Who Got Game?

So I'm in Friday's last weekend with a girlfriend of mine sipping on my second Mango Berry Mojito at the bar when I get a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and standing before me is a young man no older than about 22. He introduces himself to me and we strike up a pretty harmless conversation. He asks me questions, tells me a little about himself and it isn't until halfway though the conversation that I realize that he's trying to pick me up. I guess I assumed that he was just being friendly up until that point (silly me). Anyway, we talk a little longer and then he leaves to go take the order of a couple who just sat down (oh yeah, he was a waiter). My friend and I continue our convo and every once and a while he'd walk by and kind of give me the eye. By the time I finished my meal, he returns to the bar with a rose and says these exact words to me " I got you a rose because it symbolizes the beauty that I see in you, inside and out." Ok....so I know it SOUNDS corny but for some reason, it didn't come across as corny at all. It wasn't like he was trying too hard and he seemed sincere about the whole thing. I was actually in shock for a brief moment. It wasn't really the fact that he gave me the flower, it was his GAME. I'm sitting there thinking...don't tell me this young boy's got better game a man my age ?! I mean seriously, what's that about?

All I have to say to the men in the 25 and up crowd is 'step ya' game up.' These young dudes are making you look bad!

Therapy is for black people too!

Ok, so I'm back. I know it's seemed like FOREVER since I last posted anything but due to lack of inspiration, a crazy work/gym/drinking schedule, and overall laziness, I've completely neglected my blog.

Now that that's out of the way. I figured that I'd get back into the groove of things by blogging about something near and dear to my heart. No, not shopping, eating out, or drinking margaritas (although these are pretty far up in the list of things I absolutely love). I'm talking about therapy. YES, I said it, THERAPY. Now I know what you're thinking... "Damn, Teree is crazier than I thought." And although that could be true, it's really not THAT serious. I pretty much go to an office every week and sit in front of a man who listens as I talk about whatever is going on in my head at that particular moment. I won't get into what we talk about but I'm telling you, therapy isn't all that bad. It's nice to be able to talk to someone who is completely impartial. Now I know a lot of black folk think that I don't need therapy but JESUS. For some reason there's a stigma associated with Psychology. Even though I heart Jesus as much as the next girl, there's nothing like a little one on one with my therapist to get me moving in the right direction. I've only been going for a few months now and I already find myself being more cognizant of the things I do and say. That's not to say that I don't and won't pray. I just feel like every little bit helps and right now, my shrink is helping out quite a bit!

It feels good to be back. There's more to come. Stay tuned!

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you....

So, it's been about two months since my last post. Keeping up with a blog is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I haven't been feeling particularly inspired to write about anything, until yesterday on my way back from a meeting in the city. For some reason, as I made my way from the meeting, to Zara and H&M (for a quick midday shopping break),and back to work, I kept getting the "eye" from these old ass men. I don't know what it was about me yesterday. I definitely had gym hair and my outfit was just O.K. so why I was getting all this attention was beyond me. Not to mention the fact that not one man under the age of 40 even looked in my direction so it's not like I was walking around thinking I was cute. Anyway...as I dodged the googly eyes and smiles from men old enough to be my father, I started realizing that men over 40 have five very distinguishable characteristics that makes them easy to spot. So know, I present to you, 5 ways to tell if the man eyeing you down from across the room is over the age of 40 (long title, I know..):

1. He's wearing hoop earrings

2. His 'casual attire' consists of a button up (usually white) tucked into a pair of jeans and black or brown loafers

3. He's still rocking the '95 fade (see photo above)

4. He carries a man purse

5. His hair is super shiny, slicked back, or just looks 'juicy'

Question of the Day

What do you think about overweight aerobics instructors? I went to the gym last night and took a class and to my surprise, my instructor was overweight. Now, I usually don't discriminate against overweight people (they've just got more to love!) but shouldn't fitness instructors be....I don't know...fit?!
I mean, she did a good job, I suppose, but something about this whole situation rubs me the wrong way.

Soo...

I saw the nasty dude at the gym again last night. I have to start bringing my phone with me so that I can take a picture. This time, his shorts were purple (he must have been shopping because he usually only wears grey). They're still just as short and DEFINITELY still boxer briefs.

And another thing, how short do you have to be to be considered a midget? I was on the elevator just now and two short Asian ladies got on. Now I'm only 5'3" and these women were both at least 4 inches shorter than me. They didn't have the typical "little person" characteristics but they have to be classified as something as other than just "short." I'm short....but they're definitely pushing midget status!

Let me upgrade you....PLEASE!

