Bored Chestnuts

I was coasting down highway 10...around 75mph.

Figured if he was going to let me drive...I was going to see what this thing had. I likes to drive.

So I have been spending time with Michael. He makes me smile and laugh. He's clearly smarter than me. I like that too. Who likes to surround themselves with idiots. Well, sometimes it's necessary. I need to feel smart evry now and then. *shrug*

Michael is the name we gave him in place of his middle name. His middle is so...country fabulous that it's insane. His name doesn't suit him at all...so we came up with Michael. He's pretty awesome and although he is just my friend...I find that I am crushing on him. I learn a lot from him, being in his space.

...and he lets me drive...

Garble garble...

I have been trying for the past two days to only speak what I like versus what I don't like.
It hasn't quite been as easy as I thought it would be.
I've gotten used to listing things that I don't like, that it's kind of just in my natural dialogue.
Made me realize how...not positive I am. Not that I am so much negative but definitely not positive.
Eye-opener.

Well my new man and I are no more. I have meant to update and post about all the place and things that we have seen together...now it just doesn't seem as important since he is no longer around.
I remember Kevin mentioning that I would definitely be sought after once I reached the south. BUT that I would be a novelty...and soon would be disgarded. He tried to sugar-coat it with words like "big personality", "citified", "progressive"...but it comes down to that I am good for only a moment of time.
Obviously he was correct...my two attempts at a relationship with a southern man...have quickly turned out disasterous (so dramatic am I). Which for me is nothing much...but the fact that each relationship can't even turn into a friendship and not of my choice but because they want that, speaks volumes about how I am clearly not a southern thing...I am an acquired taste so to speak.

Yet, I push forward because I may need a man...and a man may need me. In the for real way, not in the half ass way that I have been living my life thus far. Half assed meaning liking not having responsibility or accountability.

A good thing about going thru a break-up...is that I guess I don't eat as much. I've lost 5 lbs in a week. Just don't have an appetite. Last night I realized that all I had consummed for the day was a cup of coffee. However, although I may need to lose 15 more pounds, I realize that I need to eat.

This weekend is Halloween. It is like a mini Mardi Gras and I am excited about going into the FQ to see the parade and see all the craziness. I thought about dressing up but... Just but.

Last night I attended a showing of Faubourg Tremé: The Untold Story of Black New Orleans. There was a Q&A session afterwards. I had no questions. I always hate Q&A...I never have a question or a comment. Makes it worse that I was sitting almost right in front of the producer and he kept eyeing me...as if he thought that I had had a question all the sudden...or as if he wanted to eat me up. I am going to want to believe the last one of course.

I am secretly drawn to nerd...and A-type personalities...and assholes...and rich men...

Lolis is a nerd...may even be over the sufficient amount...so to speak...but him in his glasses and messed up 70's fro with his little potbelly made me sort of want to pull him to the back of one of the bookstore aisles and stick my tongue down his throat. I didn't, of course, because my sexy swag I had...is now hesitant...boring...and sexless which means not sexy at all.

I am boring.
I am average these days.
Speaking of average...I am almost to the point where I can see myself here for life. I am not sure if I understand why...but... Wait, did I just call New Orleanians average? LOL I am such an ass.

I am thinking about volunteering. I used to but haven't done it for awhile... there are a ton of organizations to volunteer with, for sure but... I am still looking. I liked working with special olympics so...maybe I will head down that route. I think it will soften me up as well. Hoping.

Can't Stop, Won't Stop

I sat in pee. It was gross. But I did it. Normally…I would have been ridiculously outraged…I mean who wouldn’t. But for some reason…I just moved to another seat and continued to be taken in by the…Takers. I got some free movie passes and some free concessions out of it but…I am still wondering when I started to believe it was ok to marinate my behind in someone else’s urine.
I just grossed myself out with that thought.

It’s still thunder and lightening like God’s furious with…you all. Like y’all done stole his money and his woman... that is, if God was a man…who had a woman…and needed money.

When it rains...hell, even when it doesn't rain...these little critters are everywhere. So far, this is the closest thing I've seen to an alligator.

