"I Don't Want A Black Chick"

I don't know why, but I feel as if I were punched in the stomach for some reason.

I was exchanging text messages with someone that I was diggin' a lil' bit, and he says,

"...my mind is made up about it...don't get me wrong...I love my Black sistas, but I don't see myself long with one because I've been with Black ladies and it didn't last."

But hey, I likey him!  LOL

I guess it is not like I haven't heard this before in a general sense, but for someone who I am diggin' to tell me that directly was a real punch to my gut.

So I take this to mean that because I am Black I ain't gotta chance with dude.  Forget who I am as an individual huh?  Wow.

Dude says he likes Asian chicks.  A White guy in my office says he can't close a deal with a White girl so he too wants an Asian chick.  Ok can someone explain this shyt to me?  Whassup with these damn Asian chicks anyways?  Is the coochie betta?  Do they just run behind men and speak only when spoken to?  Are they smarter or dumber?  WHAT?

*scratching my head*

I don't know but it makes me wonder.  I mean I can move on from this dude, but from that comment?  It may take a couple of minutes.  Mind tripping to experience someone writing you off because of your race, and it is even more mind tripping when that person is the same as me.  I mean date whoever you want, but dayum.  This sista already has it hard enough and I really didn't need to hear that right now.  Sigh.

Ok, so he wasn't THAT into me, and maybe he was making excuses, but nevertheless the statement threw me back a little bit.

Anyway...I'm gonna have me a Bloody Mary tonight and start packing my crap.  I'm moving on Valentine's Day.  It should take my mind off the holiday so not a bad plan.

Day 114: Match.com and Being a Cougar

I must confess.  I think I like younger guys a lil too much.  And I don't know if that's good for my plan to "Meet A Man With Money in His Hand". 

I was at the gym about a month ago and this personal trainer comes up to me and starts chatting.  He actually didn't say much and was about to walk away, but I kept him talking to me by asking questions about the machines.  Of course I knew that his goal was to try to get me to sign up for training sessions, but I went ahead and talked to him about my workouts anyway.  I knew damn well that I didn't want to sign up for any training sessions, because long ago I had resolved not to pay for a trainer until I got over my addiction to nachos and salsa (and that ain't happening anytime soon).  So I was already poised to say no to training with him.

But then...

I detected a little Carribean accent.  "Bahamas." He tells me.

Then I saw the outline of his chiseled chest and shoulders from underneath his black personal trainer T-shirt.  Sexy. Sexy. Sexy.  We kept talking and yeah, things were starting to get real interesting to me.  The cougar was now out of her cage and she was HUNGRY.

He says to me, "Come here, let me show you something." 

I wanted to scream, "Ooh, what baby?  What you wanna show me?  WHAT!!!?" 

He took me to the treadmill.  Boo.  Oh well.  LOL.

He had me do a little run/sprint thing for a few minutes.  He was saying things like, "Good.  That's what I'm talking about."  "Looking good.  Looking good."  Each time he spoke my mind was turning to mush.  By the end of it, I was panting and trying not to look at him because I swear he was looking more and more tasty with every breath I took.  But I gave in.  I was like, "Yum!  Sign me up."  And I did!!! OMG.  I'm broke as hell but signed up for these training sessions with this man.  I was truly buggin, but I figured what the hell.  I wasn't paying my rent this month anyway and I got some extra cash so why not???!!!  Hee hee.  Let my dumb ass landlord finance my cougarisms this month.  Mothafucca. :-)

But this money was of course an investment, because I was on a mission.  In four training sessions or less I needed get this brutha.  With a little lip gloss and a few snug tank tops I got him in two sessions.  Twenty-eight years old and choco Caribbean fine and all over me!  Ooh I'm getting worked up just typing about it! Whew (throwing my head back)!  Can't get much betta than that right?  He is kinda reserved so I had to work at it, but I like 'em when they are a little shy/nerdy.   That's fire!!

So mission accomplished.  The other two were bonus sessions as far as I was concerned.  In fact I saw him today when I went to the gym at lunch time.  Man, I wish we could have gone in the Massage Room there for some afternoon delight but oh well.  We have kicked it a few times and I'm sure we will kick it again.  This is my fourth or fifth young buck.  I think I'm gonna call this one 'Hot Chocolate" though.  I hope to be getting more 'cups' in the near future. 

Day 107: Being a Beotch

Wow.  I haven't been on here in a month and so much has been happening.  It's been kinda hard to focus because I have been getting hit with something all the time.  But I'm here today.  Day 107.

