In Case You're Looking For Me

A lot of you forget to check my site for appearances, and then pull the whole "you had a reading?" schpiel after the fact. Well here's a gentle reminder that I'm actively booking events where I host and/or read, and you need to be in the audience cheering me on.

How can you say no to that face?

That is all.

*smooches...gearing up for a busy season*
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it's about to be LOCO!

So This Is Mavi, My iPhone.

I know, I know, you're reading that title like "OH MY GOD, THE WORLD IS ENDING, RAQUEL HAS AN IPHONE!" but relax. I've not been fully infiltrated by the Robot Army just yet.

Of course my lock screen features my babies!

Let me explain how this all happened...

A few months ago I went into the Verizon store because I wanted to get a tablet or something like it, that I could use when hosting events in order to update various social media platforms with information about said events. The sales rep looked at me all crazy and was all "Why don't you just get a smartphone?" I, in turn, listed all the reasons I didn't want one, including cost (which was my number one reason!).

The rep proceeded to lay out all the costs for me, and it turned out the iPhone he was offering wouldn't cost me more than what I was already paying with my regular phone, plus the phone itself was free. "And why carry three different devices (iPod, phone, tablet) when you can just carry one?"

He was making so much sense; how could I pass up the deal?

So now I have an iPhone. And an Instagram account. And game apps that suck the battery life out of my phone. I can never leave the house without a charger. And the amount of selfies saved in my camera is almost criminal. But I promise, I'm not one of these phone-obsessed zombies; I put mine away and just LIVE sometimes.

At least for now.

*smooches...checking IG as I type*
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I'm so fascinated by what people upload to Instagram. Sometimes it's cool, but sometimes, SOMETIMES you hit gold and find that person who is posting pure trash. I live for that person!

Waiting To Excavate: A One-Scene Play

Friend: Do they make meds for "Shiftless Negro Syndrome?"
Me: No. Scientists are too busy trying to control our wombs to worry about that.
Friend: I need them up out my uterus. They can work on that.
Me: All the way out.

Me: *walks into uterus, sees a bunch of scientists, clergy, and politicians* "Umm, hello? Do I know you? How'd you get in here?"
Them: "The door was open..."
Me: BULL. SHIT.
Them: "It's for your own good"

Friend: *smh*

Me: (as Bernadine) "GET YO SHIT... GET YO SHIT, AND GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Friend: O_O!!! You know she set shit on fire after that.
Me: Mhmm. I'm OK with that. I already had babies.

*smooches...ready to bring this show to Congress*
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they'll give me the floor, right?

30 Days of Yoga: A Healthy Jaded Update

So I'm back at it again, trying to take charge of my health and wellness, and I thought I'd start with something that always made me feel good when I did it: yoga.

One day she'll be my personal yogi.

I know a few of my friends are like "Nah, B" when it comes to yoga but for me it helps build my physical, mental, and spiritual being.

Sorry if that got all new-agey. Hope I didn't get any on you.

I started my 30-day challenge on Saturday with a nice gentle flow video by Tara Stiles on The YouTube (because I overslept and missed class), and it wasn't what I wanted to be doing but it did feel good to do it. On Sunday, however, I did make it to the studio (Yoga People in Brooklyn), and first of all SOMEONE FAINTED while we were still in tadasana (mountain pose) practicing our yogic breath. Part of me wanted to leave. Also, I was sweating the minute I got in there and already knew downward dog was going to be a problem, what with my wet palms unable to keep me steady on the mat.

But the good parts were the chanting and super tiny talk the instructor started with; something along the lines of seeing yourself in others in order to be more understanding, patient, and compassionate--all things with which I need help. So it was good to receive that message. Another plus was having options and modifications for each pose. I was never made to feel like I shouldn't be in the class, even though at every step I wanted out because my stupid body won't do what I say. The instructor was great about coming over to help correct your pose and gently guide you into a more challenging one if she felt you were ready.

Fainting girl aside, I was able to fight through the "I'm the fattest, blackest chick in here" fear and just complete the class to the best of my ability. Fuck all those hos, I was there for me.

And although I'm writing this from home because I had to take a personal day because OUCH ALL OF MY MUSCLES ARE AWAKE AND THEY'RE ANGRY, I'll be at the noon class for Day 3.

This is finna be a long ass month...

*smooches...wishing I could just be fat and happy*
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unfortunately that combination doesn't work for me.

SON. I Received A Letter From The IRS.

When I say that, upon seeing a THICK envelope in the mailbox from the IRS, my heart was in my throat, I'm not exaggerating. My first thought was SHIT. I'M BEING AUDITED. THEY'RE GONNA SEIZE MY MONEY! Which, of course, is ridiculous because I'm worth about five pesos.

Still, a letter from the IRS can't be good, right? Not a thick envelope--that must mean they needed a bunch of pages to tell me how badly they're about to fuck up my life.

Except that's not what it said.

Y'all. There was an error in my favor. I overpaid the government in 2011.

THEY ARE SENDING ME A REFUND.

Happy Friday, my good people. It's raining freakin' pennies from freakin' heaven!

*smooches...already spending that money in my head*
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don't worry, The Voices and I are spending responsibly :)