Monthly Archives: August 2010

Hmm what chu’ say

Doing the usual nightly laundry. When when I see neighbor bringing in a handful of groceries into his house. Walking back up the stairs to my place he says “Hey I’m going to be cooking a big dinner tonight, you wanna stop by?”

“Sure.” Why not? Meet the neighbors. Don’t be such a recluse ,T.

Walking back to unload and dry I bump into him once again. “Hey everything will be ready about 10pm. Is that too late for you?”

Yeah, kinda. “That’s fine.”

As I’m half dozing, half aware of the clock ticking slowly(quickly) to 10:00, I think about ‘canceling’ but I picture this big dinner he’s sweating over and hey, it’s free food. And anything’s better than  the block of pepper jack cheese and mangos I’ve been munching on. I get the sleep out my eyes. Look around the floor for some jeans to throw on. Leave on my silver nighty/tank thats slightly padded but not really. Opt out on a bra. It’s 10 o’clock at night for god’s sake and I’m just going down stairs. Hell, I barely wear one to work. I wrap a scarf over my afro while trying to decide the proper etiquette to ‘eating and running.’ Should ask for my food to be wrapped as I stand by the door holding the knob. Or chit chat for 15mins, asked to be served, than start complusively yawning.  I guess I’m still stuck in this dilemma as my hand comes up to knock on the door, when I hear “It looks like it’s about to rain.”

I nearly jump out my skin. He’s standing over to the side, chillin…hanging out? “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” We small talk about the weather and what not and neighbor finally lets me in. More chit chat. “You want something to drink?”

“Water please.” No water. Just flavored bottled water. With tons of artificial flavors and perservatives. Gag. “Sure, I’ll take some.”

Sipping the overly sweet gunk, I realize something is not quite right. As if reading my mind he says, “You know, I didnt wanna cook all that stuff… but I do have these dinners. I mean they’re the best. Now if your going to get any type of dinner you wanna get these. They are so filling. I love the pasta one…”

I start thinking would it be rude to suddenly head/run for the door now. I regret putting my phone and keys over on the counter. I have this strong urge to discretely text my bff’s and tell them the nonsense I’ve gotten myself into.

He’s now sitting next to me on the couch with *gasp* not two dinners. But one. Hm. So we’re sharing a HungryMan. Lovely. So neighborly of you.

“You wanna try some?” Absolutly not. One, I don’t eat processed food. Two, your serving me a frozen dinner! But if I decline that would defeat the whole purpose of me coming over for a MEAL. “Sure, I’ll have one bite.”

I take a fork a gently swirl the ‘pasta’ around it. “Yeah, that’s how you do it.” He says with this knowingly smile. Did he expect me to dive in with my toes. I shove it in my mouth and it’s everything that I expected. A salty, processed mess.

“Good, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

More getting to know you chit chat. Interview like questions. “What type of hair on a guy do you like?” Huh?

“That questions irrelvant, because I have no interest in men.”

Pause. “Ohhhh,” he exhales. Here we go. 3…2…1….

“So when did you stop liking guys?” Idiot

“My two aunts are gay.” Idiot (refer to blog below)

“Wow, I’m glad we got our sexual orientations out the way.” (?) Fucking idiot

Somehow he transcends to the floor. Thank you. Your reading my mind. Put some fucking space between us.

“So your a massage therpist?” Here we go. 3…2…1…

“Can you massage my shoulders?” *sigh*

“Can I massage yours?”

“How long do you have to know me in order to get a massage from you.” Eons you weirdo. And I still wouldn’t touch you.

“Can I give you a compliment.” Pause. “You have really nice…upper parts.” Are you fucking kidding me. Another Pause. “You can say thank you.”  No he didn’t.

He gets up and starts randomly dicing a piece of garlic (with a really big butchers knife) “You know, I’m a really private person. I don’t get down with everybody like that.” He motions outside. Speaking about our ‘busy’ neighbors. “Yeah I’m pretty private.” Still slicing garlic. While looking me dead in my eyes (as they slowly get bigger and more intense) he goes in for another swift slice, as he says slowly “Do you like your privacy also.”

