Lifestyles of the poor and nameless

I usually talk to my mom twice/day. She gives me a "wake up" call in the morning. I used to answer, but recently, since I go to sleep pretty late, I just let the phone ring. She'll leave some message along the lines of "it's 6:30am, aren't you going to get up?" Errr..no. If I don't catch up with her during the day, she'll call me later at night. I feel guilty about the fact that I resent these phone calls sometimes. For all intents and purposes I'm grown and live on my own, but I still have to "check in" with my mother. It feels a bit oppressive at times.

My parents have been on vacation for a little over a week. I don't get any benefits from this, since I live 2 states away (my 2 brothers are home alone, enjoying my parents' absence). I was glad to break free of the daily check-in. As the week wore on, I found myself wanting to talk to my mom and share the highlights of my week with her. Because her cell phone is bootleg, she could make calls but had difficulty receiving calls...and she never checked voicemail, so I couldn't really get in touch with her. I became a slave to the morbid thought that my parents will pass away eventually and then I'll never be able to "check in". :-(.

I was happier than a kid in a candy store when they called yesterday. I didn't even mind my dad's boring stories about some electronics problem he had. Parents: can't live with them, can't live without them.

"We be clubbin" was a song by Ice Cube sometime circa 1998-2000. Catchy beat, retarded song. How appropriate that it is the theme song for today's post.

In honor of SlowMet's birthday this past Sunday, I agreed to tag along with her and my college roommate, YOR to dinner and a lounge on Saturday night. When I think dinner and a lounge, I think of a relaxed, quiet, somewhat upscale evening with good food, conversation and perhaps a drink or 2 to round things off.

But I was hoodwinked! Bamboozled! I arrived dressed for a dinner and a lounge evening. (Complete with uncomfortable dressy shoes....because after all, how much standing/walking does one do at dinner and a lounge?) What I got was: "so...what is there to eat in this neighborhood? And where's the nearest Black club?" *Sigh*

We walk around for a while and end up at a local pizza shop. After one slice each, we're ready to roll. We end up at a place called 40/40, which is somehow Jay-Z affiliated. After standing/walking around for a while, we find out that you pretty much need a reservation to sit anywhere in there. Survey says: Blah.

After chatting it up with the bouncers, SlowMet and YOR find out about another club in the area called Eugene's. We stand in line for a bit and then get inside. The decor was nice. But next thing you know, we're at the cashier with the "reduced admission" passes we got and the cashier is hitting us up for $20 each. Damn, that's "reduced admission"?! One more reason why I hate clubs (in addition to the fact that I never know what to wear to them). Perhaps I've been spoiled...on the rare occasions I've been to clubs with friends in the past, I've never paid more than $10 cover. If it costs more than that, we leave and find another place. But, in my old age I'm still subject to peer pressure, so I went in.

Less than 5 minutes after walking in, I recognize a guy that I used to talk to 2 years ago named S. Mother@#$%^! We took a seat somewhere and S came over and sat right next to me. I avoided making eye contact and ignored him. Eventually we got up and made our way to the dance floor. Since I'm not a dancer normally, and definitely not one when my shoes are cutting off the blood supply to my feet, I decided to have a drink. Grey Goose with cranberry is always an effective anesthetic. Eleven $%!@#* dollars.

Ah well. As the tranquilizer took effect, I relaxed and enjoyed the music. We sat down and I knew my feet were getting swollen, but there was no pain. Because all good things must come to an end, SlowMet and YOR wanted to check out the other club that we had access to. On the way out, I passed S at the bar. I didn't see him, but he saw me, tapped me on the shoulder and waved hello. I gave him a weak wave in return.

The next club called "Select" was pointless. About 10 minutes later we were back at Eugene's. Around 1am I decided to pack it up since I had to get back to Brooklyn and take my brothers to church for 8am. I hobbled to the train station and got back to my house at 3am.

I got to church a little late that morning and my feet were still screaming. But, I lived to tell the tale. The moral of the story: I still hate clubs....and pointy shoes are the devil's handiwork!

