membrane [begin]

"membrane - A membrane is a layer of material which serves as a selective barrier between two phases and remains impermeable to specific particles, molecules, or substances when exposed to the action of a driving force. Some components are allowed passage by the membrane into a permeate stream, whereas others are retained by it and accumulate in the retentate stream..."

saturday, august 8 6:23 a.m.

i've been lying in the bed since 5 a.m., my phone the lone light in a room drunk on darkness, the low hiss of of the oxygen gliding through the tubes curled around my face, a plastic mustache containing my next few breaths.

i have to pee.

yet my body is a book of throbbing torment unwilling to unfold from it's position of semi-comfort where the stinging pain of unforgiving skin has left it imobile like a chalked silhouette of a dead drive by victim on my bedsheets.

i have to pee.

my breathing, once an assumption of normalcy because i was 37 and relatively healthy, is now faltering as i contemplate the long walk from my bedroom to the bathroom...a skippable 25 feet away a few months ago, now feeling like the 100 yard dash when tethered to a 40 foot tube connected to an oxygen machine.

i really really really have to pee...

the light from the phone is out and i'm a puddle of punk curled into the covers, willing my bladder to wait a few more hours so i don't have to maneuver through a maze of manufactured facial manacles meant to maintain my breathing as i trip to the toilet. i squeeze my thighs tightly, as if the pressure will somehow crystalize the urine until the sun rises. i begin rocking, hopeful i can just use gravity to shove it back up whatever tunnel it came from, another strategy that usually works but as the past few months have shown me, my body has become another vessel and therefore, old strategies no longer apply here.

SHIT.

it's becoming a bit drastic now. my breathing is escalating in distress because now i really have to pee and i don't have much time to get there before i'm peeing on myself. i reach for my phone and hit the side button to light the way, point the light down to make sure i'm not gonna step on my breath, and fight the tears pushing their way through my eyelids as i swallow from the pain of the scabbed wounds biting my body like open mouths silently feeding upon me.

you cannot pee on yourself...you CANNOT.

my shuffle falters into a waddle as i fling open my bedroom door and make my way to the bathroom in a black hole that evidently soaked up every last bit of light in the universe.

i hope the door is open or there's gonna be one loud bang in about 3 seconds...

i whip up my gown and fall upon the toilet just as i lose control of my bladder...

and.now.i.can't.breathe...

see, another thing i learned...one doesn't have to be able to breathe to pee.


this is sooooo not how i anticipated the monumental moment when i would decide to begin writing again...

have the panties become too tight?

before i continue with this entry, a quick update on the happenings in my life over the last few months:

1. got a gig in the atl with old employer
2. postponed move to ny until after i get my degree (1.5 years or sooner if i hump it and double the class load)
3. living with the 'rents until september. let's just say i have plenty of new stories, most of which are both distressing and funny...mostly distressing.

aiight, so i'm back at the blog and wondering what took me so long to get back. why am i having this aversion to writing on my blog after years of steady writing (aiight, mostly steady writing.) i was telling a friend of mine how i've become straight up scared of coming here. it's like putting on weight and being afraid to see one's self in front of the mirror cuz you just know you're not gonna be happy with what you see.

have the panties become too tight? am i no longer able to fit into the confines of my blog? maybe that's the problem. i used to see this blog as a way to free the inside of me. now i see it as a cell caging my creativity. i try to figure out why and have a number of theories:

1. it's just not intimate anymore. think back to the time you went to your favorite watering hole and thought to yourself "man, i love this spot...not many folk here and i can just be me...". then you start hearing other folk speaking on your spot and you get a bit scared cuz you don't want it getting all crowded with folk who can't appreciate it. then UT OH...your fam and close friends hear about it and suddenly you realize that time you got on stage and sang to strangers will never happen again because you know one day you might look out past the lights and see a familiar face staring back at you with that "oh HAIL nawl, this fool is up here looking crazy! WAIT TIL I TELL [insert name of fam or friend most likely to fuck up your reputation] about this shit" look on his/her face. crazy to a few folk is harmless. crazy to many means being possibly institutionalized.

2. some of the people i used to talk about now know about the damn blog. see, this is what happens when you have blog folk as friends on facebook. worlds start crossing and next thing you know folk just 'happen' to find their way to the blog...kinda like the nosey neighbor who just 'happened' upon the buried corpse of a victim in the backyard of the serial killer she says "always seemed so quiet...never thought he'd be capable of murder although he DID seem a bit strange now that i think about it. i mean, who makes coffee dressed in only tighty whities? not that i saw it personally but i heard it from someone in the neighborhood..." i think what freaked me out most was finding out one of my blog friends is actually a facebook friend of my very very first love ever. like, how do they even KNOW each other when they aren't even living in the same damn state?!? the world became smaller and in doing so, let me know i'm not as anonymous as i thought i was. scary thought. i get the feeling one day someone's gonna read the blog and recognize themselves in a story and it's gonna be like that scene in 'the best man' when taye digg's character got the beat down (not that it would ever happen to me cuz i'm not self-sacrificing like him. i fight dirty.)

3. i am constantly editing shit in my head. by this i mean, even before the words hit the screen i'm revising that shit in my mind. i can't just flow no mo. it's like there's a mental detector at the entrance to my mind's eye and all ideas are frisked for imperfections before they're allowed to exit. my creative process is currently existing under military rule and nothing is allowed to leave without all of it's expressions in check.

4. i never finish a story and now the blog is littered with the tombstones of tales who died prematurely because i psyched myself out of finishing them because i wanted the endings to be perfect or didn't know how to continue the telling. if you've been around from the beginning, you know the pattern. i'm good for one or two entries, then nothing. i know alot of it is because i'm putting so much pressure on myself. again, it's me trying to perform instead of me just writing. then there are the readers who tell me almost immediately after i start a story "shit, i don't know why i'm even reading this cuz you're not gonna finish it. LOL" they're right.

so what do you suggest i do to get my blog back? is it even possible at this stage in the game? do i shut this shit down and try again elsewhere or do i just shut this shit down period? ANY insight is appreciated as i'm sure many if not most of you have gone through the same thing.

the danger of 'safe'

"I'm telling you its like therapy..[blogging] Keeps me from hitting the pipe...and you can quote me on that one...lol" - mr. slish

aiight, i will.

he, along with others, have been actively trying to snap me out of my silence. it's been a difficult time for me, not simply because i now find myself unemployed for the first time in almost a decade, but also because i find myself at a crossroads. in the past, when i heard folk say that, i'd be like "what in the fuck does THAT mean?!?"

now i know.

it is at this moment on my mortal timeline when i am paralyzed, my future forked into prongs of possibilities, my present knifed into shavings of indecision, my past spooned into a bowl of listless existence.

this moment when i realize all of the experiences prior to now were merely preparing me for the monumental decision i will soon have to make, the decision which will ultimately determine where my life moves from here.

at this very moment, this crossroads of a moment, i'm writing in my blog and i'm not even sure what happens next.

the writer in me wants to orchestrate the happy ending where i get the dream gig, the perfect man, and the 1.5 kids. at the very least i wanted to be able to come back here and say to you with confidence and perhaps a bit of smugness "hey, i got the job i've always wanted and now i'm moving back to ny where i'm gonna finally began living the life i've always wanted to live. this is the next and better stage of my life!"

instead, all i've got is "shit, what the fuck do i do?!?"

i will probably be offered a gig when i call the hr person back tomorrow. yay, right? the thing is, it means staying in atlanta. now, i've been planning to move to new york since october, even going so far as to travel up there to interview for a few gigs, including the dream gig. in fact, i was told early last week that i was on the short list for the dream gig, and that i'd be contacted as soon as a decision was made.

well, it's been over a week and i've still not heard anything. meanwhile, i might have the gig in atlanta.

and who in his/her right mind turns down a job in THIS economic climate?

even if by taking the job she basically has to readjust her dreams to not include the one place she's been trying to get back to basically since she left it as a child? even if taking the job means taking the safe route?

i've found that for me, 'safe' is dangerous.

'safe' has a way of starving a life of meaning until it's left a stale skeleton emaciated from a diet of empty memories.

i spent over a decade living the 'safe' life, marrying a man who lacked the significance to pose a threat to my heart, but he was the 'good brotha' everyone told me i was supposed to marry.

just like i'm hearing now how i'm supposed to take this job in atlanta because it means saving money and living in relative comfort without any personal challenges because seriously, it'd be hard for me to struggle in atlanta. i will always have a place to live, always be able to find affordable housing, and despite my complaints, will always be able to get a date.

easy.

