Beer Nuggets

So What If You Can Sing?

Man, I know I can’t carry a single note. While the canary is singing, toads are croaking loudly if I even attempt to fa-la-la. I’m not ashamed to say my slightly high pitched yet weirdly raspy voice isn’t meant to be an alto in anyone’s choir.

So as I recognize my lack of singing ability, why do those who have a voice want to use it at every chance that they get? Like, while I’m standing in line at the gas station I hear the man next to me just singing y’all. I don’t even know what tune he’s belting out, but he’s clearly confident enough to share his auditory pleasantries with the general audience in the gas station lobby. And I look at him, slowly, slyly out of the corner of my left eye, begging him to shut the hell up.

I, and from the looks of the other guests in the lobby, could care less if you can sing. We just want to buy our goods and leave. No public serenading please. Just shut your mouth.

Who do they think they are Luther Vandross, Al Green, Old Blue Eyes? I mean really. The way people carry on singing in public would be like a Fred Astaire or Gregory Hines and tap, tap, tippity tap as they walk to the urinal to relieve themselves. Seriously. Or, think of it as what if an Interior Designer entered a medical office and moved the sofa to the opposite end of the room then removed the window treatments. It’s just not normal to walk around singing because you have a little talent that you think others will not mind if you share it. Well we do mind and we don’t always want to hear you crooning.

I don’t need to hear the latest T. Pain or Marvin Sapp melody, let me just hear the shuffling noise of the bums, the honks from those 9-5’ers and the occasional sound of a police siren blaring. That’s the only tunes I want to hear if I have to hear any sort of public nuances.

Keep it to yourself or save it for a studio, choir or morning shower.

Sponsored by EnterTo.com the first REAL spam free email

This is Harder than it LOOKS

Pole dancing, is it a sport?

YES! YES! YES and more yes. My girlfriend and I signed up to participate in a poledancing class. We both were nervous, not knowing what to anticipate. I mean, it's a "learn how to dance like a stripper' class in essence. So, you could imagine, we had our reservations…but curiosity prevailed.

Outside of being completely winded and sweating a lot, I enjoyed myself and can't wait to register for the 6-week course.

Notes to the novice Pole Dancer:

Wear shorts...the smaller, the better. When you're trying to fling yourself around a metal pole, yoga pants tend to flip flop everywhere, slowing down your twirling momentum...(that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it).
Don't look at the other girls in the class. If you're picking up the dance routine just fine, once you glance over at Faux-Candy with the horrid red plaid Catholic girl style mini-skirt with the dingy white-ish corset top on with, and I SWEAR white bobby socks and 6-inch white stripper shoes and pimples on her booty---you'll quickly forget if you were on 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5, 6, 7, 8....
Bring knee pads. Or learn how to drop to the ground in a doggy style position WITHOUT bruising your knees.
Don't feel embarrassed if you can't shake it like the instructor. Just go home and start watching BET to learn the latest dance moves.
Bring an open mind. You'll see women of all shapes, sizes and color..if you think it's one type of lonely housewife class...you're wrong.
And most importantly, remember IT'S HARDER THAN IT LOOKS!

Sponsored by EnterTo.com the first REAL spam free email

My dog snores

My dog snores and farts like your Uncle Bootsie. My dog, intakes air through his nose that sounds like a small child whistling Dixie at high noon. Most times, you can see his mouth gaped open and tongue laying leisurely on the floor.

Now his flatulence is deserving of an entire devoted paragraph. I feed him the same food each day. So where is the stink-stink coming from? Yes, yes, I do give him scrapes of table food from time to time, but I try to make sure it’s stuff like pieces of chicken or turkey, nothing too saucy or starchy. I’ve seen him be sound asleep snoring loudly and then this noise which sounds like a gong being beat explodes from his hiney. WTF??? And what’s funnier is that it’ll wake him up and he’ll raise his head slightly, perk his floppy ears and look at ME??!! Eww…you nasty creature, don’t look at me! You did it, I don’t have nothing to do with you lighting your ass on fire.

Then he rolls back over and commences his vivacious singing while snoozing. I often think what man will accept me and all that comes with me, including my mutt who farts and snores. This is important to me that whoever shows interest in me, must love dogs. Especially a flatulent mutt who tries to blame you for sending suffocating fumes which touch every four corners of the room!

I sometimes worry that maybe my dog has allergies or asthma, then who’s gonna love me? It’s hard enough accepting me with my bodily functions, allergies, asthma, IBS and arthritis, now he has to take the dog too? That’s a lot of pressure, expectation and responsibility. Am I asking too much? Really, honestly, seriously…what is a girl to do?

