Taking the car out of neutral...

[Excuse the foul language and the touch of rambling. I'm fed up.]

From as long as I can remember, I have always been the “neutral party” when a friend of mine has gotten into with another friend. There was one instance in high school, A messed with B’s crush. I remember this ish vividly. I told B what A did, and A stopped talking to me altogether. So who looked like the bad person? ME, though I wasn’t the one being a tool found in Home Depot. Ever since, I listen to both sides of a story, but I won't go back and tell what one party said about the other.

But, today, I’m totally rethinking this neutral shit. Recently, I was given the cold shoulder by one party, and sub-tweeted by another. It’s obvious everyone doesn’t have the same mentality I have, hasn’t been through the same shit I’ve been through, and aren’t the same age as me. During undergrad, I held a lot of ish in when I would get upset because I don’t like conflict and I am such an introvert. I have a “think first, speak second” mentality; and the times when I would lash out without thinking, I’d felt like crap afterwards. It’s just who I am. I guess I should blame my zodiac sign, but I don’t know the qualities of folk who are under my new zodiac sign, Ophucurself*.

But anyway, I’d wait until anger would really build up inside of me, and then confront someone…months later. I know, wacktastical. But as I’ve gotten older, and realizing that worry lines in my face take away from my youthful looks, I speak up. That’s what adults do. If I have a question about something that’s bothering me, I’m going to ask. These experiences have molded me into the person I am today.

So the gear has been shifted from “Neutral” to “Drive” and I’m moving on from this bullshit.

Cuz for the umpteenth time in the past 3 years of my life, I’m guilty by ASSociation and ASSumptions.

Because I chose to be a friend.

K to the…

*I don't mess with that new sign astrologically, though.

"[S]he had game cuz [s]he used to hoop in Chatham..."

Anyone who knows me knows how much I love to play ball. When I was in grammar school, I said I'd be the first girl in the NBA.

Then the WNBA was established. So, in high school, I said that I would go to the WNBA. But, my senior year of high school, I wasn't recruited by any colleges to play ball. That didn't stop me. I tried out for the women's team when I got to Bradley University, and made it! But because I wasn't recruited and I was joining the team after my classes were chosen, I couldn't make all of the practices. So, I let that go and focused on living the college life and graduating. I still played when I got a chance.

A couple of years after I graduated, Chicago got a WNBA team! I was so excited, I emailed the team, inquiring about tryouts. But, due to the expansion (I believe), they weren't having any tryouts. It seems at this point, I had finally let the hoop dream go.

Well, yesterday I found out the Sky had tryouts for the upcoming season. I was so sad that I missed them. Though WNBA players don't get paid NEARLY as much as NBA players, it has to feel good to get paid for doing something you love! Even if it is for a few months out of the year.

What if I didn't make the team? Well, at least I could say that I tried, ya know.

So, I'll continue to work on my game like I've been doing. But, please believe, the next time I hear about tryouts, I'm in there like booty hair!

K to the...

Cubicle Chronicles 5.5.11

**Happy Cinco de Mayo!**

As a child, if I woke up and didn’t say “good morning,” my grandmother would hit me with the, “I didn’t sleep with you last night!” So, it’s nothing for me to say good morning to people. It’s not that I’m a morning person…it’s just me being courteous.

So, I was walking past this consistently-rude-auss this morning when I got to work.

I said good morning.

He said nothing.

Whatever.

So I keep walking towards my desk; jacket and sunglasses still on with newspaper in hand.

NOW he wants to speak to me.

About resolving an issue that was already resolved last month.

You can’t say good morning, but you wanna talk to me about work?!

Before I even get to my desk?!

Have a seat!

K to the...

"...to the east side"

What up, y'all! I don't know what it is about the month of March, but it's definitely been March Madness for me the past three years, and I'm not talking NCAA. Well, this year's March Madness was me finding a place to stay. My lease ended on March 31st in the place unaffectionately known as "Baby Stateway Gardens" in the luxurious South Shore neighborhoood. I was there a total of three years, and thought I'd be there longer than that. However, I knew in May 2010, I wasn't renewing my lease. Lemme tell y'all why I didn't renew my lease.

• I dealt with mice…TWICE! And it wasn’t during the time of the year when mice usually appear when they are trying to find some cover from the cold. NAW, these bastards were around when it was warm. Neither Mickey nor Ben's names were on my lease, yet they were up in there like they paid rent.


• I dealt with roaches. Not so much in my apt, but in the COMMON AREAS of the building. Someone moved out of their apt and there were roaches all over the damn building. For me to have to scurry pass the elevators to avoid seeing a roach is just...ugh. Call me "bourgeois" all you want. I grew up in a house where I only dealt with spiders and ants. I don't do roaches!


• There were about 9 cats that roamed the parking lot of my building. There was a man that came out everyday and fed those cats; even during a thunderstorm (I seent with my own 4 eyes). He was so attached to the cats, he even noticed when one went missing. These gangsta auss felines would also walk on folk's cars in the lot, including mine. I had a piece of a cheddar biscuit chillin on my windshield wiper one day and was befuddled. I'd even had paw prints on my windshield.


