Caught up...

I bit into the apple.

I always seem to find the wrong apple. I always seem to bite off more than I can chew.

In Warner Robins, the apple came in the form of a girl -- 19 and about 5-foot-8 with sun-kissed skin, hazel eyes, blonde highlights that flowed down her back -- I met on an assignment covering something wack.

She told me about Georgia Bob's. I had to check it out. Oddly enough -- and a month later, no less -- she was there when I went.

The food was bangin. I'll definitely be back (but they can keep that concoction they tried to pass as banana pudding).

We sat there and talked. It was weird, because I haven't had a real conversation with a girl/woman in years (unless she's Cunty). We talked about everything from the state of the economy to the excitement for Whitney Houston's new album (which my boy says stinks, but we'll see).

Sunday night, I got invited over for a movie. "There's nobody here, and I hate being in this big house all by myself," she insisted.

I went.

I was there for an hour before we got the movie in. Seems neither of us had seen The Hangover, and she had it on bootleg. We were sitting through the previews when I felt her breath on my neck.

"I hope you don't mind..." she said, trailing off between kisses on my neck.

I was getting seduced. And I was liking it.

Innocent turned to full on when I realized she had her hands on my waistband, sliding the zipper down my Polo jeans.

Just when she slipped her hand inside and was pulling the toy out the cereal box, in walks her mother, groggy and yawning, wiping snot from her eyes...

(to be continued...)

A sign of the times

I've had a hard time keeping my apartment clean lately. It's not the size (which I'm still trying to get used to) or the fact that I work long days at least twice a week, and still find time to fit in tennis, too.

My life is in disarray.

I've yet to adjust to the new climate and culture of my new habitat. I haven't really given myself a chance to sit still and say, "so, this is gonna be done here, and here, and here, and here.

The only thing in my life that's on a schedule is Charlie (and she's doing fine by her standards). So I'm taking Lazy Sunday to get my act together.

I need to eat better: I may have IBS, or be slowly becoming lactose intolerant. Either way, I'm cutting things out of the diet to determine the correct route for fixing things. The first sign that something was wrong? The fact that I'd lost 15 pounds in less than two weeks, then put it all back on overnight -- with the tight stomach and cramping and back aches that come with a sudden body change. I was tempted to do like my melanin-challenged counterparts and simply get a colonic. Aah, but that pricetag is a bit too much... lol

I need to respond to the demands at work: I was told specifically what I'd be covering when I got here.

Boy, has that drastically changed.

Now that I'm doing the job of two people, I need to do a few things to make sure all the stress isn't falling to me. My editor needs to know some things (such as that business portion of my beat) need to be reconstructed on my beat. I also need to figure out how to let him know politely that I'm paid for 40 hours, so I'm about to start putting in 40 hours. I don't make enough for the madness!

I need to be on that treadmill: I got on the other day after realizing I was walking around hungry, but my stomach was full. Three quarters of the way in, panic (and back pains) set in. I know it wasn't because I hadn't been on the treadmill in a month, but still...

I'm headed out to Kroger to get some things to get the week going. Then I'm back to the house, cleaning up and washing/ironing clothes for the week ahead.

Peace.

Papa Can You Hear Me...

I feel like I'm neglecting Charlie.

I leave early and come home late. I play tennis and work out to get down this weight. I stay on the ground to get to know the people here (and learn the secrets).

In between, I find time for Charlie.

We walk together when she's not being a butthead. We play with the toys until she bores of them (which is usually within 10 minutes). But she's still trying to go home with everybody. She even gets more excited to see strangers.

Today, I put her in her cage on the patio because I unleashed her and had her walk with me, but she ended up jumping on another dog smaller than she.

I had to go retrieve her when the floodgates opened. She was in the cage, struggling to stay dry in the small space that hadn't gotten rained on.

I hated myself some more.

I love my puppy. I really do. But everytime I feel I'm doing right by her, something happens to make me realize I may be neglecting her. My cunty friend has already said I should give her up if I must beat her. I beat her -- beat the hell out of her -- when she disobeys, like this morning.

