28 Friday Oct 2011
Posted in mom-isms
Tags
At 7:36 am, I received this picture from my sister.
Along with the caption: “How you gonna let your mother walk out the house like this?! A shame and 4 disgraces.”
It’s amazing that Kira and I know how to dress ourselves properly since this is the stock we come from.
Praise God that the apple did not fall far, but was freakin’ hurled from the tree.
27 Thursday Oct 2011
Posted in Emmalyn
Tags
A prime example of this is the conversation I had with my sister yesterday. While she and I were trying to talk, I heard my niece in the background shouting “Mommy car! Mommy car!”
Me: What is she doing?
Kira: She standing by the window looking outside.
Me: Is there a car driving by?
Kira: No, she’s looking at my car. It’s very exciting to her.
Me: So the car is just sitting in the driveway?
Kira: Yeah, but I’d rather have her shouting than throwing up. She’s had a bad cough that’s been making her throw up.
Me: Ew.
Kira: There was vomit everywhere yesterday. She threw up on the carpet, on the changing table, finally I just put her in the bathtub to make the clean up easier.
Me: That’s really gross.
Kira: Wait, what is she-
(I hear shuffling on the line)
Kira: Emmalyn, if you don’t get down off the table you’re going to get a spank.
Emmalyn: No, thank you.
At least she’s polite when she’s being blatantly defiant.
26 Wednesday Oct 2011
Posted in daily madness, tomfoolery
Tags
Christianity, Contemporary worship music, Francis Chan, God, Hillsong, Hillsong United, Prayer, Religion & Spirituality, Worship
I must really want that slingshot to Hell.
Image via Wikipedia
What I did on Monday proves how much I want the slingshot.
Not only will I be riding the slingshot, but mine is going to have chrome.
So here’s the story:
For the last three weeks my Sunday school class has been reading a book by Linda Dillow on worship. When Lil’ Dillow talks about worship, she doesn’t mean singing in church on a Sunday and pointing out the mistakes in the powerpoint, but something deeper than that. Lil’ Dillow (I have no idea why I’m calling her that) kind of wants you to pray without ceasing. She wants you to make worship a part of your daily life rather than confining it to one day a week or placing such a limited definition on it. Inspired by L Boogie Dizzle (seriously, I have no clue why I’m giving her hood names), I decided to try making worship a part of my Monday morning commute.
On Monday mornings, I drive an hour to FAU. Usually, I just listen to music, but because I wanted to incorporate worship into my daily life, I made a playlist of praise and worship music and downloaded a sermon from Francis Chan.
Looking back on it I think I took what L Doggie Fizzle said too literally.
I basically set up church in Syd the Hybrid.
I was one step away from staining my tinted windows.
Now, it looks like I planned everything quite well, right? Nay, my friend. I say, nay. I left out the communion wine. I did not take into account my epic and irrational road rage. My road rage is not your typical frustrated outburst.
My road rage is like a duraflame log burning long and well into the recesses of my soul.
So, dear reader, imagine, if you will, this scene on Monday morning…
Me: (singing in the car) There is no one else for me! None but Jesus! Crucifi– WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! MERGE! MERGE! I AM GIVING YOU THE SPOT! Where was I? Oh yeah…all my delight is in you, Lord! All of my ho- YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!? YIELD DOES NOT MEAN SLAM ON YOUR BRAKES! IDIOT! Wait, sorry Jesus. Ok, I’m praising, I’m worshipping, I’m singing… Did you feel the mountains tremble? Did you hear the oceans ro-AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! SIGNAL! SIGNAL! SIGNAL BEFORE YOU CHANGE LANES! And we can see that God you’re mo- MORON! A mighty river through the nations! And young and old will turn to Jesus! I am going to fling you into an abyss of everlasting pain if you don’t SPEED UP! YOU’RE HOLDING UP TRAFFIC!!!!!!!
You see, that’s why my slingshot is outfitted in chrome.
However, this post could have done it too.
Lord, forgive me.
24 Monday Oct 2011
Posted in Birthday~apalooza, Friends, mom-isms
This is why we don’t normally take Chi-chi out in public.