Yes, I'm upset. I was in bed, trying to sleep late and through the walls I hear the insistent bass and horrendous hook croacked by these scamps who call themselves the "Pussycat Dolls". I didn't think it was possible, but my next door neighbor played the song repeatedly for at least 30 minutes straight. And when I thought it was over, there was a brief intermission while I heard some 50 Cent drivel and then clear as a bell:

"Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? Don't cha Don't cha Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me? Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me? Don't cha Don't cha"

It is WORSE than the "Macarena" or "Who let the dogs out". In fact....now there's an idea. I think I might just start playing the macarena repeatedly. Maybe they'll get the hint....and on the plus side, even if they don't, I'll have driven myself crazy and I won't notice :-).

Wednesday was the "welcome back" office luncheon for one of my co-workers who recently returned from military duty. We went to a wonderful pastry shop/restaurant where I got enough food to take home for tonight's dinner and tomorrow's lunch (in addition to what I ate while I was there) for $12.35 (after tax & tip). Our boss was supposed to attend lunch with us, but she got stuck in a meeting and couldn't make it (much to the delight of many in the group).

Background: One of our co-workers is an elderly lady named Hau. She is past retirement age, although nobody knows exactly how old she is. She has respiratory issues and sometimes takes off from work because of it. Recently, one of her brothers passed away very suddenly, and she was left to see after his estate. She requested time off without pay (we call this furlough) but the boss denied her request, saying that there is work to be done. Many of the co-workers think Hau should just put in her retirement, but Hau has been resisting.

On the way to the restaurant, everyone kept talking about the great bread that we would get there. They have 2 flavors: cheese and cinnamon. Each slice is the size of a sicilian pizza slice. They both suck, if you ask me, but everyone else loved them. The plate of bread that came to our table was huge. The bread was plentiful, like manna from heaven, and they just kept refilling it. My ghetto co-workers (comforting to know that "others" can be ghetto too) had brought in plastic bags to take the bread home. Hau said that she wanted to bring a piece of cinnamon bread back for the boss. But the co-worker who was hoarding the bread wouldn't let her have it when he found out who she wanted to give it to. "Oh, you want to give this to the boss who won't let you take furlough?! No no." In the end, Hau got about 1/4 of a slice. She said she was too embarassed to bring such a small piece back, because it looked like someone's leftovers.

The rest of the co-workers snickered and said "oh well." But I was in awe of Hau. The boss kinda makes Hau's life miserable, but Hau was still willing to do the Christian thing and bring her some bread. I know I wouldn't have thought to do it if I was in Hau's place. God bless you, Hau.

Last Friday I got into an argument with a guy that I've been friendly with for the past year. His name is Mike. He's 24 and a little 'hood, but he's pretty smart and very interested in business start-up and finance. Most of our conversations have focused on these topics, as well as "what's wrong with the Black community." We've talked about possibly starting a business together someday.

Several months ago, I found out that Mike doesn't have a bank account. He told me that he doesn't trust banks. He thinks they're basically robbing people since they give such low interest rates (1% is about the usual these days) and then they charge such high interest rates when they lend out money. He said he prefers to save his money at home because then he knows where it is and has access to it whenever he wants. I call this the "mattress money theory". I told him that any interest is better than no interest, and he should really consider opening something.

Since that discussion, I signed up with ING Direct through my brother. I told Mike about it and he said he wasn't interested. I couldn't understand how he could invest so much energy in trying to "get rich" but then ignore something that pays instantly. He said he didn't have enough money to start the account. I told him there was no minimum. If he had $1 he could get started, and they'd give him $25 as a bonus. He said he'd think about it. I told him I'd get $10 if he signed up (hey, I'm all for full disclosure).

A couple months went by. I told a few people about ING. Some said they were interested but couldn't afford to open the account. Some were just plain skeptical. Some people I pushed (because they're always complaining about lack of money or trying to hustle for more) and others I never followed up with.