What's a guy to do? What say you?

Save me...

Hello, old friend...

I've been busy as hell trying to adjust to life in humid Georgia to even think about getting on here and updating you.

My sincerest apologies.

In the meantime, there's so much going on in Little Town, Ga., that I have to share. Drum roll, please:

Frank, the drunk tennis guy -- I broke a racket playing tennis with the reformed alcoholic military vet who says he's getting back into the game because his son plays. I love playing tennis, and it's been good for all this unemployment weight. But here's the problem: Frank's legs don't work no good. He shuffles to smack a corner-line-grabbing volley only to miss the one on the other side. SO I find myself hitting shots directly to him, which isn't gonna do anything for my game.

Tiff, the make-up lady -- Anyone who knows me knows I'm a sucker for a pretty lady, but I think the one I've met here wears too much make-up for my liking. Sure, she's an attractive woman. She loves the puppy, we get along well AND she apparently knows how to bake. But, er, there's a problem if I have to worry about your face rubbing off on my clothes and furniture.

I'm at work, so I'm gonna stop this now. But there's more. Trust.

A change is comin

OK, so I haven't been here in a few weeks because I've been getting ready for some major changes.

First, I'm moving.

Again.

This time to Georgia.

I also have to get a new car, figure out what -- if anything -- I'm taking with me, find a new apartment, make new friends, get enough vacation to do the things already on my calendar, track new flight schedules from ATL, say goodbye to the people in Raleigh, find a barber, get someone else to pay me real money for a tennis blog (that I'd keep up with... lol).

Oh, and say happy birthday to Venus Williams.

Blame it on the...

The tennis game was exhausting.

Caprice, the 34-year-old who may become a regular hitting buddy, ran circles around me for nearly two hours, with a score of 6-1, 6-4. It didn't matter. After the first reply to my Craigslist ad, just getting out on the court was a blessing.

So I jumped in the car after the match, called my boy Greg back and remembered Mickey D's is offering any size drink for a dollar.

Great!

The plan was simple: Pull through, get sweet tea, keep it moving.

By the time I pulled on my street, it was gone. It. Was. That. Good. And I wanted more.

So I hatched another plan.

I kept driving past my house, through to the other end of the road, near a gas station. I pulled in a block later.

It was another McDonald's.

This time, I ordered a sandwich. When I got to the window, I asked the woman for a refill on my drink.

She stared back.

"I. Want. A. Refill." I said, like the Mexican woman couldn't speak English. I felt bad, but PC goes out the window when the sweet tea is callin!

"Let me ask my manager," she said. By now, Greg couldn't stop laughing at me.

The manager told me to come inside to get a refill. When I got inside, they looked dumbfounded.

Like I wasn't gonna come in for some free stuff? Psssh.

So I drove home, Greg still laughing at me, determined to drink slower the second time around...

Not the handout I was looking for.

Since I stopped playing tennis in the fall, I've been looking for someone to fill the void I knew I'd have when the tennis buddy and I parted ways. So I put out feelers.

I posted a note on Craigslist.org about looking for a tennis partner. The note was short, to the point and included just enough vague information so I could get someone to respond.

What I got was more than I bargained for.

"I've got a two-week load. Wanna take it?" the e-mail said.

When I scrolled down, there was a pic of a pasty white penis, erect and being held by a pasty white hand.

Seriously not the response I was hoping for...

I feel... beautiful?

The compliment came from the most unsuspecting place: A man, sitting on a shelf on the balcony outside a club in DC Saturday night, interrupted a conversation he was having with me, Fuzzy and my "cunty" friend.

"You have some of the most beautiful eyes."

He'd already gotten my attention by being overly attentive when I spoke. It was just, well, you know.

Weird.

I feel weird getting compliments from people, period. Moreso this time because it was from a guy. A guy sitting in the corner on the balcony at the club, getting high no less. But I took it, mostly because I've had a few less-than-stellar events recently that could've shaken my confidence more had I not been numbed by the whole unemployed thing.

