But first something completely off topic. Because it makes me smile. I'm trying to figure out how I can be the next youtube phenom. So far I've got nothing. But I'll keep working on it.
Bed Intruder Song
He's climbin in yo windows.
Snatchin yo people up.
Tryin to rape 'em so ya'll need to
hide yo kids, hide yo wife.
Hide yo kids, hide yo wife.
Hide yo kids, hide yo wife...
And hide yo husbands
Cuz dey rapin everybody out here.
________________________________
I've told you before I am a self proclaimed attention whore. I undoubtedly thrive on the attention of others. As the baby of the family, and growing up essentially as an only child I had nothing but attention my entire life. Once I started performing regularly and doing PR for the company I garnered even more attention. Please believe that while I know my attention-mongering could be considered a character flaw, it is a part of who I am. And I embrace it. You should too.
Luckily, while I was drowning in my parents attentions, I was not spoiled. Though I'm loath to admit it; somehow, when I wasn't looking, I managed to grow up. I'll be 21 in just 5 weeks. (And I'm not counting. I had to look at the rugby calendar for that...) I successfully manage my income, pay my bills, and still find time to make out with boys ;-) I like being self sufficient...sort of
I was thinking back over the years, before he married my stepmom, when it was just my Dad and me. At 11 years old I lived in a bachelor pad. For breakfast I ate cereal, in the car on the way to school, in a solo cup. We had dishes but didn't use them. And if we didn't get pizza or take out I had easy mac for dinner. I drank cherry 7up straight from the bottle and only had one set of sheets (which didn't even fit) for my bed. Instead of an alarm clock, by dad rang my doorbell to wake me up in the morning. Back in the day, a well placed Daddy...please! would get me out of school for lunch, or home early when I was sick *cough cough*
I have the "play helpless until someone else does it for me" of a youngest child in conjuction with the self centered narcissism of an only child. The makings of a first class brat if there ever was one. I'm definitely self centered. I come off as arrogant, but I like to think I'm not a narcissist. - He was in love with himself. I just think I'm okay. - It's true though, that I probably don't have the patience to deal with people, and I never had to. Patience is a virtue that I lack. I'd liked to have what I want, when I want it, thank you very much. It's probably why I'm such a big fan of delivery.
Between my two sisters and three stepsisters, my parents have a whopping 11 grandchildren. That should keep them satisfied for awhile... and I get to play with the babies without that whole motherhood thing =) See, I don't have to do much. Thanks for handling that part, sisters. Daddy, I hope that should I make it to the wedding phase and decide to broach the topic of motherhood you a) won't be too worn out and b) realize that as much as I like to think otherwise I'll never be too grown up to need my Dad.
No matter how old I am I will always be my Daddy's Little Girl. And the rest is still UNwritten
My Body is a Piece of Art
photo by Jaqi Medlock
September 29, 2010
September 22, 2010
25 Things NOT to Let Me Do at my Wedding
Assuming we make it that far, that is...
In the event that I actually make it to that whole wedding stage in my life; this is a list I've compiled - based on true life experiences - of things that definitely cannot occur on my special day.
Prerequisites for that engagement business:
In the event that I actually make it to that whole wedding stage in my life; this is a list I've compiled - based on true life experiences - of things that definitely cannot occur on my special day.
Prerequisites for that engagement business:
- I like him enough to give it a title
- Approval from Mommy, Patrick & Malaika
- Secondary approval from Daddy, Alan, James, Tabari and Randol
- 1 carat diamond, minimum -- or the answer is no. Seriously. Because you get to keep me forever, and all I get is a stupid ring.
If those requirements are met we may proceed
Things NOT to Let Me Do at my Wedding
In no particular order...
- Have it at a dance studio
- Have it at a Receptions reception hall
- Invite the ghetto family members to the ceremony
- Wear adidas sandals under my dress-- and let people see them!
- Have nasty wedding cake
- Serve fried chicken, chitlins, or ham hocks in the buffet
- Forget the rings
- Have audience members (I guess at a wedding they'd be guests?) catcalling during the service.
- Wear a dress that has: sequins, tulle, ruffles, a poofy princess skirt, long sleeves, been made for prom, or any color other than white
- Keep changing the date
- Cut people from the wedding party
- Have a destination wedding
- Have clashing wedding colors
- Make the bridesmaids wear ugly dresses
- Be an obnoxious bridezilla
- Have a bachelorette party the night before- and look like hell as a result
- Get little sleep --> or I will be like those obnoxious brides on TV
- Hire anyone besides a 100% legit photographer
- Keep a cell phone to tweet play-by-play updates
- Let all my nephews be ring bearers
- Charge admission
- Do anything tacky in the registry
- Give condoms -or other encouragement of slutty wedding sex- to the wedding party as gifts
- Allow illegal substances on the premises
- Use glass bottles/dirty cans on the back of the "Just Married" car
So there you have it. This compilation has been going on for a couple years based on some events I have attended. I decided to make an official document out of the mental list; in hopes that if the time ever comes, we'll be prepared with a checklist of no-nos to make the day run smoothly. Mind you this is in the very distant future. Though I have had some proposals in the past few years-- well, they were more like statements. But that is neither here, nor there. -- A wedding is not even on the horizon of my life. There will be time to accumulate more.
The rest is still UNwritten
September 20, 2010
Epiphany. Spotted in East New York...Again.
