Monday, August 11, 2008

random musings monday

friday, august 8, 2008, 10:32 p.m.
him: so you just leaving work?
me: yeah
him: so you on your way to my house?
me: why would i be headed there?
him: so we can talk and chill

fifteen minutes before that...
him: i can't lie. if you came over here, i can't say i wouldn't be trying to press up.
me: that means i can't come over.
him: NOOO...i'm not saying i WOULD press up. i can't promise i won't try. what can i say? i'm attracted to you.

ten minutes before that...
him: i'm just sitting here in my boxers
me: why you telling me that for?
him: no reason

10:33 p.m.
me: dude, how i look coming over your house this late? this ain't 'social call' time of day. this is 'we fucking' time of night.
him: what, you don't trust yourself?
me to myself: i remember this exact strategy being used in june of 1991....

june, 1991:
different dude: what, you don't trust yourself?
me to myself: what, he think i don't have the self control to be at his house and not fuck? I'LL SHOW HIM.
me to him: hell yeah i trust myself. you ain't got it like that.
me to myself the next morning as we lay there in bed: shit.

august 8, 2008 10:33 p.m.
me to him: um, no. i don't trust myself.

is it just me or did that favre situation play out like favre was the whiny bitch trying to force her husband to divorce her? frankly, i've never been on the love boat with that cat. i remember an interview a few years back when favre said something to the equivalent of "i'm not teaching aaron rodgers shit. that ain't my job." funny how that particular side of favre was nicely swept under the rug like it was just his moment on the rag. whateverz.

i'm trying to decide if i was just subtly hit on by hipdoc. here's the exchange...u tell me what you think:

hipdoc: do you have any cute friends who wouldn't mind dating a married doctor?
*slow blink while i digest what he just asked*
me: huh? uh, heh (that 'heh' was done in complete discomfort)
crazycow: we're venturing off tangent now...

okay, so he asked me during a team meeting, but i had to wonder. i mean really, what married dude even jokes about that unless he's feeling the room, ya know? so of course i'm of the mindset he was testing the waters. he had that kinda laugh on his face, like "i'm joking but only if you're uncomfortable with the question" look. i had a hard time even looking at him after that cuz i didn't know what to make of the question. then the new it guy (from now on known as 'chaun, which is short for leprechaun cuz he's a relatively petite irish dude) casts this sly glance in my direction like he was interested in the answer but didn't want to give himself away. the thing is, he's recently married and new wifey is pregnant (the circumstance precipitating the nuptials). what da hell he doing looking at me like that? damn, i know black women are a relatively new addition to the whole interracial buffet but that doesn't mean we come on the 'dick-down for a dolla' menu.

this weekend became surreal as soon as i got a text at 9:37:47 a.m. on saturday morning from peii: "oh my god! bernie died!"

first thought: "this must be a white thing cuz i don't get this cat's sense of humor at ALL."
second thought: let me check the 'net (cuz nikki still without cable and local television access)
so i pull up the net on the crackberry and there it is..."bernie mac dead at 50". was in shock then and am still in shock now. i think it's times like this when i'm glad i don't have easy access to television. i didn't get to voluntarily drown myself in the mourning movements found on the channels. you know, when folk do the retrospectives and talk about how great the guy was and how everybody's gonna miss him, etc., etc. it's easy to get depressed about it when you see it over and over again.

i haven't watched a lick of the olympics. even when i was at the 'rents house on sunday. i'm just too cynical a fan now. it's hard for me not to believe folk ain't on some kinda performance-enhancing drug. marion jones passed all her drug tests during the olympics but it has now been proven that she took drugs. bottom line...when you mix sports with world politics, it's not just about winning, it's about proving one's way of life/political ideology is superior to another's. therefore to assume countries are dilligently keeping their athletes clean when they aren't sure other countries are doing so is unrealistic. i just hope the u.s. basketball team wins the gold, otherwise the u.s. will have officially had it's scrotum removed.

i've noticed more than my fair share of blog hook ups over the last few years i've been blogging. it's actually quite cute to see fellow bloggers make their way towards each other romantically. it gets ugly when shit don't work out and then links and pictures quietly (or loudly) disappear from blog rolls and/or the requisite "things just didn't work out" blog entry. frankly, i prefer not reading about that shit at ALL, but folk get giddy so what you gonna do? it's their blog, they deserve to write all the mushy shit that can be rended from their gushy lil hearts. i would just suggest that when it ends, please be just as willing to divulge how that dude/chick fucked up as you were to talk about how wonderful he/she was in the beginning. i want all the bitter "that negro got a little dick" or "that chick's coochie smells like a sewer full of dead bodies" or "when we fucked, i had to pretend he was someone else in order to get mine off." kinda details. this last one is especially satisfying if dude wrote how great the sex was for both of you on HIS blog.

as the reader, i at least deserve that payoff after having to read all that other sappy shit for months.

when i first began blogging, i was easily infatuated by good writing. if a brotha knew how to turn a phrase he was turning me out at the same time. i found myself placing all kinds of undeserved platitudes on cats. if he was a good writer, he was suddenly a deep and textured person full of integrity and good will who was kind to kittens and kids, paid all his bills on time, and was the most attentive lover who just so happened to have the biggest dick EVAR. after being in the game for three years, i've realized that blogs are just like anything else absent of significant offline contact...they're mirrors reflecting only selective images and can never be given weight when attempting to discern the true nature of a person's character. it's easy to confuse confession with intimacy on this thing. for example, i could tell you about my farts and cellulite but that don't mean you know me. that just means i got candid and told you about some shit other folk might not talk about.

fa real though...if you met a guy at a club a few days a week for six months, would you assume you knew everything about that cat just cuz you talked to him for six months? would you be ready to get exclusive and give him access to the coochie? would you assume you know that cat and you tight like that just cuz he told you about his hemorrhoids?

no matter how a relationship begins, somewhere in that mix there has to be experiences shared before a relationship gets real. if it wasn't important, folk everywhere would be married to blow-up dolls and dildos.