Sponsored by EnterTo.com the first REAL spam free email

Viva La Mini!!

Women, I’m tired of all these fashion age-inspired, ridiculous rules. No white after Labor Day, pantyhose at all times with a skirt or dress, slips and camisoles – BLAH! But, before I get on my soapbox, there are some simple guidelines, a sophisticated, over 30 year old woman should follow.

v I believe in the no daisy dukes rule. Ladies if you don’t have the legs, meaning, if you’ve never done a squat in your life, Bermudas – all day.

v I believe in wrap dresses. They work for 95% of women, no matter what size, shape or color. Just watch the pattern, color or prints. Trust me, they work honey, they work.

v Low-rise jeans aren’t for everyone. Face it ladies, not all of us have big bootylicaious behinds that can fill two pocket Paper Denims. That’s just the truth, don’t shoot me, go find a pair of mama jeans and just deal with it.

v If you’re lil cousin, niece, former mentee or co-worker fresh out of college are wearing trendy fads like leggings or 80s loud dangling Zsa Zsa Gabor bracelets, it’s a clear indication that your tail shouldn’t try. (There’s one exception, if you’ve always been fashion forward and your peers won’t think you’re going through a mid-life crisis by sporting those rad trends, you’re exempt).

OK, now that I got that out of the way. I can still rock one hell of a mini. If Heidi Klum, who’s 35 with three children under the age of 5, is still showing off those giraffe structures, why hell so can I!

Viva la mini, viva la mini, viva la mini.

Sponsored by EnterTo.com the first REAL spam free email

I think I drank deodorant

Umm, so as I was getting ready Saturday morning, I had my normal cup of java to kick start my full day of activities. I was half dressed in the bathroom, trying to hurry because I had to stop by the Korean beauty mart on my way out. I grabbed my Degree and swiped a few times under each arm. But then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large chunk fly. I looked down and around my sink so I can clean it up. I couldn't find it. Then it occurred to me that my nice, warm cup of coffee with my equally measured raw sugar and hazelnut creamer was right underneath my right arm....

Umm...could it be that the chunk of Shower Clean is floating in my cup??? Nah, I thought and kept getting ready, but I was scared to take a sip nonetheless...so after a minute of purposely not drinking my coffee, I said what the hell, if it's in there, it won't kill me! I'll be damn if I go make a full new pot of coffee just cause of one small piece of a solid anti-perspirant may have landed in my milky smooth morning beverage.

So, I drank it down and noticed at the bottom of the cup was some white swirly liquid. Which is sometimes typical if I allow my coffee to chill, the creamer starts to separate a tad. But on this Saturday my eyes bugged out knowing that I still didn't find the deodorant that broke off anywhere in the bathroom, I succumbed to the fact that "I think I drank deodorant"!

I told one of my best friends about it later that night and she just laughed hysterically. Which made me laugh and thought she has to be one of the closest people I know because she knows how I can't function right without my coffee and that fact that I can share a story of how I'd rather risk drinking deodorant than make a new pot of coffee says a lot about our friendship. Hell I didn't even think it was funny until she was cracking up and I swear I could hear her howling all the way from LA.

Sponsored by EnterTo.com the first REAL spam free email

Lightning Strikes and bugs fly

It’s funny as I lay, stretched out across my sofa, I can see glimpses of light flicker every two to three seconds. Each time, my eyes are averted to the back door window and I would grow scared, not knowing if I’m just being paranoid because I never put up the blinds or longer curtain like my dad said. Or am I just imagining the neighborhood pervert standing outside the door, staring at my half nakedness. Whichever reason it is, I need to do put something up for privacy sake alone.

The twitches of light I see are lightening bugs. A slow grin appeared on my quasi-Asian faced shape as I reminisce about late summer days as my sister, cousin and I ran to catch those blinking bugs. I found myself stretched across the sofa, just looking at the bugs and smiling.

Those were the days where I would rock my LA Dodgers Starter set with pride and my sister would wear her Georgetown Hoyas set. You would think that we both were members of said teams, respectively. In those days I experienced my first kiss with a boy who hated lip gloss. During that time, we watched our mom and aunt go on the Oprah show and talk about bullying. I mean it was OPRAH man! We still asked my grandmother for a dollar because we could hear the ice cream truck coming. Our grandfather would treat us to a ride in his big yellow Ford as we made our run to Mickey Dee’s for breakfast. I would read 3 books of my cousin’s assigned summer reading while he played a triple hitter and give him a full report; it was kind of a verbal cliff notes. But he’d get all the credit at the end of the day. How cool were those days?