Today I used my food stamps to buy a sandwich and naked juice at the corner deli. On the train home, I was drinking my green machine. You know naked juice is that weird looking stuff with all the healthy fruits and veggies etm. whatever else they put in it... It looks nasty, but it tastes good. Since I've been able to get over the puke green color of it, I enjoy a naked juice whenever I can. Anyways. So I'm drinking my juice, and I notice some of the ingredients. Wheat Grass, Grass Root, Buck wheat, Bean Sprouts. Chlorella. I choke. What? Damn my fake dyslexia. I misread whatever the hell that is as Cholera. Meanwhile I'm choking on that sip, causing unwanted attention, thinking cholera can not be good for you.
All of this was on my way back from East New York, where I'd spent a fair amount of quality time with Big Hair and CO. Well really it was just me and Ambrosia, and Jamel. But it was good. Before everyone from that Presentation showed up. The duet I'm supposed to be doing on Thursday was an absolute train wreck last night. And no fault lie on the dancers. The audience loved it - but of course, they don't know any better- so all is right in the director's world. But not in mine. The accompaniment is like a surprise every night. "What version will they play today? And who will give me a note about dancing to the music?" It's not my effing fault they don't know what they're doing. Play the damn CD.
BTW. Today's word is Denigrate: verb. Criticize Unfairly, disparage. The ghastly musical rendition of "When We Were Kings" led me to this word. In my opinion, the live music totally undermines the feel of the entire piece. And diminishes the intricacies of the musicality of the dance. But obviously, my opinions don't matter. Which is fine. So long as I get my damned check before I leave on Friday. K? Thanks.
On a lighter note. I'm still not feeling any depression or lingering anxiety over being an adult. I don't have to wake up for class at 7 AM. Nor do I have to sit in a lecture hall and try to listen to something that sounded way more interesting before I started learning about it. I can stay in bed until noon if I feel so inclined. And I can dress nicely without feeling like I have to be going somewhere special. Like on a date. Or... well, that was really my only occasion for putting any sort of effort into my ensemble before. I kind of like it. Check back with me in a month; we'll see if the feeling lasts...
The rest is still UNwritten.
September 18, 2010
Word of the Day
Laborious [la·bo·ri·ous] adj.: Hard-working; industrious. Marked by or requiring long, hard work.
Epiphany's favorite words
Gargantuan: I mean how often do you really get to use that in a sentence?
Smashing: As in I'm going to give you $1000 for your birthday! Smashing!
Swell: As in I'm Swell. Not like I just punched you in the face; you should ice that before it swells.
Qualm: I tend to have qualms about people and things.
Euphoria: Because "Euphoria makes me horny" lol no. But on more than one occasion someone has called me Euphoria in complete seriousness.
September 17, 2010
If the spa Was a Fairy Tale
"Today was a fairy tale, all that I can say is now it's getting so much clearer. Nothing made sense 'til the time I saw your face. Today was a fairy tale. Time slows down whenever you're around."
While I was at work today in the cage (that's the booking room) my friend and I were having a heated debate on who was the princess of the spa. Of course, I am the princess, but for some strange reason she wanted to debate this issue. It was such a serious discussion that the manager came in to our windowless rectangle.
Acuna: What are you talking about? Who's a princess?
Both of us: ME!
I took a moment to explain the debate, and the one person jury ruled in my favor.
Acuna: Well obviously it's epiphany. She's been the spa sweetheart since her first day. Epiphany is the princess and you're like...the stepsister...that doesn't give messages.
Haha. Let's just say my coworker wasn't pleased with that outcome lol, she made an appeal to the manager on duty. Again the courts ruled in my favor. It was unanimous. And that spurred this fun little game we played until she got off...work that is.
Casting: if the spa was a Fairy Tale - by Epiphany and guest
NYU: Snow White
UCLA: Stepsister Ariel
Queens: Cinderella
Me: Princess!! Tiana..I guess?
Joseppi: Curly - Lost Boy from Peter Pan
Bronx: Sebastian
Retail: Wendy
Mama: Queen Aurora's Mom
Acuna: King Triton
Adais: Jasmine
Rival: Lord Farquar (Shrek)/ Gaston/ Prince Edward (Enchanted) <--This one was a toss up. We couldn't decide
There was not enough time or appropriate fairytale characters to cast every person at the spa. We definitely left some people out, but not intentionally. It's all love. That's all that happened today. And Marvel gave that awesome word of the day. I'm being vigilant in protecting my income and business... so I noticed that over $100 of my paycheck goes to taxes. I was sad with that realization. I would have done better just looking at the check part.
The rest is still UNwritten
September 15, 2010
What's the Story, Morning Glory?
Well, it appears our viewership is growing. For those of you recently joining us, thanks to my mother's epic email blast, welcome. I hope my occasionally brazen writing style doesn't offend you. I've been advised and then forbidden to edit myself, so please stick it out. Stay with me; hopefully you'll enjoy. Tell your friends and click on the ads. I know they're annoying- always flashing about and blinking. Trying to distract you from the excellence that is the writing here in front of you. - But think of it this way, I'm poor. Every time you click on ad, or use the (mostly) worthless search engine at the bottom of the page I make money. So really you're helping to support my life here and thus the craziness that creates this blog. Essentially, without you clicking stuff, I wouldn't be nearly as successful at bringing some cheer into your hum-drum day. It's a little positive feedback cycle...Help me to help you!
There now. That said, let's move on to the good stuff: My current place of employment. the spa
I love working there! Most days.
