'Crazy Lady' on the #6 Jackson Park Express

This morning I took the #6 bus to downtown. Upon stepping on to the bus, I noticed a woman sitting in the seats facing inward, directly behind the bus driver. The fact that she was talking loudly and incessantly was overshadowed by the fact that she was talking to herself. Her top-of-the-morning gibberish was noticeably unwelcome by the Monday-morning commuters. It was not even 7:30am. I would bet most, if not all of us were annoyed by the fact that Monday morning had greeted us too soon, yet again. But in the spirit of big city urbanites everywhere, we ignored her and read our books, magazines and newspapers, or turned up the volume on our iPods. Most would agree in describing the woman as crazy.

But before you go feeling sorry for her and shaking your head in pity, hear this. By the time we reached downtown, the bus driver looks in his rearview mirror and says in an exhausted, yet authoritative tone: Ma'am? The woman in a meek voice: yes? She starts talking some more, but he interjects. This time, he turns around in his seat. Ma'am, come on, you're disturbing the people! Come on now! She then responds, wait for it...okay. And continues to talk, but substantially lowers her voice to a nearly inaudible whisper. So the question being, how crazy was she really? Was she even crazy at all? Maybe she was just obnoxious. I am caught talking to myself all the time. How crazy are crazy people? I have always asserted the belief that your average, homeless 'crazy' person, may have just 'checked out'. Now don't get me wrong, more often than not, the people we encounter on the street, out in public, are certifiably mentally ill. Prayer and medical attention is definitely needed in these cases. But still I often wonder, how many of the marginalized 'crazies' have just become fed up with holding on? I can tell you I have come close to losing it on many of occasions myself. Some might say I have even succeeded a time or two. What keeps us 'normal' people together? How close are any of us from walking down the street with no care in the world of our behavior or who is watching? How thin is the line between sanity and insanity? No matter how crazy we had all classified her in our minds, she wasn't that crazy. She knew what the bus driver was talking about and responded reasonably. Was she even crazy at all? Or just tired of conforming to sanity and the social norms associated with being 'sane'?

My Thoughts on Fantasia

I am truly a Fantasia fan. I have always liked her and enjoyed her singing. I even had the pleasure of seeing her perform on Broadway in the Color Purple. So of course I was upset to hear she had attempted to take her own life. I am against suicide. It is cowardly and short-sighted. What really bothers me more than how people view the whole incident, is for whom she did this for. She met the man, Antwaun Cook, at the T-Mobile store where he was a sales rep. This seems to not bother anyone, but me. Every time, I express how she shouldn't have been slumming it in the first place, people get all, Well she's not that bright or That may be who she's comfortable with or What's wrong with that?. Okay, do I have to say it people? Him working at T-Mobile is not the issue. Him being married and working at T-Mobile is the deadly (no pun intended) combination. He is married, still living with the woman and the ninja works at T-Mobile. That's the damn problem! What are the brotha's redeeming qualities? What did he bring to the table? Then people say maybe it was the bedroom action. But that constitutes a fling, not a a less-than-a-year romance that results in an attempted suicide.

Women, all of us, need to stop slumming it! Stop trying to see the good in EVERYBODY. I am speaking from my own foolish experiences. Stop trying to make a dollar out of 15 cents! Sometimes, all you have is 15 friggin' cents! Take it for what it is, but whatever you do, DO NOT get caught up. I have learned this the hard way. I have dated the fat, the broke, the old, the weird, the dumb, the incarcerated (yes, it's true), the ho, the a$$hole and the all-around loser. Each time, I wanted it to work, because deep down I needed it to work. But when it didn't, I was left thinking I could have spent my time with someone more attractive, more active, more fun, or maybe someone in better shape, with a better job or just more appealing. If it wasn't going to last, I would have rather spent the short time with someone that was on my level (whether perceived or otherwise). Maybe the arguments would not have been so hurtful if they were with someone I thought was cuter. Or the breakup not as bad if I did not have that agonizing feeling of I could have pulled better than him. As someone whose 30th birthday came upon them faster than expected, I wish every woman would be more attentive to what they really want. Trust that God will provide it, and be patient while waiting. It's okay to have a 'snack' in between, but make sure that person isn't putting you in a position where you become more comfortable with dealing with those less than what you want. In other words, stop wasting precious time. Do not get comfortable and lose yourself with someone you should have spotted from the beginning as a 'snack', not your full meal.