But before I talk about my 'stuff', first let me talk about the tragedy in Haiti.  I sit here nightly and watch the news reports and my heart hurts!  Last night I saw a news report where a young boy was hit in the head with a rock and his face was covered in blood.  On a good note though I also watched an amazing telethon on Larry King Live where people like Diddy, J Lo, Paula Abdul, Russell Simmons, Snoop, Danny Glover, Will I Am, and other celeb white people that I didn't know (LOL) manned the phones and took people's donations.  They raised 5 million dollars for Haiti in two hours!  AMAZING!

After seeing all that happened there, I was reminded of how I used to always volunteer and help others.   In the past I worked in a soup kitchen, tutored kids and adults, sorted clothes for the needy, worked with at-risk youth, etc.  From like 22 years old, I was volunteering for things that I would see listed in the newspaper (this was before the internet came along) and just show up.  My first real volunteer experience was tutoring a guy that was the same age as me, 22 years old, but he could only read at a first grade level..  He had a high school diploma and everything and he didn't know the sounds of letters.  I worked with him for about a year or so.   It was definitely an eye opener about the school system for me.  He told me how he got around driving without reading, how he ordered food and pretended to read menus, how he filled out job applications.  It was really something to hear how he got around in his life.

I used to just do these things because I liked to, and then it happened - MY BUSINESS.  But even with having the business I still managed to do a little something for others.  I started 'free Saturdays' where the disadvantaged kids could come in an use the computers and play games that we would normally would charge them for.  Even though those kids were pains in my ass many times, they were happy to be there, and it was cool to see them doing something other than hanging in the street.  My customers also loved to see that I was doing that too.  It was cool.

So since the disaster in Haiti I had ask myself, "What happened chick?  Where did your heart go?" I have to be honest and say that I had no idea how things really were in Haiti.  None.  One of my ex-boyfriends is Haitian-American but he never really talked about the country.  But I also noticed something other than the destruction as I watched the news reports - there were lots of people there already in Haiti on humanitarian efforts, but few of them seemed to be Black.  I wonder did anyone else notice that?  Hmmmm. 

White people were in Haiti from all over, churches and colleges and such, but where were we?  It made me think about how we really don't look out for each other as a people.  For real.  The Haitian orphans that are being adopted arrived at the airports and guess who were greeting them -- white people.  It was kinda mind tripping.  Years ago I had considered going into the Peace Corps but I chose to do Americorps and stay local.  I have thought about it again recently though.  I'm telling you, if I don't get my old business open or my new business off the ground in the next couple of years...I'm just might get rid of everything and do some type of humanitarian work full time.  I go to work everyday, and when I ride on that slave ship I feel that a part of my mind whittles away.  A voluntary slave - a slave to bills, rent, car note, credit cards.  I sit on the bus and try hard to read to stimulate my mind and I can't.  I try to plan my day and I can't even focus for five minutes.  So if I ever do the humanitarian I will really be a broke ass woman for real (LOL), but my legacy CANNOT be just working for someone else all my life.  Even if I just do foster care it'll be something.  I know it may sound sappy and looney but on Day 107, this is how I'm feeling.

Moving on...

So my bankruptcy case is filed, and I have to go to court next week to meet the attorney for the 'other side.'  This attorney represents the creditors, and I got a letter from them today and I had to take deep breaths before I could even open it!  My hands were trembling.  When I go to court, I know my heart is gonna be pounding so hard that I won't be able to speak.  If I say the wrong thing or talk too much the attorney said that I could screw myself.  This whole thing is so nerve wrecking! Ugh!  I slipped up and showed a co-worker something and it mentioned that I had filed bankruptcy.  Shyt!  Dumb ass me.  So now he knows, and he says he won't say anything but I don't know if that's true.  If he does, he does.  It's my own stupid fault though so there's nothing to say on that.

Day 82: Continued

Why is my mother's newest thing is telling me that I'm bipolar?


*rolls eyes*

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 72: I'd Like To Fly Far Away....

That's a line from the Commodores classic "Zoom".  I am feeling overwhelmed today.

My pre-trial hearing got postponed because THE OTHER side claims the were going to be tied up.  So now I have to wait for another date.  Hopefully justice will come in 2010 about these people taking my rent money on the new space I had picked to move my business.  It was a big mess and my business closed because of the whole damn thing. 

