Insurance Won't Cover What I Need: A Healthy Jaded Post

Normally these updates deal with my fitness journey, include a photo of my ever-expanding jelly-belly and list whatever Challenge Of The Week I'm involved in to get a better body. Today, however, I'm discussing my journey to get right on the inside.

So we already know my uterus and surrounding lady parts are acting a fool (you can read about that here); it's annoying and sad and annoying. Yes, annoying TWICE. What's worse is that the alternative treatments I want and need (you know, as opposed to letting some butcher get all up in my nether parts and remove perfectly good organs) is not covered by insurance. Namely, the services of a naturopathic doctor.

In case you're not hip to the latest in new-agey lingo, the American Association of Naturopathic Physicians defines their beliefs and members as such:

"Naturopathic medicine is based on the belief that the human body has an innate healing ability. Naturopathic doctors (NDs) teach their patients to use diet, exercise, lifestyle changes and cutting edge natural therapies to enhance their bodies’ ability to ward off and combat disease."

This is right up my alley.

But when I finally found an ND that I thought would be perfect (given reviews, etc), I find out that she, and other NDs in New York, are not covered by medical insurance. BY LAW. Because they aren't allowed a medical license. What the fuck, Cuomo?? Why not?!?! (Click HERE to sign a petition to change all this.)

It was a setback I wasn't prepared for. I had to cancel the appointment I made because it was just too costly and sought out a highly-praised MD in Chinatown that boasts the use of "holistic treatments" for patients. Thankfully, after I found this magical Chinese doctor, the ND wrote me back and offered me a lower fee on a sliding scale. HOT DIGGITY DOG!! Clearly, there are still amazing and generous people in this world. This ND knows nothing about me except that some evil OB/GYN is threatening my uterus and she wants to help.

So now I have an appointment with the ND and then next month I see the MD. All three of us will come up with a comprehensive solution to this annoying (times three!) problem of mine...and then in ten years I can start enjoy (NOT) menopause in peace!

*smooches...learning more about red tape than I ever wanted to*
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thank goodness the issue isn't more serious...damn HMO!

¡Viva La Jaded Revolución!

Two years ago I agreed to a new contract with my boss at the PR firm which would allow me to freelance for him and his clients as opposed to being a salaried employee chained to a desk all day. At the time I was severely unhappy at this job and welcomed the opportunity to not have to deal with these people face to face anymore. YES, working from home in my pajamas for [insert hourly rate], Alex!

Immediately after I also signed on for two other paying freelance gigs and figured it was time to do the unthinkable: buy a smartphone. You all remember Phillip (may he rest in peace), yes? Yeah, he was cool, as was his replacement, Esteban, until they weren't.

So I crunched the numbers, analyzed the pros and cons and finally had to make some hard decisions to improve my bottom line. Esteban had to be laid off.

As of Monday, October 10, I will cancel my fourth phone line, shut down my Blackberry smartphone and begin to enjoy life without having the entire internet stuck at my hip 24 hours a day.



Sure I'll miss its convenience and all, but the truth is, I'm not faring too well in this era of extreme accessibility. I like being able to escape, stay under the radar, fall into the background. All of this is hard to do when the whole world has access to you and vice versa.

First of all, the freelance gigs dried up and I found myself using the phone more for fun than for work. Sudoku and Brick Breaker kept me company on long commutes. I became obsessed with checking emails every waking minute. And don't even get me started on how much stuff I missed because I was mobile tweeting or BBMing more than I was living or working!

Then my phone bills started to come in and I almost died of a heart attack. With FOUR phone lines my monthly statements were nearly $230- completely unacceptable for someone who's living paycheck-to-paycheck like me.

And finally, the damn thing proved to be pretty crappy, volatile and prone to bugs and breakage at an alarming rate. I can't even tell you how many times I've had to pull the battery out and reboot the damn phone. I mean, is it too much to ask that a machine that costs me almost $50 a month in fees WORK when I need it to WORK?

In 2006, I decided to not get a television for my new apartment. In 2011, I've decided to not have a smartphone. Some may see this as moving backwards; I see it as taking back my life. When the Robot Invasion takes place, you'll all wish you'd followed my lead...

*smooches...wondering how long before I toss out my computer*
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SIKE! as much as I hate to admit it I actually NEED a computer. BOOOOO!

I'm Worth More Than That

This crappy economy has taught me a valuable lesson in self-worth. It shed some light on something Mami tried to explain to me when I started freelancing, but didn’t notice until I was really starving for funds: Employers really don’t think much of writers. And you can really see evidence of that in the various writing mills around the internet.

Currently, regardless of what people are willing to pay, I am worth a pretty penny on an hourly basis. I mean, not as much as a hooker (those bitches make sooooo much more than I do...got me rethinking my life choices n shit) but still, a good lot o’ dough. These writing mills (Demand Media Studios [although Demand now offers SOME per-hour writing opportunities], Suite101, etc) claim to offer writers great opportunities but if you ask me it’s somewhat of a legal scam.

In my experience the jobs up for grabs on those sites, at most, pay you about $25 per article. Total. At first you think, “Ooh, I can knock out four articles this week and make a cool $100!” Then you realize, had you really itemized the expenses you incurred for writing said article, you end up losing. Besides, I made way more than $100 PER ARTICLE freelancing for Batanga Magazine and PCI Journal. Even working in The Basement paid $100/day, and that was one shitty ass job. How can I afford to take such a huge pay cut?

