Mia: Shaken Not Stirred

The true life stories of a NYC female.

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

I’ve Had Some of The Best times I’ll Never Remember With You

It was supposed to be a quiet evening at a friend’s house, a small group of stressed out college students winding down after exams bonding over a bottle of tequila. Guay was a couple of shots away from putting a lampshade on her head. Our host was feeling no pain, well at least not yet.

Guay and I were philosophizing about the true meaning of life and our purpose in this world when she excused herself to use the bathroom. Our host looked at me, “What the fuck was that all about?” she asked. “It’s our inner geek. Give us a few shots and we channel Socrates and Plato.”
I replied shrugging my shoulders. At that our host let loose a peal of laughter kicking her leg out just as the already wobbly Guay was mincing past her causing Guay to lose her balance. Holy monkey, this is going down bad. I thought to myself as I watched the mighty Guay topple. She landed hard on her knees with her open mouth on the girl’s bare knee. The girl let out a yelp and rubbed her knee. Our eyes quickly darted between Guay, our host, her knee and when Guay ran her finger along the front of her teeth we exploded in laughter. Guay had not only taken out a small chunk of the knee but she’d left teeth marks behind as well. Our host stared down at her knee in disbelief as a small trickle of blood made its way down towards her shin.

“She bit me, she fucking bit me!” our host gasped laughing as she ran off to take care of her injury. I bent over Guay and wagged my finger in her face,“Bad Guay, bad, bad Guay! It’s not nice to eat the host!" That was a big mistake on my part because it only made Guay laugh, making it more difficult to get her up off the floor. Guay is a big chick, a tall chick, I look like one of the 7 dwarfs standing next to her. Lifting a drunken Guay in the throes of hysterical laughter was not an easy task so a couple of the females rushed over to give me a hand. As we struggled to get Guay off the floor I whispered in her ear, “So is true what they say Guay… does it taste just like chicken?”

That was the remark that pretty much busted the camel’s back or in this case I should say the camel’s bladder. She laughed so hard she turned red… she laughed so hard she cried… she laughed so hard she peed. “Ladies be careful the floor is slippery I don’t want anyone busting their asses on the piss. I don’t think anyone wants to go home smelling of urine and tequila, it’s not the latest J-Lo fragrance you know.” I warned the females as I dropped Guay onto a folding chair while someone ran off to get her a change of clothes.

Guay draped her arms around my waist and hugged me “Mia I think I chipped my tooth on her knee.” She muttered. “It doesn’t surprise me your mouth hit her knee pretty hard.” I said as I rested my chin on the top of her head. “Hello you bit a piece of her off. Look at her over there a snoopy band-aid covering up her missing chunk of knee. That’s just so damn sad. I hope you’re happy now. You’ve ended her kneecap modeling career you damn cannibal.” Guay laughed again and this time managed to pee on one of my sneakers. “Yo, just how much urine does a human bladder hold?” I asked one of the girls. “I think this chick is part camel or something.” One of the girls laughed. “Mia shut up before she drowns you!” she said pointing to my feet as another little trickle landed on my brand new black leather Nike’s as Guay continued to laugh.” “Remind me to get you some Depends next time we drink.”

A short time later Guay emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of sweat pants provided by our host. Her sister called she was on her way to pick her up. As we waited for her ride outside Guay hugged me, “You don’t have to pee again do you?” I teased. She laughed,“No, Mia I am so embarrassed.” “Don’t be.",said the host. “That shit was mad funny.” “Besides,” I added, "You won’t even remember this in the morning." Guay nodded her head, “True that. Yo Mia I’ve had some of the best times I’ll never remember with you.”

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Monday, April 28, 2008

Welcome To My World Old Man

I walked into the kitchen to let my parents know my grandmother was on the phone talking to my siblings and found the parental units making out. “Jesus Christ, people cut that out! There’s food in here!” I yelled at them, the sight of them kissing making me temporarily forget about the message.

My mom pulled away from my dad rubbing his chest as she laughed. As I poured myself a glass of water my dad stared at me, a mischievous grin on his face oh man he’s getting ready to do something to gross me out…I can feel it in my bones. He pulled her back into his arms hugging her tightly against his chest and kissed her again, just before releasing her he dropped a kiss on her neck. “I love the way you smell. Mujer, me vuelves loco .” “Eww, pa that’s just wrong.” Mom smiled at me and shook her head as she went back to cleaning the counter.

“What? I can’t show my woman I love her?” “Dude, don’t get me wrong I think it’s great but you’re my parents for God’s sake. I don’t wanna see you guys playing tongue hockey. I’m going to need reconstructive eye surgery by the time I move out of here.” “Really, eye surgery?” “Yeah man.” “Well as long as you’re getting the surgery done anyway might as well make it count.” He laughed wiggling his eyebrows at me as he grabbed my mom by the shoulders and turned her around to face him rubbing his nose with hers just before he laid a toe curling kiss on her. When he released her she was blushing. “Ha, in your face little one!”

