I'm Not Dead

Or lost in College Park
...but I am having internet connectivity issues.

Not to worry, I've still been up to the same old hijinks:
Dancing on tables
Salsa-ing with anyone worthy
Eating Salmon (though slightly less...)

I miss you guys. If I have to sit in Starbucks (again) I will.

More later.


Back to School

What's the weirdest part of picking your car up in College Park?
(Multiple Choice)

a- Being attracted to the Shuttle driver but realizing he's a Sophmore.

b- Almost not being able to finish your grilled portobello mushroom on 7 grain with lettuce, tomato and feta when you realize that the woman who made it is the same one that's been there since Freshman Orientation.

c- Really really really being excited to go back because it means you get to pick up a fozen hot chocolate with soy milk. (Fuck the walk of shame! This was where the Greeks paraded their previous night's hookups. It was Soffe shorts and flip flops EVERYWHERE).

d- Thinking that you recognize someone but realizing that that all the ZBT's STILL look exactly the same.

e- All of the above.



I know I was supposed to devote the past week to answering my burning and unanswered questions. But I got sidetracked. By a shitty work week. And dieting like a fiend for my birthday party. I could just see it: me inviting all my nearest and dearest out to celebrate me and then looking like a slob. So 4 nights last week I ate salmon for dinner.

But there are side effects to salmon. I've always heard it's great for you. According to DistrictSiren, it's not one of the 3 fish you can't eat more than once/week, and my skin looked especially hydrated when I ate it for dinner two weeks ago... But yeah. Side effects. Omega 3's don't just hydrate: they help you orgasm according to another friend, Ashley, who eats it for that express purpose. STAY AWAY FROM SALMON IF YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY.

The week wore on, and as anticipation for my big bash climbed, so did my libido. Which is why when my work friend said she was making it her "duty" at my birthday party to find me "Birthday Bootie" I was.... not.... that.... discouraging. She told everyone about her quest. Or maybe that was me. Which is why there were many times last night where I could be heard saying, "I'm not having random sex on my birthday!" I think I was affirming it just as much for myself, as I was for everyone around me who watched as I shook it like a salt shaker on every table we could clear off fast enough in VIP.

And speaking of the party itself: There are people that I have gotten to know through this blog thing that I've begun to consider my real-life friends... so posting their names would be weird. But I love them. And I love that they came. The night was very special, mainly because of the people that were there. We chose that place, not for its "cool factor," but because they play good music and we don't need a scene when we have our down-ass crew.

**EEEEw: A woman sitting across from me in starbucks just took a digital picture of her engagement ring. Now she's taking more. Evidently, she's not getting the quality she'd like... Now she's holding her hand in the window to get better gleam from her rock. *BLETCH* And she's wearing heels. Who wears heels on a Sunday afternoon??? Yuck Yuck Yuck.**

Back to the salmon: I may have been randy, (and though I may have joked otherwise) no part of me finds random *anything* appealing. Remember in college when the idea of meeting some hottie at a party and dancing and drinking and making out seemed romantic? Like you might meet your next boyfriend that way? I have no such delusions anymore.

So yeah. This is my own 23yo turning point: I'm now looking for quality. And salmon or no salmon, cocktails or no cocktails, that's just what I'm about. I have no idea what that means in any pragmatic sense. ...But that's my 23yo personal assignment. Last year it was "Date Nice Guys." This year it's: Quality Courting born of Libido Leadership.

Damn. I'm getting old.



Hoping to Learn #2:
How do you accept a Pompous Person's Peace Offering without losing your own dignity?

Very rarely is it a real apology. And, typically, they've been an asshole themselves, perhaps even continued to be an asshole on more than one occasion. So how do you handle this graciously? (You can't ignore them, cuz then you'll look more mad than you are).

Back in September, I chose to be passive agressively combative in one such circumstance which resulted in being called a negro amid an email stream I'm sure my office's Big Brother *still* laughs about. (Lesson #18573: Don't shit where you eat).

