Mia: Shaken Not Stirred


The true life stories of a NYC female.

Monday, January 30, 2006

The Book of Daniel...


I’m a fan of Ellen Burstyn and Aidan Quinn and because of this decided to check out “The Book of Daniel” when it premiered several weeks ago and was instantly hooked. In a nutshell The Book of Daniel is basically a soap opera revolving around a pill popping Episcopalian priest named Daniel (Aidan Quinn) who talks to and sees the religious icon Jesus on a daily basis. Unlike other shows where the dad is a servant of God this family is not “Leave It To Beaver” perfect, far from it. They’ve got some serious drama going on; there’s a daughter who was selling weed, a gay son, a promiscuous adopted son, an Alzheimer afflicted grandma, a pot smoking (she’s ill) housekeeper and to top it off Daniel’s dad an over critical Episcopalian bishop is having an affair with Daniel’s superior (Burstyn). Daniel is also doing business with the mob as a result of his deceased brother-in-law stealing three million dollars in church funds. With his Italian Catholic priest friend acting as the middle man Daniel turned to the mob in an attempt to find his brother- in- law and the stolen money. After the guy is found dead and the money is recovered Daniel is forced to hire a gay (in the closet) mafia affiliated contractor to build a school as a condition to getting the money back.

Of course any show/movie/song that remotely touches on the subject of religion in a less than divine way is bound to stir up some controversy with the religious sector of this country. War parties were set up over the fact that Daniel had heart to heart chats with the religious icon Jesus. The thing is these people started protesting the show sight unseen. don’t see what the big deal was it wasn’t as if Jesus was rolling up a blunt getting high, chillin’ at the local “gentleman’s club” spending church donations on lap dances, or surfing the net for kiddie porn. The role of Jesus on the show was in my opinion a way of giving a physical voice to Daniel’s subconscious. I had heard that the show was having trouble lining up sponsors because of its’ so called controversial nature. Still I was really surprised when I turned on my television this past Friday expecting to see the show and instead heard that “The Book of Daniel can now be seen in its entirety on mnbc.com” and an episode of Law and Order was shown instead. I was livid, not so much over the show but because of the reason that the show was not on, it smacked of “Big Brother”. It had nothing to do with ratings but everything to do with the financial pressure exercised by the religious fanatics of this country against potential sponsors of the show.

Ever since Janet Jackson’s boob made it’s debut at the Super Bowl a couple of years ago this country has been losing it’s mother hubbing mind. The conservatives of this country have been flexing their censorship muscles in the media with considerable success. They’ve been foisting religious beliefs on the political process of this country, witness the arguments against gay marriages and the never ending battle to preserve women’s “right to choose”. One of the wonderful things about being an American is the privilege of the many freedoms were have and often take for granted; freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom to get my ass up off the sofa and change the television if I find a program offensive. However it seems to me that the “Praise Be Jesus” population of this country is slowly taking over, if you doubt it take a look at who is in the White House and who’s being appointed to the Supreme Court these days and that my friends scares me even more than the thought of Paris Hilton doing Shakespeare.

A couple of semesters ago I did a project for photography class on my interpretation of freedom and it was an eye opener. One of my favorite shots (shown at the beginning of this post) was of a guy wearing a t-shirt promoting a band named, “Jesus is a Cunt”. When I presented the photo in class I was pounced upon like a Christian in a den full of lions. If my classmates could have gotten away with tarring and feathering me I’m sure a few would have tried. What they failed to realize was that the photo was about freedom, the freedom of the band to choose the offensive name, the freedom of the guy to wear it and my freedom to shoot and present the photo. This photo was a visual record of the result of American freedom in its many wonderful forms. While I don’t want to take away the freedom of “The Praise Be Jesus” sector of this country I do wish they’d lay off The Big Brother mode and let us make up our own minds. They raise holy hell over The Book of Daniel while making drivel like Desperate Housewives a huge hit. The thing is that in discussing this show with other people I found that it was basically drawing people back to the church specifically because of the conversations between Jesus and Daniel as a well as Daniel’s sermons. When the boom lowered on the show this past Friday it reminded those very same people of why they stopped going to church in the first place. I found the whole thing rather ironic.

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Posted by @ 6:04 PM
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Sunday, January 29, 2006

Mormon worthy...


Emory sites the arrival of the robin in his area as the harbinger of an early spring. In my neighborhood it’s the arrival of The Mormons. Judging by the number of Mormon flocks that have been spotted in my neighborhood we must be headed for an early spring. Easily identifiable the flocks of Mormons look like poster children for small town USA; mostly blonde, good looking college aged kids sporting “Men In Black” type of suits.

Although their natural habitat is Salt Lake City, they are migrating setting up nests in my city, venturing into my neighborhood. They stand on the corners of our busy streets usually in commercial areas like the local mall, or mass transit hubs with huge Kool - Aid smiles that would put an Osmond to shame. A few days ago I had the chance to watch them in action. They approached the public flashing toothy smiles holding the Mormon book inches away from their faces. I felt bad for them as the people looked down at the book and waved the Mormons away. I think the Mormons failed to research the dynamics of my ‘hood because if they had they would have known that my neighborhood is overwhelmingly Born Again Christians, and Roman Catholics with the occasional sprinkle of Baptists and Muslims.

No one stopped to talk with the Mormons that day, people getting off the train were in a hurry to catch the bus a couple of blocks away. The Mormons walked with them until the end of the block, never giving up until the traffic light changed enabling the pedestrians to make their get away by crossing the street. Usually I feel bad for them well actually for any religion salesperson trying to make converts on the city streets. When approached I will stop and listen to what they have to say simply out of courtesy. It seems wrong somehow to brush off someone who is trying to save your soul. However the Mormons that flock in my area don’t really seem interested in talking to me when I am by myself. They don’t stop me unless I am in the company of my mother or any other person whose skin color is lighter than mine. They seem to have a specific group of people they want to talk to maybe it’s because they feel safer talking to that group.

I watched the flock of Mormons intently because I wanted to see if I was right about my theory about the people they chose to stop. They didn’t stop “ethnic” looking people. They didn’t stop the blacks, or tanned skinned Latinos like me. Instead they went after people like my mother who is so fair in complexion that she never tans; she just turns pink at the slightest indication of a stray sun ray. The Mormons well at least this particular group on this particular day were proving my theory correct. I decided that on this day I would go out of my way to avoid them. I was in a hurry to get home, it was rush hour. I knew that on this day they were going to stop me. I already saw them eyeing me, calculating how much time it would be before I reached them. I knew it wasn’t really me they were interested in talking to. I was going to be stopped by the Mormons because of whom I was with. For I was like a beacon of light on a foggy night guiding ships safely into the harbor; I was in the company of my significant other, my boy friend, a white man. On that day I was Mormon worthy!

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Posted by @ 1:14 AM
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Wednesday, January 25, 2006

God Bless Morning Star Farms!


In the interest of good health Jane quit smoking and I have given up meat and fried foods. I’m a nerd there I said it. It seems that I am developing some of my mother’s old allergies. Meat makes me sick. So I’ve quit cold turkey no pun intended…wait that’s not meat it’s poultry right? I get a headache and feel nauseous after consuming meat, not to mention it’s been giving me skin reactions as well. The giving up fried food part was because of my heart. I was born with a minor heart problem but my doctor sweats bullets whenever he finds out I had a French fry so for his sake and the well being of my heart I have said adios to French fries. In all honestly I’ve always preferred them baked anyway but when you’re on the run and only have a couple of pesos Mickey D’s is the place.