'safe'.

meanwhile, moving to new york won't be easy or safe. if i go up there without a guaranteed job, that means living off of my severance and last check while i looked for work. it also means no unemployment check because that gig i'd be turning down? it's with my former employer, just in another department.

so it's short money i gotta stretch over the long haul and i might not get a job off the bat. then i'll be living in an old brownstone that in alot of ways is falling apart. no creature comforts, a mouse or two dashing from corner to corner in the darkness, and despite the relatives living in new york, no real support network.

hard.

unsafe.

i know what you're saying right now..."nikki, what the fuck are you thinking? why is this even a debate for you? girl, you betta take that damn job in atlanta and buy a few plane tickets to new york to visit!"

the scared part of me wants to do just that. it wants to take that job and breathe a sigh of relief and get back to work and not worry about bills being paid. that's the same part of me who whispered "sure, he doesn't do much for you, but he's steady and he'll never hurt you..."

that's the same part of me who has dictated my moves for pretty much my entire life.

then there's the other part...i don't even know what to label it yet cuz frankly, it's voice is rather foreign to me. it's the one saying "fuck it! aren't you tired of having folk dictate to you how you should choose the less challenging and worrisome path? they can't live your life for you! yo, just do the damn thing and handle the challenges as they come. believe in yourself! stop doubting what you can do!"

i haven't heard this voice in a long damn time. it was buried under all the pillows covering the path i was walking until i hit this crossroads. my feet never had to touch the ground. i never felt the pinch of a pebble embedded into my heel or the sting of a twig cracking under the weight of my walk, its fractured carcass slicing my skin until i bled into the dirt.

i never felt the lush blades of grass tucked inbetween my toes...

the problem with cushioning is that it can prevent one from experiencing both the blissful and painful moments that define a life with meaning. it muffles the desires of the spirit because usually seeking fulfillment of those desires means getting rid of the cushions altogether. it requires stepping out on faith, which is basically stepping forward with the hope the path is headed in the right direction, regardless of how it's paved. some folk would say that's dangerous.

'safe' is dangerously absent of faith. on the surface, i can convince myself that in choosing to take the job with the worry-free life i am saying i have faith everything will turn out as predicted because of the 'safe' nature of my choice. however, there's nothing truly safe about it. it is in fact mislabeled. it should be called 'stagnant'.

and is it really having faith or just knowledge based on pre-existing patterns suggesting the outcome will be exactly as it has always been? like, how much faith does a person have to have in the certainty 2+2 will equal 4?

in my mind, faith means hoping in the face of the unknown. it means moving forward into the uncertain future with the hope that so long as i keep moving purposefully, the outcome will prove favorable.

faith is rooted not in the equation but the question...

"will i succeed? will i fail? who knows?"

it thrives in the declarative...

"i sure as hell won't know until i go..."

and real safety lies in always keeping the faith...

speculations and observations of weekend happenings pt.1 [private dick]

date: friday, december 12

place: the 'rents

9:35 p.m. - "he's probably gay," i said with supreme confidence.

thirty seconds prior:

me: so where you headed?
dad: to a celebration for a co-worker.
me: what kind of celebration?
dad: he just got his ph.d.
me: oh snap...is he single?
dad: yes.
me: is he gay?
dad: i don't know...

so i employed my equation, known as 'bi, fag, or he am straight' theory:

[(black male + unattached) less than 40 years of age but greater than 30 years of age] + atl resident(ph.d. x self-sufficient) - butt ugliness = 75% probability the cat suck dick better than i do.

9:40 p.m. - "oh, then he's gay," i replied with certainty to dad's female co-worker

thirty seconds earlier:

me: dad tells me you two are headed to a celebration.
her: yes. one of our co-workers just received his ph.d.
me: dad says he's single.
her: yes.
me: is he gay?
her: wow...i don't know...

see, cuz [(black male + unattached) less than 40 years of age but greater than 30 years of age] + atl resident(ph.d. x self-sufficient) - butt ugliness/ a female's inability to determine if a man is attracted to women despite close daily interaction with said male = the only thing left to determine is whether he's a top or bottom.

9:50 p.m. - dad and co-worker laughed, then tell me i don't know what i'm talking about cuz i've never even met the guy. i shake my head in pity at their obtuseness.

sure enough...

date - saturday, december 13

place - the 'rents

10:21 a.m. - "what i tell you...my equations NEVA fail," i uttered with smugness to dad after he related to me the events of the previous night at the celebration where:

1. dad and female co-worker were greeted by co-worker's 'friend', a blazing cat who took their coats, led them into the living room, introduced them to everyone else, then proceeded to hover over them as the unspoken co-host of the gathering.

2. the number of biologically unaltered females in the spot was scarce, consisting primarily of the guy's mom, cousin, and three female co-workers. conspiciously absent was the clingy, possessive sista shooting daggers at anyone trying to move in on her prize. in atlanta, a straight, single, successful black man is required to have one of these on general principle, if for no other reason than to squash the whispering among his homophobic relatives. if there is no clingy female, there should be a high number of either potentials or past pussies in the place to keep the men folk happy. and yet...

3. none of the men there complained about the lack of female tail. i don't know where you're from, but where i live, when the women aren't in attendance, the straight men bounce.

4. 100% of the men there were particularly well-dressed in that 'i pamper myself' kinda way. not that this a clear indication of sexual preference, but when coupled with the fact that none of of the men were pissed off that they'd gotten all dressed up for a sausage party, the answer becomes self-evident.

5. 3 out of 4 men in attendance at some point during the night complained about his weight. 'nuff said.

"will you stop asking all these damn questions, nikki? i get it! he's gay!" needless to say, dad was over me asking so many questions about the gathering. i was out to prove my point, though.

later that evening...

9:30 p.m. - i'm at a christmas party where the guy in question just so happens to be in attendance. having never seen him before, i wasn't sure where to point my gaydar, so i just did a broad sweep of the spot. i began with the room closest to the entrance where there's a game of spades taking place. i do a quick scan of the cozy room after hugging my girl gia who was sitting in one of the seats at the table.

was it the black male observing the game from the couch? i sure hoped not, cuz he's got some really nice dreadlocks and even though he's a bit on the skinny side, he's high yella and i've always had a thing for the yella fellas. the light from the lamp next to the couch reflects off of the band choking the second finger on his left hand. hmmmmz...that's a tactic used by many gay men to discourage women from approaching, so it doesn't mean he's straight. however, as i slide my gaze away from him i can feel his eyes tip toeing over my form in that "i'm faithfully married but can appreciate a nice display when i see one" sideways glance.

straight...

i'm already sipping from a glass of 'nice' on ice, my scrutiny now on the people at the table, where the lone other male was sitting. he was also wearing some pretty nice locs pulled away from his face. his huge nose was prominently featured on an otherwise unremarkable countenance, like vegas erected in the middle of a blank nevada desert. across from him was an older female suffering from the same facial makeup. obviously his mom.

my gaydar was detecting an unidentified object in the area...

i frowned as i returned my focus to 'suspect dred' at the table cuz he's not dressed spiffy at all. in fact, he was looking downright bummy. i take stock of the audience packed into the room, the females vying subtlely (and not so subtlely) for his attention. meanwhile, a gay man isn't gonna be too concerned about dressing well if he's going to a party full of women. why dress up the food if you don't want anyone there to request a serving?

homing in on the coordinates...

gia introduced me to him and after the perfunctory hello, i'm dismissed from his vision. that's understandable cuz after all, he's playing cards. i give him the benefit of a doubt because some cats are just into cards like that.

i sit down in a seat close to the table and watch the game. it's obvious the four folk are skilled, so the room is surprisingly quiet in a house full of festive folk. the hand is a highly contested one, as the mom/son team bid eight books to end the game with a flourish and the opposing team took the bid personal. his momz had misplayed a card earlier and lost them a book, so i was pretty sure they were gonna get set. having won the previous book, his momz drops her card onto the table to begin the last go round.

king of diamonds. m

my girl gia pushes her card to the center of the table, her card landing ontop of the king.

queen of diamonds.

everyone held their breath and remained still, as if movement would somehow fuck up the balance of the outcome. 'suspected dred' held onto his card a bit longer than necessary, whether for dramatic effect or cuz he knew he didn't have shit. then he slammed his card onto the table with authority.

three of hearts.

wtf?

gia's partner looked at the three cards on the table and barked with laughter. her card flew across the table to land onto the pile of cards.

three of diamonds.

i closed my eyes as gia groaned.

"damn" she muttered.

"GET UP FROM THE TABLE!" a masculine voice yelled from in front of me. my eyes shot open cuz the voice sounded kinda hot.

"great game," i said to no one in particular. i look at 'suspect dred' who at this point is texting fiercely over his phone, the lone single male in a room full of beautiful and eligible women...

a room full of beautiful and eligible women who were damn near preening in front of him as he continued to ignore all of them?

evidently the clouds of desperation had rendered their gaydars ineffective.

i mean, even the married guy was flirting with us. i smirked and turn off my gaydar.

sighting confirmed.

"congrats on your ph.d.," i said to 'suspect dred' as i got up to go get something to eat.

"thank you," he mumbled, his attention still focused on his task of texting.

"i'm headed to the kitchen. anyone want anything?" i asked the room.