Even the best writers need at least 3-5 hours to produce a good article. This includes research, fact-checking, interviewing, writing and editing. For argument's sake let’s say you can create a really good piece in five hours...what have you to show for those five hours of your talented time, wear-and-tear on your computer, electricity, internet service, time away from other opportunities or family and friends, maybe even ink and paper if you’re the type that can’t read off of a screen for too long? $25 lousy dollars. That breaks down to $5/hour— LESS than you’d earn in five hours at McDonald’s. WRITING MILLS ARE PAYING YOU LESS THAN MCDONALD’S! If this was Gone-With-The-Wind, Georgia, sure, take the $5 and run. But my name ain't Mammy. You're gonna have to pay me a real, 2010-2011 living wage.

Sure, there’s the argument that some money is better than no money, and in this crippling economic climate we have to take what we can get, but that’s what writing mills are counting on. They hope and pray and KNOW that a lot of us are broke, in debt, young, stupid, starving artists, and are exploiting us. They are telling us we’re worth less than $5/hour. “Fuck your degree, your experience, your connections. Take these seven pennies and get the fuck outta here!” I don’t take too kindly to that kind of disregard for my hard work.

Hookers know what their vaginae and mouths are worth, especially for bareback encounters. Why should us writers settle for less?

*smooches...refusing to compromise*
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you let ONE writing mill walk all over you, next thing you know you're working around the clock, producing all this collateral for them and you're still broke. Fuck that!

I Pee'd In The Street!...And Other Musings

My weekend was filled with ups and downs. Luckily more ups. Ready? Let's go!

Stop Spending So Much Goddamn Money!
Tonight on Monday Musings I'm doing my second Blogger Profile of the year, and this time around we've got Natalie McNeal aka The Frugalista on the show! And if you don't know who she is CLEARLY you're the kind of person that shops without caring if you're getting your money's worth.


Expect to hear about the birth of The Frugalista as well as some awesome tips on how to save hundreds on groceries, vacations and the clothes you just have to have. And if you've got questions or tips of your own, don't be shy! We'd love to hear from you.

So tune in... you know yo want to!

Another Ex, A New Letter
This week on "Letters I'll Never Send" our Friend From Across The Pond, Bangs and a Bun, has a few choice words for an ex.

We all have that one ex we need to write that letter to, and I loved how Muireann got it all out on "paper" to share with us. Head on over and take a peek. And remember, you, too, can have your letter posted. Email me at rpenzo@thejadednyer.net to find out how.

I Pee'd In The Street!
Let's just file this little tale under Things That Will Upset Jaded's Mother.

I had some drinks. Not a lot but some. I wasn't drunk but my bladder was full. The bathroom at this establishment was, well, let's just say I was willing to just hold it til I got home. Until I wasn't. It was right there; I could feel the droplets itching to come out. We tried pulling into a gas station but they were closed. Then my friend utters the fateful words: "Just go behind that truck."

*record scratches*

EXCUSE ME?! That's NOT how I was raised...except...I...I just couldn't hold it. So, for the first time ever... I pee'd in the street. Behind a U-Haul van that was parked at the Mobile station. Mami forgive me!!

Why You All Frontin' Like You Know 'Em?
Here's my latest contribution to the Blogging Etiquette lessons The F$%k-It List and Smarty Jones have been giving you for the last couple of months, and it has to do with some of y'all out there who stay fakin' the funk. And by that I mean the people who are giving props left and write to other bloggers...that they don't even read!

Lookie here- anytime I link to someone on this site, you best believe I'm over there on the regular. I'd never sully my good name by associating with someone with whom I'm not even familiar, just to seem cooler somehow. That type of behavior gets THE GAS FACE for real.


Despite what some say or do, blogging is not a popularity contest. Just be you. Don't act like you're down to get comments or readers. BOOOOO to you if you've done it. If I ever catch you doing that shit again? Machete time...

*smooches...threatening your life because I care*
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I call it: Jaded's Tough Love.

"Drove The Chevy To The Levy But The Levy Was Dry"

My misery is definitely not the type that likes company. If I'm feeling like shit and then the person next to me feels like shit I immediately try my hardest to help them see the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

So it does NOT comfort me to know that I'm the only one about to have serious money trouble because employers cannot make payroll. THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA IS FREAKIN BROKE, y'all. I cannot even fathom that. Remember when getting a government job meant instant job security? No one ever figured the government would just up and go broke. Pension funds underfunded; cut-backs, lay-offs, furloughs... paying bills with IOUs... WHAT. THE. FUCK?

And it's not just Cali; there are like 10(?) other states that started the fiscal year without a budget. Really, Connecticut? Indiana? Really? Where is all your money???

I mean, can I pay Verizon with an IOU, too? How do you think Cablevision would handle it if I said, "Nah, homie, not this month, but I got you in October, for real."

This is such a sad and scary time to be an American IN America. And I can't even pack up and move anywhere because a lot of OUR money helped other places thrive. So if WE'RE broke, THEY'RE broke.

Alls I know is, it's RENT WEEK and I have to hand over a big-ass check to my landlord, and then I have to give Verizon another big ass check, and then I have to plan a birthday for N and take K to see Wicked and feed them and get them ready for school, on a salary that was already measly BEFORE my hours got cut.

I was sitting here all "woe is me" until I realized SHIT- "woe is us!!" And it didn't make me feel better, not by a long shot, but it made me scared. Then mad. Then determined not to lose my apartment or my internet service or my phone. I may have to set aside my pride (don't scoff if you see me at the market using a Benefits card... fuck all you hos 'cause my babies have to eat) but I cannot let this beat me.

And I will NOT allow it to beat you, either. For all it's faults, this is not how or why this country was founded, so let's take a page from the early settlers and help each other out, mmkay?