Most of the time it's chill. My coworkers are cool, my managers are bomb and they pay me decently to stand around looking cute and sound cheerful when I answer the phone. I accept payment for the spa services and get commission whenever clients buy retail. Please understand that this isn't some rinky-dink day spa that are a dime a dozen in New York, I work at an upscale spa. Where our cheapest service is $65 and our standard anything rings up at $110 + tax. That doesn't include any of our specialty services...
So you can imagine people coming in, mostly paying at least $114.95 sometimes less if they've opted for a 30 minute service or simply getting a wax. But even that is expensive comparatively. (I pay a solid $20 including tip, to get your lip waxed at the spa is $16) and sometimes more...way more. Our packages are upwards of $200 and can be as expensive as $500. And let's not forget to mention the prepay bundles offered. I sell those and my 5% commission is $50 -- you do the math.
There are some people who come into the spa and think that costumer service means I do whatever the hell it is they want. Okay, I realized you just dropped like $300 but no I can't extend your gift card. It clearly says expired 8/14/2010 you couldn't come the whole year you had to use the gift card? No? Really? Why...why do I have to deal with the most idiotic rich people ever known in the tri-state area. For example: today this fine lady from Tennessee gave me a ring at the spa.
And oh. my. gosh. the parties. 10 to 15 ladies come in and act like the effing queen of the spa. No I can't cancel your service. Yes I realize you're part of the party but we have policy. You can get the service or you can not, either way you'll pay me $125.40 plus food. Got it? =) Great.
We mostly get like bridal parties/ bachelorette parties. My big sister, D, is getting married this year. I'm so super exited. Every time there's a bridal party I want to get my sister our Bride-to-Be package. I mean... I can't afford to get myself service, and I get 30% off. But you know, it's the thought that counts; and in my mind I can get her an entire $300 package. Yay me. Anyways D, if you're reading this, please know that although I'm poor I'll get you a bomb wedding gift. Promise.
The wedding date has been set for Thanksgiving weekend. Woot woot. Don't know what I'm wearing but I'll be rocking stellar shoes. Prepare yourself, seester. My shoes, may just be superior to yours. The other news that she gave was also very, very happy. (None of your friends read my blog so it's okay)
Seester! I have happy news. I was like I'm really sick and ShoBoy was like, babe, you're preggars. And I was like noooo I need to go to the hospital. And he was all, just take the test. So I did, and got back in bed. He comes in: D...what's two lines mean? And I'm all like... wedding dress!!
LOL! This new one, plus Shaunelle's new bundle of joy due in November-ish (I think, I don't really know) brings my total up to a whopping 5 nieces, 6 nephews, plus 2 newborns. My parents will be well satisfied on the grandkids front. By the time I have kids- if I have kids- my oldest niece will probably be like in her 20s. Lol I'm in no particular rush. Obvi, since we've been over that whole V card thing.
Nevertheless, such is my life about now. the rest is still UNwritten.
There now. That said, let's move on to the good stuff: My current place of employment. the spa
I love working there! Most days.
Most of the time it's chill. My coworkers are cool, my managers are bomb and they pay me decently to stand around looking cute and sound cheerful when I answer the phone. I accept payment for the spa services and get commission whenever clients buy retail. Please understand that this isn't some rinky-dink day spa that are a dime a dozen in New York, I work at an upscale spa. Where our cheapest service is $65 and our standard anything rings up at $110 + tax. That doesn't include any of our specialty services...
So you can imagine people coming in, mostly paying at least $114.95 sometimes less if they've opted for a 30 minute service or simply getting a wax. But even that is expensive comparatively. (I pay a solid $20 including tip, to get your lip waxed at the spa is $16) and sometimes more...way more. Our packages are upwards of $200 and can be as expensive as $500. And let's not forget to mention the prepay bundles offered. I sell those and my 5% commission is $50 -- you do the math.
There are some people who come into the spa and think that costumer service means I do whatever the hell it is they want. Okay, I realized you just dropped like $300 but no I can't extend your gift card. It clearly says expired 8/14/2010 you couldn't come the whole year you had to use the gift card? No? Really? Why...why do I have to deal with the most idiotic rich people ever known in the tri-state area. For example: today this fine lady from Tennessee gave me a ring at the spa.
Thank you for calling the spa this is Epiphany, how can I help you?
Haaaa Tiffany. I purchased a gift card a few daaays ago ova the phone for my sister out thayre in New York. Now she lives oon the upper east side, and I got an email here. Waaahhhy hasn't she got it yet?
Umm? You got an email confirmation? But you called? And asked for it to be mail delivered?
Yeeaass.
Then it's in the mail.
Well can't you hand deliver it? You're right there in the city raght?
Umm...no. I am not a courier.
And oh. my. gosh. the parties. 10 to 15 ladies come in and act like the effing queen of the spa. No I can't cancel your service. Yes I realize you're part of the party but we have policy. You can get the service or you can not, either way you'll pay me $125.40 plus food. Got it? =) Great.
We mostly get like bridal parties/ bachelorette parties. My big sister, D, is getting married this year. I'm so super exited. Every time there's a bridal party I want to get my sister our Bride-to-Be package. I mean... I can't afford to get myself service, and I get 30% off. But you know, it's the thought that counts; and in my mind I can get her an entire $300 package. Yay me. Anyways D, if you're reading this, please know that although I'm poor I'll get you a bomb wedding gift. Promise.
