Reunion Recap

Happy belated Thanksgiving to all of you who haven't been by in the last few days. Missed you all.... hope you had a fabulously fat day eating all of that heavy, cartery clogging food at Big Mama's house.

Ah yes... the reunion. The event that all of you (or at least one or two of you) have been waiting for. Class of 1987. Yeah, 1987. Here we go...



This is a shot of me just before we left for the big event. Can't you see the anticipation and eagerness in my eyes? At any rate, as you can see, Tina worked a much-needed miracle for me in the hair department, and although I severely overestimated the length of the dress (as usual), it worked out as well. So here we are: two well-dressed Black people off to see what the night has in store.



When we get there, we stop by our respective restrooms and run into a group of four very drunk, very white women. Four very drunk, white women who apparently are (or at least were) QUITE enamored with the Bishop. "OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! BISHOP!!!!!!! (well, they used his real name) Look at youuuuuuuuuu!" As I stand there with that half smile, half vacant look on face, I'm thinking to myself, "Yes... look at him." One of the women throws herself into my arms and hugs me. Did I mention that I didn't go to school there, let alone graduate in 1987, and that I most definitely do NOT know this woman? Well she (and ALL of her friends) were TOASTED compliments of the open bar that I had yet to benefit from, and it was only 8:00 (party started at 7:00). After we- well, HE- makes suitable small talk with the ladies, we head for the check-in table to pick up his nametag and souvenir book. Allow me to give you.... BISHOP: CLASS OF 1987.



Now... hopefully you too have recovered from your stomachache and the resulting bruise on your forehead from where you fell down on the floor laughing. What can I say? Twenty years was a long time ago. Anyway... we walk in and immediately get assaulted by another contingent of very drunk, VERY Caucasian women who similarly launch themselves into his arms with screams of "OMIGOD!!!!! Look at you!!!!" I thought if I had to smile and say, "Very good, thank you. Just fine, thanks! Great, and you?" ONE more time, I would hurl. And then there was the woman who- probably without meaning to and definitely without realizing it- made my night. After fawning over Bishop for a few seconds, she said, "Oh is this your wife?" I smiled demurely and said "no," but offered my hand and said, "Hi, I'm Monique." She said, "Oh look at you-you are SOOOOO fabulous!" Well, you know...

After exacting a promise from him that he would, under no circumstances, leave me alone at the table during the course of the night (which he immediately reneged on), I made my way to the bar to begin my drinking. I calculated that I was going to need AT LEAST four to five drinks or a very healthy dose of Beyonce records to get me throught the night without retreating to the corner to call La and collapse. I drank, we ate, he talked, I drank, he hugged, I drank, he smiled, I drank, he joked, I drank, he reminisced, I DRANK. Throughout all of this, the soundtrack for this little experience was "Pour Some Suga On Me" compliments of Def Leppard. Yes, DEF LEPPARD. And every song that the damn DJ played was prefaced by, "This next song goes out to the class of 1987 (as if there were any other classes there). From your senior year... "Let's Wait Awhile" by Janet Jackson!!!!" Wow....

Then, after a 90-minute Caucasian-only set, came the line dance set. Your favorite (and mine) "Electric Slide," immediately followed by, "The Cha Cha Slide," and then the "Cupid Shuffle." "To the left, to the left, to the left, to the LEFFFFFFT, to the right, to the..." well, you get the point. Then we got "Step in the Name of Love" and "Wifey." The highlight of this set (second only to the drunk whiteys trying to follow the directions of R. Kelly) was some guy's wife (who looked 20 years older than him) screaming at her husband (as he tried to pull her onto the dance floor), "I can't dance to this! I'm WHITE!!!" Oh my, she was SOOOO serious. SO serious.

