WTFox? Adventures in Christineland...

How To Spot A Fake

2010-04-29T16:10:00.000-07:00

“YO STOP STALKING MY PAGE WIT UR NUT BUSH CITY LIMITS ASS!” -@silverbakgurila

To paraphrase a friend of mine, a bored motherf*cker with an axe to grind is a dangerous thing. In case you’ve been living under a rock for the past 2 weeks or were actually out living your life & missed it, I’ve been dealing with my first stalker! Yay me, right? Wrong! Some people theorize having a stalker as being a result of “doing something right”. I strongly disagree. I was just unfortunate enough to have some loonytunes fucktard latch onto my teet. It has been uber-annoying, which I’m sure is the goal of said stalker…to annoy me. I guess if you can’t get attention from doing something positive, you’ll get it anyway you can take it.

It all started Thursday (April 15^th) when I received a follow from an individual named @tamara_wiggins. The tweet simply said “Hey girl.” When I looked at the page, I noticed the background was wallpapered with my friend’s business logo and the avatar was of two other people that I know & NONE of these people are named Tamara. I looked at the person’s timeline & saw that they were tweeting another friend of mine. I alerted both he (I’m like, dude! You’re talking to a ghost!) & my friend ( the one whose logo had been pilfered.) I also asked my followers to please report that page as spam. The fakie got his boxers all in a bunch (we have reason to believe that one of the fake profile creators is a dude!) and fakie proceeds to tweet that I too am spam and to report my page. Of course, the fake profile had less than 1/10^th of the followers that I have, so him crying spam fell on deaf ears.

Saturday afternoon I received a phone call from an acquaintance in a completely different time zone letting me know that a fake “Steen” page had been created & this person was hitting folks up. I get home & see this fake page is following 90 of the people that I follow. I reached out to everyone individually & told them to report this page & the page was suspended within minutes. Over the next few days I had more fake pages pop up than I can count. Because of an ongoing investigation, I can not discuss the details of where we are in the process of apprehending the individuals involved in this or the real reasons behind why this is all happening but trust me, it’s something out of a damn movie.

Up until one week ago I felt there was no need to make my Twitter page private. I mean after all, I never say anything that I don’t mind the world knowing. You never know who’s watching, and there are too many services out there that extract information from Twitter and put them in a nice little package, making stalking that much easier. (Like http://search.twitter.com, which allows you to see all Tweets between individuals.) I quickly realized that the fake was also searching my name via Twitter’s search feature so that he could see all tweets going to me & any RT’s from unlocked pages. I’ve always considered myself to be pretty online cautious. I NEVER tell the exact location of where I’m going to be. If you do this in 2010, you’re pretty naïve. I will mention certain details after I’ve left a certain location. You never know…always better to be safe than sorry. I will admit, it was a little jarring to see that a person had taken the time to go through my Twitpics & had created a page using a picture of my friend’s boyfriend as the avatar and the wallpaper was of a hotel room I had Twitpic’ed in early March. I had just posted a Twitpic of a breakfast burrito I made that morning, giving them access to my entire Twitpic album containing over 200 pictures.

So, my page is private and I am very cautious of who I accept, who I decline, and who I just flat out report as spam. I’ve become quite the fake profile sleuth, if I do say so myself! I’m going to show you now a few folks that have sent me follow requests & how you too can quickly spot a fake page.

Let’s take a look at @purplegurl225’s page (http://twitter.com/purplegurl225.) The first thing I notice is that “her” avatar isn’t actually her. It’s Meagan Goode. Some people don’t like to use their own pics on Twitter & prefer anonymity so that doesn’t automatically mean this person is a fake. However, “she” has 30 followers, is following 74 and…*drum roll* almost every single person “she” has tweeted in the last 3 days has since deleted their own Twitter page! One person that she continues to tweet has never responded. He more than likely blocked her & she’s tweeting the air. #FAIL

Our next fake page comes straight out of “Chicago”. @I_Be_Jiggin (http://twitter.com/I_BE_JIGGIN) is following 173 people. How’d he find me, I wonder. He’s not following anyone that I follow or that follows me. He never tweets anyone…just spends his days tweeting himself since he created his page on the 15^th (the same day all the fake pages started springing up.) He’s not following any of his favorite rappers but he is following the @claudiajordnfan page which is an automatic dead giveaway AND he’s following @pregnancy_mirac. Really, Mr. Jiggin? You want to stay up on all the latest news pertaining to the miracle of pregnancy? Curious about gestation & Braxton Hicks & mucus plugs? FAKE FAIL!

Next we have @daguelito. (http://twitter.com/daguelito). He’s new to Twitter. He has only tweet under his belt…”el fuego del caribe!” He’s the fire of the Caribbean? Really? Then why is he from Berlin? My geography is a little rusty, but last time I checked the Caribbean and Europe were pretty far from each other. FAIL

Our next fake @classwitcash (http://twitter.com/classwitcash) just sent me a follow request. She’s been on Twitter since September but she’s only tweeted 125 times. I got thrown in Twitterjail TWICE during the Grammy’s for tweeting DOUBLE that in 2 hours! She has 33 followers which is amazing to me b/c someone so attractive would have more followers just based off of that. She’s following 17 (none of which are following me or vice versa) so I’m not sure how she found me. Oh, and her tiny little av gives her away. It’s the same size an av would be if you took it from a private page that you weren’t following. Nice try.

Next up is @Misslouiegirl22 (http://twitter.com/Misslouiegirl22). She has been on Twitter since April 23^rd. She only talks to people who will never respond. She has 119 followers & is following 909. She’s on @Msdasgelle’s list called “The Real People”. So, by default, @MsDashelle (http://twitter.com/MsDashelle) is fake too. @MsDashelle created her page on the 23^rd less than an hour after this other mudduck created hers. Nice try ladies! @nikubushicom (http://twitter.com/nikubushicom) created hers on the same day within the same hour. Did 3 friends all decide to create Twitter pages on the same day at the same time & all list each other? Nope. It’s one hobbieless hoe creating multiple pages. TRIPLE FAKE FAIL.

Anyone who has time to spend creating fake Twitter profiles all day long & having faux conversations with other fake profiles & celebrities that will never acknowledge them clearly wasn’t hugged enough as a child. (Excluding the hugs from that “uncle” that they were warned not to spend any time alone with.) This person obviously doesn’t have real friends or a job because who opts to spend THIS much time talking to phantoms until the wee hours of the morning, missing out on social gatherings with real people & risking arriving tired at the office in the morning? This person probably doesn’t get any exercise because they’re online ALL DAY. So, be on the lookout for an ugly, tired, unpopular, out of shape individual with carpal tunnel. If you spot them, PLEASE call the authorities right away. DO NOT attempt to apprehend them yourself. They will steal your Twitpics & annoy the shit out of you too! And if you're the person who has been trying to penetrate my fortress, you're going to have to try a lot harder to get in boo-boo. Good luck! :)

I Hurt (Kathy Ireland's) Feelings

2010-03-14T22:54:00.000-07:00

Last night I was luxuriating in front of the fireplace at “The Batcave”. While flipping channels, I happened upon HSN and saw Badgley Mischka. I know...I was confused too. So I put 2 & 2 together and figured out that if they were on HSN they must be designing for HSN (I know, I’m pretty quick.) My heart began to flutter like I had a hummingbird flying around inside my chest. I grabbed my Mac & tweeted “Badgley Mischka is designing for HSN? **falls down stairs**” Badlgley Mischka has designed for Beyonce (she was wearing them in her “Sweet Dreams” video), and was worn on the red carpet by Latifah & others last Sunday at the Academy Awards. (Their gowns are always seen on the Oscars' red carpet.) The line is carried at Neiman’s & Saks and various high-end retailers globally. I immediately went to HSN.com, only to be disappointed by what I saw. I was hoping to uncover gorgeous gowns that would fit this Recessionista’s budget. Instead what I found was a god-awful off the shoulder maxi dress that looked like the hostess at On The Border should be wearing it, horrible pairs of granny shoes & other disgusting looking items that people in the Midwest will order (along with 4 lbs of Emeril's mac & cheese and a Colts Slanket) just to say they own something from Badgley Mischka. I then tweeted “Badgley Mischka’s HSN line #womp. It looks like Kathy Ireland’s Walmart line threw up on it.” Fast forward to 24 hours later. After awaking from a long slumber this evening, I logged on to Twitter & checked my @replies and I see one from Kathy herself from 5 hrs ealier:

**double blink** I responded “Sorry for confusing Walmart with Kmart. :/”

Now, I have several issues. The 1^st is with "celebs" suffering from what I like to refer to as “Stacey Dashitis.” As you may know, Stacey frequently searches her name on Twitter and responds to people that have mentioned her name. I find that hilarious. Who has the time to search their own name on Twitter? Oh, I know. Out of work actors & washed up models. It’s a sad day when you say to yourself “Hmmmm…I wonder if anyone is talking about me” and you then proceed to search your own name. My 2^nd issue is that I said the BM line looked like Kathy’s line threw up on it. Theoretically, that would be an insult to BM’s line, not Kathy’s. Their line resembles what I imagine is the regurgitation of her now defunct line (which I’ve never even seen) but I’m sure was hideous because it was sold in the same place where you could buy a box of tampons, a loaf of bread, a 10 lb bag of Tidy Cat and Mariah’s “Glitter” DVD & you could pay for the bread with your EBT card. Kmart, Walmart. Tomato, tomahto. I’ve never shopped at either place and that’s for a very good reason. So, to Ms. Ireland I want to publicly apologize for insulting your defunct clothing line by suggesting that it was carried at Walmart when it was actually sold at Kmart. Kmart is suffering sales-wise, closing nearly 65 stores last year, while Walmart remains the number one retailer in the world. So by implying that her discontinued line was carried at Walmart, I was actually paying it a compliment.

Death To Emo Tweeters

2010-02-12T09:34:00.000-08:00

I know that Twitter is the place where people come to overshare. We share what we had for lunch, how bad a co-worker’s breath smells, and even details about body functions (“when did I eat corn?) But lately, I’m noticing an increase of emo tweets, and not just from women. If you’ve been guilty of tweeting any of the following on more than one occasion, please cease & desist effective immediately.

1. Needy Tweets: “It’s so cold. I wish I had someone to cuddle with. ;(” The same person who tweets this will also get mad when a random follower replies “Hey ma. Want me to come over?” Not the attention you wanted? Welp, you opened that door.

2. Tweets of Distress: “OMG! I just cut my finger. There’s blood everywhere!” Why are you Tweeting with a bloody finger? Go clean that up! I don’t believe you anyway. But I’m sure a Twitpic that looks like it was taken at a crime scene will soon follow to prove me wrong. “I have a fever of 103. Dizzy...” Ok, if your brain is baking, why are you tweeting? When I’m sick, the last thing on my mind is notifying all of my followers about it in real-time. I can understand tweeting “I’m not feeling well. Going to lay down.” And then actually going to lay down & returning when eggs can no longer be fried on your head. But no one needs constant updates while your face is in a toilet. I’ll never understand this. I’ve seen people Tweet from the hospital. Why are we getting constant updates from your deathbed? I’m not a doctor. I can’t help you! If you want to talk to strangers about your various medical issues, go to a message board on Web MD. I get it...you need constant attention. Get a puppy. Actually, don't. Because then we'll have to hear about him pooping in your shoe.

3. Subliminal Tweets: Any Tweet that ends with “you know who you are!” sends me into a tizzy. Why don’t you just take direct shots? Those of us who this is not directed at are now getting hit by stray bullets. Then, God forbid anyone should ask you who or what you’re talking about. The response is either “nobody” or “never mind” or my favorite…no response at all! You threw this out there because you wanted someone to ask. Well, I’m asking. So stop being so damn passive.

4. Billy Badass Tweets: “I just finished cussing this fool out at the Taco Bell drivethru!” Good for you. I hope you realize he spit in your Enchirito. “I wish this &%$# would call me one more damn time!” Girl, bye. You aint finna do nothin’. Showing Twitter what a badass you are doesn’t make you look like a tough guy. It makes you look like a crazy person with no self control. Chances are, the person this tweet is directed at isn’t even following you on Twitter so why are we being subjected to your threats? Text them that shit, since you’re so hard.

5. Lovesick Tweets: These are usually shoved down our proverbial throats via some corny ass song lyric. “Tell me how I’m supposed to breathe with no air?” I don’t know. But I bet if you were out of air you’d tweet about that too.

6. Reaching Out…But Not Really: “I’ve been crying all night. My eyes are swollen. I don’t know how to fix this.” Again, you’re opening the door to questions that you don’t want to answer. You don’t need Twitter. You need a diary. Now, I can totally understand feeling down & hopping on Twitter hoping that a little entertainment will cheer you up. But if your current state can't be described in 140 characters and my timeline is now filled with how “numb” you feel, you need to log off & thaw out.

7. Rants Nobody Gives A Shit About: Last time I checked, Twitter was a social networking site. It’s kind of hard to be social or network when every other day you’re tweeting about how misunderstood you are and about how little you care about your haters or people who aren’t “real”. “..and if you can’t see that about me then unfollow me cuz I don’t need you in my life!” Twitter isn’t therapy. That’s what blogs are for. And vodka. And Zoloft. You’re limited to 140 characters for a reason. Some of y’all need way less than that.

Here’s a tell tale sign that your followers no longer give a shit about your emo tweets: If you tweet “I just got hit by a car & my leg is hanging on by a tendon” and no one responds, you’ve lost your captive audience. You’ve been annoying all of your followers for some time. Stop crying wolf all the damn time & maybe someone will actually ask you if you’re ok. After all, that is your main objective right?

Issues!