The wedding date has been set for Thanksgiving weekend. Woot woot. Don't know what I'm wearing but I'll be rocking stellar shoes. Prepare yourself, seester. My shoes, may just be superior to yours. The other news that she gave was also very, very happy. (None of your friends read my blog so it's okay)
Seester! I have happy news. I was like I'm really sick and ShoBoy was like, babe, you're preggars. And I was like noooo I need to go to the hospital. And he was all, just take the test. So I did, and got back in bed. He comes in: D...what's two lines mean? And I'm all like... wedding dress!!
LOL! This new one, plus Shaunelle's new bundle of joy due in November-ish (I think, I don't really know) brings my total up to a whopping 5 nieces, 6 nephews, plus 2 newborns. My parents will be well satisfied on the grandkids front. By the time I have kids- if I have kids- my oldest niece will probably be like in her 20s. Lol I'm in no particular rush. Obvi, since we've been over that whole V card thing.
Nevertheless, such is my life about now. the rest is still UNwritten.
September 10, 2010
My Mommy is My Best Friend... Shh!
"Hey Mom, I have a question...it's about sex."
Now... how many of you can actually say you would approach your mother with that topic? Anyone? No? Drinking, Smoking and Sex, normally taboo, are a few of Marvel's and my favorite topics.
It baffles me when I see my friends deliberately keep things from their parents, like their actions are something to be ashamed of. Would you kiss your mother with that mouth? My answer is yes. Yes I would. Because there is absolutely nothing that I do or say that I can't tell my mom about. "Well mom, I hooked up with this guy last night. We kissed. A lot." New Year's Eve 2009 "No, mother, I'm not okay. I'm really, really, really drunk."
My mom has always cultivated a really close relationship between us. Since my parents' divorce when I was 10, it's been just the two of us. Even when I rebelled against her, I could still tell her anything. She encouraged - enforced might be a better word - that confidence.
"Epiphany, are you pregnant?"
"What?? Mom, I'm 12."
"Okay, just making sure. Are you having sex? You know you can tell me these things. I'll make sure it's safe."
I'm sure my friends would have loved that openness I share with my mom. Meanwhile they were sneaking around, trying to think up reasonable excuses for someone to buy their birth control. "I just want to regulate my period..." Yeah right. If you're so worried about getting pregnant despite a condom, perhaps you should abstain from that particular activity?
When I was in high school I couldn't go to parties that were unchaperoned. I'm not exactly sure of her reasons behind that; but I do know that after, I'd tell her what happened. Yes there's drinking, smoking and sex.
Marvel on:
Drinking.
If I'm going to drink she preferred I did it in the house. I had my first drink at 8. French champagne for my birthday. I started drinking regularly at 14. I was on a cruise with my dad and some family friends. *sigh* Such fond memories. I've been drinking with my mom since I was 15. At two months to my 21st birthday, I'm pretty much over that whole novelty. I drink responsibly, and I always have...for the most part - there are a few occasions that I won't mention here. But I know how to because of my mom. I didn't feel the need to go crazy when I came to New York. I never had the desire to go out and get slopping drunk. It's happened where external circumstances have driven me to drink more than I can handle while I'm out, but that's another matter entirely.
Smoking.
"I still remember what I was doing when I finally got that package I shipped myself from Jamaica." MOM!! Smoking has never really been an issue for me. Yes I've done it. Yes I was mostly in high school. Yes I do have asthma. Because of that I wasn't particularly into smoking - fags or pot. That doesn't mean Marvel hasn't regaled me with some fascinating stories of her weed smoking days. And sending that good green stuff back from Jamaica via USPS. My sister told me that dear old dad smokes weed in his cigars... you know, sometimes I thought they smelled a little off. The first time I got high I thought I was going to die. I couldn't do anything... Which is why I say No. Activity is my anit-drug. LOL
Sex.
We started the sex talks early. I was 3 when Marvel first told me about "bad touches" Since then I've added some catchy phrases to keep you away from my special no-no place. "Stop don't touch me there. These are all my private squares," is always a crowd pleaser. More recently I've been known to say, "Did I say you could touch that? *dramatic pause* This is gold." That one is fun. The shocked looks I get during the dramatic pause are priceless. And, since my lesson on places other people shouldn't touch, we've graduated to more complex topics.
If you hadn't noticed, sex has been on my mind recently. It's in my blogs and my facebook statuses. It's in the guys I'm talking to, and my rapidly growing sexual awareness. Amazingly enough my mother helps me rationalize the snarling mass of confusion in my head, and the hormones trying to take over my body. I love her!
"Epiphany, sex is like milk. I mean...it's really good. But do you want to drink it for no reason?" Well, no not particularly. I love a glass of milk with Tortuga Rum Cake from Aruba, or oreos and peanut butter. If I'm going to have a pop tart there's probably milk involved. And with cereal... But I'm digressing. Milk was a great metaphor for me. Because I am a milk snob. Milk past the sell by date gets thrown out and sour milk, is simply not acceptable. "Sex just for the sake of sex is like drinking sour milk. It tastes okay, but later you don't feel so good." Losing control = sex regrets. Thanks Mom!
The Boys.
Baby Boy: Have fun with him. He'll grow up and you'll be off the hook
The Suit: Beware of this fast talker. Take a moment to regain control of your mind, he'll talk you out of your panties so fast you'll wonder how it happened. When you don't think you do dumb shit.
The Athlete: He. Is. A. Keeper. In every aspect. Respect. Loyalty. Consideration. Don't discount his feelings. What he does for you is love.
