Good Times

I watch Good Times every night. Yes, that Good Times... JJ, Thelma, Wilona, James...

Right before I go the bed; I pull up an episode on my DVR. Ray gets mad about me recording them since I own all the seasons on DVD. Oh well, he'll get over it.

I've seen every episode 3.1478093372028373y1-18472828282828 times. I never get tired of that show. It literally warms my soul. Something about poor people living in the ghetto and never getting out; makes me feel all good and toasty inside. (Well, they do get out. But, that's the last episode.)

Ray coaxed me into participating in this fast with him. We can only eat fresh fruit and veggies. We can have egg whites and oatmeal for breakfast. I was game for that. However, he added in the stipulation of giving up radio and TV. NO TV!!!! Yikes, what did I get myself into?

I'm dying. Well, really I'm not. I can't believe that I'm missing (in no particular order:

Daddy's Girls, The Bachelor, American Idol, Intervention, Real World, The Real Housewives of OC, LOST...

Most importantly, I'm missing the Evans family.

No worries, I'll be back to TV Friday after 5.

I can't wait to turn that DVR on and catch up. More importantly, I can't wait to get in that bed, pull those covers down, get in, rub my feet together, and fall asleep (with my glasses on) to some soulful woman singing:

"Ain't we lucky we got em.... Good Times!!! Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyy".

My Daddy- a gift giver for kings

So, many of you have heard me talk about my Daddy. Well, if you haven't; you've missed some damn good stories. He's quite the character.

Well, let's just say that he didn't wear his dentures to my wedding; he brought a bag of bills and money orders for me to mail out for him to my wedding, and he's a real life hoarder. Like seriously. However, he is who he is. He loves me. I'm pretty certain of that and he would give me anything...

Well, he actually gives me anything and everything. I usually go see him every Sunday. It never fails, he always has a gift for me. I've decided to document these gifts, so that everyone can share in my fun.

Although I do poke fun and laugh, and many times/most times, trash the gifts; I do love the thought of them. They're from my Daddy.


So, here are pics from the recent gifts that I've received from him.


Exhibit #1- A huge life sized turquoise teddy bear


You can't really appreciate the beauty of the stuffed animal, b/c of the odd angle that I took the picture. However, there's an interesting story to accommodate this present. My father is a regular at a neighborhood hole in the wall. He goes almost every day to partake in drink or two or three or four. Anyhoo, for the past few years, he's decided to throw a Christmas Party for friends and family at this place. The club is literally the size of my family room. Anyway, he really prepares for this and spends crazy amounts of money on gifts for attendees, friends, and the bartenders and waitresses at this spot. This year, like all others, I arrive to spend my obligatory 30 minutes. I walk in and notice the bear and my father says, "Baby, that's yours." He says this with a huge smile as if it's a brand new Mini Cooper (which by the way I want. I'm so over my suv).
Long story short, as he walks me out to my car, he picks up the teddy bear. However, the bear is so huge and the club is so small, he knocks over some of the club patron's drinks...
Ugghhh. Oh by the way; did I mention that the bear is used? It's slightly dirty and has a slight brown tint covering it's old turquoise fur. It is currently sitting on my front porch waiting for it's overdue trip to the Salvation Army.



Exhibit #2: Sassy Gift:

The Sunday before last, he presented me a more practical gift than the used stuffed animal. This time it was "boots" and punch.

I should follow that statement by adding that the boots are silver and really not boots. There are big gaping holes in them, intentionally, and resemble something a stripper would wear. A cheap stripper. A cheap stripper with three missing teeth in Willis, Texas.

The punch was Tampico. I didn't even look at the flavor. I know just by the name that I don't like Tampico.





But I love my Daddy.

You must be crazy if you don't love my Daddy's gifts. More to come... This Sunday it was food based.

Transfer students

Do you remember transfer students? I do. I have a very negative and skewed connotation of these people. Remember, you'd be working in class, coloring with map pencils, and all of a sudden, a school administrator walks in your classroom with this foreign person. You learn that they are a transfer student; they have left their former school and have joined your school mid year.
I was so intrigued yet afraid of these people. I always felt that their transfer came with a story. Perhaps, they were kicked out of their old school, maybe they moved from Rhode Island, maybe their father left the family abruptly and their mom had to move to an apartment.
I apologize in advance for my misguided thoughts. I was quite structured and disciplined with school. I had Perfect Attendance all the way until 10th grade. I was the Teacher's Pet from Kinder - 6th grade. So, the thought of transferring is equivalent to forgery, money laundering, and or murder. You just don't do it.
How can one transfer? You have to start all over... What about your permanent record? You know... That record that our parents and school administrators spoke about... If you are a transfer it can be dirtied, filthy, filled with conflicting school dialogue, different color ink, and hand prints from different people shuffling it around.
Transfer students are like James Dean; they are rebels.
I found out my husband was a transfer student. it broke my heart. It took me a while to get over.

