“…it looks like a beautiful morning.”

- “Beautiful Morning” Little Brother

So, I discovered Friday night that there is a major setback in my routine.  A setback that would usually reduse me to tears and cry out asking why I have been forsaken.  But I know my life, and I know that for whatever reason, the universe has to keep me on my toes.  Considering our economy, I’m sort of glad that I know what it’s like to be focused on my grind and make a dollar out of fifteen cents.  Your girl can DO the damn thing with some beans, ya heard me.  I won’t even talk about how I can get down with some chicken thighs and lemon pepper.

I should totally be asleep, particularly considering that I like to watch reruns of “The Practice” early on Sunday mornings, but I typically wake up early anyway.  I feel so accomplished, because i did everything that was on my list today.  It kept me busy, but I don’t have the beat-down feeling I was anticipating.

Quick!  Five things worse than that movie “The Cookout?”  Wasn’t it just DEPLORABLE.

While we’re on the topic of public tragedies, GARY BUSEY!  Holy shit.  I talk to my kids about drugs regularly, and my children being my children, ask me the whys and wherefores of why drug abuse is bad.  Gary Busey was on television.  I pointed to that.  This dude has been off coke, according to him, for longer than my son has been alive, and yet he is still totally off his nut.  Astounding.

I think it’s time to go to sleep now.

i should be asleep.  at this very minute, i should be asleep.  i’ve spent the last few hours writing.  i had no idea that time slipped away from me. i have this exercise where i do deep breathing exercises and find my happy place.  it’s just that by the time i think of that, way too much time has passed.

the thing is, i’ve done so much writing, and i’m not sure how much of it i’m going to use.  no bigs.  i just hate that television is so bad, and i don’t want to get out of bed and start doign things around the house, because once i get in that zone, i’ll NEVER go to bed.  ah well.  guess i’ll watch the i love money crap on mtv until i fall into a coma.  peace.

just b

It’s 2:38, and I’m awake.  I hate when that happens.  Pretty much every night, around this time, I get up for some inexplicable reason.  Since writing has pretty much taken over all of my free time, I end up either blogging or writing in my journal.  I’ve tried watching porn, but it really doesn’t do it for me these days.  I’m sure this is only temporary, but you have no idea how irritating the ability to rub one out can be.  I’ve got a lot on my mind, and I’m thinking (hoping) that once I’m published, I’ll be a little less keyed up.  Being a surly xantippe is not the move.  I also don’t want some dude telling me how over the course of 90 minutes, he can solve all my problems with his penis.*

It’s Monday, and though last week was hellacious, it was so for the purpose of getting two of my bosses out of the country.  Mission accomplished, so I should be able to occasionally hear myself think.  The plan is to revamp my desk entirely, so that when i do have to pack up and move offices next year, it will be a smooth transition.  I plan on being out of the office during the big move.

I think I’m slipping into slumberland…finally.

just b

*I pray for those who don’t get this “Family Guy” reference.

Beat down.  That’s this chicktoday.  I don’t think I’ve heard my name at all today without a request chaser (B, would you mind…?)  When I walked through the door at 10 o-freakin-clock, I heard every singe song for down-trodden black family and/or woman.  It started with Oooh Child,” followed by “Baby Mama” and went on from there.  I thought it was cute that I called my younger sister, and she had Alicia Keys’ “Superwoman” as my ring and call tone.

When I finally sat down, my feet felt as though I had spent th entire day walking on glass.  It had me thinking about the last time I got a really good foot rub.  It’s been so long, I can’t remember.  it seems, however, that I’m getting sprinkled with some pixie dust.  There is a whole lot more for me to say, but my eyelids are too heavy. nite world.

just b

I have a long day ahead of me, but I can’t sleep. My mind is swirling a million miles a minute, and I’m having a hard time slowing it down. Partially because I’m going through some hurt and anger right now; partially because well, I just can’t stop thinking. What’s funny is that I’ve only had one cup of coffee EAAAAARLYYYYY this (yesterday) morning.

Axe has this creepy commercial, where this dude is made out of chocolate.  Women are taking off pieces of his face, pulling off his arms, biting chunks out of his ass.  This is really not the shit I want to be looking at before I go to bed, but of course they show it during Adult Swim.