I haven’t had any new dates since…July 14th. I have been on one looonnnG constant date with one guy…still trying to figure out when I unknowingly came into this relationship and plopped my ginormous behind down all up in it…like the pee. Not that I am comparing my new found relationship to piss…just sayin’.
With that said, let me try and describe how this relationship is going. You see, I haven’t been in a bonafide relationship since I left my husband 10 years ago. As you readers (umm, those who even bother to come on over anymore)…I have been living the single life for so long. Yes, yes I have had long term indiscretions…long term for me being the standard 3-6 months…with the exception of Darrell. But come on…we can’t count that as a relationship once we found out he was happily married. So everything for the past 10 years has been casual at best. I’ve never had a problem getting a man…a willing man. My problem has always been getting rid of the man once his expiration date became due.
Well, here I am…and yes, I realize that I am still within my standard dating expiration time line…the strange part is that…well…I am not dating anyone else and don't really want to.

Although I might very well pull down my panties on Canal street and bend over for the "Ideal"…should he call and should he want to see me and should he want to “be” with me…I’d do that. Maybe.
So it’s with that exception that I am in a relationship. Granted that is a huge exception…but I am pretty positive that it won’t go down like that.

So…I gots me a man. I man’s man who fixes shit and who works with his hands and who talks to me softly. Even when I am going off on him about silly bullshit…which I find myself doing regularly. I keep telling him that being in something that’s bonafide…isn’t usually my M.O.

So I am a little rusty on being someone’s woman… I mean I think I have been up on keeping reserve skills for so long…belonging to someone…just one man…well…I am not all that used to that role yet. Matter of fact, we were out the other night at a kareoke spot and he mentioned that I hd been flirting with one guy inparticular...umm, I might have but purely out of being social rather than I was interested. IDK *shrug* I tell him all that time, I am trying, so be patient. I’ve dealt in multiples (meaning multiple men)…not in couples stuff. And why did that just sound all sexual and whatnot…it wasn’t meant to be. Which brings me to my next topic…
Can one be in a relationship and not be sexual…well sexual meaning insertion…not meaning no orgasms or sperm.
I am still all over the place in my thinking about this situation. This particular man comes with some deal-breakers…things that normally would have been a reason to walk the other way. Yet, I stay. I see the good in him, I see his efforts, I see his potential. Not potential to be what I want, but potential for him to be and have what he wants. Oddly, I got his back... if he needs that.

It’s official, I am an alcoholic. I say that with a straight back and head held high. No joking and no making fun of… Now when I say alcoholic please don’t picture me stumbling the streets of New Orleans with a months worth of stubble and in a stupor… I am functional in my shit, yo! Budda, I do walk the streets of New Orleans in a drunken stupor. Every time I say I am not going to drink anymore, I wake up the next day and I am hitting up one of the many daiquiri shops. It is hard to not drink unless…well unless you have a life…which I do not possess. Even with a man…I am lifeless. So to speak. I am sure if I had a job…I’d also be a gambling addict as well. When I said that this was a land of debauchery the likes of Sodom and Gomorrah, I wasn’t kidding.

I won two tickets from Spike Lee to attend his premier of IGIWATCDR which aired on HBO the 23rd & 24th.
He didn’t personally give them to me…some marketing company in NYC sent them to me. He gave them only to New Orleans residents. The Man and I went.
We shmoozed with the “elite” of New Orleans. I am proud to say that despite what you may think of New Orleans and it’s ghetto-fabulousity…there are some very well-to-do, intelligent and pretty people here. However, it was my first time seeing them since I have been here, since my nose has been wide open all up in The Man’s hind parts to meet anyone of caliber. He’s a working man…with his hands type of man…not in an office type of man that I am usually used to. So…who he knows is more along the lines of 7th Ward versus mid-town Manhattan. He calls me bougie…but it’s not been the first time that someone has said that about me. Some of my closest friends say the same. I don’t know what they are talking about because I have got down and hung out with some pretty grimey people…lol That sounded bougie didn’t it. Akin to, some of my best friends are black…lol

Either way, there were cheers, boo’s and tears a plenty in the Mahalia Jackson Theater. There was much pride…much angst…and much sorrow in that theater as we viewed the series that Spike made. I still cry when I see the inhumanity in the way that our government treated it’s citizens. And still…walking the 9th Ward is no treat…matter of fact, the streets of the 9th Ward aren’t necessarily walk-able…overgrown with greenery that hasn’t been cut by the city since Katrina…so some streets just come to an abrupt stop…you come face-to-face with a wall of weeds taller than a house…in the middle of the street.

