a midlife encounter...

That crazy chick Midlife showed up at my door in that ridiculous fur coat. I should have known something was up. Who in DAHELL wears a fur coat on an August night in Atlanta?!?!?!?!

Being the BGRITS (black girl raised in the south) that I am, full of southern hospitality, I graciously invited her in despite the late, late hour.

Her old rude ass immediately barged in asking me, "Where's the Hen-Dog?"

"Now, Middy, you know my ass don't drink. All I got in here is some water, Cokes, root beer and a bottle of wine some lame ass bought me for Valentines Day. Yes, lame because the fucker knows that I don't drink. How you gone bring a leftover bottle of no-name wineto a tee-totaler?"
Suddenly, I noticed that Middy has gotten awfully quiet.

I turned from the refrigerator and I was greeted with a sight that halted me midturn. The no-name bottle of wine slipped from my grasp breaking all over tile that is the color of faded mustard. The 16 ounce bottle of crystal geyser bounced and rolled under a chair.

This lunatic done pulled a gun out on me.

"Middy, sweetie, what's wrong? What did I do? What do you need? Here. Take everything I have. You can have my six dollar watch from Wal-mart, my life savings from my red plastic piggy bank and the flick collection that I keep under the secret compartment in my stereo rack. Take whatever you want. Just don't hurt me."

"Oh hell, girl. I didn't come for your shit. And I don't want to hurt you. I came for a new blog entry."

So, I'm sitting here wrapped in the infamous red blanket, cheap ass wine drying in the cracks of my kitchen tile, sleep crumbs still stuck in the corner of my eyes, contacts so dried out that I can't damn see straight with Middy's gun stuck in my side.

Fortunately, that damn fur coat has her ass so hot she is to the point of delirium and can't see straight to read what I'm typing.

So, I'm sending out a plea.

HELP ME!!!!!!
Somebody call 911!!!!!!!

love and unity

Love calls my name from every corner
Of your mind, speaking in hushed
Volumes and with whispered words of affection.

Each time I am away from you, I count the minutes
And the hours and leaf through our memories in my mind.

Never imagining an existence without you.

Delighting in the strength of this
Union and comforted by the security in your arms.

Needing nothing more than to have you in my life forever.

I am made new each time our eyes meet for our spirits touch.

Truth is…I carry you in my thoughts constantly and
You are never far from me.

as we lay...

last night...it stormed in atlanta...again...and at 843p...the power went out...again...

i had just stepped away from the stove and gotten down on the floor where he was watching love jones and lay my head on his chest...listening to the rumbles of his deep voice vibrating from deep within...his hands were touching my hair...and i was smiling into his tshirt...

the power blinked...and then went completely off...i immediately made a move to get up and get flashlights and matches to light candles...but he stopped me...and held me still...

"what are you doing?"

"i'm gonna get us some light...."

"what's wrong with this? are you scared?"

having no response, i said nothing...but ceased my movements and relaxed back into our position...

for long moments...there was no conversation...

then he said, "come here..."

so i moved closer to fit into that groove under his arm...placing my head on his shoulder...and he pulled me close...placing little kisses along my cheek...i inhaled...his scent was like a match igniting a slow fire in a warm place...and his touch was a soothing melody strumming gentle notes across my skin...

the silence in the room, our relaxed breathing ...and the fading sounds of thunder leisurely rolling across the night sky provided a soundtrack...

exactly how long we lay this way...i could not tell...i eventually got up to get a flashlight and matches so that i could return to the kitchen and finishing preparing the meal that we ate by candlelight...

as i sit here this afternoon...thinking back to last night...i remember the feeling i felt as we lay...it was as if time stood still and if only for that moment...heaven visited the only two people in my world...and i exhaled...

blank paper...blank screen...same thing...

so NOT the banger sisters...

for the majority of the summer...i have been a HUGE homebody...

lately...not the case...

friday night...i experienced some good, clean family fun...my dad, my mom and my sisters and i all went out to the NCO club on fort gillem...they all got drunk and i got sleepy...i drove us all home at 300a...

saturday midday...zee and i went to birmingham to the southern heritage festival...she has a friend that is the drummer for The O'Jays...we hung out at the hotel and had passes for backstage during the concerts...

the show started late and after we stayed for the next act...Frankie Beverly and Maze...it was damn near 300a again...so...we ended up going back to the hotel...getting a room...where i crashed immediately...