(1) I was called a "fat fuck." This was after I'd mentioned going to the gym during a phone conversation. "How long have you been doing that?" "I've been going every other day." "I can't tell." Yeah, unemployment =depression, and I'd gained 20 pounds since the beginning of March (I've already dropped five of those since last week tho).

(2) This "face looks like HSB and the attitude isn't much better" dude I know from high school hit me up on Facebook. When I got around to approving his request for "friendship," I found out he was married with a fourth kid on the way. I'm still single.

(3) I had been talking to someone for a few weeks. The conversations always went well, and lasted longer than they should've. It all stopped suddenly after my trip to Jersey. Yeah, I feel like I dodged a bullet, but it was still weird to be told one thing, but shown another.

The conversation at the club was about... I can't even remember. I just remember the dude in the, sneaking one of my friends (nah, I won't say) a hit on his "cigarette," complimenting me, putting his number into my phone as we disbursed from the rooftop and smiling the whole way back to the hotel. While I wasn't interested (for more than one reason), it did more for me than I ever thought it would.

What say you? What makes you feel special? Who does it for you? Can you do it for yourself?

Keep pushing... or say die?

I've been a working journalist since three days after college graduation. I've wanted this since I was 9 years old.

But since I became unemployed, it's been hard to focus on the next step in the process. I told myself when I got my last job that I'd go from there into an editing gig. Little did I know it'd last about a year less than it should have. Now I need another job as a reporter.

Trouble is, there's about 10 of those open across the country right now.

I'm giving myself about three months to freelance and figure out if I could even see myself applying for something else. Hopefully unemployment will kick in and I won't have to worry about dipping into savings (though it's a good thing to have... lol).

There's a bunch of PR jobs and jobs playing spokesman for different agencies, but it'd feel too weird to not be the one writing about the happenings.

Friday, I spoke with a recruiter from one of my old jobs about the state of our industry and he told me I should think about becoming a professor. There's probably a class of beginning journalists who need me to teach them the basics, he said.

It made sense, especially since that's where I'd like to be one day.

Didn't know my goal for 40 would come at 27...


What say you? What happens when a dream looks to be deferred? Did you soon forget about it? Did you get back to it as soon as you could?

Back down memory lane...

SO I was going through my old blog reading some old posts and I came across a comment on this one that made me smile.

Promiscuous X said...

Lol I'm a 1st time reader. I'm dying of laughter in the car blogging to pass time. This post is def funny my nig. Its to many homeless people down south I'm riding 85 north (downtown Atlanta) an I see so many people holding signs. "God bless can u spare a dollar" a dam mess lmao.

Sun Oct 07, 02:07:00 PM 2007

Now then, I had no idea who in the hell this was, or that I'd still know him to this day. Strange how things happen...

The Puppy's case

I couldn't stop seeing the image:

Charlie, lying in the bottom of her cage, bleeding out from her incision, her floppy ears sagging, yelping at the top of her lungs for help.

I rush to her, mopping up the blood with a towel, crying as I watch the life slip out of puppy's body.

I'm losing her. I CAN'T BE LOSIN HER!

---

When I woke up, I ran as fast as I could to the front room, only to find Charlie on her pallet in the corner of the dining room. She was gnawing at a bone, with her squeak toy a few inches away.

I took her out for her morning walk, and got called into work on some breaking news.

It was hard for me to leave the baby home alone. Yesterday, she'd gotten her puppyrectomy (a spay for you lay people) and was a little under the weather. I had been watching her incision to make sure she wasn't playing with or scratching it.

On my lunch break, I came home to get Charlie up for her midday jog. I came in, put my keys on the table and went to the bathroom. I unlatched the cage as I walked past to the fridge, grabbing a bottled water.

Charlie didn't move.