For some reason, she does not know how to interact with waiters.
In NY, we had two restaurants we went to because those were the only two on Long Island that had wait staff that was capable of tolerating Chi-chi.
However, for my cousin Rachel’s birthday, we were forced to let Chi-chi out into the world.
Rachel decided that for her birthday dinner, she wanted to go to Off the Grill, a Mexican restaurant with empanadas to die for. They give you queso on the side as a dipping sauce. I was completely smitten kitten for Off the Grill when I discovered that. Not only do they provide you with queso, but the salsa is so good it’ll make you want to smack your great-grandpappy.
Yeah, I’m definitely becoming a Southerner.
My family runs on CPT, so Rachel and her family were already at the restaurant and sharing a community margarita by the time we got there. Before I completely launch into Chi-chi’s conduct at the restaurant, let me explain the community margarita. At Off the Grill, they figure that a margarita should be so big it could get a horse drunk. When you order one, make sure you have 3-4 friends with you, ready to partake, and then another friend ready to drive you all home.
I was perfectly content to share the community margarita because I get drunk when I look at tequila, but He-man and Chi-chi weren’t nearly so keen on our “sip and pass” system. He-man is picky when it comes to liquor and will only drink Cuervo. Chi-chi likes her margarita with salt on the rim of the glass. They each ordered their own margarita and the rest of us continued to sip and pass.
While they were waiting for their margaritas, Chi-chi picked up a tortilla chip and exclaimed, loud enough for our waitress to hear, “Is this a joke?!”
Granted, the tortilla was the size of a hubcap, but I thought she was being a tad dramatic.
Rachel gets that from her.
Since the salsa was so good, Chi-chi was pacified and actually delighted in the large chips because it allowed her to coat her chips in salsa and guacamole like they were toast. She had a whole system going. It was really interesting to watch.
About five minutes after this outburst, a waiter walks over with her and He-man’s drinks. When I was say “walk”, I mean “shuffled and prayed.” The drinks were filled the rim of the glass and they were heavy. The poor man was trying his hardest not to spill one drop of Chi-chi’s margarita. He made it to the table with all of the glasses’ contents intact, and slowly, oh so slowly, he leaned over to put the glasses on the table. He was holding He-man’s drink in his left hand and Chi-chi’s drink in his right. This order corresponded to the sides of the table my parents were sitting.
Chi-chi decided to “help” the man by raising her hand and saying, “Oh the cuervo…”
Which caused the man to steer his left hand towards her…
“…is his.”
Chi-chi then pointed her raised hand at He-man.
It’s amazing how quickly hope can vanish out of someone’s eyes…
To make matters even worse, Chi-chi took two sips of her margarita, made a face, and then motioned to our waitress. The waitress came over and said, “Yes?”
Chi-chi pointed to the glass with a look of confusion on her face and replied, “Um, salt?”
You must take into account that she said this as though they had put a glass of monkey brains in front of her.
“Um, monkey brains?”
And she kept repeating it.
“Salt? Salt? Um, salt?”
“They didn’t put salt on the rim?” the waitress asked.
“Salt? No. No salt?”
“I can get you a new one.”
“With salt? Will you have to make a fresh drink?”
“No, we have a system.”
“How?”
At this point, the waitress walked away from my mother.
I couldn’t blame her.
20 Thursday Oct 2011
Posted in tomfoolery
Tags
I discovered the morning that despite my greatest effort, I have become a Southerner.
However, I draw the line at ingesting sweet tea.
That stuff is diabetes in a glass.
For the last couple of months, it’s been hotter than Hades in Florida. The girls around FAU have been in various stages of undress to combat the heat. The boys at FAU have been watching the girls in various stages of undress and praising God for the heat.
I have been silently judging them all.
This morning when I woke up and dressed for the weather; a light skirt, a light shirt, and comfy, sweat resistant shoes. Chi-chi was in the kitchen with Dinah, watching the weather report. I was making eggs, minding my business when Chi-chi said, “Oh shoot! It’s only sixty-four degrees!”
“What? No! It was eighty-something yesterday. Let me check.”
I left my eggs with Chi-chi, went to the front door, and opened it.