2010-02-11T16:04:00.000-08:00

My letter in response to the article found here: http://tinyurl.com/ykamlgv

I just finished reading this steaming pile that you call a response to the insensitive comments that John Mayer made in his Playboy Magazine interview. What concerns me most about your “response” is that in light of his racist, sexist & degrading comments, all that you seem to be concerned about is that your chances of ever getting to ride his David Duke are now out the window. It’s pretty clear to me that you’re insecure and that you have issues with your blackness that started WAY before this article leaked yesterday. First off, my legs did NOT snap shut when I read his interview. They were NEVER open to John Mayer! I don’t find his sophomoric fart humor or “off beat” TMZ sound bytes intriguing or humorous. He’s made a name for himself (outside of his music) by being a complete douche nozzle. I’m only familiar with 2 of his songs & I couldn’t hum a single bar to either one if Jigsaw had me chained to a water heater. So you’re clearly delusional if you think millions of black women have been checking for John Mayer like that. Second, you’re placing blame on John Mayer for your own feelings of invisibility whenever you enter a room full of white men. Honey, it’s not John Mayer’s fault that white men don’t find you attractive. It’s not his fault that you’ve never in your 22 years been “hit on” by a white man. It’s YOUR fault. YOU need to stop looking for scapegoats and start looking within. I’ve never met you in my life and I can tell just by reading this article that you’re self-loathing. So I can only imagine that you exude this while in social settings. When you go out, your mind is already made up that none of the white boys will approach you and I’m sure your body language & overall aura makes you both unapproachable & undesirable. I’ve dated men of every color. I guess you can say my heart is Benetton too. And them approaching me had nothing to do with how I was dressed or how I look. I’m fun, and confident, and smart & not desperate. I don’t go to social gatherings for sexual validation. I don’t feel ugly or unsexy in a room full of any race of people. I couldn’t care less if I get approached by men when I go out. I’m confident & happy with myself. And when men see women that exude these qualities, they’re intrigued by it. As soon as you begin to realize that you’re your own worst enemy, you can stop blaming douchebags that would never give you the time of day anyway for your own shortcomings. You grew up “hearing” that black is beautiful. You grew up “knowing” people who felt this. But you clearly don’t feel it yourself. How do you expect anyone else to think you’re beautiful if YOU don’t believe it yourself? Work on yourself La Toya and stop blaming others.

Ooops! I Did It Again!

2010-02-06T22:58:00.000-08:00

Ok, so I was dating this guy years ago. We’d been seeing each other for a few months exclusively. He lived about 30 miles from my house so to be fair we’d trade off on whose house we’d spend time at. This one particular weekend he was off Friday & Saturday so he came down to my house to stay with me. He had to work Sunday morning so he brought his work clothes with him so that he could get up Sunday morning, get dressed, and head to work.

Saturday night/Sunday morning we were in the bed knocked out. I was in that serious REM when I hear “OH SHIT.” I woke up startled. “What’s wrong?” I asked. He didn’t say anything. My heart was beating fast. I fumbled for the light on the nightstand. I looked over and he was just sitting up in the bed. “What’s wrong?” I asked again. “I peed in your bed.” he said. I’m thinking I know I didn’t hear that right. “What?” I asked. By now I’m FULLY awake. “I peed in your bed!” he repeated. “Well GET UP!” I shouted. I was a little irritated by him being so casual about having just urinated in my bed! I sprung to my feet & snatched back the sheets. Sure enough his pants were saturated and so were my sheets! He slowly got up and walked to the bathroom. I was tired and didn’t appreciate being awakened by someone yelling “OH SHIT!” But I took into consideration that he was probably VERY embarrassed and I didn’t want to treat him like a leper. I told him it was ok, these things happen sometimes. I remember even telling him about the time that I had a “pee dream”. I had this dream that I was at The White House and needed to use the bathroom. I remember walking down all these confusing hallways until I found this grand lavatory with golden sinks & toilets. I sat down to pee and the warmth is actually what woke me up. Of course I was a 9 year old girl when this happened, not a 27 year old man. But I digress. I pulled the wet sheets & the soaked egg crate off the bed. I rolled up the crate & stuffed it into the kitchen trash. That crate actually saved my mattress. I put on some fresh sheets and after he was all cleaned up, we got back in the bed & went back to sleep.

Fast forward to a few weeks later. SAME scenario. We’re asleep again at my place. It’s late night/early morning. I’m KNOCKED out. And I hear “Not again!” I woke up and he says, “I peed in your bed again.” This time supportive Christine was not in the building. “WTF is wrong with you!” I yelled. It was the 1^st thing that came out of my mouth. I’d gone to Target a few days before to get a new egg crate & they didn’t have queen size so this time the only thing between his wet pants & my mattress was a soaked sheet. I was FURIOUS. Once again, I snatched the sheets off and he just stood there watching me as I scrubbed the mattress with a sponge & Pine-Sol in my yellow rubber gloves. I couldn’t believe that I had been awakened out of my slumber AGAIN because this grown man couldn’t control his fluid intake before bed and I’m having to flip my mattress over at 3:00 in the morning. I asked him if this had ever happened to him before and he swore that it hadn’t. I actually Googled “adult bed wetting” to see if I could make some sense of this. The search results said he either had a prostate issue or some psychological issue or he just needed to stop drinking beverages before bed. Whatever the case was, it was a huge turn off. I didn’t give him a 3^rd chance to pee in my bed. We ended pretty soon thereafter.

Why We Can't Be Friends

2010-02-06T10:33:00.000-08:00

Dear ______________:

I remember the last time we spoke. Things had changed between us. Actually, they’d probably been changing for a while and I was just ignoring the signs. I was ignoring what I knew deep down inside was the inevitable. I wanted things to be like they were at the beginning. I guess I was grasping at straws. You were pulling away. You were growing distant. And I felt it. So I held on tighter, which only made you pull away even more. Our daily contact eventually dwindled down to no contact at all. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which leads us to where we are today.

As you can probably imagine, I’m shocked to be hearing from you again after all this time. If one were to use the analogy of me having a wall built around me, I’d retort that you were one of the masons on the project. I’m a little more guarded now because of you. I’m a little less trusting now because of what you put me through. Sure the wounds have healed but the scars are still there. And now after all this time has passed you want to be my friend? Now you want to be all chatty as if nothing ever happened? You think you can just step back into my life as if nothing ever happened & pick up where we left off? Do you have the attention span of a goldfish? Have you forgotten everything that quickly? Or are you hoping that I have? Well, I haven’t. And I’m a little insulted that you think I have. Seeing your name pop up in my inbox brings back too many memories, both good & bad. But mostly bad. I remember how things were the last time we spoke. I remember being in a place emotionally that I didn’t like being in. I remember feeling insecure & paranoid & sick to my stomach. I remember not being able to eat or sleep and crying. A lot. I remember the months & years that went by when I tried to avoid certain songs, certain movies, even certain foods because they reminded me of you. And truth be told, I didn’t WANT to remember you. And guess what? It worked. I managed to suppress thoughts of you for so long, I actually stopped caring & I forgot about you. I stopped wondering what really happened. I stopped asking myself “how could someone who says they care about someone treat them like this?” I filled my life with people and things that make me happy.

My life is great now and I’m in a great place. And now you want to know what I’ve been up to? Now you want to catch up? If you wanted to be a part of my life, you should have stayed in it. You chose to remove yourself. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in bringing you up to speed. You don’t deserve to know what I’ve been up to. I will never be one of your homegirls. I will always be a woman whose heart you broke. I accepted this a long time ago. Now it’s your turn. Time has passed and you realize how much better your life was with me in it. Well, that same time has helped me realize how much better mine is without you in it. I’d be a fool to let you back into my life and give you another chance to do more damage. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve been staying away from guys like you. I’d be a masochist if I let you back in. I’m sorry, but we just can’t be friends.

-Me

I Waited 2 Years For THIS?!

2010-02-01T11:10:00.000-08:00

On August 9, 2007 I got my boobs done. As the story goes, I was working for a company and got laid off the same day I was going to give notice. I had two weeks until my new job was going to start and a wad of cash in my hand so a good friend of mine convinced me to go for it. He knew how much I wanted to get this done. I remember being at his house not too long before that showing him my doctors website & pictures of some of his work. So, without even having a consultation I called the doctor that I’d been stalking for nearly 1 year and scheduled the surgery. I paid for it in full the same day. (I don’t recommend that anyone do this without having a consultation first, but I was 100% confident about my doctor. And I’m a little impulsive sometimes. Don’t judge me.) So, I had my surgery. Everything was GREAT. Months later I wrote my doctor a letter telling him about how happy I was with my surgery. His wife read my testimonial and asked me if I’d be interested in being featured on their site. As long as I didn’t have to show off the girls I was ok with it.

So, in April 2008 I had my photo shoot. I met with a great photographer in Hollywood who took some amazing shots. I was able to keep a CD. (He shot 5 rolls total so the CD had approximately 500 photos.) After my shoot, I contacted my doctor’s office & was told that my pictures would be featured on the site sometime in the fall. I was so excited! Month after month I kept checking the site and there were no pics. I sent a few emails over the course of the 2 years asking for an update & was told that some of the other pictures that were up were old as well. Last Thursday I was informed that I would be up in February! Here we are TWO years later. The pics are finally up today, February 1^st, 2010. Here are my issues:

1.) There was some paraphrasing done on my bio. I see grammatical errors & y’all know I be speakin’ proper & shit. (Seriously though, the grammar in MY bio was spot on. It borderline atrocious now.)

2.) There were some BEAUTIFUL shots that were taken that aren’t featured. I had 4 or 5 different looks and they only featured me in ONE. (see my current pic on Twitter @steenfox.) One of my LEAST favorite pics of the 500 is the one they have of me peeking through the bushes. And that's the default. Seriously?

3.) The red leopard print dress was actually NOT red. So, someone took the time to make that dress red to give me a different look when there are 496 other pictures to choose from.

4.) MY NAME IS SPELLED WRONG. WTF?!

I may sound ungrateful, but I was over this SUCH a long time ago. They [these pictures] stopped being important to me sometime during the last decade. I just can’t believe that I waited two years for THIS. I emailed them this morning and asked that they please correct the spelling of my name. (If you really want to ruffle my feathers, call me Christina.) I kinda want to mark up the bio & send them corrections on the grammar as well. I hate that shit. My pics will be up there until the end of time and I have shitty grammar & I’m wearing a red Photoshopped Bebe dress. FML.

Here's a link to the site. This site is NSFW so if you get fired for looking at titties, you can't come stay on my couch. http://www.thebreastexpert.com/modelnew/Christina.html

Hope for Haiti Recap

2010-01-30T09:40:00.000-08:00

So, last Friday (01/22/10) I had the honor of being able to volunteer at the “Hope for Haiti Now” telethon that George Clooney put together. It was simulcast on every major network. (BET, MTV, HBO, NBC, etc.) Cecily (one of the many awesome people I met in 2009) & myself were amongst a small team of talent escorts working the event. “What’s a talent escort?” you ask? Well, every major start-studded event that requires talent to be in a certain place at a specific time has talent escorts. Our role is to make sure that the major talent has eyes on them at all times. This is especially important for televised events, because talent often has hard in/out times. So if according to the breakdown (a sheet that details each minute of the show and a description of what’s going on down to the second) Halle Berry is supposed to be on camera at 5:04:45 pm and she’s in the restroom, we need to be able to locate her before her “on” time. (Perfect example: BET Awards ’09 could’ve used better talent escorts on Nichelle Nichols & Zoe Saldana. They were to come out to present together but Nichelle missed her hard in because she was in the bathroom. Zoe mentioned this TWICE on camera. But I digress…)

Often, escorts are assigned a specific talent for an event. However, because HFHN had EVERY A-lister there, it was impossible to have an assigned escort for everyone. George & a few others had someone keeping them on schedule. But most of the talent were splitting their time between one of the two green rooms until the show went live. After that they were all in the phone bank. There wasn’t too much corralling required so this was a pretty easy event.

It rained something awful the week of the event. I was hoping that the rain would let up by Friday. This was not the case. It poured my entire 1 hr commute from OC to LA and when I got there it was STILL raining. When I arrived at the CBS lot it was full so I had to park behind the lot at The Grove and walk back in the rain. On my way out of the confusing parking structure, I crossed paths with a makeup artist who was struggling with a travel case full of makeup. The sky made this loud cracking sound & we both looked at each other. It was about to start pouring, and we were a good 10 min walk from where we needed to be. She didn’t have an umbrella so I asked her if she was going to HFHN & she said she was. Right then it started raining so I invited her under my umbrella. She grabbed my arm & the 2 of us huddled together and made our way through a flooded alley onto the CBS lot.

Once we got under the tent she thanked me (she called me an angel) and we parted ways. I got my credentials & stood under a heat lamp while waiting to find out what the next step was. Soon thereafter, Cecily showed up. We got our food tickets & headed up to the 3rd floor for lunch. We spent about 30 min upstairs eating a nice catered spread with makeup artists and various production folks & stagehands before making our way back downstairs to get our assignments. When we returned downstairs we were told that talent would begin arriving around 3:00. The show was going to be on air at 5:00. Talent would be dropped off at the curb and we were to escort them to wherever they needed to go. Everyone would arrive pretty much camera ready but just in case anyone needed hair or makeup, this would be available for them. Certain talent had dressing rooms (John Legend, Kid Rock, Stevie Wonder, Alicia Keys, George Clooney and some folks from Twitter), but for the most part, everyone would need to be escorted to one of the two white tents inside that were set up as green rooms. Inside those tents were full bars, cookies & sandwiches, and plush white leather couches to lounge on. There were also high bar tables & large flat screen TV’s.

I was running my mouth to Cecily about God knows what when she sort of reached out to me as if to say “shhhhh!” I turned around & saw the reason why. Denzel was standing right next to us at the credentials table. I took no offense at all because it was Denzel! He can interrupt my story any day. Besides…whatever I was talking about couldn’t have been too important because I immediately forgot it.

We had a quick tour of the CBS building so that we’d know the layout. We walked across the stage as Cheryl Crow, Keith Urban & Kid Rock were rehearsing “Lean On Me.” The next hour was spent hanging around waiting for things to start. The ladies at the credentials table were getting things organized in alphabetical order. We had no idea this was the calm before the storm.

It was 3:15. I can’t really put into words what happened over the next 30 minutes. It was just…crazy. There was a line of cars a mile long. And every A-lister in Hollywood was in those cars. All arrivals were being announced over walkies, so we knew who was arriving and in what order. Cindy Crawford & Randy Gerber got out of a black Range Rover and I was handed their credentials. Cindy was drop dead gorgeous in jeans! “We want to go to Kid Rock’s dressing room.” she said. I escorted them up to the 2nd floor & took them to his dressing room. Now, you have to understand…I LIVED for fashion during Cindy’s reign. I had pics of her & several other 90’s supermodels on my bedroom walls as a teenager. So this moment was VERY surreal for me. But I maintained my composure & remained cool. On the outside I appeared like I do this every day. But in my head…I was dying!