I pointed my finger at my dad as I stepped up to him getting on my tippy toes to look up into his green eyes “You know I never told you this because I wanted to spare you the trauma, but old man you leave me no choice.” “Tell me what?” I gave him an evil look complete with matching smirk, “Remember when grandma and grandpa were out here visiting during the summer?” “Yeah and?” “Mia!” I ignored the warning tone in mom’s voice and plowed on “Well…get ready for this one ….Me and Uncle Mike walked in on them in his kitchen while grandma was doing dishes. Dude, your 64 year old father was all pressed up all on your 60 year old mother and he was palming her ass with one hand and copping a feel off her boobs with the other!” I held up my hands for emphasis making grabbing motions. “I repeat, palming her ass and feeling up on her boobs!” My mom winced and shook her head before she burst out laughing. “Oh shit!” she said. My dad grimaced and visibly shuddered. “I’m going to be sick.” he muttered as he ran his hands over his face. I leaned against the counter crossing my arms over my chest, a big Cheshire cat grin on my face.

I could tell he was running the scenario through his head. He looked a little green around the gills. I suddenly remembered why I’d come into the kitchen in the first place, victory was mines. “Oh by the way pa, grandma is on the phone.” “Seriously?” “Yup” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at my mom. “Babe you talk to her. I-I- can’t, not right now.” My mom glared at both of us, “Oh for the love of God both of you are a trip. Mia, no more picking on your father for today.” She said as she walked past me pulling me out of the kitchen with her. I glanced over my shoulder at him, and yelled out, “Welcome to my word old man!”


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Posted by @ 12:05 AM
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Sunday, April 27, 2008


Darla tapped me to try this site and see what crime my blog was wanted for...

Look your honor, in my defense all I can say is that "Chino" wasn't really that big of a horse's ass. He had his good moments.

What's Your Blog Wanted For?

Darla this ones for you...Wanted Dead Or Alive

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Saturday, April 26, 2008

He Sure Has Great Taste In Women!

I am really tight with my maternal cousins,especially my cousin Tini. As kids Tini and I regularly tested the patience of Father Pepe Le Pew with our antics during Sunday school. It was truly a miracle of God (praise bejezus!) that we weren’t beaten with our rosary beads by the assorted nuns of the parish. "Two peas in a pod", the nuns used to say. Yet it never quite sounded like a compliment coming from them.

For the past several months my cousin has been telling me about this guy that she’s really serious about. She’s been dying for us to meet each other. The other day she e-mailed me a photo of her beloved. As the picture loaded up onto my screen I burst out laughing. Holy Monkey I know this guy!

I'm always saying my life is kind of like a sit-com and this just convinces me more. It turns out that I dated my cousin's new boyfriend a couple of years ago and dumped him. Thankfully I don't remember it being a bad break-up. So I’m sure there are no voodoo dolls made in my image playing the role of pin cushion in his night stand drawer.I have got to give the guy props on one thing he sure has consistent taste in women! If things don't work out with him and Tini we've got at least a dozen more female cousins in our age range we could hook him up with.

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Friday, April 25, 2008

Keep Your Panties On!

My mom’s bohemian day style of dressing although very tasteful tends to remind me of a hippie social worker or a gypsy. Her personal style is very carefree reflective of her personality; she prefers bright colors, light natural fabrics. She rarely wears pants preferring long flowing skirts down to her ankles with causal pull over shirts and white leather skippy’s. Her auburn curly hair is like PA-POW!, all over the place. She’s just not giving a crap about the latest trends in hair styles, the crazy curls work for her. She is always brushing a fall of loose ringlets out of her eyes, away from her face. My dad thinks it’s sexy as hell when she does that, we know this because he’s always saying it even though my siblings and I wish he'd stop. Mom never leaves the house without her John Lennonesque tinted shades, “Gotta protect the eyes ya know.”

Now you figure with all the detail that she pays to her dress she would know when her underwear is too big for her right?

While walking in the middle of a bustling street I noticed she had slowed down and had begun walking like a geisha girl, small mincing steps. “Ma, why are you walking like that?” I asked. She motioned for me to come closer to her and in a voice barely above a whisper but stifling a giggle, said, “My enagua is falling and taking my panties along for the ride.” “Your piragua (snow cone)?”“ Enagua (half-slip), not piragua!” “Why are you wearing an enagua?”"This skirt is so sheer I needed one." My mom had lost a lot of weight and even though we’d been telling her so she didn’t believe us. Now faced with her slip sliding undergarments she had no choice to believe.

“Oh god Mia my panties and enagua are around my knees right now. If I walk any faster they’re going to end up around my ankles.” Her eyes darted around, “Mia look behind me tell me if my butt is showing.” “Na ma I can’t see anything.” “Okay you walk behind me just in case.” We decided to walk to the restaurant in the middle of the block. The owners are friends of my parents so mom wouldn't have a problem getting into the bathroom. Every step she took was followed by a giggle both hers and mine. Just then my dad decided to call, I held the cell phone up to her ear because her hands were busy holding the bunched up skirt around her knees. “Hey babe I can’t talk right now my panties are falling!” “What?!” “Aye William I have no time to talk. Talk to Mia!” “Mia what the hell is that crazy woman talking about?” my dad asked. I quickly explained the situation to my horrified dad. The thought that his wife’s dimpled ass might be exposed in public seemed to upset him. “Take her to Elle’s! NOW!” he growled at me.

It took us ten minutes to reach Elle’s Restaurant when normally it should’ve taken us 3 minutes tops. As soon as we step into the busy restaurant the people behind the counter called out her name, she waved a greeting heading straight for the bathroom at break neck speed. Just as she had cleared the counter area I saw the look on her face and followed her eyes. The eagle had landed….I could see the lace from her enagua pooled around her skippy’s. I imagined her undies had made the trip too. Making sure no one was looking at she bent down placing her purse on the floor at her feet. She stepped out of her undergarments and quickly shoved them into her purse and ran into the bathroom.

