Weekend Musings February 27, 2006

This weekend I took a surprise trip to Richmond for Joseph’s 23rd birthday. He knew I was coming due to a tarrot card reading earlier last week, but we still managed to have a pretty rauchus night. I visited Lady L as well, in DC. After such a fun-filled weekend I have come to the following conclusions:

1. My friends are the loves of my life. I always knew this, but when Bobby came in and found joseph, laura, and me (along with 2 of jojo’s other friends) laying on the floor, laughing over nothing at 2AM he said: I wish I had friends like you guys! How do I find more of you?

I’m lucky, that’s how. God knows I don’t deserve them. My friends are probably the best people in the world, partially because they love me so much and don’t try to change me.

2. I like bus rides. It’s very relaxing and I like not worrying about driving or getting gas. It’s a good time to catch up on music and introspection.

3. Richmond isn’t my home, but it is the place where I grew up. My parents fought hard to keep me sheltered in Jamaica and I only lived in CT for a year. In four year, Richmond nurtured, taunted and allowed me to grow into the person I am now. It’s always going to be a special place for me.

4. I really can eat an entire UKrop’s cake in one sitting if you give me a spoon…yikes…

5. There’s no time to waste on people who don’t return my energy. That goes for boys I like, friends, and employers. I don’t want to play games anymore, but I do want mutual respect and frequent communication. If you can’t give me that, then I’m not going to beg for it by calling/emailing/texting first.

6. “There are prostitutes and then there are dumb sluts”

Jamaican Baby February 23, 2006

I watch TLC in the afternoons to convince myself I’m better off without child. New mommies talk about lack of sleep and lost sense of humors, but I am not detered. Itchy labia’s dont scare me. Niether do stretch marks.

Watching the premies and the poor little babies born with birth defects makes me cry, but I still want to try. I want a baby!

Here’s the thing — THE thing — I want to have my baby in Jamaica. I want my baby to grow up where I grew up, and have the life I had. This is why I need to marry a Jamaican boy because American boys are very unlikely to move to Jamaica to please me. Especially if we meet in the US.

Thus, nothing I do in America is something I take seriously. No job is ever too good for me to leave. I’m just playing in the America, biding time, having fun, until I move back to Jamaica.

Now for the problem: MY PARENTS. They refuse to let me live in Jamaica. In fact, most of my family and my friends are against me moving back, but I want to. For my baby and myself. Doesn’t that count for anything?

The Sorority Life I Never Had February 21, 2006

While reading the ’spiders diary’ section on my old school’s website (www.richmond.edu), a thought dawned on me: I don’t think I partied enough in college. [horror of horrors!]

Freshman year was a drunken blast, as was senior year, but the 2 middle years were less than college-quality. I wasted a lot of time being homesick and doing graduate level classes. (A lot of good that did me)! If it wasn’t for Daddy Carlos (my friend, not my pimp), I would’ve gone half crazy.

My mistake: I should’ve joined a sorority. Really, I’m not kidding. Though I don’t seem like the ’sorority type’ I think I would’ve made an awesome Theta. Not rushing freshman (and sophomore) year, had huge implications on my personal and professional life, as detailed below:

1. Were I a sorority girl, I would’ve had a job coming out of college. If nobody else hires you, the sorority itself will give you a job until they find you a husband from their brother fraternity. (In my case, Sigma Chi, which would seriously rock my world).

2. Think of all the socials and all the naked drinking games I missed!

3. I’d never need to worry about making friends. When you pay semesterly dues, the friends come with the package.

4. If I had a car in college (other than Joseph’s car which I refered to as ‘my car’ senior year), I could’ve covered it in cute sorority knick-knacks like stickers and hanging, fuzzy things.

5. I’d know a secret dance and hand shake. (How many times could I get away with singing ‘Sweet Home Delta Gamma’ because my freshman year roommate was a DG?)

6. If someone called me Mandy, I’d deal. Especially in the sentence: Mandy have you met so-and-so? he’s a Sigma Chi…

7. Although I prefer black pearls over white, and Betsy Johnson over Lilly Pulitzer, I could totally deal with being drunk by 9AM on a Saturday morning. (Been there, done that, right Jojo?)