It’s been quite a shock to my stomach to be denied my moms bistec en salsa ( steak in a red sauce) and Aunt Nora’s lamb chops. My poor tummy has always looked forward to the occasional hamburger or steak. So for now I’m munching on the chicken hard core. I can’t eat fish because I’m allergic to it. Told you I was a nerd. However joy oh joy I discovered Morning Star Farms and bless their little capitalistic hearts they make a whole line of vegan products! There’s only so much veggies I can eat man. Imagine my shock last night when my mom served me Buffalo wings and I found out not only were they not Buffalo but they were not chicken either. It’s some type of soy/chick pea contraption! I went to their website and found they make “steak” strips and a whole other bunch of stuff. GOD BLESS THEM!!! I can actually eat eggs again! I gotta check out the site more thoroughly maybe they make mock shrimp too. I hope I don’t get hooked on the stuff only to have a study come out claiming they’ll give me anal warts or something.

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Posted by @ 3:55 AM
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Who Knows...


It was a record breaking sixty three degrees in New York on Saturday! It was impossible to stay indoors. The gentle wind caressing the city seemed to beckon us all to come out and play; everyone seemed to fall under its' spell because the streets were packed. It’s as if everyone had the same thought, leave the cars at home and walk. Even though the sky was a beautiful blue and the sun was shining brightly to me the best part of the day was the air; it had the cleansing feel of winter with a hint of spring sweetness. I’ll try to explain it so bear with me. It probably won’t make any sense but the heck welcome to my brain.

Before I launch into an explanation about the feel of the air I guess I should let you in on a small secret about me. In life I’ve found very few people around me “get me”. When I try to describe things like this they inevitably look at me and say, “WTF? Damn you’re weird.” I’ve heard it all my life from my peers. While they may have great affection and respect for me they always find me kind of weird. Not weird in a pulling wings off of insects talking to my imaginary friend kind of way, just different. They’ve never been able to put me in any one particular category, which is just fine with me. My mother says that while other people may march to the tune of a different drummer, I am the drummer. It doesn’t bother me at all that others find me “weird” I’ve never felt the need to “fit in” I like being unique , seeing the world through my own eyes , forming my own opinions, adhering to my own values and moral compass even though it may not be in step with the feelings and actions of those around me. I’m the type of person that notices the hues in the sky, the colors of the moon, and the shape of the clouds. I’m the one that stares at sunsets and finds peace looking out at the ocean and can smell weather changes in the air long before the weatherman let’s me know the deal. I take note of the foliage and birds around me. Crap like that does not fly well in the land of The Bronx.

For me each season has a different feel and I just don’t mean the obvious changes in weather. The arrival of each season awakens different feelings and paints vivid pictures in my mind, complete with seasonal soundtracks I must admit. The funny thing is that the “seasonal soundtracks” playing in my mind always involve music from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s. I’ve never been able to figure out why it’s just oldies, but it is and it’s never just one song it’s a whole bunch of them. The Doors, Gerry and The Pace makers, Hendrix, Joplin, The Chi-Lites, Main Ingredient, Eddie Holman, Marvin Gaye, Al Green and Aretha Franklin are among the artists who they are all up in there. It’s one of those things that can’t be explained. My mom’s Buddhist friend says that those are the remnants of a past life. Personally I think it’s due to my mom wearing headphones on her belly while she was pregnant with me.

Okay now back to Saturday, the air felt like love, it was gentle and caressing kind of like a spring day. Told you it was hard to explain. Small gusts of warm air kicked up every now feeling wonderful against my face. I sniffed the air almost expecting to pick up the scent of flowers instead I picked up the scent of the ocean, which I love. A flock of sea gulls (no not the band) flew over me every now and then emitting a cry. Maybe it was the weather, maybe it’s because the new school term is only a week a way and I’m looking forward to it; but as I watched the sea gulls I got this odd feeling. It’s hard to describe the feeling. It always happens to me when a major change is headed my way.
I wish I could tell if it’s a good one or a bad one all I know is that I feel something is headed this way. The feeling didn’t last for more than a minute but when it was over I felt a smile take over my face and as I looked up into the sky at the gulls I started humming, “Who Knows” from West Side Story, “Could be! Who knows? There's something due any day; I will know right away, Soon as it shows. It may come cannonballing down through the sky, Gleam in its eye, Bright as a rose! “

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Posted by @ 2:58 AM
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Friday, January 20, 2006

Crazy Wenches...


After flame broiling my finger and risking my livers future health while celebrating my friends re-birth in the form of finally breaking free of her boyfriend I get a call. Her boyfriend stopped by to see her. Prior to their break up he had not seen her in over a month.

A: Mia he said Florida he’s going to move to Florida if I don’t get back together with him!

M: And this is a bad thing because? For God’s sake it’s only Florida which I hear it actually really nice this time of the year. It’s not like he’s moving to the slums of Calcutta.

A: I don’t know what to do!

M: what do you mean you don’t know what to do?

A: I love him!

M: Drama. Let’s list the facts here; He’s been cheating on you with a chick and cheating on her with her former best friend. That equals 2 chicks he’s cheating on you with. When your grandma passed away he couldn’t be bothered to be with you at the wake. He was no where to be found. Why was that again? Oh yeah he was with the other female. He gave you a pewter ring that he also happened to buy for the other female. The same exact ring, with the same exact inscription! Not to mention that he tried to kick it to me not knowing I was your friend. I know you love him but where oh where pray tell is his love for you? Didn’t he tell you when you found out about the other girl that he was planning to dump you anyway, he was just waiting until the holidays passed?

I could tell she was confused, we said nothing for a moment and then she hit me with the big one…

A: Do you think I will lose my friends if I get back together with him?

M: Hold up did you break up with him to please your friends?

Dead silence. I run my fingers through my hair reminding myself of my dad when he is exasperated. I feel sorry for her, I really do.

M: Look, don’t break up with him because of what your friends think. Do it for yourself. If you want to stay with him then do it. It’s all on you, but whatever you do it for the right reason.

A: I think he’s changed this time.

M: And I want to believe I grew an inch taller but my measuring tape keeps telling me it’s all in my head.

A: Rebecca said if I went back to him she’d never talk to me again.

Angela and Rebecca have been best friends since high school so I know this is hard for both of them The thought of ending their friendship is painful especially over this guy who treats Angela like dirt. But the truth is Rebecca can’t take it no more. .

M: Angela it’s your life. Live it in a way that will make you happy, your friends can’t live your life for you or dictate how you should live it. Plus I’m sure she doesn’t mean it. But if you decide to stay with him then you’re going to have to deal with whatever comes your way and shut the fuck up. When he returns to his true form and I trust he will, shut the fuck up. Don’t bitch and moan because you have no right to. You chose the medicine and if the tonic is bitter have a sip of water, shut the fuck up, and keep it moving. If you don’t want your friends hating him then stop complaining to them about every thing he does to you. Keep that drama to yourself.

A: I don’t know what to do. Will you stop being my friend?

M: (sigh) No I’ll still be your friend. You know Angela no one can make this decision for you. You have to do it on your own and you can’t let your friends influence your opinion. Take your time and think about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

By this time my head was throbbing we have this same conversation at least 5 times a day. I am tired, I am drained. She is obsessed with this dude. He is like a drug to her she needs a 12 step program. She’s going through withdrawal. Angela suffers from fairy tale syndrome she thinks that the first guy you meet is the one you ride off into the sunset with and live happily ever after. Obviously nothing was learned after 5 seasons of Sex and The City.