I have very few best friends my age. Like 3. Marvel has at least 35 years more experience on all of them. So yes. My mommy is my best friend. She's my best source of advice, and I know she always has my best interest at heart. She's biased in her opinions and my biggest fan. Her enthusiasm for my dance career is sometimes embarrassing, but I secretly love it. She's the"cool mom." The best, and you wish your mom was as awesome as mine. Just saying.
The rest is still UNwritten.
Now... how many of you can actually say you would approach your mother with that topic? Anyone? No? Drinking, Smoking and Sex, normally taboo, are a few of Marvel's and my favorite topics.
It baffles me when I see my friends deliberately keep things from their parents, like their actions are something to be ashamed of. Would you kiss your mother with that mouth? My answer is yes. Yes I would. Because there is absolutely nothing that I do or say that I can't tell my mom about. "Well mom, I hooked up with this guy last night. We kissed. A lot." New Year's Eve 2009 "No, mother, I'm not okay. I'm really, really, really drunk."
My mom has always cultivated a really close relationship between us. Since my parents' divorce when I was 10, it's been just the two of us. Even when I rebelled against her, I could still tell her anything. She encouraged - enforced might be a better word - that confidence.
"Epiphany, are you pregnant?"
"What?? Mom, I'm 12."
"Okay, just making sure. Are you having sex? You know you can tell me these things. I'll make sure it's safe."
I'm sure my friends would have loved that openness I share with my mom. Meanwhile they were sneaking around, trying to think up reasonable excuses for someone to buy their birth control. "I just want to regulate my period..." Yeah right. If you're so worried about getting pregnant despite a condom, perhaps you should abstain from that particular activity?
When I was in high school I couldn't go to parties that were unchaperoned. I'm not exactly sure of her reasons behind that; but I do know that after, I'd tell her what happened. Yes there's drinking, smoking and sex.
Marvel on:
Drinking.
If I'm going to drink she preferred I did it in the house. I had my first drink at 8. French champagne for my birthday. I started drinking regularly at 14. I was on a cruise with my dad and some family friends. *sigh* Such fond memories. I've been drinking with my mom since I was 15. At two months to my 21st birthday, I'm pretty much over that whole novelty. I drink responsibly, and I always have...for the most part - there are a few occasions that I won't mention here. But I know how to because of my mom. I didn't feel the need to go crazy when I came to New York. I never had the desire to go out and get slopping drunk. It's happened where external circumstances have driven me to drink more than I can handle while I'm out, but that's another matter entirely.
Smoking.
"I still remember what I was doing when I finally got that package I shipped myself from Jamaica." MOM!! Smoking has never really been an issue for me. Yes I've done it. Yes I was mostly in high school. Yes I do have asthma. Because of that I wasn't particularly into smoking - fags or pot. That doesn't mean Marvel hasn't regaled me with some fascinating stories of her weed smoking days. And sending that good green stuff back from Jamaica via USPS. My sister told me that dear old dad smokes weed in his cigars... you know, sometimes I thought they smelled a little off. The first time I got high I thought I was going to die. I couldn't do anything... Which is why I say No. Activity is my anit-drug. LOL
Sex.
We started the sex talks early. I was 3 when Marvel first told me about "bad touches" Since then I've added some catchy phrases to keep you away from my special no-no place. "Stop don't touch me there. These are all my private squares," is always a crowd pleaser. More recently I've been known to say, "Did I say you could touch that? *dramatic pause* This is gold." That one is fun. The shocked looks I get during the dramatic pause are priceless. And, since my lesson on places other people shouldn't touch, we've graduated to more complex topics.
If you hadn't noticed, sex has been on my mind recently. It's in my blogs and my facebook statuses. It's in the guys I'm talking to, and my rapidly growing sexual awareness. Amazingly enough my mother helps me rationalize the snarling mass of confusion in my head, and the hormones trying to take over my body. I love her!
"Epiphany, sex is like milk. I mean...it's really good. But do you want to drink it for no reason?" Well, no not particularly. I love a glass of milk with Tortuga Rum Cake from Aruba, or oreos and peanut butter. If I'm going to have a pop tart there's probably milk involved. And with cereal... But I'm digressing. Milk was a great metaphor for me. Because I am a milk snob. Milk past the sell by date gets thrown out and sour milk, is simply not acceptable. "Sex just for the sake of sex is like drinking sour milk. It tastes okay, but later you don't feel so good." Losing control = sex regrets. Thanks Mom!
The Boys.
Baby Boy: Have fun with him. He'll grow up and you'll be off the hook
The Suit: Beware of this fast talker. Take a moment to regain control of your mind, he'll talk you out of your panties so fast you'll wonder how it happened. When you don't think you do dumb shit.
The Athlete: He. Is. A. Keeper. In every aspect. Respect. Loyalty. Consideration. Don't discount his feelings. What he does for you is love.
I have very few best friends my age. Like 3. Marvel has at least 35 years more experience on all of them. So yes. My mommy is my best friend. She's my best source of advice, and I know she always has my best interest at heart. She's biased in her opinions and my biggest fan. Her enthusiasm for my dance career is sometimes embarrassing, but I secretly love it. She's the"cool mom." The best, and you wish your mom was as awesome as mine. Just saying.
The rest is still UNwritten.
September 6, 2010
Still A Virgin?!?
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I can't tell you how many times, since I've reached a sex appropriate age, I've been asked that question. (Since I think my daddy is reading this I have to say that I'm sure he believes I'm yet to reach that age. 27 right dad?) Or gotten that shocked reaction when I say that I am. YOU'RE still a virgin?!?! Why does that surprise you so much? It's not like I'm a huge whore... or maybe it's that condescending version Awwh. That's cute. Hang on to it. Fuck. You. Don't patronize me.
