A Day in the Life

I've Moved

2011-06-15T20:45:00.000-04:00

Did you miss me? If so, I'm here now:

http://thamanagement.tumblr.com/

Note: If you thought I was random on Blogspot, you will be shocked at my randomness on Tumblr. I don't have many posts so keep checking back.

- Tha Management

Shutting Down

2011-04-05T09:54:00.001-04:00

So, its about the time for me to say goodbye.

I thought I'd always have this blog, but recently I've realized that I'm not as attached, witty, or invested as I used to be. I may blog again one day, but for now, I'm going to bid adieu to this space.

Thanks for reading, commiserating, laughing, and shouting with me when needed.

- Tha Management

Is She Crazy or Did He Do Something Wrong?

2011-04-04T09:00:00.000-04:00

Friday night was a blur of happy hours, margaritas, long island iced teas, and drunken phone calls. The exact opposite of what a second year law student with no summer associate position who has a month before finals should be doing. Well, I'm not your typical law student ... I'm MUCH more foolish.

Anyway, I have a question to pose to my readers that has caused MUCH debate amongst everyone I've told it to.

Friday night while having drinks with a friend at a bar, I see that I've missed two calls from a private number. The number calls my cell again, and I answer because this does not seem like a coincidence. When I answer the phone, it's a woman calling asking me if I texted her. I have a blackberry and crazier things have happened so I indulge this women in conversation while trying to get to the bottom of the text message story. That's when things go left.

Women: Hi, you texted me last week?
Me: (confused) I did, when did I text you? (starts scrolling through cell phone looking for alias text messages)
Women: You texted me on the 29th, 30th, and 31st.
Me: (extra confused, 3xs in a row? After scanning texts, sees a recent add, a guy who has a connection with a teacher that I wanted to meet. Checks dates, yup, texts on 29th, 30th, and 31st.) Are you talking about C.N.? I was texting him about his professor.
Women: Yes, that number. Begins with 973 ... Are you in C.N.'s class?
Me: (Isn't that ninja married? Is this his wife? Is she calling me to see if I'm sleeping with her HUSBAND?) No. I was texting him about the class and the professor.
Women: So you are in his class? You just said you weren't.
Me: I'm not. I wanted to meet his professor. (wait a second, WHO THE HELL AM I TALKING TO?) I've been talking to you and I have no idea who you are. Who am I speaking to?
Women: So it was just about the class.
Me: Yes, and you are ...
*DIAL TONE*

Now, it was very clearly his wife I was speaking to. I also heard that chick has done this to another female friend of mine. I also find out the C.N. and his wife were married one week before he started law school and she's in med school in a different state.

I've heard arguments that he must have cheated or done something shady and that she's just crazy and needs to get a check on herself before she looses her man.

My thoughts? I would neva, EVA, call a chick on a the random to see why she was talking to my man. I'd ask my man. And if I didn't trust his answer, that's between me and him, not me and her. That speaks volumes to me about their marriage

Thoughts?

- The Management

An Ode to Kris Kross

2011-03-07T09:00:00.001-05:00

Rap music really sucks. I've bashed radio rap so many times on this blog that its not even worth me mentioning anymore. I could write a post every time I hear some ludicrous* ish on the radio but why? Who even has that much time in the day? Or gets that good reach of wifi? Its just not really worth it.

BUT, I was reminded about how bad radio rap is when I was strolling through the K section of my ipod. You know what the song Jump reminds me of? Second grade, summer time, a mean babysitter, Another Bad Creation, wearing clothes incorrectly, and happiness. So when I hear the song, I instantly get nostalgic. But since I'm in my car listening to the radio, I also listen to the lyrics for the first time in 18 years and guess what, these kids could rap

and they rocked.

"You can get the finger, the middle" was the HARDEST thing I had ever heard a kid say. I loved me some them.

Funny story. I used to think "I need a Ruffneck" was a song by Kris Kross. I didn't know what an MC Lyte was, they sounded alike to me, I never listened or understood the lyrics, and I didn't know what a Roughneck was. I assumed that it was a condition that your neck acquired when you were cold, or bad, or in the streets ...

Watching this video and listening to the lyrics makes me angry. Please, watch and be angry with me.

Do you remember when Kris Kross came out with an album as adults? They had the song "Tonights the Night"

I loved this song too. Watching the video embarrasses me though. I don't know why, but its like watching something you shouldn't be watching.

This is a video of one of the Chris's who has alopecia. He seems to be doing well for himself O_o ...

Oh, and for my stance on Another Bad Creation ... I never got into them as a kid. I loved the song "Iesha" but I only got to hear it when I went to the babysitters house.

After watching "Iesha" and "Playground" I just realized I wasn't really missing out. #hater #kriskross4life. First, these children were infants. Why did they tape these two videos at the same time? Why do they have them humping the air? And why at the end of each of these videos are they being chased down by little white girls? "Another Bad Little Fad" is right.

#fail.

- The Management

*Ludicrous and Fabulous are two words children born in the 90's will never be able to spell correctly, and its a shame.

** Jermaine Dupree, I see you in that video. I'm guessing you signed Bow Wow because you had a formula for pimping children. You ain't slick.

Things that Should Have Never Happened (A series) Pt 2

2011-03-04T09:00:00.000-05:00

I have a guest post from Dondasaures Rex (Donda for short) to add to the "Things that Should have Never Happened" series.

This is interesting as she was in the inspiration for the series from a 4am phone call about Pizza. She received a 1:30 am phone call from a n*gga named KARMA and inspired this post about requesting love advice.
______________________________________________________________________

I went to school for business administration but lately I have been wondering if I missed my calling. Perhaps, instead of being a legal assistant, I should be hosting lovesick lunatics on a beige couch and counseling them on their relationships. Despite never being in love, or in a relationship that has lasted past eight months, I have found myself doctoring the relationships of my friends and family. Allow me to explain.

Episode One: I meet up with my new friend Diana,* she’s in town for work and is staying at a nearby hotel. I knock on the hotel door excited about all the fun things we’re going to talk about and all the rotisserie chicken we’re going to eat until she answers the door in the middle of a heated discussion with her boyfriend. I sit on the hotel bed awkwardly waiting for her to finish so we could commence the chicken eating. She ends her phone conversation by hanging up on her boyfriend, going on a angry curse laden tirade, then finally bursting into tears. In the middle of sobbing she exclaims that she “hates that cracker ass cracker” (aside: love may be blind, but anger is racist). I spend the next hour and a half comforting, consoling and giving sound advice such as “Negros ain’t shit too.” By the time the episode has ended the chicken is cold, it’s near midnight and I’m mildly annoyed.

Episode Two: I’m driving back from an interview in bumblefuck, MD and get a call from the BFF that starts off with “Hey, you called?” and launches into a hysterical, indecipherable, lovelorn rant. I want to be there for the homie but I’m about to be lost in Klanstown and need to access my phone’s GPS. I issue some comforting words and advise her to breathe. I promise to call back when I’ve reached the safety of the Capital Beltway.

Episode Three: I’m chilling at Tha Management’s house looking at pretty dresses when I get a call from Noah* the boyfriend of my gay BFF, Pookie asking me if I’ve seen Pookie. The ride or die in me kicks in and I make the mistake of asking “Why?” Noah launches into a tirade about how big of an asshole Pookie is and that he’s been out with his friends all day and abandoned him at a party. I put Noah on hold because on the other line is Pookie asking, “What lies has that drama queen been telling you?!” I wonder how I got in the middle of their bull AGAIN but I facilitate them meeting up to talk about the problem with each other. All of this takes about twenty minutes and Tha Management is giving me the serious side eye.

The Straw that Broke the Camel’s Back: Little single ole me has settled in to bed this past Saturday night. I specifically went to bed early so I can wake up, go to spin class, then go to church and thank Jesus for my new job starting this Monday and for allowing me to make it through aforementioned spin class. At 1:30 a.m. I hear my cell phone ring. I ignore it because a call at that hour is disrespectful. I hear it ringing again and I decided to answer it because a second call at that hour is an emergency. I pick up the phone to hear my baby sister’s boyfriend sobbing and telling me that he’s coming over and that I need to take him home and then return to DC to pick my sister and her friends up from the club. Umm, I need to go to sleep, I ask him where my sister is and he wails that “She’s in the club, she won’t leave!” I’m tired and confused so I say okay. He comes to my house, goes to the bathroom as loud as humanly possible, takes all of their relationship memorabilia from my sister’s room and sniffle’s “I’m ready.”

I assume he’s not going to want to talk about it, I assume wrong. For the duration of the forty minute trip he yells, cries, and gesticulates wildly about how my sister is cheating on him, he has the text message proof (which he can’t access because the phone is dead) and how he has nothing to live for because he gave up his boys for his girl, he lost his job and crashed his car, and now he has lost the love of his young twenty one year old life. I launch into Dr. Love mode and begin the counseling session. We somehow land on how his stepfather cheated on his mom and he would never disrespect my sister and more crying. I tell him perhaps the texts were innocent flirtations and he should discuss his fears with my sister instead of leaving with MY car while she’s in the club. He calls my sister screaming about how he “knows!” about her double life and that he is going home. I hear my sister launch into drunken curses about him being a bitch. We finally reach the club and she gets in. I wait for the fireworks. I’m met with silence. Now usually, I would welcome the silence, but tonight I was pissed. I was dragged from my bed, in forty degree weather and had been forced to drive a hysterical boy around the city. I shrug it off and decide to curse my sister out in the morning. I ask her boyfriend where he lives and he answers, “ It’s late, I’ll just go home with you guys . I don’t want you going out your way.”

What? WHAT?!?! You’ve been made me go out my way!!! The next afternoon I wake up (I missed church and spin) and ask what happened. My sister replies “We’re fine, Sorry bout that Donda”

They’re fine.

Diana and her cracker ass cracker: Fine.

The BFF and her sorta, not really, what the fuck are you then boyfriend: Fine.

Pookie and his dramatic ass boyfriend: Fine (although I have received two subsequent calls that indicated that they weren’t but neither one of them are ready to get off the pot).

Me: Single, sleepy and bitter. I’ve put in enough work for four relationships yet I don’t have one. I’m ready to cash in my Karma. Karma better deliver me with a tall, handsome boyfriend who is fond of curvy, glasses wearing, afro having awesomeness.

*names changed to protect the crazy

______________________________________________________________

Honestly, she should write a romance book at this point. She has as much credible expertise as Steve Harvey. O_O

- The Management

Plus Size Dress Hell

2011-03-02T09:00:00.004-05:00

I am beyond excited at the fact that I am going to Houston for a conference in a few weeks. Beyond. I know I'm on official school business but its Spring break, there are soooo many black people in Houston, and I'm going to be surrounded by intelligent black lawyers, with my accommodations paid for, for five days.

Tootsie Roll time ...

GIFSoup

To the left, too the left

To the right too the right

Now dip baby dip.

So, there is a black tie gala during the convention that I am required to attend. I don't have black tie dresses hanging out around my apartment so I had to go shopping. Currently, I am a size 18. That means that I am restricted for looking for plus size dresses, which I am fine with. I am also 26, which means I do not want to look like an old lady. I am also a student, which means I'm poor.

What is a girl to do?

My first stop was Monif C. I fell in love with this dress immediately.*

I put it in my cart, dusted off my shoulders, and went off to start contemplating how to solve world hunger when I noticed the disclaimer ...

WON'T SHIP UNTIL MARCH 7th. I leave for the conference on March 9th. Am I cutting it too close? I chose to pass on the dress. (Sobs into pillow)**

As I move on, I realize how big of a struggle it is to find age appropriate dress clothing for plus size girls. I have a few places that I always shop:

Which all let me down. Asos Curve has some dressy options but not really "black tie." I knew I was going to have to move on to department stores. I went to Macy's and fell FLAT on my face. I fell in love with this dress:

Which I put in my cart ONLY for Macy's to tell me that they ran out. How do you let me put the dress in my cart and almost pay for it?! What is your problem?

The following stores have really nice plus size dress selections:

Macy's - despite 75% of their dresses looking cheap, you can find something there.

Also try:

Speigel
Boutique Larrieux

These designers have beautiful dresses:

Adrianna Pappell

Tadashi Shoji

David Meister

I eventually settled for this London Times dress in black from Macy's:

I loved the ruching/draping but I'm hoping that the dress is more fitted at the knee. This should compliment my frame although I'm worried about tata support (but I have a convertible bra that I can wear with this so no worries). I was 100% against getting a black dress but I realized I didn't have time to complain. They were having a sale so, with shipping included, I spent $89.20.

I'm hoping that through my struggle, others may be helped. I also briefly shopped at a few bridal salons for bridesmaid dresses but the shipping time didn't fit my time schedule.

Now to get some shwanky shoes. Beyonce has inspired me about the sparkly pumps so I'm leaning in that general sexy direction.

Happy shopping my fashionable plus size friends.

- The Management

*Isn't the model gorgeous? We have the same shape (I think my tatas may be bigger, so I know this dress will look amazing on me.

**As I write this I realize I can get the dress shipped to my hotel in Houston and have it to wear on the night of the dinner. I'm going to call Monif C on Monday and see what my chances are. Cross your fingers for me ladies and gents

The Romantic in Me is Mean

2011-02-28T09:00:00.001-05:00

F*ck her mean *ss.

Jazmine Sullivan has a song off of her first album called "My Foolish Heart." And, despite the songs mediocrity (sorry Jazzy, it's not one of your bests) it is the inspiration of todays post.

Some pertinent lyrics:

My foolish heart it made me fall in love with him.
I know it goes with how it's feeling.
My foolish heart was broken when he left us in the cold.
Now I'm left to fix the pieces.

I told you once I told you twice, the next time I won't be so nice.
You so quick to give it up, when you don't think about us.
I won't let you keep (keep) hurting me, if you gone keep causing me pain.
I won't let you keep (keep) hurting me, I'm about to take you out the game.

Preach sista, preach. How, may I ask, can one take their heart out of the game? I keep messing up, because it has as strong a vote in how I deal with men as my head does. I need her to have 1/3 of the vote because right now the ho is drunk with power.

Case in point. I met a nice, nice, NICE guy at the Target the other day.

He told me that I was very very beautiful. He asked me what I did and he was interested in the answer. He tried to get to know me in a sweet way and he was charming when he asked me for my phone number. My heart was ECSTATIC. THIS is what I'm talking about.

My head hit my heart with the "b*tch you crazy." One, he's not attractive, stop swooning. Two, CHILE HE'S BEHIND THE REGISTER. He is being so unprofessional by hollering at you right now. (His line after staring at me walk up to him and say "hi" -- "I was hoping you'd walk in my line." WOMP, WOMP). Three, he can't type. Four, his finger nails are dirty. Five, Six, Seven, Eight, a THOUSAND.

I had reasons for days. He did NOT get the number. But my heart was so happy for that ten minutes of awkward hollering and dirty fingernails because its rare that a man approaches me in a respectful thoughtful manner.

Heart, do better.

I know I've been too busy to go out and meet nice men in the places where nice men be at ... and I know that the last dude I talked too, I've been dealing with for damn near 6 years ... and I know I haven't felt that electricity of newness with someone in a while but you can't just be excited about ANY OL' BODY.

B*tch. And music like this (my new favorite song) DOES NOT HELP TO CALM HER DOWN!

So yea, this is a warning Sistah Romantic. If you cannot act right, I'm cutting you out of the equation ... and what a sad day that'll be because I really do want to find a man who will stimulate my heart as well as my mind (and a few other places too, nah mean, heh heh heh ...).

- The Management

*Despite the tone of this post, no, this is not about Reggie. Maybe I'll write another post about where we are now but for the moment I'm just focusing on how I'm feeling. And I'm feeling like my heart cannot be trusted.

**Can I just say that sista in the video, V. Bozeman I believe, not only has amazing skin (like chocolate in a fondue machine) but an AMAZING *ss. A guy told me that it was "aight" and I shook my head. That is 100% homegrown booty meat that is not injected with anything. You applaud greatness when you see it and that is greatness. I am jealous. She made me start doing lunges and squats and trying to get more sun the instant I saw the video. Oh and that amazing voice she has ... I had chills. Favorite song FOR REAL.

Romantic Valentine's Don't Exist for Me

2011-02-14T01:20:00.000-05:00

*I'm writing this instead of the final that is due on Tuesday afternoon. If this isn't a sign that I love ya'll I don't know what is.*

It took me about 10 years to realize that I had never had the movie version of Valentine's day. I never dated the guy who would surprise you with flowers or chocolates and take you to a restaurant and whisper sweet nonsense in your ear all the while reciting how much he loves and cares for you.

When I realized this, I wasn't sad per se. I was more disappointed. I had been in countless long term relationships with guys who'd I'd done all kinds of romanticalish for and I felt gipped. Where is my gotdamn romance!

So, I went about proclaiming my dilemma to any negro who I could find to sympathize with me ... actually, I told one negro, my friend/side piece Que and he said he would make my next Valentine's special.

I. Was. Giddy.

Que was always going on and on about how awesome he was to his ex and how he did all kinds of romantic ish for her. He would tell me about lavish last minute birthday parties and hotel room romance ... our birthdays are a day apart so I assumed he shared the same penchant for the romantic that I did. So I was expecting all kinds of bells and whistles.

All Valentine's day he's calling me asking me random questions.

"What kind of candy do you like?"
"Gummi bears."
"Umm, what about chocolate"
"I'm not a big chocolate person. I always have to drink water when I have chocolate and I never feen for it."
"So, no chocolate?"
"Nope."
"F*ck."
"What?"
"You always making ish hard."
"I was just answering your question dude."

And so on.

Problem was, despite all these questions, he never confirmed what time I should meet him and where. Around 8pm, I was hungry and wondering what the hell was going on. He finally tells me he's ready to meet me and I drive up to meet him at his house so I can leave my car and he can drive.

In anticipation of this night, I get semi dolled up. So makeups done, outfits great, and heels are high. In order to flatten out my tummy for maximum Jessica Rabbit hourglass, I put on spanx. Keep that in your mind for later.

I get to him, he drives me to the mall. No joke. I'm looking around perplexed. He parks in the parking lot, looks at me with sad eyes and says, "so I made a dinner reservation and we missed it."

Record scratch.

I side-eye him while he stumbles through the explanation of the restaurant closing at 6pm and what restaurants close that early, and it was a beautiful place where you eat over the river, etc. etc. etc. But I can barely hear him because I'm HONGRY. My stomach is telling him to shut the f*ck up and feed me. My face was being understanding. He gives me a choice. Friday's or Chick-Fil-A. Friday's is packed so its Chick-Fil-A.

The night is not starting off well.

He has a two seater so I never look at his back seat. After eating the meal (in the car btw, we went to the drive through) he starts rooting around in his back seat to grab something. I turn around and see a huge white teddy bear. He notices me notice it and says, "Oh yea, here" and drops it on my lap. He then tells me he was going to have to waiter bring it to the table but you know the reservation thing.

Mhmm.

While staring at the massive white fluff that was dropped in my lap, he also hands me a tie and a rose. He tells me to blindfold myself. I say no. He tells me I'm ruining Valentine's day. I think, Valentine's day was ruined at the Chick-Fil-A but I oblige and blindfold myself.

As he's driving he starts stroking my face with the flower. Only, what the f*ck is he doing that for. I'm blindfolded. I start batting at my face like crazy and he tells me to calm down. I know I'm pouting but he's driving so he's not noticing. Imagine me, huge white furball, blindfolded, being attacked by a rose. Sigh.

We park and he tells me to get out of the car. I say, can I take my blindfold off. He says no. He then leads me upstairs around a corner and through the woods and some moreish, while I am clutching the fur ball and screaming about dying and being walked into walls. I hear a door open and warmth. We are in a hotel room.

Now can I take the blindfold off?
No

He starts to undress me. HOL' UP. I wasn't expecting not having access to a bathroom if we were doing the do and ain't nothing sexy about the spanx I'm rocking. I'm telling him I have to go to the bathroom to take off the spanx and he's arguing with me about not caring and that I can't take off the blindfold. I'm getting mad, he's getting mad, and I'm about ready to cancel the whole night. We come to a compromise. I can take off my spanx if I keep my blindfold on. I won't even recount how unsexy my 10 minutes in the bathroom was, but lets just say, I had a bruise on my arm when I came out.

The rest of the story is PG-13. Stop reading here if you don't want to know what grown folks do.

After I stumble out of the bathroom he undresses me. Buckyball*ssnekkid. I'm uncomfortable and blindfolded. He leads to the bed and makes me lay down and starts rubbing the rose up and down my body. I just lay there wondering why this is happening. He then says, OH YEA, and starts shoving chocolate in my mouth. I gag on the first piece. You can't just shove chocolate into a blind persons mouth. Why is this happening to me? Then he "makes it rain" with rose petals. I'm so over the night, I want the chex to happen so I can go to bed.

When I am finally able to take off the blindfold I notice my shabby accommodations. He has lit 2-3 candles and placed them sporadically around the room. He then remarks to me, "I decorated the shit out of this room."

O_o

After that I decided that I don't like this "holiday." It ain't for me. The romantic in me is dead on the 14th.

- Tha Managment

Oops, I did it Again

2011-02-10T10:42:00.000-05:00

Dammit, I'm going to have to get this poem tatted on my arm so I can remember what boundaries I need to have with guys I'm involved it.

Well, whatever. At least this time I know I wasn't fooling myself. It just sucks that I keep making the same mistake over and over. Never give of yourself unless you are getting in return.

My heart's too big, my eyes are always covered with rose colored glasses, and my mind's too optimistic.

Another again.

I know I'll find love eventually.

