I'm Serious. I'm Kidding.

Favorite line: "It was a run by fruiting." The strangest thing. For about two weeks now, I had wanted to write a post on here. Instead of just writing and seeing what came out, I was in the mindset that something will come to me and that'll be my first blog since May, and clearly that wasn't working until today. This is not going to be a funny post, this is not going to be edited*, this is just a written  stream of   consciousness about something that I may have just  realized today... is something I may be really passionate about that isn't superficial like my YouTube views, the best kind of cheese, or pop culture. And I know this is probably going to be a super long thing which is not what our society likes today. We like lists. If it's not a list, we leave it alone and move on to  something that is a list. If you are looking for a list, go ahead and leave, it's cool, I won't hold it against you. I probably would've done the same. *I will t

(I feel like linking that title to this post has set the civil rights movement back like 83 years. Sorry MK. Yeah I call him Martin King, because we be close, we be close) Anyway I don’t dream too often, and when I do they aren’t of much substance, I don’t think. I usually don’t remember them. I think my dreams are pretty typical. I have the random people hanging out dreams, then I have the good, happy dreams that you wake up too early from and try to go back to sleep because you are convinced that your brain just hit the pause button and it will resume, but it doesn’t. Instead you have this nightmare where someone is in your bedroom and they are about to shave your head with a sharp knife. You abruptly wake up to find that you are now in a waking dream and you can feel the assailant laying on top of you and you try to get up but your entire body is literally paralyzed, you feel him stroke your head with the knife once before you regain control of your body. You stay up the re

Yo, first off… Solange, Beyoncé and Jay-Z though? RAVE. Beyoncé stole that show. SASHA FIERCE? MORE LIKE SASHA FEARS! Boom. Here until death.   What was that, though? I’ll tell you what it was. It was probably the best thing that will happen to me in the next two weeks. If didn’t know any better I’d think they were coming down from the 278th floor. That was the longest elevator ride ever. Things I learned from the video:  1. Jay-Z is a true gentleman for not hitting back  2. Beyoncé is scared of Solange  3. I’m scared of Solange  I’m a not member of the Church of Mr. & Mrs. Carter like the rest of the world seems to be, but I’m seriously looking into joining now. I AM BUYING ALL OF THEIR ALBUMS EVER RELEASED. Even Solange’s… JUST KIDDING SOLANGE! I WILL BUY YOURS FIRST, gurlllllll! Don’t hurt me.   Okay here we go rants and raves.  I haven’t written any of them down, they’ve just been swirling in my head so, this post can go many ways, none of them I b

I’m headed back east for a girlfriend’s wedding this week (surprise, surpriseeee)* * This is what I hear from every single person I tell  why I’m headed home to South Jersey.   I decided to take a couple extra days off to hang out with my mother. She has no idea that I’m in another wedding, nor that I’m headed home (DON’T TELL HER!!!!)  She’s going to be so surprised… first off because I plan on calling her and having a conversation while I’m pulling up to the house and secondly because my friend is super selfish and decided to have her wedding the weekend before Mother’s Day. I may or may not show up with flowers, because let’s all be honest…my present to my mom is basically and should always be … just my presence… but here for your knowledge is my itinerary of Chandra and Cornelia’s Six Days ‘O Fun.** Wednesday 4/30 -   5:55 PM (approximately) —Surprise her… if she doesn’t stroke out because the last time I surprised her for Mother’s Day it looked like that was the way s

Today was a day.  Let's just start. DIRECTIONS I am horrible at directions. Horrible. Taking them, following them, telling them. Every single time I step out of the elevator to go to my office I turn the wrong way, without fail. It's almost like a Derek Zoolander can't turn left type of issue. Although I will admit that 87% of the time I push the elevator button I always stand at the elevator bank that opens. I'm an idiot savant like that. *wink, fist to chin* Today I had an 1 PM work appointment in downtown LA. I was told which underground garage to park in but not what building to go to. I got there with 15 minutes to spare. I then proceeded to get lost in the parking garage...for 10 minutes. I couldn't reach surface for the life of me. I somehow ended up two levels lower than from where I parked. I kept following signs for the elevator and escalators but it seemed that there were in fact no elevators or escalators. I blacked out and somehow finally reached

I've always wanted to be that pretty girl that gets hit on by throngs and throngs of men. I used to be so jealous of my friends that it happened to all the time. They would always complain and I would be flabbergasted as to why. IT'S A GIRL'S DREAM. I started taking fish oil daily and it just opened up the flood gates, I guess. Something people may not know about me is that I'm a humble person. Every once in a while though, I feel that I deserve to brag about something. That something right now is that I get hit on... A LOT.  In the past three days alone, I've been hit on six times... And to my beautiful friends; I finally get it now, it's tough, exhausting and disheartening. When will I find a guy who likes me for the inside of me, deteriorated liver and all, instead of just basing their attraction on my milk chocolatey goodness and the huge hole on the side of my right Chuck Taylor? One day, one day maybe... In the mean time I would like to share 

After this morning’s earthquake I realized I would only be a hindrance upon anyone who scooped me up to try and brave a dangerous situation, a natural disaster, or the end of the world with them.  This is me just exuding unselfish sacrifice. Even though I’m doing something that any compassionate normal human would do, I have severe entitlement issues, so please, thank me for this. If you want to survive something, stay as far away from me as possible, I am a danger to myself and more than likely worthless to you. What made me aware of this is when I woke up at 6:25 AM this morning thinking I was dreaming then noticing that I was in a window rattling, shaking, somewhat moist bed bedroom real life earthquake. It wasn’t like other ones which I had either slept through, or felt like I was a happy drunk just swaying to a Monkees song.  It wasn’t a pleasant shake, it was a terrifying one. It was violent, which I can only describe as what a baby probably feels like moments before they ar

I have a relationship with the clerk in the store where I buy my beef jerky and copenhagen—I mean where I buy my quinoa and acai. I’m in there about twice a week  and have been going to this store for  basically the entire time I’ve lived in LA.  We aren’t wordsmiths towards each other, but we have facial recognition and the “Hey! How are you? Good to see you.” down pat.  Yesterday something happened. He rung me up (I got a cherry blow pop that he didn’t charge me for) I swiped my card because plastic makes it easier to believe that you aren’t spending anything. I grabbed my bag of Colt 45 and two zig zags* (I mean because baby…that's all I need)—I mean, organic bananas and almonds, I turned about 35 degrees, got one foot up ready to take a step when he mumbled to me. He either said, “How about that plane?” “Crazy about the plane.” “What do you think about that plane?” Till this day I don't and do not believe I’ll ever know what he initally said. I just kind of