"yeah, bring me back a guinness will you?" requested his momz in a voice that sounded deep and demanding, the vocal equivalent of a guy pushing his girl's head towards his crotch. i stared at her in obvious confusion. i'm sayin though...she sounded LIKE A DUDE.

"uh, sure." i wasn't sure if i should address her as sir or ma'am. this brought to mind that episode of 'friends' where chandler was trying to determine if he should call his recently sex-changed father 'mom' or 'pop'. not saying she'd had surgery, but that voice was fucking with me, and it didn't help that she'd sat in her chair with her legs spread like she was *this close* to grabbing her crotch to shift something around.

yes, the guy was gay, but he was good folk, so i ain't hating. however, am i wrong for being glad he wasn't my type? i mean, there's NOTHING worse than finding a guy attractive only to discover he's gay.

straight up...don't hate on me, gay men...but i wish all of you mofos were ugly as FUCK. makes life way easier for me.

pt 2 in a few days.

unfamiliar jism pt. 2 [prattle battle]

part one

to recap:

1. it's friday, i'm bored, and suffering from the plasmic punctuation.
2. i've just received a call from a guy, but not just any guy...the dreaded "maybe if i talk to him long enough i can convince myself he's interesting" guy.
3. our drivel skirmish has begun with him asking me about my plans for friday night.

why yes, it is a combination worthy of dry heaving, but then that'd make for a really short entry (which, judging from some of the comments in the previous entry, would be considered an improvement...)

but guess what?

this is MY blog, damnit!

so get ready for the long, drawn out, and probably unfinished version of the story.

aiight, so the battle has begun and i've gotta figure out a strategy that will:

1. get me off the phone in five minutes or less

2. let him know i'm not interested in him 'like that' but am open to hanging out with him so i am exposed to his cute and less boring friends...without looking like sup.ahead da chickenhead.

3. get me off the phone in five minutes or less

so important, i had to say it twice.

my maneuvers include:

the truth: "nothing planned. gonna just chill out here."

the whole truth: "gonna spend my night beneath the covers, squeezed into a painfully tight fetal position while i bleed for eve's sins all over the bed."

or nothing but a lie: "actually, i'm waiting for you to ask me out, as i've thought of nothing but you since we met a month ago."

without much thought, i go with an abbreviated version of the truth, coupled with my first tactical error.

"nothing planned," i say in response, "what's going on with you?"

rule number one in keeping a conversation short:

NEVER, EVER ask a question requiring an answer other than yes or no. it's the equivalent of "thank you sir may i have another?!?"

my intellect is bent over, awaiting its cerebral spanking.

"i've been out of town for the last three weekends so i'm enjoying being at home," he answers, then pauses...thus leaving himself vulnerable to my counterattack.

the bomb falls from my lips, it's descent tailed by a whistling noise as it drops from the sigh...

"cool."

this monosyllabic word annihilates even the most colloquial of opponents. when coupled with just the right amount of emotional indifference, it will not only completely obliterate a thread of conversation until it's little more than the burning embers of intented delineation, it also provides a route of escape for those seeking to be emotionally unattainable...folk like me. in fact, i've used that one more than a few times over the past year, to almost 100% effectiveness:

guy i was fucking who caught feelings during said fucking: "i love you."

me, as i swallowed the panic and urged him to keep the hips moving: "cool."

or

crazy cow (better known as my boss) after she told me i was doing a great job: "by the way...i know we just hired you, but we've been forced to do a departmental reorganization, which means your job is probably gonna be eliminated."

me, reminding myself to put on latex gloves before i strangle the bitch: "cool."

or

physician's assistant during a recent doctor's visit: "here's a topical cream for immediate relief, but you're gonna have to shave all that off in order to get rid of them all."

me, after cursing the guy who caught something else in addition to feelings, with his fast ass: "cool."

or

ex hubby: "my mom is dead."

me: "cool!"

aiight, so the last two were complete falsehoods and perhaps one shouldn't exclaim out loud how cool it is that her wicked witch of an ex mother-in-law is dead, but you get my drift...

anyhow, so i've just dropped my atomic bomb of conversation killers, cheezing into the phone in silent glee as i await erection of his white flag (that is not my pet name for his penis), ala "aiight, well i just called to [insert nonsensical blabber...just get off the damn phone already.]

breath is bated...

as i wait...

then he states...

"so you didn't do much talking last time we spoke. tell me about you."

DAMN DAMN DOUBLE DAMN!!!

he resorts to the most low down dirty, filthy, heinous, devious tactic in the history of repartee combat, a nimble inquiry piercing through my indifference until it exposes the most vulnerable part of me...

my ego.

i try to maintain my distance but i'm growing weaker. his curiosity has cut into my apathy, bleeding it of sarcasm until my response is soaked with the arrogance gushing from my exposed vain.

"hmmmz..." i begin even as i realize my plans for escaping from the cell of this conversation will be nixed for at least an additional thirty minutes (and that's with the abbreviated version where i only speak in acronyms).

i hear a sinister laugh and think nothing of it as i continue talking about all things nikki.

by the time i finish (or run out of breath, it gets blurry there towards the end...) it's 37 minutes into an exchange that was supposed to have ended 32 minutes prior.

"i dig you," he says at the end of my tale, "you seem like an earthy sista."

earthy? what da hell he mean by that?

"what da hell u mean by that?" i ask, my question straddling the fence between offense and inquisitiveness.

"i mean you sound like you're down."

what, down by law? [only atliens will get that reference]

"am i being recruited for a gang or something?"

okay, so i am being purposefully obtuse. really though...who says shit like "you sound like you down" unless they're talking about something foul? the word 'down' has all kinds of nefarious dealings attached to it: down-low, crackdown, downfall, rundown, breakdown, facedown...none of which inspire giddy goodness in a person, feel me? (actually, 'facedown' has potential for greatness in theory, but it's tied moreso to death than sex).

he laughs. i squint my eyes in distrust as i again heard that whisper of menace in his voice.

"no, of course not," he tacks on the end of the chuckle, "i mean you are down to earth."

"oh."

what do i say to that? that's unbelievably trite of you? might as well have said "girl, you deep." like i'm a pot hole or something.

"so i take it you don't have any immediate plans for tonight," he states, thus guaranteeing his election as mayor of obvious town.

"nah, not really."

"aiight," he says, "i have an idea. it'll allow us to get to know each other real well."

skepticism grabs my adventurous nature and tries to pin it down but i have too much time on my hands...tactical error number three billion two hundred twenty-one in this battle.

"okay, i'm in. what's up?"

"let's play a game of truth or dare."

"what?"

ut oh...

curiosity + boredom =

'DAAYUM! YOU GOT KNOCKED DA FUCK OUT!"

with one battle ended, a new one begins...

unfamiliar jism

it's friday night and i'm dangerously bored.

i'm simmering within the debris of my most recent disagreement with redrum regarding his desire to visit. it's not that i don't want him to stop through. however, i already have one houseguest and she is being quite the bitch. she'd shown up early and unannounced a few hours prior and while i am begrudgedly grateful at her arrival, she has come, as always, with weapons drawn. as soon as she stepped through the door she was stabbing me in the stomach, which in turn left me bleeding all over the place and too short-tempered to play the 'whatever it is i am to him' role with any level of enthusiasm. i am NOT in the mood for entertaining anyone else.

so needless to say, i am no more hospitable when the phone rings shortly after i hang up with redrum. i check the caller id...

kirk? the name sounded vaguely familiar...

who is...OHHHHHH

i'd met him a few weeks back at candy's superhero/super villian themed halloween party. he'd come as "i'm too lazy to come up with something original so i put on this deer hunting outfit, grabbed a bow and arrow, and am calling myself 'guy with arrow'". meanwhile, aunt flo had me feeling bloated so wearing my original superhero outfit had been out of the question. for a second i'd contemplated dressing in red, covering myself in tampons, sticking an open can of tuna in my purse and going as 'the crimson bitch' in protest of my monthly visitor's presence, but i'd talked myself out of it at the last minute.


i instead opted for a mini skirt, three inch heels, and a breast-enhancing blouse with two knitting needles holding up my loc'd french bun and a ball of yarn dangling from my waist. i was calling myself 'knit chick'.

i might not be able to apprehend the bad guys with a golden lasso, but i could embarrass them to death by forcing them to wear really hideous sweaters i created like the ones cosby always wore on his show.
alright, alright...my shit was weak but it was the best i could do on short notice (and with very little imagination).

anyway, so it was at this party where i met kirk, an attractive cat colored in columbian coffee tones with a nicely-muscled frame tucked into his deer hunting outfit. i hadn't really been checking him too hard that night as i'd spent much of the time eyeing the chocolate fountain and fighting with that flo heffa, who'd had me *this close* to shoving my mouth beneath the cascading chocolate and drinking it straight from the source.