When I walked into the bathroom she was inside a stall cracking up. “Ma, you okay?” “Oh yeah. I’ve got my panties back on and once I safety pin this enagua to my skirt all is good. Jesus these pins are a pain in the ass!” I offered to help her but she said she preferred to do it herself. Several minutes had gone by and she still wasn’t out. Knowing how hard it is for her to do certain things with her hands since her stroke I called out to her, “Ma?” “Keep your panties on nena I’m almost done!” “Woman,” I shouted back, “keeping MY panties on isn’t the problem, that seems to be YOUR problem!” My mother burst out laughing and in between rasped out," remind me to kick your ass when I’m done in here."

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Thursday, April 24, 2008

God Bless Her Little Antagonistic Soul

Psycho chick’s been a bit more antagonistic than usual, the lines been drawn in the sand and the school has requested that she leave the social work program voluntarily. Only her GPA is preventing them from out right giving her the boot and she is staying out of sheer tenacity. I admire that about her the fact that she is going to stick it out despite knowing her professors can’t stand her. Hell even the program director isn't too fond of her. Hopefully someone will take pity on her ass and get her an internship other wise her time here will be wasted because she won’t meet the internship requirement in order to get her degree. I’ve tried telling her she needs to tone her attitude down especially when it comes to disrespecting and threatening the professors. But does she listen to me? Nuh uh she doesn’t. Instead she seems to be taking great joy in being antagonistic with everyone around her except me. Case in point….

One of my fellow classmates is getting married this Friday to her long time live-in boyfriend. At the end of class tonight a bunch of us gathered around her to wish her well, making a big fuss about the nuptials. All of us except psycho chick “I don’t know why you are all making such a big fuss they’ve been living together for awhile and have a couple of kids….for God’s sake all they are doing is getting a piece of paper.”

If looks could kill psycho chick would have been struck dead on the spot. All the females in the group including the bride to be shot poison darts out of their eyes “patoosh” right at her. Me? I started to laugh and stood closer to her just in case they decided to kick her ass. Instead of taking the hint and shutting up which is what a sane rational person would have done she continued. “I’m saying why the hell even bother to get married they are already have kids and are living together. Shit. Makes no sense to get married!”

As the group of females moved towards her I put my hand on her back and started to guide her towards the door, “Alrighty then, time to get you back in your cage psycho chick. Time for us to be leaving now.” She turned and looked at me,"I’m just saying Mia. Damn!” I nodded my head, “Yeah come on it’s time to go.” The females continued to glare at her as we walked out the door I half expected for one of them to fling a chair at her they looked so heated. “We really have to do something about fixing that filter between your mouth and brain…and people think I’m bad ….sheesh.” I said and winked at her as we walked into the hallway. Her response was to laugh and throw her arm around my shoulder. Sometimes I think she gets off on pissing people off, God Bless her little antagonistic soul.

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Posted by @ 12:33 AM
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Wednesday, April 23, 2008

You want to watch homeless people strip Mia?

Guay was planning the up coming weekend’s activities bouncing ideas my way she was excited. This would be her boyfriend's introduction into our social circle and she wanted it to be off the hook.

--How about Webster Hall?

-I thought you didn’t like Webster Hall?

--Yeah well Pedro’s never been there.

I start thinking about Guay’s pocket; Webster Hall can get expensive and I know Guay will be covering her unemployed boyfriend's share of the tab.

-Guay the drinks in Webster Hall are mad expensive. There’s a really strict dress code down to the shoes. I've seen the way your man dresses, he doesn’t have Webster Hall gear.Does he?

-- Nope, so that's out. Okay let me think.

The hamster goes back onto the wheel in her brain and an idea emerges a few minutes later…

--Mia, how about a a strip club?


--Let’s go to a strip club this weekend

-No way Guay

--Why not?

-Your sister’s a prude.She won’t feel comfortable and to be honest it’s not my thing, it’s boring.

--I’ll handle my sister, come on!

-Guay why on earth would I want to throw money at a bunch of oily men? It’ll slide off of them anyway.

--No not men, let’s go see women strip!

-If I wanna see women strip I’ll throw on some music and look in the mirror.

--Ah man come on!

-Na. You go if you want to we can chill the weekend after.

--Please? It's no fun without you.

-Look dude if I’m going to be handing out money to strippers I’d rather hand it out to the homeless.

She paused for a minute and thinking about what I had just said.

--You want homeless people to strip for you?!


--You want to watch homeless people strip Mia?

Obviously she had misunderstood what I said,sometimes it happens.

-No, no, no… what I meant was…

--That’s what you said!

I couldn’t finish my sentence the look of utter confusion on her face was priceless. Instead I put my face in my hands and started laughing. Oh man why do I meet these people and why do they keep following me home?!

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Monday, April 21, 2008

Johnny, Take Care Of Them Kids

Given what’s been going on with the airlines lately my dad decided that we’d be busing it over to Virginia to pick up my car “The Holy Monkey Mobile”. No one takes an overnight bus trip on a Grey Hound without having some road stories to tell….