I returned back to the 1^st floor and waited for more talent. Everyone was pouring in. The Jonas Brothers were standing at the table to get their credentials. They started giggling when one of the ladies at the table had Chevy Chase’s credentials & kept repeating “I have a Chevy Chase!” I took Mr. Chase (who is completely hard of hearing) thru the metal detectors. He had something in his pocket that set the alarm off. I figured we could just proceed but the young security guy working at the table made him empty his pockets and go back through. He actually asked CHEVY CHASE if he had any weapons in his pockets. Chevy replied “Huh?!” It wasn't a "come again?" huh. It was an "are you shitting me?" huh. The guy asked again & Chevy responded “Oh sure, I never leave home without my knife & gun.” Love it!

When I returned to the table I saw Jennifer Aniston, Tom Hanks, Alyssa Milano & Drew Barrymore. And Charlize Theron who is absolutely GORGEOUS in person. Marissa Tomei…not so much. Her face looked like the side of a dilapidated building. Kimora, Russell & Djimon arrived together (I love that!) Halle was standing right in front of me…it was unreal. Y’all don’t know how I feel about Halle! She’s iconic & I absolutely adore her. Next I realized that I've been hating Taylor Swift for the past 4 months for no reason at all. She greeted everyone with a smile & was a very sweet girl. Then I saw Andy Garcia! I had a picture of him in my locker in high school from when he was on the cover of GQ! Katy Perry & Russell Brand arrived separately but left arm in arm. Brad Pitt walked in looking like he just left the set of the biopic “Three Billy Goats Gruff”. Collin Ferrell. Ricky Martin. Taraji. Tyrese. Zoe Saldana. Robin Williams. Robert De Niro (I love Bobby D!) Common was in line waiting to get his credentials & smiled at me & said hello. He. Smiled. At. ME. I reached for his credentials & another escort intercepted. I didn't want to cause a scene so I let him have them. (He then proceeded to sneak his way into the green room to talk Common & Taraji’s ears off.) He later tells me that Common is his favorite MC & Common told him to keep in touch. Yeah right!

I walked by Quincy & said “Hello Mr. Jones” to which he replied “Hey baby!” I nearly melted into a puddle. When Stevie arrived, everything stopped. I know I’m dramatic but believe me when I say this: I didn’t hear SHIT that was going on around me when Stevie arrived! I watched him being take out of his car by his handlers & walk right past me. I just stood there & inhaled, taking in the moment. It felt like a dream. So many people arrived at once; they started handing out the wrong credentials to people. Samuel L. Jackson arrived wearing his signature black Kangol. Michael Clarke Duncan said he didn’t want someone else’s credentials. And Leonardo Di Caprio. This guy…he’s…special. It takes Cecily to show you how he walked down the hall on his cell phone. He was on some “love-you-baby-love-you-sweetie-let’s-do-lunch" type shit. *winks & points finger* Seriously. All he needed was an ascot & a monocle. He’s so pretentious. He was smoking a cigar & drinking white wine when John Legend arrived with his English Bulldog. Leo walked over to the dog & was petting it. Two feet away from me Leonardo Di Caprio is petting John Legend’s dog while Steven Spielberg walks by eating a turkey sandwich! I felt like I was in a David Lynch film. Oh, and when I took Cecily to the restroom to fill her in on “the escort from hell”, we ran into “Precious”. (That's how I referred to her to which Cecily replied “I’mma need ‘Precious’ to have a real name!") She was really sweet. I took a picture with her & she said “at least you didn’t follow me into the stall!” I saw Jack Nicholson & Mark Wahlberg. Mark is the best friend of a good friend of mine. I sent him a text telling him that I just saw Marky. He said they had breakfast that morning & did I say hi to him. (Um, no! Mark’s picture replaced Andy Garcia’s in my locker. I could never speak to him!)

The highlights of my night were escorting my secret crush Forest to the phone bank, going to a corner to scream into my scarf after seeing LL (Cecily laughed at me) and seeing Muhammad Ali leave the building. That was another “standing in silence” moment. Oh, and when Chris Rock & Rick Rubin walked around the corner together laughing and talking, for about 2.5 seconds I secretly wished I was a New Yorker. Y’all…Rick Rubin! I saw so many things that night that made me smile. Like Debra Messing & Meg Ryan standing off in a corner chatting like old girlfriends…then grabbing hands & pressing their foreheads together. (It was cute.) And Jack Black & Randy Jackson chopping & Sacha Baron Cohen walked up and joined in the conversation. I was also able to speak with Russell Simmons about his Jivamukti Yoga scholarship for women of color. THAT was surreal. *I’m standing here talking to Russell Simmons about yoga.* I thanked him for his time & hit him with a “Namaste” before coolly walking away (all while screaming inside my head.)

It was truly an amazing experience. Seeing everyone in Hollywood turn out in the pouring rain for a wonderful cause. (Everyone was dressed casual…except for Leo & some lady wearing a long green velvet gown & a vest that resembled road kill.) You could see how connected all of these people are. They’ve all crossed paths at some point over the years. Many have worked together or worked on the same lots. Most have have had the same managers, agents & publicists. There was a sense of camaraderie & realness that we regular folk don’t get a chance to see. Being able to witness it first hand gave me a different perspective of Hollywood & it was an experience that I won’t soon forget.

Preface to Last Weekend

2010-01-26T09:32:00.000-08:00

My name is Christine & I am the most interesting unemployed person you’ll ever meet. Within the past 6 months, I’ve had some great adventures. Like ending up at the BET Awards as “talent” with all-access to closed rehearsals Friday & Sunday and hanging out backstage watching the show from stage left. The stories I could tell about that weekend! Maybe I’ll get those out another time. (Until this day, a certain “hanger-on” still wants to know how the hell Tatum & I got in. All these months & he’s still losing sleep! I’ll never tell…) I think I attended Foxx’s “Blame It” tour maybe 3 or 4 times…excellent seats, backstage, the works. I have some very wonderful friends who take GREAT care of me so I’m very grateful for that. In July, I met up with 30 “friends” from all over the country in Vegas (we’re all part of a group on Facebook.) We spent 5 days together in a 10,000 sf compound. That was a Vegas trip like no other that NONE of us will ever forget! I may wish to run for mayor someday, so the details of that trip [the ones that I can remember] will be omitted from this and all future blogs! ;)

In October I had the honor of seeing His Holiness The Dalai Lama in Long Beach. It was an absolutely amazing, enlightening experience. HH has a great sense of humor & actually cracked a few jokes. And after touching countless people’s hands, he produces from out of nowhere a small bottle of Target hand sanitizer! Later that night I attended a charity event “Common & Friends” at the Palladium in Hollywood. That concert will go down in history as one of the best concerts I’ve ever been to in my life! (Up there with Sade and MJ.) Common, Nas, The Roots, Talib Kweli, Latifah, Mos Def & then Kanye popped up out of nowhere. Talk about a crowd losing their minds! I’m surprised I had a voice the next day! (Thanks Dani!) Last month I attended my first professional fight with a great friend of mine. The fight aired on Showtime. We sat ringside, giving me a new appreciation for boxing! Although I haven’t done the traveling that I always dream of, I’ve still been able to share some great meals, great wine, and lots of laughter with friends (old & new) and I feel truly blessed. I met some dynamic people in 2009! An amazing chain of events from 2009 lead me to this past weekend…Hope For Haiti Now, The Producers Guild Awards, and now I’m Oscar bound! (to be continued…)

Why I Need A Dryer

2010-01-14T14:44:00.000-08:00

I hate doing laundry. Not so much the act of doing laundry itself…I mean, it’s not like I have to go down to the river & beat my clothes against a rock. But I hate the prep that’s involved in actually getting my clothes cleaned. See, our dryer is broken. We have a washer that operates fine, which is great for most of my wardrobe. I’d say I hang dry maybe half of my clothing anyway. T-shirts, sweaty yoga pants, unmentionables…they all get washed in cold & hung to dry. Its better for the fabric in the long run and on a warm day these things will be dry within a few hours. But there are some things that I can’t get away with hang drying. Towels, bedding, rugs, etc. need to go into a dryer. So, ultimately I end up putting off washing these things for as long as possible until I end up with a mountain of towels & sheets because I hate going to a public coin operated laundromat. To avoid going weekly, I have several sets of sheets and more towels than a family of 4 has.

So yesterday I got myself mentally prepared to head to the laundromat. I haven’t been since before Christmas. This required pre-sorting everything on the living room floor and making sure I had lots of quarters (because you can’t depend on the change machines to dispense all of your quarters and sometimes they eat your cash all together with. Plus you should always have extra quarters in case you put 4 of them into a dryer only to find out that for the past hour your towels have been tossed around with cold air blowing on them.) I had to go out to move my car so that I could load it with my huge, heavy basket of laundry and then schlepped detergent & fabric softener out to the car as well. I can get the entire laundry process done from start to finish in 2 hrs.

I arrived at the laundromat at 3:00 p.m. As I suspected, 3:00 p.m. on a Monday = ghost town. I’d be in and out of here quickly, which made me happy. No fighting over washers or dryers for me today. Yay! I loaded 4 washers with my stuff. As I was pouring detergent into the top of the front loading washers, in the mirror's reflection above the machines I noticed a young, thin Hispanic man with curly hair standing maybe 30 feet away from me. What caught my eye was that he was digging his nose. He wasn’t even trying to play it off like he was wiping his nose or he had an itchy nostril. He was digging away like he was at home alone! I was so shocked that he was just digging and digging and digging like this in public. I kept staring at him in the mirror hoping he would see me watching him and he’d be embarrassed and stop. But he never looked over. He just continued to dig. Then he finally stopped, but it was only to switch nostrils. He dug some more, and then did the unthinkable. He rolled his little treasures up into a ball between his thumb and index finger, then took his index finger and reached out for one of the laundry carts and wiped his booger on the chrome bar. He then continued to dig and roll and wiped more on the bar. I was beyond disgusted! This is a cart provided by the laundromat for patrons to put their clean clothes in and he’s painting it with boogers! I walked over to the paper towel dispenser and got some towels and walked up to him. “Here you go.” I said. “Thank you!” He said. “This is for you to wipe those boogers off the cart.” I said. He just looked at me. I turned and walked away. **sigh** I’ve got to get a dryer.

sigh

2010-01-08T20:39:00.000-08:00

This week I was doing employment consulting for a client. Her nephew needed career path assistance and since my schedule right now is uber flexible (I have time for morning yoga, lunch in The Valley on a whim, and 20 mile bike rides on a Tuesday afternoon!) I told her I was available. So, for the past few days I’ve been meeting with her 19 year old nephew helping him map out his career goals, applying for jobs, registering with agencies, etc.

This kid is very personable. And very lost. He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to do with his life. He did mention that he wanted to be "an entrepreneur". I asked “entrepreneur of what? and you could hear a pin drop. As soon as I started going into him identifying his target audience I could tell I'd lost him. My client kind of got him & his brother thrown into her lap a few years ago and they’ve been nothing but thorns in her paw ever since she got them. Just 2 days after his 18^th birthday, her nephew *Steve was arrested and now has a felony robbery charge on his record. (Over some dumb shit involving a skateboard and $5.00!) So, this week I’ve been on the phone with several contacts of mine getting advice, trying to find “felony-friendly” employers, researching information about expunsion of his felony & getting the charge reduced in the interim (because he has 5 years of probation he wouldn’t be eligible for expunsion until after that, if at all) ALL while trying to convince the poor child to go to school and learn a damn trade. We found an ROP internship in Travel & Tourism that starts next Tuesday. He seemed interested in it & I figured that with an internship his felony shouldn’t come into play and since the coursework would take place onsite (vs. in a classroom) he could potentially get into a hotel, prove himself, and possibly get hired on after the course was over in June.

I felt like I was making progress with the kid. I kept reiterating to him that his main goal at this point should be to show any potential employers that he has made strides to turn his life around since he was arrested. His aunt was even kind enough to allow him to use her business name as his current employer on his resume in an effort to show that he has had steady employment for a year. Outside of that, he’s had 3 jobs. He was fired from one, gave two week notice at another and stopped showing up a few days into that final two weeks, and the third he also stopped showing to (because he had to turn himself in after his arrest. Instead of discussing this with the employer he just disappeared.) So, his work history is very sketchy to say the least. When I mentioned him going back to school he said it would “take too long”. I’m like ‘dude, learn a trade that will make you money for the rest of your life!” Plus, this would be impressive to employers. It would show his drive and initiative. He said it made sense & I felt like it was starting to sink in & we were making strides.

We met this morning at Panera and since it was a beautiful Southern California day we sat outside. I had my Mac & took great pleasure in pimping their free WiFi while Steve texted his friends and got distracted by the birds and shiny objects. I set him up for a few appointments early next week, applied for a few jobs & registered him with a few companies that conduct focus groups before taking him back to his aunt’s office to give her a recap of our progress before breaking for lunch. It was noon and he was getting a little antsy so I told him we could just meet up again on Tuesday before his appointments. I would meet him at his aunts office early so that we could have a quick run through before his first agency interview. I told him to make sure he was dressed for success. “I don’t have no nice clothes” he said. His aunt said she would help him get some black pants over the weekend. He told me “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get some pants someway.” Jokingly, I said “Don’t you end up in jail before I see you Tuesday!” I gave him a ride home & he gave me a hug, thanked me for everything & said he'd see me next week.

I just got a text from his aunt that read “Hey girl…no need to continue job searching for Steve. He was caught stealing at Ralph’s…he is on his way to jail…” WTF! I’m literally shaking my head. I gave her a call. She was at a bar having a strong drink. As it turns out, he was caught stealing condoms from a local grocery store. So now he has the original robbery charge with a new larceny charge which will probably be be brutal. My boy just told me "He would’ve been better off knocking the officer out and getting an assault charge over the theft." Larceny after being convicted for robbery? This is bad. Real bad. *sigh*

"Where The White Women At!"