sunday morning, zee was talking about staying for that afternoon's concerts...she'd met someone with another band and wanted to go and hang out with him for a bit...

that was a big NO-GO for me...i'd had enough of groupie duty and being one of the girls with the band...

besides...i had my own someone that i wanted to see...and my someone was NOT in birmingham...

i think i got about 5 hours of real sleep all weekend...and today...i'm paying for it...i think it's a sign of getting older...i can no longer party for two days straight without my body shutting down on me for lack of sleep...

ragg'ly brows...

yes...i said ragg'ly...

which is slightly effed up when it comes to my brows...

because face it...your brows frame your face...and beautifully arched brows can be one of your best beauty accessories...(have you seen those pictures of ashanti before her brows were arched? she looked like a she-wolf...)

sad to say...my brows are all effed up...(hold on while i go to the bathroom and confirm just how effed up they are...brb...)

yep...all effed up...

now...i can pick up my covergirl espresso brown eye pencil (which doubles as my lipliner - i'm a minimalist when it comes to makeup and reminds me - why do so many people use BLACK EYELINER to fill in their brows? they look straight crazy - but alas...another vent for another day) and draw in a perfect pair...however...as soon as i wash my face...i am left with these two funny shaped patches of hair that resemble...um, let me see...nothing...

they have been overplucked, overshaped and overdone...and they look a hot mess...

so...i know that what i need to do is let them grow back in and take my ass to the brow shop in the mall west end and have them arched properly...

but i swear that it's harder than growing out a bad hair cut...

so...right now...i am trying to be as committed to letting my brows grow as i have been to this morning walk thing (which i HATE - i spend nearly the entire hour walk thinking - this is some BULLshit...)

wonder how long it'll take?

f*ck you...

Is it that I am non-confrontational?

Or perhaps I possess the manners that I was raised with?

Could it be that I am wuss?

Or maybe I really just don't care that much?

Whatever the case may be, today, someone really made me want to walk up to them and say, "F*CK YOU!!!" while giving them repeated middle finger an inch away from their nose.

As it stands, I am probably all of the above - an indifferent, mannerable, peace loving weakling. However, I really don't possess the energy or the motivation to determine which it actually is.

Instead, I emphatically thrust my middle finger in the air and with much enthusiasm, I issue a big fat cyber F*CK YOU!!!

Now - I feel better.

you'll NEVER guess where i am.....

blogging from Lee Tire Company...on GA HWY 85 in riverdale...

who'da thunk it?

sometimes...it's funny how things come full circle...sometimes...it's fucked up...

just yesterday morning...i was walking down ralph david abernathy...(and no, i was NOT on the ho stroll)...as i was crossing langhorn...i happened to look down at the road surface...what catches my attention, but nails...i mean LOTS of them...well...maybe six...strewn along the edge of the road...nearly at curbside...along with various other foreign objects debris (officially called FOD by the FAA) that look like it could do some major damage to people's shit...and i thought..."Damn...that's a lot of flat tires."...

now...i could have done the good samaritan type thing and picked the nails up...but i would have looked like a crack addict walking down the side of the street picking up all those damn nails at 730a on a sunday morning...somebody would have tried to collect on that $65 that grady gives for turning in crazy people...

now for the full circle of it...can somebody tell me why i found myself up under my effin truck properly positioning the jack because at some point yesterday afternoon (a mere 8 hours later), i picked up some FOD?

this was only my second time in life EVER changing a tire...the first being some months back when the DIVA's stang had two flat tires in my driveway...and my first time changing a tire on a truck...two tee-totally different experiences...

so...somehow...i end up on my two bellies on the pavement with the jack...all the while praying that i put the damn thing in the proper place so as to not really screw up something that would cost more money than i have to fix...if i had known how much work it was going to be...i would have called TP like he told me i should have done...but...since i'm a big old collard green and cornbread fed Kountry girl who is the calendar girl for miss effin independent (which is a whole nother post for a whole nother day)...i got out there and did it my damn self...

but enough about that...

left the office a bit early this afternoon...came around the corner to Lee's Tire Company and found nirvana for an internet junkie like me...free high speed internet while you wait...HOT DAMN!!!!!!!!

i could hardly contain my excitement...

my fingers are flying across the keyboard...trying to get all of this down...all the while...i'm shooting daggers at this redneck looking guy in the waiting area...cause he'd better not even THINK about needing to check his email...look up nascar standing or pull up any page that contains the phrase "GIT 'ER DONE"...

cause.i.ain't.givin'.up.the.'net...'

unless they gone call the police...

