Happy New Year All

2009 has officially come to an end. Although this has been a rather meh year for me, I have managed to scrounge up a few interesting recaps I'd like to share with all of you. I can't say that this year was "bad" or "good." It just was and personally I think that's exactly what I needed. I learned a lot, and I got to use a lot from what I've learned in 2008. As you can see, I didn't go anywhere to celebrate (I take it church doesn't count, lol). I'm just chilling here with my man-friend and waiting for the ball to drop on Farmville, lol. But I can't think of a better way to spend my New Year. Anywho, I don't have too much time before the ball drops, so here goes my little recap . . .

I moved twice (and also helped someone else to move)

I gave away 2 sets of furniture, bought someone a car and lent out more money than I ever remember lending in my life.

I bumped heads and clashed with my boss big time.

I blogged on a regular basis and actually picked up a few followers (how bout that for a change?! :-)

I experienced the death of a loved family member (and as a result, got a chance to reconnect with members of my family that I haven't seen in years)

I "went off" on someone during a religious conversation (which is sooooo not my personality)

I went to Disney World for the first time in my life (and then I went again)

I admitted that I was in love with my "man-friend"

I watched my nieces grow and develop their own individual personalities, hearing them express their feelings and opinions like "real life human beings" (go figure!)

I weighed more than I've ever weighed in my life

I realized that I will not be growing with the company I currently work at

I turned 26 (and celebrated my dog's 2nd birthday)

I didn't get my heart broken in a treacherous relationship (another change, lol)

I attended 2 weddings and got asked when I would get married about 2,645 times

I read the first 5 books of the bible

I saw my mother take a major step toward bettering her health

I got offered and accepted a job in Japan

I learned how to be discreet (haven't mastered it yet, though)

Ummmm . . . that's all I can think of for now. This year was really . . . I don't know. It just was. And that's okay. 2009 was officially a good year! Here's hoping that 2010 is even better.

Enjoy your New Year everyone and DRIVE SAFE!!!

My future Ex boyfriends

You ever look at somebody and think, "I would sooo be in a relationship with you, but I KNOW it would probably be complicated as all hell." Or look at someone and just imagine it working out. I think about these kinds of things all of the time, especially when it comes to certain celebrities. I think about who it could work with and who it just wouldn't and what my level of desperation would allow me to take before I quit (or get dumped). Here's a little peek into the happenings in my head.

Oh, Lenny. *Sigh* Lenny, Lenny, Lenny. I'm in love with you. But I just don't think it's working out. I mean the sex is out of this world. You're so passionate and wild. The parties, the yoga and meditating sessions afterward. They're great . . . but you're just a bit . . . . I dunno, too moody for my tastes. I mean, when I made that breakfast for you yesterday I didn't know you were a vegan. I didn't put butter on your toast to mess with your . . . what did you call it? . . . your essence. I was just trying to hook up your eating experience. Coming home and catching that girl in your bed was definitely not "even Steven" okay? That was just not cool. Oh, and the tatooing me in my sleep? No . . . no, it was not funny. I just don't . . . no, listen . . . I just don't think it's going to work. Maybe we can hook up once a month for a little . . . I dunno, butt naked monopoly or something. Just stop grabbing my . . . okay, well . . . since you're not going to stop, I'll oblige . . . . but just this once! No, no . . . I'll get the Ambien.

For real Maxwell?! After all of these years you end it with "It's not me, it's you"? "It's not me, it's you"?!? Don't you have that backwards? . . . It's supposed to be, "it's not YOU, it's ME." . . . . No, you don't? That's what you meant to say? Wow. Okay! Um, can I get all of my pillows back then? Why do you insist on taking all of my throw pillows anyway? You know what? Whatever dude, just send me my . . . stop throwing those pillows at me! Stop it! You really need to grow up! Oh hell . . . it's on now! PILLOW FIIIIGHT!!! . . . . take that! . . . . Oh shoot! Did I hurt you? Wait, lemme . . . stop holding your eye . . . lemme just look at it. No, lemme just . . . okay fine. Fine! I'm leaving. You're so freaking sensitive, god!