2009-12-09T03:15:00.000-08:00

My best friend forwarded an email to me today with the subject line "A Shame...What's Happening With Our Brothers?" I opened the email expecting to see something compelling. Perhaps the email would discuss the alarming rate of new HIV/AIDS cases amongst black men, or the increasing number of black male youth in prisons. Instead, the body of the email read:

"To see just how many of our brothers date outside their race, click on the link below. Some will be shockers because you would never think they would but others you won’t be as shocked. It’s a shame regardless that it’s come to this. Makes you kind of mad. http://afieldnegro.com/photos.html"

So, I clicked on the link. And I saw the pictures of many black professional athletes, musicians, actors, and other public figures with non-black women. I also saw pictures of Kimora Lee, Derek Jeter, Shemar Moore, Tony Parker, August Wilson, Lewis Hamilton, Boris Diaw, Adam Clayton Powell, Tiger Woods, Lenny Kravitz, Ben Harper, Vin Diesel, Damian Marley, Gary Dourdan, David Justice, & Barack's parents (not sure why they were there, but I’m very thankful for their union!) The aforementioned are all multi-racial. Shemar's mother is white. So are the mothers of Tony, Boris, Adam, Ben, Damian, Vin, Gary and David. So…if any of these men decide to date or marry white women, are they NOT allowed to without being persecuted by black women? Is Shemar NOT allowed to date a woman who looks like his own mother? Same question applies to Derek, Lewis & Tiger. None of these men have black mothers. How can we play the "self-hatred" card ONLY when these men date or marry non-black women? (How convenient.) Is it also considered self-hate if they exclusively date black women? Why not? That’s not denouncing their whiteness? Tiger's wife isn't Thai...and I don't see the Thai's up in arms about it. But I have seen black women (and men) up in arms about who Tiger has chosen to have his “transgressions” with. “Why couldn’t he throw a sistah or an Asian chick in the mix?” In the grand scheme of things, what difference does that make? Would that make Tiger blacker if he cheated on his wife with a black woman? Would it make any of these men blacker if they ONLY dated black women? Then what? Do they get to be grand marshal in some black history parade or sumshit? I mean, really!

As I continued to read, a few more questions came to mind. Like why are Pele (the Brazilian soccer star) and Alex Rodriguez (he’s of Dominican descent) considered black on this site but the Panamanian women at the end of the page aren’t? Just because they speak Spanish, doesn't make them devoid of African heritage. Have you heard of the Cimarron people??? Several of the 'offenders' on this site have been linked to black women in the past. Are these men not allowed to date non-black women ever? What right does anyone have to dictate who someone should date or marry? And more importantly, who has this much time on their hands to scour the internet looking for pictures of black public figures and their non-black women to put on a website? SN: When was 50 Cent w/Paris Hilton, Ray J w/Tila, Ann Coulter w/JJ Walker (WTF! Mr. Field Negro obviously has no idea who Ann Coulter is!) & Raphael w/Joss? I must’ve missed those memos. I know I’m all over the place but I’d also like to point out that Dr. J’s wife is black, Adam Clayton Powell’s 1st wife Isabel (pictured) was black (so was his 2nd & his 3rd was Puerto Rican) and lastly the woman pictured with Richard Jefferson’s name is “Kesha Ni’Cole Nichols.” But I digress…

There was also a photograph shown of Booker T. Washington's second wife. No name or details were given. When I looked at her picture I didn’t see a white woman. I saw a woman who looked a lot like my own grandmother. So, I looked her up and discovered that the woman in the photo was Olivia A. Davidson. Davidson's father was a slave and her mother was freeborn. She began teaching when she was 16 years old and was the co-founder of the Tuskegee Institute. Her brother was murdered by the KKK. Her life was incredible. And this information could’ve easily been found in the midst of Googling pictures of NBA players w/white women.

I’m from Orange County, CA born and raised. There aren’t a lot of black people where I live. So I’ve dated everything. And not by choice. There’s just a shortage of brothas here so until I was able to travel to meet black men I had to date what was convenient. (Growing up in OC was very difficult dating & image wise. That’s a blog for another day.) My 1st love was of Columbian/Dominican heritage. I’ve dated Filipino, Persian, Indian, Puerto Rican, Mexican, Italian...I don’t discriminate. There are beautiful men in every race. And I’m grateful for having had the opportunity to date different people. I’ve learned a lot from those experiences. And the one thing I learned about myself is that my preference is black men. I love my brothas! For me there’s nothing like being with a black man. I love seeing his brown skin next to mine. And when I have to press my hair he doesn’t walk in & ask what that smell is in the kitchen, nor does he ask why I sleep with a scarf on my head! He understands me culturally. I’m like his sisters and his aunts and his mother and his future daughter. For me, there’s something very comforting about being with someone who comes from where I come from. And that is MY choice. Doesn’t make it right or wrong. This is just what works for me.

When I was 18 I got engaged…to a white man. (His father was Portuguese and his mother was and Afrikaner.) I’d known him throughout junior high and high school. I’d had a crush on him since 7th grade & vice versa. I figured that we were socialized the same so the difference in color shouldn’t impact our relationship too severely. We had the same friends. We listened to the same music. We participated in the same activities. After we moved in together I saw that there were in fact vast differences. We meshed well on a social level but we were definitely not raised the same. For example, our views on how to raise/discipline children were different. I can’t put it into words but I felt like there was something missing (culturally). I’ll never forget the day we were having a conversation about music & I referenced something and he asked me “who’s DeBarge?” In that moment I knew that I didn’t want to spend my life with someone that I’d have to explain things like this to. (Plus he was nuttier than squirrel shit. But that’s also a story for another day.)

My point is that for me, I knew that we were just too different and it was easier for me to be with someone who understood my blackness. For some people this isn’t a deterrent. I dealt with the looks & commentary from people when we were out in public. I wasn’t with him because I hated myself. I wasn’t with him because of bad experiences with black men. I was with him because I loved him. We had a lot in common (in hindsight that was all surface.) I wasn’t with him for any reasons related to self-hatred. But I’m sure to some looking in it may have appeared that way. Couldn’t have been further from the truth.

You can’t give a blanket explanation for why every black man dates a non-black woman. If you don’t have any vested interest in someone’s relationship it shouldn’t matter to you any damn way. How is Tiki Barber being married to an Asian woman going to effect your mortgage? Get some hobbies that don’t involve who strangers choose to marry and spend their lives with. I’m sure there are many black men who date outside of their race because of bad experiences with black women (I saw Lionel Richie's picture on this site. I'd date 'other' too if I got busted upside the head with a skillet! Kidding...) There are also black men who date what’s around them. And there are also black men who believe like I do that variety is the spice of life. There are beautiful women in every color. Why are black women the only ones so upset about our men dating other women? The white women aren’t pitching a fit about their men dating Asian or Latina women. We need to stop putting so much negative energy into what other people are doing. There’s someone for everyone. I can’t believe that people are actually passing this link to this half-baked website around chalk full of grammatical errors & facts that were pulled out of the air and getting themselves all worked up. “Some will be shockers because you’d never think they would”. Serioulsy? Do YOU want Don Cornelius' old ass? I sure the hell don’t! The man who only dates blondes won’t be interested in you anyway so don’t waste another moment of your life thinking about him.

California Schemin'

2009-07-04T04:03:00.000-07:00

Let me give you a quick back story before I go into the events of this evening. Last weekend after the BET Awards, my girlfriend and I were leaving The Shrine. We were high off of the experience, recapping all the details of that evening and entire weekend. As we were making our way across the street we saw 2 very nicely dressed women and a man. One of the women yelled out “Excuse me. Are you guys waiting for the shuttle?” I told her that we were heading to my car. I asked “have you been waiting for a long time?” and she said they had been. Then she asked me if I wouldn’t mind giving them a ride to this offsite parking structure a few miles away. I told her it wasn’t a problem and that I would go get my car & be right back. We came back & picked the 3 people up and soon after they got in we discovered that the 2 ladies were successful businesswomen, both in fields of interest to me and the man was a famous author. (I have one of his books & my girlfriend has several. Also, my best friend has gone to hear him speak on at least one occasion.) The ride to the parking structure was very entertaining. It felt like I was amongst friends. We were all talking about the show (and Don Cornelius’ never-ending speech) and laughing about *Dave ending up at the wrong charity dinner the night before. (He sat through an entire dinner and drinks before realizing he was at the wrong function.) I should’ve known then that dude wasn’t wrapped too tight. The group was very grateful to have been given a ride & all 3 gave me their business cards & told me to keep in touch. So, over the next few days I followed up with each of them. On Wednesday I heard back from Dave. He responded to my email & said that he’d be in town until Saturday morning & to call him “ASAP”. I was excited that he responded so quickly & enthusiastically and called him back right away. We spoke briefly & talked about getting together to have a drink. I called my friends who were familiar with his work & told them and they were all excited too! I was going to have a chance to sit down with this author, have a drink and pick his brain! All of this stemming from being a good Samaritan and going 5 minutes out of my way for a group of strangers. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. So, the plan was we were going grab a drink the following night. (Unfortunately for him he got bumped by a bigger name…I got a last minute call that I had some Foxx tickets waiting for me…lol!) So I sent him a text asking if we could reschedule for Friday and although he was disappointed he said it was fine.

I felt kind of guilty about flaking so 1st thing Friday morning I sent him a text saying “Hey!” And the text message response I got was “Good morning! You lonely and in need of good, strong TLC today? Massages? Toe rubs? Long strokes? Ice cream scoops? Or lollipops?” I was in the beauty supply store when I read this shit. And I almost dropped my phone. I was completely dumfounded. I was stuck for about 5 minutes. I was so blown I forgot why I was even at the store! I forwarded the text to my girlfriend who was with me the night we met Dave. We were both completely blown away! Nothing I had said or done up until that point could’ve been misconstrued as me making an advance at him. My interest in him did not extend past business. That little voice was now screaming at me to cut off contact with this guy. Did I listen though? So here’s where the story begins…

Dave sent me a text today asking if we were still on for "salted margaritas" this evening. I told him we were and that I was about to take a nap. He responded something about me needing the energy. I responded “Energy?” and he made some smart ass comment like “do you need the definition?” That little voice was now clearing its throat. The plan was we’d meet between 8-9 at his hotel and we’d go from there. I was a little reluctant to meet him at his hotel considering the earlier inappropriate comments he’d made, but ignored the little voice and told myself “Christine, you’re trippin” and brushed it off. I just wouldn’t go inside & I’d be safe. I sent him a text around 8:00 and told him I was leaving in a few minutes (to make the 30 mile drive to meet him.) When I arrived at his hotel just before 9:00 I called him and told him I was downstairs. He said “I’ll be right behind you.” Somehow I interpreted this to mean that he was going to get in his rental car and either follow me or lead to our destination or whatever. After sitting there for about 10 minutes, he calls me to tell me he’s lost. Yes, lost. He was driving around somewhere and was lost and was asking me to guide him back to the hotel. I explained that I wasn’t familiar with the area he was in and would probably get him more lost than he already was. He said he was trying to return his cousin’s car. *confused face* All these additional layers started getting added to the evening. Like, why are you driving around lost at 9:00 when we were supposed to be meeting between 8-9? So now I’m sitting in my car listening to this guy read off street names as he passes them. I keep telling him “I don’t know where you are! I can’t help you! I don’t know that area!” And he’s like “now I’m on Compton Blvd.” “Now I’m on such-and-such.” I told him I was going to call him back. I just had to get off the phone because I was getting irritated. Mind you, earlier I had this fool who doesn’t even live in California trying to give me directions to a place I’ve been to a dozen times. BAD directions, might I add. And now Mr. Thomas Guide himself is lost. Smh…

10 minutes later he calls me back and says “ok, so you know where Avalon Street is now, right?” I said “what do you mean do I know where it is now? I’ve been sitting at your hotel for 20 minutes!” He said “ok, I’m down the street at 196th.” Silence. Apparently that was code for “come pick me up.” I sat there and waited for him to say something else. He explained that he dropped his cousin’s car off and was down the street & could I come get him. He’d be on 196th “walking down the middle of the street.” Yes. He said that. Down the middle. So, sure enough I see him walking down the middle of the street flapping his arms. By now I’m wishing this night would be over as quickly as possible. (Many creative types are eccentric right?) So I gave the dude a pass.

He got in my car smelling like fried chicken. I asked him “was someone cooking in the house you just left? You smell like chicken.” And he started telling me some story about going to a soul food restaurant and them messing up his order and him not getting to eat and that’s why he was lost. (As I’m thinking, why are you going to get soul food when we’re heading out at dinner time?) Dude got in my car smelling like Sunday after church! I started to drive & was going to make a u-turn but he starts guiding me through the residential area. And then he made a CARDINAL mistake. He started commenting on my driving. I approached a speed bump and he said “whoa! That just snuck up on you didn’t it?” I said “No? I saw it.” I mean damn, I slowed down and crept over the speed bump. Then I approached the corner, looked down the dark street and didn’t see any cars coming and proceeded to make a right. Mind you there was no stop sign at the corner. So he made a comment about that too. “Boy, you just turned and didn’t stop!” I said “Today isn’t my 1st day driving, you know.” This fool has been in my car all of 60 seconds and he’s already about to get pushed into traffic. We started driving down Avalon and he asked me “what school is that?” I told him it was Cal State Dominguez. And he said “huh?” That’s when I realized…dude can’t hear. Then he broke cardinal rule #2. He touched my radio. And proceeded to bitch about Jay-Z’s new song. He said “I’ve yet to hear this entire song.” I said “you heard it the other night at the show!” Of course now I realize, he probably didn’t hear shit that night. He would’ve been better off sitting in a seat FACING the teleprompter.

We continued driving down Avalon trying to find a restaurant to sit down at and have a drink. I’d had a huge lunch so I wasn’t really hungry but at this point needed a beverage to take the edge off. The energy in the car was kinda weird and I was hoping that us getting in a social environment and having a cocktail would help. He continued to bug me though. Like, as I’m preparing to turn and park in a spot he says “there’s one!” No shit. I’m practically in the spot already fool. We start walking into Chili’s and he’s walking FAST & several paces ahead of me. I assumed this was because he was trying to beat me to the door so that he could open it for me. Well, part of that is correct. He WAS trying to beat me to the door. If I had been just a few feet more behind him, the door would’ve hit me in the face! There was a gentleman holding the 2nd door open and Dave busted right on through that door too. I thanked the man for holding the door open for both of us (the fool should’ve taken over door duty for the man standing there. Smh.) We get inside Chili’s and this is where the true hilarity ensues.