- Tha Management

Things that Should Have Never Happened (A series)

2011-02-08T10:14:00.000-05:00

I love my family to death but they can be so damn boring sometimes. My brother came to town and I spent all of Saturday with him and my dad, then with him and my other brother. Once 10pm hit we got to my parents house and everyone went to bed. I was just laying there bored wondering why no one was there to entertain me and after watching a movie on Netflix, I took my *ss to bed.

At four am, my phone rings and I see its Donda's little sister. I instantly get worried because 4am nights mean that she's in the street and last time I heard of her partying, her fiance was assaulted. I answer the phone groggily and this happened.

Her: Hey Mgmt, where is the Pizza place near your old job

Me: Hunh?

Her: Pizza place in Dupont

Me: Umm, near the CVS ... P Street

Her: Thank you!

*click*

Me: WTF just happened there ...

Picture me spending the next 3 hours attempting to get back to sleep, only to have my family disturb me during watching "For Colored Girls" (my review: A dramatic c*nty mess) because they all wake up at freaking 6am. I finally go back to sleep, miss church again, and reside in my bad mood for at least 6 hours.

So, a warning, it is not ok to call people at 6am to find out where a pizza place is.

Ever.

It should have never happened.

Especially not to me.

I aired them out on facebook appropriately.

- Tha Management

The Worst Holla Ever

2011-02-04T09:00:00.000-05:00

Gather round children, I have a story to tell.

After class on Friday I stopped at a gas station to get some gas (clearly). As I was messing with the machine, an older lady in the car parked in front of mine got out to pay. As she returned to the car, I hear a man yelling instructions to her about what kind of gas to pump, while she in turn started to mutter, "you are making me pump the gas too?"

#chivalryfail.

She's confused as to what he means by "the red one" (he wanted her to use premium gas) and asked me for help. I point out what he probably means and she verbally confirms with him before starting to pump the gas. I make the comment that my mother would be having absolutely none of that (I've inferred through dialogue that the two are in some way related) and that its ridiculous that she has to pump the gas. She smiles at me, gives me some cards to get my hair done (??? where they do that at ... she was acting slightly erratic so I began to think she's on drugs) and gets back in the car.

I figure dude must be a paraplegic because otherwise he would have gotten out of the car to pump the gas. I found out that I was wrong because dude has seen his boy and has gotten out of the car to run up and give him daps.

#smh.

As you can tell, my gas tank was on E so it was taking extra long to fill up.

I also have a staring problem.

I was straight gawk eyed staring at this dude because I couldn't believe his ass was seriously not handicapped. He sees me eyeballing him and realizes that I'm cute.

Fool: DAMN MA, You are beautiful.
Me: *still staring in disbelief*
Fool: Can I pump yo gas?
Me: *slow laugh that begins to take over my whole being. I release my hold on the gas pump to clutch my stomach and laugh.*
Fool: *grabs the gas pump and starts pumping* You are so pre...
Me: *Cuts him off mid-sentence as I've finally gained my composure* You are despicable.
Fool: So when can we hang out?
Me: You telling me that you would have your mother pump your gas, but you'd come over here and pump mine?
Fool: *not understanding what the problem is* Yea?
Me: *Laughs some more* That is despicable.
Fool: She ain't my mom, she my aunt I'm dropping her off up the street
Me: That doesn't change anything

Then my tank starts to overflow. On my shoes. Damn ghetto gas stations. Craziness ensues.

Fool: I'll put a few dollars on your tank
Me: I'm good
Fool: Don't touch the gas pump, I got this, I don't want you to get your shoes messed up
Me: Now you know how to act????
Fool: So when can we hang out.
Me: *Boyfriend excuse, busy excuse*
Fool: *continues undetterred*

and then he does my pet peeve ... he follows me

*Sidenote: I once had a stalker so I get very uncomfortable when people follow me around. The quickest way to get my phone number? Follow me. I won't answer your call when I see your number on my caller ID so you can have it.*

Me: *hands over phone number*
Fool: when can I call?
Me: Meh ... I'm always busy, good luck getting me

After finally running away from him, I decide that I have a fundamental duty to lecture him out of his ways. He's shown disrespect to elders, women, and a general lack of etiquette. When he calls, not only will I answer, I will try and teach the dude how to treat people. Then I'll tell him not to call anymore.

Wish me luck!

- Tha Management

Frontin'

2011-02-02T09:00:00.003-05:00

I am for real broke. Not in a "ha ha, I'm so broke, I couldn't buy that Fendi bag" but like, "lawd am I gonna have to start selling my eggs to pay for gas" broke.

That being said, I just bought a BMW.

HEY WITH YOUR JUDGY FACES AND SIDE EYES, let me explain ...

I am in no way not broke (figure out that double negative). My dad buys my groceries, I live off of school loans, and I drive 45 minutes to my moms house to do my laundry for free rather than paying the 1.50 a load for the machine in my building (that's damn expensive for those malfunctioning tiny *ss washers and dryers ok).

So, now, you are still looking at me like, WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU BUY A BMW???

Well for the following reasons:

1. My mom had it lying around her house. Yes, I said that. My parents are doing well financially and my step-father imports cars. He bought the BMW and they were trying to sell it. I convinced them to sell it to me.

2. I don't pay interest. BOOM.

3. My monthly payments are obscenely low. I won't even tell you what they are because I don't want you harassing my parents. They barely loved me enough to sell it to me. Actually, I think it was more pity than love. After begging, pleading, fake crying, and offering up limbs, internal organs, and free future legal services, they acquiesced.

4. My daddy pays my insurance.

Ok, so, you've learned a few important things about me now.

A. I'm shameless

B. I'm spoiled

C. I'm the most quintessential example of a frontin' *ss negro you will ever find. Every time I get into my car, I laugh at how ridiculous my entire existence is.

I am reminded of this song:

"Can't pay my rent, cause all my monies spent, but that's ok, cause I'm still fly"

You want to know how you can tell your life is a #fail? You can relate to a Big Tymers song.

(I emphasized that last sentence for obvious reasons.)

So, welcome with me, the latest car in a long list of cars that I have owned, Kaine. He was named after nothing in particular. Actually his full name is:

Kaine ILMO (in loving memory of) Midnight (the fish that I couldn't euthanize) Montgomery (my last car that was totaled). (Am I the only person that gives entirely too complicated names to inanimate objects?)

Kaine is the closest thing I have to a child so I took a picture of him playing (parked) in the snow. I am a loser and I am not ashamed to say it.

- Tha Management

I Think About That Sometimes ...

2011-01-31T08:27:00.002-05:00

"What?"
"If I would have stayed ..."
*Record Scratch*

I was bbming with my infamous ex P.S. this weekend when that conversation occurred. I had never contemplated what my life would have been like if he never moved to Florida and we stayed together. The reaction that he didn't get to witness, A HUGE SIGH OF DAMN RELIEF.

Imagine me starting off doing a slow jig that turns into a full out hammer dance
complete with a few booty pops and then switching into a mashup of the harlem shake

heel toe,

and a few body rolls. I crump for a few seconds,
then, transition into doing the perculator and finishing in a cunty Leyomi style falling split.

That is how I felt after contemplating how my life could have been if P.S. had never left.

I am soooooooo glad he left. More glad than you could imagine. During those few months waiting for him to leave, I was distraught. And over the four years of me playing girlfriend to a ghost, I was devastated. And despite all those years of anguish, lonely nights, and tears if he would have stayed there is a great chance that we'd still be together and that thought frightens the living ish out of me.

I thought I was happy all that time. Thought I had found the love of my life. I never really understood how horrible that boy was treating me, how sad I was all the time, or how badly I felt about myself. I just imagine this perpetual negativity steamrolling its way through my life. Hell, I might even be married to him right now! I may have never left Philly, may never have went to law school, and forget ever falling in love with Reggie.

Reggie started out as my side piece, lol. Don't look at me like that, I was his too. Side piece is putting it too crass though. We were each others escape. He was in a relationship where he was miserable and P.S. was MIA. Since we met before P.S. and I became official and him and his B.M. went all in, our relationship started off in the typical way. We made the decision to be just friends. And when ish started to go left in our auxiliary lives, we comforted each other. It started off innocently and then, well, you know ... But the times we spent confiding in each other, commiserating with each other, and just ignoring all of our problems and laughing at dumb stuff, really built what we are now.

While on cycle 3 or 4 of the P.S. and Management show, my best friends finally got to spend some time with P.S. Their reaction, "this is it? The way dude treated you I expected Denzel to walk to the table with you. ~~And you say the chex was just mediocre ...~~" Can you imagine? You know what let me stop just telling all my business* ...

So while P.S. imagines a life were we are happy together, I dropped to my knees and thanked God for always looking out. I dodged one hell of a bullet.

- Tha Management

I'm nursing a pre-migraine and cramps so I am super angry because I have a whole lot of ish to do. If these motrin don't work, I'm afraid for all small animals, everyone who calls my house, and anything I'd usually say was cute. It/they may die. I have put this warning into the universe. Woo-sah.

*I don't want to seem like I wasn't in love with this dude or that he's not a great guy. He is great and I wish him true happiness. He's just not going to ever find it with me and I have an inkling that he's still trying to get back where we were. Also, I'm pretty sure he doesn't read my blog. He used to, but he lost the addy and I sure as sh*t ain't going to give it to him (especially not after this post).

Self Righteous

2011-01-14T09:00:00.002-05:00

I've changed my views on almost everything since I was 9 years old. The older you get and the more you experience the world, you really see what it is that you will and won't do. Basically, I'm the embodiment of the term "you never know until it happens to you."

Here is a quick story to illuminate that point:

When I first moved into my apartment Rina gave me my first pet ever, a Betta fish that I lovingly named Ninja. Shortly after acquiring Ninja, I bought his frenemy Midnight and quickly learned that owning fish was more of a responsibility than I thought. I constantly worried about whether they were happy, if I was feeding them the right food, when/if they were going to die, etc. I ended up buying them separate glass tanks with wood embossing and bamboo shoots, all kinds of tank swag and I check on them daily.

Recently, Ninja acquired some kind of fungus or something and he is certainly on his last leg. I didn't think he'd last a week and I figured sooner than later, my dear friend would pass. Never having anything living and breathing that I'd ever been responsible for this whole process of fish ownership has been taxing. I just wanted so much for my fish to be happy and healthy. I wanted to show I could take care of a living thing.

Last week, I visited a fish doctor who basically told me if the medicine I was using to cure Ninja wasn't working, most likely he was a goner. Then in a weird random turn of events, I ended up cutting or scraping most of the scales on Ninja's face off, to this day I have no idea what I did. He was bleeding and everything. I thought, now surely he would pass by the morning. 5 days later, he's still (with labored breaths) breathing and swimming around the fish tank.

Everyone I know has offered to euthanize that fish for me. After the bleeding incident, I'm pretty sure he's in constant pain :( . He doesn't eat, he doesn't move, and the more he hangs around the tank, the worse the fungus grows over his face. With all that said, I refuse to assist in his death. With every breath is the chance that Ninja could get better, that his face will heal, that he will live for a long time to come.

I used to think that I understood people who had to pull the plug on a loved one. I thought, man, this is really selfish that you'd let someone keep living despite them being technically dead. I thought, I'd never want to live like that and if that was my husband, mom, brother, whoever, I'd be able to let them go on off to glory. But I know now that its just not the case. Really, the sheer hope that someone you love and care about could get better is a powerful hope. I have that hope for my fish, so I know I'd have so much more for a loved one.

So, to my future husband:

Dear future love of mine. I hope no bad things ever happen to you or to anyone else that we love. In the case that they do, I already know that my faith in miracles is very strong. I know that I believe that as long as there is a chance, I'll bet on that chance. So if the choice is ever on me as to whether or not to keep hoping and praying or to give up, I'll keep hoping and praying. I ask you in advance to take that choice away from me. Get a DNR, sign a statement, just tell me your wishes. I never want to be a vegetable so I ask you now to please pull the plug. Let me know what you want too. If anyone else we love is in a similar situation, I'll defer to your decision. Ending life is a decision I'm not going to make unless someone else makes me.

- Tha Management

I know this post isn't the happiest but I just look at how self-righteous I can be sometimes it always amazes me that I read myself so incorrectly. Self introspection at its finest.

Love in Awkward Positions

2011-01-12T09:00:00.007-05:00

Reggie and I hit a crossroads recently. Well ... not really a crossroad, more of a "so what now" type of pause in traveling. I am now almost thoroughly convinced that I've found the closest definition of the fictional character "soulmate" in him. This negro got everything I want in the opposite sex and also happens to care about me and my well-being in the most honest way I've ever experienced.

Wow, that sounded kinda deep.

Despite all this enamouring* betwixt the two of us, we keep tripping ourselves up because we aren't in the same place about "us". While I'm the romantic who thinks "Love conquers ~~all~~ a lot of stuff and we can certainly get past this" he's more responsible. I try to be responsible, but my brain won't let me. As soon as I am content with the way we are, I start daydreaming about the way we could be. And the way we could be is ... sigh, so good.

I know I'm idealizing an imperfect situation but with our history that's all I have to hang my darn hat on. We've never been together and every time we tiptoe closer to it, it all falls down (noKanye). I'm now just wishing we get the chance to date and break up, just so I don't have to wonder on my wedding day if I'd be happier with him.

We haven't found out how to make this thang work yet. Maybe we never will. Right now though, Reggie is the greatest love I've never known.

- Tha Management

* I am well aware that I make up words, no need to point it out.

This song kinda summarizes how I feel about ol' Reggie.

"I know so many people with eyes closed. They don't see you like I do. Darling, I do, see you"

Yup, my taste in music is eclectic.

Mommy's Little Princess

2011-01-10T10:13:00.000-05:00

I just found out we got bad uteruses (uteri, idk) in my family. My mom is a candidate for a partial hysterectomy and my aunt had a complete one last year. Understandably, this made me rethink my whole view on whether or not I want to be a mom.

To recap: I didn't know if I wanted kids, I certainly knew I didn't want labor, and I quadruply knew that I could never be with a man who didn't understand that I don't know if I want to procreate or not. He was either going to love me barren or kick rocks.

So out of NOWHERE, my ovaries started crying at the sight of babies and puppies. I mean what the hell bio-clock. I was doing FINE. And now, I stalk people's babies on Facebook. (Sidenote: I don't go on facebook to catch up with my friends anymore, just coo at pictures of their kids).

I tried my DAMNDEST to dull the longing in my baby producer so I started watching Scared Straight: The Pregnant Edition (aka 16 and Pregnant/Teen Mom) but this certainly didn't work because, well, I'm a grown up. But those labor scenes did make me scream out in faux pain and anger. Nope, I'm still not comfortable with that at all.

And then, I had a dream. Randomly, I was at Reggie's wedding (it wasn't to me) and I was holding my baby girl. She was beautiful and I had her in this little princess dress. We danced together (she was like 6 months) and I was so damn happy. Her name was Reagan. She was my little princess and I loved her so much. Mind you this is a dream. I woke up from the dream happy. Then I knew. I was going to be a mommy some day.

I've been through all the stages of grief on this one. Denial ... anger ... the other stages ... acceptance. And now I'm just content. In about 6 years, come husband, baby daddy, or sperm doner, I'm going to bring a baby into the world. And if God blesses me with a little girl her name will be Reagan. If he blesses me with a little boy then, well, I'll figure something out.

- Tha Management

The Wrong Mississippi

2010-11-15T00:00:00.001-05:00

I told you guys a while back about Mr. Mississippi. He was a nice guy who restored my faith in good men and even though it didn't work out, he gave me the hope that there are still nice guys left.

Well, HE'S EFFECTIVELY RUINT (yes, RUINT) MY LIFE.

I am the Social Chair for my Black Law Students Association and last night I threw a party. I invited schools from around the DMV to attend and also the SNMA's (for short I call them "Black Doctors"). Everything is going great and I finally meet my contact at the Medical School. He then introduces me to a guy who looks eerily like Mr. MS, but cuter. We shake hands and converse for a few moments and exchange pleasantries about where we are from. He tells me, I'm from MS. I say hey, I have a friend from MS. He says where is he from, I say the city. He says, I'm from that city! I say small world. He says what's his name? I say Mr. MS. and he says Mr. MS (last name). I say yeah, and he says THAT'S MY COUSIN.

Amazing.

So, I say, wow you are in Medical School, what's your specialty? He says INTRAVENOUS CARDIAC SURGERY.

Come again?

My life flashes before my eyes. I see me, Pro Bono attorney assisting poor families with their struggles while my rich Dr. Husband is called into surgery. Flash again and we are touring the European countries laughing and staring lovingly into each others eyes. I'm happy, he's happy, we are in love.

This could have been my life. Well, it would have been if not for the original Mr. MS. (Who I had a conversation with and we both came to the realization that it would never, ever work.) Clearly, I was introduced to the WRONG COUSIN (stares up at the sky wondering what God's plan is).

I did some facebook stalking and find out that not only is he going to be an amazing Dr., he is a genius. His list of accomplishments reads like a Ivy League College catalog (or, my perfect man's catalog). I keep thinking, if he's as charming as Mr. MS and has these credentials, Dr. MS may be "the one."

I've been sobbing uncontrollably for hours and cannot be consoled. Donda has been trying, but she keeps telling me to pass her number onto Dr. MS. I'm not amused.

- Tha Management.

Yes, I know I am a fool.

And if you are wondering, this is only a problem because Mr. MS spent the night (read into that what you want). If not for that, I'd be like MS who? and have already begun plotting on the Dr.

Hey sheepish grin

2010-11-08T14:43:00.000-05:00

I won't even begin to explain what happened to me the past few months. Let me just reiterate a few things:

I'm alive

Well, things would indicate more than one item but hell, if I've been living every moment of the past few months, then the aggregation of all those moments is plural and my one statement counts as plural. Ok, it's true, as Donda stated, law school has ruined me.

I've been feeling this way over and over for months now. Who I was before I started law school and who I am now are two drastically different people. I want to say that it’s a positive development but I'd be fibbing. But, at least I have the one thing up there and I'm holding on to that tightly.

So, a few small one sentence updates: Reggie and I are still homies. I'm still in law school. I got the best pedicure of my life last week and I kept rubbing my feet in disbelief. I have a car. I'm poor.

More blogs are coming (because I wrote a whole bunch today) so keep an eye out.

- Tha Management

It's Been a Long Time Coming

2010-10-05T00:01:00.000-04:00

But a change gon' come. - Sam Cooke (my favorite song)

For ten years I celebrated my birthday with fanfare and excitement. From birthday parties to trips to nights with the girls, I've been enjoying my own little holiday on October 5th. Well this is as good a year as any to do something different. So I'm not doing anything at all.

For 26, I'm hoping for a peaceful year. 25 was so busy. I started law school, went to London, quit my job, went to therapy ... big year, big changes. But this year, now that I am really happy, really confident, really comfortable in my own skin ... I'm hoping I can just sit around and take it in for a while.

I spent the night with the Trinity and then went to my parent's house because I want my mom to give me a hug when I wake up. I also looked up at the October sky and saw a million stars.

Things are beginning just the way I want them to be.

- Tha Management

Bootcamp Week 1

2010-09-10T10:38:00.000-04:00

There are times when I hate reminiscing because I have to relive my greatest disappointments and times when I was at the top of my game. I don't have regrets, because you can't change the past, but there are definitely times when I look back at something I accomplished or at something I failed at, compare that to where I am now, and end up with a :(. Being a chronic yo-yo-er makes reminiscing especially hard. I'll see a picture of myself at a sexy size 10 and then look in the mirror and see a size 18 and shudder. I love myself big or small, but there is no nice way of sugar coating that I need to learn to control this weight issue.

My latest weight rebound began when I started law school. I was still about 25 pounds heavier than the smallest I'd ever been, but I was still pretty healthy and pretty sexy if I say so myself.

Me, size 12/14 (ignore my facial expression)

I look at that pic now and am remiss that I don't look like that ... but when I did look like that, I was remiss that I didn't look like this:

Me, size 10 or smaller

See, I'm not nice to myself. My goals were only aesthetic, so when I'd get down to a place where my tummy was flat I'd get complacent. Hell, maybe I'd even get smaller than a flat tummy to an awesome number on the scale, THEN I'd get complacent. Complacency would lead to relaxing on either the gym, healthy eating, or both and then the inevitable yo-yo.

This latest weight gain pushes me right back up to my heaviest. I let the stress of law school impact me so negatively, I didn't care about healthy eating, gyming, or even if my clothes fit. I've been so bummed about my weight gain I do not let people take my picture, which is saying something since my ass was a model for 25 minutes.

Me in London, one of the few pics I took

The last straw came when I decided I wanted to get bariatric surgery. I was all set too, had a date, had a surgeon, had insurance ... and then I didn't have insurance. My surgery was scheduled for June 15th. As I was getting everything together on the insurance end, I'm informed by HR that my job is switching insurance companies on June 1st. The new insurance company does not cover weight loss surgery. *Sidenote: God works, he is real. He makes things happen when you are too stubborn to understand.*

I was so disappointed when the surgery fell through. The surgeon's office, in trying to sell you on bariatric surgery, basically tells you that if you are obese, you have no other options. No diet or lifestyle changes will work, you will gain the weight back, you will be fat your whole life, and if you aren't already dying from being fat, you will die soon. I felt hopeless. Still do sometimes. I didn't want to do anything better for me and I was content being stuck in this body.

I did little things here and there that did not help. I signed up for weight watchers, I'd go running every now and then, but nothing consistent, and nothing that would make a real impact. Then I remembered that the last time I lost significant weight after a yo-yo, I got a trainer. So, I looked at Craigslist found a month long bootcamp with good prices, and signed up.