Fantasia nearly ended her life, leaving her daughter to be motherless in a cold world, for some dude she met at the T-Mobile store. Am I the only one that thinks that's straight b.s.???

Somewhere, Out There

I have a confession. This is really hard for me to talk about or say, but I must come clean. I have a bit of a problem at my house. My issue is, the building has become infested with mice. That's right, Fifel is in the house! My first encounter was with a baby mouse several months ago. He (or she) was sitting on top of my garbage when I lifted the lid to throw away my trash. I screamed and went one way, he (or she) screamed and went the other. I left the house immediately and did not return for several hours. My life has not been the same since. I could go into details about previous mouse incidents, but they freak me out and leave me paranoid and terrified, so I won't. However, there is victory in every scenario. Today when I got home, I saw from the left corner of my eye, a creature. Yes, there he was, Fifel (Mr. Ghana affectionately calls them 'my little friends'). The good news was he was dead (although that did not stop me from screaming). The bad news: somebody had to get him up and dispose of the body. I could barely look at him, let alone scoop him up without screaming.

I called Mr. Ghana who was working and not paying me the kind of attention I needed (wanted). He couldn't stop work and come over to handle the situation like I asked. It would have taken at least an hour to get to my side of town from where he was. He instructed me to be confident and brave; I needed to get a broom and sweep him up. How was this going to work? There was this little creature with black eyes appearing dead, but was he? Maybe he was the same mouse who was sitting in the dark on my area rug in the kitchen when I got home last night. Perhaps when I threw my cowgirl-heeled shoe (the ones I picked up in Cannes) at him, he was hit in the head. Instead of staying awake until the swelling went down, he went to sleep with what turned out to be a severe and fatal concussion. Whatever the case I was grateful I did not meet him moving around. I did end up pulling my courage together today. I scooped him up and put him in a bag, which I tied up and put with the big garbage I will be taking out first thing tomorrow (I was too lazy to take him to the dumpster). The moral of the story: big girls have to take out their own trash sometimes.

Tastes Like Chicken

Grāpple

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A four pack of Grāpples on a supermarket stand in S. San Francisco, United States.

Grāpple (pronounced /ˈɡreɪpəl/ GRAY-pəl) is the registered brand name for a commercially marketed brand of Fuji or Gala apple that has been specially treated to make the flesh taste like a grape. The product is created via a patent-pending liquid infusion process which includes concentrated natural and artificial grape flavor and water as its primary ingredients.^[1] Contrary to what the name implies, it is an externally flavored fruit product, not a true hybrid of two fruits.^[2] Although there is some controversy as to whether the Grāpple is simply soaked in grape juice^{[citation needed]}, Grāpple sales have been increasing over the past decade.^{[citation needed}

Is there really a need for this? Is this for people who love the taste of grapes, but don't feel like they're getting the crunch obtained only by taking a bite out of an apple?

Is it Friday yet?

