Diary of an Angry Black Woman

I am Losing my F****** Mind...

2006-11-20T15:52:00.000-05:00

for a number of reasons. Is it possible for an Angry Black Woman to make it through college, law school, and the bar exam and still have ADHD or ADD? I really, truly believe that I have it. I can not focus on sh**. Those of you who know me can attest to the fact that I have the shortest attention span in the world. This is usually reflected in my coversations with folks, my inability to keep still, and a constant lack of focus (especially at work). Is there any help for me???? Will they give a gal in her late 20s Aderall? If any of my psychology/psychiatry friends are out there, please weigh in on the subject. Otherwise, I think my holistic self will fall into a complete state of chaos.

HIRE ME PLEASE

2006-07-25T17:28:00.000-04:00

As a general rule, I do not blog about anything work related for fear of being discovered, but today the gloves come off. My job is, to put it simply, boring as hell. Who would have thought that being a lawyer could be so dull. There is a conversation that occurs soon after I meet someone:

Stranger: So, what do you?
ABW: I'm a lawyer
Stranger: What kind or what type of law do you practice?
ABW: **thinking the kind that makes me want to jump off a building**

So, you might ask, why don't I just quit. Go do what makes me really happy. Thing is, my dream job is out there, but I don't have the contacts to just break into either representing a sports team or some entertainment client(s) or becoming an agent. I want to work in the industry, and the only think I'm really qualified (by education) to do is to practice law or something similar. Plus, I think that I should be in LA or New York.

SOMEONE OUT THERE HAS THE POWER TO MAKE IT HAPPEN. SOMEONE OUT THERE CAN HIRE ME IN A SPLIT SECOND. GRANTED, YOU DON'T REALLY KNOW ME, I AM A VERY HARD WORKER WHEN THE SUBJECT IS INTERESTING. I AM A STAND UP GAL. HIRE ME PLLLLLLLLLLEASE.

I'M BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

2006-07-24T17:52:00.000-04:00

I have been in a serious slump. No motivation to do anything--work, go out, work out, blog, etc. Since last I blogged I have attended five weddings (in two of which I served as a bridesmaid), two bridal showers, two baby showers, gone to Africa, started dating someone I dated five years ago, and had a facial.

That's just a quick recap on what I've been up to.

Monday's funny: Today I took off my jacket when I went out to lunch because it was so hot. I had on a silk blouse which really fit my ample bosom. As I returned to work, I passed this little boy who could not have been more than 11. The boy starts singing, "my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard." I wanted to choke his little a--.

Deeeeeeeeeeetroit

2006-01-31T16:47:00.000-05:00

It's been two weeks since my last entry. That is a testament to the fact that nothing has gone on in my life. Well, that's not completely true.... I have been working my a#$ off for the past few years, excuse me, weeks and seeing a boy on the weekends. That's it. I will not tell you about him because of the ABW jinx. Everytime I mention a boy, something BAD happens. I will let a little time pass.

I will, however, take this time to comment on the Boondocks. If you're not watching Adult Swim, you're so lame. Go get some cable. I have to admit I was late to the game because after Grey's Anatomy, I would go back to doin my own thing. Anywho, Aaron McGruder and Co. push the envelope much like Dave Chappelle did before "our" concerned leadership/famous people began to make a fuss. That's what I heard anyway. The last new episode was entitled, "The Itis." You all know what that means! Little Riley and Huey (Regina King) are very funny, as is their grandpa (John Witherspoon). Check it out on Sunday nights at 11:00 pm (or TiVo if you're early to bed).

Alas, I will be leaving for Motown, Motor City on Thursday. No, I don't have tickets to the game. I just know some people who are throwing some major parties and some childhood friends, whose brother is playing in the Big Game. It should be fun. In keeping with my unwritten resolution to have LOTS of fun in '06, I plan to party hard (or as these DC natives say, "potty" hard). LOL. Because I have read so many news articles and seen so many stories about the urban blight in Detroit, I plan to go do some exploring around the city and form my own opinions.

I'll holla.

BEAR at BP

2006-01-17T17:41:00.000-05:00

I woke up hungry on Saturday morning, and the fat girl within was craving an egg and cheese biscuit from McDonald’s (sorry to be politically incorrect). So, I hurriedly took a shower and threw on my Redskins jersey (you guys put up a good fight) and rushed out to beat the 11:00 end-of-breakfast at McD’s (a la Big Daddy-the movie). So, of course, my car was way past “E.” I had to go get the biscuit first because breakfast would be ending soon, and what would I do if I didn’t get that biscuit? Alas, I arrived at McDonald’s, and they had already changed over the pictures of big macs and double quarter pounders with cheese. In a panic, I walked up to the counter and asked if they had any breakfast sandwiches left. And thank goodness they did (along with hash browns). So, I was satisfied and drove across the street to the BP to get a little petro.

As I was getting out of my car, I see a truck pull up on the other side with the word “BEAR” on the license plate. I laughed at that and went on about getting some gas. So, Bear hops out of the truck and says “damn” in the long drawn out way that guys do when a girl passes by. He couldn’t have been referring to me with my wet hair and looking totally busted in my Clinton Portis jersey—all thrown together in 10 minutes to get to McDonald’s before 11:00. Mr. Bear (and I say Mr. because he was at least old enough to be my father) then said, “Tell him, he’s a very lucky guy.” I was tempted to say, “there is no him, but I’m looking for a sugar daddy if you’re interested.” Of course, I didn’t say it. I said “there is no HIM, but thank you.” I proceeded to finish pumping my gas and walked into the store to get some orange juice to go with my biscuit. The older man then walks in the store as well. This is the conversation that followed:

Old Guy: “Name’s Bear.”
ABW: Oh, nice to meet you, but what’s your real name?”
Bear: “Jimmy.”
ABW: “I’m ABW.”
Bear: *handing ABW a little perfume sample* “Here’s some of that dolce and gabana perfume.”
ABW: *totally laughin’ on the inside* “Thank you.”
Bear: *handing ABW a post it* “And here’s my number. I’m out of cards. Use it”
ABW: silently thinking-- “Which card is that? Your AARP card?”