"hey there."

i was lying naked beneath a fudge downpour as chiwetel ejiofor ran fresh strawberries over the tips of my breasts before feeding them to me one at a time...

"ahem."

"ooooh chiwe! say my name again baby! i love it when you say my name in that stiffly british accent of yours..."

"um, who's chewy?"

i opened my eyes to find my face precariously close to being drenched in liquid chocolate.

pulling up in embarrassment, i wobbled on my three inch heels as i made eye contact with the man attached to the voice interrupting my fantasy. as stated, he was attractive, although i was still dismayed. flo + chocolate = ignoring men no matter how good they look, at least for the first day or two.

"what?" i responded with a mixture of irritation and inquiry. he did the requisite head to toe look without missing a beat. for once i was hopeful he wouldn't notice da girls in their perky glory cuz i was quite eager to get back to my chiwe fantasy. i tried de-emphasizing the bounty, but it was an effort equal to trying to wipe clean one's ass with a blade of bluegrass.

"who is chewy?" he asked again, his eyes no doubt detailing my drawn brows and frowning mouth.

"ever see the movie 'kinky boots'?" i answered with a question.

"that sounds like porn," his sentence fell into a whisper as he stepped in closer, his gaze sharpening upon my features, "is it a porn flick?"

oh good lord...

"no. it's this british comedy with..."

he took one more step towards me, which was placing him about 4.3 inches outside the boundary of my personal space and about 2.2 inches away from a kick to the crotch.

"whoa, cat," my hands came up and landed on his chest. his broad, dieseled chest.

whoa, caaaaaaat...

i began purring on the inside as i commanded my hands to cease with their exploration.

"what's that noise?"

or maybe it wasn't on the inside. horrified, i dropped my hands and turned toward the table to get myself something to eat. flo had me acting like a horny fool and i had to get a grip on the whoremones before i turned into one moaning whore right there in front of everybody.

"this food looks soooo good!" i exclaimed with only a sliver of a fracture in my delivery, "i don't know what to eat first!"

"the little pigs in the blanket are pretty good," he said as he pointed to the tower o' lil swine swaddled in lil dough squares. i dropped a few of those on my plate and made my way down the table, grabbing anything that looked like it was edible. the food was stacked like jenga blocks on my paper plate. i found a place to sit and slid my mountain to a spot on the table in front of me. dude sat down next to me.

"looks like you're hungry."

if it's facetiousness then he gets a point cuz i love a lil sarcasm. if he's making a harmless declarative statement then he loses a point cuz beginning an initial conversation by stating the obvious usually means the guy lacks the abilities necessary to run with it to the end zone.

"are you being facetious?" i asked all hopeful like a child begging for confirmation of santa's existence.

"what? NO," he declared, sounding sheepish, "you have alot of food on your plate, though."

i deducted the point in disappointment and shoved a piece of swaddled swine into my mouth.

just ONCE i'd like to get a decent present instead of always being left to entertain myself with the dimmest bulbs on the fucking tree.

during the time i was eating, he was talking, primarily about himself, but i wasn't really listening. i kept assessing him on the sly as he continued on, looking for something physical to make up for the complete lack of mental i was detecting with this cat. i mean, i was hungry, but i wasn't thirsty, feel me?

for those who don't know, nikki's scoring system is as follows:

mental attributes = up to ten points

physical attributes = up to ten points

boyfriend material = (mental + physical) > or = 15

this pretty much guarantees i won't be dealing with a butt-ugly dummy over the long-term as a guy cannot score lower than a five in either category if he wants to be my boyfriend.

OKAY, OKAY...before i get a bunch of you commenting on the hideous idiots i've dated in the past, i'll admit there are exceptions. if the guy's penis is between eight and ten inches long, he gets two points, which can be used to get him to the fifteen point total, which in turn means a guy can score as low as three in either category and still have a slim chance at splitting the uprights. however, any guy scoring lower than five in the mental category is only ever eligible for fucking friend status. i'm less hesitant about dating an ugly guy cuz at least i know his looks won't change for the worse. once you've hit ugly on the scale, there's nowhere else to go but up. however, i shouldn't be forced to cohabitate with a dumb guy over the long haul cuz the chance of procreating with the fool increases over time and i do not want to have to live with the guilt of populating the world with dumb folk.

i mean, look at what it's done to barb.

luckily for her, there's nowhere to go but up.

and i deduct if the penis is over ten inches long. i'm not looking to get stabbed in the guts. these internal organs are here for a reason and i prefer they remain intact thank you very much.

but i'm digressing...

the thing is...the penis size can't be determined upon first meeting a guy unless i've just given the guy my price list for sexual acts, thus meaning i'm gonna have to resort to the less reliable method...the 'sight test'. i hate the sight test because for one, it means i'm gonna have to find a way to stare at the package long enough to determine a mere guesstimate of the size without being obvious. for two, some men have sight sensors on their penises, thus giving them the ability to know when someone's trying to make contact with the third eye. i don't know how many times i've looked at a man's crotch with the stealth of viet cong, only to glance up and find said man watching me with the "GOTCHA!" grin on his face. for three, it requires i get in close to the crotch of a guy i don't know, which brings its own set of hazards, none of which i need to smell out here.

after convincing myself i was doing it for womankind, i took a deep breath and held it as i dropped a piece of food on the floor and bent over to get it and a gander at the goods on the way up.

his camouflage outfit proved extra effective at hiding the prey from my detection.

another disappointing development.

so i was pretty much stuck listening to him big up himself and losing ground with every word uttered. now i've come across my share of self-absorbed fellas and while by and large the practice of talking only of one's self to the exclusion of others is not a good look, it's tolerable if the guy has an interesting story to tell.

too bad this guy's story was about as interesting as watching a roach crawl across a wall...you're mildly curious in watching where it's headed but only cuz you know you're gonna kill it before it gets there. i painted my face with feigned fascination and settled in for the torture. the only thing saving him from a toothpick stabbing being the looping image in my mind's eye of him writhing on the ground like a roach wrapped in raid after i saturated his face with mace.

i'm sure you're asking yourself why i would bother conversing with him after it was obvious he was not appealing to me on any levels. come on...a single female in atlanta would have to be a lesbian to turn away a single guy. like the leg bone connected to the hip bone, he's the asshole connected to other potential bones, although a sista gotta be careful in the atl cuz sometimes the asshole is carnally connected to the other bones. not that there's anything wrong with it, but i'm not trying to battle my man for the bottom position.

anyway, so at the end of the night we exchanged numbers.

at which point his image was deleted from my memory card.

flash forward to friday. once i remember who he is, i am prompt with hitting the 'ignore' button on my phone, sending the call to voicemail.

he is prompt with calling me back a minute later.

now see, on any other night i would have just hit 'ignore' again, cuz if he's calling me right back, his move reeks of desperation and i don't dig that odor.

unfortunately for me, i am dangerously bored.

so i let it ring another two times, roll my eyes, and pick it up on the fourth ring.

"hello?"

"hello, nikki?"

"yes," i answer, "who is this?"

"it's kirk. we met at ya girl candy's halloween party a month ago."

i let a second pass while i pretend to search for a memory of him.

"oh yeah...you're the fellow rattler. so what's up?" the sentence sounds way more enthusiastic as i type it than it sounded when i said it.


there is a pause, no doubt while kirk notes my lack of emotion at his calling. my mind is now stepping over the fragments of our initial conversation, the jagged edges cutting into my conscious until it's bleeding remembered agony.

"i just called to see what you were up to on a friday night."

i stare into the phone and wonder how rude it would be if i just hung up on the guy. i could play it off like i had phone trouble, which would then make it easy for me to avoid his calls from that point on cuz 'phone trouble' is the visa of all excuses...u can use that shit everywhere and folk just gotta accept it.



but i am dangerously bored...

and he appears to be harmless enough...

a combination that can only bode well for the folk looking to laugh at me in the next installation...

u stoooooopid

the folk who read me regularly know i'm usually very VERY forgiving when it comes to folk and fallibility. however, even i have my limits. sometimes you just gotta call it what it is...

Rapper gets 20 years after writing shooting song


DUBLIN, Ga. – He shot a man twice and felt so good about it, police said, a rapper wrote a song describing the shooting and calling out the victim by name. A judge sentenced 25-year-old Rico Todriquez Wright Monday to spend the next 20 years in prison after his victim mentioned the hip hop confession to police.
Chad Blue, 28, told police he had known Wright before the September 2006 shooting, but that the men weren't friendly. He testified companions egged Wright on as he chased and shot his victim in the thigh and groin.
Later, Blue told police he recognized Wright's voice on a CD, rapping "Chad Blue knows how I shoot."
Wright was sentenced to 20 years for two counts of aggravated assault. He will spend another 20 years on probation.
_______________________

i am without words. too bad he wasn't.

changes a brewin'

"If you knew that you would die today
Saw the face of god and love
Would you change?
Would you change?

If you knew that love can break your heart
When you're down so low that you cannot fall
Would you change?
Would you change?"


i had a few moments of clarity this weekend...

