I’ve been on some real Eeyore shit lately, like depressed, head a quarter inch from the ground, woe-is-me, all of that.  It’s like I’m walking around miserable as hell but haven’t lifted one fingernail to change anything about my situation (aside: is it just me or do I feel that word has now been bastardized?  It’s used to describe everything from felonies to relationships and it’s just wrong but I digress).  Sometimes when I take a mental lunch (read: daydreaming, eyes wide open napping) I sit and think what my life is going to look like if I continue on this hard doing nothing steeze.  Let’s see

1.  I’ll still be fat (this will make me one SALTY bitch!), I think I’m about 6 months from lemon-in-your-mouth bitter right now as it is and to still be like this FIVE YEARS from now?! Chile……

2.  Still broke or hovering around that area – this would just be a general life fail.  There’s really nothing to comment on here.  Being broke ain’t cute and it’s not going to get you anything cute.  Period.

3.  Still single……I AM PETRIFIED about this.  I am not built for the single life.  I’m just not.  I like cohabitating, snuggling, affection, etc.  My name is Bambi and I like to love.  Everybody say hi.

4.  Still not using my writing talent for anything other than my own amusement.  This would be boring.  I’m easily entertained (to a point) and part of the joy of being funny is the sound of other people laughing/choking/crying at the stuff I say.

5.  Still feeling like a bad parent.  This shit needs to change immediately because this particular item isn’t about me, it’s about my child.  Plus I think I’ll get a sick satisfaction from showing people that parenthood is not a death sentence and children are not a communicable disease.

So what if I actually make some moves and change something?  I mean even be real lazy with it and change just one thing at a time instead of my usual Kamikaze method.  I’d be a sight to see, I know that much! I won’t be scared to let out all the stuff I have going on in my head.  Like, I would be a problem. Straight up.  Folks don’t even know.  I know what, I can tell you what I WILL NOT be doing:

1.  Wearing ugly shit because I’m trying to cover my rolls/fat when actually this method just accentuates them bitches even more.  Not wearing heels (a CRIME against man!!) The FIRST thing I’m buying when this weight comes off is a RIDICULOUS pair of skyscraper heels just because I can.  My celebration outfit may just be those pair of heels (oh you think I won’t do it? Try me.).

2. I mean I’m not sure if I’ll be rich by then but I’ll be damned if we’re not at least comfortable as hell.  Bills paid, credit cards clear and paid each month (full balances), savings like fresh goose down pillows with auto Febreeze in them shits.  I’m getting sleepy and calm just thinking about it.

3.  Married for years and happy as FUCK!  I would be a great wife and a great mother and I would be the house general on the low (because I still believe the man should be and should be able to carry the burden of being head of the household).  There would be much love and joy in our home, believe that.

4. The world needs to hear my mouth.  No more writing just when I get bored but rather writing to get better and better, every day with every letter.

5.  We’d be the best duo the world has every seen, killing ‘em EVERYWHERE!

This is one of the “hot button” arguments with my friends and I.  They’re always on a rant about how someone hollered at them when they were running errands or something random like that.  Now I’m not talking about the “aye guhls” that you get when you look like the first cousin of death, I mean the everyday excuse me’s that are followed by a cussing out aimed at the man who thought it would be ok to talk to you at the grocery store.  When is the appropriate time to “holler?”  If I listened to my friends, I would come to the conclusion that the perfect time would be never, thus making you a punk ass bc you didn’t have the balls to approach them.  I mean it’s like there’s some holleration clock somewhere with 60 minutes earmarked for you to try and get their attention, holler at them, be respectful, lay out a whole bunch of flattery and nevertheless STILL be turned down.  I mean who’s doing all that and expecting a positive result from it?? I wouldn’t holler either.  It’s a lose-lose situation.