I have to stop myself from praying for and forcing Friday, and the weekend in general. Whether we want to admit it or not, the more you hope and wish for the weekend to come, the less you spend time in the present. The less you spend time in the present the faster your life will pass you by. If your current age came around extremely quick, ask yourself, how much time your mind spent counting down the days to your last vacation. How often do you say, "I can't wait for this, or that"? Are we inadvertently rushing our lives away by being so consumed with the future? I used to catch myself saying, "I can't wait until my trip" or "I can't wait until 5pm Friday". I wanted the time to speed up to get to my chosen activity or day/date, however, slow down so that I could thoroughly enjoy it once reached. The problem is, the fun always goes by too fast. So in an attempt to slow down that time, I have learned not to rush my not-so-much fun time. On Wednesday at work, I take it for what it is, just Wednesday, another day. If I feel the desire to do something, I just do it. On Thursday, I may go to hear music with my father at Millennium Park. On Tuesday, I attended a movie premier with my girl. This gave us an opportunity to have drinks, dinner and see a movie in the middle of the work week. A few weeks ago, we attended a party hosted by Moet. These activities increase our 'play time'. They make the weekend come sooner. I don't want my life to pass me by; I want to enjoy every moment of it while I can. So I do. I really make a point of trying to take it one day at a time. Do you?

Napturally Pleased

So yesterday was my first day at work with my new hair. The verdict is...everyone loved it! Those who I assumed didn't, said nothing, which is fine with me. I was so happy. I didn't want to here anything negative or have to invest in a a hair hat (i.e. wig). I posted pictures of my hair, but I am having a hard time getting them to stay. I will talk to my tech-goddess girlfriend (Toni) to see what the deal is. Please be patient.

My Big Chop!

So I finally cut my hair. I am truly a 'natural hair' girl. I am so excited, but still nervous about work tomorrow. I think it is feminine enough where there should not be a problem. I will make sure to have jewelry and a full face the whole time. I think it really looks cute and the cut was very liberating. I did not expect to feel so free. I like it and look forward to the growth process. As my hairdresser said: 'that was the hard part!'

...and baby makes three.

One of my longtime girlfriends (we'll refer to her as Tizzle) is due to deliver her baby soon, in a matter of weeks, two to be exact. I am so very happy for her and her man. I am excited about and for the baby and welcome her entrance into the world. She is already truly blessed to have wonderful, thoughtful and kind parents. With this said, I know how motherhood changes EVERYTHING. I know that Tizzle and I will no longer be able to just call each other up on a whim to get Italian ice and visit the thrift store. Me holding Tizzle's full attention during a phone conversation, is just days away from being almost completely nonexistent. As a mother, she will not be able to cater to me as she used to, for this I am mature enough to accept and understand. It's one of the things I love about all of my girlfriends with kids, they are ALL great mothers. I'm not saying that to just say something, I am truly being honest when I say each one is AWESOME. I would not stand for anything less from my friends. So for this reason, I took Tizzle on a date to mark our last non-mommy days together. We went to Carnivale, an upscale Latin/Caribbean restaurant downtown. The ambiance was beautiful; we had a good time. I slightly mourn the loss of our single girl relationship, but my love for her and the baby overshadow any ill feelings.

Tizzle marks yet another girlfriend who has taken the leap to parenthood and/or marriage. My number of single, ride or die friends is slowly, but surely dwindling down. I have six left. Now don't get me wrong I encourage and pray that ALL of my friends will have the relationships and/or family life they desire. My-My loves the kids! But the more people start taking on new lives, my instinct is that I'm somehow lacking or not keeping up with what is appropriate for a woman my age. Every breakup, every single night spent alone has me feeling my time is slipping away. I never want to hold my friends back and no one could/would accuse me of being a 'hater'. But sometimes your friends can be a good gage of what's expected of you. I am happy for the choices I've made in my life and would not trade anything. One thing I feel I was just getting the hang of was, grown-up kickin' it. Although I have always traveled, I feel as though I'm just getting the hang of TRAVELING. You know, leaving the country, meeting up with friends in different cities, scheduling and coordinating flights to coincide with parties and making it back to work on Monday like nothing ever happened. Yeah that type of grown a$$ woman kickin' it with my friends. Even within the city, going to each other's house to sip wine and talk $hit. Enjoying festivals that we just happened upon. I know what you're thinking, that I'm being obnoxious. That nothing THAT major is going to change, but unless you have been in my shoes, you would not understand. Especially if you're a mother and/or wife. You do not understand how hard it is to coordinate a simple dinner date. You cannot realize the sinking feeling when at the 11th hour you inform me that you cannot attend whatever event because your babysitter canceled. Or your husband forgot about your (our) plans, even though we made them and you apparently told him about a month ago. You don't know how hard it is to try to have a conversation on the phone and you keep talking to a whiny toddler or (in my sister's case) stop mid-sentence to cuss out and threaten the lives of your offsprings. You probably have forgotten how it feels to have your girl, upon hearing your request for time, tell you she has to talk to 'him' first to see what he has planned. And you probably have a hard time understanding how uncomfortable it is to be forced to interact with your husband/boyfriend/baby's father after hearing such glowing reviews of him. That's sarcasm, because we both know how many times we've discussed what a complete a$$hole he can be! But somehow in his presence I have to pretend I know none of these things. Yeah, reach back into your memory banks...