If you live near a bunch of your friends, buy groceries together and take turns hosting dinner. Carpool. Have a clothing exchange. If you have a special skill, share it with one another for free (i.e. I'm pretty good w/hair as long as you don't need anything to specific or complicated done. Can't afford the salon? Come over here w/your products and tools and I'll do your hair. I hate household chores... I'll trade you a hairdo for a clean kitchen or bathroom!)

Whatever it takes (within the law, of course!) do not let this beat us.

This is America, dammit. That's not how we roll!



*smooches...filling out retail job applications like a teenager*
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nobody wants to pay writers a fair wage? fine. fuck y'all. I'll just do something else. I still know how to say, "Do you want fries with that?"

Because I'm Having Issues With My Taxes...

...I hadn't planned on blogging today or tomorrow. I did spew some venom last night with a bunch of negativity and hatred and ugliness, but at the last minute I didn't want to publish it.

Why burden you with that shit? You have your own problems, and it's not fair to you. I never want you to come over here and be stressed out.

So instead I'll share with you this great wellness article I received from the Omega Institute on ways to detox.

Ten Detox Tips

Don't you just love how on my darkest, stankest day of '09 so far I get this email from Omega? It's like the Universe KNEW I needed some advice on how to get rid of the nasties that reside in my mind, body and soul so that I can go on with my life and get shit done.

I hope you find it as informative and helpful as I did.

*smooches...hoping that this will be my worst day for the entire year*
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that way it's over and done with and I can enjoy the next 11 months in peace and harmony.

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...

As Long As My $9.43 Is Okay...

**Last night's show went well.. I'm starting to conquer my nerves a little more, and I had fun! And thank you 12Kyle for being a great co-host!

I know I said I'd do an "After The Show" post every Tuesday, but I just found out that the Blog Talk Radio site has an option to post a blog... so now every Tuesday you can leave comments on the previous night's show over there.

Here's today's link:Monday Musings After The Show

And if you missed the show because you're 100 years old and you went to sleep early, here's that link: Monday Musings- Sports in the News

Now back to our program, already in progress...

******************
Can someone please explain to me why people are losing their fucking minds over the House not passing that bailout BS?

And what does it mean for the Dow to "plummet" by 700 points? Because it sounds kinda bad.

And wait- so what does that mean for my TIAA-CREF money? Oh hell nawl- are they messing with my TIAA-CREF? I *KNEW* I should have emptied that bitch out when I left The Waco School for Girls... UGH!!!

But seriously, the happenings on Wall Street are not my area of expertise at all. In fact, it's like a whole other language to me, one that I'm not sure I'll ever truly grasp. I don't have any investments anywhere, and not too long ago ING closed my savings account due to inactivity (the bastards!)- so it's just me and my checking account and my debit card.

So what is all the broo-haha about?

And why are McCain and Obama tryna act like they actually have the power to turn this mess around?? Even *I* know that the president has no say on economic shit; look at Bush's face next time he's talking about these bailouts, and tell me if it doesn't look like he's thinking "I hope the American public can't tell I have no power over this situation..."... that mess is a cycle: sometimes it's up, sometimes it's down... like the tides or my moods.

McCain and Obama need to stop lying to the people as if they can do away with these troubles by simply being sworn in. And Bush... man, he just needs to just GO SOMEWHERE already... TSK TSK... shame on all of you!

And while we're on it, if Bush wants to just GIVE AWAY $700 billion dollars, he can send the check to Raquel I. Penzo, or direct deposit it into my account at BOA... I'm sure he knows the account number... spying bastard...

*smooches...wondering if this is only be a rich folk problem*
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but I figured I'd ask just in case I need to get into "survival mode" and hoard food and supplies like Grandma used to...

Grace Under Pressure

• I feel like it's my last days at this job. Just a feeling deep in my bones. Not that I can afford to be unemployed right now but I can smell something afoul in the air.
  
  
• My ex is bringing his girlfriend to N's birthday party on Sunday. It doesn't really bother me except now I have to be all polite and graceful n shit. Now I have to actually comb my hair and press my clothes. Dammit!
  
  
• Sallie Mae is hella pissed at me. She keeps sending me angry letters. But what can I do? Contrary to popular belief, there is no money tree in my backyard. She needs to settle for what I can manage or kick rocks!



• My apartment looks WORSE than a bachelor pad. I can honestly say that this is the absolute rock bottom of disgusting messiness and filth. But every night I come home and just PLOP on the couch and do nothing.



• My TO DO list resembles a scroll that can extend from Brooklyn to Cleveland and I can't, for the life of me, clone myself fast enough to get it all done. And the two clones I did manage to make last week absconded with my savings and went to the Cayman Islands. Rat bastards...

It's all I can do to not curl up into a little ball and cry inconsolably. But of course, it's not on my TO DO list so I can't even think about falling apart.

HOWEVER... I truly do surround myself with the best people... just when I'm ready to give in to the stress and the tears and the binge eating, J sends me the Leela James CD I asked him to send me a few weeks ago.

Like, how did he know I needed that shit RIGHT THIS MINUTE?

Leela James - A Change Is Gonna Come


*smooches...hanging by a thread, though you'd never know it unless I told you so*
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I'm not certain how much longer I'll be able to "SMILE AND NOD" my way through life. I'd hate to be the person sitting next to me on the F-Train when I finally snap...

When We Last Saw The Jaded NYer...

