Sunday morning rambling

Could anything be better after a pleasant evening spent with family, than to sit in your own crib, in silence, ass naked, drinking Sumatra and watching one of your favorite movies? At this point, I think not.

Does Breez Brady have to choke a bitch?

Get ya bail money together for me just in case folks. Earlier this week, my crackhead neighbor tried to sell me some dollar store jewelry for ten dollars. Now initially, I didn't know that this was a crackhead transaction. It's not uncommon for the ladies around here to get their hustle on trying to sell Avon, Tupperware, or whatever. I told her I don't wear it, but I would check out what she had and let my friends know. After about five minutes or so, her behavior went into classic crackhead mode: saying she didn't want all the neighbors to see what she had, hyping up shitty merchandise (you would have thought she had the hope diamond) and last of all, unnecessary whispering. (Particularly since the stuff was so shitty. Honestly, no one would have missed it. In any event she was initially trying to get into my spot and I was like "uh, no, my house is a mess," which is code for "No Crack Whores Allowed En Mi Casa." So I gave her the big thanks but now thanks and went about my business.

Fast forward to today. She knocks on my door and said it was my neighbor. I thought it was my other neighbor and so I opened the door. Lo and behold, I'm face to face with Felicia. (You Friday lovers know who I'm talking about.) She just kind of stepped into my house and was like "I still have that stuff if you want it," all while giving my crib the once over. I tell her "Oh hell no" and put her out.

My point for telling this story is to say this. If I come home, and my shit is at so much as a different angle from how I left it, I am going to kick her door in and DISMANTLE that ho. I'm not asking questions, I'm not gonna ask where my stuff is, I'm just going to break her back. If there is anything in this world that I hate, it's a scheming, scamming, theivin' ass bastard. Let it be stated that I will make dominoes out of her vertebrae if my abode is disturbed.

Okay, got that off my chest. Go back to your lives citizens.

"He's Touching Me" and Other Crap I Hate to Hear

I'm a mother of two - a boy and a girl - both are positively gorgeous. They each have beautiful cocoa skin, warm brown eyes, thick, dark eyelashes and I'll be damned if they weren't blessed with perfectly shaped eyebrows. They are also full of personality and very loving, which is just as attractive to a parent as any physical manifestation of beauty.

That being said, some of the things they do make me want to set myself on fire and throw myself into traffic. I'm inclined to believe that their Auntie Chelle has CPS on speed dial for whenever she hears me say "hold ONE second." I am able to demonstrate tremendous restraint when dealing with them, however, I think I'm entitled to some venting times. Here are some things that I (and a lot of other parents) hate to hear and what goes through my mind (but can never say) when I hear them.

1. "He's/She's Touching Me"

Of course you're touching each other. I drive a fucking Celica for crying out loud and we're always giving somebody a ride. I've had you both checked out for leprosy and various other flesh degrading afflictions and you're okay, so touching should really be a non-issue. Further, if you don't stop that screaming, I'M going to touch somebody and it won't be pretty, I assure you.

2. "You Never Take Us Anywhere/Buy Us Anything"

That's right. The trips to the aquarium, McDonald's, the movies, Toys R Us, WalMart and the like have all been figments of your imagination. The three storage containers that spilleth over with toys - fake. You exist in the Matrix. Sorry to break it to you so harshly, but rumor has it that this dude named Neo is about to fuck it up for all of us, so enjoy it while you can.

3. "Why Didn't My Dad Call Me?"

Because he's a deadbeat broke ass that is so terrified by the thought of Mommy asking him for money, he is completely willing to throw his relationship with you two down the toilet. If it's any consolation, he's liked by few, and when he's old, you can put him in the shittiest home known to man.

4. "You're ALWAYS going to work"

You didn't get the memo? Having a spare moment to myself is sooo yesterday. I'd much rather have my boss on my ass than spend time with my kids. What the hell? Do you think I'm doing this shit for my health? I don't see you complaining when the cable bill is paid and you can watch Cartoon Network until you lapse into an animation induced coma. Now buckle your punk ass in the seatbelt so I can drop you off and go to work.