Ok I posted that my landlord said he wanted to talk to me right before Thanksgiving.   Didn't hear from him.  A week later he finally calls me and tells me that he is selling the house.  But guess who he is selling it to?  The beotch relative that lives downstairs!  Yeah the one who told the landlord I was using the free washing machine too much ( damn lie).  So instead of asking me about it, don't you know that this dumb ass landlord believed her and told her that he was putting coin machines in.  So the heifer got happy and then proceeded to take my wet clothes out of the machine, put the washer in her apartment, and unhooked the dryer and left my stuff in a wet pile on a table!  My mouth dropped when I came home from work that day and found them like that.  Then when I asked him about it he says, "Oh we were planning to change out the machines but we didn't know it would happen that fast."  Ok if you were planning on doing this then why didn't you say something to me so that I wouldn't wash anymore?  He had nothing to say to that and didn't even apologize either.  They were just trying to be slick that's all.  Needless to say I refused to give them another dime for their machines, and I started taking my stuff to the Latino laundromat.  Hell I'll just wash with Juan and Maria and them and fold my clothes in peace.

Now here we go again with this woman affecting my living situation.  He tells me that the house is too much for him to take care of, and that she is gonna buy it from him and wants my apartment because her son might want to move there.  (Quite convenient sale isn't?  Don't believe it)  I mean she wants to be the queen of this broke ass house sooo bad.  For six years I have paid rent on in this place.  She has only lived there for three.  But ever since she moved in she has been a damn tattletale ever since.  I am barely there and probably make minimal noise anyway.  In fact, SHE is the one making the noise with this squawking, loud ass bird she got this past summer.  It is unbelievably annoying.  I guess she is missing Costa Rica or Colombia or wherever that heifer is from.  She lives with her little man friend, and neither one of their Lucy and Ricky Ricardo asses even speak English.  Neva saw two more country ass Latinos in all my life.


So he is giving me until the end of February to move.  So guess what?

I put a stop payment on my rent check. 

You ain't giving me nothing, and I ain't giving you the rent.  Hell I need that money to move so use the security deposit.  It is winter and in February it will still be winter so moving will still be a bitch  too.  Then it's the holiday and I have to stress over gathering up security deposit funds, worrying about my credit checking out (it is in the tank OMG), moving costs, packing, utility hook ups, etc.  I mean I battled it in my mind about doing the stop payment on my rent check, but I gotta handle my business.  I mean I could sit there and not pay any rent for months and they will just have to kick me out? I thought about doing that too, but the situation might be too stressing for me because I worry too much as it is.

So I told the therapist about it the other day and she asked me how I felt.  I struggled to find the words at first.  Speechless.  I told her that I feel like I'm being thrown away like garbage.  "We don't want you here."  "My aunt doesn't want you here."  I always paid my rent.  I lived with strangers, both men and women, to try to cover that rent because I knew that I didn't have the funds to pick up and move.  Then to ask me to go in winter is f'd up.  My therapist said that when you live in private houses the mentality of owners and especially relatives that live in the house is that they are higher than you.  There is some truth to that, but the tenant is not regarded fairly or treated fairly.  There are rules like the tenant can't go in the basement; the tenant can't go in the backyard; all you hear is about what you can't do and what they won't do.  I mean the wet clothes thing was just one of a few incidents that occurred in the house anyway.  I have wanted to leave for a long time, but on my terms you know?

So like MJ sings, "This is it."

They had a tenant who paid the rent for years, but I'll give them a lil' taste of what's its like when  a tenant doesn't pay.  If it wasn't for the bankruptcy thing I wouldn't have done this though.  But since I am filing, so what?  And although I'm looking and may sign a lease on a place soon, I'm gonna take my molasses ass time moving out.  Yep.  But you know what is a trip?  The dumb landlord doesn't even have a copy of the keys!!!!  Why?  Because when someone picked the lock and tried to break into my apartment in 2008 he wouldn't come to change the lock.  I begged and begged but he wouldn't do it.  So I had to get a friend to do it like a week later.  See what I mean?  They treated me like a dog.

So I'm like this, take ya ass to the eviction court and get the state to kick me out, and the heifer's son can just sit and wait on me dammit.  Hell by the time that process will  be done it will be spring anyway and I will be long gone with all my rent in my pockets.  I'm sounding bitter as hell, but that's just how I feel right now.

But I'll be cool.  It was time to go.  Can't wait until I find my new spot.  I'm working on it - hard.

Broke Antidote #4: Meet Me a Man With Money in His Hand REVISITED

NEWSFLASH!  NEWSFLASH!

Got my first call from Match.com tonight!  Oooh weeee!

He sounded aiight.  Maybe I'll let him buy me a dinner.  I like free dinners/drinks/movies and things like that.

All I know is that if we do kick it he betta not act up, or I WILL be talking about his azz on this blog. 

Stay tuned.

Although this has nothing to do with finances I just gotta get this off my chest.  Shhh...I'm secretly bugging about an old boyfriend since he told me he had his first child - well more like chilluns because he had twins.  He's married, but I kinda wish...you know that...it were...different.  That's all I'm gonna say on that subject for today.  I typed this small so maybe no one will squint down and read it and start preaching to me about him being married and all.