With all that said, I cannot wait for my turn!!! One day soon I hope to see you on the 'other side'...of marriage and mommy-hood.

The Great Stick Up!

My neighbors across the hall, God bless them, they are typically nice, neighborly and quiet. They are a mother and daughter. The ONLY real issue I have with them is they keep their shoes outside of their apartment. This morning I counted 7 pairs! There were flip flops, sandals, galoshes and sneakers. Now as I have mentioned previously, the building is old and has no air conditioner. So in the summertime, the hallway windows are opened, but it's still muggy and hot and the shoes make it funky. They must notice this as well, because recently a Stick Up air freshener was stuck to the door frame outside of the apartment. If that wasn't enough, the other day as I was leaving out and headed to the second landing, I heard someone open their apartment door and wildly spray air freshener outside the door. When the mother looked down and I looked up, she hurriedly went back in and slammed the door.

Here's my issue, you know the shoes are funky, you try everything in your power to keep the smell down. Why don't you just take the shoes inside? I think it may be a one bedroom, so maybe they don't have enough space. But if by chance they do, and I think they can make space, why not bring the shoes in as you wear them? So tonight my Really?...Really?! award goes to my neighbors across the hall. Enjoy this vintage, 80s commercial for Stick Ups air fresheners.

That's What Friends Are For...

Per Oprah.com: Women are hardwired to crave close friendships, and these bonds can provide us with unique benefits. Here, a few things researchers have recently uncovered about the power of friendships.

The friendship effect: Mountains become molehills
How it works: In a study published in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, researchers asked participants to stand at the base of a steep hill and estimate how tough it would be to climb. Those standing with a friend gauged the ascent to be less steep compared with those who were alone.
What's more... The longer the study participants had known their friends, the more gentle they estimated the incline to be. (http://www.oprah.com/relationships/The-Hidden-Benefits-of-Friendship)

With that said, I have been quite ungrateful lately. I have spent so much time concerning myself with individuals and friends who have not called, answered my calls, texted, e-mailed, Facebook'ed, stopped by to visit or anything of the sort, that I forgot the friends who have. The friends who have listened to me whine, cry, holler and cuss. Those whose nerves I have stepped on, on so many occasions, but who have never turned their backs. Those I can give any random 'assignment' to, and they don't even flinch or question it. The friends who tell me things they would never share with another, simply because they know I will not judge or repeat it.

The past few weeks, months even, there have been two people I previously considered myself to be close with, who seemingly dropped off the planet. After unanswered or non-returned calls and texts, it occurred to me, I had been dismissed to some extent. I was no longer in these individuals' favor. I had offended or pissed each off in some way. I felt bad. With both, I speculated what I had done to cause this. In an effort to make things better I would call and invite them to different outings and such. Neither seemed interested or available.

I had begun to get sad. I have never been the type to have an abundance of friends. I have a hard time getting along with my familial peers (two cousins have deleted me from their Facebook pages), let alone people not related to me. I spend a decent amount of time completely alone. And I will admit, I sometimes find it hard to relate to others. When I do get close to someone, it never seems to last. My friendships and romantic relationships alike seem to burn bright and fast, before smoldering and finally fizzling. Since I am the common denominator of all of these relationships, my thought was, it's me.

