I Will Become The Best Me Or Die Trying

Joel Osteen is coming to Madison Square Garden next weekend. And guess who's going with their mami and tia? That's right bitches, I'm going to hear my boo dish out the inspirational and motivational speeches he's known for. And what of it?

Listen, don't get all nervous- I'm not saying I'm gonna turn into a Jesus freak and start protesting at abortion clinics and give up alcohol (although my liver would probably really thank me!), but this slovenly life of debauchery I've been living can't have a good ending to it, so I'm trying to make positive changes. This does not change my feelings on organized religion or my belief that it fucks people's heads up; I'm merely going for the pep talk.

Not to mention that the day after Joely-bear and I hang out, Lani and I are attending a meditation event in the City.

God (no pun intended), I need this shyt so bad, readers. My spirit is broken, ripped to shreds and left in the gutter somewhere in Riverdale, and I need to learn how to mend it ASAP. Being the Jaded NYer is fun and all, and I do get a kick out of it, and it helps my writing, but dammit it's exhausting! Just once I'd like to accept a compliment without rolling my eyes. Or face an obstacle without locking myself in the bathroom to throw a crying hissy-fit because "things NEVER go my way!" Just once.

And seeing Joely-bear and shutting the god damn voices in my head once and for all seem like a good way to start.

*smooches...on my way...where? I'll know when I get there...*
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All wholsom food is caught without a net or a trap.
Bring out number weight & measure in a year of dearth.
No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings.
A dead body, revenges not injuries.
The most sublime act is to set another before you.
If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.
Folly is the cloke of knavery.
Shame is Prides cloke.

I Left YOU, Remember?

When it comes to my divorce, I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that it was the right thing to do. Maybe I should have done it sooner- that's the only minor regret I have there- but otherwise I'm 100% happy and satisfied with my decision.

So when my ex-husband announced that he met someone and it has bloomed into a serious relationship, sure it made me feel like a loser for not having someone myself, but I never begrudged him his girlfriend. I'm glad he found someone. Now my guilt over dumping his ass can just melt away. And now when he has other family emergencies or "down days," or when his diabetes gets a hold of him, it can be HER problem and not mine. When he emailed me a meek little email to tell me about his woman, I remember thinking: THANK YOU JESUS- I'm FREE!!!

This weekend Bryant Park is hosting Culture Fest, an event we used to attend as a family, and he asked what day I was going because he was going to go on Saturday with his girlfriend and didn't want things to get awkward.

For whom, sweetie? Maybe for you. Or her. And yeah, probably for the girls. But PU-LEESE do not worry your pretty little head over bumping into me when your lady is around. I am soooooo not hatin' on her my dear, because I still have very vivid memories of what I left behind.

And while I'm still swimming in the murky waters of casual hook-ups, pining over the dude I dated after you and strutting around in faux-relationships with dudes I've met in bars and on the internet, I would not go back to that for all the tequila and tostitos on the planet.

So please. Don't worry. It's okay to bring her to Bryant Park. Yes, I did get New York City (and Montauk!) in the divorce settlement, but you still have visitation rights!

*smooches...living my life 99.9998% regret-free*
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forgive me if i laugh
you are so sure of love
you are so young
and i too old to learn of love.

the rain exploding
in the air is love
the grass excreting her
green wax is love
and stones remembering
past steps is love,
but you. you are too young
for love
and i too old.

once. what does it matter
when or who, i knew
of love.
i fixed my body
under his and went
to sleep in love
all trace of me
was wiped away

forgive me if i smile
young heiress of a naked dream
you are so young
and i too old to learn of love.

Why Did I Just Let Out A Sigh Of Relief?

I'm reading about the shooting at that high school in Ohio, and I'm noticing that all the kids huddled together were black. So my first thought was Dammit! The Man has infiltrated our kids and now we're starting to shoot up schools, too!

But then I read the full report in today's news article...and come to find that Asa Coon, the shooter, was white.

I don't mean to get racial on ya'll but let's face it- when a black kid comes to school with a gun, he's not gonna take down random people just because. He knows the exact muthafucka that's gonna get a cap in his ass, for real, and that muthafucka knows exactly why he's getting shot. But for some reason, it seems to be all the rage with angry white boys to just open fire and take as many people down as possible. WTF white boys? Why ya'll so mad?

Now in this particular case, Asa had serious mental issues (according to the news), but then again, anybody who thinks it's okay to open fire on a crowd because their having a bad day has to more than a little "touched." And I like how the article stressed that Asa wore a Marilyn Manson t-shirt on the day of the shooting, and that he "worshipped" Manson and not god. Here we go again. I personally don't care for Manson as an artist- he fell off a long time ago in my book- but damn! Must every crazy shooter invoke his name?

