Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

The true life stories of a NYC female.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

My mouth is not shy to a fork

My mouth is not shy to a fork don’t get me wrong it’s not that I run around like the Tasmanian Devil cartoon character devouring everything in my path, it’s just that I am not ashamed to eat. I have a healthy attitude about food I eat what I want keep the portions manageable and above all treat myself to something totally decadent when the mood strikes. Then of course I work out.

I’ve noticed that among chicks my age it’s like a badge of honor to make it through the day on ½ a tic tac and a bottle of water. I’ve known girls who will leave all you can eat for $5.99 buffet restaurants with hunger pains because they wanted to impress their date with how little they eat. WTF?! I’m thinking that this is a throwback behavior back to ancient times when the match makers of yore would point out that the bride was a bargain because she could work like a horse yet needed very little food to sustain her. I am not one of those girls that when on a date act as if 2 lettuce leaves, 1 tomato wedge, and a thin cucumber slice washed down with a glass of water will cause me to burst at the seams. Uh uh that’s not me at all I repeat my mouth is not shy to a fork.

My current BF is trying to shed some pounds in preparation for the police academy so he’s very careful with what he eats when we go out. We went to an upscale restaurant for dinner where he ordered a salad and my starving ass ordered a burger and fries. When our food arrived the waiter placed the salad in front of me and the burger in front of my BF. The waiter looked all lost when we told him he’d gotten our orders wrong and said, “ Wow a woman that actually eats real food. Can I have your autograph?”

Either our waiter was trying to tell me something on the down low or he’d seen the eat like a bird act too many times that evening.

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Posted by @ 8:55 AM
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Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Shared Moments

There are moments shared by friends that no one else except for them will ever understand.

This is the case with my mom and my aunt Nora. Sometime back in the 80’s they saw “ I’m Gonna Git You Sucka” a parody of blaxploitation flicks that were really popular when they were in grade school. Thanks to cable running the hell outta this movie back in the day Ma and Nora know the movie word for word. I don’t even pretend to know what it is about this movie that makes those two women lose it but let's put it this way my younger siblings and cousins have never seen this flick yet can act out Nora and Ma's favorite scenes (see end of post). Like I said before this is something they share so not everyone else gets it. Outsiders don’t understand why my mother is reduced to tears when Nora in her best Chris Rock imitation yells out “How much for one rib?” in the middle of Kennedy Fried Chicken or why Nora totally loses it when ma launches into the, “my bitch better have my money” speech whenever she sees the Avon Lady delivering products.

It had been years since they'd seen the movie so you can imagine how hyper the two of them got when ma found it playing on cable not too long ago. Nora was preparing dinner when ma called with the news. By the time Nora was able to pry the remote loose from her husband's hand the movie was in the middle of Nora's favorite scene. Ma and Nora were rolling as they watched together. Uncle Hassan was all lost. He had no clue as to why they found that scene so funny. I tried to explain the appeal of it for mom and Nora but he was clueless.

He finally understood when mom reminded him of “their” moment. Fifteen years ago when my uncle arrived first arrived in New York he spoke very little English. My then teen aged uncle Chino decided to teach Hassan slang. Imagine ‘hood talk with a thick Egyptian accent…it is my friends the funniest thing you’ll ever hear. Months went by and uncle Hassan proved to be an excellent student talking as if he came straight outta the 'hood. This proved to be too funny on my uncle Chino’s 18th birthday when Hassan whipped out his birthday gift to Chino. As he held out the bottle of expensive men’s cologne he announced at the top of his voice, “Shino these ease fur dee beaches” the party seemed to stop and all eyes focused on Hassan. They were all in shock no one had ever heard him talk so much English much less slang. No one knew how to react and then all of a sudden you hear my mom's familiar cackle. The woman laughed until she cried. When mom reminded Hassan about that moment and he immediately started laughing and turned to tell his brother and his mother about it…they didn’t find it funny at all as a matter of fact they stared at him as if he were the village idiot. He turned and looked at me and said, "They have no sense of humor." which of course sent me into fits of laugher see it’s all about shared moments. This one’s for ma and Nora…

“My bitch better have my money/Through rain, sleet, or snow/My whore better have my money/Not half, not some, but all my cash/'Cause if she don't,/I'm gonna put my foot dead in her ass.”