...she was still recovering from her 2-week-long birthday celebration, a stress headache born from blog drama and a TO DO list that stretched across 5 states... so she played some Luda on repeat to help her relax (because nothing is more relaxing than misogynistic rap music urging me to shake my ass and work the pole):



She also took the babies out on day trips, melted in the early June heat wave, went to a Showtime event where she saw the premiere of "Weeds" (AWESOME!) and "Diary of a Call Girl" (STUPID and BORING), saw Iron Man and FELL IN LOVE with Robert Downy, Jr., gained like 10 pounds, and took many a random photo of her beloved NYC.

Then She Decided NOT To Go To Africa, For Real
I weighed the pros and cons, and I have too much I need to accomplish this year, so there was no room for Ghana right now, even with the offer of free tuition. I will apply again next year and see what happens. If it's meant to be, The Universe will allow it.

So thank you Jeff for the opportunity, but it was not in the cards for me right now.

Next, She Began Meditating Some
During the second week of my blog-hiatus I dove into meditation again. I felt this "ickiness" trying to glom onto my spirit and was like, "Nuh-uh, bitch, you ain't gonna catch me out there like Bobo the Fool!" This required a lot of discipline on my part, which is a struggle onto itself because y'all know I have bratty tendencies...

...and it led me to close one of my email addresses. One I've been holding onto because it had ties to this other "self" that I wasn't ready to let go of. But I let her go; don't want to be her anymore. She was mean and hella crazy. And a lil immoral. Yahoo is giving me a helluva time to delete it, but by the week's end, that ish will be a distant memory that Jack and I will sit around and laugh about...

That right there... weight. lifted. off. shoulders.

*exhales*

Shortly After, She Cancelled Her Trip To Atlanta
Guess what major NYC event is going on at the same time the Blogging While Brown conference is going on, besides Merengue Night at Shea Stadium, which I was almost willing to miss to go to Georgia?

The New York International Latino Film Festival. As in, the same festival I usually cover for clients.

I was this close to paying way too much for a plane ticket down south when I saw a bulletin from the NYILFF looking for volunteers... and then I remembered...

I'd like to thank the conference organizers, though, for being kind enough to refund my money in full. And sorry I had to pull back at the last minute!

And Finally, She Paid Down Her Debt
This year, for me, is all about getting out of debt. To that end both Capital One accounts and *soon* (as in Monday!) my Perkins Loan from Alfred (will) have been dealt with. They are all officially a thing of the past.

Again... weight. lifted. off. shoulders.

*exhales deeply*

All that's left now are two more credit cards and the Stafford Loans I took out for undergrad and grad school... I'm feeling pretty good. Can you tell?

*smooches...well rested with a shiny, clean aura*
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missed me, didn't ya?! yeah you did, you missed me, punk!

I bet you were expecting a father's day post, huh? well, I already gave Papi his props here and there's nothing more to say on that except I LOVE YOU, PA, CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU THIS SUMMER.

and yeah, my ex is a good dad but ewww, why would I talk about him any more than I have to?

oh, and if you want to know about my triflin' ass, biological paternal parental unit, visit this old post.

but happy father's day to all the awesome daddies out there in blog land. even you, 12kyle *side-eye*

Two Days And Counting: Deep Cleansing Breaths

Mid-week report... hot off the presses...

Money, Schmoney
I have to wait until May 30th to get my tax refund. I'm stank. Why come when the IRS wants their money it has to be NOW NOW NOW, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT YOUR ECONOMIC STIMULUS CHECK, but when they owe me I have to wait 10 business days? Bitches, man, all of them.

(just kidding... don't audit me... love you guys... wonderful job you're doing there...)

And I was able to settle with two of the credit card people. Just two more to go. Yes, FOUR, okay? Don't act like I was the only one. And that AU Perkins Loan will soon be a thing of the past... bringing my new student loan debt down to a mere $73,000. Piece of cake. No problem.

*wonders how many shifts at Scores she'll have to pick up to pay off Uncle Sam*

Go North, Young Lass
Cali was a no-go, and Cathi's offer to relax in Maine was not the kind of devilish, paganistic raunchiness I was looking for for my birthday/holiday weekend. Enter Nina. Ahh yes, the Queen of Debauchery herself. She always tries to downplay it like we're just gonna chill at this lounge or that, grab a bite, hang out, catch a show, but the next thing you know I'm at the Canadian border hoping they won't shine the flashlight directly into my eyes. Sounds like fun, right? Fighting with border patrol?? Yup, that's why I'm heading to Massachusetts for my birthday.

Good thing I have a passport!

FUH-LEET WEEK, BITCHEZ!!!
Oh lord... who can stay mad about some stupid Ghana trip with all the HOTTIE McHOTTIE SAILORS all over Lower Manhattan? Thank everything holy on this earth that I no longer have a nanny to cover for me in the evenings, otherwise I might've ended up pregnant by Friday!

And don't even ask me what Fleet Week is, okay, cause you're just gonna piss me off with your sub par knowledge of NYC. Google that shit.

Oye Hermanas!!
Cool link about a Latina Blog Tour; I hate finding this shit out after the fact!!

Let's try and be included up in that bitch next year, mmkay?

If You're In The Mood To Party...
I finally settled on what to do to celebrate my old age in the city. If you live here, you're more than welcomed to come out. If you'll be visiting the city next weekend, absolutely stop through. And this goes for readers & lurkers alike. You know you want to experience this Jadedness up close... you ain't got tah lie, Craig, you ain't got tah lie..."

Just be at Moe's in Ft. Greene, BK (80 Lafayette) anytime after 10PM on May 31st and chances are you'll see me in there acting a fool on the dance floor and trying to keep from bursting out of my top (every year, man, never fails... sigh...). Email me if you need more info.

