I Scared Myself Straight

This weekend was cuh-razy!

So many things happened that could have been avoided but, true to form, I tackled them head on with my bow and arrow aimed for the gullet.

On Friday, I still hadn't found a way to be at peace with myself. I have a tendency to dwell on things and the episode with The Scorpio, blocking calls from my mother, dodging Averi, and not hearing from my brother were all weighing on me heavily. (Ethan is ok, I just haven't spoken to him in months. It makes me anxious).

I was driving along, minding the Mercedes in front of me. He was going 25 in a 40 and I had had enough. I waited my turn, put my blinker on, and changed lanes to the left all so he could cut me off and cross 3 lanes of traffic. I throw my hands up in the air, ask him what the fuck he's doing and glare in his direction. After he's made it from the middle right lane to the left-hand turn lane he glances into my car where I'm still scowling at him.

I drive another three lights and have managed to merge, with class and without incident, to the left turn lane. I've even turned by now. And I'm another two lights down this cross street when I hear someone yell into my car, "You got something you want to say to me?". I ignore it because I'm at the cool mall with the bus line and this won't be the first time I've been approached by riff-raff. But it's after he speaks again that I turn my head.

It's the Mercedes. I tell him to "...get away from me". There's no need for expletives in the first warning. He tells me that if I don't want trouble then I shouldn't do "that". Now I'm pissed. I roll the window all the way down and ask if he likes to teach lessons. I let him know that I'm a teacher too and if he doesn't have anything else to do on a Friday than to follow me around town, he can keep on because he'll get what he came for. He rolls his eyes and begins to mock me. I park the car and unbuckle my seat belt.

He doesn't know me. And I've forgotten who I am.

I reach around the back seat, grab my purse, and pull out the mace. I reach under the passenger seat and I'm getting the crowbar. It's when the car behind me honks that I remember who I really am and where I am. I'm ashamed of who I was about to become.

I was ten seconds away from becoming the girl that none of you know. The one who would never back down from a fight. The one who plans for the worst because she doesn't know that there's better. The girl who has all the wrong people on speed dial and makes sure you get that first, calm warning so that everything afterward can be justified.

I'm the girl who got into fights on the playground but had it excused because I got straight A's. The one who beat a freshman kid's ass in front of the Principal's office because he told everyone he had sex with my sister. I'm the one who walked back to her rapist's dorm with a gun. I'm the girl who left her drug dealing boyfriend but kept the inside contacts. I'm the girl who managed to do dirt but walk away with her hands clean.

I lived my life without fear. I didn't need to be afraid because I had nothing to live for.

This is where I should say that Jesus saved me but that would be a lie. Jesus didn't save me, love did.

Friday night I scared the shit out of myself because it occured to me that I was living like I had nothing to live for. And when you have nothing to live for you stop living. I don't want to lead a life where I merely exist.

But I've got to be my own hero because currently there's no one else here to save me.

When a Firm Hand and a Hierarchy Are Required

I don't ask for a lot. And I don't ask for two reasons: 1. People will look at me like I'm stupid because I never ask for anything so who the hell do I think I am to not only ask for something but ask for the whole god damned world. and 2. I'm not likely to get it.

When I do manage to allow myself to ask for something, it's only because I can't do it myself. Like replace a non-working cellular phone. Well, I guess I could do it myself but then I'd pay for it and if I was intending to pay for it I wouldn't have put insurance on it. Ya know?

So, I called one of the nation's largest cell providers and they tell me that I have to call the insurance company. I think, "Hallelujah! I knew getting insurance was a good idea!"* and I call the insurance company as directed.

The technician there isn't really a technician at all. She's someone who answered a multi-choice questionnaire and has some semblance of technical ability and so was deemed able to press enough letters that would allow the computer to spit out a diagnosis. I know because I had a job like that once. She/the computer has decided that although I didn't cause the damage I have to pay my deductible. I tend to disagree.

I tell her that I don't intend to buy another phone when I've had this one for 35 days and it's not working. I had a phone for 4 years before this one ** and she's severely mistaken if she believes that I'll be forking over $100 a month to keep a phone in my purse! She gives me the same old song until I tell her I want to speak with her manager. Did you know that she works in the only call center that doesn't have a hierarchy?

I called her on it and told her that I would not be filing a claim. So, she transferred me... to claims. I lit the new girl up. If only because she wanted to quote me the technician's notes. I told her I was aware of the conversation since I had been the only other party in it and that what I had was not an issue with comprehension but rather one of an unanswered question. How can they deem that I should be financially responsible for damage I didn't cause? No one except for me had even laid eyes on this phone.