Harry. You need some flavor in your life, dude. I can see it in your eyes that you're down with the swirl. Let's make it happen brotha! We would be glorious together. And you love jazz too. I don't know how to play the piano but we can definitely make music together. (Disclaimer: Yes, I know he's happily married with children but this is my fantasy you know!) I totally see it working out with me and Harry Connick Junior. For some odd reason, I just do.

And last but certainly not least. I don't care how crazy this man may or may not be . . . I would stick it out to the bitter bitter end.

Boris . . . Boris!!! Boris, please baby, please! Please Boris, baby . . . pleeeeeaaase! Puh puh puh leeeze (sob, sob) Please (sniffle, sniffle) Please! Just, just give me a chance baby! I'll be so good to you just . . . . Boris! Where are you going?! BORIS!!! . . . . damn!

I can't even fantasize about him because even in my fantasies, I come on too strong and it always seems to scare him away. One day I'll be able to have a decent fantasy about this guy.

When I asked my man-friend what women he would love to get with, but knows it just wouldn't work out, he named . . . .

He says that she would probably be too high maintenance. I agree, lol.

I recall him saying that he thinks he could make this little lady happy.

That's Chante Moore (for those of you not up on 1990's era R&B). He met her once, and says they really hit it off. With his charm and all around great personality, maybe it coulda worked. But he's stuck with me now so GNAAH! (Sorry to be obnoxious, but that's just how I roll-plus, he's reading this so I have to tease him a little.)

That's all I got. I'm sure I fantasize about some more folks, but I can't think of any at the time. Who do you think would be "ex" worthy? Who do you think you could "make it work" with?

The Post of Christmas Presents

I hope I don't lose some of yall with this. But this is that real -ish, ya mean?!? Just think of me as the Ghost of Christmas Realness!!!

I don't celebrate Christmas. I just don't. I haven't celebrated since I was like 2 years old. Maybe it's because I'm a grinch, maybe it's because my whole family never really celebrated it for religious reasons (which I don't discuss . . . see this post). I could celebrate Kwanzaa, but after all of these years of not celebrating anything around this season . . . it's more of a tradition for me to not celebrate. Despite my not celebrating this popular national holiday, the traditional aspect, the cheerful atmosphere and the celebratory food and drink are not lost on me. I find it lovely that people are reunited with old friends and family, giving to the needy (and the not so needy, lol), extending warm greetings and swapping war stories of overcrowded malls and restaurants. I love the smell of cinnamon and spices when I walk into stores and the lights and decorations are my favoritest part of the whole season. (That and egg nog!!! I absolutely loooove egg nogg! I drink gallons and gallons of it around this time. Probably why I experienced the horrible tragedy described in my last post.) I wish people were like this all year round (of course, excluding the complainers).

Either way, I always ALWAYS get the same pitiful/shocked/horrified question from people when they find out that I don't celebrate Christmas. I've been getting it from people since I was like 5 years old. Young and old have asked me, black and white, rich and poor. "YOU DON'T CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS?!?"

Me: No
Them: No gifts? You don't get any gifts?
Me: No, not for Christmas
Them: What are you going to DOOO?!?
Me: (and I swear, I say this every year) Go home, sit in a corner and cry.
Them: (Laughs) Oh Arnetta! You're so funny! (conversation continues with some kind of invitation to dinner or a sympathetic-or just plain pathetic-shoulder pat and slow head shake.)

Now, I don't mind being asked this question because it's quite confusing to people and rightfully so. This is a national tradition. Something that damn near EVERYBODY in America partakes in. I mean, think about it . . . it's called Christ - mas and even athiests are celebrating it. Even so, little Ms. Green does not and this leads people to believe that I have never received a gift in my whole, entire life.

