One to Grow On

“Did you hear? We are going to have a cheerleading squad and everybody is trying out.”

When I heard those words in 6th grade, I didn’t give them a second thought.  I had always been a pretty secure kid and I had my own interests. Cheerleading was never something I had dreamed about doing. After school, as I walked up Flatbush Avenue with my bff Lisa, all she could talk about was tryouts. Turns out, after finally getting a basketball team, cheerleading was the key way to spend time with the boys. Lisa was BEYOND boycrazy so she was all hyped up to represent for the Holy Cross Crusaders.

After hearing her (and every other girl in school) talk about it for the next two weeks, I inevitably got dragged to the tryouts with her. I was sitting on the sidelines as all of the nervous girls were lining up and stretching. My job was to reassure Lisa that she would be fine. One of the 8th graders came over to talk to me. “You should try out.” I looked around to make sure she was talking to me. “Who Me?” “Yes, you should try out. It’s going to be fun.” Since I could never say no to a challenge (and secretly, maybe a small part of me wanted to wear a short skirt like my friends) I said why not.

I was in the first batch of tryouts. They showed us a routine. Then said go. I was able to muster my way through that. In my head, I thought….that’s not so hard. Then they asked all of us to do a roundoff and a split.

Needless to say, my brief cheerleading tryout was over.

I watched my bff Lisa become a cheerleader. Soon afterwards, she began dating a basketball player. After that, all of our music and book discussions turned into discussions about making out, wearing his chain and “who was that girl staring at my man during the school dance”. My friends were growing up at a faster rate than I was. While they were hit with the boy bug, I was still reading the Hobbit and the Chronicles of Narnia. My nerd tendencies ran deep.

I thought about this experience today for some reason. I’d like to think that not making the cheerleading team was a pivotal moment in my pre-teen development. I learned that not everything was for me and to trust my own instincts and be myself. I also learned that I was not good at everything. Failure can be a good experience, especially when you can pull a lesson from it. I never did have an interest in cheerleading but I did graduate Valedictorian from my Junior High School. I also learned that while I was not set out to do leaps, kicks and pyramids, I was still a pretty good athlete. I found my niche playing softball, tennis and running. That failure set me in motion to go outside of my comfort zone and find other things I was good at that I enjoyed doing.

There’s something to be said for not always accomplishing a goal and what you do when faced with rejection. I learned that I’m a pick up the pieces and move on kind of girl who can’t do a split.

An Open Letter To Kim K.

Dear Ms. Ka.rda.shi.an:

May I call you Kim? I have watched your show. I even watched pieces of your fake wedding. From my perspective, your family started out with a somewhat normal life.

Your dad was a high powered attorney. Your childhood was one of privilege. Your mother left your dad for Br.uce Je.nner and you continued to enjoy the limelight and a good life. Your friends were famous. You grew up hanging out with the likes of Ms. Hilton and such. Young Hollywood. You saw how P.ar.is became famous for nothing and you and your mom saw a business model that you could all follow.

The tape with Brandy’s brother ensued and you became a household name. Your mom (and Rya.n Sea.crest) seized on the opportunity to make money for the whole family and your show was born. Every second of your life has been filmed for the past few years. Public scandals, breakups, intimate details of all of your relationships. Your mom has seen to it that none of you will ever have to work a real day for the remainder of your lives. I can’t knock the hustle.

However, you just went through yet another very public relationship, over the top million dollar wedding and 72 days later, filed for divorce. I can’t believe that you are truly happy living like this. Always having to be in full make up. Always getting followed by a camera and photographed. Always on display and needing to be that way for the sake of your family’s income.

Think about it….What marriage would survive a 24 hour camera crew and daily meetings to discuss what moments of your life will make it on the show this week?

All of the “real” men you dated all left because they didn’t want to deal with you and your family and the constant scrutiny. Any man that would want to be with you at this point probably has a touch of fame whore running through his veins. Every guy you meet on the show often has a snippet of you “warning them” what your life is like. *sigh*

Now you’re saying you are leaving your husband because he wanted to move you to Minnesota (to have a real marriage) and you couldn’t leave LA, your family and the spotlight? WOW. When is enough money enough? That 17 million added to the rest of the empire wasn’t enough?

If you want to ever have any semblence of a real life, you need to man up, put your big booty girl panties on and kick your family to the curb STAT. Seriously. Put your foot down and take some time off to stop self promoting uh….whatever it is you do. Scrape that make up off. Travel. Breathe. That life you are living is not real.

Now if you were a part of all these shenanigans and the entire wedding was dreamed up for ratings and money….then you win the double side-eye award. BYTCH.

 

The Point of it All….

When people ask me how it is that I haven’t killed and dumped the body have stayed married for so long, I always feel like they are looking at Mr. 1969 and I through rose colored glasses. I will tell anyone that marriage is far from easy. Living with one person, forever, is like being in jail with a roommate. You either need to figure out how to make your peace with the situation fast or you will both need to sleep with one eye open at all times.

