Rantings of a Broke Black Woman

I need more money. Newflash right? I'm in the same situation as millions of other people who feel like they aren't making enough money. But seriously, if I ever want to move out of my parents' house, I need more income. I make okay money, but it goes pretty quickly. I usually have a decent amount left over after my bills are paid, but not enough for me to move out on my own and live without struggling.

So I decided I'm going to look for a second job. Sometimes I feel like, damn, I'm exhausted from working one job, how the hell am I going to swing two? At the same time the thought of an additional income is pretty motivating. I figure I can do something a few evenings out of the week and one weekend day. Around 15-20 hours a week. Maybe retail or restaurant hostessing or something like that.

I wish I had enough balls to strip. Strippers make GOOD money. If only I didn't have any integrity. I would get my ass up on stage in 6 inch heels and a g-string and make it clap. *Sigh*

Today's Mood: Reclusive

I'm feeling anti-social today. A couple of coworkers invited me out for drinks after work, but I declined. They weren't going until 7. I get off at 5. Didn't feel like waiting 2 hours for them to get off. They're cool peeps, but shit I see them for 8 hours 5 days a week. I see them more than I see anyone else. I need a break from them.

I just wanted to come home, change into some pajama pants, and do nothing. Is that bad? I feel like being a hermit for the rest of the weekend. The only thing that could break me out of my self-imposed reclusion is a tall chocolate man who is willing and capable of fulfilling my every desire. I'll probably hook up with him sometime later in the weekend.

Part of the reason I feel like being a homebody is because the weather is changing. Its been kind of chilly for the past couple of days. Summer is over just like that. Its becoming time to wear sweaters and boots and to curl up with a blanket with a hot cup of tea. Mmmmm....

"Makin' Sure I Don't Miss Homecoming at Howard..."

Now that I have booked my airline ticket, everything is set for my trip to DC next month. My best friend, my college roommate, and myself are going to Howard's homecoming this year. This will be the second consecutive year that I go. Last year was FABULOUS. Although we didn't partake in any of the actual homecoming festivities, we experienced the city and the nightlife. It was a fantastic experience.

When I tell people about going to HU homecoming, they're like, "You didn't go to Howard, what are you going for?" There's no law that says that alumni are the only ones who can go to homecoming. So many people from different places come to DC during homecoming weekend, its ridiculous. The selection of men is off the chain. Men from up and down the east coast from New England to the south. I love it. East coast men have a whole different flavor than those from the west coast. They are much more forward and straight up. While men from LA tend to want women to jock them and not let us know whether they are interested in us, east coast men let you know straight up whether they're interested in you or not. I find that so refreshing. Playing guessing games is for the birds.

Another thing I like about DC is that there is a large population of black professionals. Black people are pretty sparse for the most part in LA. DC definitely lives up to its name, "Chocolate City." However, it kind of weirded me out that some of the men out there wear suits to the club. Preface: I'm about to sound really "LA" right now, but I thought that was hella country. Save your good suits for church, boo. Don't sweat it out at Love.

I probably won't participate in any of the homecoming festivities this year either. What for? I didn't go to Howard (lol) nor am I in college anymore. But I will be a part of the nightlife scene, and I will be observing and macking up east coast men for the duration of that weekend. Can't wait!

Shock & Awe

Last Saturday night started off just like any other Saturday night where me and my girls were going out. We rolled up to Pearl to celebrate my birthday, looking fly I might add, ready to have a good time. So we're standing in line waiting to get in the club, when my best friend said, "Hey, isn't that [the pseudo]?" I turned and looked. "Yeah, that's him. What is he doing at Pearl? He's like 35! This crowd is way too young for him." People that go to Pearl are usually 21-29. Typically not the spot for the 30 & up. Although I was surprised to see him at Pearl, I wasn't surprised to see him out, because I know he likes to go out a lot. I started to try to catch his attention until I spotted him HOLDING HANDS WITH ANOTHER CHICK. What. The. Fuck?!

