But kindly keep my Papi's name out of your mouth.
Don't look at him, don't speak to him, STOP gossiping about him, and talking shit about his "situation" because when all is said and done, you ain't doing shit to help; you ain't puttin' in on this, MAN.
So, hazme el gran favor de callarte la fucking boca y dejar a mi viejo quieto.
I don't care if you ARE Grandma's sister... you're *DEAD* to me, oistes? *DEAD*
Don't even let me hear that you're out there spreading venom, 'cause TRUST that you have NO IDEA what venom is. HMPH!
STOP TALKING ABOUT MY PAPI... bruja loca...
*smooches...NOT okay with Germania's shit talking*
-----------
who the hell does she think she is??
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
The Day I Got THAT Call
AUGUST 7, 1999: I was just home; not sure what I was doing or if it was a weekend, weekday, evening or morning, but the phone rang, and since it was never for my ex I answered.
I could barely make out what my aunt was saying. You know how I said before that for the longest time I was the baby in the family? Even after my sister was born? Well I've always felt that way, and when I see or hear "the grown-ups" crying it shakes me to my core. My aunt is tough as nails- if you think The Jaded NYer is a scary female, you ain't met my Titi Gloris...
All I could make out through her sobbing was, "Mami's in the hospital."
My knees gave out on me just as the words were processed in my brain. My head began to hurt; those four words seemed bigger than War and Peace to me. What hospital? That primitive hospital in Los Minas??
"What happened?" I asked through my own sobs. Hell, if she was crying that meant there was something to cry about, right? If you knew my Titi Gloris, you'd agree.
My aunt went into some garbled explanation of a stroke and a coma. But, no, she's had strokes before. Coma? What coma? Do they know what a coma is in Los Minas? Would they know how to treat that? "She's gonna be alright, right?" I just needed my aunt to say yes.
"I don't know." And that killed me, because you know what? When she said that she sounded like a scared little girl worried about her mom, and I just knew.
Another stroke. A coma. What the hell? Then it hit me through my tears and vague knowledge of thoracic and neurological medicine- I should have spoken to her last month! Why didn't I call her back? What the fuck was so fucking important that I couldn't call her back?
My then-husband tried to console me: "What happened?"
"Nothing. My grandmother is sick. She'll be OK." I think maybe though I was talking to myself.
I needed to get busy. I needed to tell my guilt and fear to get lost- I had dishes to do. Grandma always told me not to leave dishes in the sink overnight. She also told me to never hold it in if I had to pee or my kidneys would fail, to always eat all the food on my plate, and to never close the door on family because they're all we've got.
So I started washing my dishes; turned on the stereo, popped in "Welcome to the Jungle" because at that moment only Axl's voice was going to calm me down, just as he has through a million other bad moments. I needed Slash's riffs to quiet the voices in my head.
Why didn't you speak to her last month??
"She's gonna be alright. She's been through this before and she's always fine."
You don't know that. You should have called her.
"She's fine."
How do you think she felt when Papi told her you called but didn't speak with her? Huh?
"She's going to be fine."
Why didn't I call her back?
Because I didn't want to. And the knowledge of that fact right there eats me up everyday. I didn't want to call her back. She hardly knew what year it was anymore, and she'd call me by my mom's name or ask me about school when I'd been out of school already for a hot minute. I didn't want to deal with it so I didn't call her back.
By the time I went to bed I had convinced myself that she would be fine. I made plans to take a week off from work and go visit her and not even care if she called me by the wrong name or thought it was 1984.
The next day Titi called to tell me the worst thing I could ever hear.
"Mami died." She cried and cried, but as the eldest daughter she also had to make arrangements and inform me that the funeral was the very next day* and we needed to fly out that night. I tried to process my thoughts: I didn't have any money for a last minute plane ticket. I hated flying. I hated the Dominican Republic. And I didn't want to spend money I didn't have on a plane I didn't want to be in to travel to a country I didn't want to visit to see my grandmother's dead body!!!
"I have to go to Santo Domingo tonight," I told my ex. "My grandmother died." I was all business- just stone coldness, even with tears flowing. I didn't let him come near me to hug me or even touch me, putting up my hands as if to say, "Touch me and you join her" so he just backed off and left me alone. I composed myself enough to dial that fucking number I should have dialed last month. Papi answered.