I assure you! I get gifts and I give them too. I used to try to explain to people that I get gifts, go to dinner with close friends and family, and enjoy little traditions throughout the year (Of course, nobody has ever believed me. I can see it in their faces that they think this is my sad attempt to appear normal, lol). But what are ya gonna do? Can't convince'em all.

And that's the sad part and it's actually the inspiration behind this whole post . . . (drumroll please) . . . Christmas isn't only about gifts. It's also not the only time to give and be friendly to people. I have wrapped a dozen different presents this year, signed my name to a bunch of different cards, given thousands of dollars to needy relatives, donated items to the Salvation Army, given money to beggars and crackheads, given toys to children, picked up items that have reminded me of someone and painstakingly painted portraits for people that I love. I do all of these things and the kicker is that I don't celebrate Christmas. I do it because I love and care about these people all year round. (I know I sound really self-righteous . . . but all jokes aside. It's true.)

All of the people who think that I don't ever receive gifts are the people that have never thought to give me one. And another kicker . . . these are also people that I have given gifts to. So the next time someone tells you that they don't celebrate Christmas, rather than asking them about gifts . . . please think of this post instead. And think about all of the times that you have received a gift or given someone something out of the bottom of your heart, rather than because your calendar says it's time to do it. That . . . my friends . . . is the true meaning of Christmas!

I bid you adieu! Be safe and enjoy your holiday!!! :-)

My Neck and my Back

So yesterday after chatting online with Stephanie (of Not the Oxygen) about the definition of Ambien sex (don't ask . . . or do, I'd love to explain it :-), I realized that I was still sitting in my jammies and it was 2:30pm. I had ran out of blogs to catch up on and the only thing I accomplished that day was walking my dog around the block and eating breakfast while watching my holiday guilty pleasure . . . A Diva's Christmas Carol. (In my defense, it was my day off) I decided then and there that I was going to be an adult and exercise my dog outside in the freezing, bitter cold and then drive downtown to the Clay Studio where I take my pottery class and pick up the last of my amateur creations (since the semester is officially over).

So whilst putting on my favorite (and only) Phillies zip-up sweater, I noticed a pain in the upper left corner of my back. The pain was sharp, but small and I attempted to shimmy it away, thinking that it was just a cramp (I have back problems). I managed to get the sweater on, shrugged up and down a few times and then attempted to put on my pants and the pain shot through my back again, this time going all the way through to my breast plate. It felt like a 1 second heart attack. 'Okay, ooww?' I said, in my White girl voice. Exercising the dog is definitely out. I decided that I would just drive to the clay place and when I took a step, I almost fell on the floor from the excruciating pain emanating from my shoulder, upper left corner of my back, neck and chest. "Aaaaaagghhhhh!" I screamed and limp-hobbled Igore style to the couch, where I laid paralyzed with my pants down around my ankles. "Oookay, no clay studio" I said in my head. My dog walked over to me confused and I didn't even have the strength to shoo him away. I was in that much pain. Thank god he didn't use my helpless state as an opportunity to sniff my crotch or anything because the way I was sprawled out, he would have had a field day.

After some self-coaching, crying and a whole lot of praying, I managed to hoist my legs up onto the couch, felt around for my phone (because it hurt to look around or move my neck) and called my "man-friend" who was at work. There was really nothing he could do (even though he was letting on like he was going to hurry to my side . . . "Ohmygod are you okay? I'll see if I can get there. (Pause) But, um . . . you going to be okay, though because . . . I, uh . . . I got a lot of stuff to do here." Yeah, thanks babe!). Soooo, I laid there (and eventually fell asleep) in that same position for 2 and a half hours. When I woke up, I realized that my whole upper body was still in excruciating pain. My poor dog was still looking at me, whimpering to be let out to pee. Even though every movement I made was painful, I managed to let him out.