I have yet to venture out of New Orleans other than the standard suburban areas that are close by…Metarie, Kenner, Harvey…blah blah blah. I have seen Rebirth Brass Band (pic above) and heard Trombone Shorty…gone to Bullets to listen to Kermit Ruffin >>> (both singing their version of Louis Armstong's St James Infirmary)

Sat on a hot Saturday afternoon as rain lightly sprinkled and heard Bradford Marsalis playing his horn…I have listened to zydeco and taken in all that which Nawlins is known for musically.
I’ve attended the White Linen Art Party, the Dirty Linen Party, the Red Dress Run, the Satchmo Jazz Festival and eaten too much of this fattening food. By the time I break loose from this joint…I will be plump’r to say the least.

I don’t feel like I am home yet…still feels like an extended vacation. I am waiting for the home feeling to set in. Maybe once I get a job and really establish myself...but now...eh.

Thought Some Thoughts

I forgot my password to blogger.
I guess that's a hint that I should blog a little more often.

Oh lord...I can't even remember all the things that have transpired since last writing...but I will endeavor to keep ya'll abreast of my goings on...

Living: Umm, still doing it...but in a hot & sweaty type of way. And oddly...my first 2 weeks here I lost mad weight...but since then...umm, tho I secrete...I lose nothing.
I have yet to call cable to come hook my ish up. I had an appointment but I wasn't here when old dude showed up...I was supposed to re-schedule but I never did. I am not sure why I haven't yet. It could be due to my mullah which is acting very unfriendly right now or...I was thinking that if I didn't have cable I'd be less likely to sit my wide ass in front of the tv all day. Wrong. My wide ass has it's own section of the couch that I made specifically for the comfort of said wide ass. Nothing better than happy ass is what I always say. Well, maybe not always.
My dad's bestfriend came here for a convention and we had dinner...and he inspired me. Not inspired me to do anything...lol But inspired me with the things he spoke about...but I am still lazy and still filled with self doubt concerning possibility of failure.
I had a friend visit from Houston...I want to write more but I can't...not because of anything in particular...but because I haven't really thought about it...if there is anything to think of at all...

Work: Nada

Loving: Heh heh ha! Yeaaaah, well see, what happens is that...I live around like a bajillion bars...and when drinking, I have found that everyone is a lot nicer (including myself)...so I have locked some lips with some menz that I am sure I'd never gave the time of day to had I been...in my right damn mind.
However, there has been one constant...well...if 4 days on and 6 days off...and now back to our on days is considered consistent. I am going to call him Red...his skin is the color of red clay...he makes me want to eat him up...(and unless you read my last post on the other page...you won't get that red clay/eating comment.)
I can't speak too much on him because I am still figuring out what I am going to do...and why I am doing it.
Then there is NOPD...and he's not really in the running for a mate(substitute)...but oddly, I like a challenge...and even though I don't plan on keeping the prize...it's still cool to run the race.
And finally, there is Irving. I like him. I am not sure how far that will go because...well...although I like his personality/sense of humor...I can see that at some point I am going to need him to act a little more mature. I can't be walking around laughing all the time...hel, we're grown ups and we need to think about grown up ish...and stress on it! SO his little happy-go-luckiness...he needs to tap that down. Just sayin'...why the hell you always grinnin'?
But he's a diamond.

And finally, the "Ideal", Brian...is gone. He left me. Left me the hell alone. I want to be able to say I left him or even that we left eachother...but reality sets in and I know he left me.

Which brings me to sexin' it up...
Is sexin it up the only one true thing that we as women will ever know about men that's fact? I know SOME men that love sports, I know SOME men that love money, I know SOME men that live for family, I even know SOME men that love being single... but EVERY man I know loves them some sex. Without a doubt and with no hesitation. This I think I know. But when it becomes a quest to get the most as fast as you can...I don't get it.
At the end of the day...play your cards right and it's pretty much a given...but you have to have some damn patience.
Then again, there are a lot of women wo don't require much of a wait...and if you can get the sex in fast...then you can move onto the next one. I however require to much time and energy for some men. I can't and don't give up the snatch as fast as some. Maybe because I know, that as long as I have breath in my body and desire to get some...dick will always be there...I ain't got to rush.
In saying that, is it not like that for men? Or is it that y'all think vagina is going to run out and you need to get as much as you can before the drought sets in?
Just sayin'...