Thankfully, those shot were only injured, and the only casualty was Asa himself. But can I make a request to the Asa's of the world?

Boo, if you feel like this world is shit, and you don't want to be in it anymore, then don't. Do yourself in. But can you leave the rest of us be? I mean damn! Get a grip, people!!

*smooches...wondering how hard it would be to home school my girls*
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And there are corpses,
feet made of cold and sticky clay,
death is inside the bones,
like a barking where there are no dogs,
coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere,
growing in the damp air like tears of rain.

"...But You've Never Been With THIS Man..."

This past weekend was the weekend to end all weekends so far this year. Every other weekend I've had- the crazy Red Hook incident, Sean Paul, D.C. with Mari; all were no match for this past weekend...when NINA came to visit...

It all started off innocently enough; I stayed in Friday night and cleaned up my place a bit, watched some Gilmore Girls and caught up on Entourage, Weeds, 30 Rock, Degrassi TNG and Ugly Betty. A lot of TV for someone who has no TV...I know...

Saturday afternoon, Nina shows up and it's like she never left, as if it hadn't been 2+ years since I'd laid eyes on MY OWN COUSIN and we sit and shoot the shit for a while before I take her to my Mexican place to feast on the enchiladas that have captured my soul. We touched base with Lani and Irene in preparation for the night's festivities and headed home to get ready.

Our first stop was the Brooklyn Museum, which was hosting Target's First Saturdays (a program of great FREE activities offered on the first Saturday of every month) and had a Caribbean theme. Although someone forgot to tell the DJ at the dance party, because he kept spinning hip-hop the whole time!

While I gulped my red red wine (OH NO!!) and bopped my head to the funky fresh beat, I spotted this Asian guy, sooooooo into the groove that I just HAD to shove Nina into him so that they could dance. And Nina being Nina, she danced with him. And talked to him. Highlights from their conversation include his absolute fascination with her dress, his telling her that his name was Cheyenne, with a C, and an outright marriage proposal. No lie. PLUS, he introduced us to the BEST pick-up line we've EVER heard...

Cheyenne with a C: Have you ever been with a man?

Nina: Yes

Cheyenne with a C: But you've never been with this man!

How do you even respond to that? We decided to leave before Cheyenne with a C started picking out their China pattern, and went back to Lani's place so she could change shoes. Because it was Saturday night and my kids were gone. So of course that means we were going to Bembe.

At Bembe, I was happy to see Medina on the ones and twos, and the place was crazy packed. We met up with Irene, got some drinks and headed downstairs where the temperature is always a deadly 125 degrees and started shaking our groove thangs. And me especially because for some reason it occurred to me that the twins needed to make an appearance that night. And what an appearance it was. After about 30 minutes we lost Lani to a hot n tall dread-lock rasta. Nina looked at Irene and I and stated, "And then there were three." We continued to dance and sweat; I ordered another round of mojitos; we danced and sweated out our 'dos some more. Then, in the blink of an eye, Nina got snatched up by a short Ecuadorian, Santiago, who was really really interested in spending more time with her and "getting to know her better." But Nina never leaves the house without her escape clause: I'm leaving for Boston on Monday and then DR on Wednesday. She's like my hero.

And then there were two.

But the heat was really getting unbearable. Bembe, you see, is a small venue. And it only works if there is a healthy flow- both in AND out- of people. On this night, however, people were coming in in droves, but weren't leaving! Irene had had enough. She decided to go home and Nina and I walked her out. We hung out there for a bit, plotted evilness, and then walked Irene to her car. On the way back in Neil, a bouncer I've never seen there before, caught my eye. But dammit if I didn't chicken out of asking him out!

Once back inside Santiago was trying to convince Nina that they should really spend the night together when all of a sudden Medina played some Juan Luis Guerra, and if you're Dominican you naturally get up out yo' seat and dance. Me and the twins danced with another fellow Dominican, A.J. from New Jersey, and I turned around to find Nina dancing with someone new: Danilo, from Rhode Island, A.J.'s cousin.

So we're rocking out to Juan Luis and then Medina transitions into some old school dancehall reggae, and c'mon, you know what THAT music does to people. I did a quick assessment of my girls, to make sure they were OK: Lani was still with her rasta-mon and Nina had ditched Santiago for good and continued to dance with Danilo. With everyone present and accounted for I continued dancing with A.J., who was convinced that it was OK to 1) put his tongue down my throat, 2) move his hands slowly down to my crotch, and 3) rub his hard-on on me. But no, it wasn't okay. I just wanted to dance, not get molested. I made a mental note to NEVER bring the twins to Bembe ever again!

Nina and I went back outside for more air, with the full intention of going back in. But when we saw that crowd thicken we just knew it was time to go. We went to check on Lani who said she was staying with rasta-mon (more power to her...that crowd was giving me claustrophobia!) and then headed to the Kellogg for breakfast:

We had oh so much fun. Good good fun. And I'd only drank ONE red red wine and TWO mojitos. The rest of the night I was working with bottled water.

