Wednesday, March 29, 2006
(This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.)
Dear Diary: For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college football team 25yrs ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26 yr. old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.
My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY: Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She was something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!! She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. I enjoyed watching the skilful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today.
Very inspiring, Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, Although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!
TUESDAY: I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!! It's a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY: The only way I can brush my teeth is by lying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered the other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whines that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurts when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.
THURSDAY: Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes. Belinda took me to workout with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.
FRIDAY: I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleading bitch. If there were a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the*&%#(#&** barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
SATURDAY: Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.
SUNDAY: I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year, my wife (the other bitch), will choose a gift for me that is fun --like a root canal or a vasectomy.
tags: Jokes Humor Laugh
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
when you cry...
NO ONE sees your TEARS.
when you are in pain...
NO ONE sees your HURT.
when you are worried...
NO ONE sees your STRESS.
Sometimes...when you are happy...
NO ONE sees your SMILE.
just ONE time...
Don't front. You know you're laughing with me.
Anyway, she (my niece) and I have decided that the reason I don't find Brad Pitt sexy is because of a generational thing. I'm older, so I'm not feeling the whole Usher, Jay-Z, and most anybody with all that grill/gold crap in their mouths. Maybe.
So, back at my niece, here's my list of Sexiest Men (in no particular order):
- Denzel. Of course. He's got that natural & easy kind of charisma. I hope I never meet him because I would probably embarass myself badly. Let that man flash that smile at me & watch the knees buckle... Down she goes. And I like the family-man thing he's got going (with a wife who is like a "real" person & not some plastic, Barbie-doll imitation of womanhood. Lucky, lucky her.)
- Keanu Reeves. I don't know. Just something about a man who doesn't seem to pretend about anything. I like the look: handsome & flawed-not-airbrushed. He's got those wonderful eyes and a great smile. He doesn't seem fake & he doesn't seem to be trying to live up to or fit into all that celebrity b.s.
- Will Smith. I don't know. He's got the silly, sexy, playful mix going on. And another family man (although I heard a disturbing rumor about a belief in "open" marriage...? That would ruin some of the fantasy for me, but...)
- Puffy. Or Diddy. Or Daddy. What is he calling himself these days? ANYway. I like that combination of bad boy/smart. Let this man get a little bit older and settle down some - that's going to be hot.
- Maurice White. Y'all know how I feel about Earth, Wind & Fire. I have loved Brother White since I was 14 or 15 years old. Broke my heart that I never got to see E,W & F in concert. Maurice has the wiseman vibe about him. He's so calm and proud of his Blackness. It's probably a good thing I never made it to a concert when I was so young. I might have done something undignified, like throw my draws up on the stage! But now that I'm older and calmer - I could love Maurice right. Black love, y'all. I'm on a roll.
- Tyler Perry. Who doesn't love a writer? Plus, he's tall. That's just interesting to me.
- Prince. Why? Have you heard this man sing "Adore?" Good mercy. Anybody that comes up with lyrics like that... I always did like his music, but he got even sexier to me when I heard him do Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me."
- Steve Harvey. I LOVE this man. First of all, he cracks me up. Second, he kind of "country," like me. I just know he's a good time.
- Babyface. He's really sexy, but he's too manicured for me to want to hang out with. I don't mind dolling up for a night out, but day-to-day, I'm a blue jeans, sandals, t-shirt gal. I don't do makeup and hair gel, so I probably would always feel way under-dressed around 'Face.
- My former brother-in-law. Yeah, I was the kid sister, trailing around like a love-sick puppy whenever my sister's boyfriend came around. I was just a kid, but I just knew I was in love. It cracked my sister up to see me swooning whenever David came around. My sister is 10 years older than me (so is David), and by the time I was 12, I just knew that she'd stolen the man who was meant for me. When they got married, I was the flower girl. David kissed me on the cheek at the reception & I was in a mental time warp for the rest of the day. To this day, David is like family. Last time I talked to him, he called me "sweet pea." Ladies - there's nothing sexier than a man with a southern drawl calling you "sweet pea." Trust me.
"I will love you anyway/even if you cannot stay..."
(Rufus - "Sweet Thing")
Monday, March 27, 2006
11 days til closing.
Instead of focusing on all the stuff I need to be getting done, I spend a lot of time having flashbacks on the times I've had in this house...
I remember the Christmas mornings (when Mom was here) where ALL the brothers, sister, nieces, nephews, adopted family - everybody, sometimes over 30 of us - were here to open gifts, cook, laugh, argue, and just have a blast. Thanksgivings, Easters, birthdays, graduations, new baby home-comings were all pretty much the same way. Those were the only times none of us minded cleaning up a kitchen after feeding 2 armies of people. (You know your life is blessed when you can have fun scrubbing pots with your folks!)