I think I may have a lively weekend ahead...if so, will make sure I update before I forget it.

B~E~Z

1-I'd Russian

I met him coming out of the W hotel in downtown New Orleans…and as soon as I saw him I was thinking...I would talk to him just for the story.
And that right there…is what I live for these days…the story. The experience.

The one-eyed Russian. Now…he is from Kazatastan or Czechoslovakia or something but I call him my one-eyed Russian. Politically correctness is not how I write…umm, or think.

So this is how it goes…I met him out there in front of the W hotel. I had just come from talking mucho gusto shit with the people inside. Why? Hell I don’t know. I was drunk. Drunk I tell you.

Sidenote: I have been drinking entirely too much. Drinking in New Orleans is entirely different than any other place in the US…even Vegas. And if you are born and raised here…I swear these bastards started drinking liquor like it was milk from the teat. No lie. Which of course has people just buying me drinks at random…which makes me obliged to accept. Right?

So…I had drank 3 beers at Gordon Bierch and then headed over to the W just to get some money to catch a cab home…well, I ended up having 3 phone conversations on the lobby couch and from there…drifted over to the bar. Ordered a double-shot of Jameson. I drank that and then the bartender being all gracious and shit…topped me off with another shot for free.
I can’t even remember what I was saying…I do remember offending a chick…umm, my bad…a lawyer. I really didn’t mean to but from there…we started off on the wrong foot and I am not good at trying to rewind on a chick. If she had been a dude, well…of course. But really…who gets upset at a drunk…and a happy drunk at that! C’est la vie.
I met a pretty young chick and her guy “friend”…who somewhat sorta tried to say something but I could be all wrong. I do remember young chick trying to convince me that he was a cool dude and I should "pay attention" to him…but she also said he had a little wee-wee so I am not sure how that was a plus in any mans book, just sayin’. I also don't know how she giving me that information was helping his cause in gaining some play time with me. Again, just sayin'.

…back to the one-eyed Russian…

Yes, yes, yes…I am all kinds of ignorant and uncouth…but fuck it.
I covered up one eye…and asked if he could see out of the clouded white eye…
He looks scary and dangerous with that eye but…I secretly like scary and dangerous.
Well, wait, let me clarify…I like the look of scary and dangerous…I don’t necessarily like scary…and only borderline dangerous.
His accent was thiiiick. I kept asking him to repeat himself but then again…it might have been the drunken-ness. After all, I think I may have asked him his name 15-eleben times and that was after he showed me his license. Confused, with a furrowed brow and head tilted to the side I ask, “umm, what’s your name again?”

Apparently he likes me. Clarify again, he likes ass and even though I have none…"ass" isn’t really what I am talking about when I say it. I have quickly learned that sexing in NOLA is akin to a weekly pedicure. Maintenance. And if done correctly, relaxing.
And oh goodness, don’t, for whatever reason, float around the FQ because it’s like Sodom & Gomorrah down there. All sorts of perversions and sexual proclivities abound.

I have come to the conclusion that I am a white man magnet in the south.
Who’da knew, not me.
After all, until this move I can count on 3 fingers how many white men have wanted me, approached me…and been declined. However here…more white men have approached me then black men. So everything has flip-flopped...matter of fact, I can count on 3 fingers the amount of black men who’ve wanted me, approached me…and been declined.

The one-eyed Russian wants me. Or so he professes. Tells me all about him and I am shocked to find out that he is 27. I was drinking a beer when he told me that, I choked. Choked so bad, beer came out of my nose.
I.honestly.can’t.remember.the.last.time.I.dated.a.27.year.old.
Deterred? Nope.
And on he presses.
So 3 bars later and me more drunk…him, well he’s drinking coke…
No drunk in their right mind wants to hang out with a sober person as they sink deeper and deeper in their cups. Good thing I was already done when I started…otherwise I would’ve let him go about 4 hours earlier. But happy drunk I am and I am making “acquaintances” left and right.
Sidenote: I don’t get it…Rich says that I beat him up every time I get tipsy but here, I am happy-go-lucky. I have to surmise that it’s out of angst that he gets the hurtful drunk. A woman scorned is safer than a drunk woman scorned…I kid, I kid…sort of.