Perhaps I'm being petty. It's true: I rarely forgive and forget. And when I do, it's because the friendship was more important than the offense.

But really. Are you supposed to bow down and thank Rah for his returned rays of sunshine?? Please.

Am I missing an option here?


Favorite 22yo Lesson

Courtesy of a Venezuelan friend:

"Donde hay pelo, hay felicidad."

I miss that funny, hairy Salsa stud...


Rug Pull

Let's get the Life Lessons started, shall we?

K and I have had the same experience with 2 different men over a span of 4 months (not necessarily the past 4, just the same 4). This makes me think that this is something of a phenomenon. And though supportive of one another we may be, helpful... is another story. Neither one of us can see the forest for the trees, and I'd hate to deal with this for another year.

So (with life-cramming in mind) Riddle Me This:

K and I, with similar "Father Issues" are most often the noncommital ones in relationships. Both men actively persued us, respectively (K and I don't share. Not like that. Not ever.)

This persuing took place for a month- 4 months (also respectively).

However, the minute K and I gave up the French Chick act and warmed up to them (on completely different schedules) both men completely flipped their (again, respective) scripts.

When the previous day they were spouting words like "pursuit" and "girlfriend" the next day they were "not ready." The rug was completely pulled out from under us.

So... what happened here?
For the record: Sex was not the catalyst for said Script Flipping. One relationship was already sexual, one never was.

The question is this: Why would a man talk himself (and someone else) into a relationship that he ultimately doesn't even want???

***I think I may have let my 23-Cramming and 66-Sweating get me into some Premature-Multiple-Posting trouble. This post seems to make K and I look slightly pathetic. Whatever. (As I told one guy who asked about my rejection ratio: "...in their defense, they usually get to know me first.") LOL. However, PLEASE don't let this deter you from helping us Double Deuces out.***

Cramming 23

I turn 23 in a week.

I had previously had this idea that 23 meant something. Big. Like, viable adulthood or something. It's why I began freaking out about my job. I'm not sure if it was a life-long opinion, or one born of December '05, staring down the mouth of my 23rd year. Then again, does the origin of this idea really matter?

The point is: I had expected to have a few more answers than I currently do. And now it's crunch time.

I'm not one to accept premature defeat: In college, I could pull an all-nighter and emerge the next morning with 10 pages of A- quality BS on a book (or two or three) that I had read the same evening. Following this logic, there's no way I can't "cram" an equivalent amount of life knowledge into the next 6 days.

I'm devoting the coming week's posts to my as-yet unanswered life questions. And I want answers. Really. I do. So if you think you can shed some light... please give this double deuce a hand. Gracias.


Bittersweet: What I Left Behind In OK (A tribute to Faulkner)

On Saturday night I was sitting in a bar called Roosters with my cousin, watching her boyfriend and his friends play pool. There were at least a dozen scattered people I’d gone to High School with also there.
Yeah. My *N Word* beater.
-Huh? What did you say?

His shifty, sideways glance gave him away: He’d forgotten he was in the company of an east coast liberal. His comment wasn’t directed at me, but he knew he was caught.
Uhm. I keep my bat at the front door.
-No you didn’t.

I leaned over to whisper to my host.
Did he just say ‘The N Word’?

She took a drag of her cigarette, but she decided to give it to me straight.

The guy next to me was anxious to resume our flirting.
You don’t like that word, huh?
What, did you date one- a black person- or something?
OK. Well, see. What you have to understand is, it’s not that bad of a word.
It’s not all black people, just some black people. Even Chris Rock said there’s a difference between the two.
-“Bigger and Blacker”?
Yeah. That was it. It’s like the difference between a white person and White Trash.
-Well, I don’t say that word either, and—
No, really. You’re missing the point. It describes a certain type of black person...