Dave walked in towards the bar area and plopped his ass down in the 1st empty booth he saw. I told him I had to go to the restroom and immediately went to try to pull myself together. When I returned I ordered a margarita. He had all of these questions for the waitress about the margaritas and when she realized he couldn’t hear her responses she offered to go grab some waters and give him a little more time. My drink got dropped off at the wrong table and was then returned to the bar so I ended up waiting 15 more minutes for it to be remade. I felt like an alchy. I was fiending for that drink so bad! I’m sitting across from this fool who is slurping his margarita like it’s a bowl of gazpacho. Not even lifting the margarita glass...just sticking his snout down in the glass and sluuuuuuurp! So he looks at me and asks “How often do you arch your eyebrows?” I said “Uh...I don’t know…every few weeks?” He says “that’s a serious arch!” sluuuuuuuuuuurp. I said “um, thanks?” Didn’t really sound like a compliment. He ordered an appetizer…some fries with a bunch of cheese & bacon on them. He couldn’t hear the waitress when she asked if he wanted a ½ or full order so I just answered for him & said full. When the fries arrived, I took a few & put them on my plate. He made some comment about ranch & how he knows a dude who puts ranch on everything. He then proceeds to take ketchup and completely drown the entire order of fries in ketchup. I took my napkin, sat it on my plate & put my fork down. He saw this and said “aw man! I’ll take the part that has ketchup.” And picked through the fries trying to eat only what had ketchup on it. That was the entire order! Next he mentioned that he needed napkins so I called the waitress over & asked for napkins. As she’s walking away he yells after her “can you bring back some napkins?!”

I finally got my margarita and that drink didn’t stand a chance. I killed it. As I’m drinking, he gives me his philosophy on “stretching” a cocktail. He takes his water and pours it into his empty margarita glass & said that there’s still alcohol on the ice so when you pour water over it, it’s like getting a 2nd drink. You’ve got to be kidding me! I ordered some chips & salsa and another appetizer as my entrée (since the last one got ruined) and he ordered a steak. The TV’s were on in the bar area so I was glancing up at the ball game…just anything to get my mind off of this nightmare of an evening. The limited conversation focused on a few topics:
1. Him and how fabulous he is.
2. Me not being as talkative in person and how he felt let down.
3. Him asking me continuously what I was thinking about. He said this was one of his favorite questions to ask people. He asked “do you know what people usually say when you ask them that?” I said “they say ‘nothing’”? He said “yes!” I told him that was just a nice way of saying ‘none of your damn business.’)
Our food came and not a moment too soon. He complained about the size of the steak & how he needed A-1 so I flagged down our waitress & asked for some A-1 just to shut him up. He had another theory about how asking for steak sauce can be perceived as an insult. Then he asked me how many pairs of shoes I own (random, I know) and at one point started singing “I Will Survive” but he didn’t know any of the words so lyrics were replaced with ‘da-da-duh-duh-da’. He asked me who that song was by & I said “I think it’s Gloria Gaynor” to which he responded “the water is WHAT?” He then insisted that the song wasn’t by her because he’d never heard of her. *sigh* Another highlight of the evening was when he reinacted kung-fu movies he remembers from his childhood. He did about 10 different voices, including the old man and a girl’s voice. All while chewing his steak & spitting out the fat. By now we were done with our meals. I had the waitress wrap up the chips & salsa and told him he could take them back with him. He was taking the fries too. He said they could get warmed up later. I asked “your room has a microwave?” and soon discovered that he was staying with his cousin. He wasn’t even staying at that damn hotel he had me meet him at! I’m cursing this waitress under my breath because she leaves for 10-15 minutes at a time and I am ready to GO! I finally make eye contact with her and she brings the bill. He looks it over and can’t believe that it’s $62. I told him that wasn’t bad considering he had 2 margaritas, I had 1. We had 3 appetizers and he ordered a steak. He looked at the bill again and said “how much is the tip? Like $10?” I said "yes, that would be fair." So he throws down $10 and said he’ll “take care of her”. Now I’m thinking “wait a damn minute. Why would he just put down $10? I know this isn’t about to happen.” So we’re both just sitting there, I’m waiting for him to pay so we can bounce and now he’s scooted down in the booth so his legs are taking up ALL free space under the table. I’m contorting so that his legs wont touch mine & so that I’m not BETWEEN his legs. I was completely disgusted. So we have a discussion about that. He said he wants to be comfortable & told him that his stretching out to be comfortable was making me uncomfortable. And he starts AGAIN with how disappointed he is with me. Oh, but this is after he said he wished that he’d had a room so that he could’ve give me a massage! I let out a high pitched “WHAT?!” Even his deaf ass heard that! I told him “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment. I think it’s time to go.” And he said “ok” still not reaching for the check. So I said “Uh, do you want me to put some money on that check?” And do you know what this fool said????? He said “I thought you were paying.” DAHELL???? I said “WHAT?!” He said “well you said you wanted to go get some drinks so I thought you were paying.” Are you kidding me? My hands were shaking. I was trying so hard not to lose it. I said “are you serious?” It became the chicken and the egg. What came 1st, him suggesting we get together or me suggesting we grab a drink. I’m sure he suggested hooking up & I said we could grab a drink. Whatever the case may be, he actually had the AUDACITY to think that I drove 60 miles round trip to come take his raggedy ass out to dinner? I mean, if we had been there discussing business like I’d hoped, I could kind of understand. This guy gets paid to speak in public so I know his time is valuable. But shit, so is mine. And my gas. And I just picked this mf & his friends up earlier in the week and drove them miles to their car, not expecting anything in return but DAMN! Where’s the gratitude? So, he asks me how I wanna do this (divide up the bill) so I took it and said “well, I had ONE margarita, you ate ALL the fries, you’re taking the chips home, and I had the egg rolls. I never eat more than I can afford.” He still kept saying “well you said you wanted to get drinks!”

After a few uncomfortable minutes I excused myself from the table & went to the bathroom to call my girlfriend. She answered the phone laughing. She knew whatever I was calling her about was going to be funny. I told her “girl, this fool just ordered up all this food & expects me to pay...and I’m walking out on him.” She was stunned. I left the bathroom and tried to leave out the back door & it was locked. I was hiding in a corner near the kitchen (so that he couldn’t see me) and motioned for this waitress to come over. I knew that I had to play up the situation so I told her “I’m on a really bad date and I want to leave. Can you get your manager to come over & unlock that back door?” She said she’d go get him. I guess word got around the kitchen quickly because I’m standing in the entrance of the kitchen & all of the servers are walking over to see what’s going on. One girl had her hand on her hip pointing at me saying “That’s right girl! That’s right! You leave!” Our waitress walked in & saw me and thought there was a problem with her service. I told her “I’m trying to tell the manager that I’m having the night from hell & I want to sneak out the back” and she said “yeah, that guy is a little weird”. The manager asked how was the food going to get paid for. I said Dave would pay. I slipped the waitress a $10 and told her I was sorry. The manager unlocked the back door and all the servers cheered me on as I RAN to my car, jumped in, and drove off. A few minutes later I got a text from him saying “I guess the last laugh is on me now. Thanks a lot!” and a final text that said “California scheming!” Yeah, I really picked you up on the street and gave you a ride AND drove 60 miles round trip and drove up ¼ tank of gas to scheme a $20 meal out of you. Fuckouttahere.

The night wasn’t a total loss though. I stopped off at the 7-11 on Avalon and purchased 4 bean pies…

*Name has been changed to protect his trifling broke ass but if you private message me I’ll tell you who he is.

The "Toss It Like Birdseed" List

2008-07-14T15:05:00.000-07:00

Current mood: melancholy
This is my 1st crack at a list! So, the way this works is I list random thoughts, quotes, lyrics etc. that are relevant to what's going on in my little head at the moment & if you feel compelled to do so, you comment! Enjoy...
1. "It's ok in the day, I'm staying busy. Tied up enough so I don't have to wonder where is he. Got so sick of crying, so just lately...when I catch myself I do a 180." -Amy Winehouse "Wake Up Alone"
2. Yoga really is my boyfriend right now.
3. I honestly think if I hadn't "discovered" it when I did, y'all would've seen me on the news.
4. R told me I'm "all over the place".
5. Not a truer word was ever spoke!
6. It's hard not to be, but I'm trying.
7. I'm so looking forward to 2008 being over
8. This year has been some shit I never want to repeat again

9. I think "hell" for me would be to repeat 2008 over and over again for eternity!
10. I've cut so many people off. But hey, my cell phone bill is lower than a muhfucka! *sigh*
11. If I hear that Little Brother verse ONE MORE GOTDAMN TIME, I'mma headed to NC to start cappin' on the damn Justice League!
12. So, I know every word to every song on Lil Wayne's new CD.
13. It's the only "safe" CD I have. It doesn't remind me of anyone or anything.
14. Sheesh, I'm a tortured soul.
15. "Niggas are the NEW bitches. See, we need to start treating them like they treat us. Eat up their food, f*ck them and then don't call them back! And f*ck their friends!"
16. When I read that IM, I snorted and spat at the same time!
17. I have crazy friends! But trust & believe, they're in good company.
18. I realize that I can't tell real love from 'knock off' love. Shit looks really real, but upon closer inspection I discover that the Chanel has an extra N or Louis has an E in it. *Big sigh*
19. I don't know what's going on with my Boo-Boo but I hope we get everything straightened out soon.
20. I really think the universe gets a kick out of torturing me. I think I must've really pissed someone off in a former life!
21. So Nate Dogg is a stalker? http://www.rollingstone.com/rockdaily/index.php/2008/07/09/nate-dogg-gets-arrested-for-stalking-adding-to-his-fun-year/
22. There's something very non-gangsterish about that.
23. RIP Uncle Bob. I never forgave you for that Halloween candy stunt but I guess I should.
24. Naw, f*ck that! Some things are worth holding on to! Kidding...
25. "Teaching our daughters to never allow images on television to tell them what they are worth; teaching our sons to treat women with respect, and to realize responsibility does not end at conception; that what makes them a man is not the ability to have a child but to raise one." -Barack Obama
26. When Barack becomes President, I am seriously going to shed tears.
27. "When the summer came, you were not around. Now the summer's gone & love can not be found. Where were you when I needed you...last winter, my love?...where are you when I need you? Like right now."-Stevie Wonder Superwoman (Where Were You When I Needed You)
28. That Stevie song has been stuck in my head for a few weeks now.
29. They say it's better to have loved & lost than to never have loved at all or some crap like that.
30. I stamp that one with a big fat NEGATIVE.
31. I need to go to Bikram tomorrow. I'm a crabby crab right now.
32. My mom is not allowed to go on vacation EVER again. The second she left, bedlam broke loose!
33. That's my word of the moment. "Bedlam". Add it to your vocab if it's not already there!
34. See, this list is educational as well as entertaining!
35. I have some virtual friends that I may never actually meet in real life and I really have love for those folks! My "vff's". (You can borrow that one too.)
36. Isn't it crazy how technology brings us all together? I can play Scrabble with someone on the other side of the country that I've never even met in real life!
37. I'm easily impressed!
38. Maybe that's part of my problem.
39. Jea, the mizzle got me making Dairy Queen & Taco Bell runs!
40. Totally counter "Full Locust & Half Moon"
41. But when you have a big black bruise on your thigh, it's very necessary. Damn.
42. "...you took me riding in your rocket and gave me a star. But at a half a mile from heaven and you dropped my black ass back down to this cold, cold world."-Stevie Wonder "Rocket Love"
43. You can throw that one on repeat right now and you'll know exactly what I'm going through. "I would not do that to a dog!" Preach Stevie!
44. So, I'm not sure if I love my new job or not.
45. I mean, it's better than collecting unemployment and watching judge shows all day...
46. ...but so is getting dental work done because at least then you get some great drugs!
47. I can't for the life of me understand why people make their lives harder than they have to be. 48. I guess many of us are tortured souls.
49. I get tired of always being "on"...
50. ...and sometimes wish someone would just throw me a lifesaver
51. Don't worry about the crazy ex, PF. You dodged the bullet this time.
52. I hope Clo had a wonderful Hawaiian getaway. Next time, I'm carrying her bags or something!
53. Costa Rica in January? Woot!
54. I really miss SNB.
55. Yeah, so it's 8:00 p.m and I haven't eaten today.
56. Might explain why I'm so cranky, eh?
57. I swear I'm not a hater, but has it occurred to anyone that the reason why these "Bachelor" and "Bachelorette" folks don't stay together is because all the baller ass dates stop when the cameras stop rolling?
58. Shit, I'd fall in love too if I was on a horse drawn carriage in the snow sipping cocoa with marshmallows one week and in a hot air balloon over Sonoma the next week!
59. In the past week, I realized that this whole having kids thing might not be for me.
60. They're cute until they start having opinions & shit.
61. I worry about my sister. She really needs to move out of that house.
62. 2 of my bosses lick their fingers before turning the pages of any document they come into contact with. Shit could be only 2 pages. Fucking grosses me out! I don't want to touch your DNA! EVER!
63. "Tell me who I have to be? To get some reciprocity!"-Lauryn Hill "Ex-Factor"
64. I promise the next list will be a little more upbeat...
65. Epic Roast...thanks PF! http://m.youtube.com/details?v=B_L-gbpKZpo&client=mv-google&warned=1&locale=en_US
66. Whoever went Photoshop happy on Jennifer Hudson's new CD cover needs their artsy ass beat!
67. "If you don't love me...somebody else will!" Lil Wayne - "Comfortable"

Confession

2008-05-30T20:06:00.000-07:00

Friday, May 30, 2008
Current mood: fabulous

I did something today that I've never done in my entire life! Me, "anti-chick flick Christine" went to see a chick flick...and shed a tear! I went to see Sex And The City today during the middle of the day. My logic was that the theater would be pretty empty because normal people are at work at 3:45 on a Friday, right? WRONG. When I got in line, there were signs plastered on the box office windows stating that a few of the evening shows were already sold out (thanks to Fandango I presume.) The 3:45 on a Friday crowd consists mostly of geriatrics & retirees. And much to my dismay, the little old man in front of me (think beige Mr. Rogers type button up sweater, Rockports and a hearing aid) asked for 2 tickets for Sex And The City! Wow! Has he ever even seen the show? I mean, it comes on way past old folks bedtime right? Maybe he watched it on the east coast feed? *shrugs* So, I got my ticket and rushed into the theater because the movie was about to start. And I don't frequent chick flicks so the crowd looked exactly how I imagined it would...groups of girlfriends laughing and giggling and sharing Twizzlers & Jujube's (do they still make those?) One of the girls in front of me was on her Blackberry making reservations for drinks for her group after the movie. I'm sure then they'll all sit around and sip martinis & talk about their lives sans the incredible wardrobes and fabulous apartments. There was so much estrogen in that theater I think it may have messed up my cycle. Seriously. And the previews! Oh God the previews. Saaaaaaappy chick flick previews. Some old "you complete me" type love story sappy shit. I had to giggle. It was so stereotypical! The chicks were eating it up. That stuff is a fairy tale y'all! Maybe that's why so many of us are single. Another blog for another day. Anywho, after the sappy previews, the lights started to lower and the applause began. Oh dear...