We have many differences. He is neat. I am *cough*comfortable cleaning things on my own schedule *cough*. He is hyper and cannot sit still for one minute. I relish nothing more than peace and quiet, a good tv show, fuzzy pajamas and my couch. He loves to visit every single family member, even ones that are like 3rd cousins once removed. I like my immediate family, my cousins around the Holidays and uh, yeah….that’s it. He is nice, always happy and uber friendly. He always looks at the positive side of every situation. I can be evil.

They say opposites attract, and they do. However, you may not want to live with your opposite for life. Having this relationship takes work. I have to pause and stop myself from saying the first evil thing that springs to mind. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail miserably. I have to try and not be so selfish at times. I have to stop being upset about the things he does wrong and try to focus on what he does right.

It requires maturity. There, I said it. Healthy, adult relationships require maturity. Not just from one party…from both people involved. I fully believe that as long as both parties are committed to having a healthy relationship, things can work. The minute one side starts to waiver, you need to start working on fixing the problems. Issues fester when not addressed and you cannot always address things by arguing.

Too many folks are in love with the “idea” of getting married. You need to spend time getting to know someone. Be honest with yourself. Are you both good at working through problems together? When bad times hit, do you see yourself sticking with this person? There are always huge signs when you’re dating. Don’t ignore the signs.

A woman that always looks good, tight outfits, nice shoes and bags will want to keep living her life the same way when she is married. There will be shopping!  As a man, you need to recognize and understand that. She won’t magically stop shopping now that she is your wife. The key is, will she also learn to curb some of her spending to invest in your future together. Will she put your needs above hers?

A man that likes to hang out with his boys will still want to do so after he is married. You met him that way, it will not go away. The key is, is he willing to cancel those plans with the boys if there is something you want to do with him? Does he put your needs first? If he won’t do that now, what makes you think he will do it when he’s married?

I think people rush into relationships out of fear, lonliness and peer pressure. There is nothing wrong with moving slow, dating and understanding what your needs are before you can expect anyone else to understand them. Self love leads to true love.

Date responsibly my friends!

 

 

Stuff that only happens to me

I pulled up to get gas before driving to go meet my friend to see Harry Potter (and yes, I saw it without kids…GEEKS UNITE!) As I was filling the tank, a young man about 19 or so comes up to me and asks me for change to catch the bus. Now I live right near a University so I felt bad for the kid. He was well dressed and looked harmless so I gave him a dollar.

Instead of walking away, he then said “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Uh, no but I do have a husband.”

The older gentleman filling his truck up next to me bust out laughing. Then he said

“Boy, if she needed a boyfriend, do you think she would want one that had to borrow money from her for the damn bus. You better go sit down somewhere son!”

As the boy walked away, the old man shaked his head and laughed. “These young boys need a good azz whooping.”

I laughed all the way to Harry Potter!

My future’s not so bright…

A few weeks ago, I shared with you how Mr. 1969 took down the Wu Tang Christmas lights right? A week ago, he couldn’t sleep so knowing I had to drive to Princeton the following morning, he decided to go out and fill up my gas tank (yes, he can be sweet when he wants to be) and since he was out, he decided to hit up the Mac machine and get some cash, then swing by the library and drop Tali 2′s book in the bin.

When I woke up in the morning, I got in the car and started driving to New Jersey for an early morning sales call. I glanced in the back seat and noticed a Razor scooter. Tali 2 has a scooter but I knew it was in the garage. I called Mr. 1969 and he told me that when he went to drop off the library book, there was a scooter in the parking lot. Since it was midnight and it seemed unclaimed, he brought it home for Tali 1.

Flash forward to yesterday, I found out that he found an unclaimed case of water at the tennis courts when the boys went to play tennis and brought it home.

Why do I have a vision of him being 65 and my entire garage is filled with stuff he found? I told him he has hoarding tendencies and he denied it.

I swear he is going to be one of those old men….

“Babe, look what I found, someone threw away a perfectly good suit and I brought it home. I can wear it to church on Sunday”

“I found a nice velvet chair, only missing one leg, it will look great in the living room!”

“Honey, did you say you needed some new shoes? What size do you wear?”

Pray for me people. Pray for me.

St. Patrick’s Day-Wu Tang Style

The Wu Tang house still has their Christmas lights up. They aren’t on, but they’re still up. The ones on their hedges look crazy since they have been out there over two blizzards and more than a few rainstorms.  Mr. 1969 and I shake our heads everytime we look over there.

This morning, I returned from the gym only to notice all of the lights on the hedges were gone. (The ones on the house are still up).

Me: Babe, the Wu Tangs finally took the Christmas lights down just in time for St. Patrick’s Day.

Mr. 1969: No they didn’t.

Me: They did. Look out the window! See, the one’s on the bushes are gone.

Mr. 1969: I know. I took them down.

Me: What?

Mr. 1969: I took them down. I got tired of looking at that sh*t and I went out there last night, took them down and put them in a trash bag and left them on their steps.

Me: *crickets*

Mr. 1969: Top O the morning to you. Now take your sh*t and put it away.

From our house to yours……………….enjoy the St. Patty’s Day festivities and toast a green beer in honor of my hubby and his ongoing battle with the Wu’s.