This brings us to the New Jersey club music set. CeCe Peniston, Fantasia's "Hood Boy" (who knew there was a club mix?), "Follow Me," and "Don't Make Me Over." This was the magnet that finally pulled ya boy out onto the dance floor. So as I sat in my chair with my eyes half closed, wishing fervently that I could disappear and nobody would notice, Bishop was out on the dance floor with the fatties and the whiteys, TEARING THE CLUB UP. Wow. Then came "Now That We Found Love" by Heavy D. Finally- a song that I can dance to. So I took off my sandals and hit the floor to jiggle the last of that Malibu into whatever cells it was unfamiliar with in my body. But the piece de resistance... the last song for the reunion of the Class of 1987. It went a little something like this



No, really... SERIOUSLY. So after we supersoaked that ho for a few (at which point Bishop was like, "I am NOT dancin to this shit!"), we left.

The end. Oh yeah, one more photo...



Now, the end.

Strange

Okay, so why am I just now getting this in the mail? I was licensed as of March 2007, and I am just NOW getting my official license from the wonderful state of New Jersey. Fabulous. Ah well, all hail the chief.

I'm Sleepy

Loo loo loo loosahhhhhh day... **hmm mm um hmm** I am having a loser day! Here I sit at my wonderful place of employment where I have been sitting since 8:00 this morning and where I will continue to sit until 10:00 tonight. Funfantastic. And what I really love (no, REALLY) is that every time I work, there's someone new working. And by "new," I mean their very first day on the job. Being new is all good... we all had a first day. But on your first day, do you say that you're not answering the phones. Err?? But the phone is ringing, though. A lot. And you won't answer it? I'm so puzzled as to why not. **sigh** Never mind, I've got it. Why not?

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and we're pleased about that. Every day I'm thankful for something, so yesterday was just another day for me. But for some reason, I had this crazy desire to have some "traditional" holiday food. Went to this restaurant called Deltas and had some turkey, dressing, rice and gravy ("rice and graveeee babeeeee?" For all you HU heads), cabbage, and fried okra. No dessert. Ice water and a few alcoholic beverages of the brightly colored variety. Yum. By 1:00 a.m. I was laying on the floor of the bathroom, hugging my silk-covered pillow to my chest, as I envisioned in vain a life without vomit and copious sweating. **sigh again** That's what I get for jumping on that peer pressure bandwagon and not going for my normal Chinese takeout. CURSES!!!!

So... what else? Nothing, really. Going to a high school reunion tomorrow, so I have an early morning hair appointment. In order to fulfill my mental picture of being the flyest bitch in the place (which really isn't hard considering it's the class of '87 in a small city in NJ), I'm on a mission. Fresh hairstyle (some sort of curl pattern for my new pseudo-bob), a repair on this horribly deformed thumbnail, a quick polish change for the toes, and a nice leisurely makeup application compliments of MAC Cosmetics and the gift card they sent me for being such a loyal customer (shut up, those of you who have seen my makeup train case). Ahhhhhh... I love when I have appearances! And yes, I am aware that I'm not a celebrity and therefore don't really have "appearances," per se, but whatever... my dress is bad, so that's half the battle. Photos if you're good :)

Turkey Tidings

Can I just make a quick PSA? I want to thank all of the people who called, emailed, puffed out a smoke signal, etc. to wish me a Hapy Thanksgiving. Now if we don't normally communicate via those media, then you can pardon my sarcasm. But if we do and you didn't, well then.... bite me.

And now Wendy Williams has hold of it... Lord, poor Shirley Strawberry. They are putting what happened on the radio this morning on BLAST!!! Well... if them two were gettin it poppin before, they SURELY won't be anymore! Thanks, Uncle Steve!!

SHMS

PLEASE tell me that I'm not the only person who heard The Steve Harvey Morning Show today. Please. PLEASE. That phone call from Tommy to Shirley was BEYOND priceless. Sooooo beyond. I can't promise that she'll ever forgive him for putting their relationship on blast, but DAMN that thing was too funny. "Honey are you still coming down for dinner on Thursday? Baby what are you doing? Sweetie..." whew..... funny.