Just then my other friend calls me. This one has been dating a guy with a live- in girl friend which to me is just as good as being married. She’s been catching a lot of flack from everyone over this. I limit myself to the occasional smart ass remarks because well let’s face it it’s what I do I can’t help myself. She knows how I feel about interfering in a relationship I’ve already lectured on this subject once already. It’s like beating a dead horse.


R: Mia he broke up with his girlfriend!

M: Really? Amazing. She moved out?

R: No, not yet he gave her a week to move her stuff out.

M: Aha I see…but physically she’s still there?

R: Yeah

M: Okay

I don’t know why but I get the hunch she’s lying about his breaking up with his girlfriend. My bullshit detector is beeping like crazy. I think she made this up to get us off her case and to accept the bastard.

R: We’re going on our first official date tomorrow afternoon!

M: We’re supposed to go to school tomorrow. You’ve got to get the over tally for a couple of classes not to mention we need to get our bursar sheets and we need to look into the Masters program thingy.

R: But it’s our first date!

M: Yea nena! Wonderful! So the boning fest you’ve guys have been having all over New York doesn’t count?

R: No. Now that he is single this is our first official date.

M: Hello earth to Reina! This is important! You need to get into that class in order to graduate. There are no seats left. I repeat you need this class and you’re not the only one. Others will be there too trying to get in on the over tally and even that is limited. First come, first serve. Did I mention you need this class in order to graduate on time?

R: It’s our first date!

I don’t bother to tell her that if he really broke up with his girl friend there’s no need for their official first date to be during the day, during office hours. It could be pushed back into the evening. After all New York is the city that’s opened 24-7.


At that point something in me just snapped maybe it was PMS I dunno. I miss Jackie, my gentle giant the one friend who comes to me for advice and actually listens to what I tell her. I love that girl. Who are these crazy bitches and what happened to the self confident women that once were my friends?! Who the hell are these stupid heffas so desperate for a man in their lives that they will put up with anything? Women who once upon a time were strong women have now basically surrendered their free will and dignity. All in the name of hooking up a guy. The kicker is that I know they are desperate because in the past they never would have looked at these guys twice. They are not even hot guys! Not even room temperature guys! I gotta give those boys mega props though they must have honed their mackin’ skills to have these wenches eating out of their paws. I salute those bastards!

M: You know what? Do whatever you want. I’m not your mother; you don’t need my approval to go on your date. We’ll do the school thing on another day. I’m done registering for my classes, my schedule is all set.

She talks about how she’s never felt this way about any guy before. I’ve heard this song before…with every other guy she’s ever been with. I do the mental tally and say nothing.

R: He’s my soul mate.

Oh yeah man I have heard this speech many times before.

M: I’m sure his live-in girl feels the same way too.

R: He broke up with her! You know she doesn’t cook or clean?!

M: Really and you do?

R: Yeah I told him I can cook and I do housework.

M: Liar.

R: No, I cook and clean!

M: Since when? I’ve been coming over to your house for 6 years now and I have never ever seen you make a meal. Oh my bad excuse me; your mom called you once from work and told you to put the chicken in the oven, a chicken she had seasoned. And since when do you clean? Your mom she does all the cleaning. All you do is throw your stuff around the house and when she gets home she cleans up after you. You don’t even wash your own dishes! Listen whenever a guy cheats on a girl he never sings her praises he will bash her to the end he’s gotta make her look bad in order to justify what he’s doing to gullible chicks like you.

she says nothing. I sense she’s mad but as the old spiritual goes the truth shall set you free.

R: Well anyway they broke up.

M: I’ll believe it when I see it… as a matter of fact the day no, no make that the night he invites you over to his crib that’s when I will believe it and eat my hat.

R: He wants us all to go on a double date.

M: Why?

R: Mia he likes you he thinks you’re funny and cool.

M: That’s because I am. I’d rather poke myself in the eye with a hot fork.

R: Mia!

M: What you want that I should lie? I don’t like him and if I get a couple of drinks in me I’m not going to be able to hide that fact. I don’t trust him and if you do wind up being his new girl then you better remember how you met him and keep an eye on him.

R: It’s different with me. He says I’m his soul mate. We have so much in common, we like the same music, the same video games!

I think to myself again with the soul mate shit, wow the same video games, the same music and so trust worthy too…let me start engraving the wedding invitations right now. Guys like him remind me of hookers with retractable hymens. Every person they meet is the first one, they’ve never felt this way before blah blah their love for you will keep them faithful and true meanwhile their eyes are wandering all over the place in search of the bigger better deal.


M: That’s great. I hope everything works out for you guys.

R: Why can’t you be happy for me?

M: I want nothing more than for you to be happy. I just hope he is worthy of your trust. If you don’t mind I’m just gonna keep the cork in the champagne bottle for now.

R: But Mia…

M: Look I don’t want to hear it. Stop trying to sell me this guy. Time will tell what type of person he is. I don’t care; as a matter of fact that’s my new mantra for you guys. I then started chanting my new mantra; Mia, he said I’m too fat… I don’t care. Mia, he’s cheating on me…I don’t care. Mia, he gave me an STD… I don’t care. Mia, he’s taking my money…I don’t care. Mia, he’s making out with another girl in front of me… I don’t care. Mia, he is hitting on my friends… I don’t care. Mia, he voted for Bush!...I don’t care, no wait I do care let’s kick his ass. At this she starts laughing.

R: What?! You’re crazy!

M: What? What? I don’t care.

Just then my mom happened to walk by and saw my face. She asked if I was okay and I asked her to hold on, I needed to talk to her.

M: Listen I gotta go I’ll hit you up tomorrow.

R: Well um okay I hope you feel better.

M: Me too.

My mom basically gave voice to what I had been thinking. I am way too involved in the melodrama going on in my friends lives. This is not a healthy thing for me, I need to step back and let them grow up on their own. I feel sapped of all energy. My feelings make me wonder if I’m cut out to be a shrink at all. Will this be the way I feel about my patients? I take a deep breath.

When it comes to my friends I try to live up to something my mom once told me that made a lot of sense, “Mia a true friend will tell you what you need to hear not just what you want to hear.” That is the type of friend I strive to be, but sometimes people just don’t want to hear the truth. They just want you to blindly approve of whatever they’re doing even though deep down inside they know it’s wrong. By giving them your approval you’re enabling them to party on. I realize my friends just want me to be their enabler but I can’t do it. They both have to do what they feel is right for them and deal with whatever is born as a result of their actions. No matter how much I love these crazy heffas, I can’t protect them from what’s out there or from themselves. Maybe there’s a support group out there for crazy wenches I can sign these two up for. Maybe there’s even one for friends of crazy wenches that I can sign up for.

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Posted by @ 12:50 AM
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Thursday, January 19, 2006

Glad to call him friend...


I’m on good terms with all of my former boyfriends. Friends can never understand how it’s possible and I can’t really explain it, it’s just the way it is. I guess it’s just a mutual respect and affection thing that lives on long after romantic feelings have bitten the dust. I do admit to having one favorite ex in particular. His name is Patrick; a tall, attractive Irish dude w/ beautiful blue eyes. One of my favorite things about him has always been that whenever I’d look at him he turned the coolest shade of crimson known to man. It's always cracked me up.