And thus began the 20 very unsexy minutes where the man that was hitting on me tried to justify the use of ‘The N Word.’ I sipped my beer hoping he might just disappear. He didn’t. Maybe I could shut him up:
It sounds like you’re describing a level of ignorance. Why not call those people ignorant instead?
-No. That’s way worse. Watch—-

He turned to his buddy.
Would you rather be called White Trash or Ignorant?
-White Trash.

Then he looked across the table to his half-Mexican friend:
Would you rather be called a Beaner or Ignorant?
-A Beaner.

“Beaner” tried to expound on his friends point.
Look. I have cousins in the largest gang in North America. The MS 13. And they’re fucking Wetbacks. And I tell them so to their face!

It was such a relief to see L a few minutes later.
You’ll never believe the conversation I just had...
-Yeah. There’s not a lot of opportunity for black people here. That’s why I left. I’m at Langston now. Business Management.
Wow. That’s great! You still talk to ___?

Sunday, he chuckled on his couch:
So you date me way back when and you spend the rest of your life concerned about brown folks...

His Mom didn’t chuckle when I told her the story earlier that evening.
Would you ever move back?
-No, I couldn’t deal with the people…

Then she told me a story about how she had recently confronted a racist person.
…So I went up to her: Do I know you? Are you sure? Aren’t you that cashier at JCPenny’s? Sure? Well, lovely top.. And I touched her, and she cringed, but I just smiled…

A healthy 20 minutes later I walked out of her home, slowly realizing that in her own, long-winded way she had shamed me. And she had a point: If I really cared, wouldn’t I stick around and actively try to make things better?


It was Sunday morning and Mom and I were driving to Daylight Donuts. She was less condemning.
I know what you’re saying. You want to be around people with the same value system as you. And it’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along about relationships; you can couple up across a divide, but you’ll spend your life fighting for the things you take for granted.
-But I’ve always enjoyed dating people that can teach me new things. I guess, thogh, there are already certain things I can’t compromise on, like last night proved.


Saturday night L took me to the other side of Roosters. There was hip hop playing and a cluster of brown faces in the corner, but no dance floor like I’d hoped.
This is Roar, ____’s ex-girlfriend.
-O yeah, I remember that.
--You do? That was High School! Did you graduate with me?
-No, I graduated in ’96 with L’s brother. But I remember you two.


I had been giddy to see him that evening. I had gone the entire day (Sunday) without makeup, my bra strap sticking out of my sweater while playing cards with my grandparents, but I had changed and primped to see him. I was wearing tight jeans. And pink.
It had been years, but there we were, on his couch, overlapping legs and holding hands.
What do you miss about us?

We reminisced about our first love, how pure and uncomplicated it was.
I’m not sure I could ever trust someone like that again.
-No one’s ever tried to understand me, who I am and what I come from the same way since. No one’s respected me at face value like that since you.
If I could have chosen, I wouldn’t have had a baby with her. But you always made me wear a condom.

O yeah. His kid. His daughter.

Earlier, in the car, I’d been indignant, as if she was my own:
You just can’t raise a strong black woman here. No offense to your Mom, cuz she did a good job with your sisters and all, but you want to raise a strong, intelligent and conscious black woman, and you can’t do that here!

On his couch that night, I was ready to jump his bones, kid or no kid, mine or not. He’s still so sexy, and the same sweet guy I’ll always love. I never said so, though I don't think I had to.
But he touched my hand.
These days, it’s so different. It’s just different being a Dad. I may see a woman I’m attracted to, and I may talk to her, or I may not, but it’s just not my focus.

I hugged him goodnight and he felt exactly like I remembered, like a puzzle piece fit snugly with my own. Still, it seemed as though we’d never stood in such different places, or further apart. It hit me, as I walked out of his front door: he may be less long-winded, but he’s definitely his Mother’s son.


As Promised: Dirty Plane Jokes

Via my Cousin:
Eating sunflowe seeds is like giving head. U put it in your mouth, suck the hell outta it, get the nut then spit it out!