Terminated During Probationary Period

Official Notice

July 18, 2005

JLT
Atlanta, Georgia

Dear JLT:

This is to notify you that you are hereby being terminated for providing false information during the recruiting process. You were not truthful about your qualifications and misleading regarding your experience. Combined with your mistrust of your employer, excessive use of alcohol on the job and pyschotic tendencies, it is not with regret that we inform you that your services are no longer needed.

And that is the end of that... sJea no longer has a man...

It's like Tazzee says - A relationship ain't a relationship until you get past the 90 day probationary period. And like Chris Rock says - The relationship representative will show up at first.

And that's exactly what happened to me. I was hoodwinked, bamboozled, led astray. I'm actually kind of pissed at myself. I'm old enough to know better.

He said he was a minister. Um, yeah...interesting that he quoted the most scripture when he was two sheets to the wind.

He said that he was trusting. Funny how our every phone conversation started with the Big 3 questions - Where are you? What are you doing? Who's with you?

He said that he admired a confident woman with her own opinions, own interests and a life outside of the relationship. Amazing how he constantly attempted to control how I responded to him by accusing me of constantly getting smart with him and using a flippant tone. So much so, that for about 2 seconds I was hesitating before I responded to him because I was considering how to say what I was going to say without pissing him off. And when I would give him an opinion that did not line up with his unfortunately narrowminded ideas, he would quickly cut me off in mid-sentence and dismiss what I'd said with no thought for my feelings. Sadly, he never wanted to hear about anything that was going on in my life because he was so busy telling me what was going on in his. (I mean, I know I'm a good listener, but day-um!) And anytime I left the house to live my life (any purpose not work related), he called and texted me consistently. (During one of my softball games, he sent me 24 texts within an hour.)

And I could go on...but just thinking about all that this relationship was supposed to be, but wasn't makes me tired. I was quite optimistic on the outset (hell, I'm the original eternal optimist). I wanted to fall in love with this man and have him be the last man I ever loved on this earth. However, even in my eternal optimism dwells realism and the real of it, life is too short to subject yourself to assholes.

So, what did I end up with?

Another notch on a belt that really has no room for any more notches.

Flat Abs...PHAT @$$...Flat Abs....PHAT @$$...

That's my chant for when i'm working out, during my morning walk, while taking my step classes and when I'm doing crunches.

It helps me keep a mental picture of what I am working to achieve.

Flat abs...PHAT @$$!!!

(And of course I mean Pretty, Hot And Tempting!)

Drums, please...(Okay, that SO does not fit here and is actually kind of whack and when I typed it, I could immediately hear Will Smith at the start of Summertime, but I was feeling it, so...)

However, I digress.

My alarm is set for 615am. Most mornings, I fervently wish for a nice little .38 caliber pistol to exact quick punishment on the little black bose stereo at the side of my bed that dares to disturb my peaceful, wonderful beauty rest. As the fog of sleep clears from my mind and I become cognizant of the fact that I'm supposed to be hopping out of the bed eager to get out in the sticky, humid heat of the morning to trek two and a half miles in the attempt to 'get fineR', I sigh deeply, yawn once, stretch slowly and roll back over.

Well, yesterday, a question ran across my mind that once I considered the answer, it pushed me out of bed into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. The answer forced me into my sports bra, loose fitting white tee (ain't nothing you can't do in a white tee), spandex shorts, pompom socks and nike tennis shoes. It sent me into the kitchen for that first morning glass of water. It caused me to pick up my headset, clip on my cell phone and pick up my protector (which on the outside looks like a simple 3' walking stick stick but actually the handle pulls out to reveal a 12" shank that I not only know how to use, but will not hesitate to do so should someone intend to do me harm - what can I say? I don't like violence, but I AM walking around in the West End of Atlanta at 630am) . It propels me out the door, down the stairs, past that loud @$$ Sheba (Mr. Lomax's German Shepard who HATES me) and down the sidewalk where supposedly, I am delighted to be breathing in the half wet, hot, heavy morning air.

And what is the twenty pound question?

Well, I say to myself, "Self, what's more important to you? Another 60 minutes of sleep which will allow you to remain a fat ass with two tummies that crease when you sit down? or Getting your rear in gear and sticking with the 'get fineR' program that will get you to the flat abs and phat @$$ that you dream about?"

And of course the answer -

Flat abs...PHAT @$$! ! !