CSR #2 tried to tell me that they always send phones in tact. So I asked her a very simple question, "Did you recondition this phone?". She answered in the negative. I tactlessly told her that she should never tell anyone what was done unless she had completed the task herself. She could in no way attest to the quality workmanship of this phone because she had not performed it, however, she felt the need to try to pacify me and I didn't appreciate it. I asked to speak with a manager in any department so she transferred me to a CSR that was a negotiator but not a supervisor.

CSR #3 told me what I already knew. I had the option of taking it to a service center to have someone look at it and if they corroborated my claim the new phone would be free. But here's the thing, at this point, I'm so angry and have been on the phone for so long that I've decided that to go out of my way to do anything with this phone is outside my realm of responsibility. I'm just not doing it. I ask CSR# 3 how many times I have to ask to speak with a supervisor before one actually picks up the phone. And so, I get her supervisor.

He's a nice guy and tells me simply that what I want - a free phone - is more than he can offer. He understood my frustration and says that this isn't the first time a customer has been mislead by the service provider. They don't always know the intricacies of the system. I have the option of taking it to a service center but if I choose not to he is bound by his ability to do one thing - take a claim. I appreciate his honestly. I am glad to finally have heard something that comes close to answering the question I'd asked at least a dozen times.

I was being held responsible for the damage to the phone because that's just the way they do business. The only time you won't pay for a replacement is if software damage occurs within 7 days. Seven. Days. Seven days isn't even enough time to take it on a test drive. You spend the first seven days reloading apps, reinstalling your contact lists, trying to sync all of your email accounts and letting the important people know that you're back in business. In seven days, you haven't made a tweet, a status update, or a simple phone call. It's like living in California and finding our your homeowner's doesn't cover earthquakes. It's a fucking rip-off.

I was honest with him when I told him that's not good enough. I explained that they would have to do better than that. Because after being lied to***, condescended to****, given much negative attitude, misdirected, and practically hung up on, I wasn't going to call this conversation over until a FREE replacement phone was on the way. That's how I ended up at the service provider's corporate office.

She was sweet and her voice dripped with Souther sugar. I knew that she could tell me to fuck off in a corner and I'd obey. CSR #5 was so nice that by the time I recounted my 35 minute ordeal I was close to tears. I knew that I tattling on everyone else and I didn't really want to bother her with my troubles. But you know wha she did? She took down my complaint and put in an order for my free phone. All I had to do was send the broken one back.

I should send her flowers.

* I never said that. What I actually said was, "I've had the same phone for 4 years! Why do I have to pay for insurance when Nat's the irresponsible one?"

** That phone was a soldier. In the end, it was totally being held together with hair ties and modeling clay.

*** EVERY CALL CENTER HAS A MANAGER!! Lying bitch.

**** When I asked for her name she said, "I'll spell it for you". I can hear and I can spell! What I won't do is let you talk to me any kind of way. Script or not.

Bigotry: A Phone Date or Why Black People Shouldn't Play In the Snow

I called him back a few minutes after 10p. This was before I knew he was crazy and bigoted so you can stop judging me.


The conversation started off simple enough. He talked like we were in high school. Like he really wanted to know me.


Rollback: "What's your favorite color?"
Me: "Teal."
Rollback: "What?"
Me: "Teal."
Rollback: "Huh?"
Me: "Blue."
Rollback: "Oh, OK."


See? He's well beneath me. And I know what you're thinking. "Gosh, she thinks highly of herself!" but he really isn't worth the pages in the history of my life that he is currently taking up. When he asked if I like amusement parks and I told him yes, he gave me the run down on why he doesn't like rides. No matter that I like rides because there's only one reason to go to Six Flags (God forbid he go to another amusement park) and that's funnel cake. I am a funnel cake purist. I like it with powdered sugar. He told me how he likes to pile his high with ice cream, strawberries and whipped cream. And then when we go to Six Flags that's how he's going to get my funnel cake so I can try it because once I try it I won't go back. I'm sure I told him twice that I won't eat it because it's too much. But he couldn't hear me over his constant exclamation of how that's "ALL I KNOW!".


Funny thought here. Can you learn something new if you won't shut your mouth long enough to hear it?
All that aside, he finally asked me a burning question. Do I date white guys? I told him I date all sorts of men. I really don't care how "he" comes along as long as he comes in a suit! I explained that my last real relationship was two years ago with an Australian (my gaaawwwddd did I love him. His eyes, his accent, his tongue, his hands, the magic he worked with the latter two. Yeah. You know what I'm saying *eyebrow waggle* Right? Right? Yeeeeeaaaaahhhh.)