Via my Workmate:
A pirate walks into a bar with a wheel on his fly. The bartender asks why it's there. He responds: Aargh! It's drivin' me nuts!

Via an Old Flame:
Q:What did the penis say to the condom?
A:Cover me, I'm in!

Via a Guy I'm "Talking To" now:
(Actually, it was incoherent. *Sigh* ...NEXT!)

Via a Blog Friend:
Q:What's the difference between a husband and a boyfriend?
A:45 minutes.

...And they say Bloggers are less jaded...


Big Thanks

Thank you to everyone who tried to make my time yesterday, stuck on an airplane sitting on the runway for waaay over an hour, just a little more fun by texting me dirty jokes. Some of them were really cute!!

A better post to come, later... but I have to get on *another* flight now.... GRRRRR.



All I want to do is go home. There's a wedding tomorrow, and I'm really trying to get there. I just want to go home.

But I left work at 2:30 for my 5:15 flight out of BWI. And then I had to get my bag at home. And then I had to throw more crap in it. And then I had to lug the 60 pounds into the back of my Escape. And then I had to turn left on New York Ave from Florida (note to self: never do that again). And then I had to sit in traffic on the BW Expressway, when there's NEVER traffic on the BWX'way. And then I had to park in long term parking and get on the slow ass buss.

So when I got to the counter at 4:44, I tried the doe-eyed approach. "Your flight is at 5:17," the ticket agent said, implying that there's no shot in hell. Wide-eyed: "Uh-huh."

Turns out the deal isn't that I was late. Not totally. The deal is that it's Spring Break and they've overbooked all of their flights. Damn Northwest overbooked ALL of their flights. By, like, 10 people. Which means that I was not able to get on standby for the 8am flight, and there would "be no point" in waiting for the 2:30 because I would just be in Milwaukee longer. There's no earlier flight out of Milwaukee than 9. Like.Fucking.Seriously.

So I came home and wasted 45 minutes on facebook.
**Melville-like aside: So, why is it that none of the guys I dated in H.S. or college are on FB? Everyone touted the FB's "stalking" potential: I just wanted to see recent pics of old flames, but still... I'm disappointed. OK, back to the discussion at hand...**
NOW what am I gonna do until 4pm? Should I go into work??


Because the Big Black Banana Told Me To...

...I'm posting a pic of my latest celebrity encounter. (Do I look like a smarmy ass, or what?)

I was graciously extended an invitation to the Radio and Television Correspondent's Dinner (er, Pre- and Post- Parties) by a guy who will remain name- (and picture-) less until he signs off.

Anywho, I was flattered to be his evening's partner in crime, and I loved all the elbow-rubbing the evening afforded. And the dancing. And the free drinks.

Who knew Fox News producers could dance so well?? Who knew CNN could throw such a shindig??

I just love getting all gussied up...

Unhooked Generation

aka- "I Want A Stick Figure of Myself"

I really appreciated Jillian Straus' publicist sending us free copies of her book, "Unhooked Generation." I really did. Not that I finished it. Miss Straus had some good points, but I'm not sure I was of her target demographic. For starters, I'm not even in Gen X.

Straus beat her point like a dead horse: that Gen X-ers are too fucked up to date. Which may be true. Lord knows I don't like dating them. But Straus seemed to construe certain situations in that specific vein, when they were not as obviously (to me)stilted in one direction as she would have her readers believe.

Take for instance page 115's story about "Marissa." IM did not kill this woman's relationship. Marissa, to my mind, was merely too much of a pussy to tell the man she liked that IM didn't seem formal or "real" enough to her. Given the chance, he might've changed or explained his attitude toward IM.

Or Susan on page 144, the woman that had flirted with two different men at a party, still undecided as to which she'd rather bring home, when they all hopped in a cab and ended up at a strip club. Personally, I think Susan got played. I think the men found out she had made herself available to either of them- isn't it possible that if they're both at the same party, that they're at least comfortable acquaintances?- and instead of competing for her attention, they decided to give her a reality check. Susan tried to play two men, and they played her back.