One-eyed Russian and I stayed out until 5am. He walks me home and keeps asking me if he can take me to dinner and all sorts of other things that I vaguely remember. Through out my partying all I think of when I meet someone is how can they help make my adjustment to New Orleans smoother… I realize that I am going to have to go to dinner with a few people that I probably would normally not…but he seems like a nice guy…thru my drunken haze.
We sit on the stairs of someone’s house and it almost feels like nights in Harlem sitting on the stoop…almost…but not. I can’t imagine sitting on a stoop in Harlem on a humid summer night…with a one-eyed Russian.

…and once again, I reminded that I am so so far from home.
Not that NYC is my home anymore…but it has been my home for 6 years and it’s the place that I associate home with. Watching movies that are based in NYC is sort of hard for me…just because I do miss it and I reminisce.
However, right now…the EZ isn’t all that bad. And I am already stacking up some experiences to rival those from summer of 2004 when I moved to NYC. I find myself in the most unusual, unexpected, sometimes unwanted, and uniquely compromising situations no matter where I go.
As I always say...
I walk the line on a daily basis.

Subdued But Still Alive

I don’t know how I get myself into these predicaments. I want to say that I just happen to walk into them but…on further analysis…I realize that I bring a lot of what goes on around me into my own sphere. It’s rarely by accident that things happen…to me.

I was recently told that I have too much control over myself and that I needed to let go just a little. Of course he was/is wanting that ass so…to him, me letting go includes letting go of my panties and inhibitions. At the time I said that I could let go that I could not think of the future but rather of the moment. I lied to him. I know that it’s because I do have a semblance of control that I am able to control the minor upsets that might occur. I enter into each affair of the heart as something that has been measured and weighed. I’ve not thought long and hard and deep about it but I have hit on the very surface of what something could be if all hell were to break out…or on the flip side, whether I was ready to take it to the next level if he and I decided to go there. It is all controlled in a very unfair way. It’s akin to manipulation. Of which I have also been accused of being a master of. Blah.

I am here in Nawlin’s. I don’t think I could ever explain what being in this humidity is like unless let’s say…you turn your hot water shower on and let it run for about an hour with the door closed, then walk in there with a parka, some ski pants, gloves and hat on and just sit there. It’s like that every day…all day. This morning I woke up at 530am to go for a morning walk…I opened my screen door and took one deep breath…then came back in and proceeded to make a pot of coffee to drink while I sat up under my air-conditioner. We won’t mention my hair issue…I can’t keep a curl in it to save my life. If my hair were all in one length it might look alright but it’s in layers and so it looks like someone just hacked away at my hair with a butter knife…it’s not cute, pretty, sexy or fashionable. My NY glam and my DC sophistication are being torn from me (unwillingly) by this humidity. All I find myself wearing is a ponytail. I might as well cut off my hair and wear a potato sack. Slish always told me that it wasn’t my milkshake that brought the boys to the yard…but my hair…and now I am milkshake-less and good-styled hair-less, Blah.

My first night here, my purse was stolen so…my trusty camera that used to follow me all over the place, the one my dad bought for me from some street vendor in Macau…well it’s gone. I am not too upset about it but it would have been nice to have been able to download the last pics I took of DC’s Caribbean Parade and of Pookie…but c’est le vie…such is life. I will have to buy me another although I am sure I will never get the bargain my dad got in Macau…$5.00 for a digital Samsung…*sigh* So although I have no pics at present...I'll be adding them as time goes on. For now, here is a picture from my visit at the beginning of June. It is of City Park (it's also from the collection I used for my header picture for my blog)

Apparently, I am the new shit in town (my sounds laid down by the Underground)…any sort of biting bug that you can imagine has gotten to my softness and ate away at me like I was some Golden Corral buffet. I even got stung by a black caterpillar. After 6pm I am no longer able to walk the streets of the Garden District without some sort of bug repellant…not that it helps but it does deter some. Funny…I was having dinner with Brian and he said, “you smell nice”…I was like, “yeah thanks, that’s hydrocodizone.” Either they can smell new blood…or I really am all that is wonderfully delicious (like I have been saying for years!)