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Posted by @ 10:16 AM
4 comment from: Blogger The Don ®, Blogger DannieS72, Blogger Mia, Blogger DannieS72,

Friday, May 11, 2007

Don't Fear The Reaper

A lot of people think of New York as this strictly glass and concrete city but this isn’t true. All over the city hidden in plain view are parks and gardens. It’s typical once the warm weather arrives to see people spread out all over the grass taking in the sun.

This was the scenario the other day when it first hit 80 degrees here in the city. On my way to meet a friend I passed a businessman on his way into the park take-out lunch in hand. Instead of sitting on a bench he headed straight for a spot underneath a blossoming cherry tree. He had a lot of company that day the park was packed with people.

Hours later at the height of rush hour I was on my way back home and passed the same park. The businessman was still there under the tree. He was lying on his back one leg bent, his arms cushioning his head and appeared to be napping; at least it looked that way although it was hard to tell because of his dark sunglasses. Besides him were the remnants of his lunch and his shoes with his socks stuffed into them.

I found it kind of odd that he would still be there, I guess I was not the only one. As I waited for the bus across the street I saw as a couple of police officers approached the man. They said something to the man but got no response. The cops looked at each other and shook their heads. One of the officers then pulled out his night stick and attempted to startle the man but got no reaction from him. Then he began nudging the man with his night stick. It then became obvious that the man was dead. The officers called who ever it is that they call in these situations and stood watch over the man. By the time my bus arrived a small crowd had gathered.

Riding the bus home I thought about the man and about the family that must have been waiting for him at home unaware that he wouldn't be returning. I thought about how happy he must have felt to be in the park. The feel of the grass under his feet, the smell of the blooming flowers drifting around him every time the gentle breeze kicked up. I thought about him eating his lunch underneath the shade of a beautiful tree on a picture perfect sunny day. I thought about how despite being surrounded by all that beauty death had managed to find him.

I guess what my mother says is true, fearing death is pointless because when the reaper comes for you nothing will dissuade him from his job. Even a beautiful day when dying seems so wrong and unfair.

Song: Don't Fear The Reaper :: Blue Oyster Cult

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Posted by @ 10:08 AM
6 comment from: Blogger DannieS72, Blogger Cece, Blogger Mia, Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger J@ckp1ne, Blogger Jane,

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Feminine Protection

Some dude of course you know it just had to be a guy came up with “The Pink Stinger” a taser gun disguised as a tampon… WTF?! a tampon… a tampon people a tampon! Well a double wide tampon but since most guys are not familiar with what a tampon really looks like it can fool more than a few men.

The deadly tampon packs 50,000 volts of power and it shoots fluffy absorbent probes from up to 14 feet away. It also lets out a floral scent which I’m sure is to cover up the smell of embarrassment and urine that the criminal is sure to release after being knocked out with the taser.

There are so many ways I can go with this one especially since you know damn well it's a joke... but the one image that keeps popping up in my head is that of a drunk chick with her period passed out in the bathroom panties around her ankles “The Pink Stinger” in her hand with burn marks on her hoo ha.

Link: The Pink Stinger

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Posted by @ 9:57 AM
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Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Hurt Feelings

“I love you” the power wielded by those 3 little words is phenomenal. They can make your heart soar or make it sink like a cement pair of shoes. I was at the tail end of a phone convo with a friend yesterday when he said “I have something to tell you” and then he laid it on me, “Mia I love you” and quickly hung up on me. He gave me no time to react. For the first couple of seconds I just sat there dumbfounded staring at my phone. I’ve suspected he’s been crushing on me for awhile but love? Where the heck did that come from?