Mike was one of the people I pushed. He was always trying to get me into some business idea, but in order for a partnership to work, the partners need to have similar financial beliefs and credit histories. I found out that the ING interest rate increased and I told him about it. He repeated his mattress money theory. Then he blew up and accused me of trying to scam him for $10, and said I wouldn't have told him about it if there was no referral fee. I was disgusted and offended by that. Yes, I struggle with money too, but to say I'm going to scam a person for $10 is wild. The only reason I pushed him, was because he was the biggest "hustler/aspiring entrepreneur" I know who didn't even have a bank account. I remember back in the day when I worked at a dot com and told my friends to buy the stock--- it was at $2/share. Everyone cried "I'm broke!" 6 months later, the company merged and the stock went to $13/share. Hotjobs.com/Yahoo!...who woulda thought? If I find a way to make money, I want my friends in it too. Plain and simple.

In the end, I sent Mike $10 through PayPal to let him know that it wasn't the money I was after. I just happened to truly believe in what I was saying. 2 days later, he wrote me an email and said that the real reason he wouldn't sign up is because he was broke and too embarassed to say so. I haven't responded to his email yet because I can't think of what to say. I really don't care if Mike is broke. It's a temporary stage anyway. I can understand him being defensive about it, but going on the offensive and attacking MY character? That's a bit much. It's the 3rd time in a year that I've found myself defending my integrity to him. He's inherently skeptical of people, even when they're trying to help, as I do. It's a real turnoff. I think it's time for me to cut him loose.

I saw Mr. Chips aka Frat boy on Tuesday; he graciously chauffeured me to a meeting that I had in New Jersey. I knew that I had this meeting coming up, so I tried to spend some time with him the weekend before the meeting, but it didn't happen. I hate to rely on favors from people and I didn't want it to seem like I only saw him when I needed to go somewhere.

In days gone by, frat boy and I used to talk everyday; sometimes twice/day. I enjoyed the attention, but I knew it was bcause he had an interest beyond friendship. In recent history, he's been distant and our conversations have been pretty generic. We probably speak once or twice/week, outside of scant emails and IMs.

I have this meeting again next week, so despite our awkward interactions these days, I offered to take him out to dinner after the meeting. At least he can't say that I just used him and never gave back.

I miss the conversations we had in the early days, but I understand why things are this way. He's 29, educated, owns 2 houses and he's ready to settle down and have a family. He doesn't want friends. He wants a girlfriend that can later be his wife. I don't think this is desperate at all. The man knows what he wants and since I can't oblige, I won't waste his time.

Why is it that when a guy takes this approach, he's "focused", but when a woman takes this approach, she's "needy"?

I was watching a movie on my computer when an IM from "Brad" popped up. I haven't spoken to him in about 6 months. Brad and I were chat buddies in late 2002/early 2003. He wanted to meet up, but he seemed a little desperate, so I declined the meeting.

About a year later, I saw him on IM and he told me that he got a girlfriend. Good for him. Of course, next came "so are YOU seeing anyone? No? Oh". And later..."well, maybe if you had gone out with me back then you wouldn't have been single." Ugh. Whatever.

So this week, Brad asks if I'm still in PA. I tell him that I am and he says "cool. I got married 6 months ago. My wife and I just moved to PA also....but we're only here until she finishes her residency." Mother#%^&* did I ASK you about your wife or her residency? No. So why the !@#% are you bringing it up?

If he'd let me ask the questions and the answer happened to be that he's married and his wife is doing her thing, I might have felt like maybe I missed something. Instead, I just think he's pathetic.

I have a problem with snacking at work. I eat because it helps to pass the time. This is counter-productive to my workouts. I need something else to do to make up for it; enter the first sport of the "Office Olympics": Competitive water drinking.

The more liquid you consume, the less food you are likely to eat. Sounds good to me. How do I play? All you need is a water cooler, some empty water bottles and a few colleagues. Challenge your friends to see who can drink the most water in one day at the office. Trust me, it's harder than it sounds. For an added challenge (and a guaranteed termination) use your chairs to race down the hallway to the bathroom. The loser will have to change the water cooler tank for a week. The winner...will be so busy running to the bathroom they won't have time to worry about a prize
:-). And everyone else will be hydrated, happy and NOT SNACKING!

The Ballet Workout tape is 70 minutes long and boasts "get the look and grace of a professional dancer." I think I did 30 minutes yesterday. No, I didn't wear a tutu, tiara or even a unitard. I did have a ponytail/bun though. Does that count?