8. I look stunning in black and gold — Egyptian if I go heavy on the black eye liner.

Now I’m plauged with the song ‘I wish I could go back to college’ by the revolutionary, puppet-sex performing cast of Avenue Q…..

My advice for the in-coming freshmen: Drink more, sleep less, and don’t waste time with long distance boyfriends!!! And of course, pledge Alpha Kappa Theata and live the life I never had.

Thank You Bill Gates! February 21, 2006

I’m really bad at spelling.

In grade 2 I was caught cheating on a spelling test and made to stand on my desk with my hands on my head while my classmates completed their tests. Mrs. Lindo called my mother and she gave me a stern talking to with her leather belt. (As is custom in the islands). When I took the make-up test I got a 98% minus the ten points that were docked in the name of my cheating ways.

The moral of the story: Getting caught is a bitch.

Luckily, Bill Gates came to my rescue with the spell check function. Otherwise, who knows what kind of debaucherous, irreverant life of crime I may have lead. (Ok so my life is pretty debaucherous and irreverant, but at least I’ve never been arrested!)

(…not to say that I haven’t come close…)

Anyhow, thank you Bill Gates, from my mother to yours. Here’s to the man that made cheating on spelling legal!

now if only there was a microsoft word function for dating…

IT Happened February 21, 2006

IT happened.

On Friday I went to the gym (of course), and after working out for a reduced time (about an hour), I went into the locker room to wash my hands. To my left was a woman in a suit that always seemed to be washing her hands at the same time as me. Over these past few weeks we developed some frivolous bathroom banter, and today was no different.

“I’m so glad its Friday” the lady in the suit beamed.
“Friday is only any good if you have a job.” I joked back.
A minute later as I was gathering my carouches, suit lady came over to me. “Excuse me, are you looking for a job?”

Today I walked into her office at 3PM and walked out with an offer for a second interview. Damn, I love NY. This particular job comes with a full benefits package, a FREE gym membership, and a base salary plus commission. HUGE! This is amazing.

As it stands right now, I am the luckiest Mer-Fer on the planet!!!

Stupid Girl Stuff February 19, 2006

If it’s possible to miss somebody without wanting them back in your life, that’s what I’m going through now.

I ended up going to Krishna’s last night, all the way down on Ludlow Street. It was cold and I got in the cab alone. It reminded of cab rides to his house late at night. The club was packed with sleezey men that would be suitable for any girl except me. They aren’t really sleezey, but that’s what I call them because they’re at a club and they use it as an excuse to feel me up on the dance floor. Ick.

There was an irish guy who showed me how to latin dance his way. he was great, but i thought about nate, on my birthday at Son Cubano. We used to latin dance and it was the time of my life. I danced with Indian guys that were shorter than me or simply interested in other girls. One such lovely Indian girl grabbed me and told me to take her to the white boys across the room. when i did she left me in a triangle of ex-frat freaks who belted commands: show me whatcha’ got sexy! I walked away. (that’s what I got prick!)

All night random boys I didn’t know pulled me in for a dance and repeatedly kissed me on my cheeks. All I heard was: you’re so pretty, you’re so beautiful. Even though I’ve taken to drinking straight vodka with lemon and a dash of soda water, my tolerance is too high to be drunk on just one. (What an improvement from a year ago when an amaretto sour would turn me into toast). As a result, they succeeded only in annoying me.

Again, even though I hate him, know that I never want him back, etcetera, etcetera, i miss him and the fun we used to have. that’s allowed right? to miss him and not want to do anything about it?

New York with Nate and New York witout Nate are two very different places. The former being much prefered over the latter, I’m afraid.