When I got to the door, I smacked my leg, beckoning for Charlie to join me outside. She got up and ambled toward me, collapsing halfway there. The cage floor was full of blood...

Hypocrisy?

Radio stations across the country are turning away from playing Chris Brown as he and Rihanna go through this ugly court process over the fact that he smacked her up and threatened to kill her.

That's right, no more "Kiss, Kiss." Don't tell me "Yo." Not gonna be "With You." He's the only one who can "Run It!"

I like the music dude's been putting out, but even I've cringe and change the channel when Forever" comes on (and not just because I hated the song, either). It's out of courtesy for their trials and tribulations. When they're done in court, depending on how he handles all this, I may put him back in, unlike I did R. Kelly.

Too bad I seem to be the only person who put down the Pied Piper.

People spent the 90s making kids to R. Kelly's music. Now, he's having doin the "Bump 'N Grind" wit those kids.

What gives?

He wasn't found guilty, but the most grainy footage in the world showed what was clearly R. Kelly swapping spit (and other bodily functions) with a girl too young to have hair "down there."

But none of that mattered as long as he was putting out "Flirt," "Trapped in the Closet" and "Step in the Name of Love."

Yeah, that hurt to me. We as a people were basically tellin him that it was OK to do what he'd been accused of, and we'd still cop his shyt if it was hot enough. Meanwhile Brandy puts out the bravest (and best) CDs of her career and nobody hardly bats an eye.

What up wit that?

Now CB's being called to the carpet.

Too bad we couldn't have made an example out of R. Kelly. Maybe CB wouldn't be in the studio now putting together his third disc...

But what happened?

I didn't know Ryan was on Facebook until Ray told me.

It shouldn't really be a big thing that he's there and I didn't know it, but it speaks to more than some simple slight. I haven't heard from Ryan in exactly two years, for what reason I do not know.

---

It was CIAA weekend 2007, and I was still getting adjusted to being in North Carolina. I picked up the phone and told Lindsay I was overdue for a visit, and she'd agreed. The trip to Charlotte was on.

While I was getting ready Friday, something told me maybe this wasn't the right time for a trip.I thought about calling Lindsay the next morning to cancel.

Then, Ryan called.

"Hey man, I'm staying at home for awhile," he told me.
"I just moved to North Carolina. Wow," I replied.
"How's it been?
"Actually, I'm supposed to be down there this weekend."
"Great. We should get up while you're here."

With that, there was no way in hell I'd be missing out on this trip. I packed up my car the next morning and headed down.

Ryan and I hadn't really spoken since the previous year, when a trip to New York to visit him sort of brought out a side of me I didn't often see. Maybe I really was jealous of his friendships with others, but I should've never aired his (and our) dirty laundry on the blog.

We caught up at a bar downtown -- where I was hanging with my FAMU peeps, too -- stealing away to an almost secluded balcony where we were able to finally hash some things out face to face. I never really understood why he was as hurt as he was, and he hadn't gotten a chance to really hear my side, but we left that all behind us on that balcony. The drinks continued to flow, Ryan and I mingled with the FAMU peeps, and we parted with plans to meet up before I headed back.

He called me the next morning to say hey, then I said I'd likely come back in the immediate future. After that weekend, I got a call from him saying he'd been thinking about getting back to New York. I told him it was a decision he'd have to make, but I didn't see where he'd been so unsuccessful since leaving the Big Apple behind. But he missed his friends there, so the move was bound to happen.

I haven't heard from him since.

---

My Lenten ritual is forcing me not to find him on Facebook, forcing me to not look for him and ask him why our friendship just ended. Maybe it's the love affair with New York that has him too busy. Maybe the Big Apple brought back memories of me that he didn't want to indulge in.

Either way, I sort of miss the best friend I didn't have long enough in my life...

Make them stop sending me free food!

Pizza Hut and Papa John's and Golden Corral and Sonic.
These are a few of my favorite things.

And they've also been hit hard by the economic downturn. What other reason could there be for them sending me all these free food coupons?