I'm girlie, and I'm a girlie girl and I'm even sappy....but I'm not a chick flick girl. I'm an enigma, I know. But Sex And The City is the exception to that rule. The Manolos! Andre Leon Talley! The Dior! The Lacroix! The Vuitton! The Fendi! Man oh man, it was a feast for my eyes. You know, that damn Patricia Field almost drove me into the poor house I tells ya. I was a Dior whore because of her. In college we had to create a magazine for a project in some class and my magazine was called "Diorella". And I got an A, thank you very much! I learned what a Fendi Baguette was because of Carrie Bradshaw. And the Dior Saddle. And Christian Louboutins! And I just HAD to have a Gucci walker! And Mirakami Vuitton! I remember being glued to the television every Sunday night for years and years taking mental notes and learning the art of mixing couture with vintage (while sipping a special pink martini that I'd start concocting just as The Soprano's credits were rolling.) Good times...So yeah, due to the fact that I haven't eaten solids in 4 days (mixed with the Al Green "How Do You Mend A Broken Heart" that was playing) I welled up damnit! In my right eye. And that shit overflowed. But it was just the right eye so it doesn't count as crying! I can't believe I welled up at a chick flick. I just had 2 teeth pulled on that side and I think I have an infection in that ear so I'm pretty sure things aren't working well over there including my tear ducts. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. And my allergies must've been acting up the night of the series finale 4 years ago too.

<-------not allergic to anything

But no one ever reads my blogs so this shall continue to remain a secret...

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Office

2008-04-08T10:00:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Current mood:resilient

So, today started off like any other day. Woke up, hit snooze one too many times. Dragged my ass into the bathroom to make myself presentable for work, and walked out the door 10 minutes after I should’ve been sitting at my desk. I got to work at about 20 after 8:00, sat my stuff down, and started my normal morning ritual. Checking emails, checking Myspace, sipping on my soy chai, etc. At about 8:30 I get a call from our little HR lady saying to come by her office. So, I headed over and my supervisor was sitting in there. I’m like "oh shit...I’m about to get it for being late." Nope. Well, I did get it though. As in LAID OFF. UGGGGHHHHH! So, yeah...my boring job is officially over. Due to the recession and the way the economy is going right now I am jobless. They were careful to point out that it had nothing to do with my job performance and that I’m eligible for rehire. I allowed myself to feel sorry for myself for about 30 minutes. But I’ve been on the phone making calls & trynna make it happen for the past 2 hrs. I’ll be alright. But fuuuuuuuuuuck! WHY couldn’t they have told me this shit at 5:00 yesterday???Rat bastards...Off to the gym I go.

Steen & Jea's Excellent Adventure

2008-03-31T16:25:00.000-07:00

Monday, March 31, 2008
Current mood:hyphy

Recap: Ms. Swan "you only get-a one-a free cookie."
Letting G take us all the way to BFE
Demetria hooking it UP!
Scrapers & Thizzing
Sinus blocking cologne
Salty Margaritas
My elevator not having a 6th floor
Joe...he doesn’t take requests, he sells pianos.
G’s shower shots to both of our heads
’From Elegant to Elephant" (fatter than a muh-fukka!)
"Mama used to say ’don’t you rush the ghetto!’"
Using your hand or sleeve when you sneeze
"Grown-Up"
"Lady Boy"
Going to ’shoe jail’ at the airport after setting off the ’too sexy’ wand (the old brotha agreed...Jea is hiding WMD’s.)
Cookies that I smuggled in my pocket...and the Milanos, Pirates Booty, 18’’ pizza, medium cheese pizza, tiramisu, salad and wings that followed.
Me trying coffee & Jamba Juice and STILL being stopped up!
Wallet getting left in the room...
G’s music review, causing us to do 30 and catch EVERY yellow light
"Ass" and "Titties"
"602" was the SPOT!
Joanne’s right across the street!
"CAKE" and his mixed friend "Marble"
Jea's Madagascar jacket.
What it do! (What it DON’T do!)
H.A.M. having all that carry-on and nothing to wash his ass with!
Y can get in to all the illest weddings in his uniform!
Partying like rockstars!
Waking up at 2 a.m. and thinking we accidentally bought adult flicks
Y sending Jea a picture of a cat (your turn!)
"What do you call a mermaid in a koi pond? The other woman."
Our girl Erin & our boy Juan @ Goosecross (aka J.G.!)
Taking bets on who looked like they’d close the bathroom door!
G’s suitcase was bigger than ours...but missing ALL of the essentials.
"Black Man & Asian Lady" & sexy chocolate at the flea market (I don’t want fleas!)
And the man with the purple toe.
Arguing with Tanisha over squirrels ("That is NOT a squirrel, cuz this dude said it was a Chipmunk and squirrels have fluffy brown tails.")
Discovering that you’re Ovo-Intolerant (PRICELESS!)

A Horny Manuel

2008-03-16T16:47:00.000-07:00

Sunday, March 16, 2008
Current mood: tired

Why am I up blogging at 3:00 am? I’ll tell you why. Because I broke one of my rules. If you know me, I typically turn my phone to silent by 10:30 every night. I don’t want any late night bad news calls waking me, or random people with the wrong number calling. Once my sleep is interrupted it’s very difficult for me to return. So, last night I fell asleep with my phone on vibrate and, in all places, under my pillow. I fell asleep, looking forward to the possibility of sleeping 10 hours if I wanted. Ah, an uninterrupted slumber. Snoring away all the week’s stress and strain (half-wit coworkers, looney Myspace stalkers, fucking reverend’s, etc.) and waking up late Saturday morning refreshed and rejuvenated, just in time for my pedicure. But, alas my dreams (literally) came to a halt when I received a 2:00 am phone call. I woke up startled, heart beating fast, not knowing what the hell was going on. I looked up at he television that was still playing to see a serial killer in an orange jumpsuit being interviewed on MSNBC (I don’t like to watch sleep friendly programs before bed. I’ve gotta work on that.) My phone vibrated again and I looked at the caller ID to see a (323) number. My sweetie doesn’t live in (323) so whoever this is better be in serious peril. I mumbled "hello" and the person hung up! So, I called right back. You woke me AND hung up on me? Naw son...

Caller: (high pitched Spanish accent) "Hello?"

Me: "Who is this?"

Caller: (in a high pitched Spanish accent) "Manuel?" (it sounded like a question)

Me: (mumbles) "Fucking Manuel." (hangs up)

So, now I’m awake, upset because my slumber has been disturbed by a horny high-pitched Manuel in the (323). Doesn’t this bastard have anyone he can bootycall in his own damn area code?! I got up to use the bathroom, irritated and startled. By now my phone is on silent like it should’ve been before I went to sleep. I went to plug the phone into the charger & noticed that I had a new voicemail. It was from my horny little Hispanic friend. I’m thinking "this will be rich. I’ve got to listen to this."

Voice Message: "My bad, I dialed the wrong number. Christine, this is Bondi. But damn, when you called back I was, you know...I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble or nothing. I don’t know what your situation is, but I accidentally called your number by mistake. This is my new cell phone number. But, uh anyway if you don’t remember who I am that’s cool too. But, uh you know...just be easy sweetie, it’s not that serious over a phone call out of the blue at 2:00 in the morning. You don’t need to go that hard. So just relax, everything’s ok. I hope everything’s ok with you. Um, seems like you’re stressed out about a lot, but whatever. Take care of yourself."

Oooooh, child! You know I called this fool back ready to give him the ’fuck you reverend" treatment. Um, and why the fake accent homeboy? See, last November (the 1st weekend of November to be exact) I went out with a girlfriend of mine to Garden of Eden (a club in L.A.) I’d had a couple of drinks and was feeling festive. I started chatting with this dude (about what I can’t remember...I just said I’d had a few drinks!) and I gave him my number. Dude called me like the next day. (Isn’t there like a phone number grace period or something?) I didn’t answer. He called again the day after that. I didn’t answer. And he proceeded to blow up my spot. So, even if I wanted to talk to him, I didn’t want to anymore. Too desperado! Over the next few weeks he calls...and calls...and calls. I talked to my bff about the excessiveness. My complaint was about them either ignoring you or blowing you up, and wanting a happy medium. Me personally, if I happen to meet someone out & we exchange numbers I will call them once...maybe twice. But if they don’t answer or call back I give up. If they want to link, they know where to find me. I’m not sweating a stranger (even though I was looking FIYA that night, so I kinda understand. LOL!) The day before Thanksgiving he called me from his job. And again from his cell. I actually answered this time. This was the 1st time we’d talked since the night we met. It was brief, I was cordial. It was Thanksgiving...I was on my way to South Coast Plaza to do a little pre-holiday shopping so I was feeling nice. Maybe this gave him false hope, because on Thanksgiving, he called me twice. And sent me a text. Called me at late as 10 something that night. Mind you, each time he calls he leaves a voicemail. Over the holidays he called a handful of times, each time still leaving voicemail. So, fast forward to this morning. I saw this dude once in my life 4 months ago. He has a new phone and my number somehow made the transfer? Why are you accidentally calling someone you met ONCE 4 months ago AT 2:00 IN THE MORNING?! And when you get a sleepy, groggy voice you think I’m stressed out?! How about just apologizing for waking me. Better yet, how about NOT CALLING ME! I sent him a text since his new voicemail box isn’t set up saying "stressed out about a lot? u woke me @ 2am. please delete my number. thx."

Yo, fellas. There are certain rules about late night calls. You can not invite yourself into late night callville. You have to be invited. Anything past 10:00 without prior consent is unacceptable. (This has been a Public Service Announcement.) If this fool calls me back EVER, sweddagawd he’s getting it. Please pray for him y’all. In my world, NO ONE is exempt from getting cussed out. Equal opportunity up in here!

His number is (323) 401-9587. Feel free to call him anytime in your best faux foreign accent.

Bloody Hell!

2008-01-20T01:26:00.000-08:00

So, Friday was the end of a weird, long, exhausting week. Without going into too many details, I had a mini-meltdown Friday evening. I've been feeling kinda...not myself for a few weeks now. I can't quite put my finger on it. It's like, my energy is messed up. Not just my physical energy levels (I was asleep by 6:30 a few nights ago, and up til 4:00 this morning so go figure) but my ENERGY energy. Like right now, I feel...weird. Like I'm in a cloud or bubble or something. I'm starting a 4 day fast ASAP.Anyway, so back to Friday. I was headed to L.A. to a screening of La Vie en Rose with C and traffic was comical. I mean, it took me like 10 minutes to go a mile. I had about 25 more miles to go and about 40 minutes to get there so you do the math. Needless to say, I hopped off the freeway and headed back home. I stopped by my moms for a bit and ended up hanging out there for about 2 hrs watching Def Comedy Jam and hanging with her, boo-boo and his dad. The visit actually helped my mood. Anyway, I rushed home meet a girlfriend and we headed to one of our new fave watering holes. And water we did! The place was packed and there were 2 bartenders. Apparently all of the bartenders were fired like a week ago. This place is a trip. By the end of the night, the bartenders, bouncers, everyone is FAAAADED! Who knows what "office politics" caused the owner to fire all of his seasoned bartenders, but I digress. So, he hired this scallywag of a sea creature with no bartending experience (but she had quite a rack on her, so go figure.) I mean, come on chick! Spend a few hours on webtender.com and brush up! She didn't know the ingredients of ANYTHING ('water with lemon? what's in that?') Ok, I'm exaggerating a little (moi?) but you get it. It made for an adventure every time we went to order a drink (because seasoned bartender was swamped, so we were forced to go to scallywag!) Scally, we'll call her, had to keep asking Seasoned "what's in a Purple Hooter?" "how do you make an Oatmeal Cookie" I mean, basic bar shit that you'd know just from hanging out in a bar. And by the looks of it, she's no stranger to bars if you catch my drift. So, we had a few shots, had a few laughs, talked quite a bit of shit per usual. We had this running joke that evening. Apparently quite a few people didn't check weather.com before stepping out. One girl had on a thin cotton halter top, an obscenely short denim skirt (like so short, if you drop something, fuck it. It's a loss.) and some little platform sandals that were made out of straw or wicker or something. So the joke was that Summer called and wants it's outfit back. So, my girlfriend and I were in the bathroom bantering back & forth and were keeping each other in stitches. "Hey, I just got off the phone with Summer. She said she wants her skirt back. She's sending Winter to pick it up." And others began joining in. Catty drunk bathroom banter. Good times, good times. It was effing hilarity though. I felt like we'd been there for a long time but in reality it was only about 2 1/2 hours. We headed home, I got dropped off, thanked my friend for a lovely evening and I ran my happy ass up the stairs. Struggled with the lock for a few seconds, got in, slammed the door (I think) and then...I felt like something jumped up and bit me. I mean, it was like FIRE no lie. And I look down at my finger and see this bullshit:

Are you kidding me right now? I mean COME ON dude. Who the hell snatches THEIR ENTIRE NAIL off closing a door?! Answer: ME, that's who. Ugh, alcohol + open wound = bloody mess. It hurt SO bad. I just laughed. (Is that shock?) I mean, actual laughter, like I was cracking up. It hurt so bad that I laughed?! I've cried from pain, felt faint from pain, puked from pain, but never laughed. Lord help this child...Anyway, I'm having to make special accommodations for my gimpy finger now. It's an important finger too. It's not like its a pinky (you don't even need to use your pinky when you drink tea!) This is the finger I use to give directions. I use this finger to dial the phone, to apply lip balm. I think it's probably my favorite finger. And now it's out of commission. Damnit...that's what I get for talking shit.