Wednesday was the first day I went. It was a fitness test. I ran, squatted, jumped, sat up, crunched, and kicked until I literally almost threw up. We couldn't finish the fitness test because of it. I'm still surprised I got home. Thursday, I couldn't walk. I planned to do ish yesterday so I was NOT pleased. I hobbled to class and tried to stay still as much as possible. This morning, I almost didn't go, but my trainer promised me a miracle cure for my pain. The cure? Running down a busy street in Columbia Heights, DC tethered to a skinny chick who was enjoying herself.

I'm home now, still in pain but happy that I'm doing something that is actually going to work.

- Tha Management

Too Connected

2010-09-09T19:46:00.000-04:00

Gchat, Skype, Facebook, BBM, Twitter, Telephone, Text, Email (work and personal)

These are all the ways I can get in contact with Reggie if I want to.

Myspace (when I had one), AIM (when it was hot in the streets), Twitter, Yahoo Messenger, Telephone (work, home, cell, when borrowing other people's ish), Facebook, Text, Skype, Google Reader, hell Telepathy

All the ways I can get in contact with Donda if I want to.

I have at least 3 ways to get in contact with the people I care about in my life, including my mother who is a 1/4 electronically "retarded*" (even though she owns a 64 gig iPad, which she uses exclusively to watch Nigerian movies). I'm pretty sure I'm very high up in my levels of connectedness but some of this comes from my love of technology and my inherent nosiness. For example, I stopped posting photo albums on Facebook and I never update my status with anything that's not inspirational or funny. I also locked my Facebook down to Fort Knox and contemplate regularly why I have an account when all I use it for is to satisfy my stalker urges.

I'm off track ... lol

I realized that I may have a problem during class today, when I bbm'd Reggie. Then I sent him a gchat message. If I was home, I'd then check to see if he was on skype and if I saw something funny at the same time, I'd email it to him. We even talked about both getting new iTouchs because we'd be able to facetime. I don't even like him like that son. I ended up sending him a bbm (which is our primary means of conversing) and telling him I was going to write a blog about e-stalking him to which he responded B-) (sunglass smiley). We are both dorks.

Donda called my cell (who actually makes calls now a days?) and was like "WHERE ARE YOU?" See, she had reached out and I hadn't responded because I was in a meeting. When you are so connected that people can get you at any moment, they take that ish for granted. I know I do because I've sent various emails to my main e-stalkies asking "where you at." So, I'm reducing the ways in which I contact people. For Donda this means nothing because hell, I'll telegraph her if I need her, but because I'm worried about Reg and I smothering each other, I'll mainly bbm him and call. I want to set up boundaries for privacy because I know how quickly that can dissipate. I have a gross story about my Mom and Stepfather that just goes to show there is a way to be "too close" ... I just shuddered.

What about you? Are you too connected?

- Tha Management

*Sorry for the taboo terminology

Preachy

2010-09-06T23:45:00.001-04:00

Being unemployed leaves me with few options for fun. After class Thursday, my friend invited me to her place and supplied me with free food and a trip to a free bar. I doubly agreed yes. My pockets like the word free attached to everything.

Her sister and cousin had come to visit from Cali and I was my usual darling self. They were lamenting about men in DC and how they are not as bad as the ones in LA but they were a close second. I told them bluntly that there are too many women in DC and that this is land of 7s (meaning that most of the women in DC are nice looking) so men have an inflated sense of self worth in this city.

To put it bluntly, why do you (3) come at me (7) either wrong, disrespectfully, or sometimes with an inflated sense of self worth??? Because there are so many 7s you don't realize that you aren't a catch.

This is my theory anyway.

Well since relationship preaching is my forte, once they started asking me my opinion on things, the discussions got lively. Some highlights:

Topic: Marriage in general

Tha Mgmt's take: People need to stop looking at marriage as an entitlement. Marriage is a blessing. Not all people receive that blessing. What people need to teach is how to be happy within yourself and love yourself. Once you achieve inner happiness, you may be ready to receive the blessing of marriage and even then, God may not choose to grant you with it. Its not the best news, but its a great way to look at it. Instead of focusing on why you aren't married, you can be excited over the gifts God has blessed you with.

Topic: Dating a guy with a kid

Tha Mgmt's take: I don't know if I want to have kids, so a guy with a kid is perfect for me (Reggie has a son if anyone remembers). That way, they aren't pressuring me to have a baby since they already have one and I can make up my mind on my time.

Interjection: But you won't be his highest concern

Tha Mgmt's take: Maybe he's not mine either. Also, I believe that his child should be a higher concern in his life than I am, he/she came before me, has a different relationship with PNB (potential new boo) than I do and requires a different level of care than I do. I can put my female ego/need for attention to the side if need be if his child needs him.

Interjection: What about the Baby's Mom

Tha Mgmt's take: You have to understand your place in that equation. Parents have a bond over a child that can't be broken and when you enter the picture you need to know your role. I'm not saying that you should put up with behaviors that you don't like or are in any way disrespectful, I'm more saying that if you can't handle the way their relationship is, it is better for you to not be with the guy. Personally, I dislike Reggie's BM. Can't help it ... I don't like the way she acts towards him, her child (ESPECIALLY) or how she's approached me in the past. BUT, I bite my tongue and try not to disparage her because that's not going to help Reggie's situation. In fact, that really only makes it worse on him because not only does he have to deal with her, but he now has to hear about how unhappy I am about her when he's with me. Its a balancing game, one that many woman do not want to play (understandably) but if you are going to play, remember the rules. Baby first, then you and know your role.

Topic: Black men dating outside their race, black woman not getting married, etc

Tha Mgmt's take: This is just propaganda designed to take the continually successful black woman off her game. Most of the statistics are fake or stylized and inapplicable to the average black woman. Just be happy and keep it moving. Eff CNN.

Topic: Dating, Happiness, and Settling

Tha Mgmt's take: No one is perfect so if you want a perfect person, whoever you chose to date is settling. There are deal breakers (things that if someone you want to be is without, you will be so fundamentally incompatible its not worth going there) and there are wish lists (height, weight, mostly physical characteristics). I think everyone should be open minded. As far as happiness is concerned, I'd rather be happy ALONE than with a man and miserable. So many woman want a relationship, but that's JUST THE BEGINNING. Once you get that boyfriend, there are a whole host of additional issues that can arise. Its not like having a boyfriend is the magic end for all of your lonely girl problems. Hell, now you got a whole host of new problems to deal with. All I say is, when you get that man you want so bad, don't get caught up in being miserable. If you are unhappy and he's not able to make it any better STEP. Its ok to be selfish on this. Misery is not an emotion you should have to deal with. So if you've been dating a guy for a year, and he makes you cry once a month, leave his ass. If he keeps doing something you hate or doesn't respect your feelings, or makes you feel bad, leave his ass. Dating is the good part, marriage is work. If he doesn't treat you right when you are dating then he sure as hell isn't going to be any better with a ring. There is nothing wrong with happy and alone.

So there it is. I try to keep it 100 and I always qualify myself by stating that the thoughts and opinions expressed are my own. I'm also super long winded, lol. Ask me anything in the comments if you want me to pontificate on something else.

- Tha Management

Candy

2010-09-01T23:46:00.000-04:00

I've been mentioning here and there that Reggie and I are getting more serious. I don't know if any of you remembers Reggie, but he originally was mentioned in a few blogs and eventually ended up creating a mini series on my blog called "Life, Love, and Anarchy" which should have led to him creating his own blog, but ended in nothingness, lol. (I guess he takes from my school of blogging ... my bad for that three week hiatus).

His last post was entitled "The Dating Game" and was all about some potential girls he was considering dating. I added my editors notes here and there but was shocked when I read about the last girl he mentioned, Candy ... because I was her.

Here's what he said:

Candy: She is a sweet girl and seems to have everything going for her. Nice face, beautiful body, smarts, social status, fashionable and even friendly. Few years' ago, I had my chance to spend some time with Candy. This is one of the best time’s I’ve ever had with a woman. We have the same sense of humor and talk about anything from Politics to dumb TV shows like Rob and Big. The thing about this beautiful relationship with Candy is that we always have BAD TIMING. When Candy was available to be in my life, there was someone else in it (EM). Later, when I become available Candy has a man. EM and I decide to try again, meanwhile Candy and her man break up. Now that I am single again and really want to tell her what I truly feel Candy begins redating her ex and he seems like he is about to take it to another level. It’s not fair to a sweet girl like her for me to come in and tell her that I am head over heels for her when, as stated above I don’t know if I am ready.

I couldn't sum it up better than that. Reggie and I (two years later) seem to finally be in sync. We are also both semi-commitment phobes and neither of us will commit to a long distance relationship (he's still in Philly). This isn't the worst thing in the world, because he happens to be moving to the area in December. So far, we talk everyday, visit each other every few weeks, and he's even met my mom and Donda. But I'm still a little scared. Having 5 years of history with someone, being immature and growing older, being so close I could tell him what I'm doing with whom (and vice versa) without editing or consequence, leaves an odd level of familiarity between two people. Bringing that relationship to become more can be dangerous. He's knows about my past tendencies to cheat, the unhealthy relationship I had with PS (who is the ex he mentions in his post) and he even shares the same first name as my infamous ex-boyfriend Cat who's very existence still has a negative impact on my psyche. But he's been there. The whole time. He knows all that. And he's willing to try with me now. That's got to mean something right?

So, I'm excited. Paraphrasing Jay, "either he's the one or I'm caught in the matrix"

Here's hoping for the happy ending.

- Tha Management

and for sh*ts and gigs

Excuse Me Miss

Now that's a song!

I'm Home!

2010-08-16T04:26:00.000-04:00

Howdy all. I'm finally home and I get reprise for about a week before I'm back at school. This month in London whizzed by and I am very happy about the time I spent in the city. I'll definitely be going back soon.

I apologize for not having a full post, but I have a few stories to write up and will do so expediently. It is currently 4am and I am still stuck on London time (so its 9am) so I'm having a hard time sleeping. Instead, I'm going to wash my hair and watch some tv.

Hope you are having a great week!

- Tha Management

Screw Face

2010-08-04T09:00:00.001-04:00

After Friday night's f*ckery, I decided to conduct an informal study into why I am consistently being harassed by grimy dudes. My friend was very clear with her assertion that night "you look too nice."

So, is this why black woman so notoriously adopt "bitch face?" I always thought "bitch face" was a myth actually ... most of my friends look pleasant most of the time and if a woman constantly walked around with screw face they usually were unpleasant to be around. But I see that there may be some merit to looking mean.

But it's sad right? In order for a girl to not be harrassed, she has to look bitchy and mean. I'm not sure how I feel about this really (and I'm especially not sure how I feel about the response to screw face which is "if you smiled more, dudes would like you"). In my opinion, men should have some f*cking couth and not harass a girl because she looks pleasant. I also am not feeling this because my face doesn't really do "screw."

I don't always smile, but there was a point when I always did. In fact, I smiled so much that when I wasn't smiling people would ask me what was wrong. Now that I don't smile constantly, I'm always taking in my surroundings (I'm a people watcher) and am constantly amused. This ends up in me either smizing or scowling (smizing much more than scowling). On those few occasions when I'm deep in thought about something and I do have my face screwed up, I can count on someone (unfortunately, usually an old black man or a grimy dude) to yell "put a smile on your face." This should piss me off, and sometimes it does, but even then my initial reaction to almost everything is to smirk ...

I shouldn't be frustrated that I always look pleasant because it usually helps me out. For instance, I bump into people a lot. I'm clumsy and I'm ok with it. You know what makes a person who's pissed because you slapped them in the face with your 30lb book bag feel better? A smile and a quick "sorry."

Today on the bus, this lady (who def didn't want anyone to sit next to her) got me as a seatmate. I sat on her skirt and when she went to get up it pulled from under me. I instantly (and unwittingly) smiled at her. Her evil ass couldn't even help but smile back instantly. My smile is like b*tchness kryptonite.

In fact, this smile is how Reggie and I became friends. Every time I saw him on campus, I smiled. Then, we'd see each other either on the bus or at the bus stop and I was still smiling. Those smiles always got hugs. At one point, in the midst of a very busy Greek event, he sits next to me, looks at me intensely and says, "you have a beautiful smile." So, of course I asked him what I should do about the ignorance I've been dealing with lately, to which he replied, "scowl n*gga."

Such a romantic.

- Tha Management

Fluffy Vajage

2010-08-02T09:00:00.007-04:00

Saturday night was ... eventful.

I'd been trying (unsuccessfully) all weekend to study for upcoming finals. In one class I was doing great, in the other, I was struggling to get a handle on the 5 different resources I was supposed to use to conquer the course material. 5 items is just too much. I'll do a recap of my classes if I do a "Goodbye Luv to London" post. Actually, now that I said that, I guess I need to.

Anyway, I got frustrated a bunch of times and did various things to refocus. I took a trip to the mini-grocery store/gas station and got oreos, I talked on Skype for hours, I got my unread google reader posts from 350 to 20, and I got my daily fill of Antoine Dodson (the new love of my life). Eventually, I gave up the ghost and called my girl Kat to meet up for some drinks.

We met up in Brixton and I presented her with options of places we could go. One was called Dex, which Kat quickly told me was an S&M bar.

Me: "Nuh uhn."
Kat: "Yuh hunh, I saw a girl with fishnets and no pants go in there, its not our scene."

I also told her that I saw a bar on the corner and then a place called "The Fridge." We chose the Fridge and walked over.

Once inside I threw back a drink which is a big no-no for me. I don't drink often so I'm not always reminded of the adverse affects of me drinking too fast. I get heartburn and am tipsy at the same time. I need air, water, and time to get past it and on to more drinking. *Sidenote: the geek in my just googled "heartburn and drinking" and found out that this quite common and the only solution is to eat before I drink (which I did not) or to not drink at all (boooo, viva la tequila)* Because we did not pay a cover (and even if we had) I decided now was the perfect time to take a walk and then sit in the park. While walking, we noticed curious things were walking into Dex.

There was the 275 pound full bearded Scottsman in full kilt + garter, stilettos, and thigh high tights (complete with runs); the guy dressed from head to toe as George Washington (wig included) and the 275 pound lady in a black leather corset and holey fishnets sans pants.

Kat was right, Dex was not our style.

By now, I was tipsy, and fascinated. London, it goes hard, it goes hard. Even Kat (who has been in London for 2 years) was surprised at Brixton's mish-mash of randomness. The only disappointment of the night was that there were NO REGGAE BARS IN BRIXTON (which was originally the plan). Brixton MUST have the largest concentration of Jamaican's outside of Jamaica, no bs, and the fact that there wasn't one place that played reggae, dancehall or even hip-hop consistently was baffling. The club that we went to played house music which made me and Kat (who is also Nigerian) completely ecstatic because you can dance to it like you dance to African music and who doesn't have fun dancing to African music?

So you are wondering, "why did you name this post Fluffy Vajage (pronounced vuh-jay-dge)?" I had to go to the ATM and there was an "Off-License" (which I do not know exactly what that is, but I'm assuming its like a 7-11) with a bunch of dudes milling about. These guys were Jamaican (per their accents) and loud. I first encountered them when I got off the bus and I heard them yell something at me to the tune of a holla. I ignored them, too busy looking for Kat. I had been holla'd at a few times that night and most of the guys referred to my thickness. I got "hey, my size," "thick-gyal" some other crudeness which was all quite amusing. The one that topped it all was the guy standing in front of Fridge who asked me if I wanted him to be my host for the evening. Confused as to what the hell a "host" was I ignored him. He was not pleased at my rebuff and then asked me if he could slap my ass. I'm not sure where all the nice in London went, but they were not out on Saturday night. Anyway, back to the Jamaican's at the off license. As we walked past these guys, it was a bombardment. Not sure everything that was said but one of them definitely said that I had a fluffy p*ssy.

Wait, what?

What the f*ck is a fluffy p*ssy????

If someone could tell me I'd be very happy.

Anyway, after that, Kat was very concerned about them. I take it in stride. I'm used to crudeness but I have yet to figure out why I am usually the target of it. She said its because I don't look mean enough.

On the way back past them TWO of them stood directly in my face and asked me for my number. TWO. DIDN'T YOU JUST INSULT ME (or compliment me??? SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE F*CK IS A FLUFFY P*SSY). One said I needed to add him to my bb. Clever, you noticed I have a blackberry. The other followed me with his cell phone in my face asserting that I must put my number in there and that he must call me. He did this all the way to the corner where he saw a police officer and he took flight.

Back in the club it was more liquor (two tequila and cokes and a shot of tequila for good measure). By the time I left, I was drunk and Kat was very worried about me getting home. She sat me at the busstop, told me to not talk to anyone, and watched me curiously as she waited for her bus. I got home fine, without being stalked, mugged, or assaulted, with a story to tell and a question for you ...

WHAT IS A FLUFFY P*SSY?

G'day.

- Tha Management

Kids

2010-07-30T09:00:00.002-04:00

I read a newspaper article in which a child psychologist told a mother, who had been dealing with her sons bad behavior his whole life that her child was a bad kid.

I immediately posted the article to facebook and pronounced, I WAS RIGHT DAMMIT! and did a happy dance. I had debate a while ago with a friend who thought that kids weren't born bad. I blogged about it here. Every single black person I polled said that of course kids are born bad. In fact, one of the mothers said, HELL YES, I got one of my own. My friend than asked me to stop asking black people and move on to white people. They all said that no, children weren't born bad. That led me to make some conclusions and led to more hypotheses, but read the other blog to see what they are. This blog here is about my hesitancy to become a mother.

My disdain at having children started the first time I had a cramp. That bitch hurt. I figured if child birth was worse than that, it wasn't for me.

I don't know how I got rebrainwashed but somehow, I decided that if I was going to have children, I wanted twins so I only had to experience child birth once. I was completely fine with them being genetically engineered by the way and planned on having me and my imaginary husband in vitro fertilizing our test tube kids.

This plan was working great, until I realized I was already brainwashed. Someone taught me "First comes Love, than comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage." I'm going to sound like a cynic so please, put your feet up and listen to my rant.

WHO THE HELL MADE THAT BULLSHIT ASS SONG UP ANYWAY. I'll cut a motherfather dead if they ever teach that to my spawn (IF I HAVE ANY). I believe that marriage much like everything else in life is a blessing. And as is the nature of all blessings, not everyone receives them. So instead of creating this image in children's minds that life is not complete without love marriage and children, teach them a song about how the measure of success in your life is the type of person you are and that you can be happy without those things and having them isn't necessarily a sign that life turned out right for you. It may not be as catchy though.

Rant over.

Anyway, once that happened I was off not only marriage but kids too.

Then, my vanity got in the way ... eff the husband, I wanted some beautiful mini-me's running around getting into shit, being cute like their kick-ass mommy. Decided I was either going to adopt a 7 or 8 year old or I was going to buy some good sperm and get me a baby another way. This was the plan until I started going to therapy.

Therapy was a little too real. I started seeing how my relationship with my parents and the events of my childhood messed up my self esteem. I started thinking about how something so small can have such a lasting impact on a child. Then I started imaging me mistakingly tripping my baby and consequently them turning into a serial killer. That fear took over. I decided then and there that there wasn't going to be any mini-me's running around.

My therapist talked me out of that. She told me that parents make mistakes, but because of the therapy, I'm going to be a great parent and that I shouldn't be afraid of having kids. So where does that leave me now?

I don't know. My main issue with having kids are the factors listed at the top of the article. Kids can be bad. What would I do with a bad kid? I mean, my first instinct when I see/hear bad behavior is to beat a child. I also was a psych major for 2 years so I learned a little about reinforcement and punishment as a behavior modifier. I think I could do ok as a parent ... but not on my own. I'd have to be married. Then I remembered the whole pain of pregnancy thing. I'm not doing that more than once. My solution became very clear.

My current current plan is to find and marry a man with ONE child. Then, if he is really hell bent on my popping out his seedling, I should only have to do it once (since he already has one) and we have a built in baby sitter eventually.

I'm sticking to that.

- Tha Management

300 Pound Finger

2010-07-28T09:05:00.002-04:00

I have this general disdain for going to the doctor and it has on occasion been detrimental to my well-being. There was the cough I had for 3 months in undergrad that turned into bronchitis which led me to need an inhaler. There was the misdiagnosis of seasonal allergies that took 5 years to get clear. There was the belief in a dog allergy that led me to take allergy pills the night my ex had his going away party mixed with lots of shots of liquor and beer and well, foolishness ensued (btw, I'm not allergic to dogs).

So, I am happy to report that this is story is NOT one of those times ... well, eventually it wasn't. Let me explain.

I have this fascination with doing too f*cking much. I can't just stop at enough ... no, I have to go WAY past enough, past stuffed, to doing too much. So I decided to give myself a manicure. I was using nail clippers and I cut the cuticle on my ring finger on my right hand a little too deep. It hurt like a bish and bled a smidge, but I'm a thug so I keep it moving. Painting my fingers a pretty deep purple shade, I go about my business.

A week later, I notice that my finger is turning purple. Strange. I think my finger is infected. Instead of going to the doctor, I let it heal on its own. Why would I go to the doctor for something like this.

Week later, my finger is now twice as big, its purple and green, and throbs with pain. I decide NOW is the time to go to the doctor. When I get there they tell me to soak my finger in warm water and it will stop being infected. I either soak it in warm water or they cut my finger open. I almost yelled "FAHK YOU" at the doctor for suggesting I willingly allow them to slice me open while I'm watching them, get me a cup of water and keep it moving.

A week later, my finger is three times the size. People are now beginning to notice. I mean, it could be because I cursed every 10 seconds because my finger lightly touched something, or it could be the million bandages that I wrapped around my finger, or it could be the fact that I would stiff arm people who weren't paying attention to where they were going and almost bumped into my hand.