Okay. Is it just me, or is this the absolute WORST AMA's ever? I just got home from work and I'm watching the telecast on tivo. So they opened with Fergie. Now I do love her, but live singing? Not so much. Too Fergalicious. And all that will.i.am? He reminds me of a bootleg Wyclef. Fast forward through all of this lily whiteness. Nicole Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious was super wack too. Bah.

WAIT.



Stop.




Hold the motherfucking phone.



Why does Jimmy Kimmel have Jordyn Sparks and Kelly Pickler up there doin the damn Soulja Boy? Oh HELL no. White coonery. Great.

But when that boy from the Jonas Brothers straight BUSTED HIS ASS, it stole the show for me!!!! Priceless.
High School Musical over Dreamgirls? Uhh.... okay. Now what is that on Rihanna's head? And why is she singing "Umbrella" to a full orchestra? Ne-yo is saving her ass. Pitiful.

WHAT THE?????? Is this for real? To the left to the left? Is that a honky tonk cracker singing a Beyonce song? Seriously? No, seriously? **And as a side note, Jay must be KILLIN that because those jeans are SNUGalicious** Sugarland sings the hits. My God. It's the Apocalypse.

Did he just introduce Solange as an "artist who sings, writes, and produces?" Was he trying to play her? And where did she get that weird dress and hair? No way is this American Idol castoff Daughtry better than Norah Jones and John Mayer. No way.

Celine Dion is still writing songs? Cool. Ride that gravy train, bitch! LENNY KRAVITZ!!!! Just when I was getting ready to hit fast forward. Love him! Yummo. Is that Biggie? Fat Albert? Keenan? Kel? Maybe if you took off those damn schmedium ass glasses, you could read the teleprompter, you fake ass reggae singer.

Lawd was that MC Hammer and Karyn White on the flashback? Hells yeah. Wow Jenny Garth looks FAB. Ooh its my jailbait boyfriend Chris Brown! Love him so much... what a cutie pie! I'm a country boy from Tappahanock, VA... ah well. Enough of that. I think I hearted his VMA performance better. Okay, but that ending was fiyah.

Oh look at Alicia pretending to be interested in Usher singing to her. How very hetero of her. Why does Ashley Tisdale look like Ashlee Simpson's twin sister? Wow... freaky. I. Am. So. Sick. Of. This. Song. Sooooooooooo sick. Sick. Is this the reggae remix? For real? Okay. Murder She Wrote with a dance break? So much. Beanie Man. Well, she does look fantastic.

Has Usher really "conquered the fragrance world?" Boo-yah. Tongue tied much, Ush? Oh my beloved B. So beautiful. Good job. And those diamond Lorraine Schwarz bangles? Get it B.

**Is Usher illiterate?**

And why is Solange mean muggin her sister? Hate hate hate hate. Ooh I love this new Mary song. Her shae is amazing in that getup. I'm so jealous of anyone who can wear thigh boots. Did she jut bring back the WOP?? Love it. One time for the 80's. Nice wig too. Remember when my hair was cut like that. Very flattering for her. I love that she's just out there with her mic gettin her groove on. Old school style.

Okay I need to sleep. No more recap. I'm sure it doesn't get any better anyway.

I Feel the HEAT!!!!

"Where's JayZ and his bitch at?" Umm.... could you dial down the hate JUST a tad bit, please? I just got to the game, and I really can't get with your bitterness this early in the first quarter! Some broken down busted up broads were sitting behind us talking loud... you know the kind of loud where they want people to hear them and wonder how they know who they know. All I know is that courtside hate is unacceptable. We're a stone's throw away from Kimora and Djamon, James Gandolfini, and some random ass stankin rich white people, and you got hate in your heart? Whatever...

For the record, I look fabulous and very faux wealthy. Tight jeans with knee-high black sude and patent leather boots, a black asymmetric collared sweater with silver snaps, and some big silver hoops. And my oversized silver Dior shades to top off my fresh blowout compliments of the Dominicans. **sigh** I know you're weary of it, but fuck it: shawty is a TEE-YEN!!!