So I'm on the train the other day and I see a man with the old school radio headphones on. They were bright yellow and HUGE. My first thought was "Why the hell does this man still own those?" and my second thought, "How the f*ck is he getting reception UNDERGROUND?. Maybe he's on some new shit I don't know about."
Then, on the same day, I see a woman with a WALKMAN. That's right, a WALKMAN..not a iPOD, Zune, or even DISCMAN, she was rocking the Walkman with cassettes! Now I know not everyone can afford an iPod or any other type of MP3 for that matter but how the hell does she even buy new tapes for it? What is she doing, listening to old Jodeci tapes circa 1992? I'm confused...

Perverts, Farts and a Motherf-ing Asshole

Today was pretty interesting. It started out as usual. I went to work and went to couple meetings, did some Internet shopping and chatted it up with my co-workers. It all started going downhill, at about 5:45pm. This is when I stepped foot in the gym. I usually take a Yoga class at 6pm at my gym and since I got there a couple minutes early, I figured I'd work out a little bit beforehand. This is when I noticed the Dirty Old Man that I try to avoid at all costs. This old man, who is at least 65, comes to the gym every day in his UNDERWEAR. Yes, you heard me right. This pervert comes to the damn gym in BOXER BRIEFS! I don't know if he thinks they're workout shorts or what but I know a pair of boxer briefs when I see them. The seaming in the crotch and ass, the lack of support in the nether region...they're DEFINITELY boxers. So anyway, DOM (Dirty Old Man...keep up)proceeds to sit at the lat pull machine, spread his legs open, and start working out. Now mind you, I'm sitting directly across from him and trying not to stare. But it's like anything else gross...you don't want to watch but somehow you can't look away. For about 2 minutes I sat there completely appalled and wondered if anyone else in the gym was witness to this atrocity. I even thought about reporting his dirty ass to the gym Management. Needless to say...the DOM has got to go!

So 6pm rolls around and I'm in Yoga. Things are going fine for the first 30 minutes or so when all of a sudden while we're doing our "sun salutations," the lady next to me lets one go. I'm standing there trying to relax when I smell this horrendous odor emanating from the skinny white lady next to me. For the next 5 minutes, I struggled to concentrate on my poses while intermittently putting my nose underneath the collar of my shirt so at least the only funk I smelled was my own. Smelled like something literally crawled up in her and died. The good thing is that the smell didn't last that long although I'll never look at that woman the same again and I'll make sure to put my mat as far away from her as possible the next time.

After the gym, I usually go to the grocery store (because of course I only buy enough groceries to last me 2-3 days at a time..I'm' smart like that ;)). Anyway, I'm in line when I remember that I forgot my rice (can't forget about the white rice...I'm 1/4 Chinese, it's in my blood!). Since the woman in front of me was still putting her things on the conveyor belt, I knew I had more than enough time to run and get the rice. Since the line was long, I had to leave my cart in the aisle directly behind the lane I was in in order to leave enough room for the other shoppers to get by. So I run and get my rice and when I get back, I notice that instead of it being the black lady in front of me as it was before I left, it was a white lady and her black companion. I immediately realized that this was the same wench that was in line in the lane next to mine. This heifer went ahead and got IN FRONT of me while I ran to get my damn rice! Completely pissed off, I proceeded to call the heifer out and here is how the next five minutes or so went:

Me: (making eye contact with the black guy) "Excuse me, did you just get in front of me?

Black Guy: *no response* He stands there and gives me this blank look and smiles which leads me to believe that A) he doesn't speak English or B) he isn't the sharpest crayon in the box.

So, I direct my attention to the while lady who at this point is standing in front of the credit card swipe thing at the front of the line

Me: "EXCUSE ME, I think you got in front of me"

*no response* Heifer wouldn't even turn around.

Me: (even louder this time and even more pissed off) "EXCUSE ME! YOU CUT ME IN LINE!"

Nothing...the wench refused to look me in the face. I'm thinking she was scared at this point but I didn't give a damn. I was PISSED.

So, I tried again, this time moving up to the conveyor belt...

Me: "YOU CUT ME IN LINE. YOU COULD AT LEAST APOLOGIZE"

And again, no response. The black dude keeps looking at me like he's on another freaking planet and my blood is boiling. I'm counting to ten, praying to God and taking deep breaths all at the same time as I tried to stay calm.

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I'm not loud & ghetto. I pride myself on not being the stereotypical "loud black woman" but in this situation, all of that shit went out of the window. As I was placing my things on the conveyor belt, I knew what was about to happen even before it did. Although I didn't want to, I had to say it...I waited..tried to calm down...and then it slipped out... "BITCH!"
For some reason, right after I said it, it made me feel a lot better. Even though she still didn't look me in the face, I know that wench heard me and that's all I needed.

What a damn night....