5. "You like her/him better than me"

Yes...yes I do. As a matter of fact you haven't seen what I do to the kids that I REALLY don't like. You HAD a third sibling. Wanna find out what happened to him? Keep playing.

6. "He/She is touching my stuff!"

Honestly, who gives a shit? It's not my stuff. You really think I don't have anything better to do, huh? Do you see that Law & Order is on? Get your punk ass upstairs and sit down somewhere before they do a "ripped from the headlines" episode about us.

7. "Why can't we just go to McDonalds"

You ungrateful summama...I just spent $10 on chicken breast and another $20 on seafood. Do you know that shit was a delicacy in my house? I didn't know what white meat tasted like until I was 12. Frankly, it would be in your best interest to get out of here before I hurl this pot at you.

8. Temper Tantrums (Yes, I know this doesn't require them to say anything)

Not sure if you've heard, but they shoot dogs who behave that way. Just some food for thought.

9. "I don't know how it broke"

How do you keep breaking my shit and not knowing how it happened? That's the fifth time this week. Here's an idea, I'm gonna run through your room and break all your shit, then make you replace it with your money. Allowance is a dollar a week. Good luck with that buddy. By the time you've earned enough money to replace it, you'll be too old to care about it. HA HA.

10. "You always get to watch what you want. It's not fair."

You did not put in on this mannnnnn. Let's go with the fact that you're lucky I let you do anything at all with ya broke ass. You start kicking in on some bills around this biatch, then we'll talk, because right now all I'm hearing is the breeze. The nerve. Before you leave the room get me some kool aid and turn up the volume. I don't feel like reaching for the remote right now.

Hype That I Just Don't Buy Into

I believe that Steve Harvey said it best when he made the statement, "White people...always in a hurry to jump on some bullshit." I'm all for liking what ya like, but sometimes, they take it too far. When white folks love something, the grab onto with with pitt bull ferocity and shake the shit out of it. For example:

"What the fuck is a Renee 'Zellwedger'?" Why is this woman one of Hollywood's biggest actresses? Ever since she exploded onto the scene in the incredibly corny "Jerry Maguire" (Where Black America got to cringe at Cuba Gooding, Jr. show himself to be Coon Supreme. Regina King was the ONLY thing that redeemed that movie in my opinion.) white folks have not been able to stop singing her praises. I don't think she's particularly bad, just so ridiculously generic I can't help but ask myself "Whyyyyyyyyyyy?" The bits and pieces that I saw of Bridget Jones were cute, but to me it was really an "Insert Random Actress Here" type of thing. The fact that she looks like a Picanese makes her fame even more difficult to comprehend.

That brings me to her "Cinderella Man" co-star Russell Crowe. Will somebody wash his greasy ass please? He has got to be the dirtiest looking so-and-so I've seen in all my days. Granted, I preferred him to that Fire Marshall Bill looking guy in "L.A. Confidential", and "Gladiator" was enjoyable because of the ass kicking and whatnot, but he just seems to play the same dude over and over. That's not a sign of ground breaking talent to me. Again, I don't think he's a BAD actor, just not anything great.

I have not been swept up by the "Desperate Housewives" (i.e. "Sex in the WASP-y Suburbs") craze either. My rule of thumb is this, if I look at a random television show and I go five minutes without seeing a black face, I lose interest. I see white folks all day long. I'd like some color in my free time, thank you very much. For all I know, it's a great show, but watching a bunch of white women fuck around for an hour is not my idea of entertainment.

Jumping off the Huey P. Long bridge and slitting my wrists and throat on the way down is more appealing than the mere idea of watching a Dr. Phil anything. As if his stupid ass talk show wasn't enough, he gets these one hour specials where he can berate people on prime time television as well. He's a loud mouthed bully as far as I can tell. To say that he is an ass is a gross understatement.

The Tom Cruise-Katie Holmes union kind of grosses me out. They keep publicizing that she used to dream about marrying Tom Cruise...but what they neglect to repeat is that she was in grammar school and he was a grown ass man. Why are folks not just seeing this for what it is? A lecherous sugar daddy that snapped up a sweet young thing while he's going through midlife. It's gross I tell ya...just gross.