*smooches...putting on a happy face whether I want to or not*
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oh, and everybody go peep Mari's awesome "I Am" poem over at Stranger Than Fiction. It runs in the family... don't hate...

Four Days And Counting: If The Shirt Fits...And Other Musings

I miss doing my lil weekend updates... ever since I started posting every day I've forgotten that one of the things I like best about blogging for you guys was saving up all the juicy details from Friday-Sunday for the Monday morning post. So here goes...

Hellooooooo, RUM!
It was raining like the dickens on Friday but you know what? NOTHING was coming in between me n my liquor, know what I'm saying? My week was HORRENDOUS, topped off of course by my Papi's loss AND not being able to go to Cali for my birthday *sniffle*

So Irene and I went out on a much overdue "reunion" of sorts, and we fell back into step- shootin the shit, drinking, snacking (although not as much as before... she went and got all healthy on me...hmph!)- as if the tension from this winter was just a bad dream. I'll go with that. It was a bad dream; we fucked up, it's passed, we pick up where we left off and will make sure to not let it happen again.

So did I mention there was RUM involved?? OH YEAH... sweet nectar of the gods... with pineapple juice... the memory of its intoxicating goodness is still fresh in my mind... I feel like I haven't had a drink in forever as opposed to just a month ago! But I haven't had RUM in a hot ghetto minute, so yeah, it was a reunion for me and it, too.

And Irene spilled her drink, so yeah... just like old times...

Found My Groove, But Not The One You Think
I was really, madly, truly going to get shit done Saturday morning- I'd signed up to help clean up Brooklyn Bridge Park, and I was going to get some writing out of the way, etc... but you know what? Season Three of Soul Food was just sitting there by the computer, taunting me, calling my name, reminding me that the first episode of the season features a shower scene with BORIS KODJOE. So guess what I did all morning?

After that I watched The Squid and the Whale- a terrible, terrible film and I'll NEVER EVER get my two hours back, dammit, but hell if I was gonna get off the couch and shut it off- I was too comfy for all that, found the groove in the couch that fit my lazy ass perfectly... I was home, yo- no kids or nothing! Just me, the sofa, a movie, big ass water bottle by my side and a bowl full of oatmeal Teddy Grahams and peanut butter. I live the good life.

Sancocho For The Soul
Finally, though, I showered and dressed because SOON SOON SOON it was SANCOCHO TIME at my aunt's. And lookie here:



I ate two hot, heaping bowls of it AND brought half of it home in the biggest Tupperware known to man:



I hung with her for a while, caught up, watched a Flavor of Love season 1 marathon (Hoopz was too cute for him... what the hell?!) and confessed about my tattoos. "Oh no, Rocky! Why would you do that to yourself??" Sorry, Titi; I like body art... what can I say?

To Party Or Not To Party
The Haitian sends me a text, which I responded to, but then nothing jumped off. I don't know why I keep messin' with that fool, but I do. I'm only human, dammit! But all was forgiven, though, when I got this video from him:

Mexican 300

OMG I've never laughed so hard!! Dique "tonight we dine in San Diego"

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!

And on the same site, I saw THIS:

Slutz Home Pregnancy Test

tears...down...face...can't...stop...laughing...must...breathe...

THEN I was promised my birthday gift from a certain someone who does not like to be talked about on this here blog, but you know what? I'm gonna talk about you... because you never called me back and now I'm salty. So there! And the longer I have to wait, the more inclined I will be to post "transcripts" of our conversations. You've been warned. You've known me for a long time, buddy... you know I'll do it...

So instead I was gonna go out and look for trouble like I used to but I was filled up to my esophagus with sancocho and decided, you know what? Sit your ass down and chill. So I did. Logged on to Netflix and started to watch The Orphanage... but I had to shut it off... HELL NO I'm not watching a flick that scary while the lights are out and I'm by myself... did I mention that Greenwood Cemetery is like RIGHT AROUND THE FREAKIN CORNER?? Yeah, I shut that shit off and went to sleep... under the covers... times like that is when I need a man in the house, you know, to throw at the monsters while I get a head start out of the house...

If The Shirt Fits
So a few days ago Q posted about her body issues, which is actually her family's body issues, which as a fellow Latina I can totally relate to. And on Friday, while talking to Irene I heard the most awful words come out my mouth: "If I could just go down one dress size I'll be good." WTF? Someone should have slapped me right then and there...

Irene calls me Sunday to say she's trying on her old clothes (she's recently lost a lot of weight so naturally, right? I do that shit, too) and I decide to go into my closet o' spring/summer clothes and see what damage I've done to my waistline over the winter.

And everything fit. Perfectly. Better, even. Well not that skirt from Olivia's baptism, but that shit never fit me from jump... I was kidding myself with that there skirt. In fact Mari- you can have it if you want.

So why am I all like, I need to drop one dress size?? Fuck that shit! I look damn good, okay, and if you don't think so then don't fucking look at me. And by "you" I mean The Voices that like to call me gorda n shit- fuck y'all!

I still want to go to Bally's on the regular, because it's no fun to get winded climbing the stairs or chasing N or dancing, but I'm not keeping track. And I threw out my scale, that's it, it is NOT welcomed in my home anymore. I don't want my girls weighing themselves like crazy anorexic bitches. It's OVER!

Because as long as my "Spicy Latina" t-shirt n seersucker shorts still fit me well, I have no worries at all... now, where are my Teddy Grahams??

Fuck You, Capital One
I done told you- you will get your money, okay? Can you STOP SWEATIN ME?? I don't want to have to say it again. And I don't take too kindly to threats- I'm from Bed-Stuy, BITCHEZ, I WILL cut you...

