My (random) thoughts

I'm sitting here, in front of my computer, searching the web for whatever. Right now, I'm googling how to make homemade potato chips. I've found that I cook a lot more, especially now that Munchkin is home for the summer. I don't like buying him food from outside, but sometimes it's unavoidable, especially when I'm so tired cause of the Nursing program. But now that we're both on vacay, I cook wayyyy more than I used to. I've perfected my stew-making abilities. I've improvised too in my quest to make chinese food for him. He looooovvvveeesss chow mein noodles but being a broke nursing student is no fun, so I had an idea to make "chinese" noodles with spaghetti. I had left over chicken and veggies from the stir fry I made a week ago and cooked some spaghetti. I mixed the two together and added some stir fry sauce (first time using the stuff) and presto, magico, chinese noodles were born and munchkin fell in love. The kid devoured t

My list of I don'ts: 1. I don't know how to ride a bike. Why? I never owned one. I'm 34 years old and I've never owned a bike. Munchkin, who's quite proficient at riding his bike, even does stunts on his bike, placates me and tells me that I'd better get a bike soon and when I do get one, he'll teach me how to ride one. (my head hangs in shame) 2. I don't know how to swim. Why? When I tried to learn, I almost drowned so I figured it just wasn't meant to be. lol. I'll wade in the water, but attempt to swim? Nope. 3. I don't drink. Why? I have no tolerance. I take a sip and my head swims. My former co-workers and I, a bunch of lovely people, predominantly white, went to World on Wheels to roller skate. For whatever reason they decided to go to the bar first, before roller skating. I had a Midori Sour. In a really large glass. I didn't ask for it to be in that glass, that's how they gave it to me. I drank it, I comp

I freaked out today. Why? I realized I have a crush on someone I don't even know, someone I've never met, who I'll never meet. How bizarre. I finally had to admit it today that I liked him from the moment I read his words. He intrigued me and the more I read his stuff, the more I liked what I read and the more curious I was about the person behind the words. He writes like I talk. Through his words, I see him as charming, witty, intelligent, self deprecating, sincere, wildly funny, I can't seem to find any more adjectives to describe him. Today, I came to terms with the fact that I'm attracted to him, someone I don't really know, someone I'll never really know. I started reading his archival pieces and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I stopped midway through his second archival piece because the feeling of like was too overwhelming. I haven't been to his blog since. I'll go back and finish reading so that I can be up to date with his curr

I'm getting the Munchkin ready for 1st grade. He turned 6 in May so I bought him two books, both to get him ready for the 1st grade with math and phonics. We're steadily working on both and it's exciting. I think it was the last day of kindergarten and he asked me if 1st grade was hard. I told him it wasn't. In fact, I told him it was so much fun. He looked at me like, sure, yeah right. He told me that one of his friend's older sister, who is 7, told them that 1st grade was hard. I told him that it all depended on how you go into it. If you go into it thinking it's hard, it'll be hard, but, if you go into it thinking it'll be easy, it'll be easy. After much thought, he said, " I believe YOU mommy cause you're older than my friend's sister." BIG SMILE ON MY FACE. So, we're getting ready. It's amazing that even though this is the 1st grade, it's the starting point, really, for my son's academic career. I

My sister and I were supposed to go to a party tonight. When she first told me about it, about a week ago, I was gung ho! about it. Then a couple days ago, I decided I really didn't want to go. Sure, I love the opportunity to get dressed up and do my hair, slather on my makeup and accessorize till the cows come home, but for whatever reason, I just wasn't feeling it. I guess it's cause the person throwing the party or the venue of the party wasn't that exciting or maybe, my reasons for going to parties is no longer valid. In the past, I would go to parties to get noticed by some lovely bloke and have someone to be with, preferably someone nice. But coming to the realization that I haven't really found quality men, for a while now, the thrill of going out is fizzling. I went to a wake keeping with my mom last Saturday and it was interesting. I was holed up in a corner, playing KA-GLOM on my blackberry. How fun! My mom had a better time than me. lol. But,

I have a confession to make: I'm prejudiced. There, I've said it. Should I feel ashamed? I don't know. You tell me. Wanna hear about, well, here it goes... I have these likes, mainly dislikes, when I spot someone. I'm an observer. I love to just blend in the background and watch what's going on in front of me. I sometimes border on staring and when I get caught, sometimes I'll look away quickly and pretend as if I hadn't seen them or sometimes, I may look at them and smile. So, what am I prejudiced about? It's not what you think. I'm not prejudiced against anyone for their skin color, their sexual orientation, their religious beliefs, or anything that's really significant. OH NO! It'll be easier if I just list them and (hopefully) be able to explain why I'm prejudiced about the things I'm prejudiced about. 1. I don't like fat earlobes. Laugh all you want, but there's something about fat earlobes that turn me off