Why am I a buster magnet???

IN 2006, ABW RESOLVES TO…

2006-01-03T18:15:00.000-05:00

1. Be more of an optimist

2. Be more selfless

3. Lose weight

4. Exercise at least four times a weeks

5. Learn Italian and/or French

6. Visit Italy, Spain, or Greece

7. Have a significant career success

8. Be more organized

9. Be more proactive

10. Be more reflective

"Love That Chicken from Popeye's" & Black Santa

2005-12-20T13:23:00.001-05:00

Truer words have never been spoken. I have to give you the background for you to fully appreciate the statement. I ventured out on Saturday to begin my Christmas shopping. The closest mall is the Mall at Prince George's, formerly known as PG Plaza. If you don't live in the DC area, PG Plaza is located in a predominately Black and Hispanic area in Hyattsville, MD. There are a number of urban wear shops in addition to your basic, JC Penny, Old Navy, Hecht's, and most recently a Target.

So, I'm there gettin my shop on for about 4 hours when I realize that I have not eaten. So, I walk over to the food court and look around for the shortest line. I immediately spot the Popeye's line winding around and down the food court. I had to laugh despite how I feel about that jingle being one of the most patronizing things I've heard in a while.

I also had to laugh at the long line of parents and kids waiting to have a picture taken with the Black Santa. I don't think I've ever seen a Black Santa in a mall.

To the person who continues to comment about my references to race, please don't read if you're offended. I have the right to blog about my experiences as a Black person in America if I choose (that little thing called the First Amendment permits it). You are not in a position to tell me anything. Thanks.

The Emancipation of 'Meme'

2005-12-15T14:20:00.000-05:00

Oh, I 've been tagged by Will to do a "meme". So, here it goes:

Write 5 random facts about yourself, and then list the names of 5 people you want to tag:

1. I discovered my father was a Black Panther when I noticed an earring hole in his ear. I asked if he had every killed anyone like a dummy. Of course, he said he only handed out flyers.

2. I wet the bed every Christmas Eve until I was about 10 (don't tell anyone). I guess I was afraid if I used it, Santa would see me and throw pepper in my eyes *LMAO*

3. I wanted to be a doctor back in the day ('til that organic chemistry attacked me) and I came to the realization that I am not good at everything.

4. I want three children, and I have picked out their names (all begin with the letter "A").

5. I crave attention. I made good grades in school and excelled in activities for no other reason than to get my name and/or picture in the newspaper or to have my name called out at awards banquets or in church.

Five People to TAG:

Miss Ali
Joy
Princess Dominique
Mind Rhythms
Sid

"On & On & Ya Don't Stop..."

2005-12-13T21:03:00.000-05:00

Last weekend was as comical as any other in the life of ABW. It started on Friday with my firm's holiday party. Of course, I told Cord Boy that he didn't have to attend, as I would only be there for a short while, and I didn't feel like dealing with his ass. So, he said cool. When I walked in, I was immediately feeling like an idiot (mainly because of my lack of a date). So, I made a beeline to the bar. The wine is my friend. I then spotted my adopted big brother/colleague (one of the other few of color) and his wife. I mingled with the other associates with whom I chat on a regular basis, and then I grew bored of them (as I usually do).

So, as I was looking around the room, I spot a lady from HR walk in with her date--a tall, seemingly handsome dude. **hmmm, he's cute** I turned away, but when I turned around again, I saw his face. The face of one of my old boos, Dr. P (you remember the story: if not click and laugh). I immediately ran to big bro./colleague to tell him about this drama. He laughed his ass off, and then we (he, his wife, and I) headed to the buffet. I then discovered that we would be sitting with Dr. P and Ms. HR. Great. I am already self-conscious because I'm dateless. So, I take the bull by the horns and sit down next to him at the table **Hey, P. How are ya?** Come to find out he did a fellowship up north and moved back to DC. Been dating Ms. HR for a year and a half. I actually fantasized about becoming Dr. & Mrs. P. Oh, well. We ate and conversed. **how long have you been with the firm?** Not long enough for us to have run into each other at a firm function, obviously. I felt like Florida Evans. **damn, damn, damn**

We took our little group to the upstairs bar where Dr. P and I talked off to the side. I jumped back when Ms. HR came along. I hope he doesn't tell her we dated. That would make things awkward at work. I eventually pulled big bro/colleague's wife onto the dance floor because I didn't have anyone else to dance with (while trying to avoid the mail room guy who wanted me to take one of the professional couple photos with the background and all). I left not too long after. I didn't sleep well that night for some reason. LOL!

Next day: My little fiesta de la casa. I was excited about my party, and it turned out to be a huge success. I even managed to not be over-served. That was the goal considering how I had to manage a couple of current man friends and a couple of ex man friends. Everything worked out okay. My friends confirmed that Young 'un is a total weirdo, although he's still sweet. I had about 75 people in and out of the house. It was a hit. Maybe I should throw parties for a living. Problem is I hate planning. So, that's proably not a good idea.

Tonight's Agenda: Holiday Party with various Black alumni and professional groups. Please, Lord, let my husband introduce or re-introduce himself tonight. Amen.

OK, OK...I'M BACK

2005-12-06T17:07:00.000-05:00

So, I fell off the face of the earth. Did you miss me? I've been at war with myself for the past few weeks. Actually, I think I had writer's block. Truthfully, nothing has been going on with me, so I've been without material. Now, guess who's back in the mutha-friggin house?