"'Alo?"
"Papi?" I was sobbing by now. Again. It was just a few months ago they were staying with Mami in Rockaway, and just a few months before that they were a tunnel's length away in Elizabeth. Grandma on the porch, Papi in the living room watching "The Serpent and the Rainbow" for the millionth time. It wasn't even that long ago...
"Si, mami..."
Now I was full on crying. "Papi? What happened?" I was half-confused and half-accusing. Underneath my question was the undeniably disrespectful implication: Why didn't you take care of her?
Then the unthinkable- Papi, the man who cared for all us kids as if we were his babies, who worked his ass off to feed and house us, who made sure my grandmother had all the medical attention she had needed throughout her life, who could command good behavior from all of us with just one word, the only dad I'd ever known- Papi broke down and cried on the phone.
"Yo no se, mami... yo no se."
I felt like shit. How could I have even thought of blaming the one person who had stood by her all these years. The NERVE of me!
He said it was her blood pressure; it just shot up and she never woke up.
Aneurysm, like on that ER episode. It just strikes and you never even feel it. I hope.
When the phone rang again later, I thought for a split second *she's fine!!!* but it was my mom.
"Raquel? What's going on? Nani called me all hysterical about Mami? What? Did she die?" I was so mad at her for saying it like that- just so crass and evil: What? Did she die? If you think me and my Titi Gloris are scary females, shiiit, let me introduce you to my mother...
But then I recalled that she was up in Lawrence with Mari visiting family; they didn't know.
"Yes," I managed to say, torn at having to be the bearer of THIS news. And THEN one thought just popped in my head- MARI! Where was she? My baby... this is going to kill her!
"What?" my mom asked, her voice doing that trembly-thing it did whenever she was on the verge of crying.
**********
In July of 1999 I had called Papi to see how he was enjoying retirement; how he liked his new house, his neighbors, if my room was ready. And how Grandma was doing.
"'Ta bien. Alli 'ta sentada afuera. Te La busco?" he asked me.
"No, that's okay. I'll call her later."
And a month later I never called and she was gone and today, EVERY DAY, I feel like the worst person in the Universe, because all my life she always gave me everything I could possibly need, and my selfish ass couldn't even give her a lousy call back.
I never got to say goodbye...
*besos...closing comments so that I can mourn in peace*
---------
Most of this was an excerpt from my memoir-in-progress, in memory of my grandmother, Rafaela Bermudez Ortiz. something I needed to get off my chest before it eats me alive. Sorry to Mari or Minnie if I opened any old wounds.
*In the Dominican Republic, we don't embalm the dead, requiring the funeral to take place shortly after a person passes away.
I could barely make out what my aunt was saying. You know how I said before that for the longest time I was the baby in the family? Even after my sister was born? Well I've always felt that way, and when I see or hear "the grown-ups" crying it shakes me to my core. My aunt is tough as nails- if you think The Jaded NYer is a scary female, you ain't met my Titi Gloris...
All I could make out through her sobbing was, "Mami's in the hospital."
My knees gave out on me just as the words were processed in my brain. My head began to hurt; those four words seemed bigger than War and Peace to me. What hospital? That primitive hospital in Los Minas??
"What happened?" I asked through my own sobs. Hell, if she was crying that meant there was something to cry about, right? If you knew my Titi Gloris, you'd agree.
My aunt went into some garbled explanation of a stroke and a coma. But, no, she's had strokes before. Coma? What coma? Do they know what a coma is in Los Minas? Would they know how to treat that? "She's gonna be alright, right?" I just needed my aunt to say yes.
"I don't know." And that killed me, because you know what? When she said that she sounded like a scared little girl worried about her mom, and I just knew.
Another stroke. A coma. What the hell? Then it hit me through my tears and vague knowledge of thoracic and neurological medicine- I should have spoken to her last month! Why didn't I call her back? What the fuck was so fucking important that I couldn't call her back?
My then-husband tried to console me: "What happened?"
"Nothing. My grandmother is sick. She'll be OK." I think maybe though I was talking to myself.