We’d been on the road for an hour or so when the Large Angry Morena (black woman) got up to go to the bathroom. As she walked past us her pack of cigarettes was slipping out from the back pocket of her jeans. “Miss,” my dad called out, “your cigarettes are going to fall out of your pocket.” She stiffened up glanced over her shoulder shooting a dirty look in our general direction, searching for the person she felt was obviously checking her ass out and hitting on her. Her attitude seemed to change when she got a good look at my dad and realized that it was the tall attractive middle-aged man that had spoken and not the short older gentleman sitting in front of us. I glared at her and from deep inside my head I felt “The Supremes” aka the voices in my head getting ready to pop shit. The Supremes for this not familiar with me are the nickname I have given my Conscious, Subconscious, and Superconscious…

”Oh hell no! Say word I’m going to have to smack a bitch on this bus!” The Supremes yelled out in unison." Oh lady please as if my dad would hit on you. “Settle down ladies.” I cautioned “this is an eight hour ride and you promised mom you’d behave." "Go put on some pants that fit and this time make sure they’re the size you actually are now and not the size you were back in grade school!", my subconscious snorted as sub and superconscious high fived each other.

The Large Angry Morena stared at my dad for several seconds from underneath her lashes, it was obvious she liked what she saw. Dad looked at her as if she were 3 kinds of stupid and shook his head, it was obvious he wasn't interested. When she continued to stare he leaned his head back and closed his eyes cursing under his breath. She then glanced over her opposite shoulder directly at the seats across from us at her posse. Her eyes were hooded and she curled her lip as she drawled, “Jawnny ! Take care of them key-idsssss.” The way she said tickled me and I burst out laughing. The Large Angry Morena then took a few steps forward glanced at my father again with a seductive smile on her face, and proceeded to walk down the aisle shaking her rather large ass as if were a bowl of jello.

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Sunday, April 20, 2008

The Holy Monkeymobile

I saw someone in need and offered him my shoulder to lean on. To me it wasn’t a big deal to him it was. We spoke on the phone recently and he told me he was going back home but he had something he wanted to give me as a way of thanking me for being there for him.

I told him it wasn’t necessary that it wasn’t as if he had inconvenienced me besides I’d gotten something out of it too I had gained him as a friend. At most I was expecting him to say he’s gotten me some earrings or another pendant. I am notorious for my love of silver jewelry. I was totally unprepared when he told me he was giving me his 2004 fully loaded Mazda RX-8 with only 14,000 miles on it which just happened to be decked out in my favorite colors. Little did he know that car was my dream car, “HOLY MONKEY!” I shouted. I couldn’t believe it. He said I deserved so much more and I was speechless.

Ladies and gentlemen I present to you The Holy Monkeymobile. I picked her up yesterday and I still can’t believe it.

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Friday, April 18, 2008

The Pope Is In Town

All I’m saying is that banging your hip really hard into the sharp corner of a dresser does things to a person. Certain allowances should be made and moms who werethisclose to becoming a nun should realize this.

As the throbbing white hot burning pain radiated throughout my hip I let out a few choice words…

-Holy Monkey that hurts!

--Are you okay nena?

-No.Dammit…carajo… God flipping dammit!


--Ayyyyy God dammit! Holy Monkey!


--Oh for the love of flipping Jesus and all the saints in heaven. Crap, crap, oh freaking crap!


--Ay Dios Mio! In the name of the flipping Father, the Son, and the god damn Holy Ghost ma I think I just saw Jesus Christ run by in his fruit of the looms! God Damn that sucker is fast!


-What ma?!

--Don’t take The Lord’s name in vain! The Pope is in town!

-What is the Pope going to do ma revoke my baptismal certificate, make me pay restitution for that stale assed communion wafer Father Pepe Le Pew fed me during my first holy communion? Is the Pope going to take back my rosary beads?!

You know for a 45 year old left handed stroke survivor my mom has pretty quick reflexes.
I never even saw the balled up tube socks leave her hand but I sure as hell felt them when they thudded against the side of my head.

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Wednesday, April 16, 2008

My Kingdom For an EpiPen

Jackie aka she who plays with dead things called. Jackie is a mortuary science major and because no one in her family was willing to give their lives for the good of her education she turned to me. She’s going to be working on death certificates next week and wanted to know if I’d be willing to die.

There was a time in my life when I’d been so ill that I had actually died and the only thing I came away with that time other than my life (duh) and the possibility of some brain damage (jury is still out on that one) was a killer sore throat and laryngitis from the breathing tube shoved down my throat and kept in place for a month. As an added incentive for meeting my maker Jackie promised that this time I’d actually get my own death certificate. The best thing about this proposed field trip with the Grim Reaper besides the fact that I didn’t actually have to go with him was that I’d get to choose how I died this time. Last time I had no choice in the matter but this time was different. Without any hesitation I gave Jackie the permission to go ahead and kill me. Hey sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and sacrifice yourself for the greater good people.

Not content just to drop dead I wanted a background story, so Jackie and I went to work on the death of Mia. I don’t like doing things half-assed if I’m going to kick the bucket I wanted it to be unique. After a few scenarios it was decided that I died while hanging with Jackie. I always knew that chick would be the death of me I had just always assumed it was going to involve some smoke and booze not anaphylactic shock which by the way kills less than 1,000 people per year in the U.S. I suggested shedding my mortal coil via some cross contamination of food at a restaurant involving shrimp but Jackie wanted to make sure I was good and dead.