Which is better, being pampered with material goods or pampered with tenderness and kindness? I thought of this when I was talking about character in my last post. Which would make me happiest? A man with money, who can spoil me, give me all I want and nothing else? or a man, without money, who takes care of me? At this point, I'd take the latter. I had the former. I was married to a guy who had money, who bought me cars, jewels, gave me pretty much whatever I wanted, but was a cruel son of a bitch. He reached levels of cruelty I never knew existed. Even as we were divorcing, he butchered my name in the Nigerian community and painted me as this vile person. Even people who knew my family since we were little, some who even went to school with my mom, were looking at me askance. The bastard even tried to take my kid from me, but the Lord gave me victory and allowed me to prevail. So yeah, I've had the money and all that, but I'd rather have a man who doesn't

We all have it, the image in our heads of what our ideal mate is. I've had so many that I can't even keep count. It changes from a light-skinned brother with blue eyes to a dark/brown-skinned brother. The constants are that he has to be Nigerian, specifically Igbo, preferably from Anambra State, like me and he has to be tall, above 6'2, I'm 5'11 and have a great character, morals, ethics, personality. Yesterday, it was this light-skinned dude with blue eyes that had me at hello (I was watching a movie and that's where I spotted him.) Today, it's a dark-skinned brother from the L word. Funny thing is that I'm more captivated by the dark-skinned brother and can actually visualize myself with him, if there was such a guy in real life. His physicality pleases me a great deal. He's tall, very attractive, but in a rugged sort of way, not a pretty boy. He's not overly muscular but he's certainly not fat. He's just right and I think tha

The title for this puff piece is the one of the nicknames I call my six year old son. The first time I called him baby-cakes, he didn't say a word. He came when I called him, but he didn't say whether he liked it or not. Mindless of whether he liked it or not, I continued to call him baby-cakes. This past Sunday, while leaving church and walking to my car, he asked me why I hadn't called him baby-cakes in a while. Too cute. I told him there wasn't any reason and I'd continue calling him baby-cakes, he smiled and said, "ok." Mind you, this is the same kid that had the nickname bunny, thanks to my sister, and he went nuts. He was around three at the time, but he'd had the nickname since he was one. He vehemently opposed bunny and said he looked nothing like a rabbit and could we please stop calling him bunny. LMAO. We did, but it was so hard because that's what we'd been calling him for ages. So, bunny was dropped. It took me a year t

I have this thing with the way people speak. It started when I was in the 6th grade. I had this teacher, loved her. Her name was Ms. Shumate. She's African-american. She had such lovely diction. I went to a public school out in the valley, Granada Hills to be exact, a predominantly white school. It had a smattering of minorities. Back to Ms. Shumate. She had a tendency to correct any kid, namely the black kids, who didn't speak well. There was one girl in particular, her name was Bridgett. She was born in Los Angeles, but she sounded like she came from the deep south. When she said "oil", it sounded like "all." Instead of saying, "I'm about to...", she'd say, "I fina..." Instead of saying, "I won't...", she'd say, "I ain't..." Ms. Shumate made it her duty to teach Bridgett and all the rest of us black kids how to have proper diction. Trust me, she didn't have to do any work on me

I'm watching the L word. I love this show. Funny thing is that when it first came out, I refused to watch it because it made me uncomfortable. So, the show ends and I now have Netflix. I started watching it, out of curiosity, truth be told I was horny as hell and wanted to get off (masturbate). I absolutely love this show. So, it leads to what I want to ask. Sex, hetero or homo sexual, it's just sex, right? The reason why I ask is because watching this show begs the question about sex in monogamous relationships and casual sex. When you're with someone and you're with them, sex is involved. When you're out of a relationship and need physical release, sex is involved. So, how sacred is it? Back in the day, sex used to be the equivalent of the gift you found at the bottom of the crackerjack box. It used to be something to look forward to, but now it feels like it's obligatory. I think that's why I'm celibate. I'm reevaluating what place

Bear with me, I'm translating HOW BIZARRE in different languages. Trust me, there's a point to this madness. What I have to say (write) warrants the notion that it's so bizarre. How Bizarre (English, obviously) Come Bizzarro (Italian) Comment bizarre (french) Wie bizarre (German) Como bizarro (Portuguese) ¿Cómo extraño? (Spanish) Right then. Now that that's out of my system, down to the nitty gritty. My ex-boyfriend sent me a text on 06/08/10, at 9:18am, saying, "just sending you a good morning. I hope and pray that all is well with you." You may ask, what's so strange in that? Well my dear, let me tell you. Quick Recap: the last time I communicated with my ex boyfriend was the day we were supposed to go out. We'd agreed on a time and what entailed with hanging with one's SO. Things didn't work out that way. He stood me up. He never called, never let me know what the deal was. For all I know he could have been dead. I called him p

I put my picture up. Why? Just to do it. To give me a face. But in doing so, I've lost my sense of anonymity. Without my picture being up here, I could freely write about whatever was on my mind. But now, I'm feeling censured because whilst before I put my picture up, I didn't have to worry about who read my blog because they couldn't put a picture with a face. But now, I don't feel like I can write freely anymore. Why? Because I have not fully let out all that lies in my head. I'm not keeping anything back purposely, but the reason for this blog was to put down the thoughts in my head when they came into my head. I'll take the picture down because I just don't feel comfortable. I don't want to feel limited and having my picture up will limit me.