We met when I was 15 ½ and he was 19 and hit it off immediately. We parted ways over my age; he wasn’t comfortable with our age difference at that time. We met up again when I was 17 but this time I had a boyfriend. Then when I was single he had a girl. We were always victims of bad timing. Throughout the years we’ve been like best friends hanging out together, confiding in each other stuff we didn’t dare share with anyone else. We’ve also been very supportive of each other with whatever was going on in our lives.

When his estranged father died I was the first person that he called and even though he tried to act like it was no big loss, I knew better. I rounded up mutual friends and showed up the next day at the wake unannounced. From a distance I watched as he tried to hold it together. I walked up behind him and rubbed the middle of his back without even turning to look he knew it was me. His best male friend placed his hand on his shoulder. For the rest of the night we didn’t leave his side. He held on tightly to my hand never letting go. Later on he told me that just before I’d arrived he’d been kicking himself in the pants for not asking me to come to the wake with him. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it alone. He told me that when he felt my hand on his back he was felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders he knew he wasn’t alone and he knew I had brought back up as well. That's the way it's always been between us we've always have had each other's backs.


We stopped hanging out with each other about three years ago. Our lives left us little time for each other. I was working 2 jobs and going to school full time, he was in a new relationship and was doing the same and our down time never coincided. Every now and then I’d hear from friends that Patrick had been asking about me and I would tell them to say hello for me.I was thrilled when I learned he had become a father. He'd always been great with my siblings. A little over a month ago I checked a long neglected email account and found an email from him. It had been written 3 months before; in it he addressed me as “itty bitty” and it made me smile. I had forgotten that was his pet name for me. I emailed him my Nextel connect number and we immediately began chirping each other back and forth catching up each other on what was going on in our lives and have stayed in touch since.

This past Monday I got a chirp from Pat he had the day off and was 20 minutes away from my house and wanted to drop in to see me. When he came into the dining room I was sitting at the table my laptop opened up looking up the classes I needed for the upcoming semester. I looked up and stared at him as he talked with my mom. At 26 he still looks like he’s younger and he’d lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw him but something was different…he had facial hair! It was really blonde so you couldn’t really see it. I was happy to see my friend. He looked in my direction and when our eyes met he just stared at me. I smiled at him and he turned that crimson color I remembered so well. When he sat next to me he looked at my hands joking that they were still the smallest hands he’d ever seen. We immediately started joking with each other catching up it was as if time had never gone by. Some people come into your life and never leave instead they become a part of your life a point of reference, a part of your memories. That’s the way it’s always been between me and Patrick. We have a lot of shared memories I’m glad to call him friend.

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Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Finger flambé, tucking and rolling, Angela reborn, a wonderful Saturday night


New York had been experiencing spring like weather for several weeks which is pretty unusual for January. All of that came to an end on Saturday. It was freezing, windy, the rain seemed to be coming down in sheets and the weather man had promised it would all be turning into snow after 11 pm. For once the weather dude was right. It was a perfect night to stay indoors and make it a blockbuster night. However I’d promised a friend I’d do the lounge lizard thing with her and a group of equally brave friends. So for the love of my amiga I ventured out of my warm comfy Bronx cocoon into Queens.

We were celebrating my friend finally breaking up with her boyfriend. She had broken up with the butt wipe several times before, but the breakups never lasted more than 24 hrs. It has now been 3 weeks. He’d pleaded, faked illness, physically threatened her and still she HAD NOT CAVED IN! Anytime she felt like she was about to give in she’d call me and I’d play Dr. Mia, therapist to mistreated girlfriends. Hours upon hours of discussion and an intervention session from another friend and I had paid off…she HAD NOT CAVED IN! Yes indeedy time to celebrate! The hangover and the throbbing finger I had the next day were well worth it.

We were served a round of fancy shmancy drinks, the flaming kind. By the way I’m now of the strong opinion that they should be serving these alongside mini fire extinguishers, Alcohol and fire don’t mix or maybe I should say Mia, alcohol and fire DO NOT mix. At some point when I was handed my booze ala flambé some of the alcohol must have splashed onto my finger …that’s my story and I’m sticking to it…unless you can come up with something better. All I know is that as we raised our glasses to toast our beloved Angela for finally coming to her senses someone quite excitedly I might add, pointed out that my finger was on fire. As they made their wishes and blew on my finger my eyes raced along the crowded table in search of a glass of NON ALCOHOLIC liquid to dunk my finger in. Luckily for me I found a glass of water and put my finger out. After that my finger let me know it was fine by constantly throbbing.

We continued to party on because heaven forbid we should let something as trivial as a flame broiled finger stop us! A good time was had by all especially Reina. Not only did she puke a block away from the lounge but several blocks later she slipped on the snowy streets. The thing was she just didn’t fall, she tucked and rolled people! It was like something out of a movie. She tucked and rolled her way down the street. When she finally stopped rolling, she just sat up unable to get up. I wish I could say that I ran to her rescue or that I even tried to prevent her fall but that is not the case I was laughing too hard to be of any help to her. My bf had to help her up. When she made it to her feet we realized that she had lost both of her earrings. She had them when she left the lounge and she still had them during her open air puke fest, so we can only assume that while she was tucking and rolling her hoops came out. All in all despite the finger flambé and the tucking and rolling it was a wonderful Saturday night, Angela was reborn.
Looking back I think we need to make a list for the next time we chill:

::1:: Make sure Reina is earring free.

::2:: Make sure there’s a fire extinguisher handy.

::3:: Limit Reina to 2 drinks.

::4::Make sure Reina has training wheels on her ass.

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Posted by @ 2:12 PM
3 comment from: Blogger mosan mosan, Blogger Jane, Blogger Mia,


Sunday, January 15, 2006

Pat Robertson puckers up..


Pat Robertson has finally seen the light about those stupid comments he recently made about Israeli Prime minister Sharon’s stroke being a punishment from God for giving up the Gaza strip to the Palestinians. He issued a formal apology to Sharon and Israel. In a letter marked for hand delivery to Sharon's son Omri, Robertson called the Israeli prime minister a "kind, gracious and gentle man" who was "carrying an almost insurmountable burden of making decisions for his nation." Ohhh can’t you see him puckering his lips to kiss butt as he wrote the letter? My tingly Mia senses tell me that there’s some major ass kissing going on…
"My concern for the future safety of your nation led me to make remarks which I can now view in retrospect as inappropriate and insensitive in light of a national grief experienced because of your father's illness," the letter said. I ask your forgiveness and the forgiveness of the people of Israel," Robertson wrote. Yup, mega major ass kissing going on.

I wish I could say that it was deep reflection that caused Roberston to change his mind but it wasn’t. His change of heart was inspired by the love for the almighty greenback. Robertson was supposed to be part of a group building the Christian Heritage Center in the northern Galilee region. The center which I guess is supposed to be some sort of Jesusland of course would have made Robertson a lot of mullah. I wonder though would they’ve had people dressed in apostle costumes greeting the guests like Disneyland? Maybe they would have had a roller coaster in the form of Noah’s Ark. Concessions selling fried fish…seminars on how to make water into wine… sorry my imagination got the best of me. After watching Robertson stick his foot in his mouth and suck the lint balls off of his socks in an attempt to make it all right, Israeli officials decided to kick him off the project… an eye for an eye my butt, nothing says vengeance better than a kick in the ol’ wallet.