And where are all these randoms coming from??  What used to be the exception is becoming the rule outside.  I hear more complaints about the random idiot outside then I do about the nice guy who gave a random compliment during the course of someone’s day.  It would seem they don’t exist, that there’s just the random idiots out there.  I think if you go around always expecting bad, you’re more apt to get bad.

I posed this question to my parents and my dad came up with the anecdote that a bitch is going to fight like a bitch, meaning no man is going to try to fight a woman period.  He said if one of his friends did something like that, he’d hit his friend in the mouth and that a real mad wouldn’t tolerate that, period.

I just hope SOMEDAY black people can start liking each other, this cynical BS is really starting to wear on me.

I’ll be back with a more concise and thought out entry later.

1.  She is a lot smaller than I am, I’ll give her 5’0 even and about a buck twenty if that much. Me, 5’2″ and over my dead body.  So while I have about two affordable stores to shop (who seem to think that Wild Africa Safari and Fcuk It are the new movements in fashion), she has a plethora of story in the fashion candyland which is the mall and the Internet to shop in (H&M anyone?).

2. I think she’s been at this for a while. I think my fashion growth has been stunted once I gained all this weight from that damn birth control (even though I was never tiny to begin with) and then somewhere along the lines I just gave up. I’ll fault sophomore year in college or even as early as sophomore year in high school. Everytime I look at my homecoming picture, I want to vomit. If only I could have appreciated that figure when I had it, I woulda milked that bitch for all it was worth! C’est la vie.

3. I think this girl got some dough. She dresses like it. I mean she could very well in mountains of debt but I don’t think about that to make myself feel better. I, on the other hand, am living paycheck to paycheck and only really staying in this job b/c a) the “economy is bad” and b) to see if they’re going to come up off some more moola for ya girl.

So those are my reasons, I don’t know what I’m going to do about them though. I DO know I was about dead when I saw her in that wrap dress this morning. I was ready to stab a bitch. This can’t be life (c) Jay-Z

So after getting over the everybody-has-a-blog thing, I decided to go ahead and write what I wanted to. I spend a LOT of time on the computer and a lot of time running my mouth about what I think. I want to be able to read my thoughts later in life when the highlight of my day is the Jello cart’s wheels squeaking down the hall. Some things have really started to get under my skin lately and I swear most of my friends are currently half deaf (or they just may not give a shit but I’d like to think myself too important for that).

What’s Hot in the Streets: Recycling Boyfriends?!

Somebody please tell me when in the history of man did this become what we’re doing now! I know of a few people who are back in relationships with their exes and the whole time the only thing I’m thinking is: is it THAT BAD that ppl are resorting to going green with their exes?? I mean I know we’re all trying to save the planet before the microwave ticker goes off but damn! Is it really that bad out here?? I could maybe see (naw I can’t, I’m lying). Maybe they would have a good reason if the past wasn’t so tumultuous and they were the ones in the wrong to cause the breakup in the first place. But of course, this is not true. All of a sudden these dudes have change enough to get QB status on the team, 1st draft pick and all. As the product of a recent breakup, I am more than aware of the iron deficiency in the brain after such a traumatic event that would cause one to make this seemingly crazy decision. I have also managed to pull myself back from the brink (last night supreme “wack” incident notwithstanding). I just don’t get it. How did he change that much? I mean really, come on guys. Dating here in Atlanta, especially for black women is, in a word, depressing. Everyone is playing these childish little games and everyone is forever 4 in the mind. Either you date the geriatric equivalent of the dirty old man or you resign yourself to becoming the selfless do gooder who fills her life up with philanthropic causes and vies for the corner office. Now I’m not saying that doing good and trying to advance up the corporate ladder are bad things rather they’re just not enough for me but I digress. What the hell is going on out here that we’re recycling boyfriends?! I mean things fall apart yes but there has to be something else out there, it just has to be. ‘Cuz I’ll be double damned if I go back to either one of my exes (yes my stellar relationship track record is off the charts with 2 officials)…..WTF?! WTF indeed.