The pitiful tone of the commercial has ruined my daughter's chances of ever setting foot in a Build-a-Bear Workshop. What kind of loser ass Daughter of Frankenstein kid are you? The girl is sitting in her room singing and looking supremely lonely and unloved when her mom eventually comes in and says "Since your bitch ass is to mousey to have even one friend, let's go make this stupid bear." At least that's what I got out of it. When I tell my kids to make friends I don't mean CREATE them. That's just weird to me. Her simulating single parenthood with one of those damned Cabbage Patch Kids is more than enough for me. I draw my line in the sand at Build-a-Bear.

And I'm equally adverse to those stupid ass Yu-Gi-Oh cards for my son. First of all, every male figure on that cartoon looks ambiguously gay or like the Spawn of Satan. I didn't jump on the SpongeBob Squarepants is gay bandwagon, but men with Farrah Fawcett hair wearing eyeliner definitely concern me. I'm sure there are folks that disagree with me but to them I say "Fuck you. Get your own damned kids."

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Maternal Musings

Today my handsome son graduated from kindergarten. He looked so grown up and serious. It was actually quite hilarious since just that morning I was watching him running around in his underwear looking like Gollum. Of course I did get teary when I saw him walking up the aisle...THAT'S MY BABY MANNNNNN. As it turns out, he got the bronze award for academic achievement this year and he's reading on a second grade level. GO TY!! I completely forgot where I was and went into Bonquiesha mode when I heard my child's name called. Of course I know that my kids are bright, but to hear it recognized does something to a mom. Ah well, my parents embarrassed me with their spontaneous displays of pride too.

Ty had a really rough time this year. Besides the fact that he's already a typical boy, he's only seen his father about 6 times since July of last year and he developed this funky skin condition called lichen nitidus that is really a pain in the ass. He's got these fine bumps all over his body and they particularly concentrate in areas where the skin has been broken by cuts, scabs, etc. He's a six year old boy, so you do the math on that. I don't even have to go there on how accepting six year old kids are of things they don't understand. To say the least, he got picked on a lot.

I could see how it hurt him because he's normally a very sociable, happy go lucky kid. After the fourth busted lip and the second ripped shirt, telling him to walk away and tell the teacher was really getting old. I found myself one morning on the way to school telling him "If one of those punks grab you up, I don't even want you to ask questions. You jump on that little bastard and talk later - AFTER the teacher has pried you off his ass." Eh, some kids get Wheaties in the morning . . . mine get sparring instructions. Whatever. I discovered that it's really hard to convince a nice kid to punch the shit out of somebody that won't leave them alone.

He goes to a ghetto ass public school and EVERYBODY there is related to somebody else. Occasionally, that led to him having to fight a couple of kids at once. There were occasions that I found it funny (I've never professed perfection). I got a call from the school one day related to his behavior. It seems that Tyson had taken off his belt and was swinging it at some boys that day. I make it a practice to talk to him about the calls before I react. The story went this way:

I was in the the cafeteria and Ghetto Name Boy #1 was messing with me and I hit him. When I went outside, Ghetto Name Boy #1 got his cousin Ghetto Name Boy #2 and they were both pushing me at the water fountain and when I went to go tell, they blocked my way. So I took of my belt and got to swinging.

I almost chewed off my tongue trying not to laugh. He had a few other incidents this past school year, but constant communication with his teacher and principal has paid off and he has made great strides. He is still a work in progress because he is quite active, but this year, he's going to play sports, so hopefully that will take care of at least some of the excess energy.

Whatever the case may be, I'm looking at his medal and certificates and I've still got a big goofy grin on my face. I pray that this is just one step of many that he will take on the path to becoming a prolific black man.

Who's Afraid of the Boogie Man?

See me, want me, give me, trust me
Feed me, fuck me, love me, touch me
This whole world is cold and ugly
What we are is low and lovely
I am the most beautiful boogie man
The most beautiful boogie man
Let me be your favorite nightmare
Close your eyes and ill be right there
While...Open...All...Over...A-gain

-Mos Def "The Boogie Man Song"

Damn! Favorite nightmare? That's serious. Something about this song just makes me want to engage in some seriously adult activities. There's just this understated intensity about it that just puts you in a zone. Or maybe it's just me.