Boys I Will Not Date February 19, 2006

A list of boys I will NOT date:

NON-JAMICAN BOYS WHO:

1. Make less than $75,000 a year.
2. Are white (frat boys/grungies)
3. Are black (players OR have black gf’s who want to kill me)
4. Are Indian (will not marry me no matter how much red i wear)
5. Are shorter than 6ft or taller than 6′2
7. Are younger than 26 or older than 28
8. Aethiests/agnostics/presbeterians/baptists/mormons/jehova’s witnesses
9. Grinds on me/tries to feel me up on a dance floor
10. REPUBLICANS (fucking republicans!)
11. wieghs less than 180lbs or more than 220lbs
12. Have bad teeth (bad teeth mean they never had braces–unacceptable)
13. Very hairy
14. Don’t buy me drinks. (if he won’t buy me a drink then what happens when my kids need to go to boarding school?)
15. Talks to my boobs

JAMAICAN BOYS WHO:

1. Are married. (that’s it. anything else is acceptable. and for some married men i will make exceptions).

Triangle February 19, 2006

My two older cousins are my best friends. This is an absolute blessing and an uncertain curse.

In first grade I bought marbles from a gullyman behind our classroom on the playground. They were swirls of blue, green and yellows. I felt daring because it was illegal. When I showed Stephanie she grabbed them out of my tiny three-year old palm and threw them over the fence. “Amanda don’t touch those, they have drugs on them! Are you crazy?”

Stephanie, more than Kristin, feels like its her duty in life to protect me from everything, especially myself. Kristin prefers to watch me, out of curiosity, to see what’ll happen when I do what I do. She undoubtedly thinks I’m crazy, but she won’t outright try to stop me, like Stephanie does. She’s a sympatheizer — half shocked and half jealous of my guts.

It’s an interesting power triangle. Kristin, the eldest, has the ultimate say on everything. Like a parent. Stephanie threatens to ‘tell Kristin’ when I do something she’d rather me not do. I call Kristin and tell her to talk to Stephanie. Kristin (for some unknown reason) listens to me. I have some influence over her and she quiets Stephanie. Stephanie sulks and screams at me. I do what she wants.

Tonight Stephanie freaked out over an artistic decision I made last week. She called Kristin and told her she was going to call my grandparents, parents, and entire family and tell them to bring me home and punish me. (As you can tell, our relationship never progressed past first grade). Kristin convinced her not to call anyone. She called me instead and I convinced her everything was alright. But when Stephanie called me, you better believe my hand was over the delete button, throwing those drug-marbles over the fence. “Amanda you are crazy!”

Yes. I am crazy. They know this already. Stephanie says it but knows it won’t mean a thing to me.

But in the end they are a blessing, because only people that really love me yell at me like that. Tell me what to do the way they do. Threaten my life and make it all better in the same telephone conversation, across oceans and land. Everyone should be so lucky.

I M PA-thetic February 18, 2006

I know it’s Saturday night and Krishna’s having a huge 21st birthday party downtown. I know I RSVPed and he’ll know if I don’t come. I know. I know there’s an open bar on the third floor with my name all over it. But oy, I just don’t want to leave my apartment tonight.

Last night I stayed home and watched ‘Wedding Crashers’ on demand tv. Alone. Blah. I ate more than half of an angel food cake among other various, snacky, high calorie treats. Turned down post-party sex via cell phone. Fell asleep with CMT crooning sad songs in the background. I know I’m pathetic.

Even more pathetic for wanting to do the same thing again tonight. Boy Durron is right: I can be a real loser sometimes.

I know something else too. If I curled up with a bowl of dark chocolate and the bottle of pink champagne chilling in the fridge, and ended up spending a night with my *jeremy* and Kenny Chesney music videos, I’d be the happiest little Jamaican girl in this part of Manhattan.

Aren’t Plans Dandy? February 17, 2006

When I get a 9-5, five day a week, non-artistic, ordinary hum-drum job, I will:

1. thread my entire face: eyebrows, mustache, and whatever else I can’t reach with my tweezers.

2. join/start a book club

3. get a library card so I don’t go broke over my book club

4. Learn how to cook something other than chicken with fancy sauce

5. take weekend trips to DC, Richmond, Miami and wherever else I deem worthy

6. date….(HAHAHAHA-good one, eh?)

7. save my money for India

8. Only go out drinking once a week

9. Make more friends

10. Forget about the fau-bohemian lifestyle I once pursued relentlessly.

11. Drink more tea, eat less in general

12. Renew my membership at Portofino Tanning Salon

13. Smoke…something…

14. Return to my Jamaican lifestyle of once a week mani/pedi’s