I needed to get busy. I needed to tell my guilt and fear to get lost- I had dishes to do. Grandma always told me not to leave dishes in the sink overnight. She also told me to never hold it in if I had to pee or my kidneys would fail, to always eat all the food on my plate, and to never close the door on family because they're all we've got.
So I started washing my dishes; turned on the stereo, popped in "Welcome to the Jungle" because at that moment only Axl's voice was going to calm me down, just as he has through a million other bad moments. I needed Slash's riffs to quiet the voices in my head.
Why didn't you speak to her last month??
"She's gonna be alright. She's been through this before and she's always fine."
You don't know that. You should have called her.
"She's fine."
How do you think she felt when Papi told her you called but didn't speak with her? Huh?
"She's going to be fine."
Why didn't I call her back?
Because I didn't want to. And the knowledge of that fact right there eats me up everyday. I didn't want to call her back. She hardly knew what year it was anymore, and she'd call me by my mom's name or ask me about school when I'd been out of school already for a hot minute. I didn't want to deal with it so I didn't call her back.
By the time I went to bed I had convinced myself that she would be fine. I made plans to take a week off from work and go visit her and not even care if she called me by the wrong name or thought it was 1984.
The next day Titi called to tell me the worst thing I could ever hear.
"Mami died." She cried and cried, but as the eldest daughter she also had to make arrangements and inform me that the funeral was the very next day* and we needed to fly out that night. I tried to process my thoughts: I didn't have any money for a last minute plane ticket. I hated flying. I hated the Dominican Republic. And I didn't want to spend money I didn't have on a plane I didn't want to be in to travel to a country I didn't want to visit to see my grandmother's dead body!!!
"I have to go to Santo Domingo tonight," I told my ex. "My grandmother died." I was all business- just stone coldness, even with tears flowing. I didn't let him come near me to hug me or even touch me, putting up my hands as if to say, "Touch me and you join her" so he just backed off and left me alone. I composed myself enough to dial that fucking number I should have dialed last month. Papi answered.
"'Alo?"
"Papi?" I was sobbing by now. Again. It was just a few months ago they were staying with Mami in Rockaway, and just a few months before that they were a tunnel's length away in Elizabeth. Grandma on the porch, Papi in the living room watching "The Serpent and the Rainbow" for the millionth time. It wasn't even that long ago...
"Si, mami..."
Now I was full on crying. "Papi? What happened?" I was half-confused and half-accusing. Underneath my question was the undeniably disrespectful implication: Why didn't you take care of her?
Then the unthinkable- Papi, the man who cared for all us kids as if we were his babies, who worked his ass off to feed and house us, who made sure my grandmother had all the medical attention she had needed throughout her life, who could command good behavior from all of us with just one word, the only dad I'd ever known- Papi broke down and cried on the phone.
"Yo no se, mami... yo no se."
I felt like shit. How could I have even thought of blaming the one person who had stood by her all these years. The NERVE of me!
He said it was her blood pressure; it just shot up and she never woke up.
Aneurysm, like on that ER episode. It just strikes and you never even feel it. I hope.
When the phone rang again later, I thought for a split second *she's fine!!!* but it was my mom.
"Raquel? What's going on? Nani called me all hysterical about Mami? What? Did she die?" I was so mad at her for saying it like that- just so crass and evil: What? Did she die? If you think me and my Titi Gloris are scary females, shiiit, let me introduce you to my mother...
But then I recalled that she was up in Lawrence with Mari visiting family; they didn't know.
"Yes," I managed to say, torn at having to be the bearer of THIS news. And THEN one thought just popped in my head- MARI! Where was she? My baby... this is going to kill her!
"What?" my mom asked, her voice doing that trembly-thing it did whenever she was on the verge of crying.
**********
In July of 1999 I had called Papi to see how he was enjoying retirement; how he liked his new house, his neighbors, if my room was ready. And how Grandma was doing.
"'Ta bien. Alli 'ta sentada afuera. Te La busco?" he asked me.
"No, that's okay. I'll call her later."
And a month later I never called and she was gone and today, EVERY DAY, I feel like the worst person in the Universe, because all my life she always gave me everything I could possibly need, and my selfish ass couldn't even give her a lousy call back.
I never got to say goodbye...
