Me + Idris + The PA I Almost Had To Kill: A Jaded Dream Post

It's been a long time since I've posted a dream for analyzing, but honestly my vivid dreams have been few and far between. But here's one from this past weekend that should prove quite entertaining. Ready? Ready!

So I'm dating Idris Elba (stop laughing) and he stays over my place one night. In the morning he has to get to work on a set near my apartment, and goes to use the restroom but I'm like "Noooo N's home and I don't want her to know you were here."

But he's all, "I have to meet her eventually."

So fine. They meet and it's awkward as hell. Right then some strangers try cutting through my room to leave this restaurant that is now behind my apartment attached to the buildings and I tell them "no, you gotta go around." I lock the door and Idris leaves.

Ffwd to that night, I see my door is open because people ignored me and have been cutting through my apartment all day. I go out there to talk to them and see everyone dressed in 1970s exploitation film attire and looking high as fuck. They're filming a goddamn movie at the restaurant. I tell one of the production ladies she can't go through my place but she's like, "yeah, we can and we will."

I go OFF. I say "no, you paid for use of the restaurant and alley, not my apartment."

So we argue and this production lady has a whole production team with her but I stand my ground: they CANNOT cut through my apartment to come and go. She says they spoke with my landlord and he gave permission. I say, "I doubt it" and slam the door in her face and lock it. The door has this big window in it, and don't you know this bitch threw a chair through that window? So now it's on. I reach through and slap her in the face through the broken window and when she tries to reach in and hit me I move her arm so a shard of glass slices her. It's a whole ruckus.

They walk away but I know something is up so I scoop up Naomi and leave the apartment, but before I do I see Idris left his shoes in my place, and I'm low key pissed. Who does that? This ain't your house, Idris! But I digress.

Outside, one of the actors on set is wildin' out and a PA has to tell him to chill, so I realize I'm dealing with an amped up cast and crew--what the hell kinda film is this? I'm already nervous because folks have been in my apartment and now the glass is broken so they can get in again, and now I see these ain't normal sober people. So I'm fitna call the cops and shut down production.

But guess what?

It's the movie Idris is working on!

So now I have to choose between being with Idris-fucking-Elba, or standing my ground against this feral cast and crew. I was so troubled by this that I woke up!

Kelly! I know you're reading this; tell me what it all means!

*smooches...vowing to lay off the late-night snacks*
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clearly that was a buffalo wing-induced nightmare!

Sweet Distractions Tastes Like "Lemonade"

Ahhhh, Beyonce. You'll never know how much I needed something else to focus on this week.

Her latest studio album is the official 2005-2006 Jaded Anthem Soundtrack. If I could re-divorce my ex I would, and play this album while signing my papers because YASSSSSS I AIN'T THINKIN' 'BOUT YOU (from "Sorry")

Of course my favorite Lemonade song is "Sorry" CAUSE I AIN'T SORRY THUG LIFE & FUCK YO FEELINGS FOR LIFE! *whew* that felt good.

— The Jaded NYer (@TheJadedNYer) April 25, 2016

If you haven't listened, give it a shot. It's fun, it's danceable, it opens a few wounds, it heals the hurt a little bit. She did that.

MIDDLE FINGERS IN THE AIR.

Now please excuse me while I break up with all of the mens I'm not even dating, just because.

*smooches...but I still ain't sorry*
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y'all. when a woman's fed up... TELL HIM 'BOY BYE'

Mari Speaks On...

...dating:

"If I shave my legs and apply lotion the day we hang out, we go together."

File that under #mariskeystodating. You're welcome.

*smooches...sharing important info with the masses*
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and this is why I say Mari is crazy

Where My Tuition Payments Went

ME: someone is trying to get me to watch "Fargo" on TV.

K: Isn't that about wolves? And the wilderness?

ME: No... there's a movie called Fargo with Steve Buscemi but it's not about wolves.

K: Yes! That book, it's a classic, about wolves!

ME (thinking really hard): You mean Call of the Wild?

K: YES! Is it written by someone named Fargo?

ME (googles): NO. It's by Jack London.

K: There's something with an "F" about wolves and the wilderness...