Despite the apology, its doubtful Robertson is going to be allowed to a part of the project. The chances of them changing their minds are about as equal of me being able to eat a shrimp without having to go to an emergency room. None. It’s kind of ironic that a man who built his fortune on television ministries is not going to be allowed to be part of a project that is going to include television studios and satellite links for live broadcasts from the Holy Land.

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Nixzmary Brown: The death of a child...


There’s been a case dominating the head lines in New York since Thursday. It concerns a Brooklyn child who suffered horrific abuse at the hands of her parents leading to her death.This is a text book case of society failing a child. There were warning signs every where, agencies dragged their feet, neighbors did nothing. Now the rest of the city is outraged and mourning this child. Fingers are being pointed and blame is being doled out like candy on halloween. The truth is that in that particular community there is enough blame to share. People in the area came in contact with the child every day, they saw, they heard, and most importantly she told them what was going on. Yet no one did a damn thing to protect this child. Too many times in this society people are so afraid of getting involved they’ll turn their heads and look the other way instead of stepping in and helping.The school reported it to ACS but they dragged their feet, they failed to get her out of there or get a warrant to get into the apartment when they were turned away by the step father. The man in charge of her case was an incompetent. While working on her case another child he was supposed to be protecting drowned in a bathtub while in the care of its' drug addicted mother.

Her name was Nixzmary Brown a beautiful Puerto Rican/Pakastani child. She was 7 yrs old and weighed 36 lbs when she died at 4:30 am Wednesday morning. Imagine 36 lbs on a 7 yr old, that’s what a 4 yr old should be weighing. She was singled out for abuse by her step father a 27 yr old man who had been discharged from the army for having kiddie porn. Not content to starve her, and torture her he also sexually abused her. Her mother did nothing to stop him. He beat her to death on Wednesday over a container of yogurt the hungry child had taken a container of yogurt from the fridge without his consent and he flew into a rage. It’s been reported that he used to feed her cat food and lock her in a dark room where she had to use a litter box as a bathroom.

He is being charged with murder, she is being charged with manslaughter. I feel she should be charged with murder as well. This was her baby, she carried her for nine months and brought her into this world. It was her job as a mother to protect her child. Instead she allowed this vile monster to abuse her child.They say she was cried when she was shown her daughters picture on the front page of the newspaper the next day in her cell. There are those who will paint the mother as a victim suggesting that she too was battered at the hands of this small slightly built man. No one ever saw her battered and bruised yet bruises seemed to be part of her child's everyday attire. I'm sorry I don't buy the mother being a victim defense. She had family here in New York she could have turned to, and seemed well aware of how the system worked to get herself out of a shelter and into an apartment. I'm sure while at the shelter she learned about domestic violence assistance etc. it's something that is automatically discussed with shelter residents. I have no pity in my heart for this woman. I refuse to see her as a victim. To me she was simply a woman who put her man before her children.

I strongly feel that every person who knew what was going on should be arrested. Trust me they are easy to find because they are the ones talking to the press right now. They knew a crime was going on and did nothing to stop it. They are just as guilty as the mother. This one man Perry Robinson has been giving interviews to the press "She would say, 'He threatened to kill me and mom and everyone,'" said Perry Robinson, the uncle of one of Nixzmary's playmates. "She was so petrified." Robinson, 49, a retired paralegal, said he noticed the bruises on the spirited girl many times. But he never called the cops. He even described an incident in which Nixzmary hid behind him when she saw her tormentor. He confronted the step father and threatened him with physical harm if he touched Nixzmary again. After making the threat he allowed the child to walk away with her parents. By confiding him she was asking him for help, she didn’t need him to threaten her step father making him even more angry. I’m sure he took out his anger on her. All he needed to do was call the police. I hope this man never gets another night of peaceful sleep for the rest of his life. All he had to do was make a phone call, one phone call.


Story Links:
Bound, beaten, starved, killed
Painfully obvious little girl was abused
ACS feels heat over latest tragedy on its watch
Supervisor: How we botched case

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Posted by @ 2:04 AM
4 comment from: Blogger Aisha, Blogger Steph, Blogger Eugene Weixel, Blogger Jewaira,


Friday, January 13, 2006

Origins of Friday the 13th...


Beware of walking under ladders, and black cats crossing your path it’s Friday the 13th!!! No I’m not talking about those corny slasher flicks. I’m talking about the unluckiest day on our calendar. On occasion this blog makes an attempt to be entertaining, and educational all in one post. Today is one of those days. So as I toss some salt over my shoulder and reach for my lucky rabbit’s foot read up people and learn about the origins of Friday the 13th.

The fear of Friday the 13th is rooted in ancient, separate bad-luck associations with the number 13 and the day Friday. The initial fear of the number 13 goes back to a Norse myth 12 gods having a dinner party at Valhalla, their heaven. In walked the uninvited 13th guest, the mischievous Loki. Once there, Loki arranged for Hoder, the blind god of darkness, to shoot Balder the Beautiful, the god of joy and gladness, with a mistletoe-tipped arrow. Balder died; the earth was plunged into darkness and mourned. So just how did Friday get involved in this? I Blame it on the Christians ... in an attempt to free up time for church and prayer they took 2 separate phobias combined it into one by pointing out biblical references to 13 and Friday thus creating one megaphobia. What are those references you ask? Well here ya go…
1) Judas the apostle who betrayed Jesus, was the 13th guest to the Last Supper.
2) Jesus was crucified on a Friday.
3)‘Twas on a Friday when Eve tempted Adam with that damn apple. I still insist she was framed.
4)It was on a Friday the 13th that the inventor of sibling rivalry Cain killed his brother Abel.


Meanwhile, in ancient Rome they believed that witches reportedly gathered in groups of 12. The 13th was believed to be the devil. As a result of this superstition against the number 13, the number 12 is over worked and number 13 is forced to live in poverty on the fringes of society due to lack of employment. More than 80 percent of high-rises lack a 13th floor. Many airports skip the 13th gate. Hospitals and hotels regularly have no room number 13. On streets in Florence, Italy, the house between number 12 and 14 is addressed as 12 and a half. In France socialites known as the quatorziens (fourteeners) once made themselves available as 14th guests to keep a dinner party from an unlucky fate.

The number 13 and its’ lover Friday were once closely associated with capital punishment as well as the torture of protectors of Christianity. It was on a Friday the 13th way back in 1306, that King Philip of France arrested the revered Knights Templar and began torturing them, marking the occasion as a day of evil. The Knights Templar were a monastic military order formed at the end of the First Crusade with the mandate of protecting Christian pilgrims on route to the Holy Land. Never before had a group of secular knights banded together and taken the monastic vows. They were the first of the Warrior Monks and fought along side King Richard I (Richard The Lion Hearted) and other Crusaders in the battles for the Holy Lands.
In British tradition, Friday was the conventional day for public hangings, and there were supposedly 13 steps leading up to the noose. In comparison the number 12 has lead a charmed life, it can date whatever date of the week it wants and not cause panic. Numerologists consider 12 a "complete" number. There are 12 months in a year, 12 signs of the zodiac, 12 gods of Olympus, 12 labors of Hercules, 12 tribes of Israel, and 12 apostles of Jesus.

There is also a school of thought that sexism is involved in the discrimination against the lovers 13 and Friday. Historians suggest the Christian distrust of Fridays is actually linked to the early Catholic Church's overall suppression of pagan religions and women. In the Roman calendar, Friday was devoted to Venus, the goddess of love. When Norsemen adapted the calendar, they named the day after Frigg, or Freya, Norse goddesses connected to love and sex. Both of these strong female figures once posed a threat to male-dominated Christianity, the theory goes, so the Christian church vilified the day named after. The number 13 could also have been considered pagan because there are 13 months in the pagan lunar calendar. The lunar calendar also corresponds to the human menstrual cycle, connecting the number to femininity. Damn chauvinistic bastards they always find a way to work mentrual cycles into things!