*besos...closing comments so that I can mourn in peace*
---------
Most of this was an excerpt from my memoir-in-progress, in memory of my grandmother, Rafaela Bermudez Ortiz. something I needed to get off my chest before it eats me alive. Sorry to Mari or Minnie if I opened any old wounds.
*In the Dominican Republic, we don't embalm the dead, requiring the funeral to take place shortly after a person passes away.
Labels:
A Life in Shambles,
Bitchy Karma,
Death...YUCK,
Memories,
Mi Familia,
Photos,
Revelations
Thursday, August 07, 2008
F*ck You And The Electrode You Rode In On
So word around the neighborhood is that I'm a hostile patient and that's why my doctors' appointments never go well.
I say my appointments always turn ugly because doctors are masochists who have a god complex and treat the rest of us like insignificant peons.
You already know where this is going...
I had my neuro appointment, and let me start out by saying that me and The Quack do not suspect anything too serious is up; he threw around words like "pinched nerve" and "migraines" so whatever.
The part that had me ready to knock his ass out with a left hook (besides in the interview portion of the appointment when he was speaking to me in a very condescending tone), was when he was doing the EMG and stuck these needles or electrodes or WHATEVERS in my arm and asked me to contract the muscle. And I swear to you I tried as best I could but I have weak arms- I've always had weak arms. I don't lift if I can help it... I can kill someone with one swift kick because my legs stay getting a workout, but my arms not so much.
And then he felt it was necessary to explain to me what I was doing wrong, why I was doing it wrong, and what the consequences were of my wrong doing... over and over and over... SIX TIMES he repeated that shit to me like he was a Stepford Doctor and his voice box was on a loop and I was the village idiot. I've been to college, asshole. I understood you the first time. Now SHUT UP!
I was soooooooo ANGRY by this point that I started to cry- not from pain like he thought, even though HELL YES my arm was hurting like a bitch, but from pure anger and frustration. Pain I can take because I have a high pain threshold, but anger and frustration? Man, the tears were flowing like lava on my face. I just wanted him to SHUT THE FUCK UP and let me go home.
He had six muscles he needed to study. When he got to the 6th one he asked if I wanted to stop. YES. PLEASE STOP. I'M TOO PISSED TO CONTINUE.
In the end he suspects my headaches are a result of a pinched nerve causing stiffness in my neck, pain in my lower back, etc, and:
1. I do not have carpal tunnel (thank god) but
2. my trapezius muscles were hella tight (he actually said, "Oh wow, you're in knots up here!"),
3. I have a Rx for muscle relaxers (PARTY AT MY HOUSE!),
4. I have to make an appointment with a physical therapist which will then allow me to have an MRI done,
5. he gave me a list of foods to avoid in case it's migraines (so of course I'll make sure to eat extra of everything on that list!) and
6. I need to come back next Thursday to let him put those mofo electrodes in my legs.
YES, I'm going back for another EMG... what else can I do? I need to know what's up with my broke-down body!
*smooches...with a sore motherfucking arm*
-----------
he also told me the nerves in my right arm were an "anomaly" and that I've lost some of the range of motion in my right thumb... AND? What the hell does THAT mean? ENGLISH, man, speak ENGLISH!!!
I say my appointments always turn ugly because doctors are masochists who have a god complex and treat the rest of us like insignificant peons.
You already know where this is going...
I had my neuro appointment, and let me start out by saying that me and The Quack do not suspect anything too serious is up; he threw around words like "pinched nerve" and "migraines" so whatever.
The part that had me ready to knock his ass out with a left hook (besides in the interview portion of the appointment when he was speaking to me in a very condescending tone), was when he was doing the EMG and stuck these needles or electrodes or WHATEVERS in my arm and asked me to contract the muscle. And I swear to you I tried as best I could but I have weak arms- I've always had weak arms. I don't lift if I can help it... I can kill someone with one swift kick because my legs stay getting a workout, but my arms not so much.
And then he felt it was necessary to explain to me what I was doing wrong, why I was doing it wrong, and what the consequences were of my wrong doing... over and over and over... SIX TIMES he repeated that shit to me like he was a Stepford Doctor and his voice box was on a loop and I was the village idiot. I've been to college, asshole. I understood you the first time. Now SHUT UP!