I remember laughing til I almost peed myself when a friend of ours slid under the car in the winter. Me and my sister & a couple of friends were heading out to lunch somewhere. This one friend, who is short anyway, went around to the driver's side, the rest us turned our heads for a second, and -BLOOP!- Hazel was gone. Just like that. We were all thinking of "Twilight Zone" excuses until we heard her laughing. She had slipped and slid right underneath the car - girl was like a mechanic on one of those roll-under things!
And sad times, too.
The last time I saw my mother before she went into the hospital for the final time, she was sitting in her chair over by the fireplace. I worked a night-shift then. My sister was staying home with mom. I came in from work at about 7:30 that morning & when I came up the stairs, Mom was sitting in her chair, watching CNN or something. She looked over and said, "Hi, baby. You look really tired this morning." I was tired. I went straight to bed without giving her a kiss. When I got up later, she had gone to bed to rest because she was feeling "a little bad." When I got to work that night, I remember how thrilled I was that my class had been cancelled. I planned to spend the time catching up on desk work. A co-worker came by to chat & we were sitting there, griping about the long hours we worked when my phone rang. It was my niece. I needed to get to the hospital now. My friend locked up the building for me & I RACED to the hospital. I remember how kind other drivers were to move out the way when they heard my horn & saw my flashers. Mama never woke up.
Good time. Sad times. All in this house.
"My Father promised me salvation, not a life without troubles." (Free 3/2006)
Sunday, March 19, 2006
She calls me
and leaves messages
on the phone
She calls to cry
saying she is all alone
I don't care
and I don't know
how she feels afraid
to let go
Her mind that once
thought up stories
and dreamed my life
it's now all gone
where the illness is rife
Some days she laughs
and seems okay
But then the smile fades
and the joy goes away
Where is she
when she's not here
What is her mind
when it's not clear
How will she
ever be free
How do I let go
when she's already left me
Friday, March 17, 2006
Right now, I'm trying to figure out how to leave the survey I took a minute ago! (Thanks Soulfull)
Okay - that was easy! LOL
(Hey - I'm going to check them later, but if I messed up links to anybody, shoot me an email & cuss me out!)
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Memories about my mama.
Asofetida - I don't know if that's how it's spelled, but I remember Mama saying it's what her mother used to put on her (Mama's) chest when she had a cold or something. Said it stunk to high heaven & probably only worked because the odor scared the germs away.
Urine Shampoo - Mama told me once how, when they were young, her cousin "Bunky" was the only one in the family with short hair(do y'all remember "In Living Color" where one of the characters talked about folk & one of her lines was about a woman with short hair: "hair so shawt you can read her thoughts!"?) and someone told her that it would grow if she washed it in her urine. This fool saved her pee in a big old jar & once a week, she'd pour the urine on it. I don't know what that old pee must've smelled like, but Mama says Bunky grew enough hair in a few weeks to snatch up into a rubber band. She might've grown more hair if "Aunt Jack" hadn't made her stop with the pee shampoos.
Bacon Grease Lotion - Mama says that if they ran out of Jergens or Vaseline, she and her cousins would use bacon grease (and you know she meant that big jar of "drippings" that sat on the stove in an old Folgers can) instead. One time, one of her cousins oiled up and headed off to work. She was running late, so she short-cut it through someone's back yard. "Someone" had some dogs. Dogs smelled the bacon grease. Cousin had to pull the Wilma Rudolph out of her soul and book like the wind. I guess she was leaping fences like somebody had bet money on her. (I suppose she made it away from the dogs. Mama never said. We were both laughing too hard for her to finish that story.)
Sooty Beauty - Back in the day (Mama's day), there weren't a lot of readily available cosmetics for "women of color." Most of my mother's family has LOTS of color & they go from black as midnight (some of them with grey eyes that gave me serious nightmares & this is before colored contacts!) to Light as Vanessa Williams. Most fall in the middlin' to dark category. The lighter-complexioned folk could get away with over the counter lipsticks & blushes and all that. My mother and the rest had to work something else out. So what did they do? Mama says that they'd find the darkest lipstick (usually some kind of slut-red shade) and they could find, then mix in some soot. Yep. Soot from the bottom of pots or burnt wood... The soot would darken up the lipstick enough to compliment a sister with deep roots. (Another time, Mama told me that there were some cosmetics for black women. These were sold door-to-door or could be ordered from ads in the back of romance magazines. A long time ago, someone sent me an old copy of a black romance mag & I saw an ad for "Lucky Heart Cosmetics." Somehow, I picture this as one of the places Mama would have found her makeup when she was young.)