Pissed!

2008-01-10T10:52:00.000-08:00

So, I came outside this morning to find this fuckery:

YES, some assholes STOLE the wheels off my car last night in front of my house. They were kind enough to leave my car on milk crates, and left me the bolts and a nifty little camouflage flashlight. Happy New Year!

Women Are ANIMALS!

2007-11-08T19:14:00.000-08:00

I just returned from the launch of Roberto Cavalli's line for H & M. It was NUCKING FUTS! I've had the launch marked on my calendar for at least 6 months. I mean, like in my work Outlook with a reminder. And in my phone (just like when Louboutin came to OC on 10/13.) And on my wall calendar (I'm old school…I still buy those.) I moved jobs 3 months ago, added it to the new Outlook. Woke up Tuesday morning in a cold sweat because I dreamt that I missed the launch. It was THAT effing serious. And I've had my eye on one particular item. It's this gorgeous flowing chiffon leopard-print gown. I could picture myself in it. I'd walk into an event wearing that dress and angels would start singing (*cue fans & smoke machine*). Just kidding…but I wanted that dress pretty effing bad.

I planned my attack. I called around to H & M stores yesterday to find out who was carrying the line and what time they'd open today. I discovered that there was only ONE effing store in all of O.C. carrying the line. And it's this little tiny store at South Coast Plaza just across from Bloomies. Already I'm mentally prepared to bumrush that spot with my cat-like reflexes, grabbing dresses and high stepping broads like the dude on the Heisman Trophy, just before doing a tuck and roll & landing on my feet in line. But alas, my dreams were crushed at 10:38 a.m. this morning. The store opened at 10:00. People had been in line since 4:00 am!!!! As I pulled up in the parking lot, I saw women coming out of the mall with bags & bags...and bags. NEVER a good sign.

When I practically power-walked into the mall & when I entered H & M it was a madhouse. The only clothing left was that on the mannequins (which, BTW was not for sale!!!!!!!!!!) !!!!! Sorry, needed more exclamation marks for that one. Women were clutching piles of dresses, scarves, jeans, bras, jewelry ANYTHING Cavalli, not giving a damn about sizes or anything. One lady was guarding a pile of Cavalli in a corner. She looked like she might be able to throw down so I didn't test her. So here I am with a few other late birds (AKA "folks with jobs") stuck with nothing. My first instinct was to turn around and leave but I'd waited so long for this day I thought I'd stick it out in the "Go Back" line.

The "Go Back" line is comprised of people who are waiting for others to go in and try on Cavalli and if the clothes don't fit, they go back to the floor. I mean, desperation times 50! I can't remember when I last felt so desperate and pitiful. I'm waiting in a line hoping that someone will try something on, not like it, and it would also happen to be something that I'd want…and that fits me. But I waited, and waited…and waited. No one tried on shit! Well, one chick was trying on a zebra print mini that some French lady had been STALKING around the store. She stood watch outside of her dressing room a said in her French accent "If theese do not feeet her, she give to meee!" Then Frenchie proceeds to bump my purse about 20 times while peeking around the corner trying to see if the girl was coming out of the dressing room. I finally had to tell her to back up off me. Another chick was trying on practically the entire line (including my leopard dress! Argh! Didn't even look cute on her! Flat booty heffa!) but she held on to everything. With her pussified husband in tow (who was going around with the things that she didn't want, but instead of sending them to go backs was using them to bargain with others in the store.) Yes, HE was exchanging things with other women. "I'll give you this jacket for that dress." I heard him say that. Like Strangé said "Puuuuuuuss-puuuuuss-puuuuuuss!"

After waiting in the GBL for about 20 minutes, I saw from across the sea of bad hair extensions and even worse breast implants a sight to behold. A guy carrying a big black crate full of…Cavalli leggings! I told my new little go back line friend to stay put, hold my spot and I'd go score us some leggings. I got to the tables just as he was dumping out the container and managed to have my pick of sizes. And then…a stampede of women rushed me! I almost lost my life y'all! But I made it out unscathed and with 5 pair of Cavalli leggings. Yay! I took 2 pair back to my little GBL friend and kept 2 for myself. I was going to toss the 5th pair to the lions when I saw another pitiful soul with empty hands (*cue violin*) and gave them to her instead. A little fashion "pay it forward", right? I got right in line to purchase my tights and a girl in front of me gave me a pair of black, white and grey leopard print jeans (score!) So happy now! I didn't get my "angels singing" dress, but I did come out of it with something. Here's the dress. Tell this wouldn't be BANGIN' on Ms. Fox.

This is the 2nd time this week Roberto broke my heart. See this 5" stiletto???!!!

Sigh…

Faux Pas!

2007-10-18T16:47:00.000-07:00

Current mood: amused

Yesterday I made THE ULTIMATE faux pas…

In the morning as I was heading out the door for work, I couldn't decide on footwear. I was wearing a cute new dress in fall colors & wasn't sure if I should wear my usual open toed 4" brown Marc Jacob sandals or luggage brown Marc Jacob boots. So, I tried a boot on one foot and a heel on the other and checked myself out in the mirror. The sandals looked better. So, I ditched the boot and ran out the door.

Fast forward: Just before noon, I got a call from the receptionist that a package had just been delivered for me. It was the Dior saddle that I'd purchased on Ebay. I excitedly ran to the front desk to get it & when I opened it, my heart sank. It screamed knockoff! So, I called my girl Tara at Dior and she told me to come on down for a inspection.

As I'm pulling up to South Coast Plaza, I'm checking myself out in the mirror to make sure I'm presentable (after all, I'd have to walk between Chanel & Hermes to get to Dior which is adjacent to Escada & Cavalli!) The sun hit my left leg & I glanced down & noticed…..I HAD AN ASHY LEG!!!! Yes, me…Ms. Palmer's Cocoa Butter had ONE ashy leg! So, I ran back through my morning toilette in my mind. I remembered getting out of the shower & sitting on the bed & lotioning my legs. So, how the hell could I have ONE ashy leg? It was ashy from just below the knew down to the toes. Like SUPER EXTRA ashy. Like National Geographic ashy. Then it dawned on me…it was that damned boot! So now I'm driving through SCP's parking lot with one hand on the steering wheel and the other frantically digging around in the glove box & center console trying to find my emergency lotion. I couldn't find it anywhere. Damnit…I took it out of the car last week! It was really hot one day & I was afraid it would leak. So, I had no choice but to go into Dior with my now confirmed knockoff and ONE ashy leg.

I was a haute mess…

Cops

2007-09-24T21:00:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching an episode of my favorite reality T.V. show...Cops. ("Huh! Bad boys! Whatchu gun, whatchu gonna do!") Damn, Inner Circle made out like bandits with that one didn't they?! Here's a little known factoid about moi. I have a relative who was on Cops. This was a proud moment in my family's history, let me tell you!!! I was in high school, but man do I remember this like it was yesterday! A close friend of the family called to say that he saw my uncle on Cops. The family friend lives out of town and caught an earlier broadcasting of the episode so we were able to make the calls and gather around the T.V. in time to watch the spectacle. Cops San Diego - the officers got called out to a domestic dispute. They arrive at the house and my uncle answers the door. The officers told him that the neighbors called because there was a disturbance. He's calm and swears there's no problem. His wife comes to the door and says everything is ok. The cops leave, but not before warning him that if they get called back out he's going to jail. Fast forward to a few hours later. The cops are called AGAIN. The neighbors say they're really going at it this time. So, the officers show up and knock on the door. And my uncle answers the door...COVERED IN FLOUR! And jelly...and eggs...and ketchup. Yeah...take that one in for a minute...speaking in a normal voice like there's no problem. "Hello officers, lovely day isn't it?"So, the camera crew comes in and the kitchen is wrecked (you know they weren't going to pass this one up!) There isn't a surface that isn't covered in food. Talk about bad aim! Cupboards, counter tops, floors, walls covered. I mean, if this scene was in a movie, you'd say "they went way overboard with that shit. There's no way anyone having a real food fight would cover EVERY surface in the kitchen!" Yeah, like that. Here's the funny part though (yeah, funnier...imagine that.) None of us had been in contact with this uncle in months...maybe even longer. They take him away in the police car covered in jelly & shit. As God is my witness, I swear no sooner than the episode ended he calls to ask for money because he has a court date in San Diego Monday and he needed to take the train down there (they'd moved out of town after the little incident.) This fool didn't realize that we'd all just watched the entire thing play out on T.V. and he tried to lie about it. I think he said he had to go to traffic court or some shit. Dumbass...

Ok, one more thing though about Cops. What is it with the people all effed up on PCP? These dudes are identical. Big tall muscular black dude, butt naked, dripping with sweat, big buggy eyes repeating some random shit. Usually running down the middle of the street, often bleeding. Big ass mosaic covering his parts. Busting through fences and brick walls. Sometimes he'll get up on the roof or go into a crawl space and they have to drag his ass out. And his mama is there in her house coat begging him to stop and still, it's hopeless. It takes about 10 officers to get this guy subdued but not before he busts through a pair of handcuffs! What on earth would EVER make anyone want to try PCP? Are they curious to know what it feels like to have super human strength? To bust through a window head first and be unphased by it? To get shot and still keep running full speed? It has to make you feel real hot too, because PCP and nudity are synonymous. It's hardly a recreational drug. I don't think dudes sit around with the homies smoking PCP (or however you ingest it.) And these guys always have such ripped bodies! They clearly go to the gym or have weights in the front yards or something. Seems like a conflict of interests to me. Dunno....

People

2007-09-24T10:32:00.000-07:00

Monday, September 24, 2007

Let me start off by saying that I am TIRED…I got NO sleep last night! So I'm going to try my best not to rant…too much.

One of the things that I was taught in elementary school that has stuck in my mind now for 20+ years is The Golden Rule…"Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." I remember in 2nd or 3rd grade our teacher made a huge deal about The Golden Rule. I mean, we spent like a whole week on it (or maybe it was just an hour or two, but that shit seemed like forever.) My school was huge on teaching us how to be good citizens. We even had "Citizen of the Week" in our class, assigned to 1 boy and 1 girl who were the best little helpers or whatever for the week. It was never clear what the criteria was for selecting "Citizen of the Week", and it always seemed that the same kids were picked week after week. So, the rest of us pretty much felt like we were shitty citizens when we weren't picked…but that's a different story. Anyway, our teacher gave us examples of how to apply The Golden Rule, and we in turn regurgitated this information and it in turn drove our parents ape shit. But the lesson was an important one nonetheless – always treat others the way you'd want them to treat you. Any way you slice it, that's not such a bad thing to teach little impressionable kiddies. I must say though…I'm pretty convinced that this rule wasn't taught to everyone outside of Irvine Unified School District. People are so inconsiderate that it's comical at times.

Example, I was at Target yesterday. It was Sunday; the new mailer just came out…I guess I had a death wish. But I had to grab some essentials so I had no choice but to brave the crowds. I pulled into the parking lot and it was PACKED. Kids are darting in and out between cars, big vans are taking up two spots & everyone and their abuelita was there. The parking gods were with me though because there was a spot right up front! As I pull into it, I notice that there's a shopping cart in the spot. I shit you not, 2 spaces to my left was the little shopping cart corral. Some lazy bastard just left the cart there in the ONLY open space within 100 feet of the door instead of walking 15 feet to park the damn thing with all of the other carts. And I look up to see a woman across the parking lot taking her ONE BAG out of her cart and parking the cart BEHIND the car parked next to her, before getting into her car and driving off. So, when this other person comes out of the store he won't be able to back his car out of his spot without first finding a place for the cart that old lazy ass left for him to move. I'm watching this lady carefully park the cart behind someone else's car, parallel to their bumper. I mean, she was careful…making sure it didn't roll out into traffic. What's the difference in that and just saying eff it and shoving the fuckin cart out into the middle of the road?! (That would have been very entertaining to watch!) So, when this guy comes out of the store he is now faced with having to return his cart as well as the cart of this lazy heffa?! Amazing…

People are assholes. I mean, not every single person in this world…but on a grand scale…as a whole…people are assholes. I'd say maybe 50% of people in the world are assholes. Walk through your office & count the assholes and tell me I'm wrong. Go…right now. I'll wait...

What'd you get? 50%? Maybe 60%? See, told you!!!

People are selfish, rude and inconsiderate. They let elevators close in your face, talk on cell phones in the movie theater, put calls on speaker when they could just as easily pick up the receiver and spare us the noise, and they don't wipe their sweat off of gym equipment. They sneeze/cough without covering their mouths, they don't hold doors open when they see that your hands are full, they take the tops off of muffins and leave the bottom part for someone else, they cut you off on the road and then give YOU the finger, steal parking spots you've been waiting on for 10 minutes, and don't call you back when they say they will. Oh, and my new favorite…they stand you up for dates (LOVE that!!!) And these same people piss and moan when bad shit happens to them (and they can't seem to figure out why!) I'm ranting, but there is a point to it. If you don't already do this, please try. Try to put yourself in the shoes of other people. The world would be such a better place if everyone did. I mean, seriously. If you see someone drop their papers and shit is flying all over the parking lot, stop to help them. It's what…30 seconds out of your life? If that 30 seconds is going to make you late to wherever you're headed, your ass was going to be late any damn way. If you flake on someone, apologize for it the next time you talk to them. A sincere apology…not some old bullshit. You'd want them to do the same for you, wouldn't you? If you just answered no, you're one of the 50%-60% I was just referring to and I encourage you to never procreate. You never know though…you might need that person for something one day and they'll be less inclined to lend you a hand. Everything you put out into the universe both good and bad comes back to you. If you're a considerate person, that will come back to you. If you're inconsiderate and disregard others, that will come back to you as well…asshole.

