridge.
I had pasta instead. Which gave me a serious case of the itis. Which gave me a wicked dream...
Dream A Little Dream...
While watching DR redeem itself in the game versus Panama (we won 9-0, btw), I fell asleep on the couch but not really 'cause I could still hear the game. But then I couldn't, and instead I was outside with N and she was playing in this deep ass mud puddle. She even submerged herself in it. Then she started choking 'cause she had all this mud caked up in her nose and mouth.
I put my finger in the mouth to try and force her to vomit or cough so she could breathe but she was turning all kinds of colors and her eyes were bulging and tears were coming out of her eyes and she was making the most horrible sound ever and I was freaking the fuck out. I pulled out my phone to call 911 but was overcome with this feeling that they weren't going to make it in time. And then I couldn't breathe and it was Saturday morning all over again. *I* was fucking choking!
I totally had to force myself awake and I took the deepest breath known to man, and you know what? You know that horrible noise N was making in my dream? Fucking Dominican fans blowing a fucking air horn in the stands during the game. Reason #3,276 why you shouldn't fall asleep with the TV on.
Needless to say, I let my baby sleep with me when C brought them home. Just in case... and ended up having another bad dream that I don't even want to get into right now...
*smooches...not happy with these horrid vivid dreams I've been having*
what the hell is going on in my subconscious mind? is this old age and dementia manifesting itself in my 30s? GODDAMN... can a girl get a break?!?!