"Busting" a part - My mother was extremely honest. If she didn't know you well, but didn't like something about you, she'd be polite about telling you. If she knew you well - or "owned" you as she did her children - she'd skip politeness & just get to the damn point. (Mama's bossiness with a person went up with her level of approval of them. I could always tell a friend of mine was "in" with my mama the minute she went from inviting them to "come on in and have a seat" to telling them "bring your ass on in here and sit down, boy. That couch ain't gone bite your ass." Most guys who made it past being like by Mama were keepers as far as I was concerned.) One time, I thought it would be cute to wear my hair with a part down the very center. Mama didn't think it was cute. When I came out to rescue a date from being scared into incontinency by Mama, she took one look at my head and asked, "Why you got your hair busted down the middle with that part, looking like Sista Tutta?" (I have no idea who "Sista Tutta" is & I didn't ask. I was too busy sliding back into the bathroom to get that part out of my hair. And, no, I didn't "keep" the guy I had the date with. He laughed a little too damned hard at Mama's comments.)
TPV Perfume - (This crossed my mind when I did my "favorite perfume" on the ABC's yesterday.) When I was younger, I wasn't allowed to wear make-up (don't forget my "holiness" background), and perfume was too extravagant. BUT - I knew I had hit a milestone of "getting grown" when Mama let me wear TPV to a school "dance" (aka: a bunch of kids standing against the wall in the gym and pretending not to notice each other while music played). Talcum powder and vanilla extract. Yep. I didn't get to buy "Heaven Sent" (or whatever it was called), but I sure thought I was some hot stuff when I wiped that cotton ball of vanilla across my shoulders and then puffed on some powder. Shoot. Too bad the only boy who got close enough to smell it was the boy handing out the plastic cups at the punchbowl.
Chewing tar - This falls into that category of "country health" stuff. I can't even lay this on my mama's generation & end it there because she passed it down to us. Until I was about fourteen (right around the time I was leaving my small town life), I - and all my cousins, play & real - chewed tar. I don't remember where it came from. My mama and aunt would have it to hand out to us. It was clean little pieces & shiny where it had been broken or cut into bite sizes. We'd gnaw on that tar like dogs on rawhide. Mama always said it was good for the teeth. And I have to say, I always had great teeth - until the Air Force let their dentists practice on all of us.
Wow. Memory storm. Mama on the mind.
Believe it or not, I owe almost all of my current manuscripts (the ideas, the characters, the settings - everything) to these memories. Of course, I guess most writers will say the same thing.
Speaking of writers - be sure to check out the new link on the left. John Baker, out of the UK, writes mysteries & we've exchanged links. (John - I'm SO coveting the cover design on your books - just beautiful! - & I can't wait to read these.)
"Love is either calm or storm/Sometimes you rain gently into my heart/Sometimes you are a blizzard in my soul"
Yahoo Listing of the artist Kem (nice)
A CSS Tutorial that I seriously need. Gotta fix this dang template problem!
Monday, March 13, 2006
Sunday, March 12, 2006
(I think this is Supa messing with me because of Firefox!)
I tend to mess with things when I get either real (fill in the emotion here: Happy/Sad/Tired/Mad) - usually rearranging all my furniture or doing strange and elaborate things with the clothes in my drawer (arranging everything by color or type). One time I got upset over something at work and I went to the store and bought about 10 of those cute colored plastic storage containers that slide under the bed. I organized all my belts and shoes and scarves they stayed that way for exactly four days. The work situation cooled down and I calmed down. I immediately started just tossing the belts and scarves in my bottom dresser drawer & the shoes got all mixed up in the plastic containers. About a week later, I was picking out shoes in the semi-dark of my room and didn't realize I had on a mismatched pair until I was ten minutes late and just warming up my car. I don't care how dark brown a shoe is, it still doesn't work with a deep blue one - especially when the brown one has a gold buckle on the back and the blue one had a patch of across the toe. Not a good look.
Today, I had double emotions going on. I'm happy about the house selling (of course), but sad that my friends are starting to miss me already. Living in Alaska isn't like living anywhere else in the USA (except maybe Hawaii) when it comes to traveling outside. You can't just hop in your hooptie and take off to visit your folks in Texas or Georgia. Let me back up & make the situation a little clearer: YOU CAN HARDLY HOP IN YOUR CAR & HEAD TO THE AIRPORT. Not unless you have nice, deep pockets, connections in the airline industry, or a Federal Marshall escort with two government paid tickets. You might be able to leave once or twice a year IF: one of the trips is to Seattle, and you made reservations 6 months ahead for the other one. Otherwise, you better like you some long winters or very short - beautiful, but short - summers. (There are no other seasons here. Alaskans joke that we have snow, no snow & Spring.)
I guess the point I was making when I went off on that little diatribe was that my friends won't be able to just "come on down" and see me any old time. So, yeah, I was happy/sad today. Double emotion, double need to mess around with something.
At least this time, I was just playing around with the blog template (and I did remember to save a copy in a file before I started) and not trying out some new program that would make me crazy (HEY SUPA!).
Now that everything seems to be working, I'm going to call it a night & get to bed. I have a lot of chores to get through tomorrow & I have to be done in time to watch "Flavor of Love." I can't believe the season is almost over...But I did hear there's going to be another season filmed. (Wonder if that means Flav didn't end up with either one of the girls???)
Oh well - til next time!
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