Well, let's see. Thanksgiving was BORING as hell. I went home to Small Town, NC and saw mi familia. That and the fried turkey were good, but that's where the fun ends. I was depressed. I didn't even have the energy to go the the hole-in-the-wall club with the plywood floor and $2 drinks. I heard everyone (who never left and those visiting home) was there. My LC got a new car because the Red Rocket, formerly owned by yours truly, finally put her down. I saw my soror's adorable baby boy, and that's it!!! I woke up at 7:00 am on Sunday after Thanskgiving, jumped in Remy Red, and raced back to DC.

The past few weeks have been non-eventful. There is a guy I see, but I refuse to say anything about him to anyone for fear that I might jinx myself. I am, however, taking Cord Boy to my office holiday party on Friday. That should be funny, since I have not seen him in over a month. And every time I see him, he's brown baggin' some Crown. Last week he called after going to 1223, and I swear he was slurring his words. He might need a 12-step program. (LMAO)

I am also having a holiday party at my house this weekend. It should be fun. It should also be interesting to see if the 50 people who have RSVP'd actually fit into my cozy lil rowhouse. Hopefully, I won't be too over-served an hour into the thing like last year! I hired a bartender, so I don't have to try to serve the booze!

15th & P

2005-11-17T11:31:00.000-05:00

As I drove into work yesterday morning, I decided to take a short cut, which was not really short at all. As approached the light at the intersection of 15th & P NW, I noticed a large group of Hispanic men gathered outside of McCormick Paints. I presume the guys were day laborers waiting for someone, anyone to select them--hopeful for a job. Some were laughing and joking; others were leaning against the paint shop wall with looks of antagonism on their faces. In the middle of all of them was an earthy-looking lady. She was engaged in conversation with a few guys. She may have been looking for painters. Or perhaps she was some type of social reformer trying to secure jobs with benefits for the men. One can only assume.

As I drove on this glorious 70º November morning, the sun beamed down through my sunroof onto my face, and I breathed in the "fresh" air. In that moment, I was thankful that I was about to go sit in my slightly messy office for the next ten or so hours. In that moment, I also had the strangest feeling of guilt. I suppose I was guilty because, at times, I am not grateful enough that there is a place for me. It's so easy to get caught up in the hype, especially in DC. It's only a step down from NY and LA in terms of people being hollow and superficial (sorry for the generalization).

Lesson to ABW (and anyone else who cares): Whenever you're caught up in everything you don't have or everything that someone else has, take a drive by 15th & P one morning. You will realize there is a lot for which to be thankful.

Goldilocks Syndrome --Waiting on Just Right

2005-11-08T21:53:00.000-05:00

We all know the story of Goldilocks -- the little girl who broke into the Three Bears' house and pilfered through all of their treasured possessions until she found porridge, a chair, and a bed that were "just right." Most recently, Goldilocks stepped it up a notch and stole Baby Bear's H3 Hummer.

Well, I have reasoned that I am a lot like Goldilocks (sans the hair--except on Halloween when I broke out the broke down Beyonce blond wig). I am not satisfied until I find or get what is just right. As a child, my mommy always said, "[Angry Black Girl], you're never satisfied. You should change your name to 'I want.'" I always thought my mama was being a little harsh, but maybe she was right. Or maybe I have discerning taste. I dunno. Some would argue to the contrary (Roy Campanella--not the Dodger you know--my own).

I have applied the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears to my love life. Some of my most recent criticisms include the following:

Too far away (distance is a b**tch)

Too short (i'm a magnet for men in the 5'7"-5'9" height range) ***

Too heavy (although I could stand to lose 10 pounds myself)

Too skinny

Too immature

Too young***

Too much of a ladies' man***

Too much dental work required

Too inconsistent

Too much halitosis

Too feminine

Too much talking with hands and batting eyelashes (see above)

Too unaware (of issues affecting us, the race, the nation, the world)

Too recently broken up or divorced

Too much baby mama drama

Too arrogant, stuck-up, or cocky

Too sanctimonious

Too broke (this is not really a frequent occurrence but.. once in a while)

Too miserly

Too slow ( i don't really like to call people dumb)

Too complacent

Too little ambition

***denotes the type of man I meet most

I am not perfect--no where near close to being perfect, but I don't think I should just settle. I also realize that guys are not perfect. And I often overlook the physical if he is just a nice guy. I have settled PLENTY of times when I knew I probably shouldn't have. I have TONS of issues, trust. Maybe that's why I'm single. Maybe I have too many hang-ups. At times, I just can't get past some the above-mentioned qualities/characteristics. Maybe the men I date or who are attracted to me have similar hang-ups about me. Maybe I just need to get over it.

R-E...R-E-B...R-E-B-O-U-N-D (GET IT)

2005-11-04T23:50:00.000-05:00

This was a cheer we did in high school. For those of you who are basketball challenged. A rebound is the act of jumping up to get the ball when a shot has been missed. There are offensive rebounds (where you or your teammate miss a shot and you go up to grab it to shoot or set up a play) or defensive rebounds (when the other team misses, you go for the ball to take it back to your end of the court).

OR

It could also mean getting out of (coming down from) a relationship or situation and following it up with another.

Wednesday at an alumni happy hour of DC’s young, Black bourgeois, I ran into Mystique (as in Morehouse). He is a mutual acquaintance. We have run into each three times before. I had previously asked a mutual friend for the 4-1-1 only to be informed that Mystique “has a girlfriend or fiancé or something like that.” Oh, well. I’m not a home-wrecker, so I thought, that’s that.