In the span of one week, I have gone out with 3 men. Brian is my “ideal” but ideals usually fuck up and he is right there on the cusp of being perfectly and beautifully arrogant and… just plain being arrogant and a megalomaniac. The other two…well…I am not saying, but I’m just sayin’…that one of them could easily pass for being gay and the other one told me he had been arrested for domestic violence. That one, I kindly turned to face the bar and told him that I was no longer interested. I told him he could leave me while I finished my margarita…he just stared at me for a minute then walked out the door. He has called me twice since that date. I just ignore the call. I don’t know…maybe I am not as non-judgemental and free-thinking as I thought I was…but domestic violence isn’t such a turn on to someone who’s never been hit by a man…not even been whipped (or is it whooped) by her father. Not a selling point. *shrug* And finally there is Alabama…he looks like he could be someone’s grand daddy…he’s full of money but won’t share unless we set up an “arrangement”. Well he didn’t come out and say it but believe me…he talks about it enough to try and convince me that I have but to agree and ask and all will be mine. Just the thought of his old grand daddy ass sweating all over me as he ruts around gives me the chills…in the horror movie way, not in the oh-la-la way. However, all that is for naught since my philosphy is that you have to share in order to play. And of course my all time philosphy is...what's mine is mine...and occassionally, what's yours is mine too. I am a spoiled little bugger I know.

…I have much more to write but I will try and dole it out in pieces rather than some long drawn out post. Already I have jumped ahead of myself and the next post will be one that I should have written before this one. I am chronologically messing up my whole experience in N.O. Either way, y’all will get the full of it in time.

B~E~Z

Blogging in the Bathroom

...this moving stuff is some bullshit...literally...shit. I have no where to sit while the movers get my stuff ready to load onto the truck so I am sitting here in the bathroom on the toilet...elbows on knees and watching. I feel silly as I try to manuver my laptop so it doesn't fall on this marble floor. I almost sat on the floor but then remembered that I haven't cleaned yet. I was going to wait until after the movers had left then clean the entire place.

Damn awkward.

I was given an estimate ...I ran with it. Seems they forgot to mention all the other little shit...so what was a basic thirteen hunnit...has gone up a few hundred. Obviously, these folks don't know I am broke. Obviously.


FYI...I have been up 27 hours straight as of this minute, riiight.....now. My feet hurt and my shoulders are killing me from packing and moving stuff...and my contacts are burning.
Yeah, this moving is some booshit.


But after 530...I can relax.


I am ready to be in my new place. Although, the unpacking will have to wait until the following week. I am moving in the midst or rather at the beginning of ess.ence.festival...so I have friends coming in from California, NYC and Dallas. Hence, the moment I land and unload the truck...then hit the streets running with them.

I hate crowds.

I haven't been drinking as much as I used to so... drunken days and nights in the French Quarter aren't a selling point. Not to say I don't like the FQ...I do...lots but not when there is a crowd. A Tuesday or Wednesday night when it's just half crowded...lol


I had a funny story to tell you last night but...I was too busy packing to write it down and now....zilch.

What to Keep...

...and what to throw out... Oh, it is hard to say.

I have 3 boxes of "junk" heading to Good.will. They are going to love me. Couple of things I almost accidently threw away...2 pair of brand new shoes and an little old black velvet box...thought it was empty but on GP I opened it up...a pair or diamond earrings where inside. Real diamonds...lol
Also while clearing out the pockets of my purses...I ran across an old pack of gum, $20 bill, a few vanilla wipes, and a condom.
I can't even remember when I needed a condom. Muchless, when I needed to have one handy in my purse. Apparently I haven't used this particular purse in a bajillion years. Sad.

I have been listening to music since 8:30 this morning...packing (if you can call 2 boxes in 11 hours packing) and shooting the she-ite with friends about blogging, moving and men. All of which I am pretty versed in, considering I obviously live for all 3. Well, maybe not blogging.

But I am back YO!
Blogging that is.

I figured with me being a new resident of the great state of LaWeezie-Anna...I am going to have a whole brand new U.haul truck of stories to tell. BTW, if someone out there knows how to turn my blue eyes brown...let me know.

...and so...once again...hold on... Here we go!