Tata... more basketball now.

The Powers of Positive Thinking

Yippppppeeeeeeee!! Talk about speaking what is not as though it were. My friend just called to ask me if I'm busy tomorrow night. Why, you ask? Because she's inviting me to the Nets-Heat game to sit... guess where? COURTSIDE!!! Apparently some boy who has a crush on her plays for the Heat and is leaving her the tickets. YEAH! Ooh I gotta get Dwyane Wade and Shaquille O'Neal-ready. Cuz shawty is a TEE-YEN!!!!!

"Ooh if I gave you peaches out of my own garden and made you a peach pie, would you..." what is she saying? Who really cares? That bitch is pissed at the haters in her life. No peaches for you!

This is how you know it is almost time for me to blow this joint. 11 hours and 44 minutes of anything this boring should violate some kind of law. But since it doesn't, I'll be back to do it again Sunday night.

Nobody blogs on the weekends (which apparently means that the majority of you thieves are using the Internet at your jobs to blog), so these late night posts should last you for a while. What other meaningless drivel can I come up with for my last 13 minutes? Hmm...

Is Susan Sarandon seriously lending her considerable talent to this new Disney (non-animated) movie "Enchanted?" Yuck.

I'm such a fan of Ellen Pompeo marrying a Black man. Does that make me a hypocrite if all I ever do is rant about the white man's woman stealing our men? Ah well... what's a little hypocrisy amongst friends?

I'm taking up Bikrim yoga to lose weight and increase flexibility. Also, I hear that it clears your mind and brings you peace. I hope so because it's kinda hard to find the positive in sweating out my hair three days a week!

I dislike Thanksgiving. Probably because I don't have the whole family gathering thing planned where you travel for a while and then stuff yourself silly at a big ass table that has a paper turkey centerpiece. Maybe I'll actually have meat this year, though. Here's hoping.

When the schedule says that you are supposed to be at work at 7:00 a.m., why aren't you? And why when you DO finally show up do you not apologize for your tardiness? And in fact you lok at me like I'm stupid because there is ONE prescription in the computer for you to fill? As if the 554 that I filled yesterday weren't shit?

WHERE THE HELL IS MY RELIEF????? IT'S 7:09 IN THE GODDAM MORNING!

30 at 30

Thanks, Wise, for the inspiration for this one (clearly it's a slow one here at the pharm). I don't know why I didn't feel compelled to do this when I actually turned 30 two months ago, but whatever... now I've had some time to think about it.

30 Things to Do Now That I'm 30

1. Make friends with an honest-to-God wealthy person. Not rich, not well-off, but wealthy. The kind that take trips to the South of France like I go to The Cheesecake Factory.
...get married and have a baby (or two). It's time.
...go to Midamor in Sedona, Arizona for the full seven day spa package. It's so necessary.
...get down to 175 so I can actually shop again. Besides, everybody knows that big brides are SO unsexy.
...get on the Christmas Oprah's Favorite Things Show. By any means necessary.
...find my biological parent(s)
...buy a house and a car
...grow my hair out again. I was all gung ho about this a few weeks ago and bought a GIGANTOUR bottle of prenatal vitamins. I've taken one. ONE.
...improve my credit score
...pay my Delta dues. I've been slacking since I moved up here.
...go to the strip club with enough money (either mine or someone else's) to get a quality lap dance
...in the spirit of #11, take a strip aerobics class.
13. Finally, FINALLY sign up for salsa lessons
...go to South Africa for a few weeks
...take a spa vacation to Phuket (sp?), Thailand
...take a girlfriends trip to... I don't know, somewhere fabulous
...get Nets courtside tickets
...get back to tithing correctly. EVERY week
19. Improve my relationship with God
...get out of my dad's pocket
..save $10,000
...get that Gucci Signoria watch with the tiger's eye face and the diamond bezel
...go to a movie premiere in New York and walk the red carpet
...get a little more lipo
...finally man up and punch the shit out of at least one of the myriad of people who says dumb shit to me on a daily basis
...have professional pictures taken. PROFESSIONAL. Not Picture People or Sears Portrait Studio. Professional.
...either get over this obsession I have with Beyonce or finally find a way to convince her that she needs a fourth BFF. Back off Solange, Kelly, and Michelle. Seriously.
...meet Lisa Williams. I really want to have a session with her (preferably for free)
...see my friends more
30. Be happy again.