I was soooooooo ANGRY by this point that I started to cry- not from pain like he thought, even though HELL YES my arm was hurting like a bitch, but from pure anger and frustration. Pain I can take because I have a high pain threshold, but anger and frustration? Man, the tears were flowing like lava on my face. I just wanted him to SHUT THE FUCK UP and let me go home.
He had six muscles he needed to study. When he got to the 6th one he asked if I wanted to stop. YES. PLEASE STOP. I'M TOO PISSED TO CONTINUE.
In the end he suspects my headaches are a result of a pinched nerve causing stiffness in my neck, pain in my lower back, etc, and:
1. I do not have carpal tunnel (thank god) but
2. my trapezius muscles were hella tight (he actually said, "Oh wow, you're in knots up here!"),
3. I have a Rx for muscle relaxers (PARTY AT MY HOUSE!),
4. I have to make an appointment with a physical therapist which will then allow me to have an MRI done,
5. he gave me a list of foods to avoid in case it's migraines (so of course I'll make sure to eat extra of everything on that list!) and
6. I need to come back next Thursday to let him put those mofo electrodes in my legs.
YES, I'm going back for another EMG... what else can I do? I need to know what's up with my broke-down body!
*smooches...with a sore motherfucking arm*
-----------
he also told me the nerves in my right arm were an "anomaly" and that I've lost some of the range of motion in my right thumb... AND? What the hell does THAT mean? ENGLISH, man, speak ENGLISH!!!
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
And So It Begins
Dear Lord,
I know we had a falling out and I talk shit about you and your peeps and all that, but I'm hoping we can put that aside for a little bit because I have a huge favor to ask.
Lord, can you please bestow upon me some patience? Not a little bit, but, like, enough for ten people? Otherwise, a certain 13-year-old will be coming home to you sooner than expected...
Do you know this HEIFER had the AUDACITY to run up my phone bill? So instead of the $120 I normally pay a month my current Verizon bill, which was at a lovely $0.00, is now damn near $400??? OOOH K was sooooo lucky she was with her father when I found out, because if she had been home... let me not even get my pressure all up about it...
DAMMIT, $400?!?! That's an extra $280 that I have to take from somewhere else to pay this damn bill! What part of STOP USING UP THE DAYTIME MINUTES does this child of god NOT understand??
And you know where that money is coming from, right? That's right- I had to cancel my plans to see Marc Anthony, Aventura and Alejandro Fernandez in concert on the 21st, and I'm wicked pissed about it!!!!!!!!!!
*deep, cleansing breaths*
So, when Miss K brings her chatterbox ass back home from camp, guess what? I gots me a new maid. That's right- she's paying me back every extra minute she was on the phone talking about boys and anime and the latest song by The Wombats she was into that week with COLD, HARD, BACK-BREAKING, CHARACTER-BUILDING LABOR.
She'll be scrubbing floors on her hands and knees, the windows, baseboards, rearranging and cleaning out closets, cleaning and re-lining the kitchen and bathroom cabinets, scrubbing the walls, ceilings, light fixtures... you name it, she's gonna do it. At a rate of $5.00/hour.
Slave wages, you say? Ask me if I care...
If anyone is gonna run up my phone bill, it's gonna be me!
*smooches...cracking the whip because I care*
----------
or because it's hella fun... whatever works...
on a side note, I did accrue some extra charges on the text messages. so, um, certain PEOPLE who are not Verizon customers but have unlimited text messaging, please note that I do not... and that Yahoo IM is free. So bring the damn computer to the couch and IM me Y YA!
thanks, love you to bits!!!
second side note: we took Miss K to sleepaway camp on Sunday. I'm still pissed about my phone bill, but, *sniffle* it was hard to leave her there all by herself *sniffle* I hope she has fun...
I know we had a falling out and I talk shit about you and your peeps and all that, but I'm hoping we can put that aside for a little bit because I have a huge favor to ask.
Lord, can you please bestow upon me some patience? Not a little bit, but, like, enough for ten people? Otherwise, a certain 13-year-old will be coming home to you sooner than expected...
Do you know this HEIFER had the AUDACITY to run up my phone bill? So instead of the $120 I normally pay a month my current Verizon bill, which was at a lovely $0.00, is now damn near $400??? OOOH K was sooooo lucky she was with her father when I found out, because if she had been home... let me not even get my pressure all up about it...