ME: You mean White Fang?

K: Possibly.

ME: How is that anywhere close to "Fargo"?

K: There's a book about wolves! I'm going to find it!

Lord Jesus, help this child of mine. Freshman year has clearly stolen her brain.

*smooches...realizing my kids are me all over again*
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can you think of anything scarier??

What I Found In My Purse, Pt. 1

Lubricant.

Let me explain.

After my fabulous reading at Pacific Standard on the 17th, I stuck around with some folks and maybe, allegedly had one too many drinks. When it was clear we'd need food to sustain this level of drinking, we decided to leave the bar. And guess what was near the door? A bowl full of condoms and lube. FOR FREE.

So drunk Raquel decided these were MUST-HAVE items, despite the fact that 1) she's not having sex with anyone and B) she already has about 100 condoms at home (a gift from a cousin; a story for another day).

A week ago or so I had a foggy memory about trying to hand out these condoms and lube to some homeless people on the street, only to have my drinking buddies snatch me up and throw me in a cab with a NO MAS, GO HOME. #Rude.

And now fast forward to last night, I'm cleaning out my tote because it weighs about 15lbs and my back can't take it. What do I find at the bottom? Two condoms and two packets of lubricant. It took me a minute to remember how these got in my bag, but there it is. The story of how I found lube in my purse.

Also? JUST SAY NO.

*smooches...remembering why I stopped boozing*
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although the stories are pretty blog-worthy...

We're All Adults Here, Right?

FRIEND: This is my second attempt at contact. I'm done now. No reply, no goodies. I shall go to the freaky store, lol quench my own damn thirst.

ME: How many are there out there?

FRIEND: IDK I only go to one.

ME: "Hey! Welcome back, [FRIEND]!"

FRIEND: O_O!!! I'm [FAKE NAME] in there!

ME: hahahahaha!

FRIEND: Cash only lmao!!!

ME: #Trife

FRIEND: Prolly

ME: *orders online; plain brown box*

FRIEND: #TrifeLife

*smooches...unapologetically unashamed*
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I don't see none of y'all paying my bills OR quenching my thirst O_o

Mari Speaks On...

...her recent trip to Buffalo:

"If depression were a place, it would be the downtown Buffalo bus station. It's #turrible. Imagine a place where the Boulevard of Broken Dreams meets the drop off spot for meth recovery center grads, who stumbled upon some crystal a few hours ago."

*smooches...glad I've never gone to Buffalo by bus*
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although part of me wants to witness this slice of Americana firsthand

Alien Abductions Are Real

WHO BELONGS TO THESE SHOES? 

WHERE DID THEY TAKE HIM???

The Lonely Shoes (c) 2014 The Jaded NYer

*smooches...getting my aluminum foil hat ready*
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this is not a drill, ladies and gentlemen!

Who Gives A F*ck?

YO! Why did my coworker introduce me to this song? It's a wrap, now, dawg. Come at me with any mamsy-pamsy problem, and I will start singing this in yo' face!



"I don't use the car anymore so I have to use public trans to take N around all weekend..." ::points to video::

"We're out of snack foods." ::points to video::

"I never get to see you anymore." ::points to video::

"Can we send this email out today?" ::points to video::

"Is it too late to sign up for the reading you're hosting tomorrow?" ::points to video::

You get the picture. MAN OH MAN it's gonna be a great spring at Casa Penzo...

*smooches...with no f*cks left to give*
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I feel so ALIVE, y'all!

Translation?

ME: (threatening N): Mira te voy a tirar este zapato en la misma cara, coño...!!!

N: (scared eyes, running) CARA MEANS FACE!

*smooches...still giggling*
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who can stay mad after that?

Pretty Ni**as

FRIEND: Look at how cute this guy is:



FRIEND: The only thing is he has intermittent facial hair.

ME: I could look past that, however he looks like the type of negro that will rock your socks off BUT have 30 bitches on the side.

FRIEND: It's the thin nose and lips; untrustworthy.

ME: Mhmm. Pretty ni**as always act up.

FRIEND: Mmhmm.

ME: Don't let him have "good" hair. Sheeeeiiiiiittttttt, you'll only see him every other Thursday, talkin' bout "I'm in the studio, bae!"