Toothpicks and the like

I asked my crew, my team of creative consultants, to come up with things that they never buy.
As my blog is internationally recognized, I'd like to share the celebrity with them.
Here are the top answers from the only people that cared enough to play my sick game.

Ray McKinney
1. Spanish Wavy weave (inside joke)
2.Pop Rocks
3. wave cap
4. medical scrubs
5.pleated slacks

Erika Swanson
1. meat
2. blush
3. Malt O Meal
4. magazine subscriptions
5. sunglasses cases

Myah Aquil
1. Ducatis
2. Horseshoes
3.Baby Wipes
4.screw cd's
5.scotch

Purple

Can anyone tell me why some Black women love the color purple? Wait, let me rephrase this.
I think, so that makes it true, that the most of the women that LOVE the color purple happen to be Black.

I know lots of Black women that love being draped in purple. Purple shirts, purple bras, purple shoes...

I met a woman in Marshall's last week. She was behind me in line. She was dressed in purple from head to toe. She had purple candlestick holders, bath towels, and candles in her basket. I said, "Wow, you like purple." She responded by saying, "You should see my brand new Charger. Dodge Charger. 2009. Brand New. Purple." (She was like 60)
I saw her in the parking lot and indeed she has a purple car. I liked her.

Hmmh, but back to my original question. Does anyone know?
Thanks for helping.

Toothpicks and the like

I don't ever buy toothpicks.
I don't ever buy artichokes.
I don't ever buy diapers.
I don't ever buy Mucelex.
I don't ever buy tofu.
I don't ever buy cigarettes.
I don't ever buy whole milk.
I don't ever buy Polident.
I don't ever buy Equal or NutraSweet.
I don't ever buy motor oil.
I don't ever buy pencils.
I don't ever buy Cool Water Cologne.
I don't ever buy zucchini.
I don't ever buy Life Cereal.
I don't ever buy knee pads.
I don't ever buy Goya Juice (Myah does).
I don't ever buy vacuum bags.
I don't ever buy spinach.
I don't ever buy douche.
I don't ever buy Schlitz Malt Liquor Bull.
I don't ever buy incense.
I don't ever buy jherri curl activator.
I don't ever buy fuchsia lipstick.
I don't ever buy dominoes.
I don't ever buy cleats.
I don't ever buy Tone soap.
I don't ever buy shoe strings.
I don't ever buy dentures.
I don't ever buy cats.
I don't ever buy pomegranate juice.
I don't ever buy grapefruits.
I don't ever buy flippers.
I don't ever buy Swim Ear.
I don't ever buy press on nails.
I don't ever buy Rave hair spray.
I don't ever buy Swisher Sweets.
I don't ever buy Black and Milds.
I don't ever buy typewriters.
I don't every buy Scan-Trons.
I don't every buy crack.
I don't every buy Crystal Meth.
I don't ever buy heroin.
I don't ever buy Mylanta.
I don't ever buy Boston Baked Beans.
I don't buy steering wheel covers.
I don't ever buy Cher albums, cd's, or tapes.

More to come.

Today I saw...

Today I went home during my lunch break to take a nap.
While driving down 610, I noticed a red 96 or 97 Mustang. The top was down, so it caught my attention. It's a beautiful day but a tad too chilly for the top to be down.
As I looked closer, I realized that a HUGE LONG ladder was resting across the passenger seat all the way back through the backseat.
I chuckled. It made me smile. There's something about seeing a long metal work ladder in a convertible.

As I was leaving my home to head back to work, I noticed someone on a bicycle pedaling really fast and furious. I realized that it was my neighbor/friend. He also had a backpack on his back. How often do you see a 40+ man riding a bicycle with a backpack and it's not for exercise or because he's a cycling enthusiast?
He made me smile.

I love smiling.

You want to go where everybody knows your name

If you do, then go to Randall's.
It's my all time favorite grocery store. Ever since I moved out on my own, Randall's has been my top choice. However, as we are in an economic recession and my husband thinks that Randall's is for Republicans, I don't shop there as much as I'd like.

I love that store. It's clean, warm. They are usually smaller and more intimate that that loud bustling cold Kroger's. It feels like a log cabin.

My, I like Randall's.

They always make sure they thank you with your name, if you use your Remarkable card.

It's one of the few grocery stores that have non minorities as checkers. The competitors would have you believe that minorities have a monopoly on checking jobs. Not at Randall's. They are an equal opportunity employer.