This morning, I woke up to an offer from Pizza Hut: Get a .99 cent pizza on us, it said, just for purchasing one of equal or greater value.

My mind's tellin me nooooooooooooo!
But my stooooooomach, my stooooooomach's tellin me yesssssss!

I'm not going into detail about what it took for me to delete that e-mail. Let's just say I've got a new pair of shoes coming in the mail instead.

It seems like everywhere I turn, there's something going on to get me off track with this damn diet (yes, I'm admitting that it's a diet). Starting on the first day of Lent, I swore off junk food with the notion it'd be the jumpstart I needed to get back on the wagon and lose this additional 60 (now 70) pounds that've been nagging me.

I tried holding out in other areas of my life... no dice.

Then, I tried only awarding myself after I'd reached a certain level... uh uh.

Last chance, for romannnnnnnnnce!

I jumped on the scale after deleting the message, though I've been telling myself not to do that until the end of the week. I'm down 7 pounds since last Tuesday. Nothing wrong with that, especially considering I've only been to the gym three times.

But if I get something that's FREE free, it's on...

Something(s) to think about...

When will people realize ALL their news -- yeah, even that stuff you read on blogs -- came from a media outlet first? This week, I had two people tell me about stories they'd read about online that I'd reported on. The stories were later discussed on blogs or message boards or something, and ya boy got NO CREDIT!

Is it wrong that I put the puppy on top of the washer when she's bad?

If I have MySpace, Facebook and LinkedIn, why in the hell would I join something else?

What the hell is a Twitter, anyway?

I stayed up late every night this week talking on the phone (yeah, the conversations were THAT good) and watching a friggin ticker online so I could see if Venus was winning in Acapulco (which she is, btw).

I need a maid twice a week, for $50 total, to tidy up the place. I'm just not motivated.

Is there anyone else out there who feels there aren't enough hours in the day?

Thanks for letting me share.

daddy issues...

I'm going to come home to find my dog dead, on her right side on the floor by the balcony, part of a lamp cord sticking out of her mouth.

She. Eats. Everything.

So far, the casualties are still able to be counted: The cord on my desk lamp, the top to my tennis ball canister, the metal clips from my ace bandage, a piece of dried lasagna noodle, a pair of Kenneth Cole shoes, my New Balance running shoes and the last Sonic Blast ice cream shake I had from Sonic before I began my whole "no junk for Lent" ritual.

Now I know why some animals kill their children. They don't behave as soon as you want them to.

Charlie's come a long way since I picked her up on Nov. 21. She's tripled in size, and she showers me with random affection I knew I'd love her for.

But for every time she snuggles up next to me on the couch, there's a spot on my carpet to show her disobedience. And for every time she sits, gives me paw or claws my leg when she's excited to see me, there's a hole in the wall where she tried to dig to China through my laundry room.

What's a guy to do?

What say you? Do you put up with the ones you love simply because you love them, or do you attempt through repetition to make them do better?

Blogging...

I began my first blog nearly four years ago because I'd taken a gig as a copy editor, and it didn't look like I'd have the creative outlet I longed for.

Then I got a reporting job.

The blogging slowed until it came to a halt last spring.

It's not like life's not hectic anymore. I'm still living those "Mary J. Blige from the 90s" days. I'm just not sharing like I once was.

All that to say I'm taking a break from Facebook to devote more time to my beloved blog.

What say you? What's gotten in the way of the things you love doing? What's holding you back? Will you correct it?

The Obama effect

I celebrated cautiously the election of Barack Obama as our newest president. I'm a 27-year-old black man who's been called a nigger, told that he would be great as an athlete (like there were no other options), and nearly coaxed into leaving school early for a job that would've trapped me.

All by white people.

Do I blame them? No. I blame them only for forgetting that I come from a race of people put down for so long that many families no longer hold things like a college education and self-respect as "givens" in society.