The lyrics have me thinking about the likelihood every woman having a Beautiful Boogie Man in her life or at least in her past. That person that macks so deliciously, you know it's game, but you eat it up anyway. The brother that you relish telling yourself you won't think about anymore . . . after you make that laaaaast phone call.

Don't misunderstand, I'm not referring to abusers and the like. Just honest to goodness Boogie Men. Though he can come in the form of a playa or a thug, he doesn't necessarily have to be. He could be the man that's exactly right for ALL the wrong reasons or maybe that brother who stepped on the scene just in time for it to be the wrong time.

Granted, we'd never admit to a brother that he is our Boogie Man, but we know him when we see him. The single woman's "homegirls before men" credo is summarily tossed out the window. In all honesty, the interaction does not even need to be physical. It could just be something about the thought of his presence, the sound of his voice on the line or maybe just the fact that he inexplicably makes you smile just a little bit harder than you do for the mere mortals that you typically associate with. If you're a woman reading this and you feel me, you're probably smiling right now. If you're a man, you're probably wondering if you are that man . . . THE man. Who knows? You just might be.

You Wanted to Know

After reviewing the questions posted by my friends I realized, "I associate with some filthy bastards." Ah well, I guess I asked for it. Forgive me, as there may be some dodging. Here goes:

I. Filthy Danja:

1. What is your NASTIEST sexual fantasy? Be honest. I mean shit that is so nasty makes you blush when u think about it.

There's two things with that 1) at 28, the only thing I really blush at are compliments; and, 2) I don't think of fantasies and sexuality in terms of "nasty" (ya nasty bastid LOL!) That being said, there is something about the thought of tearing it down in the sky box at a Hornets championship game thing (yeah...Hornets and championship - REAL fantasy, lol) that does it for me, but like I said, nothing I do is nasty. Heh heh.

2. When was the last time you cried and why did you cry?

I'm a big ass crybaby. I know folks tend to stereotype women as emotional cheaters who use tears as leverage, but not me. I cry at movies, weddings, graduations, when I'm angry, you name it. The last time I cried regarding that something that affected me directly though was when my boss pissed me off and it was a choice between crying or getting creative with my letter opener.

3. If you had Djimon Honsou (sp?) for 8 hours and you could do anything with him, give me THREE detailed descriptions of things you would do.

The FIRST thing I'd do is thank the Lord for sending a man THAT fine my way.

Second I'd work fulfilling that un-nasty sky box fantasy of mine. (I'd fight the urge to ask him to yell out "Give us us free!" But I promise NOTHING!)

Third, react the sky box festivities in the arena parking lot...and on the way home...and once we get home. Hey, I don't know that man, I didn't say I liked him for his mind.

II. Native Feather the West Coast Beauty:

1. Have you ever been in love and with whom?

Yep. I've had decent dating relationships over time where I still have affection for the guy. However, if you're referring to being completely in love, check Him, December 10, 2004 blog. He was my sweetie and the only person I've felt that way about so far. I wish him the best.

2. What is one dream that you have and do you think that it will be fulfilled?

To be a published author. I can see that it will be fulfilled.

3. What is your dream car?

This gorgeous '66 El Camino. I love muscle cars. I'm not a car junkie or anything, but I would LOVE to drive around in that. If you want something modern, a silver Q45 would look good around me.

III. The Inquisitive Tiger:

1. WHERE DID U GO WHEN U LEFT US AT THE POOL HALL?

Oh how I hate you.

2. WHAT WERE THE POSITIONS U MIGHT HAVE BEEN IN , IF SEX OCCURRED THAT NIGHT?

I was too busy hating you.

3. HOW MANY LICKS OR SUCTION DOES IT TAKE FOR U TO MAKE A MAN CUM?

Here I am...hating you again.

IV. Recent Loser of Blog Virginity

1. I want to know why all of your questions are about your sex life...let me find out that you are a southern freak!

It just seems that I have surrounded myself by people whose minds inhabit their southern regions. Horndogs!