Things That I Be Thinking About

"How do I breathe without you here by my side?" Open your mouth and inhale, then blow it out. Simple as that. Damn, they make shit complicated for the sake of a hot song.

Why is it that grown ass people can't say "condoms?" Or "pregnancy tests?" All night, I get "can you open the cabinet? You know... the CABINET. The one over there that's locked." My dumb ass: "oh you mean the one with the CONDOMS in it? No problem!" **pushing the intercom button** "Could I get the key for the CONDOM cabinet to the pharmacy, please?"

Why do these little young motherfuckers try to hustle me into selling them Plan B without a prescription with no ID? "She's 18, but she doesn't have a license." "She's in the car- she sent me in to get it." And why do they call it everything except what it is? "Do yall got that 'in the morning pill?'" "How much is it for the 'morning pill?'" SIGH. If your little fast asses weren't gettin it in every damn night, you wouldn't need the MORNING AFTER PILL!

It was Keisha it was Sonya it wasTonya it was MONIQUE. It was Neecy it was Kiki... shawty right there is a TEE-YEN TEE-YEN shawty is a TEE-YEN!

Am I the only person in the world who doesn't give a rat's ass that Marques Houston is engaged to that little air-headed girl from "My Wife and Kids?" Or that Fantasia might be pregnant by Young dDro (whoever that is). Or that the plastic surgeon who killed Kanye's mom (yeah- KILLED HER) had an office above a Kinkos and next to a Subway?

Am I lame for going to the special one day only "Beyonce Experience" movie that's only showing in select theatres today? Probably. Oh well.

Can somebody out there hook me up with a reading by Lisa Williams? I am sooooo dying (no pun intended) to meet her. Seriously. I need it in my life.

Am I somehow less Black because I hope Hilary Clinton beats Barack Obama for the Democratic nomination in '08?

Will I ever wake up one day and be really truly content with my life?

Would it be wrong for me to not invite my family to my wedding? Except maybe my dad because I'd look stupid walking down the aisle alone.

Am I ever gonna get the nerve to audition for the church choir? I'm no Crystal Aiken (yall watch "Sunday Best?"), but I can hold a tune.

Is it wrong for me to be so annoyed by someone that it makes me head hurt, but I keep subjecting myself to their presence (albeit via the Internet).

I wish more people read (AND COMMENTED) on my blog. I want 21 comments some day.

Did I sound like as much of a loser as I felt this morning when I was talking to Boris Kodjoe on the phone? He's just so... beautiful.

Enough. My thumbs are tired.

1990-present

Thank you Organized Noise for the inspiration for today's post. He was reminiscing about what kind of person he was in high school. It kinda got me thinking about who I was then and who I am now.

In 1990 I was 13. I was an only child of a mother who spent every waking moment teaching somebody something. I'm talking about those colorful magnetic letters on the fridge, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in the playroom, and "educational toys." So I was pretty smart. Five feet eight, 110 pounds, size eleven shoe. Long dark hair that I paid $10 every week to get pressed. Glasses that I only wore in school when I had to read the board. Pre-calculus with the juniors. Advanced geography. Science club, French club, Mayor's Youth Commission, orchestr member. Dance class three times a week. Majorette practice once a week, private lessons on Mondays, three hours in the gym on the weekends. Pageants once every two or three months. Long car trips with my mom with the costumes and dresses in big suitcases, makeup in the pink train case, sponge rollers in my hair, fried chicken wings and brownies wrapped in foil with grape sodas in the cooler in the backseat.