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Posted by @ 10:19 AM
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My Mistress Eyes:: Sonnet 130


One of my favorite sonnets by William Shakespeare read by one of my favorite actors, Alan Rickman.


Sonnet 130:: Alan Rickman:: Shakespeare
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

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Posted by @ 12:48 AM
2 comment from: Blogger Aisha, Blogger Emory,


Thursday, January 12, 2006

Love is love is love...



Aisha asked a very valid question on her blog “Can you love your biological and adoptive children equally?”

I think the answer to that question lies within the individual. Some people can’t. I’ve seen it happen a few times where people adopt kids and then out of the blue have one of their own. I’ve seen the differences in their love for the two children. While they love their adopted child their eyes gleam more for the biological one and spoil that one more. I’ve seen family members say oh so and so is their “real” child feeling the need to distinguish between adopted and biological.


On the other hand I’ve also seen the complete opposite and am happy to say that this seems to be the consensus among families with adopted children.For example I was an only child until my grandmother passed away at the age of 37 after childbirth. As a result my parents raised the newborn infant in addition to three older boys. At the time they were 4, 6, and 7 yrs old. These were my mother’s half brothers. After a few years my parents added 2 more biological children to the brood Steven and Caitlin. Having grown up with my uncles and my siblings in the same house I can honestly tell you I can’t differentiate between the two. I see no difference between my uncle Matt (the infant) and my brother Steven. I love them both the same. Usually I refer to my uncles as my brothers I am only referring to them as my uncles here for blogging purposes and to tell you the truth it doesn’t feel right referring to them as my uncles. To me they are my big brothers (nicknames) Abbie, Gilin, Chino and my little brother Matthew; I am 2 yrs older than him.

My uncles for their part love my parents as if they were their biological parents even though the two oldest boys remember their biological mother. To them my mother, their half-sister is their mom. Their dad was a big part of their life when they were growing up and even though they loved him whenever someone asked them who their father was they always pointed out my father. Now the older boys (28 and 29) are married and each of them has a child of their own and their kids call my parents grandma and grandpa.

When we were growing up my parents treated us all equally, there was never any favoritism towards the biological children. As a matter of fact it never really hit me that they weren’t my brothers until I was in 4th grade and I got one of my uncles old teachers and she referred to my uncle Abbie as my uncle and not my brother. When I told her,” no he is my brother” she told me he wasn’t that she in fact remembered his real mother. That’s when it first hit me that we weren’t siblings. It was a funny thing because when I spoke to my mom about it she told me, “Well what does your heart tell you?” “He’s my big brother ma.” and she replied, “That’s all that matters then not what anyone else says.”

My uncles father my step-grandfather Che treated me as his grand daughter all of my life, he was a doting grandfather to my biological siblings as well. We got away with murder! In his eyes we could do no wrong. He attended all of our school functions, graduations etc. When I was getting ready to graduate from junior high school and had to attend school fairs in order to decide what high school I wanted to apply to it was him that chauffeured me around attending all of the weekend fairs with me. When I graduated from high school he was right there in the audience sitting next to my biological grandfather both of them blubbering as I stormed the stage to get my diploma.


When his oldest son had his first child my grandpa Che’s wife remarked that now that he had a “real” grandson that my siblings and I would take a back seat to that child. My folks felt that she was spewing nonsense, but she was rather insistent on her view. My grandpa Che proved her wrong. His treatment of me and my siblings never changed. He still spoiled us and when asked about his grandchildren he would always say, “I have four and list our names rather than just saying one and naming his biological grandson. When he passed on a few years ago I mourned his death just as I would the death of a biological grandparent because to me he was my “real” grandfather. In fact I was closer to him than my biological paternal grandfather; my love for him knew no difference. I loved my grandpa Che dearly; the bond between us was incredible. When he had his first stroke I cried when I saw him in the hospital. Seeing my reaction he asked my parents not to bring me there anymore he couldn’t stand to see my tears it hurt him too much to see me cry and worrying about him. When he had his 2nd stroke and lost the ability to speak he would cry whenever I stood by his bedside and caressed his face. My love for him didn’t understand all the crap about blood lines and shared DNA. All my heart understood was that he was my “Viejo” and I missed him yanking on my pony tail and calling me “Maruca”, I wanted him home. When he died I cried for weeks, I mourned for him I still mourn and still miss him.


My biological maternal grandfather grandpa Raymond sees no difference between the boys and his own children. Mind you these kids are the off spring of his ex-wife and her second husband.He’s watched them grow up and has always been a part of their lives as well. They call him grandpa and their kids call him their great grandpa. Maybe it’s because they are the children of his ex wife is the reason he is able to love them so much. My grandparents had been best friends since they were 10 yrs old and got married as teenagers when they divorced they parted as friends and remained close friends until the day my grandmother died.


My dad’s family is something else they have never allowed my uncles to forget they are adopted. At family functions whenever someone who didn’t know the story behind their adoption and would remark how much Abbie resembles my dad ( he really does, that’s something my grandma and mom always remarked about even before my parents married) my paternal grandmother would always be quick to point out that Abbie and his brothers was adopted. When we’d be over there on Christmas, the tree was always filled with gifts for me and my siblings but never anything for my uncles. That act in itself spoke volumes to my mother and eventually she stopped bringing us over on Christmas day instead she would wait til the day after Christmas when the boys would spend their winter vacation with their biological dad and then head out for her in-laws.

Years ago I asked my parents once to compare their love for my uncles as opposed to the love they felt towards their biological children and I was amazed but not surprised by the answer. My parents told me that they wish they could say that they loved me more for example than they loved my uncle Chino but the fact was that they didn’t. In each of my uncles because they had raised them they were able to see bits and pieces of themselves in terms of personality traits, dislikes and likes. To them there was no difference between me their biological child and my uncles their adopted children. I gotta say I agree because within my own heart I feel there is no difference between adopted and the biological love is love is love.

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Posted by @ 12:50 PM
3 comment from: Blogger Aisha, Blogger Mia, Blogger Aisha,


Cleo in a tank...




My dog Cleo, a St. Bernard/Chow mix is by nature a very affectionate and maternal dog even though she’s never had puppies. Her maternal affections are currently being focused on my guinea pigs, Gizmo, Adiddas, and Pumas. Ever since they were born a few months ago she has not left their side. She sleeps by their enclosure and snaps to attention when she hears them squeaking sticking her nose in their cage to see what’s wrong. I think they recognize her because they make the cutest “bubbling” noises whenever she goes near them. They sniff at her and sometimes make a sound that reminds me of a cat purring.

Whenever I take them out I have to put them on the floor next to her and she will proceed to lick them clean. They cuddle with her and climb all over her as if she were an obstacle course. When they were younger they used to try to get milk from her too! When they start to wander off she gently hooks them with her paw and pulls them back towards her. This morning I decided to give the babies a bath and move them into a spare tank we have because it’s larger than their current enclosure. Cleo was watching me intently as I handled “her” babies. I placed the tank on the floor and deposited one of the freshly bathed guinea pigs and went into the kitchen to finish bathing the other two. When I turned around I saw that Cleo had climbed into the tank to be with the guinea pig.