Yes, okay, fine. I still have my V card. Mainly because I've had no desire to give it to anyone thus far. I came close recently (apparently tipsy me is a horny slut...in case you were wondering) but, alas, my homie, Jesus, (pronounced Hey-suus) was looking out. It's not like I'm really holding onto it until marriage...per say. I've maintained it for so long, it just seems stupid to throw it away at this point. My new company members at CO think that I'm one night of debauchery away from an artistic breakthrough. Well that makes me feel good... I have to wait to have great sex to get better at dancing... damn =( Yes, I'm a twenty year old virgin; but at least I know that the man who does eventually get my virginity, will give me damn good sex. =) Which is all that really matters.
I'm a Scorpio. According to Tyrese in Signs of Lovemaking (which is a great song if you haven't heard it recently) by nature I am ridiculously sexual. I exude a natural sensuality- I suppose- that commands and demands attention. Which, sometimes unfortunately, I get. It must be my subconscious and thus far untapped physicality that calls so much to the guys. Who knows, really? Not me. But they love to watch me walk away ( I bend and snap*)
Right. Back to virginity. Several cities are currently running billboards advertising a hotline for virgins to call, if you need help that is. What kind of help does it offer? Well, I'm glad you asked. I called - not because I was interested in the "help" - I just wanted to know what the point was. I'm happy to report that it was actually quite entertaining. The billboards and the phone number are part of the marketing campaign for Sony's new movie The Virginity Hit about guys helping their friend lose his virginity. Apparently these billboards have been flagged as offensive and some state governments are attempting to get them removed.
But why? I mean for some backward reason in our great prudish nation, sex sells. Why yes, I would like to buy whatever the hell that beautiful half naked man is selling. Duh. If you wear Old Spice you will smell like a man, man. And the man my man could smell like, makes me want a man who smells like a man...man. And wearing Axe makes good girls go bad. No matter how dirty your balls are, Axe body wash will help you clean them so they're more enjoyable to play with...then girls will jump your bones.
I'm sure there's some lesson in advertising in there...but that's not really my point right now. The point is sex is overly abundant everywhere.
Maybe that coupled with a less intelligent view on reverse psychology is what makes men think "no" means "I'm being coy". I'm not. Here's a story. I'm headed out. Waiting for the train to East new York. It's 1 AM.
Man: damn girl.
Me: .....
You have a boyfriend
Yep (No hesitation. DO NOT HESITATE! I swear they can smell a lie if not delivered confidently)
What can I do? He take care of you?
Oh yes.
Everything you need
Yes.
You're sure. How can I oblige you?
... ignored.
Is he better than me
what the...? I really can't say
Want to try?
Absolutely not.
Why Not?
I have a boyfriend...I'm not that kind of girl
I think you're playing.
I'm not.
I think you want to give me some.
That is not at all true. What I wish I said Please take your chapped lips and rotting teeth out of my personal space before I punch you in the face.
Ironically, a quite enjoyable night/early morning was sandwiched between this unfortunate event and my walk of shame - minus the shame part - the next morning. I got an escort to the train. A kind fellow got out of his car, since I wouldn't get in, and walked me to the subway station. And then a late thirties asked if I was married and blessed my day when I said I was uninterested. *sigh* Such is my life. And if you're in for a laugh give the Virgin hotline a call. Tis quite amusing.
The rest is still UNwritten.
September 2, 2010
I Cannot Go Unchaperoned
Evidently at 20 years old I still need a chaperone on a day to day basis. It's a shame that I can't walk out my front door in any sort of apparel without garnering some sort of observation. There are some attentions that even a self proclaimed attention whore could do without.
I've spent the last three years of my life trying to figure out how to get the "Talk to me, Please! I'm interested" that's tattooed somewhere on my person off. Because I figure there must be something that signals them, and it's certainly not me. I don't smile or speak or even make eye contact. WHY DOESN'T MY LACK OF RESPONSE INSULT YOUR MALE EGO?? I'm not interested. Leave me alone.
Quite recently I was subjected to a one sided conversation from the subway platform at Union Square to 33rd Street. It's almost like that time I was followed for 45 minutes from Greenwich to Gramercy, but not quite, because I found them amusing. This time I did not look at said person. We made NO eye contact, I was listening to my iPod for heaven's sake. I didn't even know we were having a conversation until he tapped my shoulder.
Me: Ummm what?
Sir: mumble mumble murmur murmur
Me: ...okay?
Sir: murmur murmur mumble mumble
I go back to listening to music. Unfortunately, I can't help but notice that his mouth is still moving. Finally- FINALLY!!- he stands to get off the train. He takes me hand - EW!- and bids me farewell. My life! Why??
This happens to me daily. When I'm coming out of rehearsal: Mm girl, I can make you sweaty. When I'm going to the gym: Can I work you out? Heaven forbid I walk out of the house wearing a reasonable ensemble. Because then I have "a confident walk" when I'm looking "sexy as hell." What makes it okay for them to talk to me like that and then I'm an arrogant bitch for not responding?
Well news flash: AYE GIRL is not the way to speak to any female. Now don't get me wrong, I'm definitely not above using my feminine wit and charm to get what I want. Dinner, Movie, Physical labor, Work, Affection, Bedding. Yes it even works on my Dad - Though I think that has more to do with being Daddy's little girl than my extensive charm.