Me and my girl saw this at the same time, and we were both like, "OMG! Are they holding hands?" Imagine my shock seeing the man I thought I was dating exclusively for the past 6 1/2 months booed up with a tackhead. Yes, she was busted. She had on a pink satin dress that did nothing for her flabby, nearly middle-aged figure, and she had a busted-ass blonde weave. Just terrible! I think the tackhead was his former wife (or current, who the fuck knows? He told me they divorced but he probably lied) because she looked like the woman I had seen in pictures at his house. My gut just told me that was her. And I mean they were holding hands with the fingers intertwined, like lovers do. I wanted to go over there and say, "Hey, whats up?" So I could bust him out, but you know how it is at the club, especially in LA. You get out of line, you will catch hell from everyone in line and the bouncers if you try to get your spot back. I said, "Fuck that, I'm not about to lose my place in line over this nigga. I'll catch up with his ass later." So when we get inside the club, I looked around for him but I didn't find him. Damn! I was drunk and ready to act an ass! So I sent the bitch a text message which read: "So its like that huh? It's cool." He didn't respond until early the next morning, when he texted (is that a word? Well if it ain't it is today): "No, what do you mean?" In my head I'm thinking, this muthafucka thinks I'm stupid! [Side note: I only use the word "muthafucka" when I am very angry.] I replied, "I saw you holding hands with some chick." Do you think this bitch ass nigga responded to my text? Of course not. He didn't respond, nor did he call, nor did he even have the decency to wish me a happy birthday.

The cold thing about it is that although he played me, I didn't want to be with him anyway, so he made things easier for me. I was planning on cutting him off VERY soon because I felt like the situation wasn't going anywhere. Although I struggled with the choice, I knew in my heart that nothing serious could ever happen between us. He had issues with his former wife (hell, maybe current, who knows because the muthafucka is a liar). He traveled to Toronto once a month to visit her and their children, which although I understood him going to see his children, was not fully okay with me. I didn't want to have to deal with that. I wanted someone who was going to prioritize me, and he just couldn't provide that for me. Overall I just knew he wasn't someone I wanted to be with. I truly believe that things happened according to destiny, and I feel relieved. I no longer have to deal with a 35-year-old-boy-with-a-receding-hairline-and-wears-hats-every-single-day-to-hide-it who has issues with women. I no longer have to deal with a type A, high strung bastard who criticized me for being myself because he was jealous that he didn't have the capability to do the same and who thought he was too fucking good to eat at a chain restaurant. A fucking poser who was so out of touch with himself and everything around him that he didn't know fantasy from reality (he worked in the entertainment business). Someone who is a pretentious asshole and deserves whatever milestones life throws at his bitch ass.

I'm angry, but I'm happy. God removed that excess waste from my life in order to make room for someone good. I'm very thankful that God showed me that he was a waste of time and space in my life. And its not like I didn't have a plan B. C'mon now. The pseudo was a fake boyfriend, not a real one. I was totally dating other people, and thoroughly enjoying it. I wasn't about to waste my time with one man who I was SURE I didn't want to be with. My plan B is hotter, more buff, sexier, has a HUGE dick, he's a champion pussy eater, and he gives me multiple orgasms. [Side Note #2: I wasn't doing plan B at the same time as the pseudo. I'm bad, but not that bad. I haven't been intimate with the pseudo for the past month and I started being intimate with plan B a week and a half ago.]

So it's all good. Everything worked out how it was supposed to.

Birthday Resolutions

I'm 24 today. *Singing Happy Birthday to myself.* Most people make resolutions when the new year begins, but I usually make birthday resolutions. I feel like anytime is a good time to make yourself better.

One of my resolutions is to stop holding grudges against people. Its really not healthy to hold things against people that may have happened years ago. I held a grudge against my college roommate and former friend for several years. She is friends with another friend of mine, so we end up seeing each other and interacting with one another pretty often. She's not necessarily a bad person, but I found myself not wanting to be around her because of things that happened in the past. I'm trying to let go of the grudge, because we have friends in common and it' s inevitable that we will see each other. When I learn how to let go of grudges I can save myself a lot of discomfort.

Another resolution is to stop being so damn impatient. That is probably my biggest weak point. My impatience is the main cause of most of the worry and anxiety I experience. If I can check that my blood pressure would probably go down significantly.

The last resolution (for this birthday. I don't want to take on too much too soon. Baby steps!) is to stop procrastinating so much. I move at my own pace and on my own time and it drives people crazy! I'm usually late for things because I wait until the last minute to do things. I don't like when people rush me and I usually get really annoyed and pissed off when they try to. I would feel a real sense of accomplishment if I could tackle this one.

Of course there are other things about myself that I want to work on, but I'm just going to take it one day at a time. Rome wasn't built in a day. The one thing that all these resolutions have in common is that I'm taking more responsibility for my contribution to my flaws rather than blaming it on external forces. Every day I'm going to strive for improvement. If I backslide a little, hey no one's perfect. Just keep it pushing.

Saturday Morning Thoughts

Legally, a person becomes an adult when they turn 18. But I feel like I'm just now becoming an adult, one week shy of my 24th birthday. And that's only because I have to be responsible for myself. The responsibilities are a lot to handle. Sometimes there are things that I simply do not feel like dealing with. And it always seems like shit is coming up. If it ain't one thing its a mf'ing 'nother.