• I dealt with people who can’t park. There are two lines your car should be parked in between. I was parked between two people who didn’t understand this concept. If my hips were wider and thighs were bigger, I wouldn’t have been able to get in and out of my car everyday. Also, someone parked in MY spot, one day, so I was forced to park in theirs. However, they left ME a note saying to show some respect. What?


• I witnessed two carjackings in a 10 minute period from my living room window…AFTER hearing gunshots fired at a police officer. I saw the whole thing, picked the guy out of a line-up AND testified before the grand jury. Yep, I’m a snitch.


• Three of my visitors have had their cars vandalized.

And all of this happened during the 3rd year of me staying there. So yeah, it was time for me to go. I have moved on up (well, down to the first floor) to the East Side (literally, east of Chicago). And I love it. So hopefully, the only pests I'll be writing about are the ones I see OUTSIDE through my patio door. :-)

K to the...

*insert title here*

I joined a new gym on 1/31 and was given a free body assessment yesterday.

Effed me up!!!

The only scales I really trust are the one's at my doctor's office, and digital scales. I definitely don't trust scales at the gym, and yesterday confirmed why. According to the scale yesterday, I've gained 8 lbs in the past month; even though I've been playing bball and working out way more often. This doesn't make sense to me. And we won't even talk about the measurements.

So I decided, eff the numbers! I'm just going to continue my workout routine of cardio, lifting, and basketball. I'm comfortable with my range of 135-140...but hearing 147 yesterday? Psssh! Ain't no way!

I have another assessment in 3 months. Aside from Mardi Gras, there won't be any moments where I just KNOW I'm going indulge in decadent cuisine and copious amounts of liquor! Hey, I'm just being honest! :-)

This whole getting older thing sucks, sometimes. But grandmother always say "Just keep living."

K to the...

P.S. I found out my biceps are about 10 inches. Whenever y'all wanna buy tix to the gun show *kisses biceps* let me know!

*sigh*

People have been crossing the line lately when it comes to my relationship. I mean, putting their nose all up in my business when I didn't ask. And this morning, I got even more irritated.

If I'm on wikipedia reading about a celebrity and their wedding picture is showing in their biography...that doesn't mean I'm thinking about marriage.

If I'm googling Usher's tattoos, tryna get a closer look at them...that doesn't mean I'm looking at pics of my boyfriend.
**He doesn't even look like Usher. And why would I google photos of my boyfriend...at work?**

I'm currently searching for an apt because I refuse to renew my lease in Baby Stateway Gardens...that doesn't mean that we are moving in together.

If we spend a splendiferous weekend together...that doesn't mean I'm, now, engaged. Excuse me if my great-grandmother's ring (which doesn't look sheeit like an engagement ring) fits better on my left hand's ring finger.

I don't know if he goes through this insinuating shullbit that I go through, but it seems like I do, on a weekly basis! I'm tired of it. It's like maugs are reaching!

Well, ya arms are too short to box with God...or something like that.

I'm extremely happy, and I don't feel I have to constantly tell everyone that. The ones I'm close to know how I feel about him; he knows how I feel about him. He and those people are the only ones that matter.

So, the moral of the story this blogpost?

MIND YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!

Worry about YOUR relationships...or lack of.

Use that button at the upper right hand corner of your phone labeled "Fall Back,"* Jabroni!

K to the...

*Borrowed :-)

"You think y'all kick it...but, boy we puntin..."

What up, folk! Time for another installment of "This Time...Last Year..."

If you know me, then you know that New Orleans is like my favorite city to visit. I first experienced New Orleans during Mardi Gras in 2009. I had so much fun, it was automatic that we would be down, again, in 2010. We made plans, but those plans had fell through about two weeks before the trip.

Disappointed wasn't EVEN the word!

Exactly a year ago, today, the Saints won their first Super Bowl...and one week later was Fat Tuesday. After seeing how CRAZY it was in New Orleans the night of the championship, and after much coercion from my cousin hitting me with the "Nawlins or Bust"...we scrambled to make this trip happen.

And we did!

Six days later, at 12am on a Saturday, we hit the road in the rental which we christened "Lady Ratchett".

Fifteen hours later, including a two hour nap at a rest stop (excitement can only give you so much energy), we made it to Baton Rouge, LA. Since we decided at the last minute to go...and it was a week before Mardi Gras...we were able to get a hook-up on a room in BR. And let me tell y'all...no matter how fast you are going, BR is ALWAYS an hour from New Orleans.

Saying "We had a blast!" is an understatement!

• Went back to our favorite restaurant, Ralph & Kacoo's.
• We gave ourselves a tour of the 9th Ward (which looked like a ghost town)
  
  
• We met new friends thanks to my "Illinois" hoodie. (No, we don't know who those people are behind us)

• We hit up the Zulu Parade

• Maxed a couple of po' boys

• Killed a "WTF" daquiri. You might be asking, "WTH is a 'WTF'?" Well, it's thirty-two ounces of pure inebriation...THAT'S WTF it is!





• We had one...four many Hand Grenades

However, I think the highlight of the trip was getting kicked off Bourbon Street when the clock struck midnight on Ash Wednesday...AFTER doing the cupid shuffle in the middle of Bourbon Street!



Well, it's almost that time. Fat Tuesday is in March, this year...and please believe, we down there again!

Third time's a charm, right?

K to the...