Also, I think I get work because I'm such a witty and charming person. =) I mean I love to banter - which I was recently informed is actually me flirting- with my gay managers, with the male massage therapists, with my coworkers, with the clients at the spa. Everyone loves a good banter with a worthy opponent. I've found that a well placed smile can pretty much negate anything bad I may have said... to the point that the poor person I just insulted isn't even aware of what just happened.
I do love to play the bitchy role when I'm acting. It's way more fun than being the good girl. Mind you, the bitch is never the main character - unfortunately for me- but I can get over it. As long as I get to make witty comebacks. I got a part in a short film back in April. It was supposed to film in May. Then June. Then when I was gone in July. Then in August. Now in September. I'm not holding my breath. But I'm pretty sure the director just gave me the part because he thinks I'm cute. And he likes that I'm a dancer. Because Lord knows I f---ed that audition up. I've been interviewed on his radio show, and for his TV station. I even have a script. I get all this advanced privileges and I don't even have to go to the boring production meetings. Yayy me!!
I guess that in the right setting I can turn up the charm and flirt mercilessly with the opposite sex. I suppose the flirting seeps out even in the situations when I don't want it to. Because hey! In the end, a Scorpio woman can drown you in her passion. I guess I really do need a chaperone... :-) oh well.
The rest is still UNwritten
I've spent the last three years of my life trying to figure out how to get the "Talk to me, Please! I'm interested" that's tattooed somewhere on my person off. Because I figure there must be something that signals them, and it's certainly not me. I don't smile or speak or even make eye contact. WHY DOESN'T MY LACK OF RESPONSE INSULT YOUR MALE EGO?? I'm not interested. Leave me alone.
Quite recently I was subjected to a one sided conversation from the subway platform at Union Square to 33rd Street. It's almost like that time I was followed for 45 minutes from Greenwich to Gramercy, but not quite, because I found them amusing. This time I did not look at said person. We made NO eye contact, I was listening to my iPod for heaven's sake. I didn't even know we were having a conversation until he tapped my shoulder.
Me: Ummm what?
Sir: mumble mumble murmur murmur
Me: ...okay?
Sir: murmur murmur mumble mumble
I go back to listening to music. Unfortunately, I can't help but notice that his mouth is still moving. Finally- FINALLY!!- he stands to get off the train. He takes me hand - EW!- and bids me farewell. My life! Why??
This happens to me daily. When I'm coming out of rehearsal: Mm girl, I can make you sweaty. When I'm going to the gym: Can I work you out? Heaven forbid I walk out of the house wearing a reasonable ensemble. Because then I have "a confident walk" when I'm looking "sexy as hell." What makes it okay for them to talk to me like that and then I'm an arrogant bitch for not responding?
Well news flash: AYE GIRL is not the way to speak to any female. Now don't get me wrong, I'm definitely not above using my feminine wit and charm to get what I want. Dinner, Movie, Physical labor, Work, Affection, Bedding. Yes it even works on my Dad - Though I think that has more to do with being Daddy's little girl than my extensive charm.
Also, I think I get work because I'm such a witty and charming person. =) I mean I love to banter - which I was recently informed is actually me flirting- with my gay managers, with the male massage therapists, with my coworkers, with the clients at the spa. Everyone loves a good banter with a worthy opponent. I've found that a well placed smile can pretty much negate anything bad I may have said... to the point that the poor person I just insulted isn't even aware of what just happened.
I do love to play the bitchy role when I'm acting. It's way more fun than being the good girl. Mind you, the bitch is never the main character - unfortunately for me- but I can get over it. As long as I get to make witty comebacks. I got a part in a short film back in April. It was supposed to film in May. Then June. Then when I was gone in July. Then in August. Now in September. I'm not holding my breath. But I'm pretty sure the director just gave me the part because he thinks I'm cute. And he likes that I'm a dancer. Because Lord knows I f---ed that audition up. I've been interviewed on his radio show, and for his TV station. I even have a script. I get all this advanced privileges and I don't even have to go to the boring production meetings. Yayy me!!
I guess that in the right setting I can turn up the charm and flirt mercilessly with the opposite sex. I suppose the flirting seeps out even in the situations when I don't want it to. Because hey! In the end, a Scorpio woman can drown you in her passion. I guess I really do need a chaperone... :-) oh well.
The rest is still UNwritten
September 1, 2010
Dirt Roads, and Mountains, and Jungles!! Oh MY!
This too is something that has already been written. Marvel and I went to Costa Rica in May 2008 for a little summer get away. I thought I'd share another of our adventures. This one in the real Jungle. Enjoy =)
Published May 16, 2008
Costa Rica. A country that meets both the Pacific Ocean and the Caribbean Sea, is nudged between Nicaragua and Panama. It is roughly the size of South Carolina, yet takes at least 18 hours to reach either border and 3 hours to the coast from the center in San José.
I was fortunate enought to spend the past 4 days in the beatiful sun and warmth of said country with my mother. We stayed in San José a city, with no beach. (which is not exactly what i had in mind for my Costa Rican vacation, let me tell you). So obviously the beach, with sand and more sun was a must.
Here is where the story gets interesting. There was a tour through our hotel place to the Pacific coast, for beaches and ocean swimming, etc. $125 per person. Pretty Pricey for a trip to the beach, right? Marvel and I aren't really into wasting money, so she decides that instead we rent a car (against everyone else's warnings) for $75 and make our own tour. Woohoo!! So we head out on Tuesday morning, with some books, stuff for the beach, a map of Costa Rica and our rented car. Well there aren't really street signs there, but as long as you know where you're going it's all good.