I've had a few instances of friends crushing on me in the past and I’ve learned if you leave it alone it will pass. Eventually the person figures out I’m not the best thing since free cable and moves on. When I was younger it was easier to dismiss someone’s declaration of love. I’d say, “thank you” and then explain to them in a really soft and fuzzy way that I wasn’t interested in them that way. Now that I am older I find it harder. I hate hurting people. Despite my lack of reciprocation the emotions they feel are real to them at that moment and it breaks my heart a little to tell them I don’t feel the same.

It was so much easier when I was a kid; someone would pass you a folded note during math class that read, “I like you. Do you like me?” and at the bottom there’d be a yes or no box you had to check. If you checked "No" they'd pass it on to the girl next to you and there were no hurt feelings.

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Posted by @ 10:13 AM
5 comment from: Blogger DannieS72, Anonymous Judy Abbott, Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger Mia, Blogger Mia,

Monday, May 07, 2007


Every time I have a major academic milestone in my life I get a tattoo to commemorate it. I’m up to five now and in a few days will be getting a small tattoo on my wrist to commemorate getting my BA. Just like my other tattoos the new one will be situated so that it can be covered with clothing when I am at work. In this case a wrist watch with a wide band should do the trick.

My paternal grandparents are very old fashioned they’ve never seen my tattoos. I got the first of my tattoos the day I graduated from high school and by that time my grandparents were already living in Florida. My grandpa is of the mind set that tattoos are for bikers, gang bangers and prison inmates. My grandfather by the way has a small tattoo on his arm with my grandmother’s name. I’ll leave it to you to guess which one of the three categories his bad ass self fell into once upon a time back in the ‘50’s.

During dinner last night my father informed me that my grandparents are coming down to New York this summer. In between bites of his salad he started laughing and reminded me that his parents don’t know about my tattoos. I told him that it was no biggie my t-shirt sleeves, and my hair will cover the tattoos up. He then reminded me that at one point during their visit there will be a family reunion at the beach and my tattoos will then be exposed. Then he started laughing like a maniac. My dad was a happy man.

I think that this is his payback for the sleepless nights I caused him as a teenager.

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Posted by @ 11:12 AM
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Friday, May 04, 2007

A Valuable Lesson

My uncle Chino had the day off when Frank his friend and former boss called. Frank was short a person and this was the biggest route he had. My uncle offered to help him out. With the exception of a few stores that had been added to the route since he left the job my uncle knew all of the clients and their standing orders. He introduced himself to the new clients and asked that they please double check their orders just in case he missed something. The day went smoothly all the orders had been filled perfectly that is until he hit the last of the new stores.

Chino introduced himself and placed the order in front of the counter. The owner looked at my uncle as if he were gum stuck on the bottom of his shoe. He didn’t bother to double check the order instead he quickly glanced at it, signed off on it and waved my uncle away. My uncle was halfway done stocking the order on the rack when the store owner noticed his order was short by a few pieces. Instead of telling my uncle, the man began talking loudly to the man next to him. He called my uncle a thief, accusing him of purposely shorting him on his order. He even accused my uncle of shtuping his own mother and questioned his paternity and legitimacy. He said all of this in Arabic never thinking my uncle understood him.

At first Chino wasn’t sure he heard right and allowed the man to go on. Finally when he had enough Chino approached the counter, “My man why are you calling me a thief?” The man tried to act as if he had no clue as to what my uncle was talking about. Chino then leaned over the counter grabbed him by the shirt and literally talked into his face and in his flawless Arabic said, “You think I don’t understand what you’re saying? Didn’t I tell you to double check your order and if it was missing anything to let me know and I’d get it out the truck for you? Calling me a thief and cursing at me was totally unnecessary."

All of a sudden the arrogant boisterous store owner was struck mute. My uncle let go of his shirt patted him on his bald head and told him in Arabic, “I’m going to the truck now and get the rest of your order. You have anything else you want to say?” The store owner was shocked. His mouth just hung open as if it were waiting to catch a fly and then just because he knew that the store owner knew a little Spanish Chino winked at him and added in Spanish, “I bet you learned a valuable lesson today didn’t you?”