Don't make me angry. You wouldn't want to see me when I'm angry...

*smooches...still kinda scared 'cause I just watched the rest of The Orphanage*
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thanks Q, for posting that post, btw, because sometimes we try and keep up with bodies that are not like ours and we need to just STOP. It kept resonating in my head as I tried on my clothes and realized I was being too too hard on myself, too.

besos, chica!

Nineteen Days And Counting: Coming Soon To A Blog Near You

When I started this blog, it was pretty much a letter to my friends and family- the people on my email distribution list- to update them on the craziness that is my life. I chose a blog because I sometimes get all wrapped up in myself and forget to connect with my loved ones. Plus I HATE being on the phone but I love to write. It seemed only natural to use this newfangled thing called a "blog" to keep everyone in the loop.

Now, however, it seems that perfect strangers visit here, and it's been this way for a good couple of months now. While I'm totally flattered that anyone besides those who know me would take the time to read my crazy rants, it also made me a bit nervous, the world being what it is, and I wondered if I would need to censor myself.

I mean, of course I didn't- I'm nothing if not brutally honest- but for a second there I had to think twice about what I was posting. Like, what if a future employer read this, especially the posts where I admit to many a drunken and drug-induced crazy night?

Then I began to think, after years and years of reading Dooce.com, my blog idol, is it possible for me to make money off of this blog? Can I even attempt to do what she does? And be successful?

I won't know until I try, right?

So here's what's what: I'm still not 100% sure if I want everybody and MY momma reading this here blog; I'm pretty sure my elder family members would line up to whoop my ass if they knew about half the stuff I put up here. But I mean, it's a public site, so who's to say they aren't already lurking, right?

And I'm not sure how much more of an audience I would be able to attract because frankly, I'm not changing up my format or writing style to accommodate anyone except the 17 people on my distribution list who have been reading these posts since the very beginning (new folks, you know I love you like Dominicans love platanos, but I have to stay true to my original posse).

But I have the opportunity to participate in a blogging conference this summer, and know some people who can help me upgrade my page design and layout, as well as get me some advertisers (if my page views are appealing), so I'd be a fool not to take this chance. It could mean the difference between going crazy at a 9-5 and living my dream-- working from home in my PJs.

And this would also help me FINALLY launch that magazine I keep threatening to launch. And finish my personal writing projects.

Of course, I'm getting ahead of myself, and these are all a ways off and dependent on a fickle online audience. But I'm going to go for it. And if it doesn't work out, well, I'll always have my 17 subscribers and new blog friends. And that would be okay, too.

So if you notice some layout changes here over the next few months do not be alarmed. It's just me trying to do me for once!

*smooches...nervous but satisfied with my decision*
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please note that this will NOT affect my content; you will still be able to come here and read my unique brand of realness as usual. I'm still Jaded and nothing will ever change that.

unless of course I meet and marry John Cusack. then my life will be complete. ;)

Twenty-One Days And Counting: The Post-Nanny Life

I've complained before that my nanny was sub-par yet expensive, and that I suspected her of stealing from me, and I believe I also mentioned that I fired her sub-par ass not too long ago.

Which leaves me and only me to care for the babies after school; not that I mind too much. They are, for the most part, low-maintenance girls (an oxymoron, I know). And the new after-school program where I enrolled N is perfect for her- homework help and sports... that girl is in heaven right now.

What I didn't count on was the fact that I can no longer run errands or hang out after work. Those days are officially over. No more mid-week dates or meetup.com events. No more combing through the Burlington Coat Factory racks before I hop on the train. It's all over until K is of an age where I feel comfortable leaving her alone with her crazy sister at night.

Because I can just picture leaving K in charge only to find her tied up in a corner under N's evil reign...

And now all of a sudden I have a whole slew of things to do and no help! N has to go to the dentist because she was eating some damn Starburst and her cap came off; she also needs to have blood drawn for her routine physical. There are a few half-days at her school coming up and I have no coverage for that, either.

I am officially on lock down until the next school year. Damn. I should have thought this nanny firing through a little bit more...

But I suppose it's worth it if I get to leave work an hour early (thank you JESUS!) and I save $210 a week.

*smooches...looking forward to the summertime more than ever now*
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funny story- I let my landlord know that we let the nanny go; know what he said? "Good! She played the music too loud anyway!" LMAO!!!

meanwhile, I got K's report card and the grades have gone up except in Technology, but I didn't beat her ass this time... we're working this out calmly for now. she knows what's up!

I Wish I Had A Rabbit In A Hat With A Bat

But more than anything, I wish I had more time!!!

Here's what's doin' and brewin' on my mind:

So What Else Is New?
Every one I spoke to on Friday was all up in arms about the cops getting off on the Sean Bell shooting case. If you remember, my position on the incident was this, but also- read the name on the page... I was not expecting anyone to do any time on a case where The Boys in Blue shoot a black man on the streets of NYC. So excuse me if I ho-hummed through the rest of my day.

I know I should care, and I feel for his family and I'm disillusioned about our justice system, but for me it was like, "Cops got acquitted? Oh.. it must be Friday..." Plus Al Farton was up in there talking his usual brand of loose bowel movement, and y'all know how much I LOATHE that greezy muthafucka *growls*

I just do what I need to do to stay under the radar with law enforcement. And not to point a finger at the victim but, hey- you hang out in shady places with shady people, you can't expect your days to be carefree.