2. I would like to know why you felt to need to include me in your blog addiction? Now I am here ever freaking day dammit!

Heh heh heh! Blogging is fun!! It's a great way to say whatever the hell you want and if someone comes to your casa with that bullshit, you can say "Beyotch, this is my shit! Kick rocks! 'Es mi casa, y yo viva aqui!'" LMFAO

3. Um and I like Sabre's # 3, just make sure you document your techinque (getting ready to cut and paste).

Uhhh...the way I hear it, shouldn't I be taking lessons from you? Just asking...

V. The Lovely Lady Neena

1. when you were little, like say 8 years old, what did you want to be when you grew up?

A ninja assassin, lol.

2. going along with all the sexual questions... (u must be a freak)... lol... describe your "first time", your age, where you were... the whole 9.

Ahhh, the day that will forever live in infamy. I was relatively old, 21, living on my own and of all the dumb luck, got pregnant. Unlike a lot of folks, I don't see it as a particularly ground breaking day, other than, without it, my beautiful son would have never come to be. It's not that it was bad. It just was what it was. And I am not a freak...my friends however, are, lol.

3. describe the perfect date... without concern for time and money.

The perfect date to me, is anywhere that would enable that brother and I to enjoy each other's company and connect with one another. So movies, concerts, maybe even parties, would be out. A nice dinner followed by walking and talking would really be ideal for me.

Break Yo'self FOOL!! Blog Jackin!

I'm stealing an idea from a blogger, who stole the idea from two other bloggers. (Is there no honor?)

Actually, I think the idea is hot, but I'm also busy (and a lil lazy) so I'll just paste the concept:

So for those of you who don't frequent the other blogs that I do, Im going to explain what I am doing. Today is Tuesday. You all have until Friday to submit 3 Questions that you want me to answer

THREE QUESTIONS

Leave the questions in the comment section. I will answer the questions Saturday or Sunday and post every answer to every question to the best of my ability.

Ask anything you want to know about me. No question is too crazy.

I'm going to be supremely bored this weekend, so take pity on me and give me something to do. Don't force me to go to the mall and buy another pair of shoes!!

Garage Sale

In life we amass items that are positively useless, yet we hold onto them. Whether it's a skirt that you're NEVER going to get your big ass into again, an exercise bike that you've had since the Carter administration, a sofa in the attic, whatever. Ultimately, a light goes off in our heads, "This is some unnecessary ish," and we have a garage sale to get rid of the stuff. Once we sell it, it's gone. No returns, no exchanges.

I think people should have a garage sale of issues. Sometimes we hang and harp on to things that are totally unnecessary and all they is clog up space. So I'm putting some stuff out at Mel's Garage Sale:

1. My marriage/past relationships - FOR SALE!!

The past is the past. Everyone is different. Some folks are great, some will do you dirty. C'est la vie. No big story there. I've lived and learned the lessons I believe I was meant to learn from those few bad experiences and now I'm slapping a sign on that topic. I'm knocking on the door of my 30s and there's no need to enter it with the 20s garbage.

2. Losing weight - MUST GO!!!

I'm a big girl...I'd like to think I'm a big pretty girl, but a big girl all the same. I'm in the process of breaking off my passionate affair with grease and gravy. However, conversations about that are off limits. No one cares. Most of the people I hang around now have only known me as a fat brawd. There's nothing more pathetic than hearing somebody talk about "When I'm a size 8 again" or "In my thin days" with a piece of chicken dangling from her paw. Shut up and do a push up...or better yet, push AWAY.

3. Fincial Standing - CLEARANCE!!

My goal is to be about it. As the talking increases, the action decreases. So now I plan, and work it out from there. All that mamby pamby complaining is gone though.

4. My occasionally shitty job - LIQUIDATION!!

I complain about my job. I feel overworked, underpaid, but yet, I still manage to pay (some of) my bills and blog! So either I quit and work for a firm where I have to punch a clock and wear hose, or I shut the phuk up, relax and work in the environment where I have a fair amount of leeway, can handle my personal issues as they arise and I can give my lovely gams some air.