Maybe.

I decided to go back to the doctor again. They took another look at my ginormous finger, repeat my options (warm water soak or slicing my finger open), and I give them another finger to look at as I walk out of the office.

A week later, my finger is 50% green and 50% purple. My nail has started to die or something and its turned a weird color and has grown a lump on it (literally, a huge lump grew on my nail). The rest of my finger looks emaciated. People now call me gross to my face ... my life is getting worse but there is no hope. Well, there is a glimmer, I now can't feel anything. Finger doesn't hurt anymore and I'm assuming its because the pressure from the infection has suppressed my nerves.

The next part is gross, but you should read on anyway. Don't read this if you just ate though ...

I decide I'm going to poke my finger with a needle to see if that helps release the pressure. I tentatively poked once and felt nothing. This gives me to courage to poke again and again. Nothing is happening. No liquid is coming out, no blood. I apply a little pressure, and still, nothing. I wrap my finger back up in the bandage and walk out of my room to go to the dining hall.

As I walk down the hallway a curious thing happens, my finger explodes.

A visual.

It feels like a giant release of pressure and blood and puss is now dripping from my finger. I retreat to my room when I spend the next however long depussing my finger. My nail subsequently falls off the next week and all the skin around where the infection was dies and peels away. Took about 3 months for me to fully recover from the infection.

I constantly look at my finger and wonder, what the hell possessed me to cut my cuticles that deep that day. I was reminded of this story because I recently stabbed myself in the arm (which led to more gushing blood) trying to figure out what a bump was on my arm (I get keloids so I should have been satisfied with that as the explanation for the bump but of course, I wasn't).

Silly me.

- Tha Management

Pimpin' All Over the World

2010-07-26T13:40:00.000-04:00

Hello! Do ya'll remember me? The lying blogger who said they'd start posting more regularly? Well, my bad and ish. I make no more promises on my blog, so I shall lie no longer. If I post I post if not, well, yea ...

One thing is true though, I won't be quitting anytime soon. Even though I can't guarantee a set schedule, I'm still going to post. Hopefully I can at least get it to one time a week (don't hold me to that).

So, on to the ACTUAL post.

--------------------------------------

London is like the US. I don't know any better way to describe it. I'm starting to really understand that there are only a few differences between the more industrialized nations of the world. We have different governments (based on the same principals), different money, and different accents ... and well, everything else is much the same.

So of course I'm the same too right?

Been in London 3 weeks and I've met a few guys. I was actually surprised by this because I spend 75% of my day either in class or in my flat. (Side note: Undergrad summer abroad programs must be different than law school summer abroad programs because I do work. My "Vacation with a little bit of school" dreams turned into "Lots of Classwork, you get to see London on the bus to and from studying" bull).

So you guys know the foolishness I routinely deal with in the US right? I'd like to juxtapose that with what I've experienced out here.

The "Holla"

US Holla: (From 70 feet away) AY, YO, DAMN GIRL YOU SEXY, WHATCHONAMEIS?

London: (From the position they've strategically gotten next to you) Hello luv/beautiful. How are you today?

I know right. Let me clarify what I'm trying to say, EVEN THE BUSTED ONES GOT MANNERS. Hell, I thought the first dude who tried to holla at me was just having a pleasant conversation about my day and then he asked me for my phone number. I was shocked.

A quick story if you will:

Walking into the H&M a guy told me I had dropped something. I routinely drop/knock shit over/hit people with my bag, so I followed him to the item. He picks up something from the floor and I hold my hand out for the item, which he in turn grabs and tells me "Hello luv, you are gorgeous, you forgot me." Say what???? I laughed and asked for my hand back. He was clever. Short, and crazy (he asked me for my number and then took a paparazzi photo of me with his iPhone 2 seconds later) but clever.

Dealing with Rejection:

US Dude: This actually takes many forms. You could get called a bitch or they understand I won't make blanket statements about the men in the US's ability to deal with rejection

London Dude: The same.

I've turned down a few guys since I got here for a plethora of reasons. Most of the guys have been pleasant about the whole thing, but I did get the guy who blocked my path (he was driving and I was walking and had to cross the street but he wouldn't let me pass) until I yelled NO! at him. Oh well. Somethings don't change.

Getting to Know You:

US Dude: (text msg) Hey Sxy. Rmbr me from the other day. Wassup w/ u?

London Dude: (telephone call) Hi, how are you? I was wondering what you are doing, I'd like to take you out tonight.

Now, once again I'm making a generalization about US men. I have been called and asked out, but the majority of times (and sometimes from my own instigation) the primary means of talking has been by text. I have not gotten a single text message from a guy in London yet. I've gotten called, asked about my day, and attempts to make dates, but nan texts. I think texts may be taboo actually. A quick story (LOL)

Walking home from the busstop (which so happens be up a huge hill that I dread everyday) I see this beautiful Iraqi* (looking) guy. (Sidenote: 2 things you should know about me, I date outside my race and I see fine men in every ethnicity.) Iraq asks me if I know the location of a house in my neighborhood, which I do not. He also asks me if I'm ok, because I was scowling when I finally got into my neighborhood (I told you that hill was a bastard). After identifying that I'm American and that I'm only staying in London for another 3 weeks (btw, every guy has asked me this and EVERY ONE responds/looks bummed out when I tell them I'm leaving soon. Hell some of them ask me if I'm ever coming back) he asks if he can still call me anyway and maybe take me out. We exchange numbers. I may have made a faux pas though. I texted him later. I'm not sure what the protocol/dynamic is between male/female relationships in the UK but is it a more old fashioned system? Idk. All I know is that Iraq and I haven't talked since that fateful day ... true, its only been 3 days, but I miss him already (LMAO).

I haven't actually gone a date with anyone, or had a serious conversation either. This can be contributed to a few factors (School, lack of desire, Reggie becoming more of a constant in my life) but I may eventually for research purposes. I also think I need to slow down on giving out my London number because I can't understand accents as well on the telephone and I never know who the hell I'm talking to when I get a call. Oh well.

- Tha Management

*Do you know who Naveen Andrews is? He played Sayid in Lost. He looked like he could have been related to him. I think Sayid is GORGEOUS and I watched Lost just to look at him and Jin (who is Korean)'s fine asses. I've attached photo documentation below.

Naveen

Jin

London Living

2010-07-12T19:24:00.000-04:00

I'm alive! I'm still getting the swing of things so this is definitely an incomplete post, but I wanted to give you the heads up that I will be posting more regularly once I can make it 16 hours without taking a nap. A few minor things:

1. One of my teachers is hot and it makes it hard to concentrate on the subject that he's teaching.
2. Shopping in London is so extremely kick-ass and mediocre at the same time.
3. Living off-campus is making it difficult for me to bond with my classmates but my accommodations are so much better the trade off is well worth it.
4. It takes me a second to internally translate what people are saying to me because US slang and London slang are so different.
5. Not all British accents are cool. I seriously heard the woman with the most annoying voice talk and it was like screeching. I'd trade that for a sexy Mississippi accent any day.
6. When you need to go to the bathroom, you ask for the toilet. I find this very off-putting.
7. My iPad makes me the coolest kid in my class. I never turn on my laptop and get irritated when I have to.
8. I have yet to conquer jet lag but I'm taking a no-doz tomorrow so I'm not up at 3am like I was yesterday (and probably will be today).
9. I've heard every language/accent in the world in London. Its very thrilling and culturally enlightening.
10. Riding on the top of a double decker bus seems much cooler than it actually is.

A real post is coming soon, I promise. Until then ...

CHEERS!

- Tha Mgmt

No, I'm not Deceased

2010-06-29T09:58:00.001-04:00

I actually have been super busy at work and haven't had a chance to write blog posts. I have a few brewing in my head though, so I'm probably going to have something to say soon. Also, next Thursday is when I leave for London so I should definitely be blogging when I'm out there too. So no "post" today, but the next one is a milestone (kinda) it will be 150th post. Yay!!!!

- Tha Management

#4's Picture Emporium

2010-06-21T13:03:00.001-04:00

Since I was a child, I've named most of my inanimate objects. This is mainly due to the fact that my brothers refused to play with me so I played by myself with my teddy bears and ... you know what, I'm going to just pocket that story for my therapist ...

Anyway, this is my 4th blackberry so I call it #4. Queen Latifah was talking ish about how she isn't very connected to the internet. I admired her for that and thought, maybe I should stop whipping out #4 every time I see some crazy ish ... NOPE. If I did that I wouldn't have a blog to post today.

#1 - The Gummy Bear Army

Caption**: "Look at My Gummy Bear Army ... Kill me now"

During final's I may have lost my mind. This is the gummy bear army that I created while in the middle of one of my mental breakdowns. Please not that they are lined up by color and that I chose this order deliberately as I only had one red gummy bear so it had to be the center of the line. They protected me from the crazy schizophrenic thoughts I was having until I ate them.

#2 - Target Thievery

Caption: "Ain't Nothing in the Target Worth Your Dignity"

I was leaving the Target in Columbia Heights, contemplating why I even came when I know Target is my crack when I was bumped into by a police officer. #RUDE. That's when I noticed that he was escorting a latina woman out of the store, most likely for shoplifting. I was very close behind them so I took a picture. Sucks for you.

#3 - Jill and Maxwell Concert

Jilly from Philly

Maxwell from Brooklyn ... Can't make that rhyme, oh well

The concert was great. Floor seats are definitely the only way I'm watching a concert from now on. I have just upped my bougie factor by 2.3%. If I'm not close enough to get sweat on them I'm not going. BTW, for anyone who says that Maxwell is gay, you're just wrong. Ain't nothing about him reads anything but "P*ssy Eating Connoisseur." He told the men in the audience, "I'm just an appetizer, you the main course. If you can't get none tonight after this show, something just wrong with ya."

Dear Maxwell,

I'd like to be your appetizer, main course, dessert, and breakfast the next morning -- well brunch, we may still be busy at "breakfast" time.

xoxo, Tha Management

#5 - Sports Authority Shopping Spree

Ugly New Sneakers

Shake Weight

My job has a $200 reimbursement for sporting equipment every year and I wanted to get mine before I quit ... #swindle. So I went to SA to get some ish. I bought those ugly ass sneakers pictured above and debated the sales girl for 10 minutes about how ugly they were. She refused to agree with me just because she owned a pair. It ain't my fault she has bad taste in shoes. I would have bought Nike Shox, but those are the WORST running shoes ever. No need to look cute with broken ankles.

I also saw that the shake weight had gone mainstream. I sent that pic to my boo* and he was like, "YES, PLEASE BUY." Hell no. Plus it was so light. If it were a 5lb shake weight than I may have thought about it because that would be an awesome tricep exercise ...

#5 - Yellow Watermelon

Ummm, WTF IS THIS???

Dear Global Warming,

Are you responsible for this? I don't know what you did to my wonderful watermelon but YOU STOP IT RIGHT NOW. I don't go around turning fine men Green do I? That didn't make sense BUT WHO CARES??? Why would you change the color of something so good and pure! Eff you if its your fault. If its not, my bad, you've been getting a bad rap lately -- please forward to Pollution, Evolution, or BP as needed.

xoxo, Tha Management

#6 - Obesity's Shopping Cart

Caption: This Lady is making her family Diabetes for Dinner

Do you see that cart? Let me point out some key items.

- Ice Pops (aka Sugar Diabetes)

- Hawaiin Punch (aka Sugar Diabetes)

- Multiple Color Juices (aka Red, Purple, Orange Drank ... bka Sugar Diabetes)

- A Frozen Apple Pie (aka ... you know what I'm going to say)

- Frozen Pizza's (aka Hypertension)

- UTZ Potato Chips (aka Hypertension)

This was not a petite woman and I had an inkling that her family was not petite either. Sigh. I don't EVER want to sound prejudicial. Hell, I'm a chubster myself, but if you want you and your family to live another 20 years, you gon have to do a revamp of your cart. #imjustsaying.

#6 - Cobblered

Mixed Berry

Cherry

I had enough Cherries and Strawberries to make two more cobblers. I brought the mixed berry to work today. I don't think I let them cook long enough because they fruit didn't break down as much as it did the last time, but the mixed berry was delicious anyway. Yum!

**I made a rule that if I'm going to eat food that is typically categorized as bad for you then I would have to cook it myself. That's why I can eat fresh cobbler with no remorse because I made the whole thing from scratch.**

#7 - Hanging Ass Cheeks

You should known something was wrong when you felt the breeze on your vageen

Dear Wearers of Too-Short Shorts,

We need to talk. I don't want to sound mean because you may not understand and the last thing I want to do is to confuse you further. I want to let you know how you can tell your shorts are too short to wear outside of the house. This way, you don't do it again -- because in the end, its embarrassing for you and uncomfortable for me.

1. You can feel a breeze on your cooter.
2. When you bend over, you can grab any booty meat
3. When the draws you are wearing are peaking out of the bottom of your shorts
4. When you can't wear draws because of how small your shorts are

And some tips if you do have too short shorts on:

- Don't bend over or sit down. I do not want everything to be contaminated by your ass cheek sweat.
- Don't stand directly in front of people who are eye level to your ass on the metro. Its very difficult trying to figure out where to look when there is ass in your face.
- Just because they are made of denim does not mean that they are able to be warn outside of the house.
- Don't wear too short shorts.

I hope this helps. Oh and Donda, I'm looking at you and your brethren.

xoxo, Tha Management

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ok, so maybe I forgot to write blogs for this week and this is the laziest post ever ... no worries, you enjoyed it right???

- Tha Management

*I kinda sorta got a boo. I will not discuss further as I'm on a "no expectations" kick.

**Caption means I posted this picture online (either via Twitter --ThaMgmt-- or Facebook) and that's the caption I posted it with.

Randoms

2010-06-18T09:00:00.002-04:00

Not enough for their own post, here is my minds flatulence.

1. Train Singers

Two teenage boys got onto the metro, sat down, and started to croon. They sounded great. They harmonized, hit notes, even did a falsetto. My internal reaction: "shut the f*ck up." This is not 1992, this is not a street corner in West Philly, and you are not Boy II Men. Sigh. I was in a bad mood today.

After I thought about the fact that these kids basically went from train to train singing acapella I didn't know how to feel anymore. I was both impressed, irritated, and perplexed. I honestly couldn't find a purpose for them doing this besides them trying to get a record deal. They didn't have a cup or hat to collect change, they didn't make eye contact, they didn't move around or anything. No one was taping them for youtube. They were just there singing. The combination of their random dedication, their pointlessness, and their dress (ahh how I hate the way the youth in DC dresses) made them the most random part of my day.

2. Sexy Tear Gas Gun Toting Cop

Coming back from Gallery Place on Friday evening at 9:30 proved to be interesting. As we left the movie theater we noticed that there was a ridiculous amount of teenagers around. It was before the 10pm curfew in DC and we saw why this was instituted to begin with. A few kids were blocking our entrance to the turnstyle at the metro when a cop toting a tear gas gun or something yells, CLEAR OUT and all the kids scatter. He wah fahn (he was fine). Next time, I'm going to ask him if I can touch his gun.

I am consistently astounded by the amount of gay black boys in DC. I'm not upset by them just impressed by the sheer number of them, their desire to be extremely feminine, their half shirts and skinny jeans, their love of high top fades, and their moxy.

3. Susie Homemaker with a 'tude

I joined Weight Watchers online but I'm not good at it yet (meaning I don't know how to use it yet). I'm taking the necessary steps to learn but first, I have to get rid of some food thats milling around my house (yes, that's my excuse to eat bad ish for another week). I went grocery shopping this weekend and my dad bought me cherries, which I dislike. I'm on a mission to not let things go bad in my fridge anymore (yes, this happens to me quite often) so I looked around in the huge cookbook I own for something to do with my cherries. I settled on making them into a cobbler and MAN it turned out good. I always feel a sense of accomplishment when I make something from scratch and I felt extra special because I turned something that I don't love into something delicious. Yes, I also happened to ruin all the great nutritional aspects of the cherry in the process but, you know, details.

4. The Boondocks Sunday was Epic

People have been complaining that the Boondocks fell off this season but I disagree. I've enjoyed every episode simple because I have decided not to over analyze them. Over thinking often ruins comedy. Sunday's episode did not disappoint. I laughed out loud when Riley said "My president is black and my lambo is blue." Kudos Boondocks, kudos.

5. Married Men Flirting

My cable has been messing up, so I had to have a technician come out to my house. He started to innocently flirt as soon as I opened my door. The ring on his finger was very apparent and the flirting was harmless. Still, I don't know how comfortable I'd be as a wife if my husband flirted that openly with a girl in her apartment alone. It was the perfect story line for a porn. Note to self: don't date cable technicians.

6. London

Plane ticket bought, flat paid for. I just need a text book and I'm ready to go. Holllaaarrrrrr. Last day of work: July 6th.

7. Follow-Up from Monday's Cougarette post and Mean Girl

Man, he may be fine, but he's annoying as hell. 6 years is too big of an age gap. He whines and has bad taste in ... well ... everything. The guy from Mean Girl called and left a message but no telephone number to return his call ... and he never called back. I don't even need to do anything, these guys have been eliminating themselves.

Much ado about nothing (at all). My life is average.

- Tha Management

Why So Serious?

2010-06-16T09:00:00.000-04:00

I came to look at my blog last Monday and saw that one of the pictures that I had used to show what one of the products I use looked like had been replaced by a giant gif of a middle finger calling me a thief.

Excuse me?

At first, I was a little perplexed. I didn't even know how one could turn a picture I copied and pasted, into a moving gif complete with accusations and middle fingers. Then, I was irritated because I had to go back into my blog, change the picture of the Ambi products that I had copied and pasted onto my post and repost it. Then, I was damn tickled about the whole thing.

If I could have tracked down the person who changed the picture, I would have sent them the following picture:

Ok, that's actually a little creepy, but if there was a tamer, not so scary version of that, that's what I would have sent them, along with this note.

Dear Website Owner,

I know that plagiarism is a serious thing and it must be frustrating when your original work is taken without credit given to you. I have a feeling that in the past, someone must have done this to you, turning you into a cynical person who feels the need to protect all the pictures that you post on your blog. I completely understand how you must have felt and what must have led you to create the .gif that greeted me on my wall on Monday after I used a picture from your site. All that being said, IT WAS A PICTURE OF AMBI. You did the EXACT same thing that I did to get that picture. You probably put "AMBI" into Google, clicked the images tab, found a picture that suited your needs, and pasted it on your site. I'm not saying that what I did was right or wrong. You are valid that I did in fact not credit you for where I got that picture. But in the same respect, you did not credit the photographer who originally was paid by Ambi to take a picture of their product.

I guess my real question is, why do you care so very much? It doesn't make sense to me why you'd get mad that I did what you are doing and I'd like to understand you more. I have learned a valuable lesson from you though ... I'll be saving the pictures I use in my blog to my desktop then reposting them so none of these shenanigans can occur in the future.

- Tha Management

Cougarette

2010-06-14T09:00:00.000-04:00

A few months ago, I wrote about restarting a roster. What a foolish girl I am. I quickly abandoned that idea. What time do I have for a boyfriend? So I've been content with just talking to two guys who keep my interest but don't demand much of my physical time. Besides a few hours here and there on the phone, I pretty much keep to myself ...

I was anxiously waiting for a delivery guy outside of my building last month when I see this really cute, tall guy walking up the street. He smiled at me. I smiled back. He walks up to my building and asks me my name. I tell him. I notice the honey brown complexion, short sandy blond hair, and green eyes (yes, he's black). Then I notice he's 6'2". My heart flutters a little bit ... he is FINE.

He looks like a younger version of Gary Dourdan with lighter hair

Sidenote: Fine is my weakness. I let a lot of dumbsh*t slip that I shouldn't for fine. I feel like men are like this for a fat *ss or huge boobs.

Fine and I engage in small talk but something about him seems ... off. I ask him how old he is and he says 19. I clutch my pears. That's what's off. HE'S AN INFANT. He still got his momma's milk on his breath. What is 25 year old me going to do with this tall sexy fine 19 year old??? I told him that he was very young and he says, "I turn 20 next month." Sigh. What's a girl to do?

He later texts me to tell me that I'm gorgeous and he hopes we can get to know each other. YEA, HE GOT THE NUMBER. YOU WOULD HAVE GIVEN HIM YOURS TOO.

We text back and forth and he calls me but it's finals time and you all know how I was back then. When I get my head back above water, I'm never home. We talk for a few minutes while I'm in Puerto Rico but nothing really happens. He consistently texts though but I push him off to the side. I mean, what is he going to add? I got the good conversation covered with Reggie and Mr. MS. I don't need another guy around. Right?

Kinda. You ever heard the song, "I Need You" by Jill Scott? She talks about all the things she can do by herself, the strong *ss woman she can be, but that she still needs her man. I am Jill Scott in that song. I can do anything, but that don't mean having a man around every now and again isn't helpful.

"I could be a doctor and a lawyer and a mother and a good girl

God what you've done to me

Kind of lover I could be

I could be a computer analyst, the Queen with the nappy hair raising her fist

Or I could be much more and a myriad of this

Hot as the summer, sweet as the first kiss

And even though I can do all these things

I need you"

I noticed that having a man around would be especially helpful last night when I needed to take my trash out. Then I get a text from Fine, "Can I see you tonight?"

I look at the bags of trash and then at my cellphone. I make the call, "Do you want to take a walk with me? I have to take my trash out and go to the store." 30 minutes later, I see Fine walking up the street.

I guess not seeing him for over a month made me forget how fine Fine is. Let me reiterate:

They could be his brothers.

Siigggghhhh.