We’d gone out to dinner at an Italian restaurant the story went and I’d ordered the stuffed artichokes. As I ate my dinner I began to feel ill. Shrimps had been added to the stuffing, I wish I had thought to ask the waiter what the damn artichoke was stuffed with before I ordered my dinner. I’m allergic to shrimps. I was having trouble breathing and with no epinephrine in sight I was in big trouble. “An EpiPen, my kingdom for an EpiPen!”, were the last words I was able to gasp out as Jackie tried to comfort me. An ambulance was called but it was delayed and by the time they got there I was gone. As my spirit formed hovered over Jackie I let fly a string of curses mad at myself for not having ordered the chicken parmesan instead.

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Monday, April 14, 2008

Tank for Prez!

A couple of friends and I were discussing the up coming presidential elections. After giving it much thought I decided that I want a ‘hood thug for president, a gangsta’ I’d want one just like my uncle Tank one with a heart and a sense of justice.

One whose physical presence inspires fear for self-preservation, but whose kind spirit, gentle smile inspires loyalty and respect. Tank is a man born out of his time centuries ago he would have been a Knight, a warrior. As a teen neighborhood people nicknamed him “Tank” a name that totally suits him; he is built like one, strong like one, and will mow your ass down like one.

This is the type of person I want as my president. One who shuns Hail to the Chief as his theme music preferring Warrior because that’s song describes him to a “T”. He eschews designer suits and fancy hair cuts even though he can afford it because he’s a man of the people; of all the people and not just a chosen few. He dresses like the working class people back in the ‘hood because he’s never forgotten his roots and doesn't want to, he's proud of them roots.

He’s a man of few words, soft spoken and book smart and street educated. No one would ever expect that underneath the bad boy exterior lays the soul of a poet, a sensitive man. He lives by his own code, one of honor. His word is his bond and he expects the same from everyone else. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind and stands by what he says. He doesn’t believe in half-truths because that’s not how he was raised. If he has something to say about you he will approach you and only you with it. No one needs to know your business or his.

Talking crap about my country, calling my president names shades of Hugo Chavez? Expect a visit from President Tank. He’ll roll up deep with his posse on the steps of your capital and call you out. His posse won’t interfere unless yours does; he handles his dirty work solo and expects you to do the same. He’ll look at you from head to toe with his narrow eyes giving you one of his dimpled smiles offering you the chance to explain yourself and apologize. If you can’t or refuse you will get catch the only beat down, one that will ensure that you will think twice before taking his name or the name of his country into your mouth again.

We owe you money? Expect that debt to be taken care of promptly President Tank hates owing money or favors to anyone. He likes to keep the books balanced. You owe us money? Well unless you’re a third world nation because he doesn’t take money from the poor, he’s going to expect to be paid back in full with the interest as promised. He doesn’t stress what he calls Honda Civic money however Hummer money is something else. Don’t make him have out there and get the money. It didn’t go down too well for the last guy that tried that crap.

If you’re in charge of looking out for his peeps he will expect you to think of them before you think of yourself, to line their pockets first before you line your own. Before he heads out into the world to help strangers he will look out for his own first, not to say he won’t look out for strangers he’ll just want to make sure his peeps are taken care of first. He knows what it is to struggle to put food on the table, afford health care and education and he doesn’t want them to struggle the way he had to.

You’ve got beef with us? He’ll sit down and talk it out with you person to person try to make things right. A few blunts will be passed around and by the end of the meeting peace will reign supreme. You a hard head and won’t listen to anything but force? He’s down for it but he will lead the way, he’ll get his hands dirty. He won’t be sending his people off to do something he wouldn’t do himself, side by side he’d fight with them. He’s man enough to admit when he’s made a mistake and take care of it. "There’s no shame in making a mistake" he says,"the shame is in not being able to admit to it and take the burden of your errors unto yourself."

Tank for prez I say!

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Saturday, April 12, 2008

Shirley Bassey

I walked into the room to find my mom watching a music video on her computer. She had this WTF?! Look on her face. The song was oddly familiar ….oh snap I know this song!

--Ma is she singing …

-Get The Party Started

--Holy Monkey, she is singing Pink’s song! Who is that?

-Shirley Bassey


-Shirley Bassey, the lady that sings Gold fingaaaaaaah !

--Uh okay lady lay off the booze

-This is off her new album can you believe she’s 71?

--She’s 71? Wow she looks fantastic, she’s beautiful.

-God Bless her little septuagenarian soul


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Posted by @ 10:35 PM
4 comment from: Anonymous Frum, Blogger Mia, Anonymous darla, Anonymous Anonymous,

Friday, April 11, 2008

The Fates & Their Sidekick Destiny

My goal when I started college had been to be a lawyer but The Fates and their sidekick Destiny had other plans for me. Hands firmly planted on my ass they continuously tried toshove guide me down a certain path despite my repeated attempts to bitch slap their hands away ignore them. Then one year the powers that be decided to send someone my way to press their case. He’d prove to be the one that ultimately set me on the path I’m currently on and it all started one summer night.

He was the product of dysfunctional parents who cared more about themselves than their children. The walking wounded was a term that always came to mind when I looked at him. Life had been especially cruel to him, abandoned by his father as a child; his mom had recently died and now his sister had run off with a man abandoning him as well. In truth the brother was a hard person to get along with. He kept people at a distance. To the outside world he was defiant, angry, cold, obnoxious, and mistrustful of everyone, especially women. He expected the worse from people and was rarely disappointed. My family and I knew a side of him no one else did. We had long ago figured out that his public persona was just an act, that in reality he was just a scared kid. I chose to define him by the rare moments when he allowed me to see who he really was rather than the role of arrogant bastard he played in public.