Whew...now maybe my real life can begin!!

For all the right reasons

We've all seen it before. Two people meet, fall in "lurve," get married, fall out of love and divorce. It is not uncommon to hear at least one of the parties in this predicament say, "We got married for all the wrong reasons." This has me thinking, what are some "right" reasons to get married. Yeah, I know about love and all of that other stuff, but what about other things that may count. I've compiled a list of such reasons (not including sex and money), from a woman's point of view. I've also added a list of appropriate engagement gifts, in lieu of an engagement ring.

1. Taking out the trash

That shit is dead as Jimmy Hoffa to me (and most women that I know). I'm sure it's a social conditioning thing. In every house I've been exposed to, either in person or via television, the man or son of the family took out the trash. I hate taking out my own garbage. I mean, I've already had to buy, cook and clean the shit up, but now, I've got to throw it out too? Basuro!! I guess there's no logical reason why I should hate the task of walking to the corner, but I do. A lifetime supply of those Hefty stretch-y bags and a large garbage can that can't be stolen would be a suitable gift in this instance.

2. Killing bugs

The man should kill the bug. Don't ask me why, but it's one of those unwritten rules. I live in one of the bug capitals of the galaxy, so I spare NO expense in keeping the critters out of my home. I have been known to leave and give a bug the house until I think that it has relocated. A bug crawled across my foot once and I don't think I have ever recovered. If I merely see a bug, I get that creepy-crawly feeling. Therefore, killing bugs...played out. Let me meet a brother with a can of Bengal and some roach motels and it will be on like popcorn.

3. Car repairs

As the owner of a shitty vehicle, I have a moderate amount of auto knowledge. However, this knowledge does not prevent mechanics from attempting to screw me with a 10 inch piece of unsanded crooked wood. Once I went to get a tune up at Pep Boys and those bastards tried to convince me that my ignition needed to be replaced...my fucking ignition. You know...the thing that I needed to crank up in order to transport my car TO Pep Boys. Every time I would go to them, they would tell me I needed no less than $500.00 in services that were absolutely critical. I had my dad bring my car once, and he was merely told of $75.00 in maintenance services that he might find helpful. Wallet raping bastards. I guess that this marriage position should only be filled by non-shade tree mechanics.

4. Talking to bill collectors

There are a lot of broke sisters in this world and they're tired of talking to bill collectors. If for some reason they can't get their financial shit together (though they can't fairly be too picky about the brothers from a financial standpoint), a brother that doesn't get rattled easily with a booming voice should do the trick. Since he has experience dealing with bill collectors, he probably doesn't have money to get a gift so bomb ass sex would have to be a requirement. Hey, the it's an ugly truth.

5. Health Insurance

Have you checked out the price of prescriptions lately? HOT DAMN! That is completely off the chain. A snaggle toothed brother with a PPO plan and a $10.00 copay might not look too bad. His gift, obviously, would be a health insurance card with your name on it.

Now, I'm not saying that a woman SHOULD get married for these reasons. However, if I'm 40 and still killing my own bugs and cussing out folks at Pep Boys, a sister is going to investigate her options.

A letter to my mother

Dear Mama,

You've been gone for 10 1/2 years now, and I can't quite say that it's ever gotten easier. We moved after you went away, and I didn't live there long after that. That place never felt like my home. I won't even tell you who Daddy married. Let's just say, I questioned your gift of reading people for a while.

I sometimes wish you would have met my first love. He was a sweetie. He used to ask me how I felt about you as someone who wanted to know, as opposed to being a polite shoulder. He actually blended in with the four of us and was pretty much like their brother. Anyway, life happened, we broke up and believe it or not, I don't even miss him anymore. I think you would have liked him all the same.

I got married and though that was a bust for the most part, I got two beautiful kids out of the deal. Don't even bother doing the math, my son was born four months before I got married. Eh, you always knew I was the rebel. They're wonderful though. Really smart too. Unfortunately, they inherited the Smith nailbeds. Sorry about that. I cried a lot when I carried them. I had support from a lot of people, but they weren't you. No one was even a close second. It's not their fault though.