Then came Sunday.

Nina and I walked 7th Avenue looking for something yummy for brunch, and found a cool little Italian spot a block away from the Haagen Dazs, next to that school where they always hold the flea market. Mimosas were had (Drink no. 1). Then we walked through the Slope and into Crown Heights before heading over to Irene's to play with Miss Olivia:

Then Nina and I decided that, since I still had to work on Monday and she had to drive back to Mass., we weren't going to do it up that night. So I figured we'd call Lani, meet up at Reis, throw back a few cold ones and be home by 3AM. Yeah...right...because that's how my nights out always end up...

Nina and I started with a beer each (Drink no. 2); Lani was already downstairs with her rasta-mon (who I then learned was named Sean) and owning the pool table as usual. We sat around, joked, talked, just had a nice Sunday night going. Then after Sean left (he had a previous engagement to attend) Lani's pool partner (Calen?) brought up the fact that the last time he was at Reis Lani was mean to him and almost got into a fight with his friend. I reminded Lani that it was the night Canarsie Boy was with us, and we had a good laugh at how Calen's friend almost had this teeth knocked the fuck out that night.

People were coming and going and still we sat, talking and drinking. I went up for a round of tequila and more beer (Drink no. 3 & 4). Still we sat and chatted, got the jukebox going and turned Reis into a right proper night club. Then we saw some other patrons come in with pizza, and you didn't need to tell us twice that a pizza shop was open- we made a B-line for Joe's (on 5th and 11th) and ordered a pie for us and our new friends. And when we got back ordered more beer for ourselves. (Drink no. 5).

At some point in the evening, I remember Calen buying us two more rounds of tequila (Drink no. 6 & 7), and we invited him to my birthday celebration in Puerto Rico's Culebra Island (ya'll can come, too) in May. By this time we got the last call announcement from the bartender, who by now I knew as Jeff. That happens when you stay at a bar so long...you get to learn the bartender's name. And it just so happened that Calen the pool shark was friends with Jeff the bartender, and another gentleman by the name of Allen (see ladies, I finally remembered!), some artist dude. We played a few more tunes on the jukebox when the guys were asking, "What are ya'll doing now?" OK, so maybe they didn't say ya'll, but go with it, ok?

And we're all like, "well, we're going home." They were trying to find another open bar so we could all hang some more, and that's when tequila shot number three spoke through me and said, "we can all go chill at my place, but you just have to keep the noise down." So Lani hopped her bike, we grabbed a cab, made a pit stop at a deli for more libations (Drink no. 8, 9 & 10) and TOSTITOS (thanks, Nina...how did you know?) and headed to my tiny tiny apartment. All six of us. In my tiny tiny apartment.

We whipped out the cards ASAP and I was instantly transported to Alfred because we started to play asshole...I forgot how much I love that game. I was vice-pres and distinctly remember telling someone to drink "for sassing me." It was AWESOME. Then Lani was vice-pres and ordered Nina to drink "heavily." We were all drunk with power. It's the beauty of asshole.

The rest of the night, unfortunately readers, is forever locked in the vault. We all agreed and I'm a gal of my word. What I can offer you are these crazy highlights, which are more like inside jokes for me, Lani and Nina, but still, I think they are funny. And if you don't...oh well:

"Does that sombrero say 'Corona' on it?"

"Mental note: bleach couch cushions..."

"I have to cleanse this place of the sin you brought..."

"Um, ladies, what was my dude's name again?"

Needless to say, but I'm gonna say it even though I don't have to, I was two hours late for work Monday morning, Nina barely made it to Mass. in one piece but had to stop a few times to throw cold water on her face, and Lani crashed on my couch until I got home from work.

Like I said, most awesomest weekend EVER to date.

Until, that is, Lani and I go up to Mass. to visit Nina...

*smooches...seriously amazed that I remembered ANY of that*
----------------
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

My Antibodies WILL Kick Your Ass!!

Dear Cold/Flu/Allergy Germs/Bugs:

I am not a human to be fucked with. You cannot just come up in MY body and expect to set up shop unnoticed. Nuh-uh, no way, NOT GONNA HAPPEN.

All year I worked hard to build up my immune system. Somebody should've warned you: I'm not going down without a fight! I've got my ammunition at the ready, and you WILL fail.

So consider this your one and only warning. Leave now, and nobody gets hurt. Keep insisting on hindering my ability to breathe freely and there will be consequences and repercussions the likes of which will make your great-great grandchildren cry.

That is all.

Sincerely Yours,
The Jaded NYer

*smooches...not letting ANYTHING ruin my weekend*
--------------
spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.