Day 82: Match.com and My Pot Belly Discussion...

So I had my first Match.com date the other day.  It was like a spur of the moment thing; he sent me an email and asked if I wanted some drinks.  Of course I do!

But ok why didn't I even know his name?  I had to run home to check my computer to get it again.  I know, that's trife right?   We met at a bar.  The convo was cool; he kinda had signs of being a know-it-all though.  We laughed and talked about a lot of things.  It wasn't a bad evening at all to be honest.  But on a kickin' it level, it doesn't look promising. 

"Your silky words are sweet,
But your pockets sho' look empty."

I think I am gonna start giving these guys names like Flav did on Flava of Love.  We will call this one Shorty-Mac because he was about 5' 6" tall (or less) I think.  I noticed something in common with these shorty men who try to push up though - bellies.  I don't know, maybe I am hard on these fellas with bellies.  What I am supposed to do with that in the bedroom, rub on it like I do my cat's belly?  Beat it like a drum?  Nuh uh.  Now is that shallow?  Is it superficial?  I mean do we females get a pass for having a big ol' beach ball in front of us unless we are pregnant?  I think not.  It's all about what our preferences are at the end of the day and I don't think I can get it in with all that misplaced body meat.  I could get nasty with what I'm thinking but I'm not.  All I'm gonna say is I think it would be in the way.  Of course the ones with the pot bellies will say otherwise, but I ain't even trying to find out what they do on the real.  I saw pictures in a book at a sex toy party of how men with bellies get it in, and the options for different positions look limited. 

"The drooping potbelly "buries" the male organ inside the folds of fat and makes it look smaller."

A old 'friend' sent me a text of his 'thang' about a month back.  It was just beautiful and it looked quite delicious.  It made me wanna just get...(fanning my face).  Time out.  LOL. Stop that girl.  So if a pot belly man sent me a text of his 'thang' would I say the same?

Let me stop because this post is getting dirtier the more and more I type...


Last night I did something I haven't done in years.  I went to a club/party by myself.  It was an old school dance party in NYC sponsored by the radio station.  It was a friggin blizzard but I put some pants on under my dress and put my shoes in my bag and hopped on the bus to the city.  And I'm not gonna lie, the brothers had me feeling kinda good about myself.  I was gassed up.  One man gave me his number and said that if I called him he would probably piss on himself?  It may not have been the smoothest line but it was funny as hell when he said it. 

So if I go to this party again, I think I will do the solo thing.  It was a lot more fun I'm telling you!  I had a nice time and was able to shake off a little rust off this body before the year ends.  In fact everyone there was probably doing the same as this party was definitely for a 'mature' crowd - mostly 40s and up I think.  I loved seeing the older people dance into the wee hours of the morning!  It was very cool to see.  And man you could tell those who were party people in their hey day.  I guess I was so amazed because I hardly ever saw the older folks in my family dance.  While I watched the dancers I said to myself that I hope that will be me one day; dancing at 50 plus and not caring how late it is or who is looking at me. 

So after I left I'm walking to the subway at like 4:15am and it was like 10 inches of snow on the ground and still coming down fast.  Then the next thing you know this skinny white guy passes me on Broadway near Times Square with just boxers, a Santa Claus hat, and dress shoes on?  For real!  No lie!  He was just running in all that snow and slush like it was no problem.  I told my friend about it and he said he probably was on meth or something.  I don't know what it was, but only in NYC would you see that shyt in a blizzard on a Saturday night.

Only two weeks left in the year.  Am I hanging out on New Year's Eve or what?

I'm getting a lot of winks and messages from the Caucasian men on Match.com . Hmmm....

A friend is trying to get close to me (but his belly is in the way)...hmmmm.

"Your silky words are sweet,

But your pockets sho' look empty."

Day 21: The "B" Word Is Looking Better Everyday

Ok since August I have been looking for something part time.  I had an interview last week at Victoria's Secret and I went to a cattle call at a bar in Newark.   I thought the Newark thing went okay, but the guy said that they would call me Monday and today is Wednesday.  So I will still keep my fingers crossed anyway.   I'll keep applying to stuff.  In the next week I will hit TGIF and Daffy's and Arden B.   I applied to The Container Store but that was about it.  Not good at all.  I mean I get here at night and say I'm gonna work on the resume and apply to jobs and I just sit here in a daze.  TV off.  No sound.  Just sitting here in a daze looking at the computer screen.  Mind all over the place.  I did that for two days straight.

So AGAIN tonight I was supposed to be updating my resume.  But I turned on the TV and I am sitting watching "I Love Lucy" and typing on this blog.  What is wrong with me?  I guess what it is is that I am tired of updating that friggin' resume.  I have been messing with it since Labor Day and working on it is an energy zapper.  But I'm gonna do it.  Tonight.  In 30 minutes. (UPDATE:  I took my procrastinating ass to bed and didn't even work on it of course.  Sat here and dozed off after eating all that junk tonight.  See next paragraph.)