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Posted by @ 10:14 AM
2 comment from: Blogger jen, Blogger Emory,


Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Eid Mubarak !


Photo I shot of Mosque on my way to Cairo




To all my friends and surrogate family, especially to Sandy out in Mecca completing her first Hajj and Said celebrating his first Edid al-Adha in New York: Eid Mubarak!

For those of you who have no clue as to what Eid al-Adha is about this is for you:

Eid al-Adha aka Feast of Sacrifice is the most important feast of the Muslim calendar. It concludes the Pilgrimmage to Mecca (Hajj). Eid al-Adha lasts for three days and commemorates Ibraham's (Abraham) willingness to obey God by sacrificing his son. Muslims believe the son to be Ishmael rather than Isaac as told in the Old Testament. Ishmael is considered the forefather of the Arabs. According to the Koran, God told Ibrahim in a dream to sacrifice his son Isma’il. Ibrahim and Isma’il set off to Mina for the sacrifice. As they went, the devil attempted to persuade Ibrahim to disobey God and not to sacrifice his beloved son. But Ibrahim stayed true to God, and drove the devil away. As Ibrahim prepared to sacrifice his son, God stopped him and gave him a sheep to sacrifice instead. The feast re-enacts Ibrahim's obedience by sacrificing a cow or a sheep. The family eats about a third of the meal and donates the rest to the poor.

Last year I was lucky enough to be in Egypt for Eid it was an experience I will never forget for a variety of reasons but most of all because of an event that I found too funny....this is from my diary last year...

" I walked the streets of Alexandria on a shopping expedition with my buddy Little Hassan aka Cookie.. the day after a Eid Al-Adha, the Muslim holiday commemorating Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son. In the streets I saw pools of blood of lambs slaughtered for the holiday. It was amazing. Cookie is a 19 year old kid, he’s into hip hop and all things American. I got him into reggaeton music while I was there.. and on my next to last day he pulls me to him and gives me the highest ghetto compliment, “You are my beech” I just stared at him and laughed so hard tears streamed down my face.. and I gave him a “pound”. I miss the country, I miss the people but (clicking heels 3 times) there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home...."

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Posted by @ 10:13 AM
1 comment from: Blogger Aisha,


Monday, January 09, 2006

A new year a new meme from Aisha...


NYC: South Street Seaport



Aisha has another MeMe and once again ‘tis a good one! Once again I’ve done the meme!


25 years ago: I wasn’t born, my parents despite growing up in the same neighborhood had not met yet. My dad was dating Annette his high school sweetheart, and my mom ‘s boyfriend was the very blonde, blue eyed, tall and handsome Peter… rumor has it he wasn’t as handsome as my blonde, green eyed pops taller yes, cuter no. Obviously they both had very good taste in women well at least one…lol I am sure glad that my mom and dad bumped into each other (literally) a year later.


20 years ago:
I was 3 yrs old and and had learned my first rock n roll song it was “Traveling Man” by Ricky Nelson and is still my all time favorite song today.

15 Years ago: I was 8 yrs old and in the 3rd grade. My favorite places in the whole word were The Museum of Natural History, The Cathedral of St. John The Divine and Central Park. I started writing a book about a vampire that lived in Central Park’s Belvedere Castle. My mom introduced me to Shakespeare and Opera , I was hooked.

10 Years ago: 13, a freshman in high school with plans of being a veternarian. I got my first job as a baby sitter after school for my infant cousin. I had the job until I became a college freshman. I was also a tomboy with a deep love for tennis, The NY Yankees, NY Rangers, and The Green Bay Packers. I joined the school tennis team and met my friend Reina.



5 years ago: I was 18 and a freshman in college. I started college a semester later than my friends because I had planned to leave for the army during the summer becauase I wanted to see the world. My plans were abruptly changed after my recruiting officer misplaced my test scores twice. My mom who’d been opposed to me enlisting said it was a sign, that I was not meant to go into the army. In less than a week I was enrolled in college and my tuition was paid for. Thanks mom! I had lost touch with my friend Reina that summer , she was supposed to go to school upstate. Imagine our surprise when we found ourselves to be sitting in the same class. We became best friends from there on. I was undecided as to what I wanted to be so I studied for an associates in liberal arts. It was there that I was praised by my professors for my writing and photography and was advised by them to become a writer or a photo journalist. I still didn’t know what I wanted to do only that I wanted to make a difference in this world and work with troubled kids.

3 years ago: I was 20 working 2 jobs one in retail and the other as a photographer. I was about to graduate and I finally decided that my heart lay in psychology. I wanted to work with kids in the correctional system and enrolled in John Jay College of Criminal Justice as a Forensic Pyschology Major minoring in Law. My best friend unsure of what she wanted to do followed me there.

1 year ago: I was heart broken and depressed after having ended a 5 yr relationship for my own good. It affected everything I did my school work, my personal life. I rarely laughed back then, I was 22. With parental support I quit both jobs and took advantage of the free time to visit Egypt something I had been wanting to do ever since I was a child. I came back rejuvinated as if a building had been lifted off my shoulders. I came back stronger, when my ex came hat in hand proposing marriage I said “no” and I was re-born. I assured him that I wasn’t turning him down out of anger I forgave him for every hurt. He couldn’t understand how I was able to do this when he wasn’t able to forgive himself. I told him I’d always care for him as a friend but that I was just not interested in revisiting the scene of the crime. I had grown up and more importantly had outgrown him.

This year: I hit 23 a couple of weeks ago and am about to receive my Bachelors and will immeadiately start working towards my Masters. I know what I want in life , I know some of what God’s plan is for me, what my purpose in this world is and am ready to meet the challenge. I am looking forward to it as a matter of fact.

Yesterday: I chilled with some very cool people ( my folks) caught a movie with them. Then spent the evening listening to music and talking with friends about the classes we plan on taking next semester. Angela and I talked about us having to take a year of law school before I get our Phd, Reina is not sure if she is going to go for her Masters. She’s stayed this long because of my nagging. I think I will leave it up to her I won’t pressure her into going for her Masters it has to come from her, she has to want it.

Today: Slept in...and plan on hooking up with my friend Said for dinner and a movie Reina is coming along with us. She’s like my purse I take her every where with me.


Tomorrow: I have no idea! I’m enjoying my vacation and the feeling of having passed all my classes and gotten off of probation . Life is beautiful.

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Posted by @ 9:20 PM
2 comment from: Blogger Aisha, Blogger Obese Girl,


A Mouse's Revenge...


Hands down this is the funniest story I’ve heard in awhile. I’m sorry for the home owner but DAMNNNNNN!! I can’t stop laughing. This is a true thug mouse, an eye for an eye type of rodent.

FORT SUMNER, N.M. (AP): A mouse got its revenge against a homeowner who tried to dispose of it in a pile of burning leaves. The blazing creature ran back to the man's house and set it on fire. Luciano Mares, 81, of Fort Sumner said he caught the mouse inside his house and wanted to get rid of it.

"I had some leaves burning outside, so I threw it in the fire, and the mouse was on fire and ran back at the house," Mares said from a motel room Saturday. Village Fire Chief Juan Chavez said the burning mouse ran to just beneath a window, and the flames spread up from there and throughout the house.

No was hurt inside, but the home and everything in it was destroyed. Unseasonably dry and windy conditions have charred more than 53,000 acres and destroyed 10 homes in southeastern New Mexico in recent weeks. "I've seen numerous house fires," village Fire Department Capt. Jim Lyssy said, "but nothing but nothing as unique as this one."