1. i'm not ready for a serious relationship. i thought that was what i wanted...and then he said he wanted to be in a serious relationship with me...and a day later i was looking for a way out of it. evidently i AM the kind of sista who can have casual sex. ut oh...

2. i was casually watching good morning america saturday morning when a segment came on about the signs letting you know you're about to be laid off. i wasn't even fully paying attention to it until they began going through the list and i found myself saying stuff like "wait..my boss isn't really looking me in the eye anymore...and she IS in alot of meetings now...and my list of new projects has kinda stalled...

and then the instinct kicked in and i decided to call my boss to find out what the deal was. turns out they might be eliminating my position. now to be fair, she mentioned it to me in a brief discussion about three weeks ago. here's how it went down:

boss: we are extremely happy with your performance since the last time we spoke on it. you still have a few improvements to make, but overall you're progressing wonderfully.
me: thanks. i appreciate the praise. i've been working really hard to get adjusted to the demands of the position. [we both get up and i'm turning to leave...]
boss: oh yes. one more thing. the associate directors are meeting about reorganizing our department and there is the small possibility that your job might be eliminated.
*crickets*
[i turn to her in slow motion, not sure i heard her right.]
me: wait, are you saying i could be out of a job? when?
boss: well, they're going to be meeting about it at the beginning of november so we should know something by the end of the first week in november. i don't think you'll be affected but i really have no idea how this is going to play out. don't worry about it, though. i'll let you know what transpires.
when i got back to my office, i sat there kinda stunned but i didn't worry, because she said not to worry, right? idiot.
three weeks later and i hadn't heard anything and frankly, hadn't even given it any thought until saturday morning and that segment. after calling my boss, she spent 45 minutes trying to explain to me what happened and why it was looking likely the position would be eliminated.

here's the thing, though...i left a pretty cushy job at another local university to take this gig. i was two years away from being vested, had a shitload of vacation and sick time, was getting my degree on their dime and pretty much had my run of the place. i took the new job because it was more money but also allowed me to get a degree with a pretty prestigious private university for free. when i took the job, my boss told me she had to get special permission to give me the money she thought would be necessary in order for me to leave my other job.

that was eight months ago.

i left a job i'd been in for eight YEARS for a gig that might not last me eight MONTHS? okay, folk. you know i was fucking HOT.

but i played it cool. i asked her how long she thought i would have. she said something about making sure i had time to find another job. i asked her how much time that would be. she didn't know. turns out the salary they gave me they could no longer afford because of budget cuts. in fact, she said they will probably have to change the job to part-time to stay within the budget. she kept stressing the fact that she didn't know for sure if my job would be eliminated or not. the fact that i even had to call her ass to get the heads up on it let me know she would have preferred i be the clueless worker who kept busting her ass and going above and beyond job requirements in order to keep the department running. she doesn't want the worker who knows she's about to be let go. you know that chick...the one who is no longer invested in the department, who no longer stays late or comes in early, who now happily takes all breaks and spends her free time (and perhaps some of her not so free time) looking for a new gig.

unfortunately, that's what she now has.

i was rather dejected after i got off the phone with her. i was talking online to my girl lee at the time and when i got off the phone i told her what happened. three minutes later she had the name of a person i could call regarding a job and a link to where the open positions would be posted. i've been thanking god for bringing her into my life for the last year and times like these remind me of why i should keep thanking him.

then my brother called and i began thinking perhaps things were being orchestrated a certain way for me. i mean, 'swad NEVER calls me before noon cuz he's usually asleep (he lives in cali). this morning he calls though. he's in new york to oversee the replacing of the roof on the brownstone so he's up. i told him what happened and what i was doing in preparation of the possible job elimination. i was sounding sad and scared when he said something to me that changed my mindset entirely.

"i don't know about you, but i'm excited for you! do you know what that means? you can go WHEREVER YOU WANNA GO! you don't have to stay in atlanta! you could move to cali or new york or peru! who says you gotta look for a job in atlanta? you could move to new york, live in the brownstone for free, and go to school if you wanted."

the more he talked, the more i remembered things happen for a reason. i COULD move out of the state! hell, i have no husband, no kids, and no significant debt. i was so busy worrying about what i was losing, i didn't even think about what i was gaining. i'm gaining the opportunity to begin anew somewhere else. i've been wanting to move back to new york for the last four years but it wasn't a possibility while i was still married. it is now, though. the brownstone is paid for, so all i'd have to pay for is utilities and that would be covered by the tenant renting the apartment upstairs. sooooo...i'd be living there for free.

and what's the downside again?

well, actually there are some pros/cons...new york folk will have to help me get this part together:

pros:
no rent/utilities to pay for which means the job pays for eliminating my $2300 debt and putting me through school if i choose.
closer to family
more creative and cultural opportunities, including more material for my writing in addition to everything else.
will be able to personally oversee renovation of the brownstone, even take on some of the projects myself, which is exciting cuz i love me some hgtv and diy network
volunteer opportunities galore...might even be able to make a significant contribution in my immediate neighborhood! right now my immediate neighborhood is comprised of affluent folk (not that there's anything wrong with that, but i do feel a bit removed from reality at times).
relatively inexpensive and extensive public transporation system. i won't have to drive everywhere
socially, i don't see how it wouldn't be an improvement over atlanta in every way that matters to me.
the new york blogger scene is HAWT. i'm ready to meet some of them already!
it's new york...'nuff said.

cons:
it's an old brownstone, with old brownstone issues like the possibility of mice, no dryer and an ancient pipe and electric system. i've been living upscale for a while now and i have to admit to being a bit spoiled. it's gonna require an adjustment for me.
what's with the whole parking on alternating sides of the street? they don't have that nonsense in atlanta...
and speaking of which, how much will i have to pay to have secure parking for my car?
closer to family
it's cold as a corpse's clit up there! i'm used to mild winters and that'd pretty much be over.
safety...actually, i'm not sure about this one. 'swad says the area has improved from when we were shorties watching gun battles go down on the corner (i'm gonna have to tell that story one day).
ghosts. the house is full of them. not sure if i'm mentally able to handle living so in a place so flooded with my family's past.


by saturday afternoon i had hashed out a tentative rough draft of my list of goals over the next 3 months:

1. update the resume.
2. look for a new gig.
3. get car fixed (was in a car accident about a month ago...the same day i was set to give a presentation breaking down the importance of my job but missed because of said accident...how's THAT for timing?!?)
4. see all pertinent doctors so i can get all my shit checked. on the slim chance i'm not employed by the time i move, i gotta make sure i have no serious health issues to contend with.
5. figure out what stuff i'm taking and what stuff i'm putting on craigslist to get rid of.
6. formulate a 'bare minimum' budget to find out the absolute minimum amount of monthly income i'll need to generate in order to live in new york.
7. finish all work projects which includes building two databases from scratch. (my pride won't let me completely slack at work, no matter if i'm out of a job or not.)
8. figure out what to do with my current sexual situation. he jokingly suggested he move up there with me. then he realized i wasn't laughing. i think when he gives it serious thought, he'll realize we're better off as just sexual partners. at least, that's what i'm hoping.

so in the end, change is good. it always is, so long as a person sees it as a chance to become empowered, not left helpless. i won't become the victim of the outcome. i'm gonna be the victor because i choose to initiate that change.

and if you wanna say a few prayers to help me along the way, i won't be mad at it. :)

election meme

1. where were you when you found out obama was elected president?

in a family friend's basement laying on the couch, by myself. it was an election party, but right before word went out he was the president elect, most of the folk left. the remaining folk were upstairs watching it in another room. i didn't want to be up there cuz they were rowdy and i wanted to hear the coverage.

2. what time was it?

10:59 p.m. eastern standard time

3. what was the first thought that went through your mind when you found out?

wait a minute...did i just hear that right? five minutes before i was staring at the television and obama was sitting on 207 electorates. then i blinked, and dude had 297. it took a minute for my mind to register what i'd just seen.

4. what network coverage were you watching at the time you found out?

CNN

5. who was the first person you hugged afterwards?

my mom. she ran down the stairs and we hugged while she was crying. i was still too stunned to cry.

6. who was the first person you spoke to on the phone?

my brother called me. we literally just sat on the phone in silence, every now and again one of us would mumble in awe "i can't believe this..."

7. know anyone who voted for the first time in this election?

believe it or not, my 76 year old grandmother voted for the VERY FIRST TIME in this election. i was shocked when my mom told me, because grandma grew up during the time when black folk were fighting for the right to vote, so i'm thinking she would have immediately began voting after the voting rights act went into effect. unfortunately, she was one of those folk who didn't believe in the process and felt disenfranchised. i learned during this election that there were ALOT of older folk voting for the first time.

8. name one person you wish were alive for that moment. what would that person have said?

my granny. she was a cynic and no doubt would have been disbelieving right up to the end but when he won, she would have said "that dude won it! that dude won it! that's a bad dude!"