Stinky Food

2007-09-17T11:11:00.000-07:00

Monday, September 17, 2007

Why do people insist upon eating stinky food at their desks? These people are inconsiderate martyrs who want to make it a point that they're just sooooo busy or soooo dedicated that they barely have time to eat lunch and certainly don't have 10 free minutes to step away from their desks to eat the stinky leftovers that they brought from home in a designated dining area. There's a guy in my office who eats…I don't know what the eff it is…some kind of stinky, pungent concoction EVERY single day. I feel kind of sorry for him because it's clear to me that this is the only dish his wife knows how to make and it's the SAME thing every day. Unless, of course she makes a variety of different dishes that just happen to smell the same way. It's inexplicable really…almost like a curried something with chili peppers, onions, and garlic. It hits your nostrils the way the aromas of an Indian Sweet Shop do the first time you walk into one. Kind of slaps you in the face like a Tandoori and Nag Champa diaper mixed with body funk. Anyway, I was running down the hall to the copier this morning, hair freshly pressed blowing behind me and I ran passed Mr. Stinky's desk. The pungent aroma assaulted my nostrils and I whipped my head around, causing my hair to stick to my MAC glossed lips. I made this "what the fuck?!" half angry/half confused FULLY violated look staring at the back of his head and my cube neighbor caught me in mid glare and began laughing out loud hysterically. The laughter snapped me back into reality, thank God! I think my expression pretty much summed up how he and others within a 50 foot radius were feeling. I mean, ok so the curry Tandoori/Vindaloo onion whatever-the-fuck smells good to YOU. Great! But come on…no one wants to smell that shit at 10:00 on a Monday morning!!!! I'm sure his wife opened a window or two while making it for dinner. In an interior office we don't have the luxury of opening a window. That funk will linger until tomorrow when he brings more in. PEOPLE! If you work in an office and you're sooooo busy that the future of the company is riding on your shoulders and if you take 10 minutes to step away from your desk to eat, the walls of Jericho will come tumbling down then PLEASE for fucksake don't eat any of the following at your desk:
1.) Indian Food
2.) Mexican Food
3.) Chitterlings or Greens (the vinegar smell in the greens will get you slapped.)
4.) ANY Fish/Seafood (NO clam chowder. New England…Manhattan…doesn't matter. I don't care if it is in a bread bowl. It's fish soup! Cold tuna salad is ok; hot ass tuna melt – not ok)
5.) Italian Food
6.) Carribean Food
7.) Pad Thai or any other Thai dish
8.) Basically anything hot and spicy that was warmed in the microwave before bringing it to your desk.

I love many of the foods mentioned above (except chittlerlings…I'm from Orange County!) but just because I love them doesn't mean the person next to me loves them. Be considerate of your neighbors. Someday when you're big and important and get an office with A DOOR, you can bring in a pig on a spit for all I care. But until then…sandwiches are for the desk, Tandoori is for the kitchen. NO EXCEPTIONS!

Smooches!

P-U

2007-09-10T09:27:00.000-07:00

Monday, September 10, 2007
Current mood: aggravated

Why do so many old women wear the same stinky perfume? Do women get to a certain age & suddenly stop liking perfume that actually smells good? As we get older does our perception of what smells good & what doesn't change? There's this certain old lady perfume smell that you never smell on younger women. It's kind of musky & spicy. WHO manufactures that stinky mess and where do you go to buy it? Mervyn's or Sears perhaps??? Or maybe Rite-Aid. I bet they sell it in a gift set year 'round. You probably get a talc powder and little wrist watch or picture frame with it. How do you hear about it? Do you smell it on another old lady and exclaim "Gladys! That perfume is FABULOUS! Who makes it? I simply must have it for myself!" There's a woman in my office who keeps walking by my cube and she's wearing Eau de Granny and it's violating my sinuses right now…and it lingers...like Pigpen's funk cloud. Damn, I wish I had a sinus infection right now…

Sweat

2007-07-18T10:13:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Current mood: aggravated
I went out Saturday night to celebrate a childhood friend's 33rd b-day. I was at this club in Long Beach that was so crowded, seriously the fire marshall should have been called. If you were just standing around you were sweating, that's how hot this place was. I really wanted to get my groove on but didn't want to catch the vapors so I decided that the happy medium was to be near the dance floor, not on it. So, as soon as some wack ass T-Pain song came on, a few girls in too-tight jeans jumped up a' la "that's my jaaaaam!" So, I swooped in like a seagull and managed to secure a now vacant seat. I situated myself on one of the bar stools near the dance floor and placed my hands on my thighs, palms down (I'm trying not to cross my arms as much; it's supposed to send a message that you're standoffish, unapproachable, blah blah blah...) In my peripheral, I see this sweaty little dark figure in a Bill Cosby sweater wiping his face with his hands and walking away from the dance floor. I start watching the T-Pain girls (**how do they know this song? I've never heard it in my entire life…look at them! Oh, this is a hot mess. Why does T-Pain use that damn voice thing on every song?!**) I was so focused on the ghetto girls & the ghetto Roger, that I did not realize that the dark figure was entering my personal space. I turned...just as he grabs my hands! And his hands were SOAKING wet with warm sweat! I grimaced, shrieked, snatched my hands back, and immediately wiped them off!!!

Dark Figure: Hey baby, you wanna dance?
Me: GROSS!!!! You just put your sweaty hands on me!
Dark Figure: Aw baby, ain't nothing wrong with a little sweat! You sittin' there lookin' all fine & stuff, you need to sweat too.
Me: Yes there is something wrong with sweat!
Dark Figure: Naw, ain't nothing wrong with sweat.
Me: Yes there is, there's something wrong with YOUR sweat! On ME!

He kept mumbling, but my ADD kicked in, so I tuned his frequency out. GROSS! Sweat = toxins leaving your body. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a germaphobe. I avoid shaking hands at all costs and if I touch a door knob, my mind won't rest until I get to some soap & water. Maybe I should have peed on him and said "hey baby, ain't nothing wrong with a little golden shower!"

F*ck List

2007-03-23T01:06:00.000-07:00

Friday, March 23, 2007
Current mood: crazy
You have to check out Tytus Penn's "F_cklist". To call it entertaining would be an understatement. http://www.myspace.com/tytuspennmusic Here's what I added to the mix. I'm a nut, but you already know that so enjoy! And while I'm at it, FUCK insomnia...
FUCK people who get mad at me because they're not in my top 8 or they don't like which position they're in on my page. It's called MYspace...it's MY shit! Be happy I don't delete your ass.
FUCK the fact that I can't get to sleep at night without sleeping pills. If they're habit forming, why does my doctor keep prescribing them? DUH!
FUCK mosquitos.
FUCK mayonnaise.
FUCK spiders.
FUCK Jim Jones (the rapper and the Kool-Aid dude...)
FUCK cats for eating the baby ducks outside. :(
FUCK you for being able to sell a million without saying nothin' on a track.
FUCK Gentrification.
FUCK drive-thru Starbucks. Ok, so you can't make your own coffee nor can you get out of the car??? You lazy bitch...do you want me to drink it for you too?
FUCK those amateur stripper "aerobics" classes. They're for bitches that wanted to be strippers but were too afraid to get up on the stage. "But it's a good workout!" So is fuckin'. If they offered a fuck class at CRUNCH would you sign up for that too?
FUCK Chinese Food/Video stores or Chinese Food/Southern Fried Chicken spots or Chinese Food/Donut Shops. Just fuck Chinese Food!
FUCK milk on the shelf that expires tomorrow.
FUCK those big, ugly, white, Frankenstein flip-flops girls wear! I've never seen a pair that didn't have black scuff marks on them. GROSS!
FUCK cheap weaves. And FUCK cheap weed.
FUCK men who think they know how to eat it...it's not an envelope hun. Use more than the tip of your tongue.
FUCK TIME WARNER CABLE!!!!!!!!!! I'm THIS close to getting a Dish, man...
FUCK people who drive slow when they're on the phone. If you can't multi-task, pull over to the shoulder bitch!
FUCK anyone who believes everything they see/read in the news. Hey stupid, who do you think controls the content? If you want to know what's going on, seek other sources (try BBC.COM to see what the world REALLY thinks about Americans..) Even NPR is a little suspect if you ask me...
FUCK Bush for thinking I wasn't paying attention when we first launched this "War On Terror". Uh, weren't we looking for Osama? I remember what I wore on the first day of kindergarten bitch! I can remember something you said 5 years ago. Last time I checked, Afghanistan and Iraq were like 1400 miles away from each other. Get a map!
FUCK being lactose intolerant.
FUCK that ugly girl who was the week 1 finalist in the King Magazine/Coors Light Model Search. I look 100 times better than she does...I should have won! ;)
FUCK all of these girls who take these horrible camera phone bathroom shots and put them on their page. Here's 1 of my butt. Here's 1 of my lips with lots of gloss. Here's 1 with my index finger pointing at the side of my mouth and my eyes bucked like "oops!"
FUCK anyone who doesn't make their Photobucket pics private. If I see your nasty coochie, I'm reporting your ass!
FUCK "ma" "shorty" "queen" "wifey" and "boo". I'm 30 nigga, call me by my name.
FUCK anyone who has music on their voicemail recording. Are you serious? I had music on my pager voicemail back in '93. Since you like to keep it old school "187" "304" "6969" "143". How you like them apples?
FUCK apples.
FUCK rappers for acting like Patron is some new shit. I can't even drink it anymore without thinking "its on once again, Patron once again." Damnit.
FUCK CPS for not taking Britney Spears' kids away from her. If a single black woman with 2 kids gets reported by a neighbor because they think she doesn't have enough food in her fridge, they'll throw her kids into the system, but this bitch is running around bald headed beating up cars with umbrellas and she still has her kids? FUCK them with a double-dong and no Astroglide.
FUCK my ex-boyfriend for trying to buy me an ugly ass Marquis engagement ring when I SPECIFICALLY told him I don't like Marquis diamonds! Saw that shit and had to dip, yo...
FUCK people who don't have spell check.
FUCK anyone who calls me "KIT-SOON". It's Kitsune. "KIT-SOO-NAY". It's Japanese. Look it up. And use your phonics.
FUCK public schools that don't teach phonics. :)
FUCK people who talk down to restaurant staff. I HOPE they spit in your damn food!
FUCK the mailman for arbitrarily stopping the delivery of my mail for two weeks because my name wasn't written in my box. I've been here 3 years...YOU just started on this route! You're brand new bitch, not me!
FUCK Richard Fox.
FUCK that nasty, white, grape flavored shit they make you drink before you get a CT scan.
FUCK the time change. I mean, who do we think we are to decide what time it's going to be? "Oh, and why don't we make it earlier this year..." How fucking self righteous can you be! While we're at it, why don't we move December to where July is so I can wear shorts on Christmas. FUCK "Six Feet Under" for ending...and for showing how everyone dies. I was messed up for a week...for real. And FUCK The Soprano's for taking 2 damn years between seasons!
FUCK people who use public bathrooms & don't wash their hands. I'm a germaphobe because of you. Thanks.
FUCK 20/20 for showing hotel room bedding, walls & floors under a black light. I saw that in highschool and to this DAY I take the comforter off wherever I stay...and walk around in flip-flops. Nut and feces everywhere y'all.
FUCK FedEx for not delivering my best friend's b-day present to her on time today. Her 30th b-day is TODAY, not tomorrow. Hence, NEXT DAY.
FUCK whoever told Fergie she could sing.
FUCK that stupid "Irreplaceable" song. If you could have "another" him in a minute, remind me again why are you replacing him? The idea is to replace him with someone who is not like him dumbass. Hence REPLACE. Otherwise, you're just exchanging his ass.
FUCK people who type solely in abbreviation. When did we become so busy that we no longer have time to type complete words?
FUCK people who say "FUCK BUSH"...but they've NEVER voted for anything more than which video they want to see on 106th & Park. Tell me who ran in the last presidential election...I'm waiting...
FUCK Ken Jennings for winning on Jeopardy! for like 30 weeks or something crazy like that. Actually, I liked him so fuck me on that one.
FUCK Howard Stern for moving to Sirius because my mornings suck now. And FUCK him for leading me to believe that the SIRI stock was going to do something. Bullshit...
FUCK Common for performing for less than an hour at HOB Anaheim in February...and doing the EXACT same set that he did when I saw him over a year ago. "Ok, now he's going break dance. Next he'll pull a girl up on the stage, they'll dance to Adore & Bump-N-Grind. Then he'll grab her ass"...blah, blah, blah. The audience wanted an encore...this nigga was already on the 5 FWY!
FUCK the girl at Walgreen's who just called me "ma'am!" And FUCK them for not fixing their sign...the "W" is blown out. I picked up my prescription from "Al Greens". I couldn't make that shit up if I tried!
UCK Trader Joe's for closing at 9:00 and Whole Foods for putting that FUNKY ass cheese RIGHT by the front door. I have to hold my breath every time I walk in there! One day I'm going to pass out in there, I swear. I'll bump my head and they'll offer me a bandage made out of organic hemp.
FUCK people who want to have entire conversations on my comments. "So, what's up. What are you doing tonight. Did you talk to so-and-so? Yeah, I saw such-and-such the other day..." shut up! Pick up the phone if you want to talk. I'm not approving that shit!
FUCK people who get mad when I don't approve their comments, and FUCK people who complain about comments left on their page. You have the option to approve all comments, stupid.
FUCK my metabolism for slowing down after 25.
FUCK 30 being the new 20. When I was 20, I could get up at 6:00am, work all day, go out that night and stay out until 3:00 a.m., sleep 4 hours and be at my desk 8:00 the next morning. Now I can't stay awake through a movie!
FUCK Rasta's who date white girls. That makes about as much sense as going to Shabazz and asking for a ham sandwich.
FUCK actors...such attention whores. Get over yourself...
FUCK Ticket Master's "surcharge" (you can't trust anyone with "Master" in their name!) :) FUCK the lady who did my Brazilian wax last week. She must have seen "40 Year Old Virgin". Had me in there about to yell out "Kelly Clarkson". I'm going back to my Russian lady in Beverly Hills...
FUCK my nail lady Sandy who I've been going to for 7 years for telling me that her name is Kelly now because the new nail shop already has a Sandy. Are you fucking serious? You're real name isn't even Sandy so you want me to call you a new fake name to replace your old fake name? Guog Mai Sandy! (That means FUCK YOU Sandy in Vietnamese!)
And FUCK my therapist for charging me a $30 co-pay. I feel better now than I do when I leave her office and this was FREE! ;)