Or Liz's story: Sorry to break it to you, hun, but Adam has Herpes or Molluscum or some other catchy-kind-of-thing and waited forever to do the nasty until his outbreak subsided. As for the failed "DTR," all Liz accomplished by pointing out that other men ask her out is create a seed of jealousy in Adam's head. But, clearly, if you say something like that but don't ask for changes in the relationship, you're sending the message that things are cool and you just wanted to remind him of what he has. No wonder nothing's changed.

Honestly, it seems this "Unhooked Generation" is just that because they are incapable of being honest with themselves or anyone else. What's so embarrassing about asking, "Why aren't you trying to get in my pants?,' 'Why do we see each other only once a week?,' 'Why did you guys bring me to a strip club?,' 'I'm interested in sex tonight. Do you think you'd be worth my time?,' 'Would you mind calling me instead of IMing?.'

Why is this Rocket Science?

There are two things in Ms. Straus' book that I took major offense to.
First, the average marriage age of women and men was quoted as 25 and 27 respectively and referred to many different times as "so late." What's so late about 25???
Second, I don't care what disclaimer you put in the first chapter of the book: spending over a hundred pages of the rest of the book referring to the "Evil Influence of the Negative Effects of Feminism," is absolutely criminal. Like, Jessica Simpson kind of Criminal.

And then there was something just plain wrong:
Not all white women want small butts. That's, like, sooo '92. I'm working on a bigger one. "Red beans and rice didn't miss her..."

Like I said though, Jillian had some better points. One of which was that people make snap decisions while dating based on superficial stuff (page 112). That got me thinking. How many times have I ignored a man, outright, because he wasn't 6'0 or couldn't salsa? In response, I've created my own list. These are completely UNsuperficial concerns of mine. I am considering throwing out my old list of date questions (What do you do, How many siblings do you have...?) and just asking the following 8 questions on future dates. Were a man to answer all of them correctly, I might just throw my height/weight scale right out the window for him...

1- Do you go down? With what kind of enthusiasm? Do you enjoy it? How much? Why?
2- How close are you to your Mother?
3- What do you expect from me if you pay for this drink/dinner/ferris wheel ride?
4-When your parents get old, will you put them in a nursing home?
5- What is your idea of a life partner?
6- What was the highest level of education you completed?
7- How do you feel about adoption?
8- What is your experience with organized religion?

...These are the things that matter to me. Why didn't I think of this sooner? ....???
Wudda ya think? Would you ask a guy all this? Guys, would you run for the hills were someone this blunt with you?


Things I Learned In Tucson This (Extended) Weekend

  • I am Exactly 1/64th Cherokee.

  • Hedgehog is the name of a cactus.

  • There is crazy on both sides of the family tree.

  • My Grandfather got kicked out of H.S. 3 times before he married my Gramma and joined the Army. The last time, he was expelled because he stole a school bus that was en route to a football game-- the bus with all the cheerleaders on it.

  • My Grandmother sleeps and eats better when someone else is around.

  • This may be the last time I get to visit my Grandmother. (She and I, however, think she'll bounce back).

  • Next visit, though, I may have to rent my own car.

  • My 11-year-old cousin is only one inch shorter than me.

  • My Grandmother has been a Unitarian since the 70's. Like, I didn't know the church existed back then.

  • There are still pictures of my Mother at my Grandmother's house.

  • There are more pictures of me in the "Main Family" box, mixed in with pictures of my Great Grandparents, than there are in the box marked "Matt's Family" which is already nearly full with Bubba pictures. (No, I'm not jealous...)

  • Unlike contemporary pics, you can't mark old prints from the 40's with Sharpie marker. I ruined a pic of Uncle Gene... at least Gramma and I went through the entire box and labeled the rest (in regular pen).