Come to think of it, my neighbors probably thought I was involved in some hardcore sex because the only thing that came out of my mouth for almost 4 hours was "Ooooh, ah, ah, ah aaaaaggghhh, oh god, oh god, ooooh" And when I finally got the door open, a sexy, breathy "Yesss." Finally, the man-friend came home, took my pants from around my ankles and gave me a back rub with some alcohol. He cooked dinner and propped me up so that I could eat. In the meantime, my mom (who I talked to earlier) called to ask about my status (for the 150th time). "Still in a lot of pain," I moaned and let out a belch. "That felt good," I said.

"Wait a minute, Arnetta. Did you eat something with a lot of seasoning or spices in it lately?"

"Yeah, and?"

"You have gas!"

Eh-squeeze-me? Gas?! Gas was what made me feel like I was having a heart attack/stroke/seizure/epileptic fit? Don't old people suffer from that? (Sobering moment). Wow. Immediately the man-friend ran out to Rite-Aid and picked up some Rolaids and Gas-X. I spent the rest of the night belching and farting because I'm such a f#&@ing lady. I really thought I was going to die. The pain was that bad. The worst part of the night? When I was sobbing on my man-friend's shoulders, stuttering out "I don't . . .I don't know what's wrong with me-e-e!"

Aahh, yes . . . good times!

(Come to think of it, I could have used this for a TMI Thursday post. It happened on a Thursday. What's up Lilu? Is Friday too late? . . . Ah, maybe next time, lol.)

Father Figure

I'm seeing a guy that's 16 years my senior. My "man-friend" if you will. He is everything that I've ever wanted in a mate. Caring, interesting, intelligent, thoughtful, hard-working, extremely chivalrous, funny and mature yet obnoxious (like me, lol :-). He has excellent credit (which is a double plus, plus). We can talk for hours, or not talk for hours and just be. When we go somewhere or do something together, our thinking processes are so similar that we pick up on the same exact things . . . sometimes making the same responses aloud. We rarely argue and if we do, it's over quickly. (I haven't connected with anyone this much since my twin sister). BUT . . . he is 16 years my senior.

Last night, I had a dream that I was at a concert with my father. And have you ever had a dream where your life has some kind of alternative history? Well, at some point in the dream it dawns on me that I was actually in a relationship with my father. Like I'd been seeing him. My first thought was anger and disgust. I have to break this off, now I kept thinking to myself. I decided that I was going to tell Pops to kick rocks on the drive home. And I was also going to give him a piece of my mind, letting him know that he should be ashamed of himself for taking advantage of his own daughter. Then later on I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that I wasn't in a relationship with my father . . . I was in a relationship with my current "Man-friend" duuhh!. In the dream it was like, "Oooooh! Phew!" (giggle, giggle) But when I woke up, my thoughts were not thoughts of relief. It was more like confusion and fear.

I've always understood dreams to be your mind's idea of what's going on in your life. Like your deepest, realest thoughts. Make sense? So if that's the case, I guess I feel like I'm dating my father. When I explored my own history in my mind, I found that I was a textbook case for someone with "father issues."

1. Raised by a single-parent mom
2. Never really saw a grown man step up and take the lead or represent for his family
3. Never really saw a grown man be a bread-winner
4. Never saw a man have a meaningful, long-term relationship with a woman (wife, daughter, sister).

Don't get me wrong, I love my dad. But unfortunately, he didn't do any of these things.

So here comes the current beau who does all of these things, but he is old enough to be my dad (well, my teenage dad) and when we go out, sometimes people think he is my dad. I find him attractive, even though he is graying a little and has a bit of a belly. He is athletic, but is now getting to that age where . . . well, let's face it, he ain't getting any younger and cannot rumble with the young bucks the way he used to. He's a divorcee which is kind of bothersome to me (I think divorces are for quitters - except in extreme cases - but that's a whole nother article). All of these things aren't an issue to me now, but the problem is will they bother me in the future? What if all of this love wears off and the only thing left is anger and resentment? In my dream, I felt like the "father" person I was dating had taken advantage of me. Is this how I really feel about my current relationship? What if I find a man my age with all of these qualities and I want out? What if I leave and never find this kind of man again? . . . A lot of things to sort out here.

