Floating November 25, 2008

You guys have no idea how much I really needed this weekend.  Well, maybe some of you do.  It was so good to feel fabulous and fierce, dance all night, and hang out with my friends like a normal person.

Friday, I woke up, sent the kids off to school, then had some time to kill before I went to my hair appointment.  When in doubt, go shoe shopping.  I bought a pair of warm, comfy boots, then headed to Greenbelt.  For those of you in the urrea that don’t know, Cole Stevens is the indisputable TRUTH.  I’m kind of picky about who gets into my mane, and I’ve been testing out salons since I’ve gotten here.  The only one I really liked was a joint in Harlem, but I really don’t have the resources (time, money, patience) to go all the way to New York to get my dome did.  There are a lot of lovely sisters with beautiful naturals, so I figured it would only be a matter of time before I found “home.” Diane came to me by accident, but she was an absolute miracle worker.  Plus I felt quite pampered, and not at all rushed (as sometimes happens in salons that are bad on time management).  I’ll definitely be seeing her again.

From there, I went to undergo the tortuous eyebrow procedure.  Left unchecked, my eyebrows look like caterpillars.  The waxing is tough, but when homegirl pulls out the tweezers, it feels as though she is extracting my very soul through the follicle.  I get the kiddies, then we sojourn to the mall.  Mama needs a new pair of boots.  (Yes, I totally realize that I have already purchased a pair of boots.  Now I need sexy boots for my night out.)

I detour at DSW, and I send the kids on a mission:  “Find mom a pair of boots that will make her look cool.”  Finge pointed out a couple of pairs (a disturbing number of hooker boots, might I add); Ladybug selects the most delicious pair of burgundy suede boots I have ever seen in my life.  “THESE are the ones Mommy!”  And I look at the tag.  Cole Haan.  Marked down to $300.  When I told her I couldn’t get those, she then said, “Ugh, I have bad taste.”  After I and the salesman ensured her that was not the case, she took great pride in bragging to everyone about how she has fashion sense.  I eventually settle on a pair of gorgeous black ankle boots with gold buckles.  I’m done with shopping.

Saturday morning, I woke up bright and early, and pretty much ran all over the place.  Then, PARTY TIME!  I drank so much alcohol, I’m pretty sure it was criminal.  Once I recognized my state, I stopped looking at people.  I’m sort of an ugly dude magnet, and I didn’t want to give any the wrong signal by accident.  I got a chance to hang with good folks, danced to good music, and ate good food.  You really can’t beat that.

I spent the entirety of Sunday recuperating, which is the sign of a good time.  I’m still sort of tired, but I’m also still buzzing, because my 32nd year holds everything, ya know?  I’m excited to see what this year has in store for me, and what I’m going to go about doing to claim it.  A wise person told me that I should be taking myself seriously.  I think I’m gonna listen.

In fact, I know I will.

“Watch how you sniff son, I’m highly octane” November 25, 2008

So, yesterday, I was chopping it up with this cat about the weekend goings ons and what not.  He began to complain about his girl being with her family and coming home in the morning hours, then proceeded to get angry because I didn’t see the big deal.

I really don’t see the whole point of giving a grown person a curfew.  Of course, when I voiced that opinion, he tried to play me on some, “Well when you get a Mr. Right, then you’ll see that he’s not gonna tolerate that.”  Now, that could well be the reason that I am not single, but I highly doubt it.  I don’t want a dude that needs me in his face 24/7, and typically the type of dude that I think would be right for me would be like, “you really need to get out of the house.”  There’s nothing productive about me standing at the door with a rolling pin.  The same can be said for him putting the “rules up” on the refrigerator.  (“Melanie can not leave the house EVER AGAIN!”)  WACK SAUCE!  I’m a New Orleans girl to the core, so quite often, the party doesn’t start for me until 11:30.

Of people in my peer group, there is only one couple that has been together for over 20 years and are still happy with one another.  He has his night out with the boys, she has her night out with the girls, and neither of them are checking one another for what time they come in.  Since it’s not this big taboo thing (and since they actually like one another), it’s not something that they do every week – or every month for that matter.  (Author’s note:  If you have to escape your spouse/SO for 12 hours at a time every weekend, you really need to reexamine what’s going on in your relationship, because I sense a hot ass mess somewhere on the horizon.)

Micromanaging the lives of others means there’s a whole lot of your own life being un-lived.  If you’ve spent your life in this rut, I’ll provide a jump start.  Here’s “Fifteen Things To Worry About/Ponder/Accomplish When Your Significant Other is Out Late”:

1.  Why didn’t the Fat Boys get a reunion tour on and poppin’ before the Human Beat Box bit the big one?

2.  Have we broken Stoney Jackson away from the pony tails?  If so, is he still rocking the S-Curl juice?  We need to do something about this.

3.  Foot management.  A lot of you weren’t right this summer.  Take that time you would spend being angry and work it out on those calluses.

4.  Read something other than Zane and E. Jerome Dickey.  This is not literature people.  I know some of you are mad, but GET mad. Get so mad that you buy a book that doesn’t have someone sucking a lollipop on the front.

5.  Why are Popeye’s red beans and rice portions now cut in HALF?  Beans are seventy-nine cents a pound.  You’re taking this recession jazz a bit too far.

6.  Who made colored shirts with white collars the official uniform of the douchebag?  I have never seen anyone wear this style of shirt that was not a complete asshat.  Research this.  I bet you can find it on Wikipedia.

7.  Attempt to finally put to rest the argument about who the best Enterprise captain was.

8.  Reference project:  Does “The Naked Man” really have a 2:3 ratio of return.  If so, which pose is most effective?  (Refer to the 11/24/08 episode of “How I Met Your Mother”.  See, I’m really about helping folks out here.)

9.  Critically analyze a flick.  Stubbornly refuse to suspend your disbelief.  “There’s no way they could be naked outside this long and NO cops have passed by.”

10.  Decipher the lyrics to “Rock The Casbah”.  “Sha-meeee show lah leh?”  What?

11.  Watch CSI or Law & Order.  I believe it’s been federally mandated that one of those shows should be accessible at all times.

12.  Call your mother.  The nest is empty and she’s still full of advice.  It gives you something to do and makes her happy.  It’s win-win.  This is not recommended if she’s single and dating around.  Then you may find yourself in an awkward situation that will create gross imagery.

13.  Go old school and play those calculator games where you add up these random numbers and they spell words like “Shell Oil” and “Boobless”.

14.  Video games.  The older, the better.  Mario soothes the soul.

15.  Go your ass back to sleep. Chances are, you probably don’t get upset until around 2.  Go your ass to BED.  Nobody wants to talk to you.  If you think about it, you really don’t want to talk.  How many times have you grumbled, “I should be asleep right now.”  Then SLEEP!

Nobody wants to be re-parented.  If you’re so convinced that your spouse, etc. is disrespectful and in constant need of correction, then why are you with them?

As far as that snide comment about what Mr. Right would “tolerate” from me, I’m sorry, but my Mr. Right probably won’t menstruate.  Oh, and he would have his balls on the outside.  Thanks.

Mgmt.