9. give one aspect of obama's message that resonates with you.

the idea that there could actually be unity within the united states. not unity in that individuality is eliminated, but unity in that everyone is working towards the goal of becoming a better nation of people. his message of bi-partisan cooperation. i'm feeling that.

10. when did you vote? how long was the wait?

i voted the day of, early in the morning. my wait was approximately twenty minutes.

11. was your state red or blue at the end?

mine was red, but my city was blue. however, the rural counties ultimately made the difference, the bastids. it was the closest georgia has been to being a blue state since clinton ran in 1992.

12. when did you truly believe obama would win?

i didn't truly believe until they said he'd won. yes, i'm too cynical for my own good. however, given america's history, i have every reason to be.

13. what will you do/are you doing to aid in spreading the message of change?

i am stepping up my efforts in volunteering within my community. i've slacked off in recent years and i think my inactivity has contributed to the feeling of helplessness i was feeling.

14. what do you think will be obama's biggest challenge during his first few years in office?

i think it's gonna be hard for him to get support across party lines, at least on a significant scale. think about it...if he's successful, the republicans might never get another person in office because the idea of unity will always be associated with the democrats. then again, that's a pretty cynical view...maybe it won't be that hard...

15. what does his win mean for black people?

not a gawtdamn thing unless his win is a catalyst for ACTION not just AWE. sure, little brown babies will now see a brown face in the the most powerful position in the world. however, whether they truly feel empowered will be as a result of the efforts of the folk whose faces they see everyday. expecting his win to eliminate the pervasive self-hatred and helplessness within underserved communities is like expecting a band-aid to heal cancer. however, there is no denying the positive impact of seeing brown faces in the white house running the country instead of just the kitchen. i'm just hopeful his election won't be permission for folk to sit back and wait.

16. did his win confirm racism is a non-entity in america?

HELL nah. however, it did confirm at least in my mind, that racism can BECOME a non-entity in america...i think.

17. do you think he'll be elected for a second term?

i don't know...i mean, tyrone willingham was only given three years to turn around notre dame before he got the boot. folk might not have alot of patience with obama. despite the fact that the current state of america was eight years in the making, folk might actually expect obama to flip shit in less than four years. however, i'm hopeful the american public is smart enough to realize it'll take longer than four years to get america back in shape.

18. do you know anyone who voted for mccain/palin? if so, who was it?

this guy i dated briefly. i'm not a hundred percent sure cuz it has been some months since i've spoken to him and he was pro-mccain prior to palin being chosen as his running mate. however, he, being an economist, felt mccain's tax plan was more realistic than obama's. and yes, that was one of the reasons i ended our association. actually, let me stop fibbing...it's the only reason i broke up with him. i mean damn...mccain? SERIOUSLY?

i'm not tagging anyone cuz i just made this thing up. feel free to answer the meme in the comment section or on your own blog.

no, you really don't know..(a repost)

given the monumental day, i figured i should repost this, as no doubt the next president feels the exact same way, and i'm hopeful that today's events will be the catalyst in spreading this mindset among the folk who still feel hatred or pity towards themselves and/or their situations.

"I am not tragically colored. There is no great sorrow dammed up in my soul, nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all. I do not belong to that sobbing school of Negrohood who hold that nature somehow has given them a lowdown dirty deal. Even in the helter-skelter skirmish that is my life, I have seen that the world is to the strong regardless of a little pigmentation more or less. No, I do not weep at the world — I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife." - zora neale hurston

i will never apologize for being who i am, nor will i apologize for other folks insecurities regarding my existence. i'm black and i'm proud and if you feel threatened by that, that's on you. i'm not here to take away from you, i'm here to build my own. i don't covet what you have because i know i'm responsible for getting what i want. i know my own value. i won't let you define me because that ain't your job or your right. i don't need you to validate me. please know my first priority is checking myself and my folk before i even CONTEMPLATE checking you. i don't measure my shine by yours as there's enough light in the world for all of us. loving me doesn't mean hating you, it means LOVING ME.

LOVING the black woman i am with the thick legs i got from my granny and birthing hips i got from my momma and the unadulterated coffee brown beauty i got from africa

LOVING how i rock it loc'd and laugh at those attempting to mock me

LOVING my soupcatcher lips that can strip the flesh from a chicken bone or suck the moan right out of a man

LOVING how i can 'speak to my peeps like dis' or 'expound in exacting vernacular to them like that'

LOVING that i can 'write about folk fucking' or 'compose prose on the comparison of his strokes to the soft petals of a rose'.

LOVING my skin's ability to ward off weapons of destruction, bear invisible tattoos of past hurts encryptions, yet still be so magnificent as to surpass all words of description

LOVING my BIGNESS - my ideas, my aspirations, my laugh, my ass

LOVING the baggage i discard one piece at a time

LOVING the sense of empowerment that comes with knowing that no matter what you say or do, I control THIS ri'chea.

LOVING the rainbow reflected in my soul...my blue moods, my red rage, my green experience, my yellow fear, my black thoughts

LOVING what makes me uniquely nikki

and not ONE of you mothafuckas can EVER take that away from me.

is he?

i really think my dad is stepping out on my mom. i've got all kinds of scenarios in my head of how i'd confront him with it, but the truth of the matter is i can't really say shit. i mean, if i tell him i know, then i'd feel bad if it's confirmed and i don't tell mom, and i can't tell mom cuz that's between husband and wife. on the other hand, he's the worse liar in the world and i'm SOOOO over with him trying to come up with new lies to tell (or worse, thinking the old ones can be recycled when they didn't work the first damn time he told them...)

mom's been out of town for the last two weeks and it seems like dad has been extra liarful lately...

dad leaving a message on my mobile: hey nikki (pause) i'm gonna be going to the movies tonight. i'll give you a call sometime later tonight.

now here's the thing...if i were doing dirt, i'd call someone with the place i'll be which includes a time at which point i'll call them back so that they don't call me. he was smart there (besides the pause, which is suspect...i mean, do you have to think about the fact you going to the movies? you either going or you not, right?)

so dad calls later that night (quite late for a guy who went to the movies around 6 p.m.) and i'm like "wassup, dad."

dad: i'm gonna be heading to the okefenokee swamp tomorrow. i'll be there all day.
me (after giving the phone a hard side eye...yeah, i got that from opinionated diva): really? what you going down there for?
dad: i'm gonna be taking photos.
me (now adding the side 'oh really now' smirk to my face): oh. you going with newburn? (that's his photography buddy who he hasn't hung out with in YEARS...)
dad (after a pause of about three seconds): yesssss. i'm going with newburn.
me (after waiting for him to add "yeah, that's the ticket!" to the end of that statement): okay. so you gonna call me when you get there, right?
dad (now trying to catch up with his daughter who he evidently thought was fee dee hut da eee dee yut): well nikki, we won't be near any phones.
me: dad, are you serious? you do have a mobile phone. you're calling me from it now. (when you could have just called me from the HOME phone, seeing as you're trying to imply you're HOME.) if i tried to go on a trip and not call you to let you know i got there safely, you'd have a fit.
silence...probably while dad tried to come up with something else to say. didn't think it would be this fucking difficult, did you daddy?
dad: well i'll be leaving pretty early in the morning.
me (after saying to myself "what the fuck does that have to do with anything?!?): um, okay. and when you get there, just call.
dad: okay.

i spent the remainder of the night stewing on that, cuz my instinct is telling me his ass is lying. next day rolls around, i get no phone call from dad. i call him early afternoon...no answer. later that night, i get a call from him. now, i want you to guess what happened:

a. there was no phone signal at the swamp, which is why he didn't call.
b. he didn't go and his phone was somehow misplaced for an entire day....which is why he didn't call.
c. he comes up with some elaborate reason he didn't go and doesn't even bother to explain why he didn't call.




me (so cynical at this point i don't even wanna hear what he come up with): hey dad.
dad: hey nikki.
me: so how was the trip?
dad: well, we didn't go. something happened to the van and [insert ridiculously elaborate tale about a van, a chick he mentioned by name who was evidently going with them (but was never mentioned prior to that moment), a few other women who i think were added to the tale cuz it was beginning to sound like he was going somewhere with just the one chick and he had to cover his tracks, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a father who's up a shit creek with that bullshit lie he pulled literally out of the crack of his ass. oh...and absolutely no mention of newburn...]
ten minutes later...

me: so you didn't go.
dad: no, but we're gonna go to helen, ga tomorrow.
me (after rolling my eyes cuz really...i want to be like "just stop. you are truly insulting my intelligence here...): so you're gone the whole day?
dad: yes.
me: well call when you get there.
dad: okay.

next day comes and goes. i don't speak to him until the day after that day(monday), at which point he tells me he went to helen, ga, then to the movies. i'm shaking my head the whole time. whateverz.

on tuesday, i called him to ask what movie he'd seen. i said it was cuz i was going on a date later that night and wanted to know of a good movie to check out. really i just wanted to see what he'd say.

me: you left a message saying you went on friday and then you told me yesterday you went on sunday. so what did you see?
dad (after another fucking pause): i saw the rocket. that movie about ernie davis.
me: really? who's in it?
dad (and i quote): i don't remember. that black guy. you know who i'm talking about.

at this point, i am NO LONGER ABLE (also picked up from opinionated diva). i cut the convo short and get off the phone.