FRIEND: O_o That's why I don't deal with 'em. I can't take any dude seriously who would be considered mainstream attractive. Like, if a fine dude try to holla at me, I'd catch an attitude. "The fuck you want?!"

ME: LMAO!!! yeah. I like my black men beaten, bruised and with low self-esteem. I need to be the baddest bitch in this relationship, bruh.

FRIEND: Ma'am!

*smooches...lowering my standards in the name of comedy*
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or am I?

Germaphobe?

(A conversation that transpired with a friend; we were discussing Terrence Howard's latest nuptials and why anyone would marry him so fast. I say money, friend says "dick too bomb." The thought of Terrence Howard's penis made my stomach turn...)

ME: Ewww. I imagine his dick is too yellow. Almost white. And white peen frightens me. It looks undercooked. Like I'm gonna get salmonella from it.

FRIEND: Let yourself out.

ME: *sigh* Fine

FRIEND: And for the record, light-skinned penis is great. They fuck like they have a point to prove.

ME: LMAO!

FRIEND: I've said too much.

*smooches...not too experienced with light-skinned penis*
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but please, feel free to share your tales of Yellow Snake Sex.

Race Relations

FRIEND: How come when I look up "multiracial family holiday dinner" in Thinkstock, the minority wife always looks like the help?

ME: Because white dudes always marry help-looking black women. And vice versa. How's that?

FRIEND: That'll play

ME: I must admit- it's extremely rare that I'll come across an interracial couple that doesn't look like what we've described

FRIEND: LoL!

ME: And when I do, the black woman is bi-racial herself. You know what this made me think about?

FRIEND: what?

ME: I've noticed that I'll give a pass to dark-skinned black men who aren't that cute because of their dark-skin. Like I'll still be attracted to them. Is that racist? But let a light-skinned dude be average. I'm all "DO BETTER!"

FRIEND: lmao! Ma'am...

ME: It's reverse for black women. I think Massa has programmed me to think as such...

FRIEND: prolly. It's all Massa's fault

ME: How do I deprogram so I don't end up married to some creature from the black planet (dot com)? I need to see ugly for ugly, and not skin color. I'm too cute to date a creature!

FRIEND: Agreed. I'm programmed to want to physically violate attractive dark skinned men but only want to have the children of light skinned men so I can have brown babies.

ME: LMAO! Ma'am

FRIEND: What? It's true.

ME: We bofe need deprogramming

FRIEND: I'm extra careful every time I sleep with a dark skinned dude. "You gotta wear a condom AND pull out."

ME: I need you to leave and never come back

FRIEND: That's my truth.

*smooches...realizing my friends STILL ain't shit*
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but I guess we'll be ain't shit together

Because Bad Credit Isn't Embarrassing Enough

Tonight I met the most beautiful man.

Wait- let me back up a bit and go on a tangent.

Recently, I decided I was done dating. I don't really like myself right now and I REALLY don't like other people, and the thought of a first date makes me want to burrow INTO my sofa instead of just laying on it. And TMI but it has to be said, I don't enjoy sex. It's messy and my fibroids make the act rather painful. The thought of having to fake it YET AGAIN with someone new is too much for me right now. I don't want to. So I decided to just be done with dating because I know how you men are; no sex is a dealbreaker, right? Right.

On another tangent, having to deal with Ks tuition bills and my own suffocating debt has forced me to really face the music about my finances and crawl out of this broke-ass sinkhole once and for all. I have a great job that pays me super-well. There's no reason why I should be emptying out piggy banks at the local CoinStar machine just to buy groceries. At work, I heard about a free service offered by the City to meet with a financial counselor one-on-one and I jumped at the chance. FREE is my favorite word these days, and frankly, all I can afford until I snag up three more jobs like the third cousin twice removed of the Hedleys.



This is where both tangents meet up and give birth to the first sentence of this post.

Tonight I met the most beautiful man. He was tall, brown skin, bearded, fit, smart, well-groomed, funny, charming, and possessed the sexiest pair of lips I've seen in a very long time. He plays football, y'all. FOOTBALL. He owns his own home and other properties. He's so "good on paper" I'd sign off on a myomectomy so fast, just so that I could give him a million babies.