I never thought that the frightening precursors to a violent storm would bring about soothing, nostalgic childhood memories. As dusk turned to night, and the trees outside the glass swayed slightly, I came out of my trance and realized I was no longer 13. The bugs were now accompanied by crackling, too close for comfort lightening and most creatures were now disappearing, looking for a place to hide and wade out the impending storm.

But, I still remember the days when I ran up and down the hills of Pittsburgh, playing and not caring if the house wasn’t air conditioned, or if MTV was on, or what boy I should call. Just being with my family and friends was enough for me.

Sponsored by EnterTo.com the first REAL spam free email

1995 and Magic Carpet Ride

So, I recently dated a guy for two months. A guy who I had a major crush on when I was a freshman and he a senior while we both were in college. I mean, it's great when you reconnect 12 years later, right?

He's cute, with a rocking, hot body. Older now, mid-30s, divorced, but caring, funny and HOT. He's a former NFL'er, meaning he’s established even after being beat-up, ran over for many years. So I couldn’t go wrong, right?

He lived in one city and I lived here, in Atlanta. Perfect, because as grown-ups we can both focus on work and family without feeling the burden of dating exclusively or seeing each other every other day. It was a cool, get-to-know you situation, one I was comfortable pursuing.

Well, he disappeared, poof. Just stopped calling; stopped sending texts and emails. I'm OK with the fact that nothing came of our 'budding' relationship, but I'm not alright with him being a jerk and not sending my cherished high school yearbook. Ya know, the one I forgot while visiting him. I totally inadvertently left it in his basement and asked that he send it to me. Wait, let me back up, I first asked him to hang on to it until the next time we see each other. But the flakiness started. The sparse phone calls, the one-way text messages, he'd respond to my messages, but as for him initiating the communication, fat chance. I got a hunch that I’d never see him again, call it women’s intuition so I asked him to send it to me - dork! He did respond once, to a text where I kindly requested he just send it to me, at his convenience of course because we all know that men do things on their time. He answered about a week later that he would send it, oh, and get this nonsense; he apologized for it taking him so long to respond. *crickets, crickets* Well, it’s been two weeks later and still, no yearbook. And I haven’t heard one peep back from him, over a month now.

I've dated enough to know when I guy isn't feeling you anymore. So his apparition-like qualities aren't shocking to me. What is amusing, frustrating, ultra-annoying, is the fact that he hasn't taken 5 minutes to swing by a freaking Post Office to mail my 1995 Senior Yearbook. The one where I was crowned the first African American Homecoming Queen where our class saved the theme Magic Carpet Ride for our precious last official year of adolescence. The one which houses a copy of my Student Body farewell address I delivered as the President.

So, I'm playing the waiting game, waiting to see how long it takes Jerk-o to send the book, assuming it's still in one piece. For all I know, he may have had a girlfriend who discovered my book of memories became enraged and discarded it. Or slashed it to shreds, or made him eat each page where my picture was plastered.

And this, my friends, is why dating in the New Millennium, is for the birds.

Sponsored by EnterTo.com the first REAL spam free email

If you believe in a devil, than Corporate America is an angel

So, I masquerade as a Corporate Recruiter for an engineering firm in Atlanta. It pays the bills, that's about all I can say. Great company and I've been fairly successful, but I enjoy writing to you folks a lot more.

Who's idea was it to create this entity known as Corporate America? I'd like to meet this guy so I can yank his drawers far over his head. I mean, it had to be a man who thought it's a good idea to house as many people in one building as you possibly can and make them earn wages until their little thumbs wither away. Give them two crappy, freakin minute breaks, an hour lunch and tell them to take one for the team. Ya, sure, blow it up da hiney.

And with the lovely technological advances, my how the quality of our lives have improved. Instead of my phone ringing off the hook, I'm receiving so many emails that I just read them as I feel the need. Most of them deserve a 360 degree eye roll anyway, so why read something that's only going to cause you to huff and your shoulders to tense? And the phone still rings. No thank you, buckaroo, I'll pass, next please.

I'm not into believing there's an actual devil with horns and a pointy tail, but I tell ya, at any given day, one of my regional managers could fit the mold and at any given time, you may find him in Level 9 of purgatory....

All I gotta say is blogging is my outlet from the crazy business world. Totally!

Sponsored by EnterTo.com the first REAL spam free email