One day I awoke panicked from a nightmare; he’d been shot and died. Which given the way he was living his life at the time was a prophecy waiting to come true. As the day progressed a feeling of dread intensified in the pit of my stomach. Unable to shake off the nightmare I decided to head out to his place earlier than usual. Even though I loved her dearly I mentally cursed his sister out for running out on him during the entire bus ride to the South Bronx.

As soon as I entered the apartment I got a vibe that something wasn’t right but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I set my keys on the counter and pulled the Tupperware containers out of my back pack and put his dinner in the fridge. Glancing around I noticed a stack of dishes in the sink and the absence of his usual note for me on the table. Back then due to our conflicting schedules our main source of communication was a flurry of humorous notes left on the kitchen table and the occasional dinner at my house. The phone rang a few times as I cleaned the kitchen and the answering machine picked up; it was his girlfriend, she wanted to come over tomorrow and get laid. Then a mutual friend called inviting us to a Christian team’s softball game. Our balls are soft for Jesus we jokingly called them.

I left a note for him and got ready to leave. Still unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong I made a quick inspection of the apartment satisfied I attempted to leave but the front door wouldn’t open. I twisted and turned the door knob even jiggled the lock several times but still the door refused to budge. I noticed my sneaker laces were untied and as I bent down to tie them I caught a quick movement out of the corner of my eye and froze. Great I am trapped in this hot ass apartment with a mouse or a really big water bug Rodents I can handle water bugs however scare the crap out of me, go figure. Don’t laugh people Bronx water bugs have been known to carry weapons just so you know. I pulled at the door again, no luck. I leaned back on the wall and closed my eyes thinking about my next move. Okay Mia don’t panic ….. Give it a few minutes the lock is probably jammed. Call mom; have her send Tank and Brad over. They’ll get you out. If it’s a mouse stomp your feet. If it’s a water bug arm yourself with a meat cleaver and lock yourself in the bathroom.

My eyes still closed I was wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand when I suddenly felt a burst of cool air gently blowing over my face and a light caress on my cheek. It felt like gentle fingers… or the beating wings of a water bug. I felt a scream in my throat waiting to emerge. Don’t panic, do not fucking panic. Don’t scream or it’ll fly into your mouth. I opened my eyes slowly, there was nothing there. I was about to pull out my cell phone when it suddenly hit me that his bedroom door had been closed, which was unusual because the bedroom doors were always kept open to allow the air to circulate in the apartment. My chest tightened as I was hit by the over powering urge to check his room. As I ran towards his room I hoped the door was closed because one his play dates slept over and not because of what had just flashed through my mind.

I pushed the door open and ran in practically tripping over his pack back. The room was dark, the blinds were drawn, and the smell of mango-pina weed was over powering. He was alone sitting on his bed looking like crap, an empty sneaker box at his feet and a pillow on his lap. Besides him there was a half bottle of Hennessey, and an ashtray with the remains of several recently smoked blunts. He was not happy to see me. “What the hell are you doing here so early?!” he snapped as he pulled out one of his hands out from under the pillow. “Eww. Did I just walk in on a special guy moment?” Not waiting for an answer I asked, “What are you doing here anyway, shouldn’t you be at work?” He shrugged his shoulders,"Check out the dresser. I got an eviction notice. Since my sister bounced the landlord says I can’t stay in the apartment.” He’d been born in that apartment, his mom had died in that apartment, and it had been the only home he’d ever known. “Damn.”

I sat down next to him ignoring the pillow on his lap. We said nothing for a few minutes then I stood up in front of him and broke the silence. “I’m going to turn around and give you a minute to put whatever you got under that pillow away and then you and I are going to my house.” He started to protest and I interrupted him, “Please.” He looked angry and glared at me for several seconds, I glared back at him. “Go ahead give me dirty looks, we can do this all night and I can do it better my eyes are bigger.” He shook his head and motioned for me to turn around. My back to him I heard the heavy sound of whatever had been in his lap being put into the sneaker box and slid back under his bed. “Listen the front door is stuck. I couldn’t get out when I tried to leave.” “Most likely the heat is making the paint in the door jamb stick.” He replied. I nodded my head, “Sounds good to me. Oh and by the way I think there’s a water bug the size of your dome flying around the house.” He grabbed my hand pulling me out of the room behind him, “Pendeja.” “Pendeja my ass those things are nasty!” As he walked to the front door I grabbed my knapsack from the kitchen table and leaned against the wall expecting him to struggle with the door. The door opened easily for him. “What the hell!?” He grabbed my bag from my shoulder, “You’re weak son you have no upper body strength.” “Screw you puto that door was stuck. I must have loosened it for you.”

We spent the rest of the evening in silence watching horror movies. When I caught myself falling asleep on him around 1 am I took my pillow and headed a few feet away to the love seat. He looked so tired and worn out. “You’re staying out here with me tonight?” he asked. “Yup, you and I need to talk about some things.” “I don’t want to talk Mia.” He spat out angrily. I shrugged my shoulders at him and said, “Fine. Homo thug.” He gave me the finger. He turned off the television and the room became pitch black. After a few minutes I felt myself nodding off. “Yo wonder twin?” I chuckled at his use of my mom’s nickname for us. “What?” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t stress it count chinkula.” I replied using my nickname for him. “Respect your elders.” “Oh please you’re only a few days older than me.” Silence, complete and utter silence it was so quiet the humming of the air conditioner could be heard.