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Posted by @ 9:31 AM
5 comment from: Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger DannieS72, Blogger Mia, Blogger Jane, Blogger Mia,

Thursday, May 03, 2007

Morning People

My uncle Chino is a morning person…I hate him. Every morning he literally wakes up at the crack of dawn happy as a kid hopped up on Pixie Stix and cherry Kool-Aid. He’s always been this way even as a kid. My mother his sister by the way is also a morning person which makes me suspect that this deliriously happy as miser with a pile of gold type of morning behavior is inherited.

This morning around 6:30 my uncle came into my room in search of a battery for his MP3 player. The sun was cascading into my room, a nice breeze carrying the faint scent of spring flowers through my window, my pillows were just right, my bed comfy and my burgundy sheets were clean and crisp in short I was in sleep nirvana. My beloved uncle knowing full well that I'm a light sleeper cheerfully yelled out, “Good morning Mia!” as soon as he saw me stir. I wanted to fling something at him.

“Mia …Mia why did the chicken cross the road?” he asked. I slowly opened one eye and tried to focus on him… “Why did the chicken cross the road?” he asked again. “To stab the bastard that woke her up.” I replied arching my eyebrow hoping he'd take the hint.

Don’t get me wrong I have nothing against morning or morning people. The world is a much better place for them. Just let me shower and have a cup of tea before you enter my room singing this song and dancing as if you were a contestant on American Idol.

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Posted by @ 9:41 AM
5 comment from: Blogger laila, Blogger Mia, Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger DannieS72, Blogger Ritardo,

Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Papillona Sky's Monthly Post.A.No.Secret Tag

A new month means it's time for Papillona Sky’s monthly Post. A. No. Secret. Tag.
Here’s the run down:
1. Post it on your blog or just Email it to Papillona Sky.

2. Link it to POST.A.NO.SECRET blog.

3. Revealing your identity is optional

Be careful not to share any information you wouldn't want the world to see.

Here’s my contribution to the tag for the month of May…

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Posted by @ 9:18 PM
3 comment from: Blogger Judy Abbott, Blogger DannieS72, Blogger Mia,

Tuesday, May 01, 2007

I'm So Special

Years ago when we first moved into our apartment complex we had a handyman by the name of Fermin. The first thing my mom noticed about Fermin was his strong resemblance to “Grandpa Munster” from the TV show The Munsters. From then on in my household the handyman was known as Grandpa Munster. Grandpa Munster retired after I finished high school and even though his visits to our complex were frequent as the years went by and his family moved away the visits were far and few until eventually they stopped. Then one day one of my neighbors told me that "Grandpa Munster" died.

Recently I boarded the bus on 3rd avenue. The bus was mega crowded wall- to- wall people from the front to the back. Every now and then a few people would get off allowing us in the back to move a little closer to the middle. I had finally reached the exit door and as I made my way down the steps my heart went straight to my butt. Not more than a few feet from me I saw a ghost. He was as white as a sheet of paper well okay maybe not that white but he was pale. He was ultra mega pale, it was as if pale had been on sale at Wal-Mart and he’d stocked up on it. His hair was jet black and slicked back the better to show off his prominent widow’s peak. His lips were the only thing on his face with any real color. They looked stained as if he had been eating pomegranates. My feet finally touched the sidewalk and I turned around take another look before the bus pulled away. I'm not going to lie even if it hadn't been my stop I still would've jumped off.

I fumbled in my pocket for my cell phone and called my mother. After a quick convo I found out that I had been misinformed. Grandpa Munster had not died he'd simply moved out of the city and like the swallows of capistrano returned to the city once a year to visit his family. Yeah man I feel special so special.

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Posted by @ 2:23 PM
8 comment from: Blogger DannieS72, Blogger Mia, Blogger Mia, Blogger Mica, Blogger Mica, Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger Judy Abbott, Blogger Mia,