People, he was EVERYTHING in my imagination, at least.

Tonight I met the most beautiful man. But, because my life is a motherfucking sitcom, that man just happens to be the person who is now privy to my atrocious credit score, terrible spending habits, and irresponsibly out-of-control debt.

Touché, Jesus. I see what you did there.

*smooches...losing miserably at life*
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I've never really been good at chess but I do believe this is a checkmate situation, no?

This Is What Depression Looks Like, Too

ME: (self-medicating, again) I want Thai food but I also want nachos. UGH. Why don't they sell nachos at the Thai place?

N: (from her room) ...

ME: I CAN FEEL YOU JUDGING ME!

*smooches...waiting for one of y'all to come get her*
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there's a funny dynamic between us these days; a good one, though, so don't be alarmed

And That's Why She's Walking Around With A Black Eye

ME: (describing my fake alter egos) ...and then there's Maritza- she's a high school drop out, is loud, carries a razor tucked away in her mouth and will cut you if you even think about looking at her man...

N: Wait- how does your alter ego have a boyfriend but you don't.

ME: ...

*smooches...putting a 13-year-old up for sale on eBay*
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I mean the absolute NERVE

Thirteen Years Of This Bundle Of Energy

I decided to have a second baby for two reasons. One, I was unhappy and thought another cuddly baby would solve all my problems; and two, I firmly believed (and still do) that every child needs a sibling. My first experience as a mom was a breeze-K was such an easy baby-that I just knew the sequel would be just as fun. Enter N.

A sister or brother is seriously a friend for life

She's always been a rough-and-tumbly kind of baby, climbing up on kitchen counters, eating sugar and baby powder when unattended, hanging precariously from monkey bars and speaking out of turn. Just a pure thug. I learned early on not to let that little face fool me.

There was one instance while we were potty training her, where she pooped on the floor and then kept it moving like it wasn't her. Seconds later K stepped in it because HELLO, who expects to find poop in the middle of the floor inside the house? Oh my, did that little thug laugh her ass off...she gave no fucks about poor K's poopie foot. She'd done her business and was moving on with her day.

And that's pretty much how she's YOLO'd her entire existence on this earth. It's been 13 years of What Will N Do/Say Next?

Giving no fucks at her Guela's birthday party

Giving no fucks about chicken pox

Giving no fucks about website photo shoots

Giving no fucks about not knowing how to swim yet

UV Rays? She gives no fucks

And I've enjoyed every minute of it.

Now she's this huge, almost-young-woman who plays sports and builds things out of nothing but pure imagination and scraps of whatever she can find, who has opinions and knowledge of stuff and grown-folk underwear, and I'm all HUH?! Where's my squooshy baby?!

Giving no fucks about empty calories, either

Still, I regret it not.

HAPPY (Belated) BIRTHDAY, 

SCHMOO-PIE!

*smooches...just for N on her birthday*
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let's see if I still feel this way next year...

Hello Brooklyn.

Your eyes do not deceive you. This is a photograph of a shopping cart, filled with someone's earthly possessions, parked in the bike rack.

Really, though? Okay...

Just another day at work.

*smooches...thinking your Monday couldn't have been better than mine*
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how was your weekend, though?

When Twitter Catchphrases Get Real

An exchange between me and Mari during my Penzo Grandmother's birthday party...

ME: (saying something catty and/or snarky)

MARI: WHO HURT YOU?!

ME: This is the wrong place to ask that question...

At the scene of the crime

*smooches...finding the humor in my dysfunction*
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you have to be able to laugh at yourself, folks!

My Friends Ain't Shit

My homie--who lives with a baby momma he cannot stand at all--responded to my request, asking for a ride to the airport tomorrow, like so:

Reckon i cain't seein how massa say Iysa gonna b in de hotbox all week onna counta I came in real late last nite, and imma doit again 2nite...

I just wanted y'all to know I'm not the only one in my circle that's missing a few marbles.

*smooches...appreciating my empty bed tonight*
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there but for the grace of Obama go I...