Newsflash: Tax Evasion Ain't No Joke
I don't feel bad for Wesley Snipes not one bit. Pay yo' damn taxes, fool! Nobody likes to pay it- NOBODY! But until we can do something about that... PAY YO' GOD DAMNED TAXES! And I don't want to hear the old, "well, his financial advisers are the ones who fucked him over..." Whatever, man!

My mom, a very wise and learned accountant, always told me: be careful what you sign, read everything including and especially the fine print, and follow your money everywhere it goes. I suppose Wes' mom forgot to tell him that. Hey Wes- a word of advice? Don't drop the soap...

I Quit. Finito. Me Fui.
I need money like John Travolta needs to come out of the closet, but these freelance gigs are killing me slow. So I'm quitting. I have to. I never have any time to just BE anymore. It's always, "We need this in a week" or "Can you turn that over in two days?" and in the meantime my 9-5 stays giving me gray hair and my house is literally upside down and I'm TIRED!! So I'm letting two of my clients know that I can no longer work for them. I think it will be better for me to only have one or two side gigs...then maybe I won't feel so stressed. In terms of money, well, I'll just have to cut back on spending...

Can I Please Have This Baby?
I saw this video on MySpace TV and OMG- it melted my Jaded little heart!! This baby is so freakin' adorable it should be illegal! As in cops should bust into his place and grab that guitar out of his hand and and squeeze his cheeks to death! And if it doesn't make you smile then you are the Anti-Christ!



It's Official- I'm Turning Into My Mom
I'm already aware of the fact that I inherited her stankness and "whatever" attitude, but I really realized that I was just like her when the thought of having company over made me utter the words: "I don't want people in my house!" Mari- is it me or was that Mom taking over my powers of speech right quick? HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!

There Is Such A Thing As Being "Too Big"
I'm not the kind of girl who discusses or elaborates on such things in a public forum, but I did feel that, as a public service announcement, because I love you all so much, you should know that bigger, is not always better. And bigger could quite possibly rip you in two, make your extremities lose all sensation and send you to the ER. That's all I'm sayin...

*smooches...enjoying my last day and a half as a bachelor*
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seriously, when the babies aren't here, I live like a single man with no home training- dishes all piled up, leaving my clothes all over the place, fridge empty as all hell, bathroom sink a hot mess... in other words, the good life! HA HA HA!!!

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Title courtesy of Skee-Lo, "I Wish"

You're Kept Alive And Polarized With One Thing In Mind

The last time I was on here promoting something it was for the poverty-stricken in Haiti. Before that I urged you all to get behind Mayor Bloomberg's PlaNYC. And occasionally I may have emailed some of you a petition to sign for the Environmental Defense Fund. All are near and dear to my heart.

Today I come at you with a teeny-tiny plea to help out the Food Bank of New York City, which is feeling the burn of the "recession" that no one wants to admit we're in. Basically, the cupboard is bare, people!

As a kid, even though all the grown-ups in my family worked and worked hard, long hours, there was no way we would've made it through 100% without the charitable organizations that provided food staples or free meals for kids in the summer. I'm not too proud to admit that I ate many a sandwich made up of government cheese, and that for a minute there, I thought "No Frills" was an actual brand. Whatever. My folks did what they had to do and I'm still alive to tell the tale.

Now, I'm not rich- y'all know that. But I'm not starving either (as evidenced by this gut). When I saw a post on Wendy's blog mentioning the Food Bank with the accompanying article stating that the wells were running dry, I felt compelled to help out.

I'm not saying anybody reading this has to help, but if you can spare even $5 for a good cause, the hungry people of NYC would much appreciate it. I've also requested to lead a team for a virtual food drive; those who want to be a part of my team, email me for more info.

*smooches...figuring, better to spend a Lincoln on charity than on another artery-clogging 3-piece chicken strip meal from McDonald's*
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besides, it will make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing you did something so good :)

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Title courtesy of Velvet Revolver, "Set Me Free"

We Think We Know What We're Doin', That Don't Mean A Thing

How is it that a person could have a full-time salary position in addition to a few freelance gigs and still search the couch cushions for money to make ends meet every month?

Easy, if that person is a divorced, two-kid-havin' writer.

I don't mean writer as in "writing is my passion so I have this blog and I keep a journal and write short stories on weekends" writer, I mean this is my job description on my company's website:

"The Jaded NYer is the Senior Staff Writer, in charge of client communications, blah blah blah..."

And that seems all fancy and professional and important, but it loosely translates to:

"The Jaded NYer earns $2.50 an hour, only gets 1/2 hour for lunch, and can't take vacation days whenever she wants."

It's pretty much like that for most writing positions in NYC- trust me, I've looked- unless you write grants or something specialized and corporate (I'm not that desperate yet), or your name is Candace Bushnell. But I can't get those specialized jobs because I don't have the experience (or interest!), and I can't get the experience because no one will hire me and give me a shot at them. So I here I am stuck in PR, slowly losing my self, my soul, and my love of the written word.

Oh yeah, and my financial security, as if I ever had it to begin with.

I do acknowledge that I've made some poor decisions with regards to money. I shouldn't have taken all those trips in 2006; the formal divorce proceedings could have waited a bit while we remained separated; my new phone wasn't 100% necessary; I didn't HAVE TO throw those big parties for my babies (oh, who am I kidding- of COURSE I did...). And all the money I've wasted on take-out and food that I let spoil in my fridge would make you cry.

Other decisions that are coming back to bite me in the ass were necessary at the time- the student loans I needed to get out of the ghetto; the credit cards that helped me survive after I left The Waco School For Girls and was unemployed for like three months; the expensive, yet small as hell, apartment in the safe neighborhood- I needed all of that.