My Lord... I really was a loser. The boys didn't talk to me because I wasn't pretty and I had no shape, so I didn't wear the popular biking shorts and long tshirts (shut up, J). My ears weren't pierced until I turned 15 in the 11th grade. I couldn't wear makeup until that year either, and even then, only Mocha Ice lipstick by Revlon. No acrylic nails. No fancy haircut. No car. No drivers license. No boyfriends. No school dances.

Whew.... I was such a loser. I see now why I'm such a different kind of person. Some things have changed, some haven't. Now I'm six feet tall and I weigh 205. I still wear a size 11 shoe. My hair is now short and I just dyed it black. I have contacts and a relaxer. I have my own car now (albeit a Saturn) and I live on my own. I don't dance anymore. I haven't even been to a pageant, let alone competed in one, in 15 years. I couldn't play a note on the violin or the cello anymore. I still don't have many friends. I'm still pretty smart, but I don't use it. I have a dog and an apartment and a job.

I thought this would be fun, but it's kind of depressing me.

You just said write, you didn't say it had to be any good. So here are 38 things about me that you may or may not want to know.
1. Name one person who made you laugh last night? Sister Patterson on I Love New York 2. She's hilarious.
2. What were you doing at 0800? Turning off my alarm.
3. What were you doing 30 minutes ago? Parking my car.
4. What happened to you in 2006? Lots. Read the blog.
5. What was the last thing you said out loud? "It's okay. That was my fault."
6. How many beverages did you have today? None so far.
7. What color is your hairbrush? I have several. Black, brown, and silver.
8. What was the last thing you paid for? 80 minutes of parking time.
9. Where were you last night? What time? Got off at 10, home by 10:45.
10. What color is your front door? Cream.
11. Where do you keep your change? Everywhere! That's why I couldn't finnd any quarters for the meter this morning!
12. What’s the weather like today? Cold and rainy.
13. What’s the best ice-cream flavor? Butter pecan, I think.
14. What excites you? Love. And surprises. And FOOD.
15. Do you want to cut your hair? No more cutting. It's growth time now.
16. Are you over the age of 25? Ah yes. I'm 30 :)
17. Do you talk a lot? Too much.
18. Do you watch the O.C.? Um.. I'm Black. There is absolutely nothing for me to identify with on that show. No.
19. Do you know anyone named Steven? Oh Lord. Yes, I do. Sadly. Worst sex of my life.
20. Do you make up your own words? All the time!
21. Are you a jealous person? Uh no. I have a jealousy problem.
22. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter "M" - Monica.
23. Name a friend whose name starts with the letter ‘K’. - Kim
24. Who’s the first person on your received call list? Bishop.
25. What does the last text message you received say? "Ah..."
26. Do you chew on your straw? Sometimes.
27. Do you have curly hair? If by curly you mean that beautiful (ha!) thick tangled "curl" that I inherited from some unknown stranger, then yes. But I don't wear it that way.
28. Where’s the next place you’re going to? Blomingnails .
29. Who’s the rudest person in your life? Me. Oh dear... me.
30. What was the last thing you ate? A red Tootsie Roll pop.
31. Will you get married in the future? I certainly hope so.
32. What’s the best movie you’ve seen in the past 2 weeks? Last 2 weeks? Isn't this the same question? **mumbling in confusion** American Gangster.
33. Is there anyone you like right now? Yes.
34. When was the last time you did the dishes? Two days ago. Dishwasher.
35. Are you currently depressed? Not really depressed, per se. Just in a really funky funk.
36. Did you cry today? Not yet.
37. Why did you answer and post this? Because if I don't post anything soon, people will start removing me from their blogrolls.
38. Tag 5 people who would do this survey. I don't tag people. Do it if you want.

Foodie

Oh my goodness. Turkey sausage and potato souffle. YUMMO! Just discovered that little gem this morning. Bright spot in a gray day. Yeah!