Wednesday, Mystique was, how shall I say, all in my grill smilin’ etc. We chatted and said that we (the collective group of us who know each other) should do lunch. Fast forward. Mystique invited me to lunch yesterday, and because free lunch was a better option than the frozen entrée I brought to work, I accepted. Well, that’ s not totally accurate. I guess I accepted because, although we have mutual acquaintances, he only invited yours truly. So, I asked myself, what does Mystique want from me. Based on hearsay, here is what I know of Mystique; he and his girlfriend/fiancé are/were on shaky ground. Okay. Why does he want to “make friends” with me? I think I have ENOUGH platonic male friends. He was sooo complimentary during lunch -- about my suit, my jewelry, my southern accent, my dimples, my smile, my hair. In that moment, I wanted to take him to the courthouse to get a license! J/K

Well, last night, after I attended the Southern Center for Human Rights Frederick Douglass Awards Dinner where Wilbert Rideau received the human rights award, I met Mystique for a second "date." 2X in one day. Somebody is pressed?

This time we had dinner/drinks. Since I had eaten, I only had drinks. We talked until midnight about various "stuff." Are you together? He did not want to talk about the Ex but said things were pretty much done. He put in his bid for another date TBD.

I'm just confused. Why is he tryna talk to me?? Shouldn't I just chalk it up as an "L?" You don't date someone for 3 years and jump into something the next day. I think that would qualify me for the Fred Sanford "You Big Dummy" Award. Hell, I've been nominated several times. You would think I've learned.

Hooters & Revelations

2005-10-28T14:09:00.000-04:00

As I sat at my house last night watching my tiVo'd soaps, I received a call from NYC. He invited me to grab a late dinner with him. That was cool because I am always down for Cafe Asia. I was dragging, so by the time we arrived downtown, it was almost 11:00. The only establishment that we could find serving food at that hour was Hooters in Chinatown. I think my arteries began to clog just by looking at the deep fried items on the menu. I had a Mountain Dew simply because I was getting sleepy but declined NYC's repeated attempts to get me to order food. NYC ordered a beer and some chicken wings, while making sarcastic comments about absolutely everything and everybody.

NYC continued to make smart comments about me and our Hooter girl, and I began to focus on Sports Center and The Best Damn Sports Show, which were being shown on the various tvs.
Joe Montana and Jerry Rice were on TBDSS. I am sooo glad that Jerry Rice finally let the last vestiges of his cornrows go. They were barely hanging on, and he needed to just get over having hair.

I had an epiphany as I sat there with NYC. I silently thought, "Why have I been so enthralled with you for the past year?" I could only come up with one thing. He is very charismatic. Charisma goes a long way with me, but he is also sarcastic and slightly condescending.

Then again, maybe I'm conjuring up an oft-utilized defense mechanism. I've seen it time and time again. You know how it goes. The guy is not interested in the girl or loses interest, so the girl says, "well, he is/was ________ anyway." (Fill in the blank with something like "gay, too short, a deadbeat, a player, not a good lover, not upwardly mobile, etc.) I've personally said to my girlfriends that NYC is a player and not husband material, so I didn't need him anyway. Fact is, he just wasn't interested in a relationship with me for whatever reason, which doesn't make him a bad person necessarily. I had to justify his lack of interest. It's easy to think that we are SO perfect, and a man would be a fool to not want to be with us. I get that. I've been there.

I guess, as I sat in Hooters looking at NYC and at Jerry Rice’s shaved head, I began to realize the truth in what Jill Scott said best, "Everything ain't for everybody. But I tried anyway."

About Me -- In Case You Actually Care

2005-10-25T08:25:00.000-04:00

I stole it from Joy.

1. Name someone with the same birthday as you.
Aleshia. We were actually born in the same hospital.

2. Where was your first kiss?
At the movies. Was it Boyz N the Hood?

3. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone else's property?
Nope, although I've fantasized about throwing a brick through some dudes' car windows. I would never follow through with it.

4. Have you ever hit someone of the opposite sex?
Yes, but not with angry intentions.

5. Have you ever sung in front of a large number of people?
At church, they made me do it. Who could ever forget my rendition of "God Is?"

6. What's the first thing you notice about the preferred sex?
The smile--teeth in particular.

7. What do you order at the Coffee Bean?
Skim iced latte

8. What is your biggest mistake?
Maybe moving to DC??? Don't get me wrong, I love da District, but I cant' help but imagine what my life would be like if had stayed in the Dirty, Dirty.

9. Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose?
No, of course not.

10. Say something totally random about yourself.
I wish I were a writer on a television show.

11. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
Does Eve count as a celebrity? If so, then yes. I don't see it, but I wish I had her body.

12. Do you still watch kiddy movies or tv shows?
Not really.

13. Did you have braces?
No. Thanks to my mom getting my gap closed and a spacer (I know that was TMI), my teeth have always been straight. I, did put foil on my teeth to pretend I had braces when I was younger! You know you did it too.

14. Are you comfortable with your height?
5'5" is a good height, but I wish I was a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller.

15. What is the most romantic thing someone of the opposite sex has done for you?
I dunno. It has been a long time since anyone has done anything romantic for me. :-(

16. When do you know it's love?
When you decide it's love.

17. Do you speak any other languages?
Spanish. I guess I'm slightly proficient.

18. Have you ever been to a tanning salon?
Hell, naw. Type of sh** is that?

19. What magazines do you read?
Time, Newsweek, Cosmo, Black Enterprise, Essence, Lucky

20. Have you ever ridden in a limo?
Lots of times. I think my most recent experience was the stretch Navigator for a bachelorette party. That was a wild one!

21. Has anyone you were really close to passed away?
Unfortunately, yes.

22. Do you watch MTV?
All the time. Does that make me shallow and immature? I love Laguna Beach, Making the Band, Made, TRL, Real World (on occasion) and that Nick Cannon Show where they battle each other.

23. What's something that really annoys you?
Self-Promoters. Those are people who think they are perfect and talk about themselves incessantly.

24. What's something you really like?
Television and movies. I can't live without TV!!!

25. Do you like Michael Jackson?
I think he's a little loco.

26. Can you dance?
Like a champ.

27. What's the latest you have ever stayed up?
7:00 a.m, excluding the all nighters I pulled in college for exams.

28. Have you ever been rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room?
Once, I think. For a little fender bender in high school.