It's just cozy. Right. Cozy and Right. It's the way grocery shopping should be. Cozy and in a log cabin.

Hooray for Randall's!

These are phrases, collaquialisms, and sayings that I've always wanted to say and use

Author's Note:

These are phrases that I have not used due to:

-fear that the phrase belongs to a race that is not my own. (It is true. Races can actually own a phrase.)

-uncertainty of the actual phrase or if I've misphrased it in my brain

-fear of being a pretender (I hate sounding unnatural)

-backlash from my husband and/or BFF Myah (They give me grief about my dialect all the time. I used "fat-fingered" once and I'm still getting crap about that one.)

Author's Note: Part Deux:

This is a partial list.

THE LIST:

That's all kinds of wrong.

He/She/IT/That is a hot mess.

I'm strictly *****

I beg your pardon.

Comme Si, Comme Ca

I am woman, hear me roar

Gag me with a spoon.

I'll be back (In Terminator voice)

I'll have what she's having.

You've got some nerve.

Heads are going to roll.

I was _ sheets to the wind. (i've never figured that one out. help)

IN YOUR FACE!

She looks pretty long in the tooth.

Over my dead body.

How you doing? (In joey's voice from Friends. I think...)

Ayyy Papi.

Return to Sender

I have a funny story to share...
After you hear this, you will agree that this person is crazy and I'm not.

So, I had a friend. Let's call this friend Wilamena. So, Wilamena and I were good High School Friends. We had similar personalities in High School and had a WONDERFUL friendship. Somewhere between our senior year of High School and freshmen year of college, Wilamena and I stopped talking. Not sure why. Probably the typical 18 year old friendship ending stuff.
Well, we restarted our friendship again, sometime during sophmore year of college and were fine for many years.
There was just one problem. I HATED the friendship. The friend was fine, (I guess), the friendship wasn't. It was very unhealthy, filled with ignorant secrets, idiotic conversations, and just plain stupidity. (Try and figure out what all that means) :-)

Anyway, fast forward a few years later. The same ignorance is still going on. However, it's only one sided. Well, maybe it's two sided because I am still listening to it. However, as our age has increased, the ignorance has increased. This person is just involved with stuff that's just plain WRONG. I want to break up with Wilamena. badly. I just have no idea how. Especially, after she tells me a HUGE secret.

Anyway, long story short, Wilamena and I finally end. Not on my terms, but I am okay with it. Actually relieved. Blessed is probably a more fitting term.

Holidays 2008. I'm mailing Christmas cards. I am using the list that I used for my wedding invitations as it is the most comprehensive and up to date list that I have. As I'm addressing the envelopes, I include Wilamena and her family. Ooops. I'm faced with a dilemma. Do, I toss the envelope or just mail it out? Well, it's Christmas and I'm a Christian, afterall. :-) I am going to mail the card. It's the holidays, right? I've already written their name on the card. Oh Well.

I arrive home this weekend and sorting through mail. I notice an envelope that looks like our Christmas card. I assume it's from one of our friends' that have moved. I look a bit more and notice a BIG "RTS" written on the front in Wilamena's handwriting. (She has very distinctive handwriting, pretty... ) So, I pick up the envelope and smile. I think, Oh well, I guess she didn't want my card. FUNNY... In a sad, I really wasn't trying to befriend you kind of way... I was on my way to drop it in the trash, when it fell and I noticed additional writing on the back.
The writing on the back said something close to, "WE DON'T WANT THIS expletive AT OUR HOUSE."

She must be crazy. Who does that? It's one thing to feel like she hates me (for some unknown strange reason). It's another to even RTS. It's a whole nother CRAZY thing to write profanity on the card. I thought the USPS was like federal or something. I didn't think they allowed that sort of thing to get through.

Well, RTS/Return to Sender is my new fave slang. If Myah asks me about a TV show that I don't watch, I just reply with RTS.

Yep, she's crazy. Wilamena that is, because I aint.

I have a HUGE chip on my shoulder.

This will be very short, simple, and to the point.

I love Mexican food. Wait, I love Tex-Mex. Hold on, I LOVE Tex-Mex. There's nothing I love more than my chips and salsa.

You want to know what I don't like? I don't like when people that you're dining with automatically decide that the chips need additonal salt added, without even tasting first.

Okay, if you taste the chips and honeslty believe that they need a bit more salt; I'm fine with you adding salt. I just hate it when people do it automatically, like it's the way you eat chips and salsa. Don't just take your grubby little hands and toss that salt all over the chips.

Oh, and by the way, I've never tasted chips that needed extra salt.

Oh, and another thing, I dont think those chubby little hands need more salt in their system.

You just be crazy if you think I want all that damn salt on my chips.