My friends (who know about him) think that he's too old. But they also know about the bull shit I've been through with guys my own age. Everybody else has no idea that I'm even in a serious relationship . . . and they all wonder (sometimes aloud) why I'm still single. The bottom line is that I've always been at this crossroads with my relationship and I know that involving friends and family will just influence me one way or the other. It's a choice that I will make or it will be made for me. We'll see.

Just thought I'd share my thoughts on that. And for the record . . . he's 42.

Letting the sh#% Go

I need to learn how to set people in their place dead on the spot. I also need to learn how to let things go so when I am not in a position to set someone or something straight, I don't hold onto it for the rest of my life. Ugh! I need a "life laxative."

When I get like this, it reminds me of the villain in this movie . . . (I wish I could have found a shorter video, but the whole clip is pretty good too so . . . )

Don't sleep on the children's cartoons. They can drop some serious life lessons on ya!

My favorite part is at 1:56 . . . "they allll hated me!" Hilarious! Every time I get hateful, I think of that.

Happenings and a Soap Box Ranting

I'm trying to refrain from cursing today. I usually have a mouth like a sailor and I think some days should be sacred, so excuse me if my language sounds a little . . . I dunno . . . childish. I have also been hanging with 5 year olds these past couple days soooo . . .

Blank Canvas
I am an artist. An arteest (if you will)! And I'm pretty *gosh darn* good too. Problem is, it takes me forever to paint one picture and I don't spend enough time painting or doing anything artistically productive. However, I recently started painting again and I'm working on a few pieces that I am pretty happy with and hope to turn into a series. Yaaay me!!! (Sidenote: My annoying coworker says that it takes me a long time to paint because I'm insecure with my work. People are a trip aren't they?! And for the record my skills are the mother-*loving* bomb!) Pictures to come!
Guy Privelige
How come (outside of church folk and family) I have the pleasure of running into guys that glorify being total *poopy* heads? I have heard men saying a lot of insensitive things against women in the wake of this Tiger Woods scandal as well as other recent scandals (Chris Brown/Rihanna) Have we gone backwards? Is it okay to treat women like crap? I guess if my man cheats on me or beats the stuffing out of me, I should come to expect it and just feel lucky that I found a guy willing to put up with me every day in the first dang place . . . you know, my being a woman and all with my Double D fun bags, my empty head and my whore face. LOL Am I getting carried away? Bottom line. Let's not forget our values here. I swear people want to turn this world into nothing more than a business transaction between prostitutes and "johns."

The Silver Lining
On a lighter note, I took my nieces to see The Princess and the Frog last night. It was sooo cute. The trip was supposed to be for them, but it was really a guilty pleasure. I am a Disney Princess fanatic. Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, the list goes on and on. As a little girl I grew up singing Disney songs and repeating the lines verbatim. I never held it against ole' Disney that I didn't see not nary a Black person in their princess movies - even after Disney started representing Native American princesses with Pocahontas or Arabian princesses with "Princess Jasmine", I still smiled and sang the tunes. "Can you paint with all the colors of the Wiiiiind? Can you paint with allll the colors of the wiiiind?!" (Then after Mulan hit theaters I thought to myself, this is getting fricking ridiculous here. Lol.) But here we are in 2009 and Disney is almost out of other races to do and we finally have an African American princess . . . *Sigh!* . . . it feels good yall. And to be honest, I don't think my nieces even noticed that she was Black (and I made sure not to emphasize it at all). They are blessed to be so young during "the age of Obama" having no clue that this is the first time in American history Black children can see images of fairytale princesses or Presidents and imagine themselves as beautiful and capable and . . . well, it brings tears to my eyes. Go America!

That is all. Have a happy Sunday folks!