I don't know how you did it with four. I'm barely hanging on with two. There were so many times I wanted to punch through a wall when I was younger because I couldn't understand where you were coming from. As I got older, I realized that it was because you could see exactly where I was headed. A lot of folks maintain that I would have never gotten divorced if you were still around. I say, I would have never gotten married. He wouldn't have lasted 10 minutes under the hawk eye.

Being a mother made me realize why you were so tough. It helped me see how important going with your gut could be. I remember how many times you would be on my tail because I didn't "seem" right, and you were usually right on the money. I appreciate that now.

I try to live in a way that would make you proud and sometimes, I'm sure a do. I fall way short a lot of times though. I'm just living one day at a time and doing my best though. Ultimately, that's all you really asked of us anyway, wasn't it?

It's so funny how I would spend so much time trying to get away from you, while all of my friends couldn't get enough of you. You always miss what's right under your nose. You remember them getting in the hospital bed with you? How did you manage to touch so many people, just with a few words? You are the only soul I know that mastered counsel without judgment. When they came to say goodbye, it was as though they had lost their own mothers. Jim McDonald died two days later. It was a hard time for all of us. Turning 18 is supposed to be a joyous milestone, but I never remember being more heartbroken than I was for that entire month.

Anne died in May of 1997. Her cancer came back and she went really quickly. That was actually the last year I visited your hometown or hers. Actually, I've lost touch with a lot of people since you've gone, and with the exception of a few, I can't say I'm trying to reestablish contact. It's just not the same.

There's not an event that goes by where I don't wish you were here. Ty graduates from kindergarten this month. You'd love Jae, but I know how you always liked boys - he'd definitely be your heart. They ask me to drive by the old house to see your tree every day. It's gotten so big, considering that it sat in the garden for years as little more than a stick. Those trees actually look like real pine trees believe it or not. I never thought they would. I think I drive by the old house to appease myself as well.

I miss you Mama. It still hurts and I still cry. I mean, I'm not a walking mess, but isn't time supposed to heal wounds. When I see my girlfriends shopping with their mothers, a little part of me breaks inside. You were gone right when I was truly beginning to appreciate you and realize how big you truly were. I realize that you were tough on me because you knew that things would never be easy for me. You knew I would have to be strong enough for all four of us. I think that I was, most of the time. There are times that I wish that you taught someone to be strong enough for me. For all I know, maybe you did, but after you left, I was alone for a long time.

Fortunately, the four of us are close in different ways, and we hold on to and be strong for one another. But we always miss you. And as long as you're gone we always will.

Cyber-thuggin and Whatnot

I love the internet, really, I do. I have gathered information, shopped, laughed, cried and wandered through the psyches of some pretty interesting folks. Through this medium, I have made a great friend (hugging my Ghetto Soul Twin) researched religious beliefs, obtained educational materials for my kids and learned the real definition of a Dirty Sanchez. (Bows graciously to Humanity Critic.) All in all, I can't really complain about it. However, there is an element pervading the internet that makes it undesirable.

Allow me to preface my rant by stating for the record the following fact: I'm a smart ass. That's something about me that probably won't change. There is nothing I take more pleasure in than shutting a moron, what is known as, the fuck up. There are days that it makes me tingle in places that I didn't even know existed. I know that it gets on peoples nerves, but ask me if I give two craps?

In an effort to spread my joy nationwide, I've joined a few Yahoo discussion groups. They can be informative, but more often than not, the groups are littered with disillusioned pseudo-intellectual desk jobbers, psychos with virtually no social skills and the unemployed masses -who have nothing better to do than bump their gums on the 'net. OCCASIONALY, you find a cool person, or someome who actually has something to say. All too often, discussions turn into overly emotional free for alls, logic loses it's foothold and wackiness ensues. Enter the cyber-jerk.

This type of person is tangled in the world wide web in various forms. All forms are both entertaining and annoying. Therefore, you don't know whether to laugh or slap the shit out of them.

You've got your cyber thugs who, when you disagree with them, say dumb shit like "I got heat for bitches like you," and "Yo you don't want it with me." WTF? How exactly did we get here? Give me a second and a half to shake in my cyber boots. Here's a helpful hint, real thugs, you know, the ones that should actually be feared, are too busy living the life of a ruffian to jump on the net and cyber-threaten.