OMG...MY DAD IS ONE OF THOSE MEN! reality is a bitch...

aiight, so here are some questions:

1. do you think he's cheating? i mean, it's not like i caught him with his pants down, but his lying is beyond atrocious.
2. have you ever had to deal with a cheating parent? what did you do?!?
3. if you haven't dealt in it before, what would you do?
4. how do you continue to be around someone who obviously cares very little about the damage he's causing to the family?

the battle continues...

the beginnings of the battle can be read here



"listen to me, nikki. there's a reason you don't feel right about this..."

"STOP THAT!"

"i know you're a bit weak right now..."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"but don't ignore me just because you don't like what i'm telling you."

"ARGHHHH!" pussy screamed, "I'M GONNA KILL THAT BITCH!"

she charged straight towards her target with murderous intent, but was restrained moments before she could reach her.

"and whatever you do," after a quick glance in pussy's direction, instinct rushed to finish, her consonants crammed into a bloated plea, "don'tlistentoyourpussy! she'stheonewho gotyouinthismessinthefirstplace!"

then with a smirk thrown at pussy's crunchy visage, she scooted to her chair where she made a tired slide into the hot-pink microfiber folds of the plush cushions. once seated, the protective shield auto-activated, her glass of red kool aid rising perfectly chilled from the left arm, a krazy straw gangsta-leaning against the lip. she reached for her refreshment, her attention on pussy, who was now dancing with rabid grace against brain's restraining arms, her mouth emitting an empty menace at once absorbed by the protective shield. instinct shot her the middle finger, then pressed a button on the right arm of the chair, putting it into reclining position with a simultaneous massage action. pussy and the others vanished from instinct's view as the force field around her went opaque.

"AAAHHHH!" instinct sighed in relief, "i loooooooooove this chaaaaaaaair!"

she settled into the ergonomic curves, offering another silent thanks to the anonymous benefactor who sent it weeks ago. the time following the arrival of the chair had been the equivalent of world war lll. prior to that there had been months of relative peace as nikki dated a number of men, none of whom inspired enough emotional or physical investment necessary for internal conflict. a fragile truce had been established between brain, pussy, and instinct during this time. heart had been sent away to fortify her defenses shortly after nikki began dating following her divorce. heart, after years of living a functional existence, had been eager to bask naked on nikki's sleeve and soak up some male attention. unfortunately, she was unnecessarily bruised due to premature exposure. dating is a brutal business and heart was simply too weak to be an active participant, at least during the initial stages.

so brain, instinct, and pussy had held down the fort. all was well until the first major skirmish...the guy who was the really good kisser but couldn't hold a conversation with both hands and a bucket. pussy had witnessed potential in his soft lips and was already anticipating him working them over her. brain on the other hand had fallen asleep on more than one occasion during nikki's attempts to maintain a conversation with this cat.

nikki, desperately sifting through discarded topics to recover something worth discussing, had latched onto the (usually) tried and true conversation saver with guys.

"so, i remember you saying earlier you enjoy watching sports," she began with marginal excitement, "i'm a HUGE nfl fan. what about you?"

"definitely not," he replied, the words draped elegantly in his disdain, "i don't get off on grown men tackling each other over a ball. i prefer [indistinguishable cuz at that point, nikki had tuned his ass out.]

"THAT'S IT," exclaimed brain over his babble, "HE'S GAY."

brain stormed from the area, her exit wiping all semblance of intelligence from nikki's face. nikki blinked, her lack of cognition shooting blank looks into the sudden silence.

"uh..."

"oh SHIT. nikki sounds like an IDIOT," pussy panicked, "if she doesn't get her shit together i'm NEVER gonna get fucked!"

she turned to instinct, who was lounging on her then mildly uncomfortable plastic folding chair, kool aid in her left hand as she watched the theatrics with surprising indifference. instinct lifted her brow in response to pussy's pained perusal.

*silence*

pussy's stare was now twisted from profuse pleading. instinct became confused. this wasn't typical pussy behavior at ALL.

"surely you don't expect me to do something about it," instinct yelled in disbelief, "my work here is already done and i didn't even have to put down my drink!"

and then it happened.

pussy's lips began trembling.

her facade fell in pubic misery to the floor.

there was some loud sniffling...then...

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"oh my god," instinct watched in complete shock. pussy was wailing like an infant. her normally beautiful face began to resemble asshole with her lips all dry and brittle and pursed so tightly instinct was sure they would implode into themselves.

the glass fell from her fingers to crash on the floor as she jumped up from her seat.

"I'M GOING TO GET BRAIN!"

instinct ran from the room to retrieve brain. pussy watched her leave.

"what a dumb broad," she muttered as she turned to the controls and flipped on the mic.

"nikki...here's what you need to do..."

instinct caught up with brain, grabbed her without speaking, and began dragging her back to the control room.

"you ain't about to leave me there by myself with that crazy heffa," instinct was mumbling to herself, her steps hurried with worry, "you're gonna FIX THIS."

"what the hell are you talking about?!?" brain questioned, her irritation evident as she snatched her arm from instinct's grasp, "who's the 'crazy heffa'? oh NO. WHAT DID NIKKI DO?!?"

"it ain't NIKKI! it's PUSSY!" instinct shouted in exasperation, as she turned to face her. "see, i can deal with her bleeding, you know, cuz it has nothing to do with me, right? but then that chick started PLEADING..."

brain gasped in horror.

"it gets worse."

brain stood frozen in anticipation.

"that heffa had the nerve to WEEP!"

"GETDAHELLOUTTAHERE!"

brain begin running towards the control room at a frantic clip.

"oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!"

"i know! that's what i said!" instincted gasped in breathless bursts from behind her.

brain and instinct crashed into the room just as the monitors show nikki kissing the guy.

"OH SHIT!" instinct and brain both bellowed.

pussy was leaning against the control panel, contentment contorting her features into pre-coital bliss.

"yeeeeeeeessssssss" pussy moaned, the creamy contents of her mouth dripping onto the floor.

"damn," instinct and brain both turned away from the disgusting sight of pussy slobbering all over herself. brain pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and reached behind herself to blindly offer it to pussy.

"PLEASE clean that up."

"really, that has go to be the nastiest thing i've seen in bodily functions," instinct said.

"you must not get out much," brain answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

brain and instinct decided to ride it out, primarily so they could shut pussy up, if only for a little while. unfortunately, they'd forgotten how messy she could be. instinct retreated to her chair, ultimately being forced to stand on it so she wouldn't mess up her keds with that creamy shit all over the floor. brain, after years of having to wade through folks bullshit, was already wearing a rubber suit along with a pair of thigh high thick-soled, stain-proof boots.

things were going well for the most part. instinct and brain kept themselves occupied while pussy tried to get her rocks off. they didn't dare leave the room for fear pussy would have nikki do something crazy like declare her undying love for a football-hating loser. it's one thing to kiss him, but to declare any kind of affection would have been blasphemous.

brain was doing a crossword puzzle when she felt pussys presence in front of her. brain looked up. pussy was no longer happy.

"you're right. we gotta get away from this cat pronto."

brain was perplexed.

"what do you mean? weren't you just enjoying this guy and his kisses?"

"that was then, this is now. get nikki out of there."

brain gave pussy another strange look, then got up and walked to the control panel. she flicked on the mic.

"nikki, he hates football. get the fuck outta there."

instinct, who was caught up in her x-men comic book, looked up just as brain sends the command to nikki.

"what's up?"

"pussy said we gotta get nikki out of there, so that's what i'm doing." replied brain.

instinct cast a suspicious look at pussy.

"what happened, pussy," she asked as she crossed her arms, "you put us through all these fucking changes and now you ending the game prematurely? what gives?!?"

pussy didn't answer for a minute, still stewing over the fact she wasn't gonna get laid. when she was calm enough to speak, the words were pushed through clenched teeth.

"nikki felt his crotch."

"oh. NO." brain moaned, "dude sporting a wee wittle wee wee?!? isn't this cat like 6'2?!? how he gonna be that tall and have a little dick?!? that's false advertising! tall = big dick. shit, it's right there in the anatomy books!"

"maybe we should get nikki interested in the short guys again. their dicks weren't tremendously long but a few turned out to be the thick tree trunk kind," instinct chimed in.

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?" pussy exclaimed. "it's not that he had a small dick! y'all know i ain't that damn shallow!"

brain and instinct both looked at her like she had grown a second head. pussy bristled.