Fine graciously helped me take out my trash. He walked me to the store and carried the 2.5 gallons of water back to the house for me. He watched me change the water for my fish. We watched a movie together. We laughed about random things and over and over again he reminded me that we are in two different places and that there is a *cough* 6 year age difference *cough* between us. We just don't have much in common with what we are doing in our lives. When he kissed me though, I forgot how old he was again. He was just so damn smooth. And then I kicked him out. Fine or not, you can't be coming up in my house kissing on me like you know me ...

I'm making him cookies tonight ... SHUTUP.

- Tha Management

Mean Girl

2010-06-11T09:00:00.001-04:00

I went to Union Station on Tuesday to grab lunch on the way back from school. There were so many people in that bad boy it made me itch* ... I bought my lunch and started walking toward the metro when a guy came up to talk to me. I gave him the once over and was unimpressed. He was tall, had a nice deep chocolate complexion, a meh face, was dressed meh, and was oily looking. Well, I originally described him as greasy -- lets stick with that. He was greasy looking. I wanted to give him a napkin to wipe his face.

While being distracted by my reflection in his forehead, he politely asked me my name. I had to make a few snap judgments because I didn't know if I wanted him to know my name. I begrudgingly told him my name. He told me I was gorgeous and asked if I wanted to go out sometime ... I mulled this over in my head. I literally stared at him an assessed whether or not I wanted to (I felt bad about this afterward, who has to wait while they get appraised by a person they are trying to impress - #RUDE). I said yes and he pulled out a piece of paper to write down my number. He said his cell phone died -- my eyebrow raised and I frowned simultaneously -- so I tried to get his phone number with the promise of "I'll holla" even though I KNEW I wouldn't. He didn't care and asked me for my number again, which I gave him and I ran to catch the train.

I called Donda and recapped the story and wondered, am I mean? I mean, besides his greasiness and general unimpressive appearance, wasn't nothing wrong with dude. She told me that I'm not mean, but that I may have been a little superficial. I agreed.

Lately, I haven't been giving many men a chance. I'm also not lamenting about being single or hitting the whoa is me button on my internal clock. I don't think I really want to date. It sounds nice but my life isn't really in a great place for a boyfriend. All I think about wanting a man around for is ... well ... intimacy. Every now again, come around and make me feel like a woman and then leave me alone (and I got that covered).

Greasy seemed like an ok dude and I really should be more open to talk to him. He did everything right so far so I should give him more of a chance? Right? Well, idk. I'm not at a place in my life where mediocrity is going to grab my attention. Nice guy he may be but I feel like I'd be compromising since he didn't pull me 100% physically. Its like, in order for me to date you, you gotta be a more complete package, something that I'd be remiss to walk away from. I'm not remiss to never talk to Greasy again. He may have done everything right, but he was wrong.

But I'll make him an experiment. I'm going to give him a chance and see if he surprises me. Maybe my instincts are leading me wrong. He may just be the dude I didn't assume he was -- somehow I doubt it though.

- Tha Management

*I hate crowded malls and stores. Being in an enclosed space with that many people makes me uncomfortable. I avoid it like the plague.

When We Get By - An Ode to Love Songs

2010-06-09T09:00:00.022-04:00

I love love songs. Love songs and romantic comedies are the reasons why I will always be a romantic. Singing about love and being in love are two completely separate things though. I've been in love a few times (that one love for every person thing isn't real. You can love anyone ... and stop loving them too) and the only two love songs that echoed what being in love felt like to me were, Ordinary People and Down Here in Hell with You.

Word to lyrics and video:

Ordinary People

Girl im in love with you

This ain't the honeymoon

Past the infatuation phase

Right in the thick of love

At times we get sick of love

It seems like we argue everyday

I know I misbehaved

And you made your mistakes

And we both still got room left to grow

And though love sometimes hurts

I still put you first

And we'll make this thing work

But I think we should take it slow

(Note, John Legend sangs about love. The truest lyrics he ever wrote about love were from "Save Room" -- This just might hurt a little/ Love hurts sometimes when you do it right/ Don't be afraid of a little bit of pain/ Pleasure is on the other side)

Down Here in Hell With You

I really love it when,

I love it when we make mistakes

Because once again,

It gives me a reason to complain.I love the battle lines,

the battle lines we draw when crossin the mud

Ooo I love it when we fight,

standing on the verge of breaking up or making love

What would I do if we were perfect,

where would I go for disappointment.

Love without pain would leave me wonderin why i stay

I think of saving myself,

but with nothing to complain about up in heaven,

what would I do

I think of saving myself,

but I really wanna work it out

down here in hell with you


Magic carpet ride

See it don't have to last forever

I know we shouldn't fly so high

But the closer to the sun we go, the better

See I wanna make you feel the fire,

wanna I burn you with my bad days,

Ooo I wanna be unsatisfied,

so you can feel the heat comin from me...baby.

Now THAT'S more like it.

But love songs aren't always so damn real, and even when they aren't they can still be awesome.  Here are a few non-mainstream (emphasis added) love songs that I love. Feel free to tell me a few of your favorites in the comments section.

I'm In Love With You (Erykah Badu ft. Stephen Marley)

Lyrics to Note (THE WHOLE DAMN SONG, lol)

And she said she needs more than a friend

Thats all I've ever been yo

Well, one said when are you gon overstand

And I remember the first day that we met ya

How could I forget cha

When you smile and I turned and I say to you yo

yo your pure and true

I'm in love wit you

I'm so in love baby

I dont care what your mama say

Standing in love baby

I dont care what your sister say

I need you

He said he's really digging me

I dont know what to say

I cant imagine why I feel

so weak
say, say

thats when he took my heart in his hands

and kissed it gently

He opened up his lips

then said this poetry

I'm in love wit you

 I'm so in love baby

I dont care what your brother say

I'm so in love baby

I dont care what the people say

When We Get By (D'Angelo)

Lyrics to Note (the whole song is notable but the second verse is my favorite):

when we get by,

we'll make it by,

when we get by with love

i look in your eyes,

i look in your eyes

They're pretty as the skies above

Everything, everything, everything is okay

we could make love in the shade,

sip some chocolate lemonade

You're so fine,

and the day is fine,

and we'll be fine

when we get by and we make it by with love

Beautiful Surprise (India.Arie)

Lyrics to Note (Once again the whole damn song):

It's like yesterday

I didn't even know your name

Now today

You're always on my mind

I never could have predicted that I feel this way

You are beautiful surprise

Intoxicated every time I hear your voice

You've got me on a natural high

It's almost like I didn't even have a choice

You are a beautiful surprise

Whatever it is you came to teach me

I am here to learn it cause

I believe that we are written in the stars

I don't know what the future holds

But I'm living in the moment

And I'm thankful for the man that you are, you are, you are

You are everything I ask for in my prayers

So I know my angels brought you to my life

Your energy is healing to my soul

You are a beautiful surprise

You are an inspiration to my life

You are the reason why I smile

You are a beautiful surprise

These songs make me fall in love with love all over again.  What are your favorites?

- Tha Management

Brand Loyal

2010-06-07T09:00:00.009-04:00

I am the perfect customer because once I like a brand of something I never change it. Ever. If you discontinue something I need in my life (or even slightly tweek it) I get kinda upset because I like what I like. Here are a few staples in my life that I will never turn my back on.

1. Colgate Total Toothpaste

Other toothpaste tastes gross and doesn't clean my teeth right. Argue you with me if you want, but I'll be buying Colgate Total forever.

2. Vaseline lotion (either Cocoa Butter or Intensive Care)

Moisturizes without the sticky lotiony after feeling that pisses me off.

3. Cantu Shea Butter and Natural Oasis Lotion

This is my one-two punch to keep my hair moisturized and pretty. I just got another relaxer (stretched that thang out 5 months) and my stylist said that I need to keep doing what I'm doing because my hair was super healthy. I honestly won't be doing or using any other products (although I do slide in a hot oil/silk treatment after a shampoo wash).

4. Sephora FACE spf 15 age prevention moisturizer, Ambi foaming face wash and face cream w/ spf 30, and Queen Helene Cocoa Butter Scrub

I use these every morning to keep my face clean and moisturized. I use the Queen Helene twice a week (instructions say you can use it more often. Since its Natural, its not as harsh on your face as others) and the Ambi face wash every day. I use the moisturizers at the same time. I mix a dab of both together and put it on. The Ambi face cream is a little heavy though, so if you don't like looking shiny at the end of the day, just use the Sephora FACE (which is amazing).

5. Very Irresistible Body Lotion and Perfume

THIS IS MY ISH. I have always been a person that must have a "signature scent." I want to have a smell that when I walk by everyone knows that its me ... call me vain if you must. Very Irresistible has been that smell. Its very sexy but not overly girly and stays with you for a long time. This is a winner.

6. Maybelline Define a Brow pencil #642

I was so lucky to have found these eyebrow pencils. The only issue is that this shade is not always sold in stores. If I see them in mass quantity, I always buy a million and keep them on hand because when they run out, I don't have anything comparable to fill in my eyebrows, which sucks.

7. Maybelline Ultra Liner Waterproof Liquid Liner (brown)

I find that black liner during the day is too harsh on me. My daily makeup routine consists of moisturizer, filling in my eyebrows, brown liner over my top lid, and mascara. If I remember to dab on some lip balm, I use Victoria's Secret (the one that comes in the tin can) because it shines and moisturizes. I'm a makeup minimalist.

8. Dove Gentle Exfoliating Body Wash

I love this ish. Leaves my skin feeling clean yet soft, no yucky soap scum after feeling. I do use two different body washes at times but I haven't found a second body wash that I'd buy consistently.

So there are a few things I love and generally can't live without. Feel free to try any on my recommendation and tell me what you think.

- Tha Management

No Post Today

2010-06-04T09:00:00.002-04:00

I mistakenly posted twice on Wednesday and Blogger wouldn't let me take it back. Stupid blogger.

Closure

2010-06-04T09:00:00.001-04:00

*Cues Gerald Levert*

Girl meets guy. Guy and girl date. Guy breaks up with girl. Girl must talk to guy to understand what happened because she needs "closure." (Feel free to reverse girl for guy as Gerald so crooningly mentions above, guys need closure too)

I'm here to make a blanket statement to every man woman and child out there. Closure is bullsh*t.

Don't side-eye me! You know I'm right. What "closure" is, is a person who can't let go from pain. Do I sound harsh? I don't mean to be ... I'm actually trying to be helpful here. Hear me out.

I know when someone who you invested your emotions and time into hurts you, it is not easy to move on from there. Its hard to think that the expectations you had for that other person were not met. Hell, even if you didn't have expectations for that person, it still hurts to love and lose. And you want to know why. It makes sense to want to know how someone you cared about didn't feel the same way about you, or just didn't care enough about you to not hurt you.

I'm not saying that its not an emotion I can't understand, but it is completely unnecessary for the following reason:

A person hurting you has little to no effect on how YOU deal with YOUR pain.

To reiterate one of the most profound realizations I've ever had in life, a person will show you who they are from the moment you meet them. Stop looking at someone and seeing who you want them to be (i.e. potential) and start seeing people for who they really are.

So here is a list of reasons why you shouldn't need closure - ever

1. As stated earlier - a person hurting you has little to no effect on how you deal with your pain. A breakup could feel like a beesting or being hit by a bulldozer. It all depends on how you handle it. You can take the positive approach and thank goodness that this person who is clearly not the one for you, has taken the opportunity to show himself out the door OR you can lament on how horrible it is that they hurt you, and start dissecting yourself to figure out what's wrong with you, etc. If you start blaming yourself for your breakup, then you probably are going to be hurt for longer. This leads me to my next point.

2. Maybe you are to blame - there is a good chance that you are the reason why your relationship did not work out. You may have been too bossy in his opinion, you may have not trusted him in his opinion, you may have done something completely random in his opinion. NONE OF THIS MATTERS BECAUSE ITS HIS SUBJECTIVE OPINION. You should be happy in who you are. If you are bossy, there are two things you can do, you can embrace your bossiness, or you can fight tooth and nail to stop being bossy. Both of those decisions are internal choices that you make about you. What does he have to do with it? If you like yourself, then nothing he tells you should change who you are and if you don't like yourself, you probably shouldn't have been in a relationship to begin with. Let me say that again in case you missed it:

IF YOU DON'T LIKE YOURSELF, YOU PROBABLY SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP TO BEGIN WITH

3. All closure is, is a conversation - nothing miraculous is going to come from that conversation. If you have somethings you need to get off your chest, write them down and read them to yourself. If you have questions about what may have went wrong, talk to yourself or a therapist about them. If you want to curse scream, kick and shout, tape his picture to a mirror and go at it ... but he isn't going to make you feel better, he isn't going to change his mind, and he isn't going to put your worries to rest ...

4. If you think you need closure, most likely you need something more than that (validation, explanations, another chance) and he isn't going to give you that.

I hope this post was right on time for someone. I was talking to my girlfriend and this guy she was dating was a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. She just kept saying she wanted to talk to him one more time, she just needed to understand why and I tried to explain all these things to her ...

If he hurt you, then he's already given you all the answers you need.

- Tha Management

*Read this awesome post about settling for crap on VSB about having Ugly Girl Problems. It may sound harsh but I dug it because I agreed that woman are told to settle and that is a huge no-no, know your worth.

Two videos for you, both Talib Kweli:

We Know (feat. Faith Evans)
Lyric to note:
"Kneelin' and praying that the lord in us will help us love ourselves
So much that the confidence attract to someone else"

Black Girl Pain
Lyric to note:
"For surviving thru every lie they put into us now
The world is yours and I swear I will stand focused
Black girls, raise up your hands; the world should clap for us"

Puerto Rico - Hooo!

2010-06-02T09:00:00.000-04:00

My trip to Puerto Rico was ... busy. It also went by super fast. I think there was a moment when we all thought it was Thursday and $1 drink night and it ended up being Friday. No liquor for us (upside down smiley face). I also forgot my camera at home. All of the pictures on the blog (except for the fake bio bay pics) are from Kang Blackberry.

We arrived on Monday and our hotel was beautiful. If you go to Puerto Rico, stay there. It was the Marriot San Juan (in Condado). It was on the beach, and was a beautiful ocean view room. It was spacious, clean, and nice. They clean their sectioned off part of the beach every night and provide free beach chairs and umbrellas.

View from our Balcony of the Beach

We went to eat a restauarant called "Drangonfly" which was a Chino-Latino place in old San Juan. It was great. One thing to take note of, there is a HUGE difference between the speed at which food is delivered in the contiguous states and Puerto Rico. The shortest wait time we had was 30 minutes -- the longest, an hour and a half (no bs).

Tuesday morning everyone went to the spa and I stayed at the hotel. I spent most of the day asleep. It was beautiful. I honestly can't remember anything else about that day.

Wednesday was an 8 hour snorkleing and picnic lunch trip. We booked it through Viator.com and it was the best thing we did on the island (in my opinion). We were picked up from our hotel at 8:00am drove for an hour through Puerto Rico to Farajdo were we boarded the boat. The crew was funny cute and laid back and they served alcohol (weak alcohol, but alcohol none the less) and an awesome picnic lunch. They took us to Icacos island and we swam there for 2-3 hours and had lunch, then we went over to the reef and swam in the middle of the ocean. My swimming lessons paid off because I did it! I even jumped off the side of the boat (that was scary as hell but I'm a trooper). The weather was so-so though which was the only downfall. I took this picture on the boat so you can see it was definitely dreary outside.

Snorkeling and Picnic Tour

Thursday we went to visit the forts in Old San Juan. This was also fantastic. It was also cheap ($5 to visit both forts). I sometimes think I want to be a photographer so I borrowed Dondasaurus's camera for a lot of picture taking. I forgot to upload her pics though, so once again, Kang Blackberry has some artistic shots for you to peruse.

Fort San Cristobal

Cont.

El Morro

People in the way

Side of El Morro

Then the sky opened up and drenched Donda and me as we walked from one fort back to the other. 7 blocks, pouring rain, white shirt. My new chucks now smell like yucks (ha ha ha).

Friday morning we went to a restaurant called "La Bombanera" which was featured on Rachel Ray's $40 dollars a day. It was great! If you visit PR, def eat there for breakfast (we didn't eat lunch there). I don't remember what we did during the day Friday but that night I met Sugahoney from Naked and Natural who also happened to be in PR for the holday weekend. That made my night! We met up at Senor Frogs which was a bar, but they had a cover charge ... No siree. We took a pic (which I don't have) and parted ways. We then tried to go to another bar/club but couldn't find one in the area. Defeated we went back to the hotel room and went to bed.

Saturday we ate lunch/dinner (Linner or Dunch) at a Puerto Rican restaurant in Condado a couple of blocks from our hotel. This is where we waited for an hour + for our food to come out, BUT the food was delicious. They had authentic Puerto Rican dishes there which is great because Puerto Rican's diets consist of fast food and typical American staples like pancakes. I was only introduced to two Puerto Rican staples that differentiated from they typical Caribbean dishes that they served which are Mallorca (get from La Bombanera for breakfast) and Mofongo (mashed unripened plaintain twice fried and stuffed with any protein you like -- which was best at the restaurant were we ate linner).

Saturday night we went to the Bioluminescent Bay which was awesome. The place where the boat takes off was really sketchy though so please make sure you go with someone else. You kayak from the bay to a lagoon where there is a super high concentration of the biolumiscent creatures in the water. It basically looks like a bunch of tinker bells in the water.

What the creatures look like

You can not take pictures of the biobay for some reason. All the pictures on the internet are incorrect. Not only that, you aren't allowed to swim in the biobay, which makes the pictures even more of a lie. Here is what the internet has to offer.

Much better in person. Well worth it.

Sunday we came home.

I really enjoyed Puerto Rico and I'd go back. The next time though I would go to Culebra Island (which is one of the top 10 beaches in the world) and maybe the Rainforest (I hate nature sooooo, yea, maybe not). I'd probably also visit the Bacardi plant because the man that we met that went there was REALLY happy (read: drunk) on the elevator. I'd also spend at least 10 more hours on the beach.

The downside (besides the service at the restaurants) is that the swimming pool in our hotel only went to 3 feet and the city is overrun with pigeons (as mentioned a million times, I hate birds). It rained everyday that we went there too, which was mildly annoying, but not unexpected. Also, you know black people love Memorial Day so we were flooded with HOOD people at the hotel on Thursday night (women wearing shower caps in the street to protect their weaves??? No bueno) so next time I go, no holiday weekends.

- Tha Management

Mississippi Low

2010-05-31T19:01:00.001-04:00

I know I have to recap my trip to Puerto Rico and I will in the next post but something happened I want to discuss.

I spent the night at my parents house last night after I came home. My girl was going through somethings with her seemingly perfect boyfriend and I was trying to talk to her on my cell phone but I get lousy reception at my house. After talking to her balanced by the window on one foot so I didn’t lose service, I called Mr. Mississippi to talk to him a little bit. I figured my balancing act was a little off because he couldn’t hear me, and to make matters worse, my phone started to die. So I moved the entire posse (cell phone, charger, myself) to the dining room to continue the conversation there, hoping I had better service. That’s when ish went left.

A series of event led to me attempting to use the house phone (which dies 10 minutes into every conversation) instead of my cell phone. Ish disconnects and I end up hanging up on Mr. Mississippi and my girlfriend (who was calling me with updates). I finally get control of the situation and Mr. MS seems pissed off. I can’t figure out why though. I figure it has something to do with me putting him on hold for a long time (which he hates) so I go about trying to explain what happened. He tells me I keep switching my story up and accuses me of trying to call someone on three way. He has now got it in his mind that I was doing something underhanded. I try to explain the story again, telling him exactly what happened and now he’s telling me that I switched my story up. He’s angry so I’m trying to get to the root of why and he becomes flippant, abrasive, and short with me.

I attempt to clarify the situation again and take a moment to attempt to process what’s going on. Mr. MS is making me feel horrible because of a miscommunication. I attempt to rectify the miscommunication and he calls me a liar. He says he tried to move on from the situation and I in turn attempt to as well and he tells me that now he’s back on it and I’m wrong for attempting to move on. He’s starting to alternatively piss me off and hurt my feelings.

So where does that leave me. A few years ago (hell last year if we keep it trill) I would have begged, pleaded, kicked, and screamed to make Mr. MS “forgive” me (I didn’t do anything that needed to be forgiven hence the quotes). I would have acquiesced to his ridiculousness, let him berate me, and then been sad and upset about the whole thing. But that’s not who I am anymore (that GOD). I instead stated myself clearly and calmly and wouldn’t let him off the hook for the way he was making me feel. I took a real look at the situation. All I see is a lack of trust and some paranoia on his part. If I say I didn’t do something wrong it’s up to you to believe me or not. And that’s where it sits. He didn’t believe me. If he can’t believe I’m being honest with him, he doesn’t trust me. If he doesn’t trust me, any time there is an issue, he’s going to believe the worst of me. I deserve better than that. So, I’ve moved on.

Yea, just that quick, just that easy.

This may come easier to some woman than it has for me in the past. Hell, I would have never walked away from Mr. MS because he’s got so many good qualities. But no one has the right to treat you in a way you do not want to be treated. Boundaries and ish. So I recognized the warning signs and I heeded them. Everyone shows you who they are from the moment you meet them. What you see is what you get. It took a while for a situation to occur for me to see what issues may arise in this relationship* but once they became apparent, I heeded them and walked away.

I’m reiterating this message to women in general so they can understand that there is a difference between having a man and being happy. One does not equal the other. No one has the right to treat you in ways contrary to what you want and you do not have the obligation to stay regardless of what some relationship blogs or stories tell you. SO WHAT if we (black woman) are competing for limited resources (supposedly)? Do not settle for trash just for the sake of having someone. You should never compromise your happiness for propaganda.