I haven't done anything remotely ballet-like since summer camp when I was 10. It didn't seem like that long ago until I started the tape. I know that you're supposed to stretch before and after exercise but I've been avoiding it for years. I now have the flexibility of a concrete slab.

I knew I was off to a rough start when I couldn't even get "1st position" or whatever they call it when your feet are at 180 degrees to each other. I can get to about 135 degrees, but that's about it.

The tape assumes some basic ballet knowledge (I guess that's why they call it Ballet Workout 2...but tape 1 wasn't available). I didn't have this basic knowledge so I was floundering a bit. Who knew all that foot-flapping could wear you out?

I have 5 more days with the tape. I think I'll keep going and then try something else. Maybe I'll try breakdancing...or Riverdance if they have it...lol. The goal is to keep moving and try different things so I don't get bored. Wish me luck :-).

I took yesterday off for a much needed "mental health" break. I wanted to wait until later in the week, but alas....I couldn't hold out anymore. Why does the day pass so quickly when you're not at work, but it just drags on and on when you're at work?
I ran quite a few errands yesterday, rode my bicycle around the neighborhood, spent some time in the library, and watched 3 movies. Ever saw the movie "Radio"? I watched it and I cried a bit. When did I become such a sap, crying at movies? ugh. I also watched "something's gotta give" with Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton. J.N. is like a train wreck. He's kinda scary looking, but you can't stop looking at him. Even scarier was that they showed his butt in the movie. Yikes.

The bike ride was a little too long. Ever get into those introspective moments where you start thinking about anything and everything? I had that yesterday, and it was killing me. I could not escape my own thoughts. Even though I am not happy about being back at work, I'm glad for the air conditioning and the chance to get away from the internal reflection.

I think I'll skip the bike ride today. I checked out a "ballet workout" video from the library yesterday. I think I'll try that instead. My friend suggested that for the full effect I should get a tutu and a tiara, but I think I'll settle with the video for now.

I was riding the SEPTA Regional Rail train (PA transit) home from work today when I noticed an altercation brewing. The train conductor (a 30-something black female) walked into our car and told a passenger (a thugged out 20-something black male holding his baby daughter) that he needed to move his baby carriage out of the aisle and in between 2 seats, so that people can get through. She wasn't talking to me, but I still felt slighted by her tone. You know when someone's had a hard day and they're about to snap? Clearly, she must have had one hell of a day. That baby carriage was like the last straw, but she tried to maintain. Still, it wasn't the passenger's fault that she had a bad day.

He asked her where he was supposed to move the carriage to, since space was limited. She had already said that he should move the carriage between the two seats, but I guess he didn't hear her. She threw up her hands and said "I asked you to put the stroller between these seats!" Then she continued walking through the car to collect tickets. The guy got up and tried to push the stroller between the seats. Because there was a bag hanging off one side of it, and he had his daughter in one hand, he didn't have the leverage to get the stroller in the proper position. So he pushed it in halfway and left it alone; then he sat down. The iron maiden came back and started screeching about how she told him three times to put the stroller in between the seats. He came back with "well, where am I supposed to put it? It won't fit". I don't need to tell you that in the next couple minutes, passenger and train conductor started going back and forth. He asked her if she forgot to take her meds for the day. She said he was stupid. He said "stop acting like a !$%^$%!@ bird". She thought he said "#$%#$ you" and took it personal. I felt bad for his daughter, listening to this exchange. I silently prayed that she wouldn't grow up to be scrapping in the streets, neck-popping and trash-talking like these two.

Personally, I think the conductor should be fired/reprimanded/demoted, whatever. She is in the position of "customer service" and rule #1 is: "the customer is always right". Regardless of your personal beliefs, you're not supposed to sit there arguing with the customer and cursing them out is a definite no. Her attitude was messed up from the time she walked into the train car. She was acting more like the guy's mother and less like the civil servant that she was hired to be.

At the end of the day, we had an angry Black woman and an angry Black man. All she had to do was help him put the stroller between the seats or offer to hold the child while he did it, and there wouldn't have been any conflict. Instead, she started barking at him. Sometimes, we make me sick.