When the wind hit me I thought, ‘My, my it’s cold.’
What I said was, “AHHHHLAWD!!!”
For those of you who don’t speak either patois or Trinidadinese, “AHHHHLAWD!!!” roughly translates to “Brrrr. It is a rather cold morning.”
This is how I know I’m becoming a Southerner: my Jamaican side (whom I call ‘Edith’) is coming out.
Jamaicans are cold when it’s 64 degrees outside. Jamaicans are cold when it’s 75 degrees outside. The sun will be blazing and a Jamaican will say, “Allyah close de winda nah!” Actually, that pretty much rings true for all island folk.
We chill easily.
Some say it’s the ganja, but we’re really just a thin blooded people.
18 Tuesday Oct 2011
Posted in daily madness
Tags
I’ve been meaning to post this for about a week, but grad has been treating like it’s quadroon slave, so my writing time has been limited.
I have two papers due next week.
I have a presentation tomorrow.
I stepped in a questionable puddle yesterday, and now my shoe smells funny.
I really hope it was water.
Anyway, if you haven’t read Part One of this post, you should do that now.
…
…
…
…
Are you caught up?
Good.
So after all the events of Peanut butter tastes even worse in reverse, I held my stomach in my hand and made my way home. Upon my arrival at Casa de He-man y Chi-chi, I discovered that He-man was having the driveway paved. Or rather, he was having one created. For the last five years we’ve been parking on dirt.
There were workers a go-go and cement a day glow in my parking spot. This meant that I had to park on the street. Now, when I say street, I mean “dirt road that horses constantly use as their latrine.” We live in the acreage so there’s dirt and sand everywhere. When you go outside, be prepared to be covered in grit.
In addition to the grit, we have a huge canal outside our house. Everyone in Florida has a canal outside their house. I’m not sure why, but maybe it’s because “canal” is such a fun word.
The canal outside our house is about 3 feet wide, give or take. When I parked my car on the horse latrine, I figured I would walk as close as I could to the edge of the canal, hop it, and then go on my merry way to the house. I grabbed up my bag, put my stomach in the plastic bowl Jenny had given me to hurl in, and walked down the slope to the canal.
The only problem was that the guy who mows our lawn is a tiny Mexican who doesn’t like the canal; therefore, he does not mow the grass around that area. (I think he fears snakes and water fowl as much as I.) When I reached the canal, I realized that I could not tell where it began and where it ended. I tapped my foot along what I thought was the edge to feel for moisture and when I found a wet spot, I leapt.
I came down quite easily on the other side.
Well, part of me did.
The other half was covered in muck, mire, and something that I really hope was a decaying leaf.
I tried to wipe myself off in the grass, but I only found more muck, mire, and a substance that I really hope was old cardboard.
Thankfully, the day didn’t get any worse.
17 Monday Oct 2011
Posted in a year off
The difference is quite simple and rather stereotypical. At my birthday tea party, a few of my white friends drove from Naples to visit me. The party was supposed to start at 12:30. At 12:35 my friends were racing towards my front exclaiming, “We’re so sorry! We stopped and Howley’s and didn’t leave enough time to get here!”
To which I replied, “Um…ok. It’s only 12:35”
At 1:00 my family strolls through the door like, “Hey! How’s it going?”
Way to live up to the stereotype, family.
14 Friday Oct 2011
Posted in awesome/awful conversations, Friends
“How rude!”
“What?”
“This guy I haven’t talked to in months just messaged me to check out his band. No greetings. No ‘hi, how are you? how’s life?'”
“Ugh, how rude.”
“I know!”
This was a conversation I had with my friend, Amy, a few days ago. Much like teen pregnancy and hippies moving next door, you never think a drive by friend request will happen to you.
Until it does.
And then you just feel used.
When I logged onto Facebook on Monday, I noticed I had a friend request from someone we’ll call Handsome Rob. His name isn’t Rob, but he is handsome. At first, I didn’t know who Handsome Rob was. I thought, ‘who the heck is this? what does he mean I know him from PBA? Stalker!’ I was just about to delete the request when I took a good look at Handsome Rob’s picture and realized that I did in fact know him from PBA.