29. Do you actually read these when other people fill them out?
Yes, I like to know what people are thinking.

State of the Union

2005-10-17T01:38:00.000-04:00

“Where You At?”

While I sometimes fall off with bad grammar, I am a strong proponent of proper grammar. I had to essentially teach it to myself, and I am diligent in trying to speak correctly (except when speaking in a really intimate setting with friends). All of that ranting leads me to the current Boost Mobile commercials. Boost Mobile is really pissing me off with this pivitol moments ad campaign. In these commercials, you see what Fat Joe would have done with his life but for his friend “chirping” him on BM’s walkie-talkie phones to get him to attend a show. Fat Joe would have been relegated to working as an animal psychologist and driving a hooptie instead of a Bentley. Eve would have pursued a career in dance and ended up as a tough ballet teacher (although their fact checker missed something here – we all know she did have a career in dance and probably would have been “dancin’ for dollas” and not teaching ballet). My business smarts are very limited. I did, however, take a class or two that covered marketing and target markets, etc. We all know who is targeted with the “where you at” ads. Or do we? Is BM targeting the hip-hop generation? Or Black people? Or people with very limited lexicons? Are hip-hop, Black culture, and proper grammar mutually exclusive? Why would Boost Mobile send a message to my people in particular that speaking like that is glamourous? Don't we have enough of that in hip-hop?

Food Stamp T-Shirts

This past weekend, I went home to the “Dirty, Dirty.” My mom, two cousins, and I ventured to the flea market mall in Fayette-Nam. My little cousin requested an “Usher shirt," so I was happy to oblige him for $20 in the flea market mall. We walked into one of the shops, and I see the dumbest sh** ever. The "throwback money" and “$65 for $55” t-shirts, which post a picture of the old food-stamp coupons issued before they began using the EBT cards. The one t-shirt was making reference to the idea of selling $65 worth of food stamps for $55. I have to admit that I did not know they no longer used coupons until last summer when I went down to the wharf (sea food market) in SW DC to get some crabs. I noticed a lot of people handing over these debit card-looking things. I was curious enough to ask the attendant if it was some sort of coupon. He smirked and politely told me that they were EBT cards – the modern day food stamp. I was embarrassed, needless to say. I was only recently made aware of the practice of people selling food stamps for cash – not a novel idea, but I never really thought about it. The t-shirt has to be one of the most ignorant things I’ve ever seen, although I had to laugh when I saw it. Why would people glorify food stamps? Sigh.

Also of note, is the “Stop Snitchin” t-shirt. "They" defend these shirts by crying freedom of expression not freedom of intimidation. Someone who attended the Millions More march (see below) in DC this past weekend noted that a vendor at the march was selling these. Double Sigh.

Millions More (Blah, Blah, Blah)

Since I was in the dirty this past weekend, I totally missed the march/movement. I returned to DC on Sunday night, and the news lead-in was quite disturbing and very ironic. There were four or five murders in DC this past weekend. Sigh.

R.I.P

I have been fortunate to not lose any of my childhood or close adult friends until now. I was awakened at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday morning while sleeping soundly at my mommy's house-the place where I feel most safe and most loved. One of my childhood friends was crying and could barely relay her message. She finally told me what I have always dreaded hearing--one of my childhood friends was killed in a motorcycle accident around 2:00 am Saturday morning. I hate motorcycles.

Big Mick, as we called him, has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. We went to school together from nursery school through high school, and he picked on me incessantly. He and his sister had a guest house where they threw the best parties. Mick was like a big teddy bear. Big Mick, we will never forget you.

RANT, RANT, RANT

2005-10-05T20:03:00.000-04:00

Bold Carwash Boy

On Saturday, I took Remy Red to Mr. Wash for some much needed TLC. I stood in line to pay behind a tall blond dude. Let’s call him Chip, because he looked like a chip. Chip handed the attendant (a sista) his AMEX to pay for his car wash. Apparently, Chip’s card would not swipe because it took the attendant a second to key in the numbers on his card. She apologized to him for taking a minute to key in the numbers, to which he responded, “and that was really difficult for you.” At this point, I wanted to go upside his head, but I am trying to better manage my anger.

White Tees & Drycleaners

On Saturday, I was in the beauty/barber shop awaiting my turn when a guy walks in with some dry cleaning. I inquired if the cleaners across the street was less expensive than the one down a few blocks, and he indicated it was. Not long after, the barber commented on how he had never seen so many young people putting t-shirts in the cleaners. I took a closer look only to see that the guy had about 7 t-shirts in the plastic. And I thought I left the country (where folks were notorious for dry cleaning jeans)! I also have to note that I know someone who put a sweat suit in the cleaners, albeit one from "Shooters Sports" -- the urban-wear brand. Madness!!!!

Fantasia

I would be remiss if I did not offer some commentary on Ms. Barrino’s recently-revealed illiteracy. I have to preface my comments by saying that I am happy she’s now taking initiative to learn to read. I watched her interviews on Good Morning America and 20/20, and I feel very sorry for her. I also read an excerpt from her book “Life is Not a Fairy Tale.” She apparently memorized unfamiliar songs on ‘Idol’ and also revealed that before her ‘Idol’ stardom, she NEVER had a job. I love your music, but come on, Fantasia. I even busted my butt at the local Dairy Queen.

The statistics indicate that 1 in 5 Americans is illiterate. I would like to know what the rate is among those 18-30. She is 21, not 81 – she obviously did not have to choose between school and work because she never worked. Most striking was Fantasia’s comment that when she was younger, she felt that because she had singing talent, education was not important. For this, she gets two thumbs down. It would be one thing if she had a learning disability, but she admitted she just didn’t care.