In the midst of my pity party, a still, small voice said to me: stop complaining about the friends who aren't calling. You've got an assortment of friends who are calling! It is true. I have good friends who I have been active with, who I talk to all the time and who genuinely provide me with love, understanding and pure joy. So what is all the fuss about? In the words of Madea, via my best friend Antoine: learn to separate your friends into categories, you have your roots, your trunks, your branches and leaves. So in that spirit, here are some awesome friendly interactions I have had, the last few weeks:

I owe my best friend, nearly $500 which I am grateful I have it to give back. I am more grateful he gave it to me in the first place. Furthermore, he never sweated me about the repayment. Thank you

My good and 'old' friend Octavia, who just gave me my birthday gift last night, and as usual, it was perfect. Thank you for knowing me.

Nicole, my favorite 'ride or die chick'. She is the closet person in my life, whose life is the most like mine. Thank you

April, who is going through this natural hair transition with me. You keep me motivated. Thank you

Alexis, her sense of humor and intelligence is unmatched. Thank you

Tonisha, you are always so encouraging. Thank you

I can go on and on. This should be my focus, not mess.

Lady Rerun & Justin Case SafeAuto Commercial

I'm posting this because I cannot believe no one else finds this offensive and/or absolutely ridiculous. Oh crap! Really? Really girl?! And what's with the Michael Jackson impersonation? Who came up with this commercial? I don't want insurance from them! Your thoughts please...does this annoy/offend anyone else but me? Lady Rerun, humph.

The Jean-etics

My company's summer interns are great! I really love these kids. There are a couple of interns who are older, but it's the high school and college kids I love the most. They keep me up to date on the new lingo and even clothes. I had never heard of uniqlo, a.p.c. or nudie jeans before the interns. There are two young men in particular who love all things fashion. Once they even let me know that my purse was 'legit'. As boys, they of course adore jeans. In the case of the above mentioned, urban 'streetwear' to be exact.

This brings me to a hilarious (I thought it was funny) quick tutorial about a.p.c. jeans. This brand hails from France; the jeans run anywhere between $77-165. The New Standard jeans that the guys were discussing are typically $165 and can only be found in Barney's here in Chicago. These jeans are 100% raw selvedge denim, meaning they need special care. The jeans are designed to form fit to your body over time. For this reason you are not to wash them for at least 6 months. When you do decide to wash them, one of the ways the company suggests is to go out to the ocean with your jeans on, get out of the water and scrub them with sand, then re-enter the ocean and repeat. I laughed so hard at the boys sincere and serious enthusiasm as they explained this phenomena to me. They were serious, which made me laugh more. They referred me to the internet for proof. Of course I had to check this out. And yes, that is just one of the ways to clean your jeans. Another, more reasonable way is to just wash them in Woolite Dark. Regardless, everyone agrees you are to purchase them 2 sizes too small (they will eventually stretch) and not wash them for as long as you can stand. Because it's raw denim, they are not supposed to wrinkle and everyone swears they don't smell. For even better results you should try to wear them as often as possible to help in the overall final fit. If you wear a wallet or cellphone in your pocket, expect the jeans to remember. The imprint will stay in the jeans- I swear, I saw it! One of the interns puts his jeans on as soon as he gets home each day; people will even sleep in them from time to time.