Yeah, I'm actually disappointed in my race. I'm disappointed that my 36-year-old sister said she was voting for Obama, and didn't know anything about that for which the man stood. I'm disappointed that we still hold the size of our wheels, the length of our chains and the fatness of our wallets as symbols of esteem.

I'm disappointed that blacks have allowed others to tell them how far they could reach. It's evident with all these stories where white reporters are seeing a change in the momentum, prompting "Obama's gonna make me do better" stories.

We should've been doing better in the first place.

I watched on Jan. 20 with the rest of the world when Obama and John Roberts fumbled through the oath of office. But I watched it with hope -- hope that because most of us for some reason only look up to the images that have been pushed into our psyche through television watching. Maybe watching someone succeed on television -- who isn't named Huxtable -- will allow some of us to stop what we've been doing wrong and finally realize that we've always been on equal footing.

We're the ones who made the distinction that we weren't.

This -ish sucks!

OK, so just like last year -- when I finally say to myself it's time to start -- I get sick.

I've been home the last two days battling some strange fatigue. This time, it's worse: Puppy's sick, too. She's been sneezing and hacking and having "accidents" all up in her cage. I'm afraid to let her out of the cage for too long because I definitely have light-colored carpet. Ain't no cleaning gonna get out the stuff she's been letting loose... lol

Anyway, I made a bet with myself that I was going to lose 13 pounds by Feb. 8, so I'm gonna be a little behind when I finally feel fit to leave the house like normal people, but I think I'm up to the challenge.

Hell, if people can lose 30 in a week on the Biggest Loser...

Gettin back on it

I do NOT have an addiction, but telling me to stop worrying about my weight is like telling Michael Jackson to leave the kids alone.

So what if I lost 60 pounds last year. I'm not done.

I planned on starting today by posting everything I ate -- from breakfast to dinner, through that late night snack. But then I got asked out. And I love aggression!

So I'll be thinking about how many calories are in the mexican food, then about how much time I'll be spending in the gym this evening afterward.

Morning: Grilled cheese (hell, I'd started off on a bad note anyway).
Snack: Reduced-fat Cheez-Its
Lunch: Lasagna, small salad, cup of yogurt
Snack: Granola bar
Dinner: FUBAR

Tonight, I'll be running up a storm. I'll update after. I promise.

Is there a such thing as being "too available?"

SO a friend of mine decided to chime in on my love life -- more specifically why I'm continuing on the crash-and-burn route.

The conversation started like any other. Five minutes in, the tone changed.

"I have a problem with your whole routine of letting people get at you and then you showing them you're feelin it."

It made sense.

I'm a champion on being aggressive yet I've not been the aggressor in my last three relationships. Is it that I'm afraid of getting hurt? It's obviously not that, as I've been hurt anyway. I just think I like the fact that I was chosen. Somewhere in the chain, my "new car smell" faded.

My mom told me last year that I need to stop chasing the rainbow and become the pot of gold. I think I might switch that aroud -- since that's what's gotten me into this predicament anyway.

It's time to show these chicks why I am who I am, and for them to succumb to the flavor of the month. For January, it's tall drink of caramel flavored water. At least, that's what it looks like...

What say you? When do you decide to look for what you want instead of waiting for it to come to you?

Blogging's hard...

Especially when your Internet reliance is your job, and then they tell you to stop doing so much "outside" stuff.

How's this for random:

What up folks? I'm back and ready to go in 2009. The blog will be updated regularly, round 2 of the weight loss is on (still down 60 from 2008), and there's gonna be more about Charlie (you know how a new parent is... lol).

I'm scratching the list from the end of 2008, since some of it was stuff I had decided to let go.

I let go of 10 friends in 2008. They were mostly people I'd either distanced myself from, or simply drifted away from.

I need Jamie Foxx and Jennifer Hudson to stop singing. Anything. Period.

I wish Whitney Houston could still sing.

Good thing there's still artists like Tamia and Shanice.

When did Usher stop singing? His last album was like spoken word in long form.

I miss my best friend.

That's cool, since I'll see her next month.

Until next time.