Fantasia disclosed that her mother has had problems reading. She also seemed to imply that growing up in a small working-class town in NC is an excuse for illiteracy. I, like Fantasia, grew up in a small, working-class town in NC (Nof’ Cack-a-Lack) with working class parents. I did not have the most access in the world, either, but that does not mean I say oh, well. It is true that less than 80% of NC adults have a high school diploma. It’s not shocking she made it all the way to 9th grade, without knowing how to read.

Undoubtedly, there are many others out there –rappers, athletes, and entertainment moguls of our generation. There is no excuse for them either.

Cliff & Claire Huxtable

2005-09-30T08:11:00.000-04:00

When I was a little girl, I wanted to live in a nice brownstone in NY with my brother and sisters; to have a back stairwell leading up to the second floor. I wanted to have funny and loving grandparents, who could sing, and I wanted to get bounced around on my dad's knee for horsy. I wanted to grow up and have a boyfriend as cute as Ro-Robert. I wanted to go off to Hillman college and live in the dorm and have friends like Dwayne Wayne.

My previous post about Dr. Heart and the Cliff and Claire Huxtable fantasy brought back memories of the potential Cliffs I've gone out with. Upon reflection, they were all pretty damn funny:

Dr. Love: internal medicine resident -- met at a graduation party when I was a senior in college, and he was a first year med student. I had planned to go out of state to law school, but ended up staying in state for school at the last minute. Dr. Love and I became great friends and lived down the street from one another. I loved his dry sarcasm and wit. We had a blast together. He loved his family and was from a town neighboring my hometown. I even met his mommy. Dr. Love loved to throw parties. He always had a barbeque or fight party or super bowl party or something. That might be why it took him so damn long to graduate from med school. LOL! Dr. Love’s fatal flaw was that he loved the ladies, and although our relationship went on and off for years—it fizzled in the end when he decided to settle down with a girlfriend—not me. Too bad for Dr. Love she turned out to be nut-so, coo-coo, crazy (and I mean ‘Thin Line’ crazy). I recently saw him, and he has not changed much.

Dr. Sweet: OB/GYN -- met at a tapas restaurant. He was with a female friend, and I was with a guy friend. We sat next to each other. Dr. Sweet struck up conversation, and we all exchanged info b/c Sweet wanted us to participate in some program. I called him to get details, and he ended up asking me out on a date. Sweet was from the west coast, loud, very over the top (some would say flamboyant :-)). We dated. DC dining, cultural things, etc. I took him to my holiday party at work. He was a hit. Dr. Sweet was a little too over the top. I could not take it, so I pulled away a little. Dr. Sweet knew I loved Melting Pot, so he bought me a fancy fondue set for Christmas. That sh** is still in the box, but hey, I might make fondue this weekend. He moved away to go into practice. He called a few months ago. He has a girlfriend.

Dr. P: radiology resident – met at a party. I was with a guy friend, who knew P. He was about 6’6”and had played b-ball in college. Oooh, athletic and smart. Hung out with P a bit, but he had ex girlfriend drama. This biatch actually used her old key to P’s place and came on in while we were there hanging out. Talk about uncomfie. I thought she might try to fight me, but she didn’t. She just gave me the look of death and never said a word to me. Too much drama! She actually had a friend, who I dated before (see below). I lost touch with P, but my friend told me she saw him a couple of weeks ago. I thought he moved.

Alas, I could not forget about Dr. Big. Dr. Big is actually a dentist. I met Dr. Big in the summer of 1998, when I had an internship in DC. My cousin and her other friends forced me to go to “Ques in the Kitchen” with them. This event was basically a party at the grad chapter’s frat house, where the Ques cooked. Everything was going along fine when Dr. Big asked if his big a** could share a seat with me. I scooted over a little, and he tried to sit but I ended up falling out the chair! I, at 20 years old, was not very embarrassed. I basically laughed MAO. This started the hilarious song and dance spanning five years between Dr. Big and me. When I eventually moved to DC, Dr. Big was finishing his residency before going off to Japan. After a while, we were simply friends. One day, he called me to say randomly that he had a friend from dental school who walked in on her ex and a girl named __________. DC is a small town. Dr. Big and I e-mail on occasion.

As you can see, these docs were no Cliffs. Maybe, I'll just be Claire sans Cliff.

OLD SKOOL

2005-09-26T03:55:00.000-04:00

This past weekend I ventured out for some “networking” at a party/reception sponsored by ΚΑΨ for the Congressional Black Caucus. I walked into the Renaissance Hotel and immediately realized that showing up was a mistake. I should have stayed at home and watched the Laguna Beach episode I TiVoed earlier in the week.

The average age of the men at this party was pretty damn old. I could not get past the rayon shirts we wore in 8th grade! To their credit, most of the men did have on suits. Some of the old men were with age-appropriate women. I found this endearing. Hopefully, I will go out and party with my husband when we are in our 50s. The other old men were trying to talk to younger women, and I mean really hard. I declined all invitations to engage in these conversations.

I was introduced to an age-appropriate guy by one of my friends. Let’s call him Dr. Heart. Dr. Heart and I talked and danced for a while. He was tall, dark, handsome, and seemed to be what some would describe as a good catch. I quickly lost interest when we all were talking and he had not heard the song “Golddigga” by Kanye and Jaime Foxx. I know, I know. I am a complete c-head for discrediting a brotha on the basis that he is not up on his hip-hop. But you are reading the innermost thoughts of a young lady who bumps Young Jezzy, Lil Webbie, Paul Wall, Pimp C, and other Crunk music all the way to within 1 block of her job, and who then turns it down very low or rolls up her windows and closes the sunroof!