In all honesty, the jeans are nice and I was considering purchasing a pair of of the stretch denim jeans for women, which only run about $77 (yes I said only, this is high-end stuff people!). Below are the links to the a.p.c. site and care instructions for nudie jeans which is said to be a comparable brand. Take a look, and let me know what you think. Are the jeans worth all of this fuss? Let me hear what you think.

http://usonline.apc.fr/catalog/products/jeans/womens

http://www.nudiejeans.com/thisisnudie/takecare#1

Tina Turner - Private Dancer (2002 Digital Remaster)

Pole-ar Opposites

So last night, Nicole and I went to Flirty Girl Fitness to take a pole dancing class. I have hardly any upper body strength, so this was more than a notion. But we wanted to try it and set out to see what the class was about. For the record, if you're wondering, we would make AWFUL strippers! Between my lack of coordination and Nicole's "I smell something" face, I don't know how much money we'd make. The pole is scary and dangerous. I pulled muscles in both arms during the warm-up alone! Who knew laying on your back while hoisting your legs in the air while making your legs and butt jiggle would cause temporary paralysis in my arms! Anyway, it was during my class that I realized my major issue. Besides the fact that lifting 155 lbs on two weak arms ain't easy, the main hindrance to my stripping career is: I'm too damn sweaty. You see sweat causes you to stick, to the pole, to the floor, to your clothes. The instructor and two regular students had arm sweat bands, leg warmers and/or gloves. This gave them the slippery momentum to swing with ease. I, on the other hand, often found myself on the floor in a pretzel-like tangle. Not sexy nor cute. This led me to research stripper injuries. It turns out not only do our beloved exotic dancers endure injury, their patrons do as well. There are a few lawsuits I found on the web from the past few years involving flying stilettos, broken mirrors and high-heel-clad kicks to the face resulting in broken noses and permanent double vision. So the next time you visit a strip club (if that's your thing, I'm not judging, I'm all for putting some young tenderoni through school. Maya loves the kids!) make sure to tip your stripper and tip her well. She works hard for the money. Below you'll find a two-part article on how to avoid occupational injuries as an exotic dancer. I'm also including Tina Turner's, Private Dancer.

Avoiding Occupational Injuries as an Exotic Dancer, Part 1
As many dancers know, exotic dancing or stripping can take its toll on the skin, muscles, joints, and tendons. With just a little preperation, adult performers at all levels can protect their health for years to come.
Read More

Avoiding Occupational Injuries as an Exotic Dancer Part 2
If you've managed to follow the guidelines in Part 1, there are still several other simple ways for you to improve your health as a dancer and ensure that your joints will still be functioning well in the years to come.
Read More

Hide All Butter Knives Please!

Have you ever noticed how sad, depressed, mad and irritated people who make public and generic declarations of how happy they are seem to be? For instance, my favorites: I'm blessed, Blessed by the Best or I'm saved, sanctified and fiiilllled with the Holy Ghost! Save the drama fo' yo' mama! I'm not falling for it. As always Facebook has brought this to a blinding light. Although my best friend Antoine says it's not the 'real world', I think Facebook serves as a miniature illustration of the world. You have those who, every other day, post how happy, wonderful and full of joy their life is. GM FB fam, I am truly blessed and happy with my life. Really?? Then why do I have the sudden urge to put you on suicide watch? It happens in real life too. I just got off the phone with an ex-boyfriend who has always liked to 'one-up' me in conversation. When I was in school, he would ask me what year I was in, then he would always be at least a semester ahead. If I am single, he is single. If I am in a relationship, or he feels me pulling away from our 'friendship', he let's me know how wonderful life is. How mature he has gotten and how 'cool' his 'girl' is. It annoys the $hit out of me! I try to keep cool and be unfazed. How was your weekend? His response: It was beautiful. I can't complain. I'm just enjoying life! Brotha, I want to believe you, I really do, but I don't. Because when you thought there was a chance for us, this same girl was so boring and annoying. How quickly things change.

In my opinion, happiness is a true state of mind. It is peace within, no matter what is around you. A peace that does not need to be verbalized or spoken. Happiness is spread by genuine love and joy. You do not need to define happiness or name it, in order for it to exist. You simply need to know it, have it and feel it in your heart. I know many of people who do not go around cheesing and saying cliched phrases to express their 'feelings'; but nevertheless, I feel love and comfort around them always.