Finally he spoke,“Mia?” His tone was serious. “Hmm?” More silence followed by a sigh. “I was about to kill myself when you walked in. The gun was under the pillow.” “I know.” “Yeah I figured you did. ” We laid there in you guessed it more silence. I’d never realized until that moment how loud silence is. “How did you know to come for me?” “I had a feeling something was wrong. I guess it’s true what they say, for every soul there is a guardian watching over it." I replied. “Are you that guardian?” he asked. “No I’m just assisting in this operation.” “Smart ass.” We didn’t talk anymore instead I listened as he fell asleep. Ever since his mom had died he’d been plagued by nightmares, it was the main reason he hated sleeping alone. When I finally heard his soft snoring I allowed myself to give in to my exhaustion.

I'd been sleeping for awhile when he called me out of my dreams, “Mia?” “What?” “Can I go over there with you?” “You’re too tall for the love seat.”He must have had a nightmare. “Hold up I’ll come to you." I grabbed my pillow and stood over him as he scooted over on the sofa to make room for me. He took my pillow added it to his and rolled over onto his back. He then patted his chest above his heart; I turned on my side facing him and laid my head where he’d indicated and he wrapped his arms around me. After awhile he spoke, “You’re my best friend even though your boy friend hates me.” "Well we’re even then because your girl friend hates me.” “True that, but you beat her down. Gave her a black eye and shit.” He chuckled. “Oh please she hated me before the beat down. The behemoth shouldn’t have mouthed off to my mother on the phone. No one disrespects my mama.” “Word” “Thanks for beating up her brother for me.” “I wasn’t about to let him touch you.” “I could’ve handled him.” “No doubt ma, no shame in accepting help though.” “That’s what I’ve been telling your dumb ass all along. So why don’t you take your own advice? ” I sensed he was getting ready to shut down on me so I held back on the lecture I’d wanted to give him. It had taken me a year to get this far. This was going to take time.

He hugged me tighter and I could feel his protective wall crumbling. I patted his stomach,"That’ll do pig, that'll do.” He laughed at the Babe reference. “Ma do the singing mice for me." "No." "Come on I love when you do that shit." In a squeaky voice I sang, “If I had words to make a day for you… I’d sing you a morning golden and new… I would make this day last for all time… give you a night deep in moonshine!” he laughed and then asked “Would you really?” “In a heart beat pig.” He hugged me tighter, "Dude. I. Can't. Breathe." I managed to rasp out. He loosened his grip and tugged at my hair, “Man, who would have thought a girl as my best friend?” “Word son, what would the guys back on the block say?” He shoved me playfully, “Fuckin' smart ass. You just can’t help yourself can you?” “Nope.”

The following semester I switched my major to psychology and minor to counseling and when I entered my psych class for the first time I could've sworn I felt that The Fates and their sidekick Destiny give me an encouraging pat on my back.

If I Had Words

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Posted by @ 12:43 AM
1 comment from: Blogger Mia,

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Energy Vampire

The last group therapy session over several of the clients at the place I intern at stayed behind socializing. The topic of discussion was an article one of the clients had read on negative people and how emotionally and physically draining they can be on others. She had just finished reciting the tell tale signs of being a victim of the energy vampires when I added my two cents.

Mia: I know those feelings well.

Client: You been through that too Mia?

Mia: Oh yeah. I knew this girl once and every single time I spent time with her the air seemed to get sucked out of the room, time moved slower... the earth’s axis seemed to stop revolving and the thought of poking eyes myself in the eyes with a red hot poker actually seemed appealing. After a couple of hours with her I’d feel all out of it and in need of a serious nap.

Client: You see that’s what I’m talking about! She was an energy vampire!

Mia: Na she was just incredibly boring.

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Wednesday, April 09, 2008

God I Love Kids!

God I love kids much like me they seem to have no working filter between their brains and mouths.

I was riding the bus and the cutest little girl no older than 6 was twisting around her seat taking in everyone and everything around her. The teenaged boy sitting next to her caught her attention. Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied the boy… “Mommy is that a boy or a girl?” The boy turned and faced the little girl and smiled at her. “He’s a boy sweet heart.” Obviously the girl didn’t get out much because she acted as if had never seen a man with long hair before. I inwardly chuckled imagining what her reaction to my brother’s hair would be; his jet black hair is past his shoulder blades.

“But he has long hair like you mommy!” “Some boys have long hair too” the mother explained. “Uh, uh” the little girl responded in a sing song voice. She was too adorable and obviously a child after my own heart. From the look of her she’s going to grow up to question authority. I thought. She stared at the boy trying to draw her own conclusions; she wasn’t just going to take her mom’s word. She got up on her knees and tapped him on the shoulder. “Are you really a boy?” she asked. The teenager smiled at her and nodded. “But your hair is too long!” she replied. “I like my hair long.” He then he pointed at the faint moustache and goatee growing on his face. “See I have a moustache and a beard. So I’m a boy.”

The little girl leaned in and studied his peach fuzz, her eyes narrowed as if she remembered something. She turned to face the seat across from her and I already knew where she was headed with this one. It was going to go down bad. Either our fellow passenger was a transvestite with a 5 o’clock shadow or a natural born female with some serious facial hair problems, either way she was about to get shouted out by the little girl. “So that don’t mean nothing”, she said as she pointed at the bearded lady “SHE has a moustache and beard too!” A few people laughed. The mother quickly yanked her daughters hand down, told her to sit down, and whispered something in her ear. Even though the bearded lady had pretended not to hear the little girl her face said it all, she wanted to drop kick that kid into the next borough. Like I said God I love kids!

