You Don’t Eat Chaaaaaannnneeeeessseeee Fooooood!

You Don’t Eat Chaaaaaannnneeeeessseeee Fooooood!

Yep… that’s how drunk I am right now. That upon discussing the delicious food (particularly the samosas) at the K-Lounge across the street that was Indian cuisine… and no one know what I was talking about (except for Li’l Vic…) I proclaimed to them all that “You don’t eat chhaaaaaa-neeeeeese-foooood”… What the fuck??? I KNEW I was talking about Indian food. Damn… I had tooo much Veuve Cliquot. Well… I am posting pics shortly and we had a BANGING night. Max and I were the Titty Twins in effect… and we got to be in a room with JayZ, Beyonce, Puffy and some other famous cats. It was tres cool. When I’m sober, I’ll post more… but for now…
None of y’all…

Eat chaaaaaanneeesssseee foooood!

(We look FABU, don’t we????)

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Glitterati

Glitterati

Okay… so I’m stressing out. Up until this point, I was fine and really, couldn’t care less about the event I’m attending tomorrow. Just looked at it as another one of those kinds of events that calls for me to attend on be half of work. But… I won’t really be working. I’ll be attending. And I don’t have to go… I had to RSVP for it. And it’s not just a work event… it’s

Right. And I’ll be there… looking like I’m there to clean the carpet. Or the bathroom. Why didn’t I prepare better? Because the last minute is my best friend. I bought this top at Ashley Stewart last weekend that I thought would be FIERCE for tomorrow. Yep. It’s the first kind I bought of it’s kind ever in my life. Backless. Halter. Yeaaaaahhhhh Vicky. Go girl! Mmmm hmmm…. wait. I have 40Ds hanging off my front. And they need assistance standing up. But… a backless halter bra? I dunno if they make those. “Girl… DUCT TAPE,” said the jamaican customer waiting for the fitting room. “Tape them up real good and you’ll be fine all night…” *blink, blink* I tried so hard not to gawk at her with utter disbelief at what she was saying. Instead I said, “Great idea, girl! I’ll try that,” as I walked to the cashier and purchased the top, along with a false sense of security that I’d have something for the gala. Then I got home and tried it and… said… NOOOO. Umma need a convertible bra. They have those right? Um… Not for 40 Ds. “We’ve discontinued that size,” the sales girl at Vicky’s said without even BATTING AN EYELASH that she just stabbed me… HARPOONED, rather… me in the heart. “Oh…” I replied defeated as she shoved a 38D into my hand and scurried me along to go try it on. After wrestling with it and the twins for 20 minutes (yes, ONE bra), I came out and said… okay… no after reading the $50 dollar price tag. It doesn’t even fit? Hell to the naw. So i bought one of those… tape it to your boobies things… not quiet duct tape, but maybe the same effect. So i tried it when I got home… and looked… horrible. Like a cow stuffed in a terra cotta red mumu. Dangit… Where did all this great esteem I’d been hoarding up go in a matter of one day? Not far… it’s there. Just hiding.

It’s one thing for me to be in jeans and a tee with a clip board in my hand helping these people backstage… hey… Jay-Z , they need you in the dressing room. Denzel, can you come and give a few words about how you feel about the radio station? Missy, smile for the camera real quick. Yeah… that’s work. It’s another thing if I have to hob knob with them. And I guess I’m just not feeling ready. Especially not at the event being thrown by the QUEEN of self proclaimed divas herself, Ms. Bay-ounce-say. Not to mention my escort will be 3 trillion times more fabulous than I because she always is. And I’ll spend the night looking like her body guard.

I didn’t even wash my hair. I just sat here and blogged. I’m doomed.

Going to try on some duct tape.

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The Sweetest Things

The Sweetest Things

I LIVE for these little moments. They are the ones that last in my mind forever and ever. And they usually cost no money… require no advance planning but have such a lasting impression that I take them with me into bad days to bring a little light. Lounging around on Sunday afternoon fixing my baby’s computer (which is how we got together, mind you… I’d offer to fix his computer so I could get closer to him and be in his space) i sent him off to shower so that I could do the same and we could hit the pavement. While he was showering, I laid on the couch and was watching Harry Potter. Or at least I thought I was watching Harry Potter. I must’ve dozed off at some point, feeling very restful and safe… and out of nowhere… a soft sensation touched my lips… and i inhaled sweet, clean, damp scent of his freshly showered skin. He’d gently planted one on me to wake me and I couldn’t stop smiling all day.

I think I haven’t stopped smiling yet…

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What Happened to my Weekends?

What Happened to my Weekends?

I used to depend on them to re-energize me and revive me for the perils that were to be the week to come. But now adays I come out of the weekend feeling more tired and just barely dragging my feet through the week ahead. It’s a shame, because I’m actually not allowing myself to enjoy the moment because I’m trying to RACE to the next weekend to get some sleep. I need some vitamins or SOMETHING.

Last night my baby and I got to his house and we went to sleep fairly early. (midnight, which is early for me). We woke up at 9… went back to sleep and woke up again at 11. Where we just lounged about for a few hours before milling about and getting ready for the outside world. When I got out of his car, I felt perfectly refreshed and relaxed. And now I sit here typing at my computer COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED. Like I need to take a nap or something. I just felt drained when I walked through the door to the apt. This isn’t right or normal. *sigh*

Off to exhaust myself some more.

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Not much man…

Not much man…

I’ve been kind of dream walking through my waking state. Had a bad dream the other night that I dislodged the center stone of my engagment ring… and no matter what I did, I couldn’t get it to be secure again. The prongs just wouldn’t hold on to the stone anymore; even after taking it to the store and getting them to repair it, it was still terribly fragile and I had to keep looking at it and keep checking it for fear of losing the stone out of my ring. I don’t know if it really takes a dream interpreter to figure out what all that means. My mind has just been running over time.

I don’t really have a whole lotta stuff to write about. Just been a little brain dead this week. Muse isn’t here… just went on vacation, I guess. So he’ll have to come back and start planting seeds in my mind before new thought starts to sprout.

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