Anyway, I digress. At this point, I wasn’t quite as interested. He would obviously think I’m immature after more conversation (and I am—somewhat). Oh well, no luck fulfilling my Cliff and Claire Huxtable fantasy there. When he, his friend, and my friend left, my friend had my cell phone in her purse. I quickly called it, and she sent Dr. Heart back to the party with my phone. When he returned, I was talking to my cousin’s husband (sans my cousin). Dr. Heart hesitated as if he wanted to talk, but I thanked him and turned back to talking to cousin’s husband (sans cousin). End of story.

What else? The Kappas (as old as they were) decided to make that little sound they always do at parties…Wooo. Wooo. Wooo. Wooo. Another Kappa jumps on the mike, starts rapping and giving shouts out. I find myself, along with numerous other members of my sorority making the familiar, but unofficial, sorority call, I learned in college. I thought, “am I too old to do this ish at a party?” Answer: hell, yeah. I have to say, I have not done that in a long time, especially at a party. Nonetheless, I, like Usher, was so caught up, and so were these old a** Kappas. In the words of a very famous rapper, “Drink some prune juice, and let that s*** go.”

Adding complete insult to injury, NYC showed his face. NYC and I previously dated. I have often said he is my dream guy, but that’s probably not true. He is friends with my friends, so I can’t completely cut the ties—nor do I want to. Slightly buzzed, I was smiley and giddy in his face, and he was sarcastic as usual. I got mad and soon left. They all continued on to the next spot.

I drunk dialed my sorority sister on the way home to talk about my crappy evening (Note to self: do not drunk dial married friends in the middle of the night. They are probably asleep and will think there is a real emergency). Luckily, I did not wake her up. I’m definitely too old for all of this.

Dance With My Father Again...

2005-09-23T08:54:00.000-04:00

Dear Daddy,

Today you would have been 67! I wish you were here because I would call you and tell you that you’re an old man, but I love you still the same. I can hardly believe that it’s been over 7 years since you left us. It seems just like yesterday when I was 7 and you were letting me drive on your lap and later teaching me how to drive a stick-shift. I was probably the only 14 year old who could do so! And how could I forget when you bought me that red Cavalier!

I wish you were here to see the woman that I’ve become and am still becoming. I wish you could have been here to attend my graduations, to share in my thrill and relief of having passed the bar exam, and to give me away when I eventually get married.

Mother and Auntie tell me that I am just like you for the world. I never meet a stranger and don’t know what it is to be shy. I guess you taught me how to be a people person because everyone knew and loved you. I suppose I also have your mean streak, which comes out on occasion—not too often, but it can be fierce.

I wish I could have shared more years with you as an adult. There have been plenty of times when I needed you. Like when I bought my first house and needed fatherly advice that it was sound or when I just wanted to be a daddy’s girl like I was before or when I’ve wondered if I’ll ever get married and why my heart has been broken. When I go home and go to church, I half expect to see you singing “We are Soldiers in the Army” with the men’s choir.

I’m sure you’re happy that the siblings and I are talking more frequently. For a while, it seemed like we were only getting together for funerals. Yours in 1998 and Auntie’s in 2003. Before we saw each other this past June, those were the last two times we had all been together. I guess we all inherited the selfish-gene from you. Nonetheless, we’re making progress.

I owe you so much. Thank you for life and for helping Mother make me who I am today – for teaching me my colors, numbers, and how to read; for watching “Frog Hollow” with me; for making me fried eggs; for throwing me in the lake to teach me how to swim; for teaching me how to tend a garden and shuck corn; for teaching me how to always waive and speak to people I pass by or encounter; for teaching me how to drive (and letting me drive your car to the lake before I got my license); for giving me three sisters and a brother; and for giving me a sense of humor and a sense of who I am.

I’ll carry you around with me, forever. Happy Birthday, Daddy.

ONLY IN DC...

2005-09-19T01:26:00.000-04:00

I have compiled a short list of things that are germane to the DC area (err-re-ah). And I have experienced all of them. Those of you who live or have lived in the area know what I'm saying.

1. Only in DC does the DMV give you mismatched license plates for the front and back of your car. Mine were one number off (Plus they have air brushed artwork in the DMV).

2. Only in DC do you see and hear a homeless woman giving a McDononald's breakfast away to another homeless person, because she does not eat pancakes.

3. Only in DC do you hear continuous R&B and hip-hop in the Giant (grocery store).

4. Only in DC does an older Black woman in the Giant (who could be your auntie or grandma) suggest you try out for American Idol.

5. Only in DC does the word marry rhyme with the word hurry.

6. Only in DC do you go to the quick mart around midnight to replinish ice for your party and the store clerk will only put it in the metal drawer and slide it out to you -- will not let you in as non-threatening as you look in the store.

7. Only in DC are all of the mail carriers and other postal workers Black.

8. Only in DC can you go into Outback Steakhouse and not see one White person (and it's the only place in DC with sweet tea).

9. Only in DC does every sentence end with "joe" (e.g. What's up, joe) -- a substitute for "yo."

10. Only in DC is "mambo sauce" a requirement with all chicken ordered from a carry-out (what in the hell is in mambo sauce, anyway).

"MOST OF MY FRIENDS ARE WHITE"

2005-09-13T08:30:00.000-04:00

I managed to have two dates this past weekend, and see Young1 every day (he helped me with yard work). So sweet.

On Friday night, I met So Fine (previously known as Cord Boy) for drinks. He wore a navy blazer with a striped shirt, jeans, and some sneaks with a blue stripe. Very Kanye/Usher (not to seem shallow, but I love a well dressed guy). He must have complimented me like 100 times, and the narcissist that I am, loved every single minute of it. So Fine is going to be my date next weekend for the event for which I needed a Plus One.

Saturday night, however, was a total bust! I finally went out with this guy after resisting for a long time. I'll refer to my date as "Tom" (as in Harriet Beecher Stowe). A former colleague and her hubbie had been wanting us to meet forever. The hubbie worked with Tom. The mutual friends are the blancoest of blanco. Very conservative, old money. So, I knew that if the hubbie was good friends with a Black guy, the guy had to share his ideals and fit in with that crowd. I broke down and began talking to Tom on the phone. If I didn't know any better, when I called him, I would have sworn that Tom was not a Black man at all. Even still, I was optimistic that he was cool.