Can I say that my response didn't go over well? You know what? I can't. Because that would be the greatest understatement in the history of the world! He LOVES his black people! How could I want to mix myself with men whose nature it is to dominate? How could I want to desecrate our heritage by blending with them? He would NEVER "play in the snow"! He loves his black people.


He hates white men because they view black women as exotic. "Animals are exotic!"


Did you know that my parents would never date outside their own race? Funny, because I didn't. My dad's new girlfriend is Italian. And my mom's husband is half Irish. When I told him that, his response was... wait for it... you're gonna love this... "I don't believe you. You're lying. My generation would never have that much disrespect for our people". (I know, right!)


Did you know that there was a black stock market but the white man burned it down? No, you didn't, liar! But now that I know the only question I ask is, "Why didn't they rebuild?". You can burn a building but not an idea.


Did you know that the most dangerous race are white people? (Lumped together, of course. Wouldn't want to allow a massive group of people to be defined by their ancestors individual countries of origin) Why? Well, I'm glad you asked. (Queue deep thinking voice of revelation) You see Nate (his one white friend), told him that blacks walk around with guns and knives to kill each other. But if a white man wanted to all he would have to do is create a biological weapon that would wipe out a whole country.


And you know what? That got him thinking about how dangerous white people are. You wanna know what else? It got me thinking about how ridiculously stupid he is. I asked him why a black man could invent the lottery, the stop light and open heart surgery but not biological weapons. Did he not see that he was pigeon holing his own people? My bad! I wasn't aware that black people don't have that much hatred in them. Except for that one time they sold each other to white men to be slaves, but other than that...


After being told that it was my duty, as someone who got out of the ghetto (let me interject here and say that I was never in the ghetto. I don't know what it's like. I lived in the same suburb as JC Chasez. But Rollback doesn't know that because he doesn't listen.) to come back to the hood and give a helping hand to those are still lost in the system. What The Fuck! Negro, please! I don't have it in me to give hand outs. But according to him that's just wrong. How can I not give a hand?


I was told that black people hold 5% of America's wealth and that if we would all just go back then we could rebuild this country and stop the corruption. I was adamant that I'm not going to Africa! There's nothing there for me. My inheritance is here, in America. I'm a fourth generation American. He's so concerned with "them" testing my DNA and classifying me as an African-American and I made it clear that I don't care what other people think of me or how they choose to classify me. The truth is that I'm part Dutch, part Native American and yes, part African American. But I choose to represent myself without the hyphen. The hyphen indicates that I hail from there and am able to possess dual citizenship. The hyphen would insinuate that America is not my chosen home. But it is. I am an American. He? Is not OK with that statement.


I asked him what his plans were for his life. How he presumed to take action since he knows exactly what needs to be done. He is going to record an album and bounce between New York and Los Angeles all next year. He's waiting on God to call him to preach and lead a congregation. He's going to expose Creflo Dollar and all other preachers who teach prosperity. What ever woman chooses to spend her life with him will have to be there through death because he knows that "they" are going to kill him when he begins to expose "them".


Finally, about an hour later when I was done listening to him go on incessantly with his nonsense. When I had had enough of being told what the truth is because he read it in a book so it's a fact. When I'd grown silent because I didn't desire to express my views knowing they would be discounted. After I told him that I respected his opinions and was interrupted and told again that they are facts and he has the books to prove it. As I reached the place where nothing he said actually sank in. When he was sure that he had managed to change my mind (and I told him that I was steadfast in my beliefs and our differing opinions would have to coexist [then I had to explain that the statement means we will just agree to disagree]).


That's when he asked me to marry him...

Thankful Thursday

I wasn't in the mood to be thankful last week. I'm not really in the mood to be thankful today either. Just know that I'm faking this harder than a GILF. Yeah, I went there... GILF. Think about it. They don't really wanna be there. They're all old and crunchy. Except for Betty White, of course. She's just a little dusty.*



But all-in-all, I'm making this list of things that I'm thankful for.



Wanna read it? Here't goes.

• time - I know this sounds silly but knowing that I can never get it back makes each moment so precious


• vacation time - I won't get to spend mine doing anything except sleeping, drooling, writhing in pain and riding in a car for 8 hours each way, but hey! I'm getting paid to do it. Right? Eh...


• pay checks - God knows I need mine and don't know what I would do without a regular one


• menstrual cycles - it's a little reminder from Jesus that I'm not pregnant


• Excedrin PMS - it keeps me from cuttin' a bitch.


• candles - *deep breaths*


• nosey neighbors - if I ever really am in trouble, I know that they'll be able to correctly identify the perpetrator.