Before I continue, I must say that I ate too much tonight.  I had tortilla chips and salsa, then two big crab cakes and rice, then two blueberry muffins with butter on them.  That makes no sense at all and I am pissed at myself.  And I have the nerve to wonder why people keep asking me am I pregnant? 

Did I just see a baby Milk Dud walking on my desk just now?  Please God no.  I don't need that right now.  I don't see it so I'm hoping that my eyes were just buggin.  A Milk Dud has appeared here or there over the years unfortunately so it is quite possible.

I'll make it quick about the "B" word in the blog title.  BANKRUPTCY.  I guess bankruptcy is looking better and better as each day passes.  I can't stand this as a course of action but man!  I recalculated my debt and instead of $78K it is closer to $90K.  How long would it take me to pay all that back with interest with the money that I make?  For the past 18 years I have tried and tried to keep my credit in a good place, as that is how I was able to open the business and get the credit for things that I needed.  Now I won't be able to get anything for a long time.  Even some jobs won't take me over that.  It's gonna be real f'd up to be in that spot at this point in my life.  I have seen two attorneys already and they both are saying different shyt which makes it worse and makes me more confused.

The lottery is 200M.  Ain't that crazy?  And one person won it last night.  Sometimes I walk down the street and spazz out and think about what I would do when (notice I say when) I win the big lottery.  I think about where I would live and the people who I would help.  I know people probably walk by and are like, "WTF is she smiling about?"  I took an article of a lottery winner and took a cut out of my face and pasted it on his body.  Why a man?  I couldn't find a Black woman's photo who had won the lotterry but there was this pic of a Black man.  So I couldn't have a Black head and white arms now could I?  But the guy had on a nice shirt so at least I'm looking stylish holding that big, fat lottery check!  I pasted it on my wall for inspiration.  Maybe I'll be the Black woman lottery winner who takes a picture that other brown girls can paste their faces on? 

I was having a convo with my half cleaning up ass roommate (that story in another post, and I have photo evidence this time okay!), and he was saying he would be bored if he didn't have a job to go to.  I had already noticed that he ALWAYS talks about work and how many hours he is working and how important he is.  I bet he does that shyt on dates too.  Yawn.  Along with, "I've been to Spain, and Italy, and the moon and yadda yadda."  Look I lived in Salt Lake City okay.  And I was Black (well I still am - hee hee).  That's some major shyt in my book.  The state is less the one percent Black and it was very overwhelming being a girl from a all Black community.  You think you know but you have no idea how bad I went through it out there.  Sometimes I used to say that I wanted to die because I was so sad.  But I came to appreciate Salt Lake City and played with the cards I was dealt at the time.

Back to the convo with the roomie.  He said that he retired twice and went back to work each time.  He said he was bored?  I was like puhleeze.  I could name five things I could do besides work for someone else.  Then he tried to bring up a friend of his who did the same thing as he did as if to say that that was a pretty common thing or something.  Again, puhleeze. You weren't bored.  You are just a bore.  At least that's what I surmised from his admission.   If you have never done much outside of work in your life, then that's what you will probably die doing.  That's what I told him and he was quiet.  He probably never did much and the traveling he did was always associated with working anyways.  Work until you are so old or so sick that you have nothing left because you gave it all to some job.   Hell I told him he could have taught at a college, or volunteered for Habitat for Humanity or Americorps.  Man, don't ever get around me and talk about that working for someone else is all there is.  I will start preaching and probably won't shut up for a minute.  Getting on slave ships everyday going to the city; getting in you car and getting on the road with the other robots running to their jobs every morning.  I've always hated that morning and evening scene - and yet I'm still doing it.

Call me crazy, but if I had the choice I would walk right up to my mother and say, "What were you thinking woman?  Send me back.  This life shyt is for f'n the birds."

Day 4, Part II: Changed the name of the blog

It is now the Diary of a Broke Ass Woman - at least until I find something better.  Not as interesting as Diary of a Broke Bitch, but that bitch thing was too much to describe a classy lady like myself.  To be broke AND a bitch was too much of a kick in the head. 

Well so much for keeping it gangsta like I said on Day One. 

Why did I dream last night that I broke into this girl's house who I sued in court and lost to a couple of years ago?  And guess what I stole...nothing!!  I think I was watching TV in the dream or something like that.  Very weird.  I can't even keep it gangsta in a dream.  I guess it just ain't in me.

Broke Antidote #2: Get Paid to Clean Up After My Roommate & Acting Like Sybil/

Kim asked me what I was doing for my 40th birthday. I told her that I have nothing to celebrate. Then she said, "You're alive! You're breathing! You should be thankful for that." I then said I should be having a party everyday because I breathe everyday. I told the therapist that and she laughed.

Got a collection notice for the damn internet service. I don't know why every year 1&1 internet has the problem with me. Idiots. The bill is like $20 but they always send it to collections.

The mornings are getting worse for me. I can't get out of the bed. Then when I do get out of the bed and go into the bathroom, I am greeted by the hairs from my roommate's head in the tub, on the floor, and toilet. Since I need extra cash, I'm gonna make a proposition to the roommate. I am gonna offer to clean up his hair for $50 a month since he can't seem to do a thorough job himself.