I can just picture the mouse yelling, " You want a piece of this? You want a piece of this? BONZAIIIIIII!!!" and running back into the house.


Story Link:Mouse Thrown Into Fire Sets Home Ablaze

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Posted by @ 8:59 PM
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Sunday, January 08, 2006

Walk The Line


What do you get when you combine a Joaquin Phoenix fan, a Johnny Cash fan and a person who doesn’t give a crap about either celebs but is just in the mood for a good flick? You get the perfect audience for the movie, WALK THE LINE. The movie was released back in November but I was holding off on seeing it until I saw it with my mom, the Cash fan. I was familiar with Cash’s music but not the story behind him. Whenever I go to see a movie I like to go in blind avoiding all reviews and the publicity that accompanies the movie. All I knew about this movie was that it was about the singer Johnny Cash.

I was surprised to learn that WALK THE LINE starring Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon was actually a love story. It's of the love that grew between country stars Johnny Cash and June Carter during the early years of Cash's career. The movie doesn’t attempt to show a full picture of Cash's long career, but instead focuses on the passions that drove his music and on the woman who gave him strength. I’m the Joaquin Phoenix fan so I expected a solid performance from him and was not disappointed. I was totally blown away. My dad the non-fan came out of the movie with an admiration for the actors and the musicians, his words were, “you know when the movie started I didn’t give a shit about the characters but after the first 10 minutes I was hooked. That guy was amazing he should win an Oscar.”

I was totally amazed with the fact that Phoenix and Witherspoon did all of their own singing. It was something that Johnny Cash insisted on and it paid off. It added to their performances. I cried within the first minutes of the movie and there were times during the flick that I got misty eyed. By the time the credits rolled I had a lump in my throat and had gotten teary eyed again. For the rest of the day I had the soundtrack to the movie stuck in my head.

Enjoy….


Walk The Line: Johnny Cash
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Jackson: Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon
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Folsom Prison Blues: Joaquin Phoenix

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My first official WTF moment of '06


Ah yeah boy, my first official “WTF” moment of 2006 courtesy of Pat Robertson. God’s “official” spokesman has done it again. Not content to rest on his religious thug’s laurels after a busy year of giving voice to God’s wrath and retribution for the citizens of Dover, Pennsylvania. Remember these were the people who were threatened with God developing “Deaf Ear Syndrome” towards them in retaliation for voting against the intelligent design theory. Oh yeah and who could forget the tornado in Kentucky for which Warren Beatty was directly responsible due to his interrupting a speech by “The Governator” Arnold Schwarzenegger at a campaign rally in San Diego.

Not content to wreck havoc here in the states God has now turned his vengeful eye on ailing Israeli Prime minister Sharon. According to Robertson who like gossip columnist Liz Smith is in the know when it comes to things like this. Ariel Sharon’s massive stroke was the lord’s way of punishing Sharon for surrounding the Gaza Strip to the Palestinians.It had nothing to do with Sharon’s unhealthy dietary habits or stressful life. Sharon was struck with a massive stroke in retaliation for his Gaza Strip decision.

Robertson talking crap on his show The 700 Club, (proving once again there is way too much garbage on television these days) said that God smote the prime minister of Israel. “Sharon was dividing God’s land and I would say ‘Woe unto any prime minister of Israel who takes a similar course.’ God says, ‘this land belongs to me. You’d better leave it alone.’” Is it just me or did Robertson aka God’s muscle man just threatened Israel’s next head honcho? And another thing is God laying claim to land now? What next? Will he lay claim to prime real estate as well, gambling casinos, and landmarks? What ever happened to “this land is your land, this land is my land etc, this land was made for you and me….” Is he letting us know he intends to become a squatter? Also where do they send the tax bills to for said land? Does God have his own accountant or does he do his own books?

According to Robertson God is mightily pissed off at Sharon these days, “God has enmity against those who divide my land. For any prime minister of Israel who decides he is going to carve it up and give it away, God says, ‘No this is mine,’” God’s henchman said. He went on to further illustrate his point about God’s insistence that Israel not be divided by pointing out Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin’s assassination. “it was a terrible thing that happened, but nevertheless he was dead,” added Robertson in between maniacal fits of laughter. Rabin hoping to achieve peace had sought to acquire it by giving land to the Palestinians and we all know what happened to his ass….ummm hmmm he was killed people! Deader than a door nail and now we all know who was behind it. ‘Twas God people, our mighty, mighty lord. No wonder I don’t go to church the entity is scaring me!

I guess this goes to show that the Jews really are the chosen people after all. I mean last time God got pissed off at Warren Beatty he let loose a deadly tornado into a majority Christian state. This time God went after the lone Jew who was pissing him off everyone else was spared...this time.

As usual everyone and their mama are shaking their heads at Robertson’s stupidity hell even Bush the younger was said to have shook his head and uttered ,”that Pat Robertson sure is a dumb one.” And that coming from the mental midget speaks volumes in itself.

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Thursday, January 05, 2006

Mia and Jackie's excellent adventure...


It was Midget and Heffa Day yesterday, Jackie and I spent quality time together, we had an excellent adventure…not only was it fun but it was educational too! We attended “Bodies: The Exhibition” at the South Street Seaport yesterday. For those not familiar with the show think in terms of atonomist/artist Gunther von Hagens aka “Dr. Frankenstein” for his work using human corpses. He currently has 3 “Body” shows touring the country. The show we went to yesterday was not one of his, but was basically the same thing except that that it wasn’t sold to the public under the guise of art instead t the exhibitors sell the exhibit as a "scared straight" option, as there are "lungs blackened by smoking and a brain damaged by a stroke." Kind of like a “fix yo’self before you wreck yo’self fool!” type of thing.

Jackie and I were there because aside from being morbidly curious and totally loving museums we figured since she’s studying Mortuary Science (yeah she wanna play with dead people) we figured this would be beneficial and educational for her. Never let it be said Mia and her friends don’t strive to educate themselves even while on winter break! There’s been some controversy surrounding this show as to whether the bodies were legally obtained. All the bodies are from China, where let’s face it the law runs fast and loose. It’s suspected that the 22 bodies on display may be those of executed prisoners.

The corpses were preserved through “plastination,” which replaces body fluids with liquid plastic. The plastic is hardened, leaving tissues intact. Bodies can then be displayed without formaldehyde or glass containers, so the public is able to within inches of exposed organs. I got to touch a brain which felt mushy and handle a liver which felt rubbery. I thought that I would be grossed out by the exhibit on some level but it seems that my years as a zoology major in high school kind of prepared me for the exhibit. While a zoology student I often dissected animals and their internal organs as well as grafted veins and preformed mock heart surgery. However for some the displays proved to be too much I saw women crying at the display of fetuses in various stages of development. One that particularly haunted me was the cadaver of a pregnant woman her womb splayed open to show the 24 week old fetus. My mother gave birth to me and my twin at 24 weeks and I got to see how small we actually were at that stage. It is one thing to hear all your life how small you were at 2lbs but it is another thing to see it. I was amazed and it deepened my gratitude and respect for the doctors who worked so hard to keep me alive.

We weren’t allowed to take photos of the display although Jackie and I managed to sneak a few shots here and there but they aren’t of the best quality. Photos 1-7 are from the NY Times I wanted you to see what we couldn’t photograph clearly. Photos 8-14 were the pictures we took on the down low shhhhhh…

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