• fuckin' Emo, long-hair-dyeing, fake-blood-making, skinny-jean-wearing, off-key-singing, no-talent-having, sommabitches that move back in with your downstairs neighbor - because you are an exercise in patience.

*If you had to click on the link to get the joke then the joke's on you because that is the best skit of this season! If, like me, you clicked on the link because you will use any excuse to relive that moment, well then... you're alright.

That One Time I Was A Cougar

I was coming home after a long business trip. In sales, you're always on the road. So much so, that hotels lose their thrill and you long for the comfort and familiarity of home. A colleague, Martin, and I were almost there when he asked me to stop the car and just drop him off where we were. I pull the car over to the berm and let him out right there on the highway. He crosses the median and walks up to this big, white building. I think to myself, "What the !?! You know what? Not my problem", step on the gas and keep moving.

When I get to the rental car place, Martin is already there and he's getting strapped into a floaty vest and onto a row boat. I race to the boat because it's the only way to get across the water. But still, it pulls off without me. Martin's dragged underneath when suddenly, he jumps up like a dolphin grinning and spitting water from his mouth!

Low tide comes in and I decide that I'd rather walk across the damp sand than wait for another boat. I get to the dock and walk through a functioning warehoue. Right on the other side is the house I live in. I don't own this house; I'm a boarder. You would think that living in someone's basement would suck but this one is mysteriuosly well-lit and infused with yellow. Yellow walls, yellow knick-knacks, even yellow daisies. It's oddly warm and inviting for such a small space. But all I can think is that being a boarder totally rocks. I can go away for days and not worry because my house is never really empty.

Exhausted, I shuffle to the fridge and open it to find only soy milk (yum!) and grape kool-aid (?). There's only one person that drinks these two in tandem. Taylor Lautner.

He stands there with his big, brown eyes and tells me that he missed me so much that he stayed in my place while I was gone. I lean up on my toes, wrap my arms around his neck and as he leans towards me with smiling lips and knowing eyes...

waking up is a bitch.

Can't You See I'm On My Knees for Mac 'n' Cheese?

I like to cook and that's a good thing because I just so happen to be damned good at it. Actually, I'm mediocre at best but quality cookware from The Pampered Chef and fancy pants ingredients like Gruyere make my food damned good.

My food is so good that at some point in your life, should you be blessed enough to partake, you will be acting all inappropriate at the dinner table what with the moaning and licking of your plate. Don't worry. It's cool. I'm so used to it by now that I just figure that I can live and let live. Besides, spontaneous orgasm has the be THE greatest compliment e.v.e.r.

Every so often, I become obsessed with certain food categories, like casseroles, stews, and currently, fritattas. When I was in my casserole phase, nothing was sacred. If I could put it in a dish with something else and wow you then that's exactly what I did. I took regular dishes and turned them into culinary masterpieces, complete with an inter mixture of flavors that danced in tandem along your pallet. You like that sentence? That's $30k worth of education right there.

One day, when it was really cold outside and hot chocolate just wasn't enough to make it better, Nat said, "Mac 'n' cheese would be so good right now". Obviously, it was a challenge. So, I break open Mom's cabinets to pull out the basics then rolled to the store to get the good stuff. You know the stuff: aged Parmesan, Gruyere, saffron; the foods of the gods. I blended these into a sauce worthy of unaccompanied ingestion. And then covered it with a buttery crouton topping and let it bake its way to happiness. It was ready to eat just in time to sit in front of the fire. Mmmmmm...

You see? It's good right? I told this story to Big Poppa and he said, "My mac 'n' cheese is better". I scoff at him because this fool must.not.know. How can his possibly be better when he only uses standard cheddar cheese? Of course, his defiance brings on an adjective war. I know I'm gonna win when I use "orgasmic". But alas, he claims his mac 'n' cheese is like hitting the "G-spot" and showed me exactly what he meant.

Imagine if you will, that you're sitting next to a close friend of over three years. And while he's talking to you, he takes his left hand, thrusts it into the air, extends his index and middle fingers together, bends them ever so slightly using their natural curvature and then commences to wiggle them. All to illustrate his point. Kinda like this:

I felt dirty. I felt mentally violated. I felt wet from having dribbled water down my front. It was hilariously menacing. And the best part was that he was in a G-spot trance. I was laughing too hard to get words out and finally had to force his hand back to his side.

Big Poppa,

Of all the things you and I have done together and of all the times we've shared, this will always be my favorite. Thanks for the memories.

P.S. ~ there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna let you live this shit down so don't even ask.