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Posted by @ 12:12 AM
1 comment from: Blogger Mia,

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Belle & Company

I was looking through my external hard drive and found some favorite photos of our pets and thought I’d share.

With the exception of the Maxie the dove all of the animals were came into our home via adoption, strays, and rescues. Maxie by the way flew into my room one Autumn day and decided to spend the winter with us. Every mid-morning she’d take off and return before sunset. Then one day towards the end of spring Maxie left and never returned. She didn't go far however she set up housekeeping in a nest above my window.

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Posted by @ 6:24 PM
3 comment from: Anonymous darla, Blogger Mia, Anonymous darla,

Friday, April 04, 2008

Ignorance is Bliss

I don’t even want to know what the hell is running through my friend’s minds when they text message me. Frankly it scares me, which is why I don’t ask. I just go with the flow. Guay was at work the other day and took the time to ask me this thought provoking question…

G:Hey what would u dress ur vigina in if you could?

Mia: My que?

G: vigina

I stared at my phone… WTF?! Is she serious? I knew what she was trying to spell but decided to mess with her.

Mia: What?

G: Virginia

Mia: What about Virginia?

G: What would u dress ur Virginia in if you could? Lol

Mia: Virginia’s a bit of a slut so I guess anything slutty would do. It’s on her.

I guess I should mention neither Guay nor I know anyone by the name of Virginia so if I’ve offended any Virginia’s reading this..ooops my bad.

G: LMAO NOOOOO what would u dress your vijina in if you could?

Note to self purchase a dictionary for Guay at Barnes & Noble, remember to use her employee discount for said purchase.

Mia: My what?

G: Your vagina, VAGINA

Mia: My vagina is very well thank you for asking. She sends you her best.

G: LMAO NO! I’m asking if you what would u dress ur vagina in if you could dress it in an outfit?

Mia: Dude,if it were big enough to dress in an outfit that would be scary.

I didn’t even want to now why Guay was inquiring about my vagina’s clothing preference. Sometimes especially where Guay is concerned ignorance is bliss.

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Posted by @ 12:11 AM
4 comment from: Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger Gin, Anonymous Steph, Blogger Mia,

Thursday, April 03, 2008

My cousin in : Barely Audible

I happen to love poetry and where as I can be moved by the words of Byron and Maya Angelou it’s the urban poet and the slam poet that’s inspiring the younger generation to seek out the written word, discover the classics, and best of all to write...

A few years ago my cousin Nyoka (that's her picture down there) played the lead role of “Trina” a 14 year old girl in the visualization of an urban poem by Chinaka Hodge titled “Barely Audible”. Please click on the picture to see the video.

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Posted by @ 2:00 PM
2 comment from: Blogger Gin, Blogger Mia,

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Goth Chick

There’s a Goth chick at school that always looks as if she is in need of a pint or two of blood and is one Prozac prescription away from extracting said blood in the most violent way possible from those who dare look upon her.

People are visibly uncomfortable around her,intimidated by her brusque attitude; she's aware that behind her back she's called “psycho chick”. I don’t scare so easily and can be quite intimidating myself, I call her "psycho chick" to her face and tell her to have fun with the title,"it only has as much power as you choose to give it." Naturally we’ve bonded.

A couple of weeks ago we teamed up to work on a class project. I picked up on the fact that my professor seemed uneasy about me working with Goth Chick, as if she were afraid for me. She kept hovering over us asking, “Mia are you okay?”,casting nervous glances at GC as if she were going take me over to the dark side. Eventually GC caught on,“I think she’s scared I’m going to hurt you or something.” I looked up and found the professor looking at us slightly frowning. “Na she’s just not too sure we've got the hang of this.” GC shook her head and went back to work,ignoring the professor’s stares. “I scare the shit out of people. People don’t like me.” she confided as if I hadn't picked up on this already.

I studied her for a second,“You don’t scare me and I like you.” she smiled at me and replied, “Yeah but you’re crazy. Crazy is attracted to crazy.” I pretended to be offended and arched an eyebrow at her, “Hey,hey,hey there my friend I am NOT crazy. I just know crazy and hang out with crazy." And then I pointed at her and winked,“I know a lot of people like you.” at that she laughed rather loudly. We worked in silence for a few minutes well she did anyway. I was typing our project notes into my laptop reciting them in a sing song voice wiggling my fingers over the keyboard as I paused between each paragraph. I looked up from my screen to find her looking at me intently, there was genuine warmth in her voice when she exclaimed, “You are so cute!” “Hush yo’ mouth psycho chick you’ve got a reputation to preserve! Quick rip a wing off of a butterfly or something before people think you're going soft.” I shot back.

Last night after class she stopped me, “Hey Mia are you’re going to be taking night classes at the upstate campus next semester?” “Yup” I replied. She seemed to hesitate for a second,“Want to car pool with me? We could split the cost of the gas.” I sensed she was offering me more than just a ride she was inviting me into her world,and I knew it was something she didn’t do often. “Okay.” I replied, she draped her arm around my shoulder as we walked towards the exit ignoring the looks people were giving her, “Come on I’ll give you a ride home I’m headed your way.”

"Thanks...yo psycho chick if you make one move towards my neck I'm staking you right through your heart with this here highlighter marker." I held the marker up and as we stepped outside the night air echoed with her laughter.

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Posted by @ 11:39 PM
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