Run T, RUN !!!! 

“Hm, sure. At times. But I like to be very social. I like to get out.” I also like to hang out with really big black guys who have their own set of sharp knives. So there! Ya weirdo.

I stand up and grab my keys and phone. “Well I gotta open tomorrow, so yeah…” I trail off.

“Yeah that’s cool.”

Before I even get to my door Im calling my bff. Why do I put myself in situations like that. I mean, when someone calls me over for dinner, coffee, a game of spades, thats what I expect. Nothing more. Why do people have to have subtle ulterior motives. Your ass knew you werent gonna fix a dinner when you asked me to come over. And why would ‘getting our  sexual orientations out the way’ be important anyway. We’re just neighbors. Who cares.

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Posted by on August 30, 2010 in dear diary


“My bestfriend is Black”

“Oh that’s cool your gay. My two aunts are gay. And they’re like the coolest people.”

My response? No repsonse. I don’t get it. Why do people feel the need to assure you that they are some how connected and comfortable with a certain trait (race, sexuality, religion) just because their family/friends, neighbor, co-worker exhibits the same ones.

It’s no different then a white person saying “Oh I like black people. My neighbor is black.”

Who the fuck cares

I guess therefore since his aunts are cool, I must be cool, right. Perfectly logic explanation.


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Posted by on August 22, 2010 in dear diary, Lesbo stuff



May be getting a car this month. It’s a A to B, but whatever gets me around. But with that, Im going to have to postpone my Deep Tissue Sculpting class that is coming up later this month. Because I’m using my class money for the car. And its weird cus even though I need a car, and this friend is giving me this hoopty at a steal price, Im more disappointed that I won’t be taking my classes on track. I don’t actually have a deadline to take my hours. There is going to be another class the following month. But still its like damn. I had a goal, a specific timeline and now its all fudged up for the moment. So now instead of getting done by early October its going to be late November. Not a big difference, but STILL.

Meditation is going okay. This past class was a um forgot the name, but we had to tense up a certain body part for a few seconds then let it go. Tense up jaw, release. Tense up calves, release and so on. I didnt like it. Not sure if it was me or the actual meditation exercise. Is it corney to say that when I walk down the halls of the school I feel right at home. Its so comforting, safe, and just right.  I feel my body getting right on track and definitly getting stronger.  I swear my first day of class was like my first day on clinic floor at Aveda 6 yrs ago. Now everything is coming back to me. Feels lovely:)

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Posted by on August 6, 2010 in dear diary


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Single and loving it (?)

Oh the woe’s of being single. I had one of those moment’s. The ‘wish I had a girlfriend right about now’ moment. Since I’m getting off work early (wooo hooo!) I now have tons of free time….alone (boo hoo). A huge cloud of reminicing loamed over me as I remembered how a day of getting off early was like winning a million bucks. Or simply winning a day to spend with my sweetie cakes. Whether it’s doing it big and skipping town for a day or simply gorging ourselves on junk food and liquor as we snuggle for movie time.  Yes, the ‘married’ days. I do miss it, but definitly not ready to jump in the ole lesbo fish bowl yet.   

I’ve been practicing my Think…Release meditations. I admit the first days of doing it were horrible. It’s like when I try to have a calm, peaceful, zen day it explodes in my face. I had the worst day at work. Everyone was pissing me off. Co-workers were irritating me. Guest were working my last nerve. And when I would try my meditation techniques they would just intensify my inner irritability. So I’m thinking as far as my personal preference for meditation, it has to be more of a sub-conscious process. When I focus to much on trying to be relaxed, I simply get the opposite reaction. It’s all a work in progress. This thursday we’re trying a walking meditation technique. Can’t wait. 🙂

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Posted by on August 3, 2010 in dear diary


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