Incident 1. We're driving along. The rental car agent had warned us to bring passports in case we got pulled over. Mommy says, "I'm not going to get pulled over." Sure enough, Marvel drives 80 kmh in a 60 zone --unintentionally--and we get pulled over. Well, shit. With the language barrier I thought it would be super difficult. Not so much. I understood that we had the option of paying the cop a $20 dollar ticket, paying the rental agency $30 for the ticket, or my personal favorite: paying the cop $20 and NO ticket!!! we took the latter and continued on our way.
We made it to the beach, a Marriott hotel//resort that we snuck into and pretended like we belonged there. It was lovely. We had lunch at a little local restaurant, where this man was shamelessly flirting with Marvel-cuz she's hot or something. and then went to the natural park that was our main destination.
Incident 2. The park was closed when we got there, but we stopped for drinks before heading back to the city. It gets really dark there, like at 6, and we had a 3 hour drive back to San José starting at 5. To summarize my first 19280128 paragraphs: Everything was fine until it got dark.
Incident 3. A wrong turn on our way back to San José puts us on a road we didn't recognize, but instead of turning around we continue; but ask for directions... ? One road leads to another (literally) and about 45 minutes later we are sufficiently lost on the Costa Rican roads without numbers or road signs and it's getting worse. All of a sudden the road ends, and we are now driving along an unpaved, one-laned, dirt road. That climbs up and up and up the side of a mountain. Meanwhile, I'm in the jungle trying to navigate in the dark. (And I mean dark. New York has given me a complex about what night looks like. It gets so effing dark everywhere else!!)
Before my little story comes to a close, because obviously I'm fine, I'd like to say that it was at the top of a mountain, on a dirt road, in the jungle, on a very dark night, that Marvel and I wander into a cantina of sorts and ask for directions to San José. On a Paved road. Preferably with lights. We spent an extra hour that night being lost on a dirt road. I was traumatized, it was not fun. But I can look back and laugh at it now, as long as it NEVER happens again.
And then on Wednesday I was on top of another mountin, where I zip-lined through trees on a canopy tour. Basically this trip rocked, minus when it was dark out!! <3
*This has already been written
Published May 16, 2008
Costa Rica. A country that meets both the Pacific Ocean and the Caribbean Sea, is nudged between Nicaragua and Panama. It is roughly the size of South Carolina, yet takes at least 18 hours to reach either border and 3 hours to the coast from the center in San José.
I was fortunate enought to spend the past 4 days in the beatiful sun and warmth of said country with my mother. We stayed in San José a city, with no beach. (which is not exactly what i had in mind for my Costa Rican vacation, let me tell you). So obviously the beach, with sand and more sun was a must.
Here is where the story gets interesting. There was a tour through our hotel place to the Pacific coast, for beaches and ocean swimming, etc. $125 per person. Pretty Pricey for a trip to the beach, right? Marvel and I aren't really into wasting money, so she decides that instead we rent a car (against everyone else's warnings) for $75 and make our own tour. Woohoo!! So we head out on Tuesday morning, with some books, stuff for the beach, a map of Costa Rica and our rented car. Well there aren't really street signs there, but as long as you know where you're going it's all good.
Incident 1. We're driving along. The rental car agent had warned us to bring passports in case we got pulled over. Mommy says, "I'm not going to get pulled over." Sure enough, Marvel drives 80 kmh in a 60 zone --unintentionally--and we get pulled over. Well, shit. With the language barrier I thought it would be super difficult. Not so much. I understood that we had the option of paying the cop a $20 dollar ticket, paying the rental agency $30 for the ticket, or my personal favorite: paying the cop $20 and NO ticket!!! we took the latter and continued on our way.
We made it to the beach, a Marriott hotel//resort that we snuck into and pretended like we belonged there. It was lovely. We had lunch at a little local restaurant, where this man was shamelessly flirting with Marvel-cuz she's hot or something. and then went to the natural park that was our main destination.
Incident 2. The park was closed when we got there, but we stopped for drinks before heading back to the city. It gets really dark there, like at 6, and we had a 3 hour drive back to San José starting at 5. To summarize my first 19280128 paragraphs: Everything was fine until it got dark.
Incident 3. A wrong turn on our way back to San José puts us on a road we didn't recognize, but instead of turning around we continue; but ask for directions... ? One road leads to another (literally) and about 45 minutes later we are sufficiently lost on the Costa Rican roads without numbers or road signs and it's getting worse. All of a sudden the road ends, and we are now driving along an unpaved, one-laned, dirt road. That climbs up and up and up the side of a mountain. Meanwhile, I'm in the jungle trying to navigate in the dark. (And I mean dark. New York has given me a complex about what night looks like. It gets so effing dark everywhere else!!)
Before my little story comes to a close, because obviously I'm fine, I'd like to say that it was at the top of a mountain, on a dirt road, in the jungle, on a very dark night, that Marvel and I wander into a cantina of sorts and ask for directions to San José. On a Paved road. Preferably with lights. We spent an extra hour that night being lost on a dirt road. I was traumatized, it was not fun. But I can look back and laugh at it now, as long as it NEVER happens again.
And then on Wednesday I was on top of another mountin, where I zip-lined through trees on a canopy tour. Basically this trip rocked, minus when it was dark out!! <3
*This has already been written
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