Then there are the folks with cyber-issues that put their bullshit problems on the net a la "I caught my boyfriend cheating and I don't know what to do. Please help." Yet, the first voice that pipes up telling her to kick his philandering ass to the curb gets, "You don't know my man. We've been through so much." I'm sorry, I thought you wanted my opinion, not an amen to stand by the dude that had unprotected sex with his third baby's mama. Please beg MY pardon. Better yet, get some friends that you can actually see in person and ask them for advice.

One of my favorites is the illiterate intellectual. This person is an endless fountain of knowledge. Unfortunately, they can't spell one word of it. One lady went so far as to grossly misspell a word, then she defined it - you know, for the dummies that didn't know what the word meant. Typos and misspelling words aren't really biggies in and of themselves, however, when the person is trying to be a smart ass, or worse yet, gets angry when someone gives them the correct spelling, they fall under the category of cyber-jerk.

Every group consists of the obligatory cyber-sphincter. This person takes pleasure in regurgitating controversial, illogical opinions, simply to get a rise out of the group members. This person is usually an extremist in some way: complete chauvinist, ultra-conservative, ultra-liberal, man-hater or just your run of the mill curmudgeon/witch. It's obvious why the 'net is a hang-out for this sort. No real, sane person would spend five minutes in their company.

The cyber-sexual annoys me. This person is also known as also known as hot mama and sugar daddy. Virtually every post has a sexual reference. They make no bones about sharing how talented they are sexually. What they WOULD do for their man/woman is in heavy rotation in their conversations. However, they just NEVER seem to have a relationship. I urge these folks to set a personal goal: refrain from attempting to e-screw every screen name they encounter and see how exciting REAL life can be.

Basically, these people take the 'net way too seriously. It can really go too far when the owner of a group fits into this category. Once, for respectfully voicing my opinion, an owner gave me a "warning" and any further infractions (i.e. my disagreeing with him and not allowing him to talk to me like he removed me from his shoe) would result in my being banned. Of course my response was "Fuck you, so what?" Did he think he was going to have me exiled to Siberia?

When you get on the net, it is possible that people will talk shit about me, maybe spread rumors, etc. Maybe they'll do it over my head, maybe directly to my face. You know what? So what. It's truly not that serious.

So Ya Wanna Build a Bookcase

That's my new venture. I've done some hammer and nail building in the past, but all of the materials were already laid out for me. I found a couple of cool bookcases that I'm interested in, and have gotten the dimensions for each of them. I have learned what wood would be optimal and I have access to primo power tools (THANKS DAD!!), so now I plan to do the damn thing.

I am SO excited. Actually, the level of excitement concerns me a bit, but what the hell! Wish me luck.

Better Than S...Well, A Lot of Stuff

1 for the money
2 for the Lie
3 for my peoples in the struggle gettin by
4 Lu, Spig Nice, and Freaky Tai
Music Makes Me High

Music is one of the most intense forms of artistic expression. A good song can tell the story of everything that you're feeling. A great song will do it wordlessly. (Give Ellington & Coltrane's "In a Sentimental Mood" a listen if you don't believe me.) It carries you through the spectrum of human emotion.

I am a musical eclectic: r&b, hip-hop, rock, punk, grunge, you name it, I'll listen to it. (Even a lil bit of country, but don't tell anyone.) If a song can convey an emotion that I feel, or just want to feel (i.e., PM Dawn's "I'd Die Without You"...never felt that way, but damn, doesn't that sound lovely?) I just let it draw me in.

I think we would be a lot more peaceful if we just allowed ourselves a few moments a day to have music wash over us. Lately, that's what I've been doing. Between 9:00 and 10:00, the kids are in bed, the TV goes off and it's me and my music. Whether I want to head bang, cool out, think dirty thoughts or whatever - I just go with the feeling. Letting music soothe me, excite me, inspire me, heal me or just make me come to terms with my own bullshit has really helped me over the past month or so. I guess I'm still learning myself.