The state and federal government takes out damn near $400 monthly out of my paycheck. I need some dependents. I thought it was cool that I don't have any kids, but if I did I could get some tax breaks. Buying a home would provide tax breaks, but I can't even afford to pay rent much less buy a house.

My car needs new tires. I want a new car because I'm tired of this one. At the same time I don't want to take on the responsibility and higher insurance rates of a new car.

Relationships are more complicated now. In high school and college it was much simpler. If the guy is cute and nice, he had boyfriend potential. Now its much more complex. Is he a good fit with me? Can we communicate with each other? Is he open and generous? Does he make me happy? Is he adding to my life or detracting from me? Do I even like him or do I just need a stiff dick and some affection every once in awhile?

Ok, done venting. Thank you, god bless and good night.

Booty Call Do's and Dont's

I'm a firm believer that there are certain rules of etiquette to be followed when it comes to booty calls. For example, it is polite to call your booty call prior to going out and let them know that you will be hitting them up after you leave the club. That way when you are drunk and horny at 3 am you won't be pissed because your booty call didn't answer when you called.

Another rule of thumb for booty calls is to get your ass up and leave after the deed is done. I'm not saying that you are just supposed to hop off the D and peace out, but don't linger for more than an hour or so.

A slept on but very pertinent booty call rule: DO NOT DATE YOUR BOOTY CALL. This one is not to be confused with situations such as friends with benefits, who spend time together fully clothed. This rules applies to situations were the relationship is mainly physical. I have to admit that I violated this rule when I was experiencing a dating famine, and I am still dealing with the repercussions.

I should rewind and give a little background on the situation. The year: 2001. I met D during my freshman year in college. I was 19 and he was 23. We met at a poetry reading on campus. We made eye contact and there was an immediate attraction. He was tall, sexy, chocolate, and athletic. Made me absolutely weak. We started seeing each other and eventually our relationship turned into something purely physical. The sex was amazing, but for whatever reason the situation fizzled out after a few months.

Fast forward to 2006. I'm at the Garden of Eden shaking my ass and who do I run into on the dance floor but D? He was looking right too, especially after four Soco & lime shots. He leans over and asks me, "So what are you doing after you leave the club? I would love to spend some time with you." Thoughts of our past dealings quickly flashed through my mind, and I was like "Here's my number. Call me when you leave here." And just like that we hooked up one more time.

Although we only booty called each other again that one time, we ended up having several phone conversations over the next few weeks, during which time D asked me out on a date. I was a little skeptical at first, but at that time I wasn't seeing anyone so I said to myself, "What the hell. Why not?"

It probably wasn't a good idea to go out on a date with D. Some relationships are not to be removed from their original contexts, and that was definitely one of them. His first faux pas was that he wore sweats and a T-shirt to dinner. What part of the game is that? I agree with being casual but you shouldn't look like you are going to the gym on a date. Second faux pas: this negro was cheap as hell! While we were browsing the menu he kept complaining about the prices. Cheap men are NOT sexy. Just tacky. The third and final faux pas was when he tried to stick his tongue down my throat and feel me up in public! Any man I date knows that I prefer to keep the PDAs PG. I'm not about to make out in public.

So, I didn't really enjoy that date. And honestly, I wasn't really even attracted to D anymore. I had planned on keeping him around as my emergency dick in the glass, but since I didn't really like who he was as a person I for damn sure wasn't sleeping with him. And what makes the situation worse is that D constantly calls and texts me wondering why I won't give him the time of day. We haven't hooked up for seven months and he still tries to get me to go out with him again. I suppose he thinks that since we hooked up that one time and we went out that its all good. He still hasn't got the hint quite yet.

So kiddies, what's the moral of the story? If you want to keep your booty call situation as is, don't ruin it by moving the situation out of the bedroom. If it ain't broke don't fix it.

Its A Celebration, Bitch

Today is the first day of September, which officially marks the beginning of the celebration of my birthday. Since I couldn't decide what I wanted to do for my birthday this year, I decided that I am going to celebrate my birthday every weekend of the month of September. Granted, my birthday is on the 17th, smack dab in the middle of the month, but that makes it all the better. Black Girl Interrupted's birthday celebration kicked off this afternoon and will continue until the end of the month. I'm already faded and it ain't even dark yet. And its a three day weekend too? Shit. I'm just taking a hiatus for a few hours before I head back out. Where am I going? Who knows. Wherever life takes me.