DAMMIT, $400?!?! That's an extra $280 that I have to take from somewhere else to pay this damn bill! What part of STOP USING UP THE DAYTIME MINUTES does this child of god NOT understand??
And you know where that money is coming from, right? That's right- I had to cancel my plans to see Marc Anthony, Aventura and Alejandro Fernandez in concert on the 21st, and I'm wicked pissed about it!!!!!!!!!!
*deep, cleansing breaths*
So, when Miss K brings her chatterbox ass back home from camp, guess what? I gots me a new maid. That's right- she's paying me back every extra minute she was on the phone talking about boys and anime and the latest song by The Wombats she was into that week with COLD, HARD, BACK-BREAKING, CHARACTER-BUILDING LABOR.
She'll be scrubbing floors on her hands and knees, the windows, baseboards, rearranging and cleaning out closets, cleaning and re-lining the kitchen and bathroom cabinets, scrubbing the walls, ceilings, light fixtures... you name it, she's gonna do it. At a rate of $5.00/hour.
Slave wages, you say? Ask me if I care...
If anyone is gonna run up my phone bill, it's gonna be me!
*smooches...cracking the whip because I care*
----------
or because it's hella fun... whatever works...
on a side note, I did accrue some extra charges on the text messages. so, um, certain PEOPLE who are not Verizon customers but have unlimited text messaging, please note that I do not... and that Yahoo IM is free. So bring the damn computer to the couch and IM me Y YA!
thanks, love you to bits!!!
second side note: we took Miss K to sleepaway camp on Sunday. I'm still pissed about my phone bill, but, *sniffle* it was hard to leave her there all by herself *sniffle* I hope she has fun...
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Airing Grievences, Giving Props
Hello, hello, hello... been gone for a spell. Health issues and whatnot. I have my neuro appointment tomorrow at noon so maybe FOR ONCE a physician will be able to give me a clear answer on what the hell is going on in my head. And if he does, he deserves the Nobel Prize, okay?!?! Because lord only knows what festering horrors await for him inside my noggin...
SIDENOTE: @The F$%k It List- I see now what you meant by the dudes in "The Yard" at Wingate Park doing pull-ups and shit. I swear I thought I was in the middle of an episode of Oz. WTF?!?! Why pay for Bally's? I should just hang with these guys and *POOF* weight be gone and helloooooo muscles! For a split second, I thought I saw Melly Mel there, but it wasn't him. And, gurl, between you and me? One of those dudes- this one that had his chest all tatted up- yeah him... he coulda got it. I'm just sayin...
And now, let me tell you all about some shit that had my pressure up yesterday:
The dude in front of me at the car service, complaining that he was charged $9 for a ride that is supposed to cost $7. And wanted a $2 credit. I kid you not. Seriously went in there with a straight face and for damn near ten minutes made his case for his $2. Now, I'm not gonna say what he was, but the car service was in the vicinity of Avenue J and E16th... NYers, draw your own conclusions...
The ruskie cab driver, who did not know how to get to Wingate Park. WHY WHY WHY must I always get stuck with the cabbies who don't know where the fuck they're going? Like, isn't that their fucking job? And the more he tried to explain WHY he didn't know how to get there, the more I wanted to pull out my knife and stab him in the throat.
GOOGLE MAPS, for sending me to Midwood HS instead of Wingate Park like I asked. And no, it wasn't just my stupid ass who was out there confused. Many, many, many people were sent there by this damn search engine because we ran into them and they were all confused... it was like a conspiracy to keep us from Badu!
My landlord and his wife, for having that screaming match early Monday morning... had me scared to walk around my own apartment. I mean really, y'all old as fuck. Probably married since forever. What is there to fight about at this point? And dammit- I need to learn Arabic because whatever they were yelling about, I'm sure it was juicy!
But not to be all negative, here are a few things that get mad props from me; they should feel honored:
Ms. Badu, for putting on a good show even though I was in an ultra-mega-funky mood and was ready to break out. I realize now that it was hunger that had my panties in a bunch... I hadn't eaten since 2PM and all I'd had were two small spring rolls. My blood sugar was a bit low. My bad, but deadline week at work always makes me forget to eat!