- Tha Management

*UPDATE - He called to apologize.

* Mr. MS and I weren’t in a monogamous committed relationship. Because of the distance, we never even brought it up. But, we cupcaked every night and I had feelings for him. Feelings I would have acted on given the chance. So I was lucky that I got to discover who he really is before I was given the chance to be more emotionally invested.

I’d Make a Horrible Wife

2010-05-28T09:54:00.000-04:00

I like to think that I am the ish when it comes to being in a relationship. I’ve been known to go above and beyond to make my man happy. I would act outside of myself just to put a smile on my man’s face. So in light of all of that, I am confident now, that I’d be a suckass wife.

Not too many people will be that honest with themselves but I’ve been working on me for a while and I’ve been able to really look into who I am. No bullshit, I don’t know how cut out for the job of “wife” I am.

So here are some reasons why I’d be a suck-ass wife:

1. I hate to share: My mom was one of seven and never had anything to herself. Consequently, she raised me and my brothers to be selfish greedy monsters who do not share anything without complaining and arguing. I didn’t even know how bad my sharing skills were until I was roommates with Donda when we started college. Donda is the oldest of three girls so she doesn’t have anything to herself. She would let me borrow things and I’d side eye the hell out of her when touched my stuff. It made for a hard year and was tolling on our friendship. I have gotten much better at sharing but I know I still have some hurdles to overcome. For instance, I hate when people touch my stuff without asking. I hate even more when people touch my stuff without asking, then don’t return to me in the condition it was given. How can you have a lasting relationship with someone when you don’t like it when they touch your remote control?

2. I am stubborn: I’m one of those people who highly values my autonomy. I hate when people tell me what to do. If I was about to do something and you were to come up to me and say “Hey, do that” I would stop and ask you why you want me to. And I would not do it without SERIOUS hesitation on my part. (note, this is one of the reasons why I was always getting into trouble as a child). So when my friend left our study group because her husband wanted her to come home, I damn near had a heart attack. He told you to come home? For real? And you are going? FAAAAHHHHKKKK NO.

3. Money is a sensitive issue to me: I hate being broke. I also hate paying for people’s stupidity. I also think that my money is money and f*ck you for wanting me to spend my money on your dumbsh*t. So if I do get a job making big money and my “husband” is all, I want to buy a motorcycle, let’s go to the dealership, I’m going to first ask him why I’m going and second tell him that he ain’t spending my damn money on no bullshit. You can see how this could be an issue since black women are predominantly the bread winners in a household right? Yea. Me telling my husband at the grocery store that since I’m paying for the groceries we are eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch even though he was allergic would end up in a divorce I’m sure.

4. Even though I hate disrespectful people, I’m disrespectful as sh*t, have a smart*ss mouth, and a short filter: Sometimes, I can be an *sshole. Let me give you an example from a past relationship.

I was dating a guy who was 3 years younger than me and would continuously act like it. It was frustrating and even though he was great 75% of the time, there would be times when I’d feel like his mom instead of his girlfriend. I got a car about 3 months into us dating and that was our sole transportation. I have this thing about men acting like men, so I think men should pump gas. Well he had never had a car so he didn’t know how to pump gas so I did it. One day I got tired of always pumping the gas so I taught him how to do it. No worries. We go out with two of my girlfriends one night and we are all laughing and joking have a good ole time when I pull into the gas station. I don’t want to pump the gas so I ask him to. He flat out REFUSES to pump the gas. I’m angry now. What do you mean you don’t want to pump the gas??? So I tell him, in front of my friends, with so much attitude “Boy, get out of the car and pump the gas like I taught you how to do yesterday!” Dead silence in the car. I went about 3 and half steps too far on that one. He yanks me out the car and curses me out for embarrassing him. We break up shortly after.

That would happen again ya’ll. I ain’t lying. I’ve been known to let some smart *ss comments slip from these lips. For instance just the other day Donda made a comment about something and I turned to her and said, “hating isn’t a good look for you, it makes you look fat.” Sometimes I just can’t help myself. I’ve gotten smart with just about every friend I’ve ever had and if I really love you, I’ll insult you to your face. I have a friend who’s name is Whore in my phone book … you know what, let me just move on.

5. I’m wishy washy: I change my mind frequently and unapologetically. One moment I’ll agree with you, the next I won’t and I’ll deny that I ever agreed with you. I also have short term memory issues so I’ll forget that I agreed with you and it will piss you off. In addition, I’ve learned how to argue effectively since starting law school, so I’ll talk you out of whatever position you may have and make you feel dumb for having it, or make you feel ridiculous for ever believing that I could have agreed with you to begin with. I’m a frustrating person.

So there are 5 reasons. There are many more actually but they are just different variations of the fact that I am rude, I hate to share, and I don’t like being told what to do. The thing is, that for so long, I would mask all these real traits about me to the guys that I dated and I’d be miserable. Its hard to walk on eggshells for years (PS and I dated for 4 years man and if we ever got into an argument EVEN WHEN I WAS RIGHT I recanted because I didn’t want to upset him). I’ve given up on being that person. That person was never happy and never got what she needed from her guys. I’d rather be me in all of my off-brand glory than to be miserable for a man again.

Plus, I do have good qualities, lol. I’m funny, I can cook, I like to make people happy, I’m incredibly giving, I’m nice to look at, and I love hard. So as bad as I am at sharing, spending my money, and being told what to do, I make up for it by being extremely loyal and loving so thoroughly, you feel it even when I’m not around.

So, my hope (and what my married friends tell me) is that when I meet the right guy all those issues will fade away and I’ll be happy to make compromises for him. I hope so. Because I do want to be married one day … hell, assholes need love too.

No homo.

- Tha Management

Two-Five

2010-05-24T09:00:00.000-04:00

I've been 25 for 7 months now. I'm not 26 yet and I already know that this has been the biggest year of my life. I could wait until my birthday to discuss the EPICness of this year but why wait?

Makes no sense not to seize the day. Carpe diem n shit.

When I turned 25 I wasn't sure what to make of it. I didn't care too much for the fact that I'm no longer in my early 20's, that I had officially stopped growing, that I can no longer blame my immaturity on being young and dumb, and that I had to get up get out and get something, NOW. No more waiting for life to happen.

I didn't necessarily set goals for myself, but I did embark on new adventures. Law school being the biggest.

This first year was difficult. I stopped talking to my family altogether. Stress and me are not good together. I spent the first part of the year stressed at work and at school and then the second part worried about getting into teams and everything else. There was no mellow period for me. I went from one state of panic to the next. And that effected me negatively in MANY ways. But it benefited me in many ways as well. I learned to diffuse. I learned to calm down. I learned to not try and control everything. I had to stop letting myself be stressed.

Didn't always work the best way and I definitely have some cleaning up to do, but there was a sense of balance that I got when it was all over. I feel like I've been running a marathon for the past year and I just got to the finish line. Its refreshing, its new, its weird, but its good too.

Another big deal is that I started going to therapy. I never talked about therapy before on my blog because I was a little ashamed to admit that I saw a therapist. There is no shame in it though, because talking out my issues has helped me be happy. I've never been so happy to be me. I let go a lot of anger and disappointment that I didn't even know I had. I know a lot of people are scared to go to therapy, but please do not be. It'll probably be the best thing you'll ever do for yourself.

And the best thing I've probably done for myself all year is that I got some standards. I know my ridiculous dating stories were fodder for my amusement sometimes, but there was a point where it seemed like too much trash was walking in and out of my life. I never thought it was due to a lack of standards, but it became GLARINGLY apparent that I needed a change after Mr. Telephone Man, Face, and the Stripper.

I've always rationalized my openness to meet guys of any background by the fact that you should not judge a book by its cover. I figured, the guy with the Ph.d and the guy who works at McDonald's are only separated by circumstances. The support and opportunities presented to one weren't presented to the other and in different circumstances their potential could be equal. And there is nothing wrong with that approach to life. It makes it so that I treat people equally. There is, however, an issue when that descends into your dating life. Simply put, I need more than that.

So unfortunately, my dating stories shall now be limited. As I told Donda, now that I have standards I will be dating a lot less, lol. Its funny to go on a date with a stripper theoretically, but in reality, the Lawyer and the Stripper will never have a sustainable relationship outside of a business transaction (one will pay the other for services rendered).

This blog is getting long. I'll see if there are any other nuggets of wisdom I can drop later. For now, marinate on this.

- Tha Management

Gucci Cookie Monster

2010-05-21T09:00:00.000-04:00

Going through old posts and I saw that I never told a dating story from when I was in undergrad in MD about the Gucci Cookie Monster ("GCM").

I always add a disclaimer about the fact that I was young and dumb when these things happened to me. I stick to that disclaimer now.

After being boo'd up my first year of college, I didn't know how to date. Meeting guys was weird and often times awkward because I was stuck in the 10th grade. I spent a lot of time asking my female friends (who were just as silly as I was) for advice. They are and consistently will be assholes. This is how I got caught up with GUCCI! to begin with.

GCM worked in the cafeteria of my college. He was around my age though and was kinda cute. So when he openly flirted with me, I didn't mind and I didn't stop it. He got his nickname because he used to be a big dude (300+) and would always look at me like I was a "cookie he wanted to eat." Didn't help that he was shaped like Cookie Monster either. The name stuck.

GCM looses about 100 pounds out the blue and I guess the weight loss increases his confidence because he puts in work to get to know me. Eventually he asks for my number and we talk on the phone but I'm not interested in him. I just don't know if I'm not interested in him because he's boring as hell or if its because he works at the school. I sit my friends down and poll them with the following question:

"Is it shallow of me not to go on a date with this guy because he works at the school."

Every single one of those *ssholes tells me that I am shallow and that I should go on the date, so I do.

Worst. Date. Ever.

GCM is not only BORING AS F*CK, he's gross. He puts his arm around me and starts trying to make out with me in the movie theater. Then when he tires of me pushing him off, he goes and gets a meal (chicken strips fries and super huge soda) and downs it in 10 minutes (diet be damned). We finally leave and since he has no car (sigh) I drive him home. I attempt to drop him off at his house but he asks me to come in. I did not put two and two together back then that going into a boys house after a date usually means he wants to sleep with you. I just thought he wanted to hang out and I was too nice to run screaming and cursing away from him.

While walking into his house he hugs me from behind and I feel him "poking" me. I shudder and break the embrace. Now, this is when I should have really fled running and screaming but nooo, I go into the house.

We sit on the couch and he talks to his roommate. He asks me to come up to his room and I ask why. He says he wants to show me something so I go (sidenote: I feel like beating myself up when I tell this story). Few things that stuck out in my mind upon entering his room.

1. His bed is on the floor and he has no sheets on it ...
2. He has no books in his room (he told me he was a nursing student and worked at the school to pay for his education)
3. wasn't ish else in the room, just the bed on the floor and some clothes in the closet

While I'm taking all of this in and attempting to ask him why he didn't have any books or furniture, he pushes me on the bed and starts kissing me. I fight him off of me, grab my ish and flee (FINALLY) from the house.

He calls me the next day. "Hey baby, whatchu doing?" I realize I'm going to have to tell him to stop calling me because he doesn't get it. I was going to go the immature route and just start ducking him, but I realized that would be hard since he worked on campus. Instead I make small talk for a few minutes and hang up on him. This works until he wants to come visit me. So I ready myself for an inevitable conversation.

I'm bsing and can't bring myself to tell him I'm not feeling him until he rubs my shoulders and I visibly shudder. I mean like my body shakes with disgust at his touch and my face screws up. He notices.

I then make up a bs story about how I'm too busy with school to date and that we shouldn't talk anymore.

When I finally tell my friends about what went down, they all tell me that they wouldn't have gone on the date and they don't know why I did. I yell, YOU TOLD ME I WAS SHALLOW and they replied, yea, it is shallow ... that doesn't mean that you should have gone on the date.

*ssholes.

- Tha Management

BTW, we called him Gucci Cookie Monster because had a fake gucci coat that he always wore. Sigh.

I Don't Listen to the F*cking Radio

2010-05-19T09:00:00.001-04:00

I'm sorry to be so vulgar but hell, DO YOU KNOW WHAT GOES ON, ON THERE?

I made a conscious decision not to listen to the radio back in 2004. I can't remember what song or coonery it was, but I seriously tagged out and was like, NO MORE. I'm not trying to say I'm better than the radio, but radio stations continuously attempt to bombard me with bullsh*t *ss music everytime I turn them on. And I'm not a music snob. No, I'm not. I have Rihanna, Beyonce, and Lil Wayne on my ipod right now ... #racistexcuse

OK FINE! Maybe I am a music snob. SO SUE ME. I'm sorry but I can't understand why Souljah Boy EXISTS. I was in the car with Donda this weekend and I hear this screechy guttral sound from the radio. It ends up being the distorted voice of Souljah Boy and he's yelling "ALL THE WAY TURNT UP." I promptly ask her WHAT THE F*CK IS THIS and start lamenting about the fall from grace black music has taken.

As I begin to shed a tear for Donnie Hathaway, Sam Cooke, and others, I notice that my shoulders are swaying. My head, it had started to bob to the beat. I was enjoying the f*ckery! I turned to Donda with shame on my face and say, I think I may like this song ...

And I realized I was going to have to kill myself. THERE IS VOODOO IN THIS MUSIC and I am now Souljah Boy's b*tch.

You know who else got me caught up in their f*ckery? Rihanna. Rude Boy is my ish. Nasty *ss song. She ain't even trying to hide her #hoshit anymore. She all "take it take it" and juking in the video. Why is she so famous? Being pretty is only a career if you MODEL. Not YODEL. Am I hating? Maybe ...

And Usher ... his *ss should be ashamed. No, he shouldn't. He whored himself out to the music industry YEARS ago. You know who should be ashamed? ME! Because I know EVERY WORD of Nicki Minaj's verse on "Lil Freak." I even do the ugly inflection in my voice when she yells "EVERYBODY LOVES RAY-MOND." (Sidenote: I am a Nicki Minaj fan. I shouldn't even be able to write about music for that fact but I DON'T GIVE A GOTDAMB ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK OF ME!)

I realized that music SUCKED a long time ago. I went to the club and I didn't know a single song the DJ played. I was perplexed because all of my grown-*ss friends were patting themselves and each other and going "shoulders, neck, knees, toes" or whatever f*cked up version of Simon Says or the Hokey Pokey Lil Boosie was telling them to do. And then some of my girlfriends broke out in full choreography to Beyonce songs in the club like that was what was hot in the streets.

I'm convinced that we are in the last days.

I know that music does and should not be fun all the time. Hell, I'm guilty of loving crappy music and I don't care that I do. All I'm asking is ... wait ... what am I asking for? I don't know anymore. I'm a hypocrite either way because as much as I hate the music I listen to now, I sure as hell will dance to it.

- Tha Management

*Shout out to the Boondocks for shining light on the state of hip-hop music today.

Sooo ...

2010-05-17T01:28:00.000-04:00

*cues "Mama I Made It" by Jay-Z. Pops open a bottle of wine. Puts her feet on the coffee table*

I'm alive. I made it. I lived to tell the tale.

First year of law school was tough. I heard that it would be and I didn't take those warnings into consideration. Well, I shall repeat the advice I've heard to any future law school attendees.

This sh*t is hard.

I'll do a lessons learned blog later on this week. This blog is to catch up. We haven't seen each other in a while ...

Weekend Fail:
I was going to surprise Rina and pop up at her graduation (She's Masters Degreed) but I couldn't do that because I needed a ticket. That didn't make my weekend a fail though, it was just the beginning of a series of fails. As my previous post has indicated, I had braids in my hair. I hated them. My head itched and the braids were pulling at my hair line ... I had to get them out. I hatched this awesome plan to take my braids out, put in a weave for two weeks while I'm on vacation so can go swimming, and then get another relaxer and let my hair (which is almost bra strap length now!) swing in the breeze. I started taking out my braids at 6pm. At 5am and after 4 movies, I fell asleep, JUST FOR A FEW MINUTES ... 3.5 hours later I was awoken by Donda telling me she'd be at my apartment in 40 minutes. I had 30 braids still in my hair, it was dirty and I looked crazy.

I have a short wig I bought the last time I wore my hair out. I rushed and put that on, put on my dress and was dressed. I even surprised myself. I actually looked nice and with 3.5 hours of sleep I wasn't even evil. Donda and I hop in the car and drive down to College Park for the graduation.

First of all EFF THE COLLEGE PARK POLICE. Then, eff the entire CP campus for being that large. Eff them for not having parking. Eff Aldo for making deceptively uncomfortable wedges. Eff Seattle's Best coffee for being disgusting regardless of how much cream and sugar you put in it. I could continue. I won't.

Mr. Mississippi
We still talk almost everyday and the conversations we have are good. But its very apparent that we have no future. He plans on staying in Mississippi and I don't see myself EVER moving there. If there is no "meeting" then there is no dating so what we have is just good conversation and friendship ... which I'm fine with.

Reggie:
Long time ago I had a friend who used to guest blog named Reggie. I didn't give much information on who Reggie was to me, but in reality, Reggie and I have had a long and interesting history. Recently, we have considered if whether or not it would be worth it to try and see if we have a future. Reggie lives out of state (but not Mississippi out of state) so we have both decided that we don't want more than a friendship for now either ... but when he moves to DC at the end of the summer, we may try and see what happens.

Etc.
Stress is some bs and I've been allowing it to impact me negatively for the past 9 months. Right now I'm in a fixer-up place. I have a lot of cleaning up to do figuratively, emotionally, economically, realistically, and physically (add as many ally's as you like). So, I got a lot of work ahead of me this summer.

Also, going to Puerto Rico for a week next week. I'm excited. Just bought some new luggage for the trip and I'm going to use Wednesday to clean my house and pack.

I'm sleepy so I'm off to bed. I'll try to post twice a week (Mon and Thursday maybe) from now until my life gets crazy again.

- Tha Management

Why Blaquedawl and other Random Facts About Me

2010-05-14T13:03:00.000-04:00

Today's blog is random and ridiculous, just like I like it.

Why is my blogsite addy blaquedawl.blogspot.com?

When I was little I really wanted a nickname. My actual "nickname" is EJ. BOOOOOOOOO. I wanted something fun and cute and EJ wasn't it. Problem with nicknames is that people usually give them to you and well, nobody wanted to call me anything but EJ. Instead, people made random references to what I looked like and always ended up saying that I looked like a baby doll. I don't know, maybe its the high cheekbones or something. Well, because of that and my fondness for never spelling things correctly, I started making all my screennames and email addresses some variation of Black Doll (like China doll). Blaquedawl stuck ... fast forward to me choosing a blogger addy and all of the cool and fun names are taken ... oh well, blaquedawl it is.

Oh and I know that entire story made me sound like a looser, whatever.

What do I do when I'm not studying?

Sleep. LMAO. No, honestly, I watch tv. I love tv. I got a DVR and everything. I have a plethora of tv shows that I watch and they are categorized by day and time. Yes, I'm serious. For instance:

Monday: ain't ish on tv
Tuesday: Lost and Glee
Wednesday: The Middle and Modern Family (used to be Ugly Betty but they cancelled the show)
Thursday: The Office, 30 Rock, Parks and Recreation, Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice
Friday: nothing
Saturday: nothing
Sunday: Desperate Housewives, Brothers and Sisters, Boondocks

... Typing that list out made me sad. I watch a lot of tv clearly. I justify this insanity with the fact that I have no life and I live vicariously through these people.

I know that this story also makes me sound like a looser, sigh

Random Factoids:
- When I have over 50 unread posts in my google reader it makes me nervous
- I never tell people what law school I go to and when they ask I change the subject
- I bought a pink cell phone case to match my pink ipod case. I don't even like the color pink.
- I bought a $305 pair of shoes that I can't wear for over 30 minutes
- This year has been the busiest year of my life. Big things at 25, I think I'm marking it well
- I will routinely eat things that are dairy even though I'm lactose intolerant. Ignorance is bliss.

I haven't posted in so long, I wanted to put something up. Monday I will return to a regular posting schedule. Got a few things to say and real updates to give.

- Tha Management

Romantic Comedy

2010-04-26T12:22:00.000-04:00

I tell Dondasaurus Rex this all the time but I view my life sometimes like one big romantic comedy a la Bridget Jones diary. I think in story lines, repetitive plots, and happy endings.

Remember Mr. Mississippi? The cute guy at the club with the bookbag on. The one I thought was boring and never made an attempt to get to know? Remember Mr. Telephone man? The one that I swooned over and waited to hang out with for weeks only for him to be a trainwreck?

In romantic comedy terms, that would mean that Mr. Mississippi would be perfect the whole time -- and that he is.

Out of the blue, I decided to text him two weeks ago to see how he was doing. After an intersting discussion I decided that I would call him since he wasn't busy. Three hours later I realized that I had spent my time focusing on the wrong one. I have never giving Mr. MS a chance and if I had, I would have found out how great (and not boring) he was.

So, what happens next my devoted RomCom lovers ... HE HAS TO MOVE AWAY IN A WEEK.

Clearly, there must be some obstacle that makes it so my choice to not pay attention to him is entirely and completely detrimental to my dating life, right? Yea. I mention casually that we should hang out and he mentions casually that he'd love to AND that he's moving back to MS the following Saturday.

At the end of our marathon conversation, I decide to file him in the "coulda been great" pile and keep it moving. Long distance relationships are not for me. I break out in anxious sweats just thinking about getting into another one. I mean really, perpertually missing somoene, spending a weekend getting to be with them only for them to leave again ... HELL NO. I mention to him that I appreciated talking to him that day and wish him the best in life.