In reality I don't wanna do this, but maybe if I say this then he will get it together? Or maybe I will collect the hairs and put them on a voodoo doll so that I can stick pins in it when I hear his loud ass snoring at night. He goes to bed at like 7:30pm so that shyt starts WAY EARLY and startles the cat and everything.  Or better yet, maybe I will collect the hairs and make a toupee so he can put them back on his damn head.
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What does this has to do with brokeness? It's the Sybil Hour right now I guess. My head is all over the place and so is my personality. I am having confidence attacks and I'm all hyper sensitive about my race and my looks. I'm so conscious about people talking to down to me because they see my color first and hear me second. On the phone they hear my Black accent first and the words second. I'm flipping all around with my thoughts and I'm calling it my Sybil thing. (Sybil was a woman with multiple personalities, but I don't think I am anywhere near that girl.)

My therapist asked why did I use the word 'bitch' to name my post. I don't like being called a bitch but sometimes I do call myself that - but more in an Omarosa/Paris Hilton kind of way. Like I'm a bad ass. But this time the word bitch doesn't mean that when it comes to this blog. But on the walk back from the session I kept thinking that I should change it. It bothers me. Maybe that's a good thing though. If I don't wanna be a broke bitch then I have to fix it then. I am thinking of a new name, but I'll keep it like that because I think it gives my blog some charisma.

But look at this clip and you see how she flips when being called a bitch:

http://www.bvnewswire.com/2009/09/18/nene-leakes-who-you-calling-a-b/

Broke Antidote #1: Went to Bartending School

So back in August I went to bartending school for three weekends. Made my 12 drinks in seven minutes. Then I went and made little contact cards and spent like two days making resumes for the job. But I never realized how superficial the industry is! All the ads want a pic. I'm not ugly or anything but I certainly am not a model either. I do okay. But you know I don't think it is totally about that either - the looks thing. Minority females bartending in Manhattan is practically non-existent. I didn't realize it until I started looking. So I guess the best way for me to get a shot is to try a bar with folks who look like me I guess. So not only do I have the lack of experience working against me, it seems to be a little something else going on too. But I'll keep looking. I paid $500 to take the class (the last bit of my savings that I had a few months ago) to take this class in the hopes that I would find a gig and make the money back. So far I've been getting a lot of shade. I might do a lil experiment and find me a pic of cutie white girl and post it on my resume then send it to the same job that I apply to with my same qualifications! See this blogging makes me think! I just came up with that.

But I have been applying to anything and everything that I can do after work and on weekends since the bartending is moving too slowly. But for real, I think I'm gonna do that little experiment. If I have time....but I already know the answer so why bother.

Day 1: I Never Thought That I Could Really Admit My Brokeness

My name is....and I'm an alcholic...Oops! Wrong statement.

My name is..and I'm a Broke Bitch.

So this blog makes it official. I'm officially a BROKE BITCH. Well let's say 'ish' instead of bitch for my first post. I know these days the young girls use it all freely and what not but I'm old school and I gotta take baby steps on using word 'bitch' and 'broke' to characterize myself. Wow. Let me say that again. Broke and a Bitch too? The world MUST be coming to an end. So if that's the case I might as well keep it gangsta!

So what happened to a girl who at a time would get four and five job offers, worked for major companies, lived all over the country, had savings, stocks, clothes, cars? I opened my own business that's what. Used everything I had to support a dream. That's a long story and that mess is chronicled on another blog that I leave that open for people who know me to see. Not gonna tell them I'm broke though and I won't tell them about this blog. I can't imagine all the critcism that would unleash once they hear that Miss Got It All Together don't have nothing together right now. I even went to the coin machine and cashed out all my loose change that I've carried for years now. It was only $58 but I can at least wash my clothes, buy some gas, and buy my sick cat his special food. It's a little embarassing, but I'm too gangsta to let it show. (I always wanted to say I'm too gangsta about something so there ya go! Dream fulfilled! Hee hee.)

I'll keep this blog to chronicle my money troubles because I gotta let it out! With the businness being closed I have to still pay those bills plus my own. I have this little job in NYC that pays decent, but I took that over a gig that paid $20K more so that I could work on my business too. And you know I'm regretting that shyt right now because the business is closed. Then I got robbed and I had to borrow $52K to replace that money, so my debt is about $78K.

This blog may be a strategy for me to make light of the damn situation before I end up homeless (which honestly doesn't sound that bad right now cause I could use the rent money to pay other things). I have thought it about it many times. Is it possible to be funny about being a Broke Bitch (BB)? I doubt it but if I ever lose it then people can come to this blog and see how I have been feeling.

So here we go...the Diary of a Broke Bitch is officially published. I know a LOT of people are going through it too if not worse, but you know, this is my party and I'll cry if I want to dammit. So everyone is handling there stuff the best way they can, and I guess I'll have to do the same.

To blog is to ease my despair...