Open Letter to Kim Kardashian

Dearest Kimmy:

I want you to know that despite my husband’s undying love for you, I bear you no ill will. Having not been blessed with anything near the posterior that you possess, I allow him to dream.

I can even overlook your over saturation in the media. Magazines, tv shows, red carpets. Although I know not what it is you do exactly, I do respect your hustle and ability to have come out of Paris Hilton’s shadow, only to overtake her celebrity status.

I can even forgive you for dating Reggie Bush. Reggie Bush…*sigh*

Okay, maybe I was hating on you for your good fortune. Lucky beyotch.

I can even overlook your insipid reality show. I actually watched a recent episode one Sunday afternoon. You had a nude photoshoot with a major magazine. Then when they aired your nude photo, you cried your eyes out saying they “promised” to cover you up when it was published. *crickets*

I was willing to overlook these things. You are a beautiful girl with a killer body. Your fashion sense has improved dramatically. You have managed to exhibit some business savvy and built an empire for yourself afterall.

However, I have since had to part ways with you altogether. Even Mr. 1969 says he is done with lusting after your ample assets. Why?

Because when his purple royal highness pulls you up on stage in MY hometown and asks you to dance……you dance dammit.

Ain’t nobody too cute to dance with Prince. Heffa. Should have known you had no rhythm after that boring video with Ray J.

What the Fudge?

Left for work this morning. Jumped in the car, driving down the street listening to Mike and Mike in the morning (uh, yeah…I’m a sports junkie), shades on, focused on the road. At the light, the dude in the car next to me honks his horn.

I look over and he is motioning for me to roll down the window. This is the last light before the turn onto the highway or the turnpike. I figured he was lost and trying to ask for directions. I rolled down my window to see what he wanted.

Him: I find you quite attractive and was wondering if I could call you?

Me: Thank you but I’m married.

Him: So am I.

Me: Rolls window up and drives off

I was cracking up for a few miles. I called Mr. 1969 to share that delightful exchange.

Me: Can you believe that?

Him: What? Dude figured it was an equal risk venture.

Uh yeah. I’m gonna make some special meatballs just for him on Sunday.

Cause I don’t have enough to do

With a husband who lives and dies for the Pittsburgh Steelers, you already know what is happening at Casa de 1969 this weekend right?

Two snaps if your guess involved a whole slew of frat brothers, two kids under 8, a buffet of game food, beer and well, me. Before you say anything else, please know that I have a sorority meeting on Superbowl Sunday at 3pm. Now I love my Sorors but clearly, they are not thinking. I remember the year we had a meeting and the Giants were in the Superbowl. Uh yeah….guess who was in charge of a committee, needed to give a report and never showed up? *hand raised*

So yeah, I will be doing a whole lot of prep work on Saturday so I can just cook on Sunday and throw the rest of the stuff in when I return (I am only going for one hour, I swear! My exit strategy is TIGHT!)

I am developing my menu. My husband is asking for jerk chicken wings, fried chicken wings and buffalo wings and my chipotle meatballs *blank stare*. What happened to ordering pizza and some hoagies? I am sooo not feeling up to it this year but as a good wife, I will get it together before the end of the week.

Does anyone have any Superbowl recipes they would like to share? If so, send them over. I have the Steelers by three. Who ya got?

P.S. Why am I a friend of “Troy Polamalu’s hair on Facebook and Twitter? LMAO!

Repeat Offender

A few weeks ago, Tali 2 came home with a pocket pencil sharpener. Not a big deal but he was using it to sharpen all of his pencils down to the nubs. Mr. 1969 finally took it away from him since he seemed obsessed with sharpening all of the pencils in the house.

The next day, he came home with another pencil sharpener. Same thing, all of his pencils were sharpened all the way down. When I asked him where he got the pencil sharpener, he told me he got it from his teacher for being a good boy.

Later that same week, I went through his bookbag to get his crayon box and found two more pencil sharpeners. I asked him where he was getting all of the pencil sharpeners. He told me that he was getting them all from his teacher.  Tali 1 said “Mom, they have a treat basket at school and when you do something good, you can pick something. Maybe he is picking them from the basket?” It sounded good but something wasn’t sitting right with me.

I looked Tali 2 in the eye and asked him where he got the pencil sharpeners one more time.

He turned red and said….”My teacher.”

I asked him if he was sure because I was going to ask his teacher tomorrow if she was giving him all these pencil sharpeners.

He cracked. He started crying and told me he took them from his friends’ desks. He was going into everyone’s desk and swiping their sharpeners. Tali 2, who was acquitted due to a mistrial/hung jury in his previous trial for the murder of the 1969 goldfish is now stealing!

My baby has Brooklyn running all through his little Kleptomaniac veins. *sigh*

We ended up talking about taking things that don’t belong to you. We talked about how the other kids would feel. How he would feel if someone was taking his stuff. Then we made him return all of the pencil sharpeners to their rightful owners at school. I’ve got my eye on that boy.

What say you now Tali 2 supporters?