The Webmaster, who put up with my ultra-mega-funky mood and did not let it deter his mission to stand in the presence of Ms. Badu (the love of his life). If it weren't for him and the GPS system on his phone I really would have stabbed that cabbie in the throat.
Oasis Restaurant on Rogers and Hawthorne, for hooking up the baked chicken and cocobread even though they were already closed for the evening. Maaaaaaaan, the chicken- and that jerk sauce the cook poured over it- was the fucking bomb! We ate some of it in the street like we had no home training! And it was even tastier with the yellow rice and black beans I cooked at home to go with it.
Mother Nature, for the nicest, coolest, sweetest smelling breeze that kept coming through my bedroom windows last night. I haven't slept that comfortably in a very long time. See THIS is why I don't bother to get curtains; they'll block the goodness that Mother Nature sends my way...
*smooches...fresh from some wicked awesome sleep*
-----------
and for tonight's entertainment: oops! Rick is next week; tonight is The Jungle (the jungle) The Brothers (the brothers)... who's coming with me???
SIDENOTE: @The F$%k It List- I see now what you meant by the dudes in "The Yard" at Wingate Park doing pull-ups and shit. I swear I thought I was in the middle of an episode of Oz. WTF?!?! Why pay for Bally's? I should just hang with these guys and *POOF* weight be gone and helloooooo muscles! For a split second, I thought I saw Melly Mel there, but it wasn't him. And, gurl, between you and me? One of those dudes- this one that had his chest all tatted up- yeah him... he coulda got it. I'm just sayin...
And now, let me tell you all about some shit that had my pressure up yesterday:
The dude in front of me at the car service, complaining that he was charged $9 for a ride that is supposed to cost $7. And wanted a $2 credit. I kid you not. Seriously went in there with a straight face and for damn near ten minutes made his case for his $2. Now, I'm not gonna say what he was, but the car service was in the vicinity of Avenue J and E16th... NYers, draw your own conclusions...
The ruskie cab driver, who did not know how to get to Wingate Park. WHY WHY WHY must I always get stuck with the cabbies who don't know where the fuck they're going? Like, isn't that their fucking job? And the more he tried to explain WHY he didn't know how to get there, the more I wanted to pull out my knife and stab him in the throat.
GOOGLE MAPS, for sending me to Midwood HS instead of Wingate Park like I asked. And no, it wasn't just my stupid ass who was out there confused. Many, many, many people were sent there by this damn search engine because we ran into them and they were all confused... it was like a conspiracy to keep us from Badu!
My landlord and his wife, for having that screaming match early Monday morning... had me scared to walk around my own apartment. I mean really, y'all old as fuck. Probably married since forever. What is there to fight about at this point? And dammit- I need to learn Arabic because whatever they were yelling about, I'm sure it was juicy!
But not to be all negative, here are a few things that get mad props from me; they should feel honored:
Ms. Badu, for putting on a good show even though I was in an ultra-mega-funky mood and was ready to break out. I realize now that it was hunger that had my panties in a bunch... I hadn't eaten since 2PM and all I'd had were two small spring rolls. My blood sugar was a bit low. My bad, but deadline week at work always makes me forget to eat!
The Webmaster, who put up with my ultra-mega-funky mood and did not let it deter his mission to stand in the presence of Ms. Badu (the love of his life). If it weren't for him and the GPS system on his phone I really would have stabbed that cabbie in the throat.
Oasis Restaurant on Rogers and Hawthorne, for hooking up the baked chicken and cocobread even though they were already closed for the evening. Maaaaaaaan, the chicken- and that jerk sauce the cook poured over it- was the fucking bomb! We ate some of it in the street like we had no home training! And it was even tastier with the yellow rice and black beans I cooked at home to go with it.
Mother Nature, for the nicest, coolest, sweetest smelling breeze that kept coming through my bedroom windows last night. I haven't slept that comfortably in a very long time. See THIS is why I don't bother to get curtains; they'll block the goodness that Mother Nature sends my way...
*smooches...fresh from some wicked awesome sleep*
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and for tonight's entertainment: oops! Rick is next week; tonight is The Jungle (the jungle) The Brothers (the brothers)... who's coming with me???
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