But coulda, woulda, shoulda never made anything better... so let me not even dwell on this mess.

I guess I was naive enough to believe that I'd have all these degrees and credentials under my belt and would be able to make enough to pay for it all... boy is there egg on MY face! I should change this blog to The STOOPIT NYer, for real!

Well, kiddies, I'm here to tell you that it is NOT enough.

Food prices are through the roof and my kids eat as if tomorrow will never come and they have to eat everything before the Second Coming, lest Jesus Christ find leftovers in the fridge.

My nanny earns (well, earned... by the time you read this I will have already let her go) as much as I do, and if my ex weren't chipping in half I'd pretty much be handing over my paycheck to her, my landlord and Foodtown.

And my kids are outgrowing the apartment- yes, it IS that small... they have these long awkward limbs that keep tripping over and bumping into shit all the live-long day. I need to find something more spacious which will translate to at least a couple hundred more in rent if I stay in my area, or a HUGE reduction in safety 'cause I'll have to move to *GULP* Bushwick or something.

So when people ask why my thesis edits aren't done, it's because I had to use my time combing the freelance writing job boards to try and supplement my income. And if you want to know why I'm washing clothes out in the sink, it's because it was rent week and I had nothing left over to go to the laundromat. And why didn't I go to that fabulous party and live it up like I was known to do in the past?

Ask Sallie Mae... bitch just jacked me for my paper...

*smooches... closing comments because this is a rant that needs no co-signers*
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Hope this wasn't too harsh; just know this rant and anger is directed inward... I'll be better tomorrow. And if you have any job leads send them bitches over post-haste LOL

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Title courtesy of Cyndi Lauper, "Money Changes Everything"

And Now The Fallout...

New York Governor Idiot Spitzer, AKA Client 9, spent 80Gs on hookers?! Are you FUCKING kidding me? I hope that number is exaggerated... you know what I can do with 80Gs, dude? My student loans would be a thing of the past, credit cards would have a zero balance and my paycheck would be all mine.

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...
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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!
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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..."
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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!
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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*
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the saga continues... I'm still waiting to see an Inside Edition interview with Monica and Paula's take on the situation, HA!!!

Operation Bikini Body, Day 42: Moving Backwards

I have not worked out in ages. My eating is out of control. I look like I'm 3 months pregnant. I'm not getting any sleep.

I'm sure I've gained back everything I've lost and then some. And frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

Well, that's not 100% true, but my motivation level has deteriorated drastically in the last few weeks, partly because of my health and my job/financial situation, but mostly because I'm at an emotional low right now. And my only defense mechanism against the lows is food and mindless entertainment.

Which means I've become re-acquainted with the take-out places in my neighborhood (oh, how they've missed me) and I've been planting myself in front of my computer watching bootleg movies online until the wee hours of the night.

I see myself going to that bad place, you know, and it's like watching a movie. I yell at the screen, "Get up you lazy fuck! Wash the dishes! File your papers! FINISH YOUR FUCKING THESIS!" But the character on the "screen" doesn't hear me.

And of course my mind is working overtime with the five trillion worries I have right now, and my to-do list looks like the census report for Calcutta. Remember that movie Multiplicity? Yeah, I need like 5 more Jaded NYers to finish all the shit I have on my plate. Normally, I'm all for multi-tasking and overachieving and all that good stuff, but this is ridiculous.

I wonder at which point I will finally admit that it's all just too much, throw in the towel and cry, "No mas"?

*smooches...not really psyched about my birthday anymore*
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it's not like Puerto Rico is going anywhere...there's always next year...

I Defer To You, Ms. Universe

How does that joke go: If you want to make god laugh, make plans for tomorrow? Yeah, well god is having a rip-roaring HI-larious time today for sure, because my much anticipated trip out of NYC was brought to a screeching halt.

There were signs here and there that it wasn't going to happen, but I tried to ignore it; didn't want to face facts and all. Because I'm hard-headed like that and tend to throw tantrums when things don't go my way.

First, taking the cheaper bus into Boston was out, but I pushed some money around and took on an extra assignment this week and was set to pay the extra fare required to go directly into Springfield.

Then N had a birthday party in BK on Saturday. I originally had coverage for that but then she bailed (*gives Minnie the side-eye*) and my ex was unable to make so many trips back and forth into the city. But then we found a back-up plan, so I thought it was all good.

Then my hostess comes down with whatever it was I had last week; I could hear in her voice that she was on her deathbed. I still wanted to party but let's be honest- if she sounded like the walking dead on Thursday, there was no way she'd be 100% by Saturday. And I need her healthy for Puerto Rico so I figured MA was out, maybe I'd go south and visit my baby sis.

Only Mari already had company whom I suppose is all of a sudden more important than me, so DC was out as well. My out-of-town-ness was looking bleak.

THEN- LANI TO THE RESCUE! She suggests Montreal, which I get super excited about because I haven't been to Canada since that time I... um, well lets just say I haven't been to Canada in a while, and it was about time I made a reappearance. And THIS TIME, I have a passport, so there would be no repeat of that nasty border issue...

BUT THEN the Universe said, "HA! You ain't going no-where, child. Check your bank account..." And when I did, I swear I think I heard crickets. I forgot about that hefty Verizon bill that was being paid out directly, added to the hefty hefty hefty student loan bills (did I mention they were HEFTY??) coming due on the 20th, and well, I guess I'm stuck here for the long weekend. Again.

Me and the stupid crickets.

*smooches...sick and tired of my four walls*
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for the next few days I will be the newest resident of Stankonia, so you might want to tread lightly around me...I plan to take my frustrations out on the Precor machines at Bally's...