"oh come on!" the words burst from pussy's lips after a few moments of disbelieving silence, "nikki had her hand down there for about three minutes before she found his balls. y'all know that's a DEALBREAKER for ALL OF US!"

brain ran to the control panel to find nikki fishing for a way to extract herself from the situation.

"my goodness. is this woman COMPLETELY HELPLESS without me?!?"

she turned on the mic and yelled.

"JUST TELL HIM YOU'RE A LESBIAN!"

instinct and pussy fell out laughing.

nikki was confused for a minute, then came up with the brilliant way to get rid of the football-hating loser.

"i'm so sorry," she stated with care for his feelings, "but i just remembered i'm a lesbian."

then she grabbed her purse and got up to leave, remembering at the last minute to put a butch pimp to her gait.

back inside, brain was cringing.

"that was NOT a smooth outro. see, this is what happens when we don't work as a team."

instinct and pussy nodded in agreement.

"i think we should make a pact here and now to work together," brain began in earnest, " otherwise, we're gonna have nikki looking bad and then she's gonna be unhappy and when she's unhappy, we ALL suffer."

so it was on that day instinct, brain, and pussy made a pact to work as a team to ensure nikki's happiness.

things went well for about a week.

and then nikki met redrum and suddenly all bets were off.

questions to be answered in the next episode:

1. where da hell is heart? is she coming back?
2. who sent instinct that chair...that seems kinda suspicious
3. will redrum be enough to satisfy everyone or will pussy be the one to rule the day yet again?!?

idiot in bold

this has been one of those surreal weeks i keep thinking isn't really happening because shit is too crazy for it to be reality.

for the record, i'm required to tell you folk my celibacy is officially over, at least for the time being. he made a point of looking at the blog this week to see if i would mention the fact that he blew my back out, so here's the requisite "he blew my back out" statement.

aiight, back to regular programming...

so as i said, this week has been one of those crazy weeks. it began with the 'blow out' session sunday morning, followed with an immediate case of 'catching feelings' ignited by the intense nature of said session along with the fact that nikki really hadn't had it put on her like that in...okay, to tell how long is to really tell on myself, but safe to say it had been more than a hot minute...try hot decade...

so i caught feelings...was thinking about this cat all day sunday, into monday morning, into monday evening enroute to the roots concert...

5:12 p.m.: i'll be at the roots concert tonight so u won't be able to reach me 4 a few hours. starts at 7:30.

5:57 p.m.: oh. uh-huh

5:59 p.m.: i knew that was coming. that's why i'm taking photos

6:09 p.m.: flirting & out & about - ok then

6:12 p.m.: i told u how i felt about u. that hasn't changed. however, i can't bank that u feel as strongly as i do. i can't cut myself off based on 'maybe'.

6:42 p.m.: oh, so guess u still want 2 see others then.

6:44 p.m.: HELL nah. not even a little bit.

6:48 p.m.: well then, just don't date other guys and/or accept their advances and it'll be all good!

7:02 p.m.: i had no intentions of doing so. however, you're asking me to place alot of faith in this situation when u aren't even sure u want to be with me.

[okay, what's taking this mofo so long to answer me?!?!?]

7:35 p.m.: enjoy the show then & u be good!

[nice sidestep, shawty...]

7:38 p.m.: i'm always good

7:38 p.m.: i mean BEHAVE!!!

7:39 p.m.: i always behave

so now i'm at the concert venue, lounging in a chair, nursing a second pale ale and simmering on all the signs from the weekend letting me know i done fucked up by fucking this cat...

when the unthinkable happened...

7:53 p.m.: u thinkin bout me?

8:06 p.m.: it's obvious you aren't as into me as i'm into u so i'm gonna let u do u. it's aiight. i had a great time this weekend. thanks for that.

8:15 p.m.: what the f u talking about? why folk always gotta be jumping 2 conclusions? can i get a minute 2 breathe here?

8:19 p.m.: i am being totally unreasonable, i admit it. however, it's quite simple. if i was still making myself available romantically to others after this weekend, u would question my sincerity. either u feeling me or u not. there shouldn't be doubt there.

8:21 p.m.: i worked today. i am trying 2 nap 4 a bit now. please chill! please give me a minute here!

8:22 p.m.: u said it yourself. u know early if u want to be with someone and u don't waste time. i don't want to get hurt. i like u too much.

8:25 p.m.: i like u too! i didn't mean like a day or two. i meant i know after a few months of dating someone.

8:30 p.m.: okay. that's cool. like i said. i know i'm being unreasonable. i don't fall often but i do fall hard. i'm sure you're protective of your feelings too. no one wants to be open for rejection. i rather just end it before that happens.

8:33 p.m.: u wanting 2 end it already so u don't get hurt???

8:37 p.m.: i don't want to end it. i'm sayin it's hard for me to be cool when i feel so vulnerable towards u. i'm sure u have ended a situation before if u thought they were just hanging onto u until something else showed up.

8:42 p.m.: u just hanging onto me until something else comes along? what?

8:45 p.m.: no. i'm saying that if u felt that was the case, u would end it before u were rejected. in my case, i have no guarantee you're not dating or pursuing other women, so i have to wonder if i'm the one u r holding onto until something better comes along.

8:52 p.m.: of course i'm feeling u!-geez- can i get a minute to breathe here? i'm tired. call u tomorrow.

9:24 p.m.: of course i'm feeling u-geez-can i get a minute to breathe here? i'm tired. call u tomorrow.

9:26 p.m.: i got the message. i'm stepping back so u can get your moment to breathe. talk to u tomorrow.

aiight, a few questions of an immediate nature popped into my head after this exchange:

1. what in the FUCK were you thinking?!? you have NEVER engaged in the act of tipsy texting! you laugh at OTHER PEOPLE who tipsy text!

2. WHERE IN THE GAWTDAMN DID YOUR SWAGGER GO?!? come on...the sex was spectacular but ain't no friggin way you should have let it steal your swagger so easily. this cat got you acting like jill scott in 'insomnia'...changing you from a woman of substance into a woman sheer from insanity!

3. really nikki...why did you fuck him? i know you said you just wanted to take the edge off of the horniness but THIS is the reason you don't do casual sex. if it's bad, you can walk away. however, if it's good...he gotta beat you off with a 'get up offa me bitch' stick...after the pepper spray and taser don't work.

4. what you gonna say to him later? i suggest it be something along the lines of "some chick just grabbed my crackberry and started texting you. by the time i got it back from her, she'd said all kinds of crazy shit to you. i would apologize for what was said, but it wasn't me, so no apology is necessary, right?" if that doesn't work, tell him you have multiple personality disorder cuz you damn sure acted like a crazy heffa.

5. do you even want him like that? sure, it wasn't just the sex that made him appealing. so dude is smart, well-read, funny, quirky, and you have all kinds of things in common on top of the fact that he's highly sexual. look how he got you acting? is he bringing out the best in you or the worst in you? it looks like he got you feeling more than a little insecure about yourself, and that ain't NEVER good. NOBODY gets that kind of power, sista. you betta recognize and hold firm to your beliefs about yourself. if this is how things are gonna go, then no matter how good the sex is or how many things you might have in common, you gonna have to bounce up outta there.

6. do you like yourself right about now? i'm guessing that's a no. go back to question number five and think about that one again...aiight, now reflect on it ONE MO TIME.

7. you're talking to yourself AND answering. NIKKI, YOU ACTING CRAZY! this means you're probably dealing with what is commonly referred to as cocaine dick, an adicktion affuckting alot of females (unfortunately administered by only a small number of dick dealers being reused among the chickenheads). the only known cure for this is to run in the opposite direction AS FAST AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.

8. what in da hell is 'this'?!? what is there to end when there ain't nothing started?!?

later that evening dude (from here on known as redrum cuz he had me flipping over killer dick) and i spoke on the tipsy texting incident and ultimately laughed about it, albeit in that slightly uncomfortable way, kinda like when a friend tells a joke that's offensive instead of funny but you don't wanna call him/her out on it so you give the weak laugh hoping he/she see it wasn't funny without you having to tell him/her so.

we still don't really know what's up. he gets jealous if i'm talking to other guys, but he isn't ready to 'make this official' and frankly, neither am i. on the other hand, he doesn't want me dating other guys until we know what's up with us and i'm not much of a fan of the 'wait and see' thing. man...i long for the days of emotional detachment when i could literally love 'em and leave 'em cuz i knew from jump i wasn't gonna let myself get close.

i can't even say i didn't see it coming. i'd been playing with fire for months. there was no way i was gonna keep working myself up before my defenses would melt beneath the heat of that need.

so now i gotta deal with the repercussions of my sudden move. we'll see what happens. in the meanwhile, i'll just sit back and savor those moments from this weekend past when i finally experienced physical intimacy and contemplate how i cheated myself, cuz it would have been so much better had the emotional intimacy been there, too.

i wonder if we can even get that now.