I’m going through a 1/3 life crisis, I think.  I wanted things to be so different at 31.  So far, all I’ve managed to do was complete a couple of short stories and come to the conclusion that I’m either getting another tattoo or something pierced.  (Nothing freaky you nasty bastards.)  I’d been feeling really down about it, but I’m reading Suze Orman’s The Money Book for the Young Fabulous and Broke, and she mentioned that she was still waitressing at 29, making $400 a month.  That’s only 2-3 years younger than I, and my salary is much healthier.  My coworker told me not to worry, because real life begins at 40 anyway.  I’m sure I will have met my 23 year old boyfriend by then.

Adult Swim should really come on during prime time.  I want to watch “Venture Brothers” too dammit!

No weight loss to report this week, unfortunately.  It’s been a rough week.  But I’m back in the saddle, and I plan to be at least 12 lbs lighter by my birthday.  I’m not even viewing it as an option.  It MUST happen.

just b

In actuality, it’s one cricket…and he’s lonely.  I don’t care for bugs at all.  They creep; they crawl; they wedge themselves in places they ought not.  Of course, every bug has its place in the ecosystem [what is the purpose of roaches?], but they can really cramp my style.  Once one of my W.I. homeboys and I were hanging out, and I saw the most humongous spider in my doorway.  Okay, maybe it was not that humongonous, but it was blocking my way to the outiside world, so from my perspective, it looked like this. I was about to let him have it, when my homeboy told me about how it was bad luck to kill spiders in doorways because they keep something out/in.  For some reason, i feel like the same thing would apply to crickets.  I feel if there’s some karmic protection over spiders in doorways, the musical cricket should be afforded some type of courtesy in a shower.  But if he doesn’t stop playing Queen’s “Somebody to Love” on his cricket legs, he’s going to meet an untimely demise.

This is totally random, but do you know that folks at the Burger King drive in get HIGHLY offended if your order “chicken nuggets?”  I mean, you say the word “nuggets,” and they totally lose their shit.  It was late, and all I wanted was some food for Finge and the Bug.  I wasn’t a complete douche.  I didn’t order MCnuggets.  Just nuggets.  I don’t think McDonald’s owns the word “nugget.”  Doesn’t Tyson’s chicken call their stuffl nuggets?  In any event, on this particular day, I happened to get a company ho, who got mad belligerent and said, “Uh, we don’t carry nuggets here.  We have tenders.”  Now, since I don’t want my kids getting pubes in their Kids’ Meals and shit (I neglected to mention that I also feel I should get cool points for not calling it a Happy Meal), I didn’t say what was on my mind:

If you don’t get your nickel-95 ass in that kitchen and get my children whatever the fuck it is you call those already masticated and reconfigured poultry chunks, Imma dive on you, then tapdance over your fallen form wearing two Happy Meal boxes.

But I chilled. I don’t always like being a grown up.

B Jack

I’ve been up since 4:30 for no reason in particular.  i got up for my 4 am (ish) pee, and that was it.  Try as I might, I could not get back to sleep.  What sucks about this predicament is that I’m going to be totally exausted in about 45.  The gig has provided me (actually our office) with tickets to the Nats-Padres game tonight.  I have never gone to a baseball game.  I have never watched a baseball game.  Maybe because I’m from the South, and we believe that weekends were made for football, regardless of the season.  I’m thinking about staying for only half of the game, if I go at all.

Finge has his lanky body stretched out over my bed.  By all accounts, he should be a mama’s boy.  Granted, he thinks I’m pretty damned awesome, but he is so determined to be his own man.  Despite his massive size, he’s so kind and caring with smaller kids.  Honestly, you wouldn’t expect a kid his age to be cognizant of such a thing, but that’s Finge.  That kid is all aces.

Ladybug is already starting her day.  She’s a lot like her mother.  At first glance, you think she’s a total hell raiser (and she often is), but she is really sweet and sensitive.  Like me, she’s also very attuned to the moods of others, and will not hesitate to give you a hug or tell a joke so that it can put a smile on your face.

I must say that I wont the lottery in the kick ass kids department.  This weekend I’m taking them to the Jim Henson exhibit at the Smithsonian.  I thought they would be blase about it, but they went positively bananas; particularly Ladybug.

I’m starting to feel my eyelids getting heavy.  Unfortunately, it’s time for me to motivate.  So maybe I should try to remember this posting thing next time I’m up at some ungodly hour.