“Oh! Handsome Rob! Ok! Let’s be friends!”
I clicked ‘confirm’.
Then I checked out Handsome Rob’s page.
Handsome Rob certainly had a lot of friends.
Why, you ask?
Because Handsome Rob is launching his music career.
“Wait a minute-did he? Oh curse you! Curse you Handsome Rob! I unfriend you in the name of…I can’t come up with anything right now, but curse you!”
Twenty minutes later…
“Oh shoot, I just got drive by friend requested.”
Did I mention that I’m quite slow on the up take?
14 Friday Oct 2011
She can see into the future.
Or she just has common sense.
Which I lack.
About two weeks ago, Chi-chi and I were talking in the kitchen about Emmalyn. Chi-chi said, “You really need to watch what you say around your niece. She’s picking up words really quickly.”
“I don’t say inappropriate things around her.”
“You may not think what you say is inappropriate, but she’ll repeat it at an inappropriate moment.”
“Well, I call her ‘stinky’ or ‘monkey’ sometimes, but those are pet names. Like how Auntie Rachel calls me ‘doo doo’….why does Auntie Rachel call me ‘doo doo’?”
“It’s a pet name.”
Flash forward to this morning; I’m talking to my sister on the phone. Kira is in one of her “I told you so” fits and she’s ranting and raving against a co-worker she knew was no good.
“He quit just like that! All I had to do was think about firing him and he quit! Gyasi, it was almost too easy! I mean, now the boy has no job, no ambition, no plans, and two baby mamas! I don’t know what these people see in him! He’s a dirtbag! A complete dirtbag!”
In the background I heard an almost two-year-old voice say, “Dirtbag.”
When I told Chi-chi she went on one of her “I told you so” laughing fits.
“I told you so” fits run in the family.
12 Wednesday Oct 2011
Posted in tomfoolery
Image via Wikipedia
So, I’ll probably be uninvited from my friend, Kimi’s wedding for this one.
It’s a shame because I really like her.
Kimi is getting married on October 29th and last Saturday her friends threw a bridal shower. I went with my cousin, aunt, and my friend, Jenny. It was a tea party with beautiful decorations, tea pots that I coveted beyond all reason, and taco cheesecake.
Don’t ask what taco cheesecake is exactly. All you need to know is that it is a pie of awesome. There’s sour cream and jalapeno involved. I nearly wept with joy.
It also reminded me of Chi-chi’s assertion that we should have served chips and guacamole at my tea party, but I digress.
Anyway, Kimi’s friends planned out a few games to keep us entertained. Although I’m a fatty and was perfectly entertained by the food, they had the good sense to plan activities. One of those activities involved toilet paper. Each table was given a pack, told to pick a model, and then construct a wedding dress out of toilet paper. It went really well, we had a barrel of laughs, and then Kimi picked a winner.
Now, I won’t say that her NOT picking me had anything to do with what happened next.
IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH WHAT HAPPENED NEXT.
I’m just stupid and don’t think things through.
Kimi’s friends asked us to help them clean up the toilet paper, so we hopped to. Jenny and I started gathering up rolls and remnants of toilet paper, and putting them in the trash. I picked up a couple of rolls and placed them on the table.
I did not realize that I placed them on top of a votive candle.
When I realized that the table was on fire, I should have yelled, “FIYAH!!!!”
What I did was ask, “Jenny, is that on fire?”
Thankfully, Jenny has more common sense and she quickly grabbed the toilet paper and tried to put it out. I came to my senses after a few seconds. To help her I decided to blow on the toilet paper.
Now, all of you know how to start a fire right?
Kindling + heat + air = flame
Apply that to our situation and you get: toilet paper + votive candle + idiot blowing onto the toilet paper = flame.
How in the heck did I get into grad school?
Another woman noticed our plight, grabbed the toilet paper out of our hands, and stifled the flames. God bless her. I know I’m probably gonna be on his bad side for a few days because Kimi’s bridal shower was held in a church.
I almost burned down a church.
I’m pretty sure that’s gonna earn me a slingshot to Hell.