So, we arranged to meet on Saturday evening for dessert and coffee (which was fine b/c I would not have to endure a whole meal with him if he was as wack as I thought he would be). The spot was near his house, so I agreed to meet him there, and we then drove out to the spot. Tom's townhouse was neat. The first thing I noticed was a picture of him with about ten White guys. I asked what the occasion was, and he informed me that it was a wedding. Okay. Later that evening, Tom informed me that most of his friends are White, but he wanted to meet more Black people. He then suggested maybe I could introduce him to some! WTF? Can you even believe this dude?

It is not very hard to meet Black people in the DC area (also known as "Chocolate City"). In fact, I can't go anywhere and not see Black people. That's why I love it. Who does this sellout think I am? Anyway, I figured out that even if I could stand him, I could never introduce him to any of my friends or family without being the subject of much ridicule.

Needless to say, I will not be going out with Tom again--unless I become really, really desperate. I could picture it now--him suggesting I get a really long blond weave and blue contacts. I don't think so. I can only wonder why he did not develop relationships with Black people. It's really sad. How do people turn out this way? Self-hatred?

Evite from Ex

2005-09-07T12:05:00.000-04:00

That's right the very mature 28 year old (yeah, right) is back from Aruba (albeit with a sore rear end from being towed in an inner tube by a speed boat along the caribbean sea shore). Aruba is absolutely beautiful—-much better than any island in the Caribbean I’ve ever visited. The food and drinks were also great. I highly recommend it to those of you seeking a little escape. Added bonus: I saw Trick Daddy in the airport in Charlotte, and although he was very unhappy about something, I asked him for a picture anyway, and he said yes. You know, Trick love da kids!

Today I received an evite from an ex with he and his new girlfriend's name on the "from" line. WTF? I guess he bought a house. He should know that as nice as he is, like the book says, he just wasn't that into me. That said, we are not friends. I am not ashamed to admit that I can not be "just friends" with a man who broke it off with me just about a year ago with no real explanation. I don't want to go grin, shuck, and jive in he and his girl's faces. What the hell is he thinking, anyway. I don't think I could go hang with any ex. Luckily, I have a previous engagment that same night. Am I being silly? Would you go?

I have to give major, major props to Kanye for taking a stand on the NBC telethon. He only publicly said what a lot of us are thinking and blogging about. Many are saying it was not the time or place because of the show’s intended purpose. To that, I say if someone takes Kanye’s comments and decides not to give money to the cause, they are the ignorant ones. He was obvioulsy feeling it--damn near in tears.

ABW is Over & Out..."Black Spot?"

2005-09-02T09:00:00.000-04:00

Now it's time to say goodbye...That's right ABW is headed to the island you see for some much needed R&R and to party like it's my birthday (cuz it will be). Maybe I'll be less angry upon my return. We'll see about that. I will, however, be 28. Sigh. I have not packed a thing. Typical ABW.

Instead of packing last night, some college friends and I headed over to a posh bar in Georgetown called Blue Gin for a Boys & Girls Club benefit. Kwame Jackson, of "The Apprentice" fame, sponsored the event. He went to college with us (well, just before me, but we have mutual friends and he sat at my table when his frat brother married my linesister--you know we desperately cling to fame anyway we can)! I sure hope they donated some of the $85 I spent on drinks. $12-13 per martini. Crazy. It was worth it, though. They make their drinks with fresh fruit. The watermelon martini had crushed watermelon in it, among other things! Check out Blue Gin if you get a chance. It's tucked away in an alley next to Benetton.

So, I was feelin pretty mellow when I got home. Didn't pack anything. At least Young1 came over a few days ago and took my suitcase upstairs from the basement. That's as far as I've gotten!

So, I'll be out of your hair for a few days, but I'll be sure to give you all of the juicy details when I get back.

I can't leave without putting a query out there. Would there have been a more rapid federal response to the situation in NO if the population were not 2/3 Black? Can the mainstream media (especially Fox News) create anymore sensationalism for the "black spot" that is NO? How many times can they use the word "thug" to describe looters? Although there is no excuse for killing, shooting, or raping, do these so-called smart people not realize there are sociological and psychological factors at work in NO?

Anyway, see ya when I see ya.

When Will they Breathe Again?

2005-08-30T18:08:00.000-04:00

Today, I went to a lunch meeting at work and heard a guy joke that this was the only time that Bourbon Street would ever be clean. I did not see the humor in this statement and wondered how this boy (because he definitely is not a man) could be so insensitive.

People are less inclined to appreciate the gravity of a situation when they are not directly affected. I guess that’s just the self-absorbed world we live in today. I, however, feel great empathy for those affected by Katrina. How could anyone not??

I have a former colleague living in NO. She had a baby about 12 weeks ago and she and her hubbie had to evacuate to Dallas to her in-laws’ house. She does not know if she still has a house and can’t go back with her hubbie to clean up/salvage whatever remains because she has to attend to the baby. What is she going to do? What are they all going to do?

And what about those people in the Superdome—those who were either too frail to leave NO or who could not afford to do so. The reports say that the Dome is muggy, rising water is threatening the generators, the bathrooms are filthy, trash is overflowing, and it is wet in certain spots due to the leaks. The shelter has almost become a cesspool.

I heard a man on the news this morning, who said that he watched his wife drift away, and he could not save her. Her last words to him were, “take care of the children.”

Losing everything is a very distressing thought.

Let us all pray for the people along the Gulf Coast -- in New Orleans, Biloxi, Mobile and surrounding areas whose lives are forever changed by Katrina. Let us be thankful for our own circumstances no matter how bad they may seem.