Alls good until he calls me back the next night. We talk again for another million hours and agree that we should hang out. Thursday we went on our first date. We went to a movie and it felt ... right. We hung out again Friday and I quickly realized that I was smitten.

So, when we said our goodbyes, he asked that we keep in touch. Later on he texted that I shouldn't forget him. I won't. He is tall, fine, wears glasses (have you ever kissed a man with glasses and he takes them off, that's so damn sexy -- swoon), has a sexy accent, southern gentleman demeanor, sense of humor, great taste in music, and his greatest desire in life is to help people. Forget him???? Hell, we gon get married. How do ya'll think I'll look with a southern accent?

But in serious, non RomCom fashion, I didn't chase him down at the airport and confess my undying love for him and I didn't commit myself to believing that there is a future there, or that there is something great there that MUST be explored. Nope, my inner romantic sat the hell down and my brain kicked in. I've grown up enough to know what I want and what I don't want and I definitely don't want a long distance relationship. Mr. MS couldn't be the right guy for me right now, or he would have stayed. What he was right for was showing me a real life example of a good man. The type of man that I deserve.

Besides, there is a very good chance he'll be back at the end of the summer. And if he does come back, then that's a huge sign too.

- Tha Management

Hanging Up on the Telephone Man

2010-04-14T23:31:00.000-04:00

My friend told me about how men are like apples on an apple tree ... Don't roll your eyes, stay with me ... She said that all the ones that fall off the tree suck, and the good apple is at the top and you gotta go through the crap apples to find the good apple and its work ...

Ok, I know when she said it sounded good. She was trying to be encouraging but I was not encouraged. I was more disappointed. Mr. Telephone Man was nothing more than a pretty face.

But I knew this. I acquired the background knowledge sufficient to understand that he had no substance and that we weren't compatible from all of our conversations ... I was just hoping that he was better in person.

He wasn't.

The story isn't that interesting and definitely not worth typing out but out first date was bland and then our follow-up hang out was postponed for rain. Yes, I said rain. I got a rain delay called on my date.

Whatever. I learned some things and so I'm passing them on:

1. People show you who they are from the moment you meet them. What you see if what you get

2. Narcissism is not sexy even when you are sexy

3. Picture angles are a hell of a drug

4. I can make a steak that will make ya mama cry

5. Even though I feel like I am a catch, that doesn't ensure that others will see, understand, or appreciate that fact.

Oh and as usual, I got new shoes.

This picture makes it look like they don't fit well but I wanted to show the buckle detail

Much better than men.

- Tha Management

I'm Around

2010-04-09T11:52:00.002-04:00

My blog is more diaryish than I originally intended for it to be. I wanted to use this space to write about judicial philosophy, about the struggles of being a black woman, and about empowering ...

Let me stop bullsh*tting. I never intended to do any of that. Honestly, I think I'm funny and this blog is an extension of my day to day encounters. Sometimes I feel bad that I don't opine on any subject of real value to bettering the black community. I've had my moments though (see: Soapbox 2010).

So in the spirit of keeping this blog about the randomish that I experience, a few updates before I go and start studying for Torts and researching for my final.

I Got My Hair Braided:

I like this picture because I look pretty and yet strange. It looks like my face is doing two things at once. No seriously, cover half of my face up then cover up the other half. Weird. lol. One of my friends told me yesterday that I look like this half naked lady ...

at least he didn't say Jennifer Hudson.

CONGRATULATIONS DKLBOT!!!!
My first love is getting married on Sunday and I unfortunately will not be able to attend his wedding. He is an awesome person and his fiance is so sweet kind and beautiful! I wish them both all the love and happiness in the world!

Modesty Goes for Men Too:
Wednesday's blog was about Modesty and well ... I failed to mention that men are immodest creatures too. Currently I have a hidden folder on my blackberry full of pictures that guys have sent me of their wangdongs. Most of which were unsolicited. I'm not sure what comes into the mind of a man where he thinks, you know what's going to get that chick to really wanna be around me, if I show her a pic of my man meat. Well, this is not a good approach. BUT it is a good way to filter the foolish from the sincere. If you send me a picture of your meat, two things are certain:
1. You will be added to my folder of penises
2. You will never touch my goodies*

*this is for unsolicited pictures ... don't judge me.

Face is an Alcoholic:
I was diagnosed with bronchitis on Wednesday. I finally dragged my *ss to the Dr. I decided not to go to class because I was exhausted and Face begged to come visit. This broke several of my rules but I was too tired to argue. I asked him where he was so I knew how much time I had to sleep before he came over and he said "at the bar." I look at the time and its 4:30 pm. Who's at a bar at 4:30? Then I start to recall that everytime we talk he's telling me he's either about to go drink or he's been drinking. Even on like a Tuesday.

Face: I'm here
Me: Ok, I'm coming to open the door
Face: Give me two minutes, I'm gonna run down to this liquor store right quick
Me: Weren't you just at the bar? How much did you drink?
Face: That was only a few beers, I just want to get something to sip on while we at the house
Me: Ok ...

Face shows up 10 minutes later with a paper bag. In it is a 1/5 of Seagrams Gin (which he drinks on the rocks) and a huge can of beer. He's drunk when he leaves my house 45 minutes later.

There isn't much else to tell. He was nice (although stumbling drunk) and boring. He had to pee like 5 times in 45 minutes. We watched an episode of the Wire.

I texted him Thursday to tell him that we shouldn't communicate.

Shopping Spree:
I've lost my good mind these past two weeks. Stress will do that to me. I got ish being delivered from London and all kindsa foolishness. Please ignore me, I'm weak. I know its because I'm stressed out but I just found out that I was accepted into the full time program at school. I'll be a full time law student without this cushy Law Firm paycheck in only 4 short months (hyperventilates) HOW WILL I BUY SHOES!!!!!

Nevermind. I don't need shoes. I have a million pairs ... THAT DOESN'T HELP! MY LIFE IS OVA!

Yes, I am being a little dramatic, but I have not been umemployed for over 2 months since I was 14 yo. In undergrad I had TWO jobs. And I make good money. Basically, I need to save what I do have and stop buying ish. I'm going to have to actually quit in July. That's when I'm going to London for my summer abroad program. My life is about to get real interesting.

I betcha this blog turns into a faux "broke diaries" until I get another job. I don't even like Ramen noodles (cries).

Business As Unusual:
So, seriously, I'm about to experience a crazy new adventure in life. I don't know what convinced me that leaving all the comforts I know and love (like a paycheck) was a good idea, but here I am about to do just that. Finals end during the second week of May and then I'm going to Puerto Rico for a week. Then London for 4.5 weeks. Then back to school. Then broke. Then applying for Summer Positions at law firms. Then Graduating. Then taking the bar. Then getting a job as a lawyer. Then I'm an adult for realz.

(starts nervously biting nails and pulling at hair, rocking back and forth while singing off key)
I don't want to grow up
I'm a toys R us kid ...

- Tha Management

Life's About to Get Real Crazy

2010-04-07T00:38:00.000-04:00

Finals are the first two weeks of May so its crackdown time in my life. I actually was up until now outlining for Torts so I'm really serious about being a good student and getting it in with the books. This may mean I neglect a few other things ... namely, my blog. *ducks thrown pots, pans, rotten tomatoes and eggs*

I'll try and post but if you don't see me, you know why.

Oh, and I didn't go on a date with the stripper. He started to act all weird and he wasn't worth it to figure out. I'm still going on my first date with Mr. Telephone Man this weekend so I'll try to write about that if its eventful (I'm actually hoping its not too eventful) and Face and I are going to see "Why Did I Get Married Too" on Sunday night ... (No, I don't hate him, I just happen to want to go see that movie and since he was so pressed to spend time with me, I suggested he tag along on my excursion.) This is officially the last weekend I can semi bs as it gets really real on Thursday when I get my legal writing final. I'll try and stop by and say hello every now and then though.

*YAWN*

- Tha Management

Sometimes I Forget Just How African I Really Am

2010-04-05T16:01:00.000-04:00

I am SO Nigerian. I mean SO SO Nigerian. And sometimes I forget how deeply my culture is engrained in my being.

For the past few years, being Nigerian has had the same affect that being a Temple U. grad has had in my life. It was something noteworthy that I like to mention but not so significant as to be a real defining characteristic of my personality. It's not like I shun my culture, its more like I'm not always reminded of my culture since I don't spend much time with other Nigerians. Yes, you heard that right, I don't hang out with that many Nigerians.

I've noticed that being Nigerian is almost like being in a cult. The Nigerians who were born and raised in Nigeria then come over for school or work, they share the same jokes, they have the same mannerisms, they do the same things, party at the same parties.

For all intents and purposes, I might as well call myself American and ignore my Nigerian heritage all together. This is not something that I'm necessarily proud of, it's just the truth.

So I found it refreshing that on Easter, I was reminded that despite being born in America, I am NIGERIAN, thoroughly.

I spent the day with my dad and as was mentioned in my Christmas story, he likes to hang out with family on holidays. He likes to show me and my brothers off (look at my kids, they are awesome and they do exist) but my mom is a child hog (as mentioned) so he doesn't get the chance to do so often. So I took the "L" (I was supposed to be outlining, my finals are in a month) and went to visit the fam.

My dormant African was awoken similarly to Simba's triumphant return to Pride Rock at the end of the Lion King. (You know you like that analogy!) I didn't miss a beat or a step. Nothing was foreign or new. I knew who to greet and how to do it. I still had my Igbo interpretation skills honed (I can't speak my language but I can understand it) and my reward for all of this, GOOD FOOD. Ahh, how I love being Nigerian. By the end of the evening, I was full, my dad had a huge smile on his face, and I remembered why my culture was so awesome.

I appreciate being Nigerian more now than I did as a kid. I can truly see how it differs from the American culture and the richness it represents to me. Although my outward appearance doesn't scream African -- I have no accent and my features aren't typical Nigerian features -- as stated previously, my culture is engrained in my being. I am very proud of my heritage and my people. Sometimes I forget how much of an honor it is to tell people that I am Nigerian ... but no longer. I realize that its more than just a anecdote to explain my "funny" name, its a true representation of who I am and where I am from.

IGBO KWENU!

- Tha Management

A Cry for Modesty

2010-04-02T12:58:00.000-04:00

I was sitting on the Metro minding my own DAMN business when this girl assaulted my eyes yesterday. She was about a size 10 and was wearing a t-shirt and a sweater shrug. At first I was confused about how she found leggings that were the same complexion as her skin. And then it dawned on me that it was her skin. THIS BISH WAS NEKKID.

Oh hell NO. I'm TAH'D of this mess.

What happened to COVERING YO *SS? What happened to modesty? What happened to LADIES??????

This new trend of heffas walking around *ssed out needs to be put to rest. It is not ok to walk around with your vagina on full display high-fiving people on the street. And I'm not coming from a prudish place ... please let it be known, I wear short skirts. But I know the difference between SHORT and NAKED.

Short is a little more leg than usual
Naked is your *sscheeks on display like an upside down m
Short is a little above your fingers when you have your arms straight down by yourside.
Naked is your vagina saluting me like an army officer

I do not approve of naked. Also, breasts are supposed to be covered. Mesh shirts are not an ok piece of clothing, but if you feel the need to walk around looking like a f*cking idiot, at least wear a shirt underneath ... and if you can't muster up the deceny to layer, WEAR A F*CKING BRA! I'm tired of going to You Know You Dead Ass Wrong and seeing girls in cut out holey ish full nips on display.

Sigh.

The following is a list of fashion dont's. They are my list, but follow them anyway.

*If you have leggings on, please make sure your shirt covers at least 65% of your ass.
*If you wear leggings with holes or rips in them ... Scratch that DO NOT wear leggings with holes or rips in them
*If you do not have a nice stomach, do not wear half shirts. And if you do have a nice stomach do not wear half shirts to work (unless you work at a gym, Hooters or a Strip Club)
*Swim wear is for the pool or the beach. This means I shouldn't see any anywhere else
*If you can't bend over in your skirt without your lower lips saying hello, that skirt is too freaking short. Not appropriate for outside
*No ass cleavage. Ever.

Man, I could go on. Please feel free to add to the list in the comments section.

And on a serious note:

I don't know when women stopped understanding that sexy and naked are not the same thing. A woman can be sexier in a suit than she can be in a g string. All these little girls running around in the streets naked breaks my heart. I don't know if its for attention or lack of understanding, but it needs to stop. I want girls to go back to aspiring to be ladies instead of video hos. I won't even get into how fast and loose these chicks are now-a-days either. That's a whole other post ... sigh.

- Tha Management

Swim Fan

2010-04-01T15:35:00.000-04:00

I do not ever remember a time when I was able to swim. My mom has stated that I had swimming lessons but I do not remember taking them. All I know was that I can sink and I can drown but I cannot swim.

During my trip to the DR last summer, Rina and Dondasaurus attempted to teach me how to swim ... in the ocean. I was actually ok at it. I floated and learned to doggy paddle a little bit. After honing in my non-sinking skills (wouldn't call it "swimming" just yet) I decided to take the leap of faith and go snorkling in the ocean.

Yes, my dumb*ss thought it would be a good idea to take my non swimming self into the middle of the ocean, jump in the water and flail around for a few hours. This is how that trip went.

1. I'm on a boat. I notice the boat is going further and further away from the beach. Why we gotta go out so far? What's wrong with the fish over there (points to shore).
2. While focusing on the depth of the water that we've gotten too, the tour guide says something about a "black shark". HOL' UP, there are SHARKS out here? I keep asking people what he meant but no one is paying attention to me. My fear spikes exponentially.
3. I get dumped into the water, life vest on. I start having flashbacks of Jaws, Castaway, and Lost and people floating helpless in water to either be eaten by a shark or drown to death. People are motioning for me to swim ... do I know how to do that?
4. While making my way over to a reef, I feel something touch my leg. I start screaming. WHAT THE F*CK WAS THATTTTT! Gripped in fear, I start hyperventilating.
5. The tour guide grabs my hand and tells me to calm down. He's given me fish food and is telling me to look in the water.
6. I see fish. I'm not f*cking amused. I don't like fish ... wait, are they going to touch me? YOU WANT THE FISH TO TOUCH MEEE!
7. Hyperventilate and scream some more.
8. Tour guide drags me back to the boat and gives me water so I can calm down.
9. I get sunburned on my forehead.

FIN.

I stuck to the pool after that.

I mentioned casually to my friend Katie that I do not know how to swim. She was a swim instructor and says that I MUST learn to swim. I agree. I like being in the pool and I'd like to do more in it that walk around. Plus, swimming is a great exercise. Add the fact that there is a free pool 2 blocks away from my apartment and it is destiny. So, Wednesday I had my first swimming lesson.

I can now doggy paddle with the average of them! My swim lessons won't stop until I can swim the length of the pool a few times, Katie is no easy swim coach, but at least I'm not afraid of the deep end of the pool ... well not as afraid.

We are going to Puerto Rico in May. My goal is to know how to swim by then so I can conquer snorkling. I still don't like things touching me in the water but I can at least not look like an idiot when I'm out there.

Wish me luck.

- Tha Management

Parched Throat

2010-03-30T14:22:00.000-04:00

I must admit, I've been feeling myself these past couple of weeks. Warm weather in the hood has brought me some attention and I've been relishing in the compliments. Ego boosts all around. And despite this newfound attention being thrown my way, I refused to allow anyone to get close to me. Yea, I've kept Mr. Telephone Man around and we still talk everyday, but no one else. And things with him have been stagnant to say the least. So, sometime last week I decided to reboot the roster. A roster is a few guys that you have around in case you want to hang out with a dude. Like J.J. Abrams(sp?) said "I enjoy the company of men" and sometimes if I want to go to the movies or hang out, its nice to have a few options. This is all well and good. A lady should have options. But having options shouldn't be on a first come first serve basis and well, I made the mistake of letting one too many thirsty dudes apply for a spot on the team.

Sigh.

Here are my first round rejects.

The Stripper (Lonte): Yes, I am still going out with him on Sunday but his entire existence screams FAIL. (sidenote: I've been getting a lot of push back from outside the blogger world for going on this date. This is ENTIRELY for my own amusement. I don't plan on dating a stripper seriously NOR do I plan on allowing him anywhere near my girly bits). First, you are a stripper. I don't like male strippers. I think they are yucky. I don't think man meat is sexy unless it is being put to use so you fling-flayling it all around and in my face is NOT welcome. Second, he mentioned he does house calls during the day. Eff outta here stripper, you's a prostitute. When questioned about his house calls he said some women just want the company. Ummmm bullshit. You breaking them off nasty McNastyface. Third, he asked me if I wanted children on our first telephone conversation. Umm, scuze me ... PERSONAL. I don't know you. Also, you have two kids, why do you care if I want children or not. Sigh. He is comprised of a million more fails (including the cornrows, the tattoo of a gun on his chest, and the fact that his side job is being his son's manager) and I refuse to accept him into the roster. But he can take me to dinner.

Face: I met Face at the Metro station. I smiled at him as I was walking down the train stairs and he went to GREAT lengths (getting a ladies attention to get my attention to yelling his number across the train platform) to talk to me. When he told me his name was Face, I immediately asked him what his real name was to which he said Mike. I don't do dumb*ss nicknames. Anyway, Face is a certifiably overzealous. He texted me a million times. Like a million. Told me he had to have me, that I am the full package (mind you I didn't tell him I was in law school or what I do, just that I had a job and what I look like) and that I should call him. One text read: PLEASE CALL. Another: What's up baby? Thinking about you! For real homie? We JUST met ... sigh. So his over persistence got him eliminated from the team. I'm now debating whether I should try and have him hold a spot as an alternate or not. I hate the overzealous. I don't have much time for people anyway and the clingy ones always catch feelings when you don't pay attention to them. Naw ... he needs to just go.

Mr. Boring: This is Mr. Mississippi. He is soooooooo boring. I mean like, soooooooo boring. When we talk its usually short banter here and there via text message and nothing deeper. But even his text messages are boring. But he's a nice guy (or so it seems) so far. Nothing is materializing though. I hinted that we should hang out and no bite on his end. Its ok though. I'm tired of him already and nothing's even happened. I won't completely give up on him though. We'll keep texting and maybe we can hang out eventually. I'm hoping that he's possibly less boring face to face than on the telephone (*crosses fingers*).

Truly, I'm too busy to be contemplating rosters but I know that once school is over I'm going to be running around like a crazy person trying to go out and reclaim what my life once was. So this is in anticipation of May.

- Tha Management

I'm Sorry, You Do What?

2010-03-29T00:44:00.001-04:00

I have a date with a stripper next Sunday.

Yea, you read that right.

Turns out Lonte is a stripper with a heart of gold. And he asked me out on a date. Let's contrast him with the ever sexy Mr. Telephone Man and his wait and see attitude and I jumped on the chance to see how a stripper treats a lady.

Yes, I'm serious. Lonte is a Stripper. Why you think I'm lying?

He confessed this to me BOLDLY on our first ever telephone conversation. Scratch that, he told me via text. He wanted to send me a picture of himself so I remember what he looked like. He has cornrows so he automatically was disqualified from the dating experience. I moved him into the "for sh*ts and gigs" category of friendship when he sent me a pic of him w/o a shirt on (once again, fellas, IF you feel the need to send me pictures of your 6 pack, I will NEVER turn it down. I'm giving). the caption to the picture was "Me at work. I'm a stripper, lol."

I immediately asked him to explain what he meant and not once did he deny his occupation. He was and is a stripper. A stripper who makes HOUSE CALLS during the day. How can I turn down an opportunity to formally interview a stripper? I cannot. So when he asked me out on a date, HELL YES I agreed.

We are going out next Sunday afternoon. I am serious. No bullshit ...

I'm pretty sure I keep saying that I'm serious because I can't believe this ish myself.

- Tha Management

My Life is Average: A Series of Wins and Fails

2010-03-26T14:08:00.000-04:00

Yesterday could have been an AMAZING day or it could have been one of the worst days of my life. It seemed that everytime I took a step in one direction or the other, something would happen to pull me in the opposite way.

It all started when I woke up. That's what happened, I woke up.

Got ready for work and then made my way day down to the train station as usual when I received the following text from Rina:

Got Box tickets to the A. Keys concert tonight, you want to go?

These are questions I don't need to be asked.

I quickly called to get the logistics (time, cost, etc) and got the news that not only were the tickets free, I had 6 at my disposal.

So I sent out mass text messages to find people to fill the six spots.

I'm feeling great. Going to a free concert in cushy surroundings with 5 of my good friends. I get to work and some clothes that I ordered online were delivered to the job. Another win. It seems like my day is going from Average to Amazing ... and that's when my day went left.

Went to go get the tickets from Sherina and a lady stopped me to tell me I had a small hole in my skirt. The small hole was not small. My skirt is gray and my panties were purple and pink. The hole was on my ass.

No problem, I just got some clothes delivered, I'll just have to switch into a pair of my new jeans ... ONLY the jeans don't fit. Try as I may, the damn jeans won't button.

Sigh.

So every 6 steps I'm tugging on the jeans to pull them up praying that my pants don't fall down. I decide to leave an hour early from work to go home and change. I have a long ride home though and my pants are not playing around. On the train I attempt again to zip them closed. I get the zipper up half way. Good enough for them to stay up.

The day is back on the right side.

Only, now, I don't have anything to wear to the concert.

I frantically throw my room apart before settling on some leggings, a cami, a shrug and my leopard print stiletto sandals. I can't figure out what to do with my hair so I throw it in a ponytail and run out the door. I look SQUARELY at my umbrella before I leave the house. I always carry an umbrella but for some reason, tonight I decide against it.

Amd as you know, foolishness will follow me to the end of my days.

Fool: (drives across the road through traffic and stops on a busy street to yell out of the window) DAMN I LOVE A BEAUTIFUL WOMEN IN SOME HIGH HEELED SHOES.
Me: Thanks (doesn't break stride)
Fool: So what you got a boyfriend or something
Me: Yup (leaves fool blocking traffic. Note: Fool has a 16-22 yo in the passenger seat and a 2 yo in the back seat. The baby looks up at me quizzically attempting to understand who I was and why daddy is acting a f*cking fool in the streets)

So I'm thinking, eta at train station 3 minutes until ...

skrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Fool breaks hard in front of me. He either went around 4 corners at break neck speed or broke some traffic laws to get in front of me, as I was walking in the opposite direction he was driving in when he first blocked traffic. He yells, "So you must think I'ma give up easy n*gger" and hops out of the car.

Now, I stop walking. I have my mace in my hand just in case but first, I have to size this fool up. Gotta see what my best approach is in case I have to hurt this mofo.

Fool is cute. Hood cute, but cute. Tall, dark skin, locks, clean cut facial hair, nice build, nice lips, and a cute smile. He's wearing a black t-shirt, sneakers and pajama pants. My mind starts to wonder whether that lie about having a man was a mistake ...

Then he talks. They always gotta talk.

Fool: You must think this is my only ride, naw this is just the joint I use to pick my son up
Me: (Which one is your son? The baby or the 16 yo? Or both? Also, why do you think I care about your car. I'm not a gold digger. I'm taking the metro, you one upping me) Ok
Fool: Damn ma, ya man ain't doing you right, he should be taking you wherever you need to go, you shouldn't be walking no where.
Me: (True) Ok, I'm in a rush though
Fool: Well don't leave without taking my number and me taking yours
Me: (Interesting. He's saying the right things, plus he's cute. He's hood but that's not a deal breaker, ok) 240 ..., what's your name?
Fool: Lonte. What's yours?
Me: EJ
Fool: What's that short for?
Me: Ijeoma
Fool: Ooo and you hairy too!
Me: (Side eye sooo serious, then looks down at my arm) What?
Fool: Nah nah ma, that's a good thing
Me: (Rubs arm hair) ok ... (side eye twitches, what have I gotten myself into????)
Fool: Aight Miss Ijeoma, I'mma hit you up ... wait I'ma call you EJ cause I'm going to mess that other one up.
Me: (Sigh) Ok, bye

32.7 seconds later ... cell phone rings

Me: Hello
Fool: Hi Miss Lady, I have a couple of questions for you
Me: Sigh, Lonte I'm (cut off)
Fool: How old are you
Me: 25
Fool: Ok soo
Me: I am busy I have to go (random car going past yells out: I WANT TO GO WHERE YOU GOING CAN I COME)
Fool: Ok, I'll talk to you later
Me: Bye (hangs up)

Comcast Truck driving fool: (Blocking traffic AGAIN) I like your shoes
Me: Thanks (sidenote: since men don't know how to act when a girl wears heels, I'm wearing flats to and from everywhere. It is NOT OK to stop me from getting to where I need to go. And where the hell did all of these men come from anyway? I didn't get all this hassle in the winter.)

FINALLY I get on the train and to the concert. When I get off the train, its drizzling. No umbrella. Sigh. I meet up with my friends and go inside. The concert was GREAT! Jermaine Paul (Alicia's background singer who sings duet on Diary) opened. Then Melanie Fiona, Robin Thicke and Alicia.

The highlight of my night though ...

MICHELLE OBAMA WAS AT THE CONCERT. *I couldn't see her though, womp womp*

So I'd say I had a pretty even toned day. A day mixed with wins and fails.

I invited Mr. Telephone Man to the concert btw. He said he didn't really like Alicia's music (clutches pearls) and that she was a homewrecker. He thanked me for the invite but declined. I was disappointed but I was extremely pleased that he didn't look kindly upon homewreckers. Silver lining and ish.

- Tha Management

Another looong recap post.

Warm Weekend Wonderful

2010-03-21T21:22:00.000-04:00

I seriously dislike the cold. I also seriously dislike the heat.

I begged God for the past 6 months to make winter go away. I'm not sure why we had summer and then winter without a Fall but I was seriously pissed at the oversight. Well, he granted my wishes and we had a beautiful weekend. I had fun so I'm doing a weekend recap!

This past week was full of drama and headache so I decided to go out and have fun Friday night. Dondasaurus and I went out on the town. We started off at Penang in Dupont Circle.

Penang 19th and M

Penang is cool. It is very nice inside, had a free coat check and was two blocks from the metro. Completely walkable in super high heeled shoes. My problem with Penang (and the same problem I have with The Park at 14th) is that the club was too bourgie.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that I don't have bourgie moments.

I'm more saying that when I go out, I go out to have fun. This means my evening should not be spent worrying more about where I'm sitting or standing, who is checking me out, what everyone is wearing, and why all these chicks think they are cute. I don't go out to stand around. I go out to dance ... and to drink. So, my idea of a good time isn't stuck up people trying to see who can look farther down their nose at everyone else.

Sides, I almost got into a fight, lol. Ok, so I decided that the dance floor was too crowded and went to go sit down at a table in a separated area of the bar. I guess the table was reserved for a birthday party because after 10 minutes I sees girls congregating at the end of the table looking at me and whispering. They appoint the biggest chick to come over and tell me that the table was reserved. I never jump when people tell me to do something. Its a habit of mine (I won't call it a bad habit but it can get me into troublesome situations). So this happens.

BC (big chick): Umm, scuze me, this table is reserved for a birthday party

Me: *looks up at her* Ok

BC: The whole table

Me: Yea, I get that (still eyeballing her)

BC: So like all the seats

Me: Yea, I'm getting up *rolls eyes*

I lean over to Dondasaurus and tell her that we have to move. I take my sweet ass time to get up and then go on the dance floor. The dance floor was too crowded for my liking but no one was dancing. This pissed me off further so I suggest to D that we should hit up our regla spot, Indulj nightclub on U Street.

She side eyes me ... I mean I would have side eyed her too. We already one glass in (I had 3 Patron and Cokes that night) and we paid the cover to get in. Plus, we have to get to U street and pay another cover. I offered to pay for everything she says bet and we are off.

Self Explanatory

Indulj has a line. Weird. There is never a line. Also, the cover is mighty steep (20 a head). This is not how we usually do. We get inside and it is PACKED. Indulj is never this packed. I figured this is the first warm weekend of the season, everyone must have wanted to get out. So we push our way up to the bar and get more drinks. This is just what I needed. I'm dancing and having a great time. I even met a cute boy (shoot, I gotta call him). I eventually threw back drink 3 and some dude buys D her drink 4.

The rest of the night is ... fuzzy.

I remember getting cute boys number. I remember leaning in and asking, "Why are you wearing a bookbag?" I remember not listening to his answer. I also remember saying, "You are cute." I remember him saying I was too. *score one for liquid courage. Mr. Mississippi, I'm going to have to hit you up*

I remember getting rejected by a cab driver who didn't want to drive me to the NE. This happens all the time. Cab drivers REFUSE to go to the NE like its the plague. I remember drunkingly asking some Metro Police if the train was still running and being told it was. I remember getting on the train and almost tackling D for drunk texting her ex jump off. I remember the Nigerian boy we met at Fort Totten Station while waiting over 20 minutes for the train to come. I remember dancing to his cell phone music and calling the booth we were sitting in Club Booth. I remember a cute boy walking by and me saying he was cute way too loud. I remember him coming in the booth, and spitting some wack spoken word. I remember D almost peeing on herself as we ran from the train to my house. I remember waking up at 6am, three hours later, still drunk.

Somewhere in that bedlam, I tweeted:

"Need man to rub feet and provide good D. If interested dm."

I've decided to never drunk tweet again.

This post is getting LONG. Sigh ...

Saturday my girl came over to do my hair. She brought over her chi and pressed my hair into submission. I am sold, going to get a chi this weekend (I know the weekend is almost over). We also went to the Jamaican Spot in Brookland to oggle the mens. That store is full of fine Jamaicans.

My hair was just amazing. I took this picture to commemorate my joy:

Don't I Look Happy

I spent Sunday with Daddy. He took me shopping. I love my father. I am a daddy's girl no doubt. Bought some nice summer stuff and got groceries. I can't wait for May so I can enjoy life again!

Had some comments about the MANY girls in booty shorts I saw this weekend but that's a rant so I'll have to wait (CHICKS ITS STILL F*CKING MARCH, DAMN!) Oh, and Me and Mr. Telephone Man set a date for our first official date in April *swoons* ...

- Tha Management

A Quick Update

2010-03-17T00:06:00.000-04:00

So I’ve written two blogs without apologizing for not posting for an entire month. Sorrynshit. I’ll do better (maybe). I offer no explanations but I will update you on what’s been up.

Valentine’s Day:

So I didn’t get my bear (collective sigh of disappointment) BUT my ex/friend did attempt to order it for me and there was something wrong with the shipper. So, I am loved. I think I went to dinner with my girls that night (I can’t remember what I was doing yesterday so a month ago is too much for my fragile brain). All in all, it was a good day, I assume.

School:

Kicking my ass.

Home Life:

Been beefing with the Boss (my mother). I will eventually apologize to the woman, just not today. Its been a week or so since we started Me vs. TheMan Round 1,217,094 (that’s what I call it when we aren’t getting along) so one of us has to wave the white flag soon. It will be me though so I just gotta get ready to get an earful.

Sides that, my fishies need to get their water changed and I’ve been too lazy to do it. I have two spoiled ass betta fish who live in glass tanks with brown wood accents and bamboo trees. I don’t have and may not have children so they get treated better than I do (sometimes). Right now I keep forgetting to feed them. Whatever, they eat.

Love Life:

Dear Random Man on the Train who Blew a Kiss at Me and Gave Me His Business Card:

Hi Sir. I can tell that you may not have a lot of experience with women (this may not be apparent by the fact that you are about 45 years old) but blowing kisses is very 1978. I was embarrassed for you so when you did it and I looked down and smiled, it was my attempt to not laugh in your face. You hustled your way over to my seat and handed me your business card without speaking and bustled off the train. I read your card. I’m assuming that you are the man listed on the card, but I do not know since you didn’t speak to me. Its nice that you are a GM of a landscaping company. I don’t have a yard though … yea … soo … um …

This awkward silence wouldn’t be so awkward if you had spoken instead of blowing kisses. I’m still debating whether or not to call you. You were older but not ugly and have a job so you have passed preliminary tests and can buy me a meal and attempt to woo me. But I’m busy and I can’t get passed that weird kiss thing you did. I know, I’m shallow.

Eh.

Sincerely, Me.

Extras:

I got a relaxer and took out my weave. I was natural for almost 6 years but my hair doesn’t listen so for about 5 .5 years I was rocking a weave. But I forgot how quickly my hair grows and I wasn’t planning on getting another relaxer for a long while but my hair is crying for it. My hair can shutup though. I’ll put another weave in before I get a relaxer in less than 3 months.

You know my whole shoes are for stress relief thing??? I’ve been stressed. Observe:

Topshop.com

Shoe Woo - Union Station

Heels.com

(please excuse the junkieness in the background)

Aldo

(ditto on the junk again)

I’m going to do better. Put myself on a shoe diet. No shoes for the month of March. I bought a pair but they were preorder and don’t get delivered until May so I think that they don’t count. Boom.

Also, I’ve decided that I should start clapping to accentuate my points. If rappers and hoodsters can do it, then I can do it too.

Don’t *clap* play *clap* with *clap* me *clap*

Yup, that’s going to catch on.

- - Tha Management

Mr. Telephone Man

2010-03-16T00:22:00.002-04:00

ThaMgmt done got herself a boo ... #kindanotreallyallrightnotatall. (<-hashtag abuse at its finest.)

I don't think a man can be considered a "boo" if you've only met once ...

Picture it, a mildly warm Wednesday ... day. Tha Mgmt gets on the metro to go to a Dr.'s appt. She has her iPod on and is intently watching season 3 of the Wire. She is minding her own business when a handsome man asks her if he could sit next to her. Never one to be a seat hog (or to be rude to a cute face ... WHAT, I'm shallow sometimes, yeesh) Tha Mgmt offers the seat next to her up and returns to watching the Wire (Sidenote: Idris' fine ass was all up and through this season ... I see you Stringer in all your fine angry Baltimorian sexiness. You ain't have to do that to D'Angelo though o_O). Her seat companion decides to engage her in conversation.

FM2 (fine metro man): What are you watching

Me: The Wire

FM2: Oh ok, good show

Me: Yea *coquetish smile ... yea dammit, I knows how to flirt*

FM2: something something bs bs

Me: Blah blah blah

FM2: Blah Personal Trainer Blah

Me: I need a trainer

FM2: Then we should exchange information

Me: *Jackpot sexy man* sure *pulls out BB*

FM2: *Pulls out BB*

Me: Oh, you have a blackberry too *swoons ... yes, for some reason a man with a BB makes me hot, shush!*

FM2: Blah blah blah

Me: This is my stop, nice meeting you FM2

Later I get a text message. FM2 has sent me his picture so I don't forget what he looks like ... its a good picture too. I immediately forward it to Dondasaures Rex ... "LOOK AT WHAT I CAUGHT ON THE METRO!" *Ignorance is bliss, meaning I'm ignorant and blissfully happy*

So, its been about a month. FM2 and I talk/text every night. He's funny, sweet, and has a way with words ... but yea, we've only met that one time.

He just moved to the area and needs to get settled. Says he set some goals for himself and that by April he'll be ready for us to start hanging out. I know ... it sounds a little like game but I'm ok with it. I've learned to not live with expectations regarding men anymore. If things work out with FM2, more power to us, but if not, at least I got the pics! (Yea, that personal trainer thing he got going ain't no joke ... he sent me pics of some of his tattoos *he was shirtless* and I dropped my phone ... Men, please feel free to send pictures of your 6-8 packs anytime, I don't mind, really).

- Tha Management

112

2010-03-12T13:33:00.001-05:00

I was just over at @_sugaHoney's parts and read her fabulous post about Dru Hill. I too was a super fan of Dru Hill's going as far as to buy every cd they came out with until Woody quit for the third time, they added Sir Alias (idk his name), and purple mohawks and mankini thongs began. I was a FAN you hear me??? Narcist and I used to bump their first cd, we did the frog dance from "Tell Me" together, and we teared up everytime we heard April Showers. But they held no candle AT ALL to another group ...

One-Twelve.

Did you hear me?

I said 112!

There is no love like the love I had for those four boys! *Bangs Tamborine* You hear me! Wooooo! *calms back down*.

Picture it, 2002. The day of the release of Room 112. DondasaurusRex (formerly Narcist) and ThaMgmt are anticipating the release in class. One or the other gets the bright idea to skip school and drive to the mall only, they have to make it past the security guard in the parking lot. They recruit a small army of dedicated 112 fans and plan their escape from the high school. They walk through the woods but the Security Guard is blocking their escape. ThaMgmt decides to take the "L" and walks back to school to see if she can find a more legit way to get to her car. She leaves the army but tells them "I'll be back." Shortly after, her dumb*ss is sent back to class. The army escapes without her and buys the cd at lunchtime. ThaMgmt had to wait 3 whole hours and rush to Target to get hers.

She sits down in her room and plays the cd. She is entranced. It is all it needs to be and more. Then she hears this:

Baby I can give it to you anyway you like it you just let me know
I'm giving you the keys so you can ride me fast or slow-ow
On this ride of love
I wanna go
To places you and I ain't never been before
Baby imagine me,
Kissing all over you
Your body's trembling, I know you are feeling me
And now I'm getting curious
Girl my body is filled with lust
I can't take it no more
I am about to EXPLODE

*Boom* (ThaMgmt's head pops off).

"Cupid" is one of the best R&B songs ever. It's probably one of the reasons I am a romantic now. I gasped at the end of "Your Letter" and I agreed when they asked that chick "Who's going to love you like I did." Then when they sang out "Q, Mike, Slim, Daron" on that interlude I wanted to yell out YOU ARE LOOKING FOR MEEEEEEE!

Alas, my favorite boy group Bad Boy (aka where artists go to die) has not made a GREAT able since Room 112. Now, Slim ain't slim no mo and Q's fine *ss is ... wait, what is Q up to. Hey boo -- if you are reading this, I'm free, CALL ME.

But I digress. I love me some them.

Some videos:

- Tha Management (ThaMgmt)

Soapbox 2010

2010-01-27T00:55:00.002-05:00

(link to the article: I Hate Weaves)

"Cause he is the truth.
Yea, he is so REAL.

- India.Arie

I know when India.Arie wrote that song she was talking about love. And no, I do not love this man ... but umm, that don't make this any less poignant.

A lot of people quote this particular Katt Williams sketch. And if you haven't seen it, here are a few gems:

- I'm just here to remind n*ggas that life is short and you need to enjoy your m*therf*cking life. Stop being ungrateful about your g*td*mn life.

- (2:15) Ladies, you need to stop stressing all the time. You need to understand that if you are not the sh*t to you, you are not the sh*t to any body else.

- (continuing on his message to ladies) You blaming us for stuff we are not even in control of "Well you f*cked up my self esteem." B*tch it's called SELF ESTEEM. It's esteem of your SELF. How did I f*ck up how you feel about you!

- You gotta be the sh*t to you ladies. Some of ya'll stressing entirely too much about sh*t that n*ggas don't even care about.

- Ladies, if your man is mad about your stretch marks, I suggest you stop f*cking with b*tch n*ggas.

- Ladies, you need to start taking responsibility for your own miserable life. If you are over 25 y/o and you still walking around talking about n*ggas ain't sh*t, then you need to grow up with your irresponsible ass. What you meant to say is that all the n*ggas you f*ck with ain't sh*t.

- You gotta be happy with what you got right now because you don't know what may happen.

So I posted this because yesterday SBM wrote a blog about disliking weaves. I've read many anti-weave blogs, many natural hair is the best hair blogs, many diet blogs, many workout blogs, many how to find a man blogs, many what's wrong with black women blogs, many sit up straight, smile pretty, be subservient with a ph.d. and know how to cook blogs. I've read them all ... and I only want to say one thing:

Love yourself.

Many women were in a heated debate over this topic. One man said he didn't like weave and it was armageddon for those who wore them. I put my hand on my head, felt around in my tracks and laughed when I read it. Why? Because I love me. I don't care if a man likes or dislikes a weave. I don't care if a man doesn't like a thick girl. I don't care if a man doesn't like brown skin toned women. Hell, I don't care if a man doesn't like a woman with a million pairs of shoes. Why? Because I love me. Like Narcist says, "If you like it, I love it." No man telling you what type of hair he doesn't like should ever make you think about what that means to you. Because it doesn't mean shit. The only thing that matters is what YOU feel about YOU.

2010 is my Soap Box year. I'm preaching this all day everyday for anyone who will listen.

2010 is the year of loving yourself.
Love yourself better than anyone else will love you.
Love yourself beautiful.
Love yourself thin.
Love yourself smart.
Love yourself whole.

And don't expect ANYONE to do it for you. Because NO ONE CAN LOVE YOU LIKE YOU CAN LOVE YOU.

My background: I used to have such low self esteem. I couldn't see my worth. I never gave myself compliments and when other people gave them to me, I shied away from them. For a long time I couldn't recognize the blessings that I had. There is nothing sadder than a person who has everything and thinks they have nothing. Nothing they get will ever make them whole. That's how I felt. No matter how thin, no matter how far in my career, no matter what musical note I hit, or what man I met, I was never happy. I didn't love myself. And loving me has made it so I am truly happy. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think that I am blessed and everyone should feel that way. It's a blessing to wake up in the morning and a blessing to be able to open your eyes, and blessing to smell flowers.

Gosh, I'm emotional right now, lol.

All I'm trying to say is that in 2010 if you are going to make a resolution, resolve to love yourself ... and mean it.

Listen to KATT!

- Tha Management

A Day in the Life

I've Moved

Shutting Down

Is She Crazy or Did He Do Something Wrong?

An Ode to Kris Kross

Things that Should Have Never Happened (A series) Pt 2

Plus Size Dress Hell

The Romantic in Me is Mean

Romantic Valentine's Don't Exist for Me

Oops, I did it Again

Things that Should Have Never Happened (A series)

The Worst Holla Ever

Frontin'

I Think About That Sometimes ...

Self Righteous

Love in Awkward Positions

Mommy's Little Princess

The Wrong Mississippi

Hey *sheepish grin*

It's Been a Long Time Coming

Bootcamp Week 1

Too Connected

Preachy

Candy

I'm Home!

Screw Face

Fluffy Vajage

Kids

300 Pound Finger

Pimpin' All Over the World

London Living

No, I'm not Deceased

#4's Picture Emporium

Randoms

Why So Serious?

Cougarette

Mean Girl

When We Get By - An Ode to Love Songs

Brand Loyal

No Post Today

Closure

Puerto Rico - Hooo!

Mississippi Low

I’d Make a Horrible Wife

Two-Five

Gucci Cookie Monster

I Don't Listen to the F*cking Radio

Sooo ...

Why Blaquedawl and other Random Facts About Me

Romantic Comedy

Hanging Up on the Telephone Man

I'm Around

Life's About to Get Real Crazy

Sometimes I Forget Just How African I Really Am

A Cry for Modesty

Swim Fan

Parched Throat

I'm Sorry, You Do What?

My Life is Average: A Series of Wins and Fails

Warm Weekend Wonderful